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choupichoups · 5 years

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Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.14

Eliott may be all that; rich, handsome, instagram famous— but the basic plebe inside comes out to play when his crush follows him from out of nowhere.

Or: Press F but Eliott’s POV

Parting is such sweet sorrow has gained a whole new meaning as Eliott stands in front of Lucas, bouncing back and forth on his heels in a bid to stall some more before he truly has to go.

“You really don’t want me to stay with you until Yann comes back?” He finally pushes out the question, brows furrowing in concern despite the reassuring smile Lucas gives him.

“I’ll be fine, Eliott.” Lucas picks Champ up from the ground when she starts spinning around in place, looking about ready to lay down and have a nap right at their feet. “Go see your mom.”

"I mean... she’ll probably survive one day without eating my dad’s cooking.” he reasons, pouting when Lucas gives him an exasperated look.

“Bring your mom her rightful lunch, just like you told your dad you would. I don’t want there to be any reason for them to hate me.”

“That’s impossible, they already love you.”

Lucas pauses, bottom lip caught behind his teeth as he looks up at Eliott uncertainly. “Really?”

Eliott softens, sighing out a quiet, “Really.” His hands move on their own accord, brushing against the line of Lucas’ jaw. He can’t imagine how a single person in this universe could ever be capable of hating Lucas.

“Really, really?”

“Really, really.”

“Cool. You really, really have to go now, though.” Lucas laughs, nuzzling into Eliott’s hands like that would help his case.

“Okay, but if you need me for anything at all, you’ve gotta promise to tell me.” The grip he has on Lucas tightens just a little, firm enough to have his boyfriend tipping his head back to see the resolve in Eliott’s eyes. “I mean it. Anything.”

Lucas can honestly ask him to do his grocery shopping right here right now and Eliott would undoubtedly agree. Hell, if Lucas tells him that the windows rattling from the wind bothers him, he’d drop everything and run back to him. Eliott has no qualms about the lengths he’d go to protect Lucas, to keep him feeling safe.

Champ yips, gazing happily up at Eliott as a comfortable silence embraces them otherwise, the sight of Lucas’ precious smile warming the crystallizing fear creeping up on him. The mere prospect of leaving his boyfriend alone for hours until Yann gets back is frankly a no go in Eliott’s books but he understands that Lucas might need some space, and Eliott has his own responsibilities to uphold.

Fuck if it doesn’t scare him, though. The atrocious start to their weekend has really done a number on him.

“I promise,” Lucas whispers eventually, leaning up to kiss the beginnings of a frown off of Eliott’s lips.

Eliott watches him carefully, running a thumb over the shadowed smudge under Lucas’ eyes. He’d waited until Lucas fell asleep first before slipping into dream land himself, but Lucas had already been awake by the time Eliott next opens his eyes— and Eliott is an early riser. He forces himself not to dwell on it, he had been privy to an offhanded comment about Lucas’ complicated relationship with sleep before so maybe this morning is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Stooping down for another kiss, Eliott lets this one linger a little longer, breathing in once they pull away and brushing a final kiss to Lucas’ forehead. He peels his hands off of him, squishing Champ’s tiny head in between his palms to make up for how his mind is screaming for him to hold on. “You’ll take care of him for me, right tough girl?” She licks his hands in enthusiastic answer.

Lucas snorts out a laugh. “You take care, don’t miss your stop or you’ll get back too late.”

“Yes, sir.” Eliott playfully salutes as he walks backwards, stopping just out of reach before he gestures towards Lucas’ still closed door. “Well? I’m not leaving until you’re inside.”

He’s expecting the eye roll that comes— it’s sweet and fond, familiar. The exact kind Eliott craves to soothe his fraying edges.

Lucas turns around once he’s inside, grinning at Eliott and blowing an exaggerated kiss in his direction. It’s so ridiculous that Eliott’s laugh is ripped right out of him, loud and startled, echoing in the empty hallways, nipping at the sound of Lucas’ door shutting with a heavy bang.

All alone, he finds himself despondent, kicking imaginary dirt off the floor as he trudges on with a pathetic pout. There’s no proper way to explain this feeling— they’ve literally almost managed to hole themselves up in Eliott’s apartment the entire weekend. It’s not like Eliott can help it, though, he did just get Lucas back and his needy little melodramatic heart misses his boyfriend for every minute they aren’t together.

He drags himself out of Lucas’ apartment building with visible difficulty, feet shuffling against the rough gravel below his feet all the way through his journey to the bus stop.

It’s going to take him quite a while to get to his mother’s office without a car. Usually, his father has no problem dropping by himself, but he’d answered a favour for an old coworker out in Lyon and will probably be stuck there until the next morning.

In a not so shocking turn of events, his mother forgets to take her ready packed lunch to work without his father being present to remind her of it. And obviously that’s an abomination, she can’t go without a homemade lunch Eliott, she’d get so hungry and her brain won’t be as sharp as usual, her work ethic would suffer because of it. Eliott had cut off his papa’s rambling with a groan and a reluctant agreement to bring the goddamn sandwich to its rightful owner just so the guy would stop worrying already. Hopeless romantic runs thick in the blood of the Demauries apparently.

adam.fk plans today??

idrisomd sleep

abebkhellal oof yeah

emir.yous buncha boring old men

omarions says you?? didn’t you spend fall break last year learning how to play chess lmao

emir. yous we don’t talk about that

idrisomd shut up emir not everyone is a free bird like you I was editing some stuff and I realized I need that dumb triangle still lol eliott can I borrow yours pls

emir.yous maybe if you don’t procrastinate you’d have more free time I thought you were keeping that triangle??

idrisomd maybe if you shut up you’d get more dates I had to sacrifice it for the greater good

Eliott laughs under his breath, contemplating whether he should add his two cents into the conversation. In the end, he keeps to himself for now, reading through the childish banter that inevitably starts up.

The triangle, huh. He’s glad the bus is mostly empty at present, else the giggling he can’t quite suppress would’ve probably worried some people. Fucking unbelievable, really. It’s ridiculous how it all started, now that he thinks about it. It feels like a lifetime has gone by since then.

Eliott still remembers it, vividly. That moment he set his eyes on Lucas. It’s the week before their new semester officially starts— a Thursday to be specific. He and his friends are scrambling around frantically attempting to maximize their remaining days of freedom to get ahead on his and Idris’ new film project.

“Props.”

“Props?”

“Yeah, we’re missing some props.”

Eliott struggles with the cardboard boxes he’s dragging behind him— they’re saving all the money they can by building the set for filming themselves. The rest of the guys get pulled into the fray, as always, so it’s a bit of a disaster when they’re all going around picking up stray cardboard and styrofoam just in case they need it for later.

“What’s the thing you were talking about earlier?” Abe snaps his fingers, trying to recall everything they need before leaving campus.

Idris jumps. “The triangle!”

“What do we need a triangle for?” Adam asks, fumbling with the styrofoam cups he’s balancing in one hand.

“For that one scene in the forest.”

“There’s a scene in the forest?” Omar pipes up from behind their circle, returning from the storage room where he’d gone to dig out some black garbage bags they can borrow.

“Well, it’s Emir’s backyard but whatever.” Eliott mutters, scratching things off of their checklist. “Can’t we just fake the triangle sounds?”

“Too much effort for a little scene. Don’t you have one at yours?”

“Yeah, but my place is out of the way, it’ll take too much time going there and then to Emir’s.” He shrugs, tapping the pen against his chin. “We can take the one from the theatre.”

Emir gives him a look. “We are not stealing the orchestra’s triangle.”

“Nobody will miss it,” Abe dismisses, already walking off to load their things in his car.

“What if someone tells the director it’s missing?”

“Emir, who would notice a missing triangle?” Idris raises his hands as he talks, incredulous at the question. “When you watch your classic live shows, do you hear anyone go oh, yes, the triangle was on point today? No you don’t, cause nobody gives a fuck about the goddamn triangle, man. Eliott, can you please grab us the triangle so we can get outta here?”

“If we get in trouble, I get plausible deniability,” Emir mumbles defiantly. Eliott snorts, patting Emir on the shoulder on his way out.

The theatre is only a short jog away from the parking lot so Eliott slips through the doors in no time, rooting around backstage for the instrument. He finds the little thing buried underneath a broken flute and a... tambourine?

Single piano notes echo along the walls without warning, and Eliott jumps from his crouch, heart beating fast from shock. He doesn’t run, though, because whoever is out there is obviously not going to spot him if they’re preoccupied with playing the piano.

He’s just about to leave again, grab his stolen goods and sneak his way back out, when the aimless piano notes begin to blend together with effortless flow, a sudden transition tickling his ears so pleasantly that Eliott can’t bring his feet to move along more than two steps at a time. Transfixed, he walks closer to the curtain, curious as to who would play such a beautiful melody so delicately.

Eliott has always wished life would be as easy as the films he's grown up watching— with twists and turns that cause crushing moments, yes, but with the comfort of a happy ending to cushion against the pain through it all. He’s always dreamt of something cliche to happen to him once in his life. Maybe he could win the lottery and live the rest of his life as a billionaire. Maybe he could meet someone so inspiring he’d gain the courage to pack up and explore the world with nothing but a boat and backpack. Maybe he could fall in love at first sight

The boy on the piano is turned sideways but Eliott can clearly see him from where he’s hidden behind the curtain. The smile on his face is plain adorable and the way he’s swinging his feet under the piano (he’s not even using the piano pedals and it still sounds so good) goes straight to Eliott’s heart.

His feet carry him forward, as if entranced, so helplessly drawn into the boy’s gravity—

“Stop,” the boy says, laughing. Eliott stops, startled. “You’re gonna ruin it, Yann,” his angel continues, head swinging to the side where another person who Eliott has apparently not seen is sitting.

The other guy, Yann, laughs too, picking up a violin. “No I swear, I can do it. I took classes once, remember?”

“Yeah, like ten years ago and you quit after two days.”

The two boys giggle at each other and the angel stops playing, attention fully on Yann. There’s a profound affection in the way they interact together, which makes glum little stones fall heavy against the bottom of Eliott’s stomach.

Jesus, he needs to calm down. He doesn’t even know the boy’s name yet.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Eliott’s glad he’s forgotten to put the ringer back on. He doesn’t know how he’d explain it if the two boys catch him skulking around backstage.

Eliott runs out of the theatre soon after, remembering how pressed for time he and the guys already are. He tries to put the thought of the boy behind him, making vague hand gestures in lieu of explaining what delayed his return when the guys question him.

He fails miserably.

The bus lurches and Eliott almost drops his phone, fingers grappling for a firm hold on the screen as it slips and slides from the abrupt movement. He still has the group chat with the guys open so the scrabble has him accidentally scrolling up, up, up around a month back.

When he looks down at the screen, he's taken right back to that delightful moment Lucas had unknowingly caused back then.

The doors open and close, one person exiting but a whole crowd entering right after. Eliott presses himself more comfortably into his back seat corner and settles a hand over his mouth, covering the widening grin stretching his lips as he reads through his own moronic words.

Good god, looking back on it now is hilarious, but Eliott will never forget the all consuming panic he’d felt at the time.

Eliott exits out of the chat, frantically scrolling down his barrage of notifications to stare reverently at the one that matters most.

lucallemant started following you

It’s almost two hours past midnight, with him having just finished up the sketch for the side project he’s working on by himself. He’s been looking forward to falling into bed ages ago but now he’s wide awake, brain swirling with jumbled thoughts and with no hope of falling asleep within the next second.

srodulv when should I? should I wait til later?

adam.fk maybe wait til its not 2 in the morning lmfao

srodulv what if I wait too long and he unfollows

abebkhellal god almighty 😂😂😂 sorry bro no one can help u now

srodulv help me

emir.yous why does it matter? just follow him now

idrisomd he’s probably sleeping so he won’t know you’re a nocturnal beast

srodulv he won’t think that’s lame?

omarions he’ll eventually figure out how lame you are so might as well run with it

srodulv fuck off

idrisomd yeah man you can’t hide lame

emir.yous sorry we can’t help with that

abebkhellal rip

srodulv has left the chat

A bunch of useless hooligans, those guys are. He needs better friends.

His phone pings with more notifications— Idris has added him back in the group chat but Eliott ignores the messages for now, knowing full well that there’d be nothing but more of them poking fun at his current dilemma.

He opens up Lucas’ profile, heart palpitating as his thumb hovers over the follow button. Looking at the boy’s feed brings him the same mix of apprehension and fondness, as always. The latter because he’s an idiot who apparently falls head over heels for snippy little piano players and the former because, well—

I’m sorry, bro. I saw something, I think they’re maybe together? I’m still not a hundred percent on it, though.

Eliott sighs, clicking on Lucas’ latest post, of that guy playing the guitar for him. He scoffs, he can play the guitar too. He can even do the Star Wars theme song. On the guitar and the piano. Lucas needs to see that he’s the better choice over here.

He lets his screen go dark, closing his eyes as he urges himself to relax. It is quite an ungodly hour to be awake so he drops his phone on the bed, turns over, and hopes that morning comes with a newfound game plan to get the love of his life to love him back.

The good news is that morning does come, but the bad news is that all the plans he comes up with throughout the day are steaming piles of shit.

“I think I’m in love,” he blurts out, sitting in the basement of Emir’s house. Idris is standing on the couch, trying to cover the ceiling spotlights with printer paper so as to ‘dull’ its luminosity. Adam and Omar are struggling to hold up some desk lamps while Abe holds coloured file folders over the bulb, changing the colour of the lights for the correct ‘ambiance’. Emir is elbow deep in crushed styrofoam pieces.

They all exchange looks of confusion before Abe goes for a hesitant, “Uh... just now?”

Eliott scowls, waving a hand as if they’re so stupid to be unable to read his mind. He gestures to his phone, still open to Lucas’ Instagram page.

"Oh yeah! Any progress on that front?” Idris hops down, eyes glued to the ceiling as he backs up, slowly as if one wrong move could shake the house so much that his pieces of paper would dislodge themselves.

“No.” Eliott pouts, flailing his legs in unashamed frustration.

“Okay, well, have you followed back?” Adam asks, twining some rope around the lamp once they’ve figured out the best angle to go with.

“No. Shit,” Eliott hisses, sitting upright and immediately hitting the follow button. He’s been so focused on figuring out how to start a conversation with his angel that he’s neglected to think of much else.

One of them sighs, but Eliott doesn’t bother to look up at the sound of it.

“So what are you gonna do next?” Emir abandons his crumbly work of art, now sitting cross legged across from Eliott.

“He’s vague posting.” Idris grins, scrolling through his phone. “Ooh, Polaris. When did you even sneak off to take this? That caption though. Much mystery, so cool.”

“Shut up, it’s an old picture.” Eliott throws a couch cushion at him, then proceeds to slide onto the floor, diving flat on his stomach closer to the guys, as he comes up with the most brilliant idea. “What if I’m not?”

“Huh?” Abe goes to sit on the floor as well.

“What if I’m not cool or mysterious? Would that get him to talk to me?” Eliott’s thumbs are working on overdrive before the words are fully out of his mouth, scrolling down each and every one of Lucas’ photos and hitting like on as many of them as he can manage.

He looks up just it time to see the dawning realization on Abe’s face. “No!” he screams in horror, reaching out to snatch the phone from Eliott’s hands. “No, you— oh man, you guys, he did a weird thing.”

“It’s not weird,” Eliott dismisses, trying to retrieve his phone back but every attempt is slapped away by the annoying people he unfortunately calls friends. “It’s called reaching out.”

Idris is cackling, bent over in half as Abe shakes his head in wonder. “That’s kinda genius, though? How very Eliott of you,” Idris gasps out once he’s done wheezing up a lung.

“He’s getting the Eliott experience way too early in the relationship.” Omar mumbles, curiously going through the rest of Lucas’ older posts. “Aw, cute.”

Eliott scrambles towards them, wanting to see which post Omar’s referring to despite the fact that he’s seen every single photo twice over.

His hand slowly creeps up above the phone and double taps on the post.

“Oh my god, someone restrain him.” Adam says, dragging a hand down his face. He sounds like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh which is more than what he can say for the rest of them so Eliott appreciates his effort.

“Come on, Eli monkey, time to break off from Insta for a bit, hm?” Idris walks forward, still chuckling as he tries to pull Eliott off the ground and away from his stolen phone.

Eliott wraps his arms around Idris’ ankles, almost making the latter fall on his face in the process. “But he’s so beautiful.”

“Yes, yes.”

“His eyelashes are the 8th wonder of the world.”

There’s a collective groan from everyone in the room and then Eliott feels a placating hand patting the top of his bowed head. “Yes, we get it. But you gotta get up now, lover boy. We‘ve got shit to film.”

By the time his stop comes up, Eliott has to squeeze himself past a godawful amount of passengers. He gets it’s break week for a lot of the students but considering it’s a Monday afternoon, Eliott is of the opinion that there really shouldn’t be this many people out and about.

His mother’s office is a towering structure of reflective glass and one way windows. Eliott pushes at the revolving doors, nods a smile towards the reception desk, and settles into one of the many armchairs in the lounge area. He shoots a message for his mama to come meet him downstairs and doesn’t wait for a response before switching tabs to pull up the film he’s been wanting to see all day. Initially, he’s planned on seeing it with Lucas, knowing that it’s just the right amount of lengthy and boring (for his boyfriend’s taste) to have Lucas cuddling for a nap on his shoulder instead.

But alas, his plans are impeded by none other than his loving parents. Again. He still hasn’t quite forgiven them for poking fun at him being grumpy at brunch after that first night he’d spent with Lucas.

About ten minutes in, someone walks towards him and sits directly across from Eliott’s armchair, never mind that the entire lounge area is devoid of any other person than the two of them.

Eliott doesn’t pay it much mind, unmuting his phone speakers just loud enough for him to hear the background music coming from the film— he wants to record the sound and see if that kind of music score would work well for the mini project he’s planning to put up in the future.

The stranger lets out a faint chuckle but Eliott ignores him, watching the minutes rise on the recording to make sure that he doesn’t miss a single note. Never let it be said that Eliott doesn’t take his films seriously.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Violence is never at the forefront of Eliott’s mind. In fact, he thinks it doesn’t solve much, and should be considered as the last resort. But as life would have it, there are always a few exceptions to the rule and unfortunately for his good mood, the sole exception he’s found in his twenty one years of existence has decided that today is the day that Eliott will commit murder.

Eliott’s eyes flick to where Raphael relaxes back in his seat, legs crossed and fingers delicately twined in his lap— to any outside viewer, he truly looks the perfect representation of an educated, well-bred gentleman. Eliott sees why people are drawn him.

“Fancy isn’t the right word,” he says, just as casual. He pauses the film, music cutting off just in time for him to hear another one of Raphael’s grating chuckles. “Why are you here?” The answer is obvious; pressed slacks and dark suit a dead give away. He remembers Lucas mentioning that Raphael works in a law firm but Eliott needs to hear it, to make sure that fate has really handed this opportunity over on a silver platter.

Raphael spreads his arms. “I work here,” he answers, smug. “What about you? Someone trying to pin murder on you?”

Funny how he’s asking that, but Eliott doesn’t answer his question. “New York too much for you, huh.”

Eliott watches the minute narrowing of Raphael’s eyes, taking pleasure in the fact that the guy hasn’t expected Lucas to divulge their story in such detail.

“New York was great, actually, they offered me a spot there as well but eh, I need to think about it.” Raphael leans forward, elbows on knees as he brings one hand up to rub across his lips, faux thoughtful. “I left a little something behind here.” He looks at Eliott, then, and the latter sees the fabricated warmth in his eyes freeze over, ice cold in barely restrained anger. “I want it back.”

Don’t mess this up, Eliott reminds himself, fists clenching and unclenching as he reigns in his temper. How he’d love to feel the crunch of Raphael’s nose under his fists right now, but it’s not that kind of battle. Eliott only has one shot to play his cards right.

“Cut the bullshit,” he responds, surprisingly calm. “Lucas isn’t yours to take back.”

Raphael laughs. “Why, he’s yours now?”

Yes. “Neither. I’d appreciate it if you stop talking like he’s something to pass around.”

“How chivalrous of you.”

“I’m surprised you know what that means.” Eliott wants to say more, but he grits them back. There are more important things for him to needle out. “What with all the shit you put him through.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Raphael falls back into the cushions once more, infuriatingly unaffected.

“Do you want an essay or a list?”

“So quick to believe everything you’re told, are you? Did he cry and look at you with those big blue eyes? He does that all the time to get what he wants.” There’s a strain at the corners of Raphael’s eyes, nonchalant facade slipping down the longer Eliott stares on without a word. “You know there’s no evidence for any of these, right?”

The quick dismissal of Lucas’ personal recounting almost does it for Eliott. But if Raphael is a master of manipulation then Eliott is of restraint— he won’t let Raphael win. “Yeah? You gonna tell that to the marks on his wrists?”

Raphael scoffs, “That was an accident. Friday was a big misunderstanding, trust me. It’s called tough love, he likes it.” He smiles, obviously waiting for a reaction from Eliott but the latter maintains an impassive exterior.

“It’s called assault.” He barely refrains from tagging on a spiteful fuckface at the end of that.

“Whoa there, that’s some heavy accusation you’re dropping!” Raphael laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you know who I am?”

“A sad excuse of a man who takes advantage of vulnerable minors?”

Raphael clicks his tongue. “You think you’re so perfect, huh?”

“Far from it.” Eliott shrugs. “But I don’t hurt the people I’m supposed to love.”

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest.” Sarcasm drips from Raphael’s words. “You think if we both stand here, right in front of Lucas, and make him choose.” He leans forward, a desperate glint in his eyes. “You’re positive he’d choose you? Cause let me tell you, Eliott, that boy is wired for my touch, for my voice, for my own to do as I please, and he will choose me no matter how much I hurt him. He will always come back to me and you can’t do shit about it.”

Victory feels good when taken by a landslide. Eliott grins, and he sees confusion, frustration, and wariness warp Raphael’s carefully constructed expression into that of something… human. Human, unlike the impenetrable monster Lucas has painted inside his head. Human, who, despite the cunning and intelligence, very much fucks up like everyone else. And oh, has Raphael fucked up big time.

“My turn,” Eliott says cheerfully, just to mess with the bastard even more. “Do you know who I am?” Slowly, so as to make sure that Raphael catches the movement, Eliott stops the recording on his phone.

Raphael shoots up from his seat, panic dousing his face red all over before seething rage takes prominence. He hisses out a quiet, “Get rid of that, right fucking now. You don’t want to mess with me.”

Eliott stands, huffing out a small laugh as he notices that they’re of equal height. None of Raphael’s tactics has worked, or will ever work on him. “Nah, it’s the other way around.”

“Eliott?”

Georgine Eloise Demaury, part time managing partner of the law firm, part time vicious criminal prosecutor, and full time doting mother, makes a tall, intimidating figure in her navy suit and sky high heels. Her eyes are steel blue as they land on Eliott and Raphael alternatively. The red on her lips is a sharp scowl, striking against the paleness of her skin.

Eliott presses his lips together, amused at the sight of what he fondly refers to as her working bitch face. She’s forbidden Eliott from visiting her at work too often just because he’s the only one capable of cracking her diabolical attorney persona. He keeps quiet, shrugging innocently when she raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Hi, mama.”

He hears Raphael’s sharp intake of breath and fuck, that feels good.

Her lips twitch the slightest bit. “You two know each other?”

“Just having a friendly chat,” Eliott says, looking over at Raphael with a tight smile. He relishes the startled loss he sees there.

“I’m waiting on a call from Mr. Schutt,” Raphael says, rearranging his face, posture straightening under Georgine’s gaze.

“And you?” She addresses Eliott this time.

“I brought lunch?” Eliott gestures at his bag on the chair. “Papa got worried you’d starve when you told him you forgot it.”

She rolls her eyes at her husband’s dramatics. “You didn’t have to come here.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to papa. You’re gonna have to eat it now, I ditched my boyfriend for this.”

“Ah, how’s Lucas? Come up to my office, you didn’t finish telling me how he’s doing last night,” she says, rigid frown compensating for the soft tone in her voice. Across from Eliott, Raphael flinches at the mention of Lucas’ name. “I need to grab something from IT and then I’ll be right there.”

“Will do.” Eliott smiles, throwing his backpack over one shoulder when his mother walks away. He waits until the click clacking of her heels fade off completely before he turns to face Raphael. “So anyway, I suggest you think very hard about that offer in New York.”

“You’re insane,” Raphael mutters behind clenched jaws.

Years ago, that might have stung. Coming from someone else, it might still hurt. But as it is, Eliott revels in it. “You have no idea,” he says, raising his hand for the most condescending pat on the back he’s ever delivered before heading off to the elevators.

Eliott ends up taking a long nap on his mother’s office couch, tired from interacting with Raphael and his stupid mind games. Sure, he’d come out on top of that one but lengthy confrontations are most definitely not Eliott’s cup of tea. He thinks if Raphael still has the audacity to show his face after that, Eliott will let loose of inhibitions and just start a proper fist fight.

Recording their conversation had been a gut reaction— he’s not even sure it would help much if push comes to shove. But his mother has quite the terrifying track record and judging from Raphael’s reaction, he knows that too. He almost wishes for Raphael to do something stupid, to trip up the wire on Eliott’s half baked, convoluted plan to take him down permanently. The idea of delving into it scares him a little. He knows shit all about the justice system and Raphael is literally part of the goddamn system.

Lucas wants to leave it to karma, and maybe he’s right.

But then Eliott remembers the tears streaming nonstop down Lucas’ face, the blank disconnect in his eyes throughout that night. His worn voice begging for Eliott not to let go. The hours spent in bed coaxing for an unresponsive Lucas to sleep just a little, I’m right here. The events of that night have taken permanent residence in his mind, painfully unwanted, but there to stay.

lucallemant Eliott, I know I said I’d give you all the time you need And I mean it, you can have more right after this But please, can you pick me up at work? I need you please Please

Call him dramatic all you want, but Eliott’s world comes apart when he reads Lucas’ pleading messages. His vision narrows, the path a blurred vignette, and time slows as if he’s thrown into the fucking matrix. Except there’s nothing exciting or amusing with this development, and his limbs work through honey as he turns and grabs a jacket, shoves his feet into mismatched shoes, and makes a run for it.

It’s not the messages itself that cost him his breath— though those do have him worried out of his mind, unable to even begin guessing as to what would scare Lucas enough to send them. It’s the timestamps that have his heart rattling with unease. The faint chanting of too late too late too late a mournful echo in his head.

He pays no mind to it when he begins panting, head pounding as the freezing wind bites at him with heavy force, unbothered that he hasn’t eaten much for the past however long. He’s not going to stop until he reaches his destination.

However, when he gets there, the cafe is dark and empty. You’re too late, the voice is screaming now. Eliott tells it to shut up, paces the area for a bit, and then checks inside the darkened alleyways. It’s empty. He walks the opposite direction, headed towards the parking lot— and there, that’s when he hears the hushed voice speaking.

Eliott swivels around, rushes towards the sound, and doesn’t allow himself to hesitate on the idea that it’s not Lucas trapped in between the wall and that man’s body.

“Get the fuck off of him.” When he’s close enough, he shoves them apart, fighting against the urge to take Lucas in his arms right away. He has to get rid of the man first. The visceral clutch of anger simmers inside of him, a heat of gargantuan proportions boiling his blood. Eliott imagines this is what one would feel like just before committing a heinous crime.

His interaction with the stranger barely sticks to Eliott’s mind, more focused on the way Lucas presses close to his back. His hands shake with barely constrained fury but he doesn’t move, afraid Lucas will fall if Eliott isn’t there to hold him up. “You can fuck right off or I swear to god.”

The man raises his hands, chuckles ringing malicious as he shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Eliott doesn’t care for his cryptic bullshit. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His smile is visible in the dark and Eliott’s been around enough of those with questionable morals to pinpoint the lack of kindness in it. “Fine.” He tilts his head as if to catch a final glimpse of Lucas but Eliott tucks Lucas in tight behind him— this guy doesn’t deserve to even look at him.

When the sound of a car engine fades out, Eliott turns around, engulfing Lucas as best as he can, hoping that his embrace would provide a temporary shelter from it all. He knows it’s impossible, knows he can’t do much on his end other than watch with powerless clarity as painful sobs wrack the small body in his arms. He repeats a litany of apologies into Lucas’ hair. “I have you, I have you.”

Their walk home is silence in its strangest form. Eliott realizes there’s something wrong, he can feel it at the tips of his fingers but he puts it down to Lucas gathering his thoughts and lets him be.

“Lucas,” he says as the apartment comes into view. “I know we haven’t… I don’t… listen, can I stay with you for the night? I’ll sleep on the couch, anything, I just want to be there.”

Silence.

Eliott bites his cheek, fidgeting nervously when Lucas continues to not say anything. He chances a glance at the boy beside him and sees him looking straight ahead, expression blank as if nothing’s been said.

“Thanks,” is all Lucas says once they reach the steps to the building, failing to acknowledge Eliott’s request.

“Lucas, wait!”

Unheard, just like the last time.

There’s something really, really wrong.

Eliott picks at his head, staring up at what he knows to be the window to Lucas’ apartment. He tells himself he’ll only wait until the lights flicker on, but seconds turn to minutes and the window remains dark. Chest tightening, Eliott changes his mind. He’ll wait until someone goes in or exits the building, will plant himself outside of Lucas’ door— he doesn’t care if Lucas or Yann don’t want to see his face right now, all he wants is to make sure that Lucas stays safe for the rest of the night.

Except the next person to exit the doors is Lucas himself, Champ cradled in his arms.

“Why are you not inside?” Eliott is familiar with the feeling of helplessness but it always pertains to his own mind, his own body. He’s rarely ever so taken off guard that he doesn’t know how to make it better for someone else. And yet here he stands, frozen with panic, speechless in the face of the one he loves most.

Yann isn’t home, Lucas is hard-pressed on buying extra locks for their door, and there’s no way Eliott is letting him back inside the apartment all alone.

“Lucas,” Eliott reaches out, wants nothing more than to cradle Lucas’ face in between his hands, but he’s afraid of what touching him would do. “Come back to me.” It sounds unsteady even to his own ears and maybe Eliott’s having a little trouble breathing, but he’s more desperate for Lucas to meet his eyes than worry about his next inhale.

Lucas doesn’t. Come back to Eliott, that is.

The entire walk up to his apartment, and then the walk back to Eliott’s are both filled with a strained distance that has nothing to do with physical proximity. Eliott’s no longer surprised when Lucas doesn’t answer any of his questions but he keeps firing off either way, hoping against all odds that something would click. But it doesn’t work that way, he knows. He, of all people, should know better.

He tries again once they’re inside the safety of Eliott’s home. “Lucas, are you with me?” Eliott asks and he’s not. He’s not.

Running out of options, Eliott’s hand hovers over his mom’s contact info, his dad’s, Idris’, Lucille’s— he just wants someone to tell him what to do.

In the end he doesn’t get to call anyone, as a loud thud comes from the bathroom where he’d left Lucas and Eliott trips over himself in his rush, crashing into the kitchen counter, banging his arms against the potted plant hanging in the living room.

But the pain from those clumsy little accidents is nothing compared to the sight of Lucas crying on the floor, blue eyes running red from the force of his tears. “Lucas?”

“Eliott.” His voice is so quiet, so broken that it takes Eliott down to his knees, colliding harshly against the tiled floors as he brings Lucas into the circle of his arms. Tears gather in the corners of Eliott’s eyes but he knows for certain that they’re not from the sting of his fall.

“Don’t let me go back,” Lucas pleads, breath caught between one word and the other.

“You’re never going back,” Eliott swears on his life.

Lucas quiets down after what feels like hours upon hours of tears and stuttering breaths. Eliott knows he isn’t asleep, though— his wet lashes brush softly against the skin of Eliott’s neck for every blink. Left without much option, Eliott detangles their legs and carefully lifts Lucas into his arms, a mustard seed of hope swelling in his chest when Lucas twitches at the movement. There’s a pause as Eliott waits for the boy to protest, grumble for Eliott to put him down, he can walk on his own.

It doesn’t come, so Eliott goes to tuck him into bed, receives no protest when he quietly dresses Lucas in the clothes he’s brought out. Lucas’ eyes remain downcast the entire time, immovable no matter how many times Eliott brushes a hand through his hair, wipes at the tear tracks smeared on his cheeks.

Lucas doesn’t sleep until well past two in the morning. Eliott doesn’t sleep at all.

“You okay, honey?”

His mama looks like a whole different person in private, Eliott’s always marvelled at her ability to switch off just like that. Her eyes are all clear skies and motherly affection, no trace of the savage G.E Demaury to be found as her hands card gently through his hair.

He wants to tell her so badly, but this is Lucas’ story to share. Involving his parents to ask for help with anything is a foreign concept to Lucas and would make this a bit more complicated, yes, so Eliott will just have to wear patience like it’s going out of style.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, still groggy from his nap.

“Do you wanna wait for me to finish up here and I can drive you back?”

“Uh…” Eliott rubs his eyes, forcing his brain to catch up with his mama’s words. He checks his phone before answering, blinking while his eyes adjust to the brightness of his screen.

lucallemant Do you wanna come over for tonight? I know we were just together but It’s fine if you’re gonna be back too late though

He thinks he’s actually physically melting just from reading those. “It’s okay, I have to get going now.”

srodulv If I didn’t fall asleep I’d be begging you to come over anyway

lucallemant You were asleep at your mom’s work??

srodulv 😂 See you soon ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ☹️ ♥️

lucallemant ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️ ♥️

srodulv 😊 ♥️

He stops to get some take out on the way, knowing Yann will be there and would most likely not be so chummy with Eliott after the whole thing from the past few weeks. He figures he can extend a truce through food— the way to a man’s heart and all.

When he knocks on Lucas’ door, he hears a couple of thuds, some rapid, illegible whispering, and then the door finally opens only for Lucas to catapult himself into Eliott’s arms. The door slams shut behind him and Eliott might just be seeing things but he’s pretty sure that’s a glimpse of Yann’s unimpressed form standing on the other side of the door.

“Hi,” Lucas breathes out, one arm slung around Eliott’s neck while the other is bent awkwardly behind him, holding onto the wriggling doorknob as if to keep a ravenous beast from escaping.

Uh oh.

“Hi,” Eliott greets back. “On a scale of Champ to Jurassic Park, how scared should I be of Yann right now?”

Lucas bites his lip and Eliott can’t help it— he kisses him before Lucas can respond. He means for it to be a chaste touch, but Lucas lets go of the knob (thankfully no longer rattling) and throws both arms around Eliott, pressing closer and opening his lips to deepen the kiss. Eliott lets himself indulge in it but is quickly brought back to reality when he tries to wrap both arms around Lucas only for the take out bag to hit Lucas’ ass with a dull thunk.

“Ow, what the fuck.” Lucas pulls away, spinning on the spot as he looks for the offender.

“Sorry,” Eliott laughs, lifting the bag. “I bought food. Peace offering.”

“Oh my god, you’re so smart,” Lucas says, sounding genuinely pleased. “I apologize in advance though, he thinks he’s my dad sometimes.”

“Damn right!” Yann shouts from behind the door.

“Jesus.” Lucas mutters under his breath. “You ready?”

Eliott nods, rehearsing the quick speech he’d made up in his head during the ride back to Lucas’ place. All that preparation’s for nothing, however, when all Yann does is look at him when the door finally opens. He looks at Eliott like he’d done weeks ago, when Eliott had taken Lucas home after the encounter with his father, unspoken understanding passing between the two of them as easy as that.

I technically have no right to be mad but I am, Yann’s usually kind eyes are hardened earth. There’ll be hell to pay if you pull that shit again, the look in them all but screams mistrust.

Eliott nods, hoping Yann also understands his most sincere but wordless response— never again.

The stare off probably only lasts a few seconds but to Eliott, it feels like an eternity before Yann’s eyes start to squint, one hand reaching for the take out bag that Eliott has stuck in the space between the two of them. Slowly, Yann takes a hold of it, snatches the bag from Eliott’s grip, and sniffs into it. He’s still squinting at Eliott as he walks backwards to take the food inside the kitchen.

“Okay, weird but blessedly silent. I’ll take it,” Lucas huffs, taking Eliott’s hand and dragging him past the living room and into the little hallway. Belatedly, Eliott realizes that they’re headed straight for the bedroom, Lucas marching them towards the door like a man on a mission.

“Don’t you wanna eat?” Eliott asks, pulling back to slow Lucas down. “I bought that for you too.”

“Later, I just,” Lucas pauses, his door already wide open once they reach it. “I have to ask you something.”

Well that doesn’t sound foreboding at all. Eliott clears his throat. “Okay.”

They arrange themselves on the foot of the bed, legs crossed and facing each other. When Lucas starts fidgeting, Eliott reaches over to intertwine their fingers together.

“I know we joked about it before… or more like just yesterday actually… but uh,” Lucas starts, looking around the room to avoid meeting Eliott’s eyes head on. “So Marie’s home now and I’m taking Champ back to her on Thursday.”

“Okay,” Eliott says, smiling when Lucas discreetly looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Okay, um.” Lucas takes a deep breath and spills the rest out on a long exhale. “My mom will be there too and I was wondering if you’d like to come?” He’s wincing by the time the question ends and Eliott, endeared, can only stare. “Maybe? You don’t have to. I understand if it’s too early or whatever—”

Eliott brings their tangled hands up to his lips and rains down kisses to the back of Lucas’ palms until he shuts up.

“I’ll come,” he says, and then after a short silence continues with, “I’d love to.”

Lucas’ relief is palpable.

“Okay. That’s… that’s good.”

“You’re cute when you’re all nervous like this,” Eliott teases, wanting to see Lucas’ smile. Sure, it’s only been a couple of minutes since he’s last seen it but Eliott’s one greedy motherfucker when comes to Lucas.

“What?” The corner of Lucas’ lips tilts up, but it’s not quite the smile Eliott’s looking for.

“You’re all nice and cute when you’re nervous. No room for snarking or swearing at me.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, it was good while it lasted.”

“Shut up!” Lucas laughs, kicking at Eliott’s knee.

“Oh you’re kicking me now too, my god, such violence from a tiny human.”

“You’re so dumb.” Lucas pushes at his shoulder and Eliott goes down easily, but not before winding an arm around Lucas so that his boyfriend falls on top of him in their descent. “Such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Eliott retorts as cheesily as can be, grinning when Lucas laughs again, eyes scrunched and mouth open.

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah, there’s one way to shut me up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re really good at it.”

Lucas leans down and Eliott feels the smile on his lips. The kisses start off as innocent pecks, short and dry, until Lucas brushes their noses together and teases the tip of his tongue in between Eliott’s slightly parted lips.

Eliott surges up then, locking their lips together as he moves, sitting upright with his arms still secured around Lucas. His boyfriend goes along with it, easily shuffling around so that he’s sat comfortably on Eliott’s lap, hands slightly cold against the back of Eliott’s neck, but the latter doesn’t mind— Lucas’ mouth is scorching enough to make up for it.

His jacket gets tossed to the floor at some point and his hands wander inside Lucas’ hoodie, searching for the warmth of his skin under, encouraged by the way Lucas tightens his arms around Eliott’s shoulders when he runs a hand from the nape of Lucas’ neck down to the dip low on his back. The intensity reminds him of their first time— only slightly, because Eliott doesn’t think anything could come close to that night. But he recalls the warm weight of Lucas on his lap, against the wall, over him, under him. Recalls the way he’d jokingly asked Lucas how many fingers he’s holding up. How Lucas had very non jokingly slipped the two fingers in his mouth and licked around them until Eliott lost his mind.

The memory of it has heat rushing up and down Eliott’s body in frantic jolts, melting away his higher functions until he finally flips them over, gently laying Lucas down below him just like he’s always done. His fingers lightly dance along the line of Lucas' jeans and the latter lets him, Lucas’ hands exploring the wide expanse of Eliott’s back under his shirt.

And that’s something new— not Lucas touching him no, but rather the confidence he exudes in bed. Eliott doesn’t think he’d ever forget the shakiness of Lucas’ breath, the furious drumming of his pulse, the flinches he’s tried so hard to cover up. Eliott’s noticed every single one of them, often pausing to suggest for them to stop only for Lucas to hold him by the sides of his face and mutter a determined, keep going.

Back then he couldn’t figure out if there’s a story behind it, or if Lucas is only nervous about being intimate with someone else. Now that he knows, can extrapolate the details from what Lucas has told him so far, Eliott’s heart is close to bursting with the realization of how much trust Lucas has placed in his hands that very first time. Of how much trust he continues to have in Eliott despite all that’s happened.

I love you, his touch speaks, lingering and light over the smooth skin of Lucas’ waist.

I love you, his eyes repeat, insistent, hopeless, as they meet Lucas’ wide, adoring gaze.

I love you, his mouth whispers, soundless against the brush of Lucas’ lips, plush softness falling open under the gentle touch of Eliott’s tongue.

I love you, he wants to say, out loud, with all his anxious, fragile heart but what comes out instead is a nearly inaudible, “You’re so beautiful.”

Maybe someday, he’ll be able to speak as it is. Someday, he’ll work up the courage to stop hiding behind soft touches and pretty words. But as Eliott opens his eyes on a slow blink, he looks down at Lucas and catches the most tender of smiles directed up at him. Maybe words aren’t needed right now. For Lucas, in this moment, maybe Eliott is enough.

“No, you,” Lucas retorts childishly, arching up to press a giggle into Eliott’s amused smile.

“This is a losing battle, baby.” Eliott nuzzles his cheeks, nose instinctively wrinkling when Lucas kisses the tip of it. The sweltering heat has cooled between them, replaced by a softer kind of warmth.

“Yeah, your losing battle,” Lucas says, trying to shift from under Eliott’s weight. “Baby,” he adds in a whisper, smile cheeky when Eliott’s head snaps up to look at him. He sputters, unfairly flustered at hearing Lucas use that pet name, any pet name in fact, for the first time—

“Are you being a brat?” Eliott tries to keep his voice stern, but he’s pretty sure his eyes give it away as Lucas dissolves into helpless giggles. “Are you being a brat?” he repeats a little louder, hands splayed widely over Lucas’ sides, curling up where his boyfriend is most ticklish.

“No!” But it’s too late, Eliott’s already found his weakest spots and proceeds with the attack, relentless despite Lucas’ half formed begging in between his laughter. “Eliott, no! Wait!” he squeaks, turning red when one of Eliott’s hands slide up to tickle at his neck.

Eliott only stops when Lucas, breathless and teary-eyed, pouts pitifully up at him. Honestly, what human being with a heart could resist that? So he leans down and brings the jut of Lucas’ bottom lip in between his teeth, waiting until his boyfriend opens his mouth on a groan before diving in for a kiss. Lucas’ hands immediately tangle themselves into Eliott’s hair, legs pulling up to wrap around him as if Eliott has any batshit plans of leaving the bed any time soon. Eliott’s shirt is halfway off his back when Lucas’ door creaks open.

They barely let up, both expecting to see Yann coming to interrupt them for whatever reason but the entry way is empty.

“What—”

Soft, fast-paced panting is their answer and Eliott’s completely unprepared for when Lucas shoves him off the bed with all his might— Eliott hangs onto the sheets to keep from cracking his head open.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Lucas shouts, dragging Eliott back up to the center of the bed. “I just— Champ’s just a baby, she can’t see that!”

Eliott doesn’t know whether to agree or laugh. He figures responding with a deadpan she’s just a dog won’t go over too well with Lucas so he keeps that thought to himself. With a sigh, Eliott smooths down his shirt and walks over to where Champ is still panting happily up at them.

“Are you happy now?” He asks the dog, crouching closer to her level and tapping her tiny nose with a finger. He carries her in his arms on his way out to the living room, turning back to see Lucas attempting to fix his hair as if Yann doesn’t already know what they’ve been up to, alone in the room for at least half an hour. “Come on, baby, let’s keep Yann company before he decides to take back my rights.”

#skam france #elu fic #elu insta au #fictag #there are about 20 variations of this chapter #lays down #chapter warning: ch11 flashback #the eliott pov i've been hiding

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sergeanttpoliteness · 6 years

Text

➹tickle war➹(miles morales x reader)

Requested by @ponyboys-sunsets ➝ GIVE ME ANYTHING WITH MILES PLEASE GOOD LORD I LOVE HIM literally just y/n and him being super h*ckin cute! like cuddling and we get in like a tickle fight or something and it’s just so cute!

Did you really have a good cuddling session if it doesn’t turn into a tickle fight?

word count: 3.1k

a/n: oof, i had some terrible writer’s block so finishing this was the most fulfilling thing ever omg. hello @ whoever’s reading this! i’m sorry this request took so long, i really need to learn how to write faster lol, but it’s here and it’s short but cute and i love it. i didn’t really edit it tho so if there are any mistakes i’m sorry. i forgot to say this last post but holy shit thank you so much for over 150 followers! and 620 notes on my first peter b. story (working on part 2 btw wink)??? the heck?? that’s nuts, i hope every single one of you enjoy what i write (: request are open if anyone is interested, especially since valentines day is so soon, so feel free to send something if you want! also i’ve decided that mcdonald’s in miles’ universe is called mcdonnie’s bc why not lmao

You could be too messy sometimes. Things to add to your next year resolutions (you were also too lazy to start right now— again, one more addition to the list): for the love of future you, stop throwing stuff wherever just because you don’t have the energy or will to properly place it in its appropriate spot. If only you’d worked on that flaw earlier, for right now you had your toothbrush inside your mouth— your tongue crying out from the icy pinch of the mint— frantically rummaging through your room, seeking for your favorite jacket. The weather that night didn’t necessarily call for the use of a coat, and it’s not that you were the fashionista of the generation (you tried your best… most of the time), but it was the last detail your outfit needed for it to be impeccable, and of course you’d turn your room upside down just to find it. It wasn’t as disastrous— perhaps for future you, yeah— but at least you got ahold of those pants that had been missing for weeks which sweetly hugged your figure in all the right places, along with a two-year-old calculator (hey, no more asking your classmates for an extra one) that’d do wonders for your brain during math class.

In the midst of your hunt, a clatter outside caught your attention. No big deal; you did live in New York, after all— the complete opposite of a ghost town. However, you later realized it wasn’t outside. No, it was your window. It happened again— clink! You recoiled, a small yelp escaping your throat. When it continued, you contemplated running away and calling your parents, frightened like a small child who suspects there’s a monster under their bed; but the detective in you (and stupidity, since this is exactly how people die in horror movies) drove you to investigate. You opened the curtains with a determined attitude, your expression hard and stern, but that temporary bravery fled out of your body the instant you laid your eyes upon the dark faceless figure staring back at you. You screamed— or tried to, taking in mind the toothpaste— scrambling to grab the nearest object to attack. But your vision adjusted once the light from your bedroom illuminated the intruder, and your rushing heartbeat eased with the laughing face of your boyfriend.

You rolled up your window, a distressed crease between your eyebrows. “Mwolth, whot thwo fwock!” You exclaimed through the abundance of toothpaste, tilting your head back to stop it from leaking through the sides of your mouth. Miles’ snickers, although adorable, heated your cheeks further from the humiliation.

“Sorry! I didn’t think it’d scare you that much.”

“Y—” You began, but raised a finger, telling him to wait, and ran to the bathroom. After spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth and sink in the record time of six seconds, you barged back into your room and to your open window. He was nowhere to be seen, until you looked out in search of the boy and your vision shifted below you: he sat against the brick wall, his knees close to his chest. You sighed, rubbing your eye as you chuckled at him. “You’re one hell of a boy.”

He showed you a crooked grin. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s good. Why didn’t you just, uh, I don’t know— knock on my door like a normal person?”

“Well, ‘cause I’m not like other guys,” He joked, his voice husky and mysterious, a smolder adorning his face. You closed your eyes as you laughed and he shrugged. “I just wanted to be a romantic boyfriend, y’know, and throw rocks at your window!”

You let out a dreamy sigh, fanning yourself. “So romantic, giving me a heart attack.”

“What can I say? I’m the master of romance.”

“Alright, master of romance, get in before one of my neighbors sees you and faints.” You waved your hand before walking away, continuing to ransack your dresser. Miles climbed the rest of the wall and up to the opening casually with his hands inside his pockets, as if it were the most common ability a teenager could ever have. He gasped when he entered and took in the chaos your room had become: the floor cluttered with crumpled schoolwork and socks (why did you have so many socks?), a mountain of pajamas on your bed, and the mess only incremented as you tossed and additional shirt on your desk.

“What the hell happened here?” He frowned, stuck where he stood due to the path full of obstacles. You cursed under your breath and slammed the cabinet closed, moving on to the last one.

“I can’t find my jacket,” You grumbled, your scowl exchanged by a puzzled stare as a shirt you wore when you were eight dangled in front of you. “God, I really need to take out a lot of stuff.”

Miles jumped from each clean spot to another, pausing when he noticed an old broken Spider-Man keychain tangled with a wool friendship bracelet. He carefully grasped it with his fingers, his mouth twitching. “I’m not surprised.”

You glanced back at him, your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

His face twisted at your question as he laughed. “Y/N, I love you, but you can really be the messiest person at times. Like, look!” He jangled the keychain and your eyes lit up, your hand reaching out to take it. “This thing is from like seven years ago— I got it from McDonnie’s, too. I bet you ‘accidentally’ misplaced it and it just disappeared.”

“Dude! I was so sad when I lost this keychain, I blamed this kid in my class and said that he stole it. Apparently he didn’t,” You mumbled sheepishly, and then hissed when you saw the purple and black bracelet wrapped around the metal ring. “I used to be friends with this girl and she gave me this bracelet.”

“What happened to her?”

“Our friendship ended when I accidentally dropped her hamster down the stairs.”

His eyes widened in horror, but moments later he was wheezing as he sat down on your bed. “Damn, Y/N.”

“Look, I felt terrible afterwards. I just wanted to see it roll in the plastic ball thingy,” You grimaced, apologizing in your head to the spirit of the unfortunate creature you accidentally murdered. Before you started crying, though, the irritation bubbled up in your chest and you rubbed your temples. “I still can’t find my jacket!”

“I can give you my jacket, i-if you want.” Miles offered shyly, flustered and ready to slip off his coat.

He paused when you rested your hand on his shoulder, which later came up to playfully poke his cheek. “What a cutie. But I don’t want you to freeze to death, not exactly the date that I was plan—” You stepped on something and you peeped down. You cried out for the exact article of clothing you just wasted ten minutes searching for peeked out from under your bed. “Oh, found it!” You gasped, lifting the jacket, hugging it as if you’d just found your long-lost child after sixteen years. You slipped your arm inside one sleeve, your other hand simultaneously tugging Miles’ while you prepared to leave your room.

“Shouldn’t we clean this up before we leave?” He gestured to your surroundings. You scanned the disorder, biting your lip as you deeply considered it, your skin itching because of the area identical to a wreckage.

You dismissed your discomfort with a whine, pulling his wrist again and dragging him through the mess and out of the room with you. “I can do that later, let’s go!”

You didn’t exactly know where you were going; so when you jumped off your apartment complex’s stairs and into the sidewalk, you turned around and stared at Miles like an expectant puppy willing to follow its owner to the end of the world. “Where to, captain?” You cheerily asked.

“You’re weirdly hyper today.” Miles pointed out, but not as a complaint— no, not at all. Your euphoria was responsible for his stretching smile and the electricity in his fingertips; it enhanced your beauty to a degree that it was blinding, a supergiant star whose radiance fondly enveloped the boy and heated up his entire body with its dripping gold. It was a heat wave he’d willingly succumb to— he’d float in your grace, suffocate with your allure, feel it all over as you happily linked your arms together, sending that spark running through his veins.

“I guess it’s just the rush you get on a Friday night, you know?” Yes, that was definitely it— it’s not like you took a power nap you woke up from twenty minutes ago, and consequently, had to inhumanly speed through your steps to get ready before Miles arrived; what are you talking about? But it also was almost impossible not to be as joyous when you’d missed Miles’ presence for an entire week. Yes, phone and video calls patched up that loneliness and longing, but it was just a bandaid for a larger wound— you didn’t know you could be so needy; a surprise, indeed, when you’d find yourself craving to jump through your cell phone’s screen and snuggle into the boy’s embrace. “I’m also really glad to see you, though.” You bashfully admitted.

“It was just a week.” He laughed, except that he’d missed your touch just as much, if not more. And you weren’t offended that he didn’t kiss your forehead and reveal he did as well, really, because you knew the truth by the way he walked so unnecessarily close to you in spite of the broad path.

You snuggled your head on his shoulder, sighing in bliss. “I don’t care, you still owe me a lot of cuddles. And I also don’t have no idea where you’re taking me— maybe you’re about to kill me, or something.” You said lowly, your eyes wide.

“It’s… kinda a desolate place, but I promise I didn’t pick it so I could kill you.” He giggled, bumping his shoulder into yours. You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him, scoffing.

“That’s exactly what a murderer would say.”

Gladly, your claims that Miles was planning to execute you in the middle of nowhere were nothing but an amusing belief; that surely would’ve been a lamentable twist, especially for you. However, you somewhat started to wish it had been your fate as you panted heavily and dropped on your knees on the muddy grass of the seemingly endless hill you and Miles were climbing. “I give up,” You breathed out, sprawling your limbs defeatedly. “I think I’m gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

Miles glanced back at you and rolled his eyes before resuming his strides. “God, your P.E grade is probably terrible.” You didn’t reply, though, and he didn’t hear any exaggerated struggling noises. He turned around, his gaze settling on your body which appeared dead resting in the same place you stopped. “C’mon, babe, we’re almost there!”

You didn’t budge, solely weakly waving your hand at him. “I was nice knowing you, but I think this is where I meet my demise.”

He looked heavenward, taking a deep breathe to recharge his soul. You were damning the gloomy clouds for obscuring the glimmering stars when Miles’ face, staring down at you, popped into your sight. You smiled, your hand reaching up to try and touch his cheek as you cracked up. “Hi.” You said innocently with a childlike expression.

The corner of his mouth lifted upwards. “Hi. Get up.”

“It’s really comfy down here.”

“I bet, probably better than the hammock that’s up the hill.” He smirked when he attracted your attention.

“A hammock? You got a hammock up there?” You inquired in disbelief. His grin vanished, and his voice was high pitched as he dubiously shrugged.

“Kind… of? It’s not your usual hammock you’re probably thinking about.” He gently nudged you with his foot and you complained, turning to lie on your side. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

The words ‘piggyback ride’ excited you too much, almost to the point that it could be used as a weakness against you as you scrambled to your feet and moments later leapt onto Miles’ back. You were lucky your boyfriend had super strength, you thought, especially for instances where your laziness and lack of durability got the best of you while walking up the steepest of hills you’d ever witnessed. You’d endure your short workout again or climb every mountain, though, if it meant you’d get to curl up against Miles on a hammock made out of his webs; your body resting on top of his, your legs tangled like an unbreakable knot, your mind fuzzy from the loving circles the boy caressed on your scalp while your thumb rubbed his shoulder. It was the type of intimacy no other could compare to— just the two of you, immersed and drenched with the eternal adoration you shared. The security and serenity of his embrace overwhelmed you enough that at any time the breeze would slightly swing the crib, you’d flinch, similar to when you jerk awake after almost dozing off. His chest vibrated with his giggles and you gazed up at him. The boy had been boring into you for the past few minutes; it wasn’t necessary to see it, you could just feel it (how could you not, after all, considering your close bodies?).

“This hammock kinda sucks.” You breathed out, feeling his arms squeeze your waist when the hammock wiggled harder.

“How can you say that?! It’s literally made out of webs.”

“Miles, it’s so small— I feel like if I even breathe too much I’m going to fall off.”

“So ungrateful, man.” He grumbled, shaking his head with a half-smile that stretched wider after you left a tender kiss on his jaw.

“I just don’t want to break a bone, you get me?” You sighed in relief when the wind, your current nemesis, calmed down. “That would kinda suck.”

“It would be funny.”

You poked his stomach and he squeaked like a stuffed animal who had a tag that read ‘try me!’. He grabbed your wrist, pouting down at you. “Take that back or you’ll be the one with a broken bone.” You warned, but Miles returned the jab, and your body jerked away from him as much as it could.

“If I fall, just know that you’re going down with me.” He raised a playful eyebrow. You tried to prod him again, but the boy didn’t allow you to get your hand near him by slapping it, poking your rib immediately after. You let out a malicious laugh, for he had no idea what was coming to him as you went in to tickle him for real this time. It wasn’t as easy, though; Miles put up quite the fight, one arm shielding his stomach while the other pushed your evil hands away. “You’re… entering… a dangerous… zone right now—” His sentence was repeatedly interrupted as you two fought a battle which would only result in falling to your deaths. Although he could only protect himself for so long, because in the brief millisecond he remained unguarded, your fingers found themselves attacking his abdomen. You straddled his waist as he screamed with laughter and writhed underneath you, kicking his feet all over the place.

“Y/N—“ He yelped, his eyes crinkled and glossy. “P-please!”

You stopped— you were no ruthless demon who tortured people with tickles; still, your shoulders bounced up and down at the sight of his wide eyes as he attempted to catch his breath and regain his strength. “I won!” You laughed, squishing his cheeks to taunt him, leaning down closer to his face with a smug smile. “Sorry.”

“I’ll only forgive you if you give me a kiss.” The seduction and cheekiness laced in both his voice and eyes were a good try, but it simply made you snicker more at how goofy the boy appeared. It did work in some way, though, because it fueled the desire to meet his lips further. Who were you to not comply to such yearning, anyway? Miles took ahold of your hands, intertwining your fingers, leaning up to catch your expecting mouth. You rested your hand on his chest to deepen the kiss, the swaying of the hammock a long-forgotten worry as all you could care about was the boy under you, his dainty and nervous fingertips lingering on your hip, the prickling that engulfed you when you felt his hammering heartbeat under your touch. He’d captivated you entirely, beckoning you to dive into a pool of his warmth that clouded all your senses; enough that you didn’t perceive his hands sneaking up your sides until—

You squealed into his mouth, a jolt running through your gut when he began to tickle you. You pulled away from the kiss and struggled to breathe as a fit of giggles left you, feebly pushing him away. In an attempt to move away, though, you leaned too much to your right— oh, shit was all you thought as you lost your balance. A short cry was the only sound you made as you began to plummet down to the grass. Your last moments were nice, you guessed; at least you got to make out with Miles for a while before dying, so perhaps you could accept your death peacefully. But you didn’t hit the ground. You breathed heavily and opened your eyes, the world upside down until you strained your neck to look up at the sky; you hung by your foot, which had entangled itself with the white string of the hammock, and your eyes drifted to Miles’ gigantic eyes.

“Holy shit!” You shouted, your body going limp when it became too tiring to continue staring up. “Holy shit! I almost fucking died!”

“Are you okay?!” Miles questioned, panicked. You heard a thump and soon your boyfriend stood in front of you, his hands on his head. When he saw you helplessly flailing your arms, however, he doubled over with laughter, slapping his knee.

“Miles! Please help me!”

“Okay, okay— uh, do you have like a knife, or something?”

“Why the hell would I have a knife?!”

“I-I don’t know! Self-defense, maybe. Let me see—” He dug through his pockets, and your (already red) face went pale when he took out his keys, flashing you a sympathetic tight-lipped smile.

It was going to be a long night.

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #sm:itsv #spider man into the spider verse #imagine #miles morales one shot #gender neutral #fem! reader #male!reader #spider man

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flightfoot · 5 years

Text

A Convergence of Apollos Chapter 6

This chapter is dedicated to @garecc, who I’m pretty sure ascended to a higher plane of existence after reading it.

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Lester/Mortal Apollo’s POV

SHE WAS HERE.

My memory loss had taken SO MUCH from me - my memory of Mother’s face, my first meeting with Hermes, even my birth was lost to me now. But worst of all was forgetting my sister.

I’d been forgetting more and more. After being flayed - after having my essence disrupted and torn apart, ready to be consumed - many more of my memories had left me. While I had once only occasionally, momentarily forgot my sister’s face, I couldn’t remember it at all now. Sometimes... sometimes I even forgot her name.

That was bad.

Forgetting that I HAD a twin was worse.

I’d woken up like on any other day in Camp Jupiter. Got up, got dressed, ate breakfast, trained (I’d long since abandoned the notion that since I couldn’t be divinely excellent at something, it wasn’t worth trying to improve), and washed up. Over the course of the day I’d had a weird nagging sensation. I knew SOMETHING was wrong, but couldn’t think of what.

I met with Reyna to discuss the plans for the new temples that Jason had entrusted me with.

I’d been idly looking at his diorama as Reyna talked about what order and what materials to build the temples with, when she asked me something.

“Hey, Apollo? What do you think of this design for Diana’s shrine? I know Jason did his best and most of his designs are pretty good, but you’d be a better judge of what she’d like.”

I startled slightly, the nagging sensation growing until it practically pounded against my skull. Did I get a baby god stuck in there somehow? Oh gods, I hoped not. Cracking open my skull would NOT turn out well right now.

“-pollo. APOLLO!”

Reyna was in my face, yelling. I focused on her, bringing myself back to reality.

“Y-yes?” I asked.

Reyna looked concerned. “I asked you about Diana and your face contorted. It looked like you were in pain and you stopped responding. Are you alright?”

I grimaced when she said ‘Diana’ again. I should know who that is, shouldn’t I?

My expression was enough of an answer for Reyna. She leaned forwards, “Apollo, you can tell me whatever’s wrong, okay? I’m your friend. And I KNOW about hiding things, about needing to seem strong and invulnerable. But you don’t have to put up a front with me.”

I hesitated. I hated worrying my friends. I still hadn’t told Meg, or anyone else for that matter, just how bad the memory loss had gotten. It’s not like they could do anything about it and they had enough on their plates already. But I really, REALLY needed to talk to someone.

I caved.

“I- I don’t remember who Diana is. I did know, I SHOULD know, but I- I don’t remember. I sh-should know who she is. I- I- I- NEED to know who she is!”

I didn’t know why I was yelling, or why tears had welled up in my eyes.

Reyna looked horrified. “You’ve lost- you’ve forgotten - that much?” she rasped.

“Apollo... Diana’s your twin sister.”

It all came crashing back.

My sister - my twin - one of the people most dear to me -

I’d forgotten she even existed.

I broke down in Reyna’s arms. I didn’t remember much of the next few minutes, just Reyna hugging me close, stroking my hair, telling me that everything would be alright.

But it WASN’T alright. How could it be?

I started keeping a small diary after that. I wrote down everything I could remember, everything that was too precious to lose. I’d already lost so much.

The first sentences: Artemis is your twin sister. Leto is your wonderful mother. Never forget.

I left off Zeus. I didn’t mind forgetting that he was my father for a little while. Sadly that fact seemed to be ingrained in my brain.

But now I needed no reminders.

Artemis, my sister, my twin, was only a few hundred feet away.

I sprinted towards her, exhaustion forgotten.

She looked up at me, no doubt trying to figure out why some random (though fabulously dressed) sixteen-year-old boy was charging at her like the Cretan Bull. Her brow furrowed slightly and she pursed her lips, studying me closely.

I could tell the moment that she checked for my essence. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropping open.

Then I barreled into her like a freight train.

A normal twelve-year-old girl would’ve been sent skidding across the sidewalk. Since my sister was NOT a normal twelve-year-old girl, she stayed rooted to the ground. I, however, had just done the equivalent of running full tilt into a slightly squishy lightpole.

The impact of my very movable self into my immovable sister was NOT pretty.

“OOF!”

I fell backwards, the wind knocked out of me.

“APOLLO!”

Artemis pulled me to my feet, looking me over worriedly. I concentrated on staying upright.

“What- how- why-” she babbled, eyes wide in shock.

I pulled her into a hug. “I- I missed you. I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered hoarsely, tears running down my cheeks.

“Brother...” she murmured. She returned my embrace.

I felt her send a soothing pulse of her power over my body, checking for injuries. I smiled for a moment. I had taught her how to do that. Tough to heal injuries if you don’t know what the injuries are. Most deities don’t need to know much first aid. Most deities don’t fight alongside a pack of badass, eternally young, and most importantly, KILLABLE maidens. My sister may not have been a healer god, but she was no slouch at it either.

I relaxed into her familiar presence... then my mind helpfully reminded me that I HAD had a grievous injury only a few weeks ago. An injury so terrible that it had left a permanent scar on my chest. A scar that the scanning spell would have uncovered.

Artemis let out a strangled gasp. “Apollo...” she forced out. “What... what happened to you?”

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Artemis’s POV

Apollo and I arrived at the Empire State Building shortly before sunset. I wove a compulsion into the Mist, ensuring that no ordinary mortals would be able to see us or approach us. I didn’t want them to be caught up in whatever this was.

I reached out with my divine senses, trying to detect any godly presence. I had no doubt that my brother would also have checked for interference, but as the Goddess of the Hunt, I had far more experience in detecting elusive adversaries. I might have found something that he’d missed.

But there was nothing.

I frowned. Maybe whoever’d pranked Apollo had figured out that he’d gone to see me and had (quite sensibly) decided to cut their losses and flee? I had a bit of a reputation. Few gods messed with me or my followers. Those that DID soon learned better.

That would make sense, but... something about it didn’t sit right with me. I had a nagging feeling that there was more to this than that.

When you hunt dangerous monsters for millennia, you learn to trust your instincts.

It happened a few minutes after we’d arrived. Apollo’d taken to pacing around (he HATES staying still. I should know. I had to share a womb with him) while I stayed perfectly still, keeping careful track of my surroundings.

Honestly I needn’t have bothered. If there was one thing Apollo WASN’T, it was subtle.

The glimmer of a rhinestone caught my eyes. Then the REST of the outfit caught my eye.

Well whoever or whatever this person was, they sure had Apollo’s fashion sense down. Sparkly, golden, and impossible to ignore.

As sparkly boy charged at me, I reached out my essence slightly, examining him as closely as I could.

I felt Him.

My jaw dropped open. No WONDER Apollo had been so certain. I knew of no force in Heaven or Earth that could fake the feeling of my brother’s essence to this degree.

As impossible as it seemed, this boy was...

And then he hit me.

“OOF!”

“APOLLO!” I cried, wincing.

I should probably have tried to cushion his impact, but I was in shock and wasn’t really thinking of the consequences of an apparently mortal Apollo attempting to tackle me. Every other time Apollo’d tried to run me over we’d both been gods, so we’d been on more even footing. Plus that kind of impact wouldn’t even faze a god.

Wait.

He WASN’T A GOD.

He could get hurt EASILY.

I pulled my brother to his feet.

“How- what- why-” I babbled, unable to properly phrase any of my questions. How did this happen? What are you doing here? Why would Zeus do this to you?

Apollo - this was my brother, but HOW - pulled me into a hug. “ I- I missed you. I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured brokenly. I felt the wetness of his tears on my shoulders. “Brother,” I murmured back, wrapping my arms around him.

This- this was beyond Apollo simply not being allowed to see me for a year or so. Sure, the last two times he was banished we weren’t allowed to communicate and it sucked, but he’d never reacted like THIS. There must be something more to it for Apollo to sound so relieved, like he’d thought he’d never see me again.

My blood chilled. Apollo had been turned mortal before, which meant he COULD die, but he hadn’t been placed in dangerous circumstances the last two times this had happened, so he’d never really had to confront what being mortal MEANT.

But this time was different. Even from my quick scan of his core, I could tell that Apollo had barely any godly essence inside that mortal body, less even than most Legacies. His mortal form didn’t look like anything Apollo would choose for himself if he could help it, meaning Zeus probably forced it on him.

All of which led me to wonder; what else was different? How much more vulnerable was my little brother this time?

I pulsed my power through my brother, checking for injuries, both any new ones from colliding with me and fighting the Celedon and any old ones that hadn’t completely healed.

What I found shocked me.

The Celedon didn’t appear to have hurt him at all, and his collision with me didn’t do much more than knock the breath out of him.

But the older injury I sensed more than made up for his lack of current pains.

This- this must have nearly killed him. I nearly choked on my own gasp. At last I was able to form words. “Apollo... what... what HAPPENED to you?”

My brother - my little brother, my baby brother, Zeus, how could you DO this - winced and looked down, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Apollo,” I said firmly, “tell me why there’s scarring from a puncture wound in your abdomen that just BARELY missed your internal organs.”

Whoever did this to my brother would PAY.

“It’s- it’s my fault,” he mumbled. “Caligula captured Meg, Piper, Jason, and myself. He- he was gloating and threatening them. He would have killed them. But - Caligula - he needed me alive. At least right then.”

Apollo raised his face to look at me. I wasn’t surprised to see the tears in his eyes. I had a feeling that there would be a lot more crying from both of us before the evening was over.

Apollo gave a short, wry bark of a laugh, “You know, Caligula’s goal hasn’t changed from the old days. He still wanted to make himself a god, a MAJOR god. He wanted to be the new Apollo.”

I could think of a few ways Caligula could do that. NONE of them ended well for my little brother.

“How...?” I asked, unsure whether I wanted to know the answer.

“He allied himself with Medea. She called back Helios’s essence from his rest, bit by bit. Then she turned her sights on me.”

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady his nerves. I tried to keep outwardly calm. Freaking out now wouldn’t do much good. I needed to hold it together long enough to find out who had hurt my brother. THEN I could lose it.

“Medea needed what little essence I have left. She planned to mix my essence with Helios’s and infuse it into Caligula, making him the new God of the Sun.”

WHAT.

That... that would work. But what it would do to Apollo...

“How was she going to...?” I asked, CERTAIN that I didn’t want to know.

“She tried to flay me alive. She captured me in molten hot chains. Then she started chanting.”

My brother started openly sobbing, what little control he had slipping away. “Sh-She tried to rearrange me, t-take me apart. Destroy everything that made me, ME, until only my power remained. I- I wasn’t needed, wasn’t WANTED. I- I forgot who I was, why I was fighting.”

My baby brother clutched me tighter. I listened to his ragged breath, felt the beating of his heart, reassuring myself that yes, he DID survive. My little brother was still around.

“I- my memories - I - I forgot. I forgot SO MUCH sister!” he cried. “I couldn’t remember Mother’s face, or your face, or even my own NAME!”

My ichor froze. Names have power, ESPECIALLY for gods. For Apollo to forget his...

How close had he been to being lost forever?

And he WOULD have been lost forever, make no mistake on that. Kill a mortal and their soul still existed in the Underworld. Kill a monster and their essence went to Tartarus. Kill a Nature Spirit and their spirit would be reincarnated into a different piece of flora or fauna. Scatter a god’s essence and the possibility remained that they could reform one day. Even Fading didn’t completely destroy a monster or a god, as demonstrated my Medea’s ability to call back Helios’s essence, even if he was only a shadow of his former self.

But what Medea tried to do? Extracting the power from Apollo’s essence, ridding all traces of Apollo himself - of his personality, his memories, his desires, his SOUL - from them? There would have been nothing left of my twin.

Oh, the essence of the sun god could’ve been reclaimed. But it wouldn’t have been Apollo, any more than a corpse was a loved one. It would only be the empty shell that had once held the most important person in my life.

“I- I w-was saved,” he choked out around his sobs, “I- I- regained some of my memories. But n-not all. I- I...!”

He trailed off mumbling.

I asked him softly, “You what?

“I- I- I forgot you, Artemis. I forgot you existed.”

WHAT.

The shock must have been evident on my face. Apollo’s expression crumpled. “I’m- I’m so sorry Artemis. I for-forgot you. I’m a horrible-”

“NO.”

Apollo choked on his words. It took me a moment to realize I’d spoken.

I didn’t regret it. This needed to be said.

“Apollo, you are NOT a horrible ANYTHING, least of all for something you have no control over. YES, I’m shocked and angry, but not at you. NEVER at you. At our Father, at Caligula, at Medea, yes. BUT NOT AT YOU.”

He collapsed into my arms completely. I conjured a thick, cushy rug beneath us and gently let him down until we were both sitting, his arms wrapped around my neck. We sat like this for several minutes as he cried, letting out all the fear, sadness, and guilt he’d been holding in for gods only knew so long. I stroked his hair, singing some of the lullabies that Mother had once sung for us.

After some time, Apollo calmed down, his tears running out.

I didn’t want to ask this. I didn’t want to upset him again, but... I needed to know. And... I think Apollo needed to release all the emotions he’d been bottling up in order to function.

“Apollo, that wound... was it from the flaying?” I asked, already knowing it wasn’t. That wound wasn’t magical, but physical.

He looked ready to break down crying again. I stroked his hair some more, hoping to calm him enough to finish his story.

He took in a deep, shuddering breath and let it out again. When he finally spoke it was with forced calmness. “No. It wasn’t. I did that to myself.”

My mind went blank. I must have heard wrong. That wound was nearly fatal. It WOULD have been fatal without swift medical attention. Did my brother try to...?

Apollo continued speaking while I had an internal meltdown. I think he was afraid that if he stopped, he’d never be able to start again. “When Caligula captured Meg, Jason, Piper, and myself, we were out of options. Piper had been beaten so badly she could barely move and Meg and Jason were being kept captive by venti. I was the only one who could do anything. The only leverage I had... was my own life.”

Of course. Medea couldn’t extract Apollo’s essence from a corpse, not in a way that would be useful. But... but he’d ACTUALLY stabbed himself, not just threatened it. Why...?

Apollo answered my unspoken question. “Caligula didn’t believe that I’d seriously try to kill myself if he didn’t let my friends go. Who would? Gods don’t DO the self-sacrificing thing. And... and I guess he was right. If I seriously, totally believed that I’d be killed when I stabbed myself, I don’t think I could’ve gone through with it. But I didn’t. I knew Medea would heal me. She needed me alive, if only so she could extract my essence and annihilate my soul later. Medea had barely been able to put enough power into the venti to keep Meg and Jason confined. Healing me split her concentration enough that Jason was able to force his way out. B-but... but...!”

My baby brother started crying again. “But Jason... he was able to free Meg and hold off Caligula, but he- he died holding him off, so we could e-escape.”

He let out a sobbing laugh. “Jason... he’d received a prophecy MONTHS ago saying that it was too dangerous for he and Piper to go up against the Emperor alone, that they had to wait for Meg and I. But that if he and Piper sought out the Emperor, one of them would die. And he went with us anyway! He could have run away, refused to come with us. I had no power to compel him. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave the world to Caligula’s mercy. And he couldn’t let Piper die. He went with us KNOWING and ACCEPTING that he would die on that mission. Because the alternatives were unacceptable.”

My brother gave me a grief-stricken look. “He wasn’t the only one to willingly give up their life for someone else that week. There- there was this Pandos. Crest. Cute little guy. He- he just wanted some music lessons. To be a musician. That’s all. He betrayed Caligula, got Meg safely out of his reach in exchange for music lessons. He wanted ukulele lessons.”

Apollo laughed wryly, tears leaking out his eyes. “His hands were WAY too big for a ukulele, but he insisted on learning how to play it, because that’s what I played. He showed us a secret entrance into the Labyrinth, then insisted on standing guard over it. No one asked him to. None of us would have blamed him if he’d decided to just leave after showing us where the entrance was. He’d fulfilled his end of the bargain. We could ask nothing more of him. Yet- yet he stayed. When Medea came, he tried to hold her off. They broke his fingers, beat him up, chained him and dragged him across the Labyrinth, but he STILL refused to let go of that ukulele. If he’d let go... I wouldn’t be here anymore.”

“Remember when I said that I was saved from flaying? The only reason I was able to hold out that long was due to Grover and Crest disrupting Medea’s chanting. Crest especially. He played discordant chords, breaking Medea’s concentration. He could’ve run. He didn’t KNOW me. He was free. Medea had more important things to do than chase after a rogue Pandos. He didn’t owe me anything.”

“But he stayed, Artemis. He- he stayed. He kept on playing the ukulele. Medea warned him that she’d attack him if he plucked another note.”

He looked up at me pleadingly. What he was pleading for, I don’t think even HE knew. For comfort? Forgiveness for some perceived failure? “She stabbed him in the gut. But he kept on playing. His fingers were broken, his blood stained his fur red, but he DIDN’T. STOP.”

My brother clutched at me like a drowning man to the one thing keeping him afloat. “He didn’t stop, Artemis,” he muttered wildly. “He didn’t stop.”

I pet his hair while he mumbled, waiting for Apollo to collect himself enough to finish. He NEEDED this. He needed to mourn, to feel SAFE enough to mourn.

Judging from what Apollo had told me, I doubted that he’d felt safe in a long time.

Apollo choked out the rest of the story. “I- I- promised him that I’d teach him every chord, that we’d play together with the Nine Muses for all of Mount Olympus... and then he crumpled to Dust in front of me.”

He fixed me with a resolute stare, his puffy and bloodshot eyes reflecting his sudden determination. “Jason asked me to make him a promise. To remember what it’s like to be human. And I will. Crest, Jason... they barely knew me. Yet they were willing to die trying to help me, to protect me. How many gods would do the same? They... they were heroes.”

He laughed bitterly. “How badly have we treated them, Artemis? How often have we sent them to their deaths, embroiled them in our own petty godly squabbles without caring about the consequences? After all, it’s not like they’re GODS,” he spat.

He seemed to calm down slightly then. “But you... you already knew that,” he stated quietly. “You’ve always known mortals’ worth. It just took all of this for me to catch up with you.”

I bit my lip. Apollo was right. I’d tried to talk to other gods about it in the past, but had given up. Even Apollo hadn’t understood my level of attachment and care for mortals, though he was a lot better than most other gods.

I’d always hoped he’d understand one day.

But not like this. Never like this.

I held my baby brother close as he dissolved into tears for the third time that day.

#a convergence of apollos #artemis #apollo #lester papadopoulos #trials of apollo #toa #the trials of apollo #fanfiction

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uncultured-lettuce · 6 years

Text

Hey hey hey I tried to write---

Hey so I wanted to try and write something for my fave rair pair,,, sorry it's crappy xD This is for @iamvegorott thank you for getting me into this BEAUTIFUL RARE PAIR OOF-- btw, just a warning that I'm adding a couple little headcanons in here such as KOTS real name and Angus's relationship with the other egos! I hope that that's ok! I also made a few spelling/grammar errors here and there so sorry in advance. :D Enjoy!!

It had been around two days, maybe three? Angus couldn't be sure. With the short nights and long days of summer, Angus's sense of time and what hour is was had gotten jumbled and mixed. He had started on... What was it, Monday? He usually doesn't go out on Mondays, they were always bad luck for the hunter. He stayed true to his luck, apparently. He wouldn't have left if it weren't for a certain King he had to get his mind off of..

It had all started when Angus had been forced to one of those unimportant "ego meetings" as Marv addressed them. There had been a new Crank ego, and Marv wanted Angus to get some "social interaction" into him before the survival hunter left for another hunting trip. He had been half happy and half annoyed with the magician's concern. He hadn't expected his older brother to be too concerned about him after moving back into the Septic house, but he had been. Saying stuff about a glitches pet peeves, or a doctor's weird sleep habits. It had honestly weirded Angus the hell out. There were so many new people he didn't even know the names of. He was very very annoyed with these meetings though, they were the only downfall to moving back into the house. They were VERY repetitive and honestly, boring. No excitement what so ever! He almost always fell asleep. Which property wasn't such a bad thing but still. They were the most uninteresting thing in Angus's life.. well, until King showed up. When Angus had layed eyes on that man he felt his heart beat a little faster, and his cheeks just a tad bit hotter. You see, most of the Ipliers were the same, but different in their own ways. For instance, Dark was always wearing eyeshadow, and his walk was always just a little more feminine. Wilford is just a little taller than most of the Ipliers except the Host, and his mustache was somehow pink..? Angus didn't question it..

But king... He was just so.. special. His face had rounder and softer looking features, and his eyes, god, those eyes. They were a sweet caramel color that looked as if they had whole galaxies built into them.. Angus couldn't handle the heat that rushed into his cheeks now. He made up some sorry excuse to leave, and did just that. So to calm his nerves, he started walking...

Leading the lost survival hunter to where he was now. Lost, without much food, and no means of communication. At least there were these weird squirrels that kept following him. They were unsual.. but he wasn't declining the company. It was really too bad he didn't have much hunting materials left, maybe he could've eaten one, but that... just felt kind of wrong. They were only small things, and... well they reminded Angus of King.. Damn, he had left the house specifically so he wouldn't have to think of that man, but here he was daydreaming about the guy again! Shit, how long has he been out here? 2 and a half days at the least... Angus couldn't tell, he had gotten pretty damn lost at least half a day into his "hike," It didn't help that the trees in this particular forest were tall, with dark brown bark and sap that could trap the biggest of animals, and it also kept him from climbing a tree safely. They had weird carvings covering the parts of the trees that weren't coated in sap. Eyes, knives, circles, you name it there was probably a carving somewherw.

The leaves were large and a deep green that came in bundles, keeping the sun out of view from the forest floor. The occasional patch of grass would grant Angus some sense of when or where he was. His food supply had depleted over the past days...

Oh, and hunting? Not completely an option either, seeing as his arrows had run out. Whenever he shot at something, it seems they always keep getting stuck in this stupid sap. It wasn't even that they were hard to get out, no, they were so hard to shoot with! They wouldn't fly right, and kept getting stuck to the bow! At one point, out of frustration, Angus had thrown the arrows and bow before walking off. Now he um... can't find them again..

The squirrels were still there though, keeping the poor hunter company. They made the forest seem a little lighter, and the trees a little less ominous. They were very...giving...? They would give him the occasional nut or acorn. Acasionally bringing a small apple from somewhere. The squirrels seemed particularly excited today though. Maybe another person was here? Ah, but that would be stupid. This was such a secluded part of the forest, no way anyone would be willingly out here. Especially with no paths or trails to guide someone. Angus let that hope shrivel down and set his goals back on finding somewhere for shelter. He was getting tired again, so he needed some place to sleep. Angus hugged his arms as a breeze swept through him, shooting shivers up his spine. Angus's sweaters were seemingly to thin for the constant shade of the forest. He had packed light, thinking he would be out for no more than a couple of hours. A fire sounded like a great idea right about now.

As if hearing Angus's prayers, Angus noticed a huge tree, bigger than any of the others. Upon closer inspection, there seemed to be a large crack in the thick bark, almost like a door. When Angus stepped inside he was greeted by two suprisses. The first being that the huge tree was completely hollow, making for a convenient shelter for the night. The other thing was the surplus of squirrels. There were so many crawling around on the walls and around the stairs leading to a higher level. As Angus took a closer look around the first room, he noticed a huge basket of fruits such as apples, oranges, and bananas. There were also some smaller baskets that squirrels would acasionally grab from, taking two or three nuts and acorns out. There was furniture as well, but it was scarce, only a wood table and a old looking couch that looked absolutely worn down. There was a small fire pit in the middle of the tree near the couch. Not super safe seeing as whoever was in here last was in a tree but Angus wasn't complaining. Only a few squirrels actually acknowledged Angus's existence, and those who did only looked for a meer moment before going back to their duties. Angus dropped his near empty backpack on the ground before basically collapsing on the couch. He had barely any time to take in the rest of his surroundings before he passed out on the couch, drifting off into a well needed sleep.

Angus only woke up a few times in his sleep, and they were only for a few moments. The first time he woke up to the fire lit, and a couple squirrels snuggling up to the tired hunter. He smiled at the warmth they brought and barely acknowledged the blanket on him before the warmth swept into another deep sleep. The second time had been a bit more unusual. He felt as if he was being.. carried? No that doesn't sound right. It felt as if he were floating, but someone was holding him steady. It was only for a moment before he felt himself in someone's arms. They felt strong and comforting. He didn't know who it was, but he couldn't help but curl up I'm their arms. He barely noticed being laid down before he felt those arms leaving him. Not wanting the warmth to go, he hugged at the arms tightly. Then he was falling asleep as those arms held him as he fell asleep again.

...

Angus had a fucking heart attack when he woke up. The first thing he registered was a familiar pair of arms, holding him and keeping him warm.

"What the actual fuck.." Angus whispered, trying not to wake the other person up in case they were a threat. He took a breath, and decided to assess his surroundings. The sunlight coming through the windows set a warm glow throughout the room, illuminating multiple pairs of bows and arrows strewn around the room. Angus's room.

Wait, what?

How was that possible, he was just in a dense forest absolutely lost out of his mind. But... He was in him room, on his bed, being spooned by someone he didn't know. Well, at least he couldn't see who it was. Angus hoped it was his older brother Marv, hugging him and trying to comfort him through his nightmares like he used to do when they were kids. Marvin used to say he could use his big brother magic to scare the nightmares away, but this doesn't feel like Marv. The said magician doesn't have arms a strong as this... As Angus slowly got out of the bed, he realized that his guess of the magician was significantly incorrect.

It was King. The guy he liked, was spooning him for who knows how long! How long had it been?! He was only gone for a day or two... right?? What about that tree? What had happened there? Who got Angus out of there? Why-

"Oh, you're awake! That's good." Angus was snapped out of his thoughts by a quiet voice. It was sweet and soft, and seeing who it was from made Angus's heart melt and his face heat up, probably a light red.

"Y-yeah... Your uh, it's King right?" Angus asked, trying to act as casual as he could. He was also trying his hardest to keep his mind from spinning out of control with all of his thoughts.

"Mhm, and you're Angus the survival hunter. The man who gave me a heart attack when I walked into my house and found a man sleeping on my couch." king laughed, "Not sure if that's a good sign or not to be honest."

Angus chuckled a little before King's words really went to his brain, "Wait, that tree was your house? I thought I was just hallucinating or somethin."

"Nope," King smiled, "I go there when I need to get away from the Iplier Manor. It's very peaceful."

"But... It's so far into the forest.. how do you get there from the manor? How did I get here from there?" Angus questioned, sitting on the bed. King had stopped laying on the bed and had chosen to start sitting cross-legged on the hunter's bed.

"I mean, I know many shortcuts to use when getting there, so getting there only takes half a day at the most. But I had to call Marvin to telleport you back here. You're suprissingly light. So I offered to carry you here, but when we got here you kept hugging my arms, and I didn't want to disturb your sleep so I kinda just took a nap with you y'know?" King spoke hurriedly, and if it wasn't for the turn of his head Angus could have sworn he saw a blush.

"Well, thank you Kin-"

"Isaac, my real name is Isaac." Oh Ki- Isaac was definitely blushing... Wait did he..? No he wouldn't like.... Would he?

Angus blushed at the thought that the squirrel king might actually reciprocate his feelings...

"Thank you Isaac. I probably slept for a long time, "Angus laughed, "...wait holy shit how long was I gone?!"

Isaac flinched at the sudden raised voice, "About 3 and a half days. You probably spent half a day asleep at my house."

Angus nodded along to what King was saying, taking in the others features while he spoke. His eyes seem a little more tired than usual, and he didn't have peanut butter on his face. Without the peanut butter, he looked like a different person. His cheeks were coated in freckles that made him look like the most galaxy Angus had ever seen. All the hunter wanted to do was to kiss and count each little dot. The squirrel king wasn't in his royal clothes as well, he was just in a black T-shirt and jeans, with a smaller, more convenient crown on top of his head. It looked like a clip on crown, and it framed his features and curly hair perfectly...

"Angus? ANGUS!" Isaac yelled, snapping his fingers in front of Angus's face jokingly. "Are you ok? You zoned out a bit."

Angus froze, his face probably a noticable I shade of crimson. "Your really pretty."

Angus hadn't even meant to say that, but the words just felt so natural. He looked at Isaac to see his reaction, feeling just as shocked as the other man was.

Isaac lowered his head a little, blushing as he looked at the ground, "Th-thank you... You a-are too."

Angus beamed, holy shit was this how these things went? Is this how you tell your crush you like them? Angus had no clue. He nervously put his hand on Isaac's.

"H-hey, I really like you.. and not just in a friend way, well obviously but I mean, I think you're really amazing. I just really want to get to know you and you can totally say no but I was wondering if you'd want to maybe go on a date-" Angus's rapid speech was cut off when Isaac pulled Angus closer to him, lightly kissing the hunter.

It had caught Angus by surprise, so it took a few moments for Angus to start functioning and kiss back. It was slow and light, they were so cautious to go any further. It wasn't until Isaac put his hand on the back of Angus's neck and pushed him closer that the kiss became something else entirely. That feeling that people described when they kissed people, was exactly how Angus felt. It felt as if a million fireworks were going off around him, and nothing but Isaac mattered.

"King is Angus awake ye- Oh shit! Chase owes me cash!" Marvin exclaimed and he ran out of the room excitedly into the hall, calling the name of said trick shotter.

Angus was blushing, staring at the door before looking back at Isaac when he heard light giggling. Isaac was red, a bright color that Angus quite enjoyed seeing on the king.

"So... Was that a yes to a date..?" Angus asked quietly. His stomach finally seemed to get with the program, and let out a sound for food, "I know a nice restaurant if you want to go now. I'm pretty starving."

Isaac laughed and pressed a light kiss to Angus's lips, "Absolutely,"

#iplier egos #not art #jacksepticegos #markiplier #septic egos #angus the survival hunter #angus/kots #king of the squirrels #kots #wild squirrels

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jcmorrigan · 6 years

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@gavillain and @shadowx21, it turns out great minds think alike :-D

When/why did you start fanning over them?

When I first started watching The Batman, they became my two favorite rogues in the gallery. Not right away in Firefly’s case - I actually thought his intro ep was rather lackluster, and he became more endearing later (going back to “The Big Heat,” I can see why I thought that, since his personality did get more fleshed-out later, but no, he’s still good in that too). Ragdoll was love at first freaking sight. So, right off the bat, I have two villains that I like in a Rogues Gallery and that usually means a ship is coming, but I didn’t solidify it juuuuuust yet...

Then “The Big Chill” happened, and you cannot tell me that episode is not about Firefly falling hard for Mr. Freeze and then getting his heart broken when he found out Freeze just thought of him as a disposable, abusable tool. That was also the episode that really made Firefly charming to me (he stole. A SNOWGLOBE. Because IT REMINDED HIM. Of FREEZE. And then GAVE IT TO HIM. Which is not only incredibly flirty but just a power move that demonstrates his sense of humor). And I was like...no. I cannot let this go unresolved. Firefly needs a supervillain boyfriend who will actually treat him right. Somebody to replace his Boss Frost. Who’s available? And Ragdoll stood out to me because, well, favorite. But their personalities seemed quite complementary - they’re both fun-loving and quippy, with massive egos and a penchant for thievery. AT THIS POINT, I WAS ONLY INTO SEASON 2.

I actually got it spoiled for me that “Team Penguin” was going to feature them both WORKING TOGETHER. It was my fault. I was reading stuff I shouldn’t on Wikipedia pages. But I FLIPPED. And so then when that episode came around, I had my shipping goggles on for those two. And while they didn’t have any serious one-on-one time or anything, I feel like I got it definitely proven that their personalities play off each other SO well. They pass the ball back and forth when the opportunity comes up to make fun of Killer Moth. Firefly looks INCREDIBLY entertained by Ragdoll stealing Penguin’s hat. On separate occasions, they each try to rename the team - and no one else thinks to. At the VERY least, if you don’t ship it, you HAVE to admit they’re on really good terms in that ep and probably friends.

Then “White Heat” happened and I...um...suffered some minor setbacks but it’s okay, I figured it out

I ended up storing up so many ideas for what their relationship would be like together that I started writing a fanfic just for them and the friendship I imagined they’d have with Harley Quinn - “Arsonist, Contortionist, Psychologist” (on ff.net and AO3 under the name JCMorrigan, hint hint, if you want reading material). That fic was originally supposed to be Ragdoll one-sided pining over Firefly and not actually getting to be with him (because “White Heat”), but then, gooooossssshhhhh, I put them in the same room over and over and their interactions were SO flirty that I was like...um...no, they’re going to get together by the end of this.

What makes you like this couple?

Basically what I already mentioned about their personalities playing well off each other. Also the fact that them being same-universe means they could have gotten up to SO much mischief behind the scenes in canon, and there’s so much room there to imagine them committing heists that just frustrate Batman to no end. And they’re like minds, being supervillains and all.

Is there anything you don’t like about this couple?

Not really?

What’s your favorite outfit on them?

Oof, this is tough. Because on one hand, both of their costumes for in-the-field villainy are just so inspired and dynamic

On the other hand, there’s just something so fun about seeing them in civilian clothes, too. Which doesn’t happen OFTEN but there is ONE BIG INSTANCE for each, and that’s Ragdoll/Peter (I assume his name is Peter in TBverse because both the comics Ragdolls are named Peter) in his freaking formal suit trying to look like he’s the head of some multimillion-dollar corporation

And Firefly/Garfield just chilling at home in this red shirt layer combo

Which we never see on him when he’s fully out of shadow, but we know what his face looks like, we can put the pieces together

So um I just showed you literally all the outfits they have, which went against the point of answering the question

It’s the birthday of one of them! How do they celebrate?

WITH A CRIME WAVE THE LIKES OF WHICH GOTHAM HAS NEVER SEEN. Whoever’s birthday it is is the person who gets to pick the heist targets. The other will more than likely swipe a few things they know the one blessed by birthday will really like (e.g. Garfield mentioned his watch was broken a few days ago and Peter just stuffs the most CLASSY watch into his pocket when no one is looking and presents it to Garfield later and he’s just...I...I didn’t know you were going to get that big of a thing for me).

How would they react in an embarrassing situation?

Ragdoll will laugh it off, no matter how sheepish he feels. He’ll get right back on his feet. Firefly will be a lot grumpier about being made a fool of and Ragdoll will have to reassure him that nobody saw/cared, or, if they did, they SHOULDN’T.

What do you think they’ll be like in the near future?

FIREFLY GETS CURED OF BEING PHOSPHORUS. I DEMAND IT. After which, he and Ragdoll just continue striking out as villains. Firefly might SAY he’ll be done with crime once he’s saved up enough, but let’s be real: he loves the rush. The two of them are villains to the end. Though being Phosphorus will have left Firefly with some...mental issues, but Ragdoll is fine with this and very patient.

What’s an ideal date for them?

HEISTS. ROBBERY. DUELING CRIMEFIGHTERS.

Who/what gets in the way of your ship?

The entire episode “White Heat.” First of all, the fact that Firefly is dating someone completely else. Which hit me like a ton of bricks because, as I said, I was doing FireDoll as of season 2, and Blaze doesn’t show up until SEASON 5. But that is easily overcome; their breakup was baaaaaaad, and Blaze, I think, needs someone who isn’t as villainously inclined. The bigger obstacle is Phosphorus himself - the fact that his physical form destroyed everything he touched and couldn’t so much as survive anywhere outside the max-security wing of Arkham, and the fact that while he was Phosphorus, Garfield tried to actively blow up the entirety of Gotham, Ragdoll included. Which I have determined wouldn’t be something Garfield would have done if he were thinking clearly - it was a combination of 1) the radiation messing with his brain and 2) his inability to interact with the world without destroying what he touched giving him a frustration that resulted in a thought pattern of “I can’t have it, so it might as well not exist” and possibly “I can’t live a functional life, so I don’t even care if I live or die.” I do like to think he was eventually cured because I want him to be happy, gosh DANG IT. But I do think he would be left with scars. Scars that would fade over time, but he would have to learn how to overcome destructive intrusive thoughts, especially when his guard was down. And then there’s the fact that Ragdoll would have to learn what Phosphorus almost did. Which would break his heart. But still...I think they could move past it. He’d understand that Garfield was going through a tough time mentally.

What is something they could do that would make your life complete?

The show is over. There’s nothing more they can do. The best I can hope for is that there’s some kind of voice actor reunion panel for The Batman at some convention (which won’t happen because apparently nobody liked The Batman) and Jeff and Jason will both put in an appearance and make some kind of reference to how well Firefly and Ragdoll got along on Team Penguin. (I would go to that hypothetical nonexistent panel my own self and ask them if those two were friends. NOT ABOUT THE SHIP; THEY WOULDN’T ACKNOWLEDGE THE SHIP AND I KNOW IT.) Beyond that, if any other fanwork for this ship ever appears, I want to know all about it.

#the batman #ragdoll #firefly #firedoll #garfield lynns #peter merkel

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docfuture · 7 years

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The Maker’s Ark - Chapter 41

[This is a chapter from my latest novel, a sequel to The Fall of Doc Future and Skybreaker’s Call. The start is here, and links to my other work here. It can be read on its own, but contains spoilers for those two books. I try to post new chapters about every two weeks, but there will sometimes be short stories and vignettes if I don’t have a new chapter ready. The next chapter is planned for the week of November 27th.]

Previous: Chapter 40

There were tasks that Flicker shouldn't rush. She had discovered when she was quite young that she could only build or repair a machine so fast, or things would start breaking. And it was a good idea to take the effort to clean up and put all her tools away afterwards. She was still working on better ways to do something similar while assimilating her high speed mind. It was slower than stuffing everything into her flesh brain as fast as she could, but it helped with a whole set of chronic problems. But she finally reached a stopping point, so she slowed down and returned her awareness to her physical surroundings. "Better?" asked Donner in the dimness of the bedroom. "What?" Flicker hadn't realized he was awake. "I'm fine, just done for now. How could you tell?" "That deep breath and sigh." "Ah. It's a relief to get all my gestalt memories transferred into my human mind in an orderly way. Learning's bio-gestalt crew helped me out with some tricks for that. They've kind of adopted me, since I don't have a bio-gestalt group of my own. They're really nice. But I'm feeling all talkative now." "It's fine. I figured you'd have a few more things to say." "Yeah. I'm sorry you got scared by the nuke. Black Swan explained why she timed things so Journeyman and I weren't on Earth. And didn't warn us. I can tell you some of it. There was a lot she didn't tell me, because that would be against the EDU rules on custom she's following, and because-- Well, anyway. If you're interested." "I am," he said. Flicker could make out his grin in the faint light from the window. "But I'd listen even if I weren't. Talking when you're ready is part of how you cope." "Fair enough. So, it's really hard to arrange a believable alibi for me. Hard for Journeyman too; he's not as fast, but doesn't have to worry about closed doors. But doing something conspicuous, all day, on a moon of Jupiter, works for both of us. And that was politically handy for Black Swan because of what happened in Russia." "Because of who died?" "Because of who didn't. You know the guy calling for calm on that vid bit all the news programs showed?" "The deputy assistant foreign minister, or whatever?" "He was the highest ranking government official who knew picking a fight with Black Swan was stupid, and apparently was the only one with a reliable phone for a couple of hours. So he's acting president now. And will probably stay that way for a while--he won't start any wars, no one really hates him, and everyone will be afraid to try to assassinate him." "Because of Black Swan?" "Partly. But partly because of me. He was their superhero liaison person, I liked him, and people know it." "Wait, you know him?" "He was the diplomat I called to calm things down whenever I upset the Russians. I talked to him after my Moon dance--I think you heard part of that. He's not particularly honest, but he hasn't personally done anything horrible, and he's funny and good at defusing things. So he's probably as good as they can do for now. I'm not sure--I'm bad at politics compared to Doc, let alone Stella and Black Swan. But do you see why a lot of paranoid people in shock might think I had something to do with him becoming president if I didn't have an alibi? Black Swan wants them to blame her, not me." "Ah. Yeah." "Another reason for the timing was so that no one could ask me to stop Black Swan disabling all those missiles. I wouldn't have done it, but it saved me having to say no, or worrying about it. A third reason was because anyone thinking of waiting until I'm off Earth to try something now has to worry about Black Swan being three moves ahead of them. So I didn't stay upset at her for long." "Reasonable. But you said Journeyman was still pissed." "He was upset about a bunch of other things, too. One is Black Swan's fault--some Russian and Eastern European magicians are suddenly unemployed and want to talk to him urgently. And other people want to talk to him about them, also urgently. And he needed to brief Stella about some weird stuff those new aliens tried to do. He needs some time. That's why I came here to decompress. Sorry about the short notice." Donner grinned again. "I had DASI set up a 'Flicker warning level' alert for my phone a while ago. Works pretty well--I wasn't surprised. And Journeyman is still kinda recovering, isn't he?" "Not physically. Lif did a good job of healing him. But he's stressed because he needs to arrange for the tricky part of making the black hole--getting the construction subspace right. So there's this book he has to master that's been giving him nightmares." "Whoa. Like a Necronomicon or something?" Flicker laughed. "No. But he's a magician, not a physicist, the book is Chandrasekhar's The Mathematical Theory of Black Holes, and he's going to have to use it like a spellbook when he's changing the spell. DASI is helping him, but it's still scary." "Everything about making a black hole is scary to me. I mean, you're going to be carrying it around, right? What if you drop it? And where are you gonna put it when you aren't using it? It's not something you can stick in the garden shed with the lawnmower." "I don't plan to use it anywhere near Earth. And if I did, and dropped it, I'd just have to catch it again at apogee on the other side of the planet. I might have to dig a hole, but going through the Earth wouldn't slow it down much at first. It would only be a big problem long term. "Storage will be a bit messier. Journeyman should be able to make a different subspace for it that I can open without destroying. Probably. I'm still practicing. But Doc pointed out that the subspace will heat up, because the hole will be radiating and the radiation won't have anywhere to go. So I might get a big blast of energy when I pull it out if I haven't used it for a while, unless Journeyman pulls off another trick." "Hoo boy. I can see why he's having nightmares. I'm just glad I can help you with yours." "About that." Flicker took a deep breath. "I don't know much about the music stuff, but when Osk talks to you about healing, listen. I'd have recovered full function in my hand a lot quicker if I had. And if she asks you to practice, practice. Because the person you're practicing for could be me." "You think you might get badly hurt fighting whatever is coming?" "I don't know. But Golden Valkyrie told me something that gets scarier every time I think about it. I could win--and still have my flesh and blood body be gone, because the energy levels just got too high. Osk and some others are helping make arrangements in case that happens. But they might need your help putting me together again. You can call my mind back." "Oof. Like after I screwed up and Skybreaker took over your body?" "The emulation, yeah. But this would be harder, because Golden Valkyrie is gone. She won't be pushing things in the background, like she has for most of my life. It would be up to you and whoever else can help." Donner was quiet for a moment. "Practice. Got it. I can do that." "Thank you." Flicker put her arms around him in the darkness and just held him for a while. ***** Doc awoke in the darkness, alone. No nightmares--but a lifetime had given him a dark appreciation of them; reality was almost always an improvement. Not so much, lately. It was possible that his old nightmares were gone for good. The last try had yielded a few garbled fragments that were possibly relevant--Europa instead of Europe, a black hole singularity instead of The Singularity--but nothing predictive. Nothing he could use to plan. And Stella was right; he'd structured his life around the direct and indirect information in them to a degree that required adjustment when they stopped. He ran his set of post-nightmare self checks. This was still data--Stella was spending the night in an EDU ship in orbit, therefore her physical presence nearby was not necessary to stop whatever mix of the old nightmare signals were still arriving. She had given up on finishing their talk after Journeyman's interruption. Morning would do. Tonight had hadn't been an ideal time for the separation test, but when was? Emergencies didn't wait their turn. And it was past time to start planning for the consequences if it became politically untenable for the Director of the EDU to stay at his headquarters. It was officially Deep Kingdoms territory--Sealord had made it his embassy--but the US government could revoke that. Not unlikely, if there was a war. Doc might have to move, too, but his options weren't the same as Stella's. He checked the clock. 1:30 AM and he was wide awake, nightmare or not. There were other preparations to make. Also overdue, since causing unnecessary stress for the Director of the EDU made what should have been a personal decision--not. He had data--important data--that he was perhaps not giving the weight he should. Because... Well that was the question, wasn't it? He was just as good at rationalizing as he was at rational thinking, and over-optimization could be a deadly trap if he moved out of the region of relevance. No time like the present. "DASI?" "Yes, Doc?" "Any pending alerts?" "No." "Estimate a bound on the chance Flicker will do something dramatic or transit a portal in the next two hours." "Less than 1%." "Well then. Set alert interrupt level red plus. Exception: Breakpoint. Secure instance, nightmare privacy level. Engage mindscreens." "Verified." "Emergency timeloop guard; I'm thinking of a number--give me a four digit random integer." "9291." "No match. Good. Set probability manipulation canary, timeloop canary, oracle canary." "Set." "Okay, we'll give Breakpoint a little bit to see if he gets a sudden urge to call and warn me I'm about to make an apocalyptic mistake." Doc picked up the headset from the nightstand and called up the appropriate notes from the secure section. He hadn't even looked at them in a long time. This wasn't going to be pleasant. "Any changes?" he asked. "None so far," said DASI. "All right. We're going to do a psychological bias renormalization, including nightmare context integration. Primary known change: Golden Valkyrie is no longer wearing the Skystone. Starting changed assumption: Golden Valkyrie is currently causally unlinked from Earth. No preconception whether she will return to this worldline, if it survives. Secondary changed assumptions: Her last words to Flicker and Journeyman, and any consistent bias changes you've seen since the removal of my primary block and the loss of my top-level augments." "Noted." Safe travels, Fairhair. If you did give me a parting gift, I hope I'm not about to throw it away. ***** Alep could finally verify the target as he closed, despite the distortion. His mind was sluggish from the damping needed to properly perceive this unnatural worldline, but his body was not. His weapons were ready, and he repeated the command for the others to follow--after all the rigors of their voyage, the goal was finally within their grasp. Baht was shouting something, but the quantum froth stole her meaning. <Alep!> <Gem! Where are you? You must--> <No. Consult your anchor core. Now.> <We don't have time! The target will--> <The target is not here. Consult your core.> Could the distortion be that bad? The damping made it hard to think. Alep slowed reluctantly, to send the necessary attention inward to his causality anchor core, his safety self. And found his perceptions shifting as he did. He stopped, then followed Gem back to a nearby simply-connected space, where Baht waited. He tasted their concern. <Another damned echo!> he said. <Yes,> said Baht. <Was there self-echoes, too?> <A self-echo and an entire false target line.> <At least we know we're in the right domain,> said Gem mordantly. <This domain is a maze of twisty little worldlines, all subtly different!> said Baht. <So much looping cannot be natural,> said Alep. <The inhabitants have weaponized their own worldline topology.> They were close to the target--and far. How far was hard to tell. Causality drift meant they each had to renormalize periodically, assisted by the others. The return to self was not always smooth, and Alep had waited longer than he now knew was advisable. <Harnessed it, certainly,> said Gem. <But weaponized? I sense more than that, in the patterns.> <It killed Explorer's Aspect,> said Baht. <I am certain of it. She was trying to map the hazard. She did not lose focus, she kept it too long--until drift and madness finally took her. The same could happen to us.> <We should go back,> said Gem. <This tangle maze cannot possibly propagate over a domain boundary, so it is no threat. And no parasites will escape either--they would get pulled in and eaten, just like Explorer.> <No,> said Alep. <We will follow the probe echoes. We are not alone--we can assist each other, and endure that long. When we reach the primary line of the probe eater, we will end it, and return.> <What there is of us by then,> said Baht. <We are no longer who we were. The ages here have changed us. My own anchor core tastes strange.> <But you have not lost purpose.> <No.> <Good. We go on.> ***** Doc looked up from his handcomp as Stella entered the room. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, and service bots had arranged a selection of food for her if she was hungry for brunch after her flight. Doc had already eaten. "How are the Xelians and the Grs'thnk?" he asked. "Quite well," she said, and sat down across from him. "Hiri is a proper pessimist--he's been helping with the emergency shelters for the support ships. They weren't designed for the Moon's gravity, but he knows some tricks to minimize damage from that. Cheered me up a bit. But the Grs'thnk Auditors noted the lack of experience of modern Earth nations with definitively ending wars lost by sudden governing authority death." "Well, Black Swan called attention to that problem in a way that's hard to ignore," said Doc. "I'm sure the US continuity of government people will have a few questions for me when we finally meet. DASI said everyone in their working group is taking her prep briefings very seriously, which is an encouraging sign." "Oh yes. So. Have you accepted that you are no longer on the critical path for black hole construction, if you ever were?" "I have." Doc looked down, then back up. "I did a proper psych bias recheck last night." Stella raised an eyebrow. "A full one? You look like you got at least some sleep. Although--" "I took everything apart, but I haven't put it all back together yet. I knew we'd have to go over most of it again, anyway." He gestured at his cheekbone. "The bruise is from sparring with robots very early this morning. That let me sleep afterwards." "Interesting. I'd have expected you to go to your workshop." "I took three steps and already had an idea for a contra-anthropic timeloop-powered deadzone bomb that would be lethal to anything that lives in more than four dimensions from two universes away. And another one for a hunting portal Journeyman could open for me that would require a black hole to permanently seal to preserve loop consistency with Golden Valkyrie's predictions." "That seems excessive." "I doubt I'd actually be able to build it. But even trying would be a very bad idea. Self-destructive anger was the good reason for my old cognitive safety block. Much wiser to go beat up robots for a while instead." Doc looked down again. "I think I've done pretty well working with you professionally. Personally... 'I'm sorry' isn't close to enough. The entity collective that synchronized my coherent nightmares was, on average, an utter bastard. I've been finding surprising and unpleasant ways I've let that shape me." Stella smiled wryly. "Well, we have time to talk. A day of unavailability will be politically useful for me. Ashil's portal work seems to be going well, Flicker and Journeyman are resting, and DASI, Three, and Learning can handle anything else that comes up. And fixing the problems is more important than fault. I had personal issues long before we met." Doc snorted. "This whole timeline has issues." Stella looked thoughtful. "Yes. But I do find that hunting portal idea of yours interesting." "Oh?" "Just thinking about distractions, traps, parasitism, and what Golden Valkyrie did the last time she was pregnant."

Next: Chapter 42

#Maker's Ark #FallofDocFuture #FallMisc

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