#feel a bit like I’m poking a wasps nest here

[swanmaids]

I think it’s really cool and sexy if Aredhel doesn’t stick around and wait in the Halls for anybody once she’s allowed to reembody actually. Definitely not Eol but also not her brothers or her father, not various and sundry sons of Feanor, and actually, not even Maeglin.

After everything that happened in her first life, I just think that this woman deserves to start her second one by grasping at her first chance for freedom with both hands — even if it’s hard to know she’s leaving loved ones behind, even if it’s scary. And as for Maeglin — she might always love him, but she has the right to think that he made his choices, and it’s no longer her responsibility to answer for them. She already died for him once — what good does it do to stay dead?

If later on he’s seeking her forgiveness, he can come to her.

[writing-gifts]

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: welp one more chapter after this, it’s pretty much gonna do its best to wrap everything up and ig thats all i have to say other than Narancia is pretty fussy this chapter lol

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Reader is gender neutral!

-----

[Late Winter]

I only left for a few seconds…

You bring the damp cloth to the sticky layer smeared on the table. Naranica had somehow managed to not spill honey on just the table but also himself. And after you finish dealing with the table you would have to clean the clothes you changed him out of.

“Sorry…I tried to clean it.”

You glance at the bee. He had been sitting quietly in one of the dining chairs up until this moment.

“It’s okay. We just have to be careful next time.”

You’re going to ask him what he wants to do after you’re done cleaning everything to brighten his mood but you notice something off about his appearance.

“Where's your hairband?” you ask.

“Huh?”

He reaches up and touches the top of his head. When he can’t feel the cloth of the orange hairband he usually wears, he gets down from the chair and runs out of the room.

When you’re finally done cleaning the table, Narancia’s still hasn't returned so you go look for him. Luckily he’s in the first place you check--his room--but for some reason the usually somewhat clean space was in much greater disarray. All the drawers of his dresser are open and his clothes and toys lay scattered on the bed and floor.

“Narancia what are you doing?”

For some reason he’s halfway under the bed.

“I can't find my hairband!” he exclaims before crawling out.

“Well do you remember where you last saw it?”

“On my head this mornin’.”

You had seen it this morning too. You try to recall today's events but now that you think about it you don’t remember taking it off him when you were cleaning him up earlier.

“Maybe it fell off when we were outside?”

The bee perks up at your suggestion and you have to stop him from running outside. After quickly dressing yourself and him in clothing appropriate for the weather, you go out to search. The two of you spend a good amount of time looking on the snowy ground in front of the house and behind snowbugs but have no luck.

Narancia pushes around the snow in random spots with his hands, but you doubt it would be buried under any.

You rub your gloved hands together. “It’s definitely not out here. We should go back inside.”

Frustration forms on the bee’s face and he stays put so you hold out a hand to him. He stares for a moment but sighs and takes it.

The both of you head back inside and while you help the bee take off his Winter attire he comes up with the idea to look in Bruno’s room.

“Yea maybe it’s in there but--”

He’s already running out of the room before you can finish speaking.

You throw his scarf onto the bed and follow after him but unfortunately, the door to Bruno’s room is already cracked open when you catch up.

“Wait Narancia. Bruno’s sleeping,” you yell-whisper.

You try your best to enter quietly but find that your mate is already awake, confused and watching Narancia look around his room.

“What’s wrong?” Bruno says through a yawn.

“I can’t find my hairband!”

Narancia climbs onto the bed and lays on top of Bruno and the moth places his hand on top of his son's head.

“I’ll get you a new one--”

“No! I don’t wanna different one Papa…”

The bee sighs and gets back up to start looking again

You tell Bruno to stay put while you try to help Narancia in his persistent search throughout the house but eventually the two of you tire yourselves out and end up back in the bedroom empty handed.

Sitting on the bed, you try to smooth down Narancia’s hair but no matter how many times your hands run over his hair, the wild strands refuse to stay in place. It wasn't a bad thing but seeing his hair looking much messier without his hairband had made you wonder if it was even possible to keep it down without one.

“It’s no use amore. Unless you gel it back, his hair does what it wants.”

Narancia scrunches up his face at the word ‘gel’.

“Don’t worry I'm not going to gel your hair.” You tap your chin in thought and get up to rummage through your sewing supplies on Bruno’s dresser. “....How about I make you a new hairband?”

Narancia’s eyes widen. “Can it be the same as the last one?”

You pull out your pair of scissors before turning towards him with a smile. “Of course. You really like that hairband huh?”

You’re sure you’ve seen a few others in his dresser but the orange hairband was the only one you’ve ever seen him wear. You avoid asking why he likes this particular one so much though since you didn't want him to change his mind about taking your copy. You would do your best to find the original but for now this would have to suffice.

You have Narancia stay still--well as still as he can--so you take his head measurements. After that it doesn't take too long to cut out the cloth and start the actual sewing. However, the bumblebee has wandered out of the room by this point.

Bruno watches you half awake as you sew quietly next to him in bed. The both of you sit in silence together for a while and you plan on keeping it that way so he can easily fall back asleep.

Well at first anyways. Your train of thought finds itself at a topic that you can’t help bringing up.

“Have you ever thought about having more kids?” you ask.

The moth looks caught off guard by your question. It did seem as if it came from nowhere, but helping Bruno take care of Narancia and your recent thoughts of all the new arrivals that would be coming in Spring had mostly prompted it.

He considers what you asked before answering.“After adopting Narancia I wasn’t actively looking for a mate or trying to take in anymore young on my own. But now that I’ve met you I’m sure that will change....”

He trails off a bit and you stop sewing wondering what's wrong, but you find that he's staring at you very intently.

“W-Well yea. I’m sure that would be in the distant future, but that sounds nice. I wouldn't mind raising young with you…Actually I think I’d really like that.”

You wait for his reaction but feel tremors coming from the bed.

"You’re….vibrating?" you question, confused.

The slight embarrassment on his face when he tries and fails to stop has you smiling.

“That makes me really happy ____.”

You didn't think you could smile any larger. “You're so cute!"

You put the half-sewn hairband and needle to the side before hugging him which spreads the vibrations to you. You can barely believe the moth you met a year ago was the same one in your arms. The vibrating begins to lessen until it completely stops.

You completely relax against your mate and comb your fingers through the fluff near his chest. You’ll probably never get over how soft it is.

“Narancia practically fell into my arms so this time it will be nice to be properly prepared.”

You hum in agreement.

“That hive--Did you just happen upon it?”

“No, Abbacchio was actually the one who found it. He found Narancia and brought him to me.”

Your fingers stop playing with Bruno’s fur as you try to understand this new information. Why was Abbacchio even wandering around a dead hive?

It’s almost as if Bruno read your mind due to what he says next.

“I’m not sure how he managed to find Narancia but when I asked he was very guarded about it.”

Well if he didn’t know, then there was no way you would ever find out.

“How long have you known Abbacchio anyways?” you ask.

“About 7 years. I actually first met him when he was still part of a nest.”

Apparently, you were learning many new things today since you’ve always assumed Bruno had befriended Abbacchio when he was out of the hive.

It takes a while for you to realise said moth is looking at you with concern since you’ve suddenly gone quiet.

“Oh sorry...I guess I’m still not completely over you making friends with a wasp.”

You thought you were but this new information has you somewhat stupefied all over again. How did these two even manage to meet?

“I suppose all wasps aren’t built the same,” Bruno says.

“Well no bug is. But this is still a very rare--”

The creak of the bedroom door interrupts you and Narancia pokes his head in, his hair somehow even messier than before.

“Is my hairband done yet?”

------

Your shoes press into the snow. Parts of the once solid white blanket had become half melted and grimy in many areas. Your arms wrap around you in an attempt to keep warm. It was still light out but it wouldn't be long until it got dark and therefore much colder, however Naranica was adamant on coming out here.

Narancia completely ignores how dirty the snow is and runs around and plays, balling up and throwing around the cold slush.

“____ make a snow angel with me!”

If there was any time for you to be extremely partial to not laying in the snow it was now.

You look off to the side and grimace. “...Do I have to?”

The bee rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out before laying on his back to make his angel.

You’re still considering if you should join when the door opens behind you and your mate steps out.

“Hey, want to make a snow angel with Narancia?” you ask the moth.

His brows slightly furrow at the idea. “No thanks. I don't want to get my favorite sweater that you gifted me dirty.”

You almost roll your eyes but he was wearing the sweater, along with white bottoms along too. Sighing, your attention turns back to Narancia but he’s no longer lying where he was last. When you see that he’s now distracted by one of the snowbugs instead of rolling around in the snow, you let out a small sigh of relief.

The front of the house had so many of the snowy insects now that it looked like the location of a small party. All the ones you made over the Winter were still standing but they looked less sturdy and nice--some more than others.

“Mista is melting!” Narancia exclaims.

You walk over and see that Mista’s scarf is slipping off his partially melted body and try to fix it, but the moment your hand brushes against him, his head falls off. Your eyes widen and you look at Narancia whose mouth is hanging open.

He yells and you flinch. Narancia tries to lift his head but the snow breaks apart in his hands.

“Mista no--Papa help!”

Bruno comes near to observe the situation before crossing a pair of his arms. “I’m sorry Narancia but Mista can’t be saved…”

The bee’s eyes look teary and you feel terrible.

“I-I’m sorry Narancia. I didn’t mean to…”

He’s quiet for a moment before telling you it’s okay, however his frown has your heart clenching. He walks off to play a little more by himself, but doesn't seem as energetic as before.

“Don't feel bad mio amor, he gets like this every year….He might be a little more upset than usual though.”

You acknowledge Bruno’s statement half heartedly, but it doesn’t wipe away the guilt.

The three of you spend a little more time out before Narancia asks to go inside. While Bruno’s busy feeding him you head back to the moth’s room so you can get back to packing, but also give the bee some space.

You had started slowly gathering all your stuff a couple days ago. Everything you brought pretty much mixed in with all of Bruno and Narancia’s stuff and you would prefer not to spend last minute looking for any missing items.

A giant part of you was sad to go but the other was excited to see Abilene and update them on everything that happened.

You’re alone for some time but after putting Narancia to bed, Bruno joins your search.

Before you head back to your own home, you plan to check every room in this house for any of your possessions. You decide to head to the main room and immediately your eyes fall on a sweater you had careless left on the couch. You pick it up and something orange falls from under it. You bend over and pick it up, quickly realizing it’s the hairband Narancia lost. How did it even get there?

After a quick scan of the rest of the room, you go back to the bedroom and throw your sweater in one of your satchels. You then place the hairband down where you’re sure it won't get lost again.

Walking into Bruno’s closet next, you open the glowing lantern placed in there. You’re pretty sure you didn't put anything in here but it was better to be thorough. You hum to yourself as you look through the moth’s clothes--all these clothes that he rarely wore. You sigh and shake your head.

While pushing his clothes aside, you find your scarf that had been missing for so long that you convinced yourself you never brought it in the first place. You grab and drape it around your shoulders and quickly finish looking through the closet before exiting.

When you pass Bruno you toss the scarf onto him because why not.

“Found Naracia’s hairband and one of my scarves. I’m on a role today.”

Bruno watches you as you properly wrap the scarf around his neck.

“Hey it doesn't look bad on you! Maybe you should keep it.”

“____?”

You look away from the scarf and at him.

“I almost want to beg you to stay,” he says.

Your smile falls slightly not expecting that at all, but you laugh a bit to cover it up.

“Trust me you don’t need to. If I could be in two places at once that would be great...b-but I’m going to try to visit a lot though!”

Even though you try to stay positive you know it won’t be the same. No waking up next to Bruno. No getting to kiss and cuddle him so often. You wouldn't be able to play with Narancia or fail to feed him in a non messy way either. You wouldn't be able to see them whenever you wanted to and would begin to miss them the moment you were back alone in your home.

Bruno pulls you gently into a hug.

“You're pouting mio amor.”

You wrap your arms around him reprociating the hug and laugh. “Oops I didn't mean to.”

You pull back to look at the moth and reassure him so you both can get back to packing. Unfortunately, this moment seemed to disrupt your focus and you barely get anything done before managing to distract each other again. This happens multiple times until somehow the two of you end up sitting at the edge of the bed being the complete opposite of productive.

Bruno leans into you as you kiss. Your hands unsure where else to go find his chest and warmth fills you when you feel his teeth catch on your bottom lip. Your mate pulls back, but before you can complain, he presses another kiss to your lips then your jaw. His kisses start to trail down your neck--

“PAPA!”

You immediately make space between you and Bruno and almost fall off the bed.

Narancia runs into the room disheveled.

“What’s wrong Narancia?” Bruno asks.

Unlike you, the moth has already collected himself from the unexpected interruption.

Narancia climbs onto the bed but when he sees you, he seems to calm down a little. “Uh nothing…”

He then sits down between you and Bruno. “Can I help pack?”

You and Bruno agree and you’re (finally) back to what you were originally doing. However Narancia seems unusually quiet and you could no longer ignore it. You had hoped sleeping would help improve his mood but apparently it didn't.

“Um are you okay Narancia? You seem sad…”

He shrugs.

“I really am sorry about Mista.”

“It’s not that…” He shifts foot to foot avoiding your eyes before running up to you and clinging onto your leg. “I don't want you to leave! Do you have to?”

Oh.

Bruno turns towards the two of you and you smile sadly.

“I have to, but I’ll be sure to visit and you and Bruno can visit me too.”

“Everyday?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No, not everyday.”

Narancia hides his face in your leg and you're really worried he’s going to start crying. You weren’t ready to deal with that.

“We can’t go everyday but we’ll go often,” Bruno adds in an attempt to prevent any tears.

Narancia stays quiet and still for a moment before letting go of your leg. He nods in understanding but still looks sad and very tired.

“Do you want to go back to bed now?” you ask.

He nods again and reaches up towards you so you can pick him up. You tell Bruno you’ll be right back before heading to Narancia’s bedroom. You gently place and tuck him into bed before smoothing his hair back.

“I found your hairband by the way. I’ll give it to you when you wake up.”

The sadness on the bees face disappears and he smiles sleepily. “Thanks, you’re the best. Please don’t go home while I’m sleeping.”

You smile at the silly idea but make sure to settle the bee’s worries.

“I promise I won’t. Good night Narancia.”

-----

Just a few more days until you had to go back home and you had been spending all your alone time just trying to just finish up Bruno’s top. At some points you thought you wouldn't be able to before it was time to go but with some lost sleep you manage to finish all the lace for the sleeves. You were now spending your quiet morning putting everything together.

Forming the last stitch, you cut the string and place the needle down. You hold out the finished top in front of you.

The long sleeved loose-fitting top contained a V neck and was all lace except for part of the back where you sewed in a black silk cloth. Overall the lace was mostly simple but there were places where you tried to implement more floral patterns.

You look over it once more and smile content when you don't find any glaring mistakes. Now all you had to do is wait until night time rolled around.

You drink the rest of nectar from your cup sitting on the table and sigh. You were tired. Very tired. Your sleep schedule was all over the place the last couple days because of this top, and now that you were done a nap would be nice. You make sure to find a good place to hide away the top before going to Bruno’s room.

When you enter, the moth is softly snoring in bed but the moment you try to get under the covers you stir him awake. He opens an eye slightly before closing it again and reaching out towards you. You cuddle up to him and he wraps his arms around you.

“Taking a nap?” he asks.

“Yep. By the way I have a surprise for you tonight.”

A grin appears on his face. “Oh? I wonder what it is.”

You softly boop his nose. “You’ll see later, so you can go back to sleep now.”

It doesn't take long for you to drift off after that but when you finally awaken, the light from outside has been replaced by the night. You hadn’t expected to be asleep that long and feel very disoriented because of it.

Bruno looks over at you from the book he’s reading. “Sleep well?”

You sit up and rub at your eyes. “I guess so. I didn't mean to sleep that long though.” You get up and stretch. “Is Narancia awake?”

“I actually just put him back to bed. He woke up around the same time you fell asleep.”

Your eyes widen at how heavy you had fallen asleep.

“God you must be tired then….Oh wait your surprise!”

You quietly make your way to the main room and grab the satchel that you had hid behind one of the pillows on the couch. After pulling out the top, you can’t stop yourself from looking over it again, but you nod to yourself to discard any doubts.

Bruno’s sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you when you return.

“Okay take your sweater off,” you say, almost demand.

His brows raise and you almost laugh.

“It’s not like that I made something for you.”

You hold out the top to show him. “I'm not sure you remember us talking about me making a top for you but you probably saw peeks of it whenever you managed to sneak up on me...Anyways I finally finished it!”

The moth gets up to get a better look at the top.

“____ it must have taken so long to make this. It looks really well done.”

Bruno takes off his sweater and you hand the top to him. When it’s finally on, you almost die. It looks good on him, really good.

The moth looks at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes...wait put on some bottoms too.”

Your eyes follow his every movement as he slips on a pair of black bottoms.

“Amore, you look like you're going to pass out…”

“Probably. You look so good! I was worried all your fluff would get in the way but it actually looks nice with it.” You nod to yourself. “Yep, I’m definitely showing my mentor this!”

“Mentor?”

“Well kinda. This spider helped me learn how to do lace so I could make this outfit for you.”

He tilts his head as if he misheard. “Did you just say spider?”

“He’s completely harmless I swear! I thought he would be dangerous and was nervous to approach him but turns out the rumors were true.”

“Rumors? ….Well if you say he’s safe then I won’t worry. Or at least I’ll try not too.”

Bruno however still looks skeptical.

“Don’t worry, I'm being safe and if he wanted to eat me he definitely had multiple chances to do it.”

The moth’s brows furrow from your statement but you continue on. “You'll go with me to model the outfit right?”

“Of course.”

“Make sure you wear bottoms too!”

He grins. “I will.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you for this gift. You're very talented and I’m glad to show that off.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you’re wordless for a tick but manage to nod. “It’s no problem. I love making stuff for you...”

After gifting Bruno’s top, the days seem to pass quickly. Other than stitching patterns into the hairband you made for Narancia you’re mainly packing and cleaning. And during this time, the sun starts to make more frequent appearances and the weather slowly gets warmer. It’s not long before you don’t have to put on multiple layers before going outside anymore.

While the three of you are outside trying to clean up the leftover items from the melted pile of snow that were once your lovely snowbugs, you notice the start of a few new leaves growing on the mostly bare branches of the tree.

It was still a bit cold but maybe just maybe if you tried you could take flight. You flap your wings a few times to wake them up from the long period of non use. You then try to get off the ground but you’re only left exhausted from your attempt.

Bruno comes up behind looking at you expectantly. You sigh and move your wings down so he can so he can properly wrap his arms around you. He then starts rapidly vibrating and of course Narancia latches onto your leg and begins giggling when the vibrating spreads to him. You laugh along but are momentarily surprised when you feel vibrations coming from the bee too. It’s nowhere near the level of Bruno’s but it was better than anything you could do.

After you're warm enough Bruno and Narancia let go and with a few flaps of your wings you’re back in the air. You almost cheer in excitement and immediately make a round about the house before flying up towards the branches of the tree.

“Finally!”

You always took flying for granted until it was taken away from you for a whole season. You take a moment to enjoy the sun's beams through the parts in the branches before lowering back down to where Bruno and Narancia stand. However you're not ready to stop flying just yet and stay off your feet.

Narancia, who has been watching excitedly, reaches up towards you when you get close. “I wanna fly too!”

You look down at him, amused, grab his arms and lift him up before spinning him around. His squeals and giggles fill the air.

A small smile sits on Bruno’s face, content with just watching you two.

You play around with Narancia a bit more in the air before putting him down.

“Your wings are so cool! I can't wait to have wings too!”

You hadn't gotten yours until you were well into your teens and went through your pupa stage, but perhaps bees grew theirs at a different time.

“One day you will but I don't mind carrying you until then! I’ll even take you to visit flowers with me.”

Narancia smiles, “Yes! Can we go now?”

Bruno jumps in before you actually answer knowing that you would most likely say anything other than no. “Another day Narancia. We came out here to clean up.”

He pouts at Bruno but before he can start whining the moth gives him a look that clearly says ‘don't start’.

The bee crosses his arms and huffs. “Fine!”

You struggle to hold back your laughter when Bruno shakes his head.

[lokidiabolus]

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

[rynhaswritersblock]

quaranteens (hc) | p.p.

summary: how you and petey boi spend your quarantine <3

i'm not even writing a warning for this one at this point y'all now how i write HAHA

+ + +

- covid-19

- coronavirus

- lil shitbag asshole virus

- Y'ALL KNOW THE DEAL

- it's QUARANTIME WITH Y/N AND PETER

- let's get it !

being quarantined with peter parker at avengers headquarters

- lots of animal crossing

- like lots

- you and peter visit each other's islands and it's SO FUNNY

- you keep BONKING each other on the head with your nets

- you shake a tree and a wasps nest falls out

- naturally you yell "SHIT" and steve yells "LANGUAGE"

- so you start fucking SPRINTING (in the game lmao) TO RUN AWAY FROM THE WASPS

- AND POOR PETER GETS STUCK IN THE MIDDLE OF IT

- AND THE WASPS START FOLLOWING HIM

- AND HE GETS BIT

- you start fucking WHEEZING

- you cannot breathe

- peter just sets the switch down and throws his head back, letting out an annoyed groan/yell

- "bitch ass motherfucker" he whispers as he picks the switch back up

- let's not forget to mention the fact that

- the entire time you and peter are playing

- the two of you are like intertwined

- most of the time your head is in his lap or vice versa

- like y'all get into the WEIRDEST POSITIONS on the couch

- sometimes steve or tony or nat or any of them really will walk by and be like "wtf... kinda cute doe"

- but it's so comfy!!!!!!

- and when y'all play at night it's of course in your rooms

- usually it'll start with the two of you separated

- and then one of you is usually like "why the fuck are we apart right now" and goes into the other's room

- then y'all will get all close to each other and play and there'll just be occasional giggling and tiny conversations and cussing here and there

- peter just starts to HARASS one of ur villagers

- you get a little upset but it's AL so you're like... lol not my problem

- one day peter shows you this tiktok where some couple was playing together and it was like "how me and my bf are spending quarantine apart"

- AND THEIR CHARACTERS ARE LIKE... FUCKING

- BUT ANIMAL CROSSING STYLE

- ANIMAL CROSSING: NEW HORIZONS. RATED E FOR EVERYONE!!!!!!!!

- but you and peter find it SO FUNNY

- SO NATURALLY

- you know what's coming

- YOU AND PETER COPY THEM

- irl the two of you are DYING in his bed

- like rolling all over the place because you're laughing so hard

- peter uses a popper as... you know... and you YELL CAUSE YOU LAUGHED SO HARD

- also it's 4 in the fucking morning

- MEANWHILE

- on the OTHER SIDE OF THE HALL

- sam is FED UP

- !!

- he's like what in the everloving HELL are they DOING!!!

- so

- the man enters the premises like

ಠಿ_ಠ

"what the hell are you two-"

"look!"

- you can barely get that word out because of your laughter

- but you hold up the switch

- sam watches and realizes RIGHT AS PETER USES ANOTHER POPPER

- HE SEES THAT YOU'RE LIKE LAYING DOWN ON THE BED AND HE'S STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU AT YOUR FEET

- the LOOK on his face

- he fucking smiles and buries his face in his hands, shaking his head

- when he finally composes himself his eyes are fucking

watering

"i might just have to get that game.."

- okay that's it for the animal crossing section of this imagine lol i'm obsessed with this game AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE IT

- I HAVE WATCHED FAR TOO MANY VIDEOS

- OKAY MOVING ON!!!!!!!!!!

- the AMOUNT of TV the two of you watch

- the two of you alternate shows you pick (so like peter chooses then you then peter etc etc)

- peter chooses b99 (bae)

- y'all finish that shit in a WEEK

- then you recommend euphoria

- he's like uh okay

- cause he knows how inappropriate that show is lol

- so every time there's a dick on the screen he covers your eyes

- and every time there's b00bies on the screen you cover his

- and some point he's like

"y/n you do realize that i've seen boobs before"

- you're like

- i mean yeah but i refuse to think about that because you're supposed to be innocent and pure and a puppy dsfjkdfnkj

- so you retort

"and you do realize that i've seen a dick before?"

- peter is the more jealous baby

- he pauses the show and shifts his body towards you

"wait, where?"

- you cringe

"some kid i'd just met sent me a dick pic.."

- peter's like okay convo over

- the two of you keep watching but now it's more uncomfortable

- at the end of the episode you were watching (imma say episode two lol)

- you bust out laughing

"you know the kid's dick was like... small, right? like i didn't enjoy receiving that picture? it was unsolicited, peter"

- he laughs lightly

"yeah, okay"

- you poke his cheek

"someone's jealous"

- he gasps

"i am NOT jealous!"

"you just don't like the fact that i've seen a dick"

"i guess, yeah"

"peter, i'm going to eventually"

- the poor kid is like we need to stop talking about penises right the fuck now

- SO YOU TWO KEEP WATCHING

- im so sorry for writing that part in haha it just came to mind and it's CONTENT you know and i really feel like it's a realistic convo to have in that situation

- the last episode makes you cry and you don't even realize you're crying until peter holds you closer and wipes the tear off your cheek

- bae

- let's just say the two of you finished euphoria in a day

- okay also

- DANCE PARTIES!!

- the amount of dance parties the two of you had... insurmountable

- like y'all would be training together and a bop would come on and you'd stop punching just to jump around and make complete fools of yourselves

- the two of you had to have a dance party after finishing euphoria because that shit put you in a FUNK

- but yeah

- dance!!!!!!!!!!!

- okay BAKING!!!!!

- y'all made so much food

- cookies

- cake

- pretzels

- brownies

- like

- never going hungry

- half the time the kitchen is a whole MESS but it's okay cause when you do clean it up you and peter throw bubbles at each other and it's great

- steve swears everyone is going to get so out of shape

- so he comes up with a system

- everyone gets snack time together and then thirty minutes later everyone goes and trains to make up for the extra calories

- and lemme just say

- the training sessions go HARD

- everyone is fucking sugar high it's the most chaotic thing ever

- music blaring

- sam and bucky are wrestling

- tony and steve are arguing in the corner (award for most calories burnt)

- nat and wanda are fighting bruce and pietro and nearly kill each other

- meanwhile you and petey boi are seeing who can do the most complicated gymnastics set

- as soon as the boy does a layout you're like okay BYE

- so yeah

- baking!!!!!!

- time for even more fluff

- cuddling

- oh

- my

- god

- you and peter LITERALLY NEVER LEAVE EACH OTHER

- the two of your are in physical contact 99% OF THE TIME

- and that's mainly peter's fault because he lowkey clingy but YOU LOVE IT

- the two of you build a fort in the commons and have movie marathons along with your tv marathons

- occasionally one or more of the team will come chill with y'all

- there's an overall "no judgment zone" that has been declared at headquarters

- aka mind ya own fucking business

- unless someone is literally in a deep state of depression then something needs to be done

- but like

- literally everyone notices how often the two of you are just intertwined with each other

- it's 🅱razy

- also y'all order tons of pizza

- like tons

- thankfully u and peter are like ayo fast metabolism check! (smh i wish lol once i quit soccer it really hit me OOPS)

- OH AND SCHOOL

- y'all are switched to online school

- you and peter-man get really competitive with it to see who can finish all their work the fastest

- thing is the two of you literally have pretty much identical schedules so you end up going at the same pace to work together

- maybe you help each other on quizzes and tests

- no one will ever know

- and overall you two are lowkey thriving in that department because you end up finishing your work for the week in like two or three days and have the rest of the time to just VIBE

- a/n y'all i seriously recommend actually doing that like i get a SUPER big workload at the beginning of the week and as soon as i can i just ZOOOOOM and try to get it all knocked out and it's honestly really helpful

- obviously this can be really difficult for people who aren't self motivated and maybe depressed but i would just try!! if you can!! okay note over BACK TO THE SHITS N GIGGLES

- so yeah

- i don't really have anything else to say but

- overall being quarantined with peter and the team is really nice and the vibes are THERE

- fuck i got another idea

- okay

- it's the middle of the night and you and peter are watching some movie that netflix autoplayed

- the two of you get a notification and look at your phones at the same time

UPDATE: Midtown School of Science and Technology has now been shut down for the rest of the 2019-2020 school year. Online school will continue.

- the two of you visibly shrink

- deadass

- like you just slump over and toss your phone

- you curl up into the boy and a tear rolls down your cheek cause it finally hits you

- this shit is real..

- you sniffle and peter immediately turns to you and wipes your cheek

"hey, it's okay. i'm here."

"i don't know, i just... miss everyone, i guess."

- he nods

- and then he kisses you

- oh so softly

- i'm here

- ...

- okay MOMENT OVER I CAN'T TAKE HOW SERIOUS THAT WAS

- BASICALLY AFTER THAT YOU TWO DON'T REALLY DECLARE ANYTHING BUT YOU DO SPEND A LOT OF QUARANTINE MAKING OUT.... OOPS

+ + +

thank u for reading loves

MWAH

[imagine-loki]

Stubborn Independence

TITLE: Stubborn Independence 

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 2/10

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine Loki struggling to adjust to someone who is independent and insists on paying for themselves all the time, even if it is a struggle sometimes. They need to do everything on their own. They never ask for help and refuse help. Just imagine Loki really wanting to spoil this person. Imagine how creative he would get to make life easier on this person who has captivated him.

+

Imagine being a talented singer at your local club. Loki comes in one night with Thor and the others (he’d rather be anywhere else but who turns down free drinks?) and gets ensnared in the voice of the beautiful singer on stage. Suddenly, his interest (and arousal) are more than piqued.

+

Imagine getting into a petty fight with Loki, so in retaliation, he puts everything on the top shelf where you can’t reach? 

AUTHOR’S NOTES: College AU. Loki is determined to take over Odin’s company. He works hard and has a strict schedule for success. However, with the interference of Thor and the other four, Loki’s plans are often interrupted so they can play matchmaker.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

A loud booming call for Loki made his stomach upset. The rapping of knocks and another call for Loki to join him made Loki growl.

“Brother! Come out and socialize!”

There were other voices in the common area as the main door shut loudly.

“We are all in our sleepwear so come out!” Thor was silent for a moment and Loki could hear voices of all his brother’s friends talking and laughing. Thor yelled through the door again, “I will get you out of there.”

Loki set his book down with care accompanied by a sigh. Loki checked his appearance and made adjustments. When he opened the door Thor’s cheerful face received a glare. Thor gripped Loki’s shoulder and pulled him towards the living room. More people were there than Loki had heard and noticed all the new faces. 

A short but plump body caught his eye. Then the brown hair that was still able to catch some of the fading sun set that shone through the windows. Of course, the one person who he bumped into caught his attention. As if she felt his gaze, her eyes turned to him with a glance then back to Sif. The woman did a double take and stared at him with her mouth parted.

“No way.”

Loki saw the words form on her lips and he swore he could hear them.

Thor whispered, “do you know her?”

Loki turned to face Thor in an attempt to escape, “We bumped into each other earlier.”

Thor laughed lightly to himself, “you are the one to break her phone.” Thor spoke as he rolled forward on his feet, “Trust me. Drop the entire situation. She doesn’t take anyone’s help.”

The flicker of Thor’s eyes made Loki’s heart drop. Loki hissed, “I know that look. Stop it.”

Thor waved Fandral over and he quickly went to them once Thor winked and waved to Loki’s entire body.

Fandral asked with a grin, “Which one tickled his fancy?”

Thor purposely clapped Loki’s shoulder, talked slightly above a whisper as he stood beside him. “Sirena.”

Loki understood the purpose in the movement because Fandral’s eyes were able to follow Thor and easily go to Sirena’s form behind them. Fandral’s face lightened with a huge smile. “The bigger figures are nice to hold. I must say they are very soft.”

“What?- no. It’s not like that. I bumped into her and I offered to replace her phone.”

Fandral’s eyes flickered a bit to the other side of Loki with a huge smile, “oh dear boy.” His head rose and hand patted Loki’s arm, “move on.”

Loki hissed lowly, “It is not like that!”

Thor nudged Loki, “It could be.”

Loki glared at Thor, who’s head tilted towards Sirena that was passing by.

Fandral gently lead Sirena towards Loki.

Sirena’s eyes met Loki and time stilled. All the organs in his body stilled for a horrifying moment and his body worked hard to make his mind function. It was rushing with heat that made his hands sweat. Loki played with his hands by pure habit of nerves. A learned behavior to attempt to rid the sweat off his hands.

“Sirena! This is my little brother, Loki! I hear you BUMPED into each other.”

Fandral smiled brightly, “Loki is a great guy. Very intelligent. He actually got the one scholarship…” Fandral waved to Loki to pull information.

Loki could not believe this was happening. This was not going to go well at all. “The honors scholarship.” Loki cursed the involuntary nervous swallow after. 

Sirena’s face turned towards Fandral’s who switched from an unbelievable expression to the charming one with a bright smile to Sirena again. “Yes the Honors scholarship. He has two majors, business and something with computers.”

Loki corrected Fandral, “Business Management and Computer Science.”

Sirena’s eyes went to Loki’s and a smile threatened to fully form on those lips.

Thor clapped Loki’s back with a huge smile, “always learning a billion things a day.”

Sirena smiled with direct eye contact, “soon you will know all of the world’s secrets then?”

With a glance at the apparent wingmen, Loki tentatively smiled, “there are still over 6,000 languages I need to learn. But sure.”

Those beautiful eyes widened and a huge smile overtook her face, “Perhaps you could teach me a few. I would love to learn a few songs in a different languages.”

With an attempt to keep the conversation moving, “Casual listener or musician?”

“Musician. -well. Kinda.?” The one side of her face crinkled dramatically in a thoughtful expression. “I am in the Musical Therapist major.” Her eyes stayed focused elsewhere.

Loki’s butterflies fluttered in his chest, “Than a musician. I would think you play for others?”

Her smile hesitantly returned with her eyes back on Loki, “it is mostly just little bars and hopefully soon practice in group therapy sessions. Everyone participates to a certain degree in the sessions.”

Thor spoke up and gestured to Sirena, “Mother said there were going to be music therapy groups this semester at the medical building.”

Loki watched as Sirena’s head tilted to the side slightly. “Who is your mother again?”

Thor smiled, “Frigga Odinson.”

“Ooohh. The chairperson for the medical majors. She is the nicest person I have ever met in my life. Also most patient and best at time management- she is my academic advisor too.”

Fandral teased with a small nudge, “don’t you have like, a billion jobs?”

Sirena returned the nudge a little harsher, “some people learn a billion things in different ways.” Her hair got a little out of place but she moved it with no care.

Fandral winked, “Well then are you still able to model?”

Sirena groaned, “you didn’t.”

Fandral smiled brightly.

Sirena pushed him away, “You ass! I’m going to quit.”

Fandral teased, “That art class would be dull and boring without you as a subject.”

Loki froze again.

There was no way he was going to be able to draw her. A quick glance down her body made the nerves leak out his hands. She had full breasts that gave ample cleavage from beneath the the long sleeved v-neck. Her waist distinguished with a slight inward curve and a small protruding belly. Her hips were wide and thighs that definitely looked soft… Loki’s eyes took interest in the drinks on the counter.

Fandral’s voice pulled Loki from his mind. “You agree Loki?”

Loki looked into the little circle of conversation, “what?”

Fandral smiled, “did you really think an art class would not have real models?”

Sirena crossed her arms, “Don’t get so excited Fandral. The least you will ever see me in is professional, plain bra and underwear. Besides, sometimes I get draped with some sort of cloth or clothing.”

“Such a pity.” Fandral laughed loudly at the rough shove. “I deserved that.” Fandral kept the step away to let Sif in. “I really think you have the anger of a wasp nest if you are poked wrong.”

In a quick movement Sif stepped back and Sirena whacked Fandral. 

Fandral yelped and flinched at the slap on his arm, “women slaps sting so much worse.”

Sirena smiled cheerfully, “just a small wasp sting.”

Fandral stepped further away and Sif stepped in again. There was an announcement that a movie was going to start soon. Sirena, Volstagg, as well as a few others left to make more popcorn in the kitchen.

Thor hugged Loki, “that was great brother!”

Fandral shrugged, “well. It was a little rough, but through some coaching from yours truly. Loki will have a date soon enough.”

Loki jumped in to halt the conversation, “no..”

Fandral continued as if Loki said nothing, “Sirena is somewhat a rare breed of women. She refuses all and any help. Even gifts. We know you are not exactly on a good foot right now with the whole, "I can get you any phone” thing. So Loki my friend she is not what you are used too.“

Loki hissed, "What’s that supposed to mean? That I am not her type?”

The wingmen and Sif exchanged looks.

Sif spoke for everyone, “yes.”

Thor seemed to feel Loki’s hidden hopes deflate, “Loki. You are completely different than who you were when we were younger. Your gifts now are… just items to appease. A woman like Sirena craves sincerity, and sentimental moments to remember.”

Sif spoke up again. “She would rather have a photobook of memories than an item to dust off repeatedly. Here look…” Sif sorted through her phone, “these are of last summer. We went to a few caves. She literally jumped off a cliff.”

Then there were all the pictures of caves. Everyone holding various critters native to caves. Water and land pictures all throughout the day. Loki figured at least 50 pictures had the whole group in the images. Cliff jumping into water below. The huge amusement at people laying on the beach that were in the previous pictures cliff jumping.

Loki felt the life and fun pouring out of those pictures and made him yearn for an exciting experience. Loki’s phone went off and it was time for him to go to bed.

Fandral urged Loki, “Stay up. Common. Loki. School has not started yet. Just drink some caffeine.”

Loki glanced at his phone. He already lost all of his reading time and usually Loki would be yawning but he did not feel even slightly tired. He canceled the alarm but doubled up on a wake up alarm. 

The movie was interesting and a moderately nice change. There was scenery Loki did not need to imagine like he had to with a book. Everyone discussed parts of the movie to the degrees of funny commentary or serious discussion.

When the movie was over, some people have already left for bed, but Loki’s body was alert with Sirena around.

She was so overly affectionate. She seemed to find a way to touch everyone. From shoves and highfives to rubbing arms and hugs.

She hugged him goodbye.

Her body was smaller than his in height but curse Fandral for stating the truth that fuller bodies were soft. She seemed to squish onto him in a wonderful way. Her hug made his heart flutter then fly to his throat when she parted slightly to crane her neck to show a smile.

“You give really nice hugs,” she muttered as she hugged him tighter.

Loki fell asleep easily that night.

He woke to a thump of his book falling on the floor, his alarm and a jolt from the dread of knowing he was late. He was exhausted from not being on schedule and cursed the morning for not getting proper rest. 

Loki went through his things to do for the day. The plan was to get back to his dorm and sleep without enjoying a little reading time. 

[snarky-badger]

Venom Movie Prompt: Reader is a Life Foundation scientist part-time that had been taking care of the Venom Symbiote and talked to it to pass the time and to monitor it's behavior. Unaware of what Carlton Drake had really been using them for she hears about a suspected break-in at work. Carlton is furious and wants his Symbiote back, starts to realize the secrets and is not sure if she wishes to stay there. She then gets a visitor that takes care of her like she did for them. -threshprince

Oh my, this turned out longer than I planned. I am incapable of writing short things, apparently. Haha.

I hope this is good enough  @threshprince It kinda got away from me at the end and turned into a bit of fluff, haha.

It had been your dream job.

You’d never thought that a paper you’d submitted to your University professor would have gotten you a part time job, never mind one at the Life Foundation itself!

But by some chance, some shining star, you’d gotten an interview with Carlton Drake himself. You’d been nervous, sure, but not so nervous that you’d made a fool of yourself, not if the part-time job you’d landed in his genetics department was any clue.

Learning that there was bonafide proof of alien life had rocked your world. Learning that you’d be one of the few allowed near such life while running genetics tests on it? Mind-blowing.

The first time you’d seen the alien ‘symbiote’ in it’s glass canister, you’d been surprised. You’d honestly been expecting something more out of the movie genre that you’d been low-key obsessed with during your teenage years. Alien goo, that wasn’t something that you had been prepared for. Well… was the Blob alien? You couldn’t remember.

Either way, it was weird.

Still, as you and your fellow geneticists studied it, you quickly came to a realization that it had some sentience. It definitely flinched away from the probes that were used to take some of it’s physical makeup, banged against the canister in an attempt to get loose, and the high pitched ‘scream’ that left it when one of the scientists quelled it’s escape attempts with the electric shocks had almost made you cry.

It raised some serious problems with you. You’d even mentioned it to the other scientists, but they had waved you off, laughing at you. You were too young, apparently, seeing things that weren’t there.

Your moral compass was starting to go off kilter.

You were unable to really do anything - you needed the job. You had so much debt to pay off from putting yourself through school, and the Life Foundation payed handsomely.

What you could do, however, you did.

A familiar screech reached your ears one day, and you looked up from your computer, scowling at ‘Adam’ a fellow geneticist with a mean streak a continent wide. He loved nothing more than to shock that poor alien for the slightest reason. Another thing that made you think the symbiote was sentient - it tended to hiss at Adam and press itself as far away from the man as possible whenever the Adam went near it.

“Adam, what the hell are you doing?” It was a dangerous thing, to stick your neck out with Adam around. He was a bully, in every sense of the word. He was constantly complaining to Carlton Drake that you were on the team, trying to get you fired.

But the screaming, it sent shivers down your spine. You were certain Adam used to torture small animals when he was a kid.

When Adam didn’t answer, you snatched your pepper spray out of your purse and rose off your chair, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you stomped over to him. “Goddamn it, Adam, stop torturing the poor thing!”

The heavyset man eyed you darkly, and you locked your knees to keep from running at the hate in his eyes. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not like it actually hurts it.”

“It’s screaming.”

“Hah. Sounds like singing to me.”

Oh good lord he was a sick fuck. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

That hit a nerve, because he rose his thumb from the security panel that controlled the instruments used to both subdue and take samples from the alien, then turned towards you, brows drawn inward in a glower.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Well shit, you’d poked the wasps nest. “It means that I think you’re torturing the poor thing because it’s helping you get your rocks off. Probably the only way too, can’t imagine any woman with a brain going near a bully like you.”

He snarled something and took one menacing step forward, pausing when you stuck your can of pepper spray in his face. His eyes literally crossed as he stared at it.

“Touch me,” you growled. “And I will empty this entire thing into your eyes. If there’s any justice in the world, then it’ll probably fucking blind you.“

He breathed heavily, like a bull ready to charge, but took a step back. You kept the spray raised, stance ready in case he lunged or reached for you, but Adam merely glared at you a moment longer before snarling a curse.

“You just lost your fucking job, bitch. Threatening a senior employee and bringing a weapon past Security, you’ll be lucky if you’re not arrested.”

“Just fuck off before I figure out how to rip the shock mechanism out of this panel so I can electrocute you,” you snapped. Adam glared at you a moment longer, then turned and stomped back to his separate office space. “Jesus, how the hell did he pass the psychiatric screening.”

Sighing, shoulders slumped, you turned towards the canister, and the symbiote held within. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, daring to reach out to press two fingers to the glass. “I can’t– Adam’s right, I’m going to get fired. I needed this job, but if you’re as smart as I think you are, then it’s worth it. I’m sorry he keeps hurting you, and I’m sorry that you’re trapped here.”

There was a moment of silence, where the symbiote undulated in it’s prison - because it was a prison, you’d realized. It was a prisoner, and you and the others had been experimenting and cutting off pieces of it. Jesus.

You were about to pull away when it moved, pressing up against where you were touching the glass. You blinked, staring at it for a moment. It was the first, non-aggressive move it had made to date. Usually it thrashed and shrieked and tried to attack anyone that came near it.

Then again, if situations were reversed, wouldn’t you?

Figuring that it was your last day at the Lab, you decided that finishing your current DNA breakdown of the latest sample taken from the symbiote would be a waste of time.

So you pulled up a chair and kept your hand pressed against the canister, merely talking to the symbiote for the rest of your shift. Babbled about your classes as the University, and why you’d taken the job at the Life Foundation, then tangented your way to talking about little things. Your hobbies, dreams, your family. Told it about the City in case it ever got free, about the dangers and the beautiful things and the people that weren’t complete assholes.

When it was time for you to leave, you gave the symbiote one last look, then used your body to block your movements as you lifted a maintenance panel on the computer panel that controlled the shocking and dissecting instruments, feeling for the needed wires and yanking them out.

“There. No more shocks. Not until they realize it’s broken, anyway.” A sigh left you as you stared down at the imprisoned symbiote, fully convinced that it was staring back. “I’m sorry I can’t do more. I really am–”

Noise from the direction of the elevators made you frown, and you huffed when you heard Adam’s voice raving at someone, someone who turned out to be a security guard. “Looks like I’m going to be escorted out of the building too. God how I loathe that man.”

Shoulders slumping, you went to leave your lab coat on your chair, then grabbed your purse, pausing by the symbiote again before leaving the Lab. “If you see a chance to escape, no matter how small, take it. I don’t know what Carlton Drake has in store for you, but it can’t be good. If you need help–” You rushed to whisper your address as the security guard opened the glass door to the Lab.

“Ma’am? I’ve been ordered to escort your out of the building.”

“Never been happier to be fired from a job,” you spat in Adam’s direction as you stormed past the guard, flipping Adam off as you headed down the hallway. Smirked when you heard the guard tell him to back off - poor baby had a short fuse.

The next week and a half went by as boringly as possibly. You easily fell back into the rhythm of things before the Life Foundation job. Balancing school and waitressing at a bar was old hat by now, you could do it in those sleep deprived moments called ‘unconsciousness’.

It was while bringing drinks to a group of frat boys that you saw the headline - a massive explosion at the Life Foundation. Fifteen dead, more wounded. Carlton Drake was on damage control, saying that it was an accidental electrical fire that had spread to one of the labs and ignited some samples, but you knew better.

“Good for you,” you murmured under your breath. Stared at the TV screen a little too long if the look from your boss was any indication, and you quickly went back to work. This job, you didn’t want to lose. It didn’t have the questionable morality that the other one had. That, and the tips were good.

What you weren’t expecting was to find Carlton Drake waiting for you at the end of your shift. The man - dressed in a suit that probably would have set you up for rent for a year - was flanked by two muscled guards that quickly herded you towards, and into, the alleyway next to the bar.

“Where is it?!”

You blinked and played stupid. “Where’s what?”

Drake glared. “Don’t play dumb. The symbiote it’s gone! Attached itself to some guy and killed half the staff and security before vanishing into the damned City.”

You eyed the guards by his sides before huffing. “Well how the hell should I know?“

“Because you are the only one that seemed to have a rapport with the alien. I saw the security footage of you defending it from Mr. Harrison. Honestly, if you’d simply told me that he was torturing it instead of threatening him, you’d still have a job.”

“A job where I’d be dissecting a sentient creature. Pass. Hard pass. Some of us have this thing called ‘morality’.”

”Which is why the symbiote responded to you,” he pressed. When you stayed silent, he rolled his eyes and pulled out a business card. “If it comes to you, contact me. I’ll reward you handsomely. You’ll never have to work at a dump like this again. One call, and I’ll have an entire security force at your side in five minutes and a check in your hands in ten.”

You hesitated. That much money…. But the memory of the symbiote screaming in pain made you shake your head. “No thanks.”

Drake stared at you as if he couldn’t understand the words that had come out of your mouth. Finally, he glowered and shoved the business card back into his pocket. “Stupid girl. Fine, have it your way. You’ll be watched from now on. You won’t see them, but I’ll have people following you twenty-four-seven. If…. when the symbiote comes to you, and I have a firm belief that it will, I advise you not to get in the way.”

You glared at his back as he turned away, his two goons following a step behind him as he walked back to his black Cadillac, the driver holding the door open for him. The urge to run over and score the Caddy’s paint job with your keys rose, but you didn’t fancy a bullet to the head.

For the next three days, you had the firm sensation of being watched. It made your skin crawl. As Carlton Drake had said, you never spotted your tail, but you knew it was there. Hoped beyond hope that the symbiote had the sense not to come to you, because you really didn’t want it to get caught.

You wished you hadn’t told it where you lived. But hindsight was twenty-twenty.

One night, after a double shift at the bar, you were in your apartment studying, books open on the small kitchen table as you tried to put together something coherent for paper due in a week. The coffee was brewing strong - you were on your second cup, late hour be-damned.

All the windows were covered in thick curtains - new curtains that you’d bought to hide yourself from the prying eyes you knew were there. You’d even added two new security locks to the front door, and had an aluminum baseball bat nearby in case you needed to bash any asshole trying to get in. It was all you could do on a meager student’s budget.

You knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Which was why, when you heard a knock on the door, your first instinct was to snatch up that bat and get ready to bash some heads. You sidled up to the door and rose on your tiptoes to peer through the spy-hole, blinking at the guy on the other side. Tall, muscled, blue eyes, short brown hair, wearing jeans a shirt and a black leather jacket. Who the fuck was he and why was he at your door at…. You blinked when you realized it was one in the morning. Fucksakes you had classes at eight.

You rose your voice so you’d be heard through the door. “Who is it?”

“Uh, hi? Our– My name’s Eddie Brock. I, um, look I know it’s late and this is weird, but I have a…. friend who knows you.”

“Good for you. That tells me nothing at all about why you’re at my door at one in the morning.“

There was an amused tone to his voice when he spoke next. “If I were to tell you, you probably wouldn’t open the door.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, now that all my red flags are up, this is the point where I tell you to fuck off.”

Silence stretched on for a moment, before mumbling was heard on the other side. Something that actually sounded like arguing. Oh goody. You had a crazy person on the other side of your door.

Eddie spoke up again a heartbeat later. “I’m not going away until you talk to me.”

“Then enjoy sleeping in the hallway. Also, if you’re still there in the morning, I am, presently, in possession of a bat. Which I shall happily use on you if you make me late for class.”

“You got a chain on that door?”

You scowled. “Two. And a bat.”

“Then you don’t have to let me in. I just want to say my piece and then I’ll leave. Scout’s honor.”

You waffled over that for a moment. Maybe too long, because there was a curious ‘hello?’ from the other side of the door. “I’m thinking!” you called back, pushing away from the door and pacing a little.

Crazy man outside the door, assholes keeping watch, and you had a bat. Yeah, you were going to die.

Sighing, thinking perhaps, lack of sleep had made you stupid, you slid both chains into place, then unlocked the door and opened it enough to peek out. “Talk fast.”

He blinked at you. “You’re prettier than he said you were.”

“Okay then. Closing the door now.”

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry. Please don’t go. He’s been driving me nuts for days trying to get me to come here.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And who would ‘he’ be, exactly?”

“He calls himself ‘Venom’.”

“Uh huh.”

Eddie rose a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m fucking this up. Look, I’m a reporter. I was trying to expose Carlton Drake and his Life Foundation for experimenting on homeless people and– Are you alright?”

You felt like throwing up. He’d been doing what?! God, it was so much worse than just torturing aliens. It took everything you had to keep from having a mild panic attack. “Sorry, Mr. Brock. I don’t do interviews.”

“Oh, no. I’m not here for that. I got too close to the truth and he… Look, long story short, I know about the symbiotes.”

Plural. There had been more than one. Your brain latched onto that and didn’t let go. “There was more than one?!”

He frowned. “You didn’t know?”

“No! I— Wait. Why the fuck are you here then? Who the hell is your ‘friend’ and why would…. they….” Your voice trailed off at the familiar blackness that extended from his ‘jacket’ and reached out to touch your hand. You’d thought it would feel sticky or wet, but all you felt was a coolness as the symbiote curled around your fingers. “Holy shit. Holy shit! You shouldn’t be here! You can’t be here! Drake, he’s got people watching me! You have to run–”

A darkness flit across Eddie’s eyes. “They won’t be a problem for you anymore.”

You went still. That hadn’t been Eddie’s voice. 

Well, at least your hunch that the symbiote was sentient had been proven. Take that Adam.

Eddie blinked a bit, the blue returning to his eyes as he met your stunned gaze again. Even quirked a smile at you as you watched the bit of symbiote retreat from your hand and vanish into his ‘jacket’. “We promise, we won’t hurt you.”

You felt like babbling incoherently. Instead, you slid the chains off and opened the door fully, stepping back as he entered. Kept a hold on the bat, mostly because you felt too numb to let go of it as you mechanically closed the door, locking it.

He was eyeing all the open books and scattered papers on the kitchen table when you turned to look at him, and Eddie glanced up when he felt your stunned stare. “You’re not going to pass out are you?”

“Don’t get snippy, I have a bat,” you mumbled as you staggered past him, going to sit down on the edge of the couch. “So, it– the symbiote. It is sentient.”

Eddie moved to lean on the wall opposite you, thankfully giving you the room you needed to process things. “Painfully so. Can’t get it to shut up half the time. Ow! Goddamn it!” You looked up to see him rubbing at the side of his neck, where a tiny bite mark was visible. “Quit it!”

“You bonded with it.” You and the others at the Lab had guessed that it would be possible for a human to ‘host’ the symbiote. It hadn’t been proven, merely an educated hypothesis. But you knew now that Carlton Drake hadn’t been merely ‘studying’ the symbiotes. He’d been experimenting on them, and on people.

“Yeah. Drake…. Bastard caught me while I was snooping around and used me as an experiment. He expected it to kill me, not bond with me and use me to escape.”

“Use you?”

“Wasn’t exactly planning on bonding with an alien,” Eddie drawled with a tired smirk. “It’s been…. hard. It– Venom. It’s predatory as hell. Kill first, nevermind the questions, y’know? But I can be a stubborn bastard too. And apparently symbiotes prefer willing hosts rather than ones they have to constantly fight with. So we came to an…. understanding. I honestly didn’t expect him to drag me here. Or that he even knew anyone else in the City.”

You tightened your hand on the bat at the curious tone of his voice. “I had a part time job at the Life Foundation. I didn’t know about…. most of what you told me. The human experiments, the other symbiotes…. I’m just a geneticist, fuck I’m still in University…. I’m basically a glorified lab rat. I thought it was a good job but….”

“But you figured out the symbiote was sentient.”

“Yeah. There was another scientist that liked to torment it, and I threatened him into backing off….” You rose your gaze to Eddie, who was watching you calmly. “Is it alright? It’s safe with you?”

“Kinda more like I’m safe with it.” He let you digest that for a moment before pushing off from the wall. “He wants to talk to you. Is that alright?”

You blinked. “It… it can do that?”

“With a host, yeah. Just…. don’t scream.”

“Scream? Why would I–” Your eyes widened as blackness encompassed Eddie. It cocooned him, growing bigger, easily growing to seven feet tall, massive shoulders and arms, hands tipped with wicked talons. Pale eyes opened to peer at you, a long tongue curling out from a large fang filled maw to lick at it’s lips.

Okay, yeah. You felt like screaming.

Barely managed to stay quiet, merely clinging to your bat. A bat that the creature in front of you could probably use as a toothpick after it killed you and ate your corpse.

It - Venom - seemed upset at your fear, a voice like dark, predatory, rolling thunder filling the small apartment. “SHH, LITTLE MORSEL. WE WOULD NEVER HARM YOU. DON’T BE AFRAID.”

Afraid? Oh, you were beyond afraid. “To be fair, you’re…. very different,” you grated out. “And big. Very big.”

“HEH. THAT WE ARE. EDDIE IS A GOOD HOST. IF A LITTLE ANNOYING.” Venom walked across the room, crouching in front of you and reaching out to place a massive hand against your face, cupping your cheek. “WE WOULD HAVE KILLED HIM, BUT WE REMEMBERED YOU. REMEMBERED WHAT YOU SAID, THAT NOT ALL HUMANS ARE LIKE DRAKE OR ADAM. THAT SOME ARE LIKE YOU, KIND, BRAVE.”

Your breath left you in a trembling sigh. “Not that brave. I didn’t want to leave you there. I really didn’t.”

“THEY WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU, WE KNOW.” He rumbled, brushing his thumb across your cheek before pulling away, tilting his head as he regarded you. “WE WANT TO KEEP YOU SAFE. WE TOOK CARE OF THOSE STALKING YOU.”

“Stalking– You mean Drake’s men? But, he’ll know you’ve been here!”

A chuckle left him, low, baritone, predatory. “WE KNOW HOW TO COVER OUR TRACKS, MORSEL. THEY’LL NEVER FIND THE BODIES.”

You didn’t know if that was a comfort or not. Finally decided that you didn’t much care. Drake and his assholes could rot in hell. “Thanks. I didn’t much like them shadowing me all the time.”

“WE KNOW. WE WERE IN THE SHADOWS WHEN DRAKE OFFERED YOU MONEY FOR TURNING US IN.” At your horrified and shocked expression, he rumbled again, soothingly this time. “WE KNEW YOU WOULDN’T SIDE WITH HIM. BUT WE COULDN’T MEET YOU UNTIL WE TRACKED DOWN HIS MEN. THERE WERE MANY.”

“Do I even want to know how long you’ve been tailing me?”

A hissing laugh left him. “PROBABLY NOT.”

“Alrighty then.” Your hand cramped from clutching at the bat as tightly as you were, and you winced a bit as you forced your stiff fingers to uncurl from around it, setting it aside. Venom seemed pleased that you’d set your ‘weapon’ aside, a happy sort of murring noise leaving him. “So…. why did you track me down?”

“WANT TO KEEP YOU SAFE. AND….” You blinked at the tired grumble that followed. “EDDIE SAYS THAT WE SHOULD LEAVE, NOT INTRUDE, BUT WE HAVE NO WHERE ELSE TO GO.”

Did you really want an alien crashing on your couch? A sigh left you as you gave that some thought, but, in the end, you knew you’d cave. You had told the symbiote to track you down if it needed help, and it had. Hadn’t expected it to drag someone else along with it, but that just made things more complicated.

“Alright,” you murmured, smiling a little at the happy rumble that left Venom. “You can stay. You can sleep on the couch.”

He blinked and offered up a curious hiss. “NOT WITH YOU? YOU DON’T TRUST US? WAIT– EDDIE IS COMPLAINING AGAIN. BOUNDARIES?”

A soft laugh left you. “Humans don’t usually share beds with people unless they’re in a relationship with them.”

Fangs were bared in distaste. “THIS IS MORE WEIRD, COMPLICATED, HUMAN THINGS, ISN’T IT?”

“Yup.” You sent a glance at a clock, sighing when you saw it was past two-am. No way you were going to get any work done on that paper now. Class was at eight, and you had to be up and out of the apartment by seven. Five hours sleep…. ugh. “Look, I’m tired, and it’s so late that I’m going to skip my classes tomorrow. Lemme get some sleep, and I’ll let you ask all the questions you want about us weird, complicated, humans. Deal?”

“HEH. DEAL.”

Two hours later, you woke up to the feeling of a large body slipping into bed behind you, now-familiar cool tendrils curling around you as large arms encased you in a hug.

A low rumble sounded in your ear. “COUCH WAS LONELY. AND TOO SMALL.”

Absolutely no clue about boundaries.

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Stubborn Independence

TITLE: Stubborn Independence 

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 2/10

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine Loki struggling to adjust to someone who is independent and insists on paying for themselves all the time, even if it is a struggle sometimes. They need to do everything on their own. They never ask for help and refuse help. Just imagine Loki really wanting to spoil this person. Imagine how creative he would get to make life easier on this person who has captivated him.

+

Imagine being a talented singer at your local club. Loki comes in one night with Thor and the others (he’d rather be anywhere else but who turns down free drinks?) and gets ensnared in the voice of the beautiful singer on stage. Suddenly, his interest (and arousal) are more than piqued.

+

Imagine getting into a petty fight with Loki, so in retaliation, he puts everything on the top shelf where you can’t reach? 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: College AU. Loki is determined to take over Odin's company. He works hard and has a strict schedule for success. However, with the interference of Thor and the other four, Loki's plans are often interrupted so they can play matchmaker.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

A loud booming call for Loki made his stomach upset. The rapping of knocks and another call for Loki to join him made Loki growl.

"Brother! Come out and socialize!"

There were other voices in the common area as the main door shut loudly.

"We are all in our sleepwear so come out!" Thor was silent for a moment and Loki could hear voices of all his brother's friends talking and laughing. Thor yelled through the door again, "I will get you out of there."

Loki set his book down with care accompanied by a sigh. Loki checked his appearance and made adjustments. When he opened the door Thor's cheerful face received a glare. Thor gripped Loki's shoulder and pulled him towards the living room. More people were there than Loki had heard and noticed all the new faces. 

A short but plump body caught his eye. Then the brown hair that was still able to catch some of the fading sun set that shone through the windows. Of course, the one person who he bumped into caught his attention. As if she felt his gaze, her eyes turned to him with a glance then back to Sif. The woman did a double take and stared at him with her mouth parted.

"No way."

Loki saw the words form on her lips and he swore he could hear them.

Thor whispered, "do you know her?"

Loki turned to face Thor in an attempt to escape, "We bumped into each other earlier."

Thor laughed lightly to himself, "you are the one to break her phone." Thor spoke as he rolled forward on his feet, "Trust me. Drop the entire situation. She doesn't take anyone's help."

The flicker of Thor's eyes made Loki's heart drop. Loki hissed, "I know that look. Stop it."

Thor waved Fandral over and he quickly went to them once Thor winked and waved to Loki's entire body.

Fandral asked with a grin, "Which one tickled his fancy?"

Thor purposely clapped Loki's shoulder, talked slightly above a whisper as he stood beside him. "Sirena."

Loki understood the purpose in the movement because Fandral's eyes were able to follow Thor and easily go to Sirena's form behind them. Fandral's face lightened with a huge smile. "The bigger figures are nice to hold. I must say they are very soft."

"What?- no. It's not like that. I bumped into her and I offered to replace her phone."

Fandral's eyes flickered a bit to the other side of Loki with a huge smile, "oh dear boy." His head rose and hand patted Loki's arm, "move on."

Loki hissed lowly, "It is not like that!"

Thor nudged Loki, "It could be."

Loki glared at Thor, who's head tilted towards Sirena that was passing by.

Fandral gently lead Sirena towards Loki.

Sirena's eyes met Loki and time stilled. All the organs in his body stilled for a horrifying moment and his body worked hard to make his mind function. It was rushing with heat that made his hands sweat. Loki played with his hands by pure habit of nerves. A learned behavior to attempt to rid the sweat off his hands.

"Sirena! This is my little brother, Loki! I hear you BUMPED into each other."

Fandral smiled brightly, "Loki is a great guy. Very intelligent. He actually got the one scholarship…" Fandral waved to Loki to pull information.

Loki could not believe this was happening. This was not going to go well at all. "The honors scholarship." Loki cursed the involuntary nervous swallow after. 

Sirena's face turned towards Fandral's who switched from an unbelievable expression to the charming one with a bright smile to Sirena again. "Yes the Honors scholarship. He has two majors, business and something with computers."

Loki corrected Fandral, "Business Management and Computer Science."

Sirena's eyes went to Loki's and a smile threatened to fully form on those lips.

Thor clapped Loki's back with a huge smile, "always learning a billion things a day."

Sirena smiled with direct eye contact, "soon you will know all of the world's secrets then?"

With a glance at the apparent wingmen, Loki tentatively smiled, "there are still over 6,000 languages I need to learn. But sure."

Those beautiful eyes widened and a huge smile overtook her face, "Perhaps you could teach me a few. I would love to learn a few songs in a different languages."

With an attempt to keep the conversation moving, "Casual listener or musician?"

"Musician. -well. Kinda.?" The one side of her face crinkled dramatically in a thoughtful expression. "I am in the Musical Therapist major." Her eyes stayed focused elsewhere.

Loki's butterflies fluttered in his chest, "Than a musician. I would think you play for others?"

Her smile hesitantly returned with her eyes back on Loki, "it is mostly just little bars and hopefully soon practice in group therapy sessions. Everyone participates to a certain degree in the sessions."

Thor spoke up and gestured to Sirena, "Mother said there were going to be music therapy groups this semester at the medical building."

Loki watched as Sirena's head tilted to the side slightly. "Who is your mother again?"

Thor smiled, "Frigga Odinson."

"Ooohh. The chairperson for the medical majors. She is the nicest person I have ever met in my life. Also most patient and best at time management- she is my academic advisor too."

Fandral teased with a small nudge, "don't you have like, a billion jobs?"

Sirena returned the nudge a little harsher, "some people learn a billion things in different ways." Her hair got a little out of place but she moved it with no care.

Fandral winked, "Well then are you still able to model?"

Sirena groaned, "you didn't."

Fandral smiled brightly.

Sirena pushed him away, "You ass! I'm going to quit."

Fandral teased, "That art class would be dull and boring without you as a subject."

Loki froze again.

There was no way he was going to be able to draw her. A quick glance down her body made the nerves leak out his hands. She had full breasts that gave ample cleavage from beneath the the long sleeved v-neck. Her waist distinguished with a slight inward curve and a small protruding belly. Her hips were wide and thighs that definitely looked soft… Loki's eyes took interest in the drinks on the counter.

Fandral's voice pulled Loki from his mind. "You agree Loki?"

Loki looked into the little circle of conversation, "what?"

Fandral smiled, "did you really think an art class would not have real models?"

Sirena crossed her arms, "Don't get so excited Fandral. The least you will ever see me in is professional, plain bra and underwear. Besides, sometimes I get draped with some sort of cloth or clothing."

"Such a pity." Fandral laughed loudly at the rough shove. "I deserved that." Fandral kept the step away to let Sif in. "I really think you have the anger of a wasp nest if you are poked wrong."

In a quick movement Sif stepped back and Sirena whacked Fandral. 

Fandral yelped and flinched at the slap on his arm, "women slaps sting so much worse."

Sirena smiled cheerfully, "just a small wasp sting."

Fandral stepped further away and Sif stepped in again. There was an announcement that a movie was going to start soon. Sirena, Volstagg, as well as a few others left to make more popcorn in the kitchen.

Thor hugged Loki, "that was great brother!"

Fandral shrugged, "well. It was a little rough, but through some coaching from yours truly. Loki will have a date soon enough."

Loki jumped in to halt the conversation, "no.."

Fandral continued as if Loki said nothing, "Sirena is somewhat a rare breed of women. She refuses all and any help. Even gifts. We know you are not exactly on a good foot right now with the whole, "I can get you any phone" thing. So Loki my friend she is not what you are used too."

Loki hissed, "What's that supposed to mean? That I am not her type?"

The wingmen and Sif exchanged looks.

Sif spoke for everyone, "yes."

Thor seemed to feel Loki's hidden hopes deflate, "Loki. You are completely different than who you were when we were younger. Your gifts now are… just items to appease. A woman like Sirena craves sincerity, and sentimental moments to remember."

Sif spoke up again. "She would rather have a photobook of memories than an item to dust off repeatedly. Here look..." Sif sorted through her phone, "these are of last summer. We went to a few caves. She literally jumped off a cliff."

Then there were all the pictures of caves. Everyone holding various critters native to caves. Water and land pictures all throughout the day. Loki figured at least 50 pictures had the whole group in the images. Cliff jumping into water below. The huge amusement at people laying on the beach that were in the previous pictures cliff jumping.

Loki felt the life and fun pouring out of those pictures and made him yearn for an exciting experience. Loki's phone went off and it was time for him to go to bed.

Fandral urged Loki, "Stay up. Common. Loki. School has not started yet. Just drink some caffeine."

Loki glanced at his phone. He already lost all of his reading time and usually Loki would be yawning but he did not feel even slightly tired. He canceled the alarm but doubled up on a wake up alarm. 

The movie was interesting and a moderately nice change. There was scenery Loki did not need to imagine like he had to with a book. Everyone discussed parts of the movie to the degrees of funny commentary or serious discussion.

When the movie was over, some people have already left for bed, but Loki's body was alert with Sirena around.

She was so overly affectionate. She seemed to find a way to touch everyone. From shoves and highfives to rubbing arms and hugs.

She hugged him goodbye.

Her body was smaller than his in height but curse Fandral for stating the truth that fuller bodies were soft. She seemed to squish onto him in a wonderful way. Her hug made his heart flutter then fly to his throat when she parted slightly to crane her neck to show a smile.

"You give really nice hugs," she muttered as she hugged him tighter.

Loki fell asleep easily that night.

He woke to a thump of his book falling on the floor, his alarm and a jolt from the dread of knowing he was late. He was exhausted from not being on schedule and cursed the morning for not getting proper rest. 

Loki went through his things to do for the day. The plan was to get back to his dorm and sleep without enjoying a little reading time. 

[thepetulantpen]

Class Swap and Cobalt Soul

...better late than never? Day 6 for @beauweek

  It’s no secret, to anyone who’s met Beau, that she likes to know everything there is to know about everything. 

   Beau is in the know about everything from library gossip to government corruption. She makes it her business, through hours of painful study, to know every fact available to her about the histories of the Empire and the precise workings of the arcane. 

  However, it’s a common misconception to believe that, since she spends hours of her free time buried in books about magic, Beau loves to read and study. She despises it, hates sitting still for so long and memorizing pages worth of meaningless words. 

     But studying, she’s learned, is a necessary evil because knowledge is power and Beau loves to have power. Especially the arcane sort, just imagine the things she could do with the reigns of reality in her hands.

    Unfortunately, she wasn’t born with ancient blood in her veins, doesn’t have a very good singing voice and isn’t in the market for a pact, so she’ll have to settle with the traditional, book-learned route to magic. 

  The first time she feels flames harmlessly tickling the palms of her hands, she knows it was all worth it. She knows all those hours, days, months of studying were worth it for the power she carries with her always, now flowing with her blood and sparking to life across her nerves. Magic, after less than a year, has become a familiar force to Beau, like an old friend who always has her back. 

  The power, the fire, is always at her side, making her visibly stand out from the other archivists. Beau is confident in her heavy boots, flowing robes, and charged, arcane atmosphere, her deliberate footfalls so unlike the shuffling of her timid, book-smart colleagues. The air that gathers around her feels ready to spark and ignite with any shift in her mood, compelling librarians to rush to clear her path as she moves through. 

  It’s this obvious air of power that makes Beau the first person Caleb notices during his days in the Cobalt Soul Archives. 

    Caleb walks far less confidently, closed in and protective of his space. He’s on guard always, as if he expects a knife in the back at any time, and that means keeping track of powerful people like Beauregard. He watches her, wondering if she’ll be a useful ally or a threatening enemy. 

  His demeanor is a different story in training. In the pits beneath the archive where he’s taught strike after strike, he is far less cautious. There’s a drive within him that obliterates any other sense of wariness he feels, anger or some vicious, bloodthirsty type of sadness fueling his fists. 

   And that is what makes Beau notice him, the first time she sees him in the Archive. 

    She smirks at Zeenoth, gesturing to Caleb unleashing a reckless round of blows and getting immediately shut down by Dairon.

   “Who’s the new guy?”

   Zeenoth hums, barely looking up from the book he carries. He doesn’t particularly care for Beau and cares even less for the more… physically inclined members of the Cobalt Soul. 

   “The one with the temper? Think his name’s Widogast. I heard- no, I shouldn’t say.” Zeenoth smiles that very punch-able smile of his, delighting in some information to hold over Beau’s head. 

  Beau smiles too, piercings catching the light as she all but bares her teeth at Zeenoth. “Well, I sure wish I had to restraint to keep from gossiping like you. I’m afraid that, if I don’t get my gossiping fix, I might turn to sharing someone else’s secrets.”

   Zeenoth frowns, guessing at her meaning and trying to remember what information Beau has on him. It could be anything, everyone knows that Beau knows everything, whether or not it is reasonable or plausible for her have discovered it. 

     “It’s just,” Zeenoth leans in to whisper to Beau, “I heard he has ties to Soltrice.”

    “Soltrice?” Beau’s eyebrows draw together, glancing back to the man fighting Dairon. He certainly doesn’t look like a wizard, although, she supposes she doesn’t really look like a wizard either. 

    Zeenoth catches the look on her face, trying to pick apart the newbie. “He’s not a wizard, or anything, if that’s what you’re wondering. I couldn't tell you any more than that, the rest is just rumor.” 

   Beau nods, making up her mind. She’ll just have to talk to him herself, in that case. 

  …

  It only takes a few days to get to know Caleb. As mysterious as he portrays himself to be, it is pretty easy to understand him, especially from Beau’s point of view. 

    She understands him because she sees a bit of herself in him, sees that drive for power, to be powerful enough to get what you want when you want it. 

   For Beau, power is the ability to understand how the world works and stand toe to toe with pompous arcane masters. For Caleb, it’s something deeper, darker, hidden behind layers of pain and regret. 

   For Beau, power is fire. For Caleb, it’s his fists. 

   Beau isn’t about to poke that wasp nest, but she does want to help, wants to make sure all that potential he’s got wound around his arms in dingy bandages doesn’t go to waste. She doesn't want him to be just some other monk blowing off steam in the training room and never getting better, doesn't want to see him slowly wasting away under the poison of his own resentment. 

  She knows temper and she knows how to control it; Caleb’s physical aggression is no different than Beau’s nights of quietly burning up trash, filtering out unhelpful emotions to keep just enough of a level head to function in the world they wish to conquer. 

   They train side by side most days, despite how ridiculous Beau looks sat cross-legged on the dusty fighting room floor with her spell components while Caleb fights a sand bag, occasionally spraying sand into Beau’s hair. She's keeping an eye on him, curious, and he's keeping an eye on her, suspicious. 

   Beau extinguishes the fire she’s been working on manipulating, straightening to watch Caleb work himself to exhaustion. 

     Take a break, you’re working too hard. At this rate, you’ll hurt yourself and delay training for the rest of the week.”

    Caleb looks up from his punching bag, wiping sweat from his eyes and catching his breath. He scowls at Beau, something between irritation and confusion in the hard lines of his face. 

   “Why are you helping me?”

    “You seem like you need the help.”  

      Beau smirks because she knows he hates when she says things like that, but would hate it more if she’d told him the truth about the potential and the pain she sees in his eyes. As far as Caleb needs to know, Beau just thinks of him as a hot-headed, stupid kid, like all the other Archivists seem to. 

    Caleb frowns, not sure how to respond to that. It’s how a lot of their conversations go. 

     “Doesn’t this bother you? Wouldn’t you rather study somewhere else?” 

    His eyes shift downward, guilty and bitter. He probably regards Beau’s company as a sort of pity, kindness in response to a tragedy he refuses to share. 

     “You’re right,” Beau gets up and puts a hand on his arm, guiding but not pulling, “Let’s go upstairs to the library. I’ll show you something.” 

     Caleb doesn’t move, planting his feet on the dusty floor. If Beau dared attempt to pull him, he wouldn’t budge, physically stronger than her by a long shot. 

    “I have to stay here, I have work to do. I have to… I have to gets stronger.” Caleb’s eyes are desperate and lost, scrambling for purchase on a cliff face he’s doomed to fall down. 

      Beau’s smile disappears, taking on that sharp, appraising look Caleb recognizes from the first day she approached him. 

     “Why, Caleb? What do you have to do?”

    Caleb shakes his head, taking a step back from Beau, face forming a neutral mask as if it'll keep Beau out of his thoughts. Beau crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at him, peering beyond the veil. 

    Anyone who hadn’t spent as much time with Caleb as Beau had would’ve said that Caleb was like any other young monk, head full of delusions of grandeur and, for some, vengeance. Beau sees, in these moments and many others, that there’s something more than that, a mission greater than simple revenge that Caleb can’t, or won’t, put words to. 

   Beau relaxes her arms and beckons Caleb forward, one more time. 

   “C’mon, just one trip upstairs. I’ll make it worth your while.” Beau’s smile is not something one would call charming, too wide and forced, but it is perhaps compelling, daring her audience to challenge her. 

   Caleb looks uneasy, shifting on his feet. His eyes look up at Beau through the loose strings of hair falling out of the messy bun he ties it in.

   “Promise?” It’s half joking as Caleb walks forward, already following Beau but looking, on some level, for reassurance. 

    “Promise.” She keeps her smile for him and closes her heart to memories of her own crumbling foundation, reassurance she looked for and never received. 

    Books about fighting technique are deathly boring for Beau, but Caleb seems grateful for the knowledge. Beau is just glad he’s not working himself to collapse underneath the Archive unsupervised. 

    She’s resolved to do what it takes to keep Caleb’s flame from burning itself out and if that includes listening to him talking nonstop about some new moves he’s excited to try, Beau is willing to make that sacrifice. 

[getoffthesoapbox]

[GS] Goblin Slayer’s Foundational Sublayers

“Don't worry about the snakes in your garden when you've got spiders in your bed.”

I hope I’m not stepping on a landmine by posting about this particular show, given it’s controversial nature, but I’m quite floored by the layers I’m discovering in Goblin Slayer now that I’ve watched the first two episodes. I guess I’ll preface this with a couple disclaimers, then work out the rest under the cut.

First of all, I know nothing about Goblin Slayer other than that it is a light novel and has a manga variant. I’ve never read either, and have no intention of reading either in the near future. How the story unfolds or whether or not its intriguing and gripping premise devolves into pointless harem hijinks, I know not. If it’s merely a male power fantasy or if it has more substance, I know not. These things I will discover as they come within the anime. My post at this time is concerning what is right in front of me, the two episodes that are out. Whether the story can make good on what its more subtler layers are promising remains to be seen. 

Second of all, this post will not delve into the controversial elements of the two episodes other than to refer to them lightly as necessary. While I believe the human mind is stronger than common wisdom implies, I’m not interested in fighting people over what should have been warned or not, so I won’t be messing with it. It just bogs down the flow of a post to have such things, and it goes against my principles, so I’ll be stepping around it entirely. 

Preamble over. Let’s get crackin’.

Edgy Exploitation Fantasy or Psychological Horror Fantasy?

There used to be a subgenre of horror filmmaking called exploitation or grindhouse films. Some of the discussion I’m seeing about Goblin Slayer reminds me a bit of the controversies surrounding these shadier elements of filmmaking throughout film history. Artists are always pushing boundaries, touching taboos, and getting bit for going too far. This is the nature of art, and the whole process is fine--boundaries should be set by culture, but they should also be poked and prodded by subculture. It’s an eternal dance that is necessary and desirable for the health of a society. Go too far one way, and you’re too rigid. Go too far the other way, you’re unable to get your bearings. There is a time and a place to explore exploitation, and artists need to be free to go where the normal civilized person cannot. (Or at least, that’s what I believe.)

Where does Goblin Slayer fall, then? On the surface, one might say it easily falls into an exploitation subgenre. The first episode alone features men being viciously murdered and women facing far worse, all to set up the Heroic Entrance of the blank slate (quite literally, as he has no face) Audience-Insert Hero character. This Audience-Insert Hero Character then proceeds to Destroy All The Bad Things and save the day. In episode two, we find out the Audience-Insert Hero Character not only saves the day, but he’s the Only One who saves the day for the Little Guy and no one but his Harem, who he doesn’t notice because he’s Too Manly, appreciates him. 

If the above were all that Goblin Slayer had to it (and perhaps future episodes will truly devolve into such a premise), then I would agree with those who criticize its exploitation of its female (and male) characters for the sake of elevating its hero and allowing its audience the opportunity to both be titillated by the violence being done to the victims and enjoy the fantasy of rescuing the damsels in distress who can be rescued. In some ways, Goblin Slayer certainly isn’t shy about indulging in its exploitative opportunities. But I do think there’s more to it than merely the exploitation layer, and that’s why I haven’t dropped it. 

I think Goblin Slayer’s world building is some of the strongest I’ve seen in an anime fantasy setting in a long time, and the first episode left me with a genuine sense of horror that I haven’t felt in a long time. Horror is much like humor--it’s easy to spot and hard to do right. Jump scares and spooky sounds are one thing, but narrative horror--the kind you’d find in The King in Yellow or The Turn of the Screw--is much more difficult. The kind of horror that creeps up on you, that gets you thinking, that’s much harder. The same is true of slapstick comedy--it’s easy to do body humor, but difficult to do the more complicated forms. Goblin Slayer does an excellent job building its world into something truly horrific in its first two episodes, and while this does elevate its hero to truly “heroic” proportions, it also emphasizes just how difficult, unrewarding, thankless and necessary a task this man has undertaken is, and the depths of the evil which has snuck in by the back door. 

But more than the world building, more than the harem elements, Goblin Slayer gets so. much. right. on two very important narrative levels most people never even think about: the evolutionary level and the mythological/religious level. These two levels are buried beneath our stories, and most of the time in the rush of planning characters and plots and themes and the “things of heaven” so to speak, writers don’t even realize the “hell” at their feet, the foundation upon which they’re building. When a writer gets it right, you know, because people are drawn to it without being able to understand why, even if the plot, characters, and “themes” are badly written or terrible or repugnant morally. When a story gets the foundation layers right, there’s something in it that really calls an audience’s attention, for good or ill, and that’s what I want to explore here today. 

The Serpent In The Garden & The Heart

What struck me about the first two episodes of Goblin Slayer was that this world was fucked inside and out. This is the layer of myth and religion--whenever a story starts with a premise like that, we’re going straight back to the origin stories of mankind--the angry gods and goddesses, the banishment from paradises, the murdering of first brothers. Even if we’re secular people, we all carry within us the DNA of generations upon generations of people who held this mythology within their lives and blood. It influences us in ways we don’t even recognize to this day. 

Goblin Slayer makes a clear-cut case for the evils of the goblins themselves, and they’re the easiest to address first. The goblins are this story’s initial enemy, the “serpent in the garden” to to speak. They are the thing, according to the Hero, who is keeping the World from Paradise. The source of the fall, so to speak. And the story does an excellent job of establishing the horror of these creatures. In small groups or one-on-one, outside of their nest, they’re no threat at all, much like a lone rat might be or a lone wasp or a lone termite. But enter their nest and their layer, ignore them to let them multiply, and you’ll soon find yourself battling an infestation of the little buggers. These goblins are nasty little creatures--smart as dogs and rapacious as bed bugs. They hide from larger, scarier monsters, and loot poor, ill-defended villages, pillaging for supplies and women, who they drag back to their layers. Much like pillagers throughout humanity, these creatures swam what they want and devour it in whatever way strikes them. They’re truly horrific creatures.

Now this alone would be rather one-sided if the goblins were the only evil the story highlighted. But fortunately, there is a second layer that touches on the snakes that exist in the heart of every creature. Why are the goblin infestations increasing? Because humans don’t feel like dealing with them. They’re a hassle (like pests), they’re easy to kill as long as you don’t get swarmed, and there are bigger fish to fry (likely legitimately, but that hasn’t been justified yet). Worse, they tend to attack poorer villages that can’t afford to put up a town defense much less hire adventurers to assist them. The bounties aren’t worth it for anyone but the greenhorns looking for experience. So much of the destruction caused by these green menaces is due to human greed and sloth--”strong” humans are too important to waste time on “small” fry like goblins. Greenhorns are then sent to the slaughter--the ones who survive become regular adventurers and soon escape the grind of goblin-hunting while the unlucky ones get slaughtered or worse. 

Even with these two sides of horror--nature and the heart of man--this story would fall flat if it didn’t have one last piece of the triangle. Generally when stories fail at this level, they fail because their protagonist is “above” the serpent within. Fortunately for Goblin Slayer, the Goblin Slayer himself is not this kind of character. He may have a harem and he may be “heroic,” but the first two episodes of the story do not justify him or his actions. I think it might be easy to take his backstory flashback as a justification, but there are a few key moments that the story emphasizes which, in my opinion, make it clear that the flashback is merely to explain why he’s obsessed with his mission to eradicate the goblins, not to justify his actions. The first moment is in the first episode when he slaughters the helpless goblin children--while his words may be “correct,” they neither convince the Priestess nor do the visuals agree with him--he’s portrayed visually as an overbearing monster bearing down on the hapless creatures. In the second episode, he attempts to justify himself to the Priestess again, but what we see from her is not her nodding in agreement or having a Sudden Realization of his Righteousness--instead she is praying as they’re slaughtering the goblins. She still views him as wrong, even if this is a necessary evil in order to protect their own kind. 

On top of the Priestess’s alternative viewpoint and the camerawork, we have his Childhood Friend, whose pain and loneliness is emphasized. His work isn’t justified by her story, it’s criticized. While he’s off chasing down this endless revenge quest, he’s hurting a woman who has cared for him for most of his life. He’s missing out on the beauty of her company and her companionship, on the brighter side of life, on “heaven” so to speak. Her uncle wants her to give up on him, and understandably calls him crazy. But she is faithful in waiting, and in hoping that one day he’ll turn toward her. To be fair, the story does try to play things evenly rather than simply criticizing its main character (it does want you to root for the Goblin Slayer), and it does this through the Guild Clerk, who in my opinion is the least trustworthy of the heroines so far. She may “value” the Goblin Slayer, but she’s certainly willing to hand out goblin missions to unqualified greenhorns and use them as cannon fodder when necessary. The story makes it clear that she has a serpent in her heart as well. 

What I see here, with these three key elements in play, is the set up for a huge redemption arc not only for the Goblin Slayer, but also for the world at large. We’re starting off with both a fall from paradise (the goblin infestations rising) and the Problem of Malice/Evil (the indifference of the other adventurers and the obsession of the Goblin Slayer), both of which will have to be addressed and rectified before the end. It’s clear from the opening that, much like Guts from Berserk, the Goblin Slayer cannot complete his mission alone. He is not going to be able to actualize himself as a person and as a human being and free himself from his obsession until he is shown a bigger picture through the perspectives of the people who come into contact with him. 

The exploitation in the first two episodes to me seems to be ultimately necessary for establishing the sheer magnitude of the stakes in this story not just for the main hero and heroine, but also for the world itself. It is a world that has turned a blind eye to injustice in favor of greed, a world that is not functioning with proper order and is allowing chaos to flourish because people are trying to avoid facing what they don’t want to face. If this theme carries on throughout the entirety of the story, and if both the Goblin Slayer and the world change by the end, I think it could have the makings of quite a satisfying quest on the most fundamental of levels, even if it indulges in a few harem hijinks. 

Evolution On Display

This might be kind of a funny thing to notice, but I think the evolutionary layer is a key layer in storytelling that perhaps isn’t acceptable to modern sensibilities despite resonating deeply due to the nature of evolution.

On average, women tend to flock toward the men at the top of a hierarchy. These men, evolutionarily speaking, are the most likely to be able to offer security and safety for the woman and her offspring. Since only in the modern age have medicine and work opportunities become available to allow women to not rely so heavily on men’s assistance, this is something buried deep within the female psyche that they most likely don’t even realize is operating within them. 

Harem stories are annoying to me in general because I tend to find them unrealistic in some senses (generally the male figures in them are not what women themselves would pick as the “top of the crop” which is why women can so quickly pinpoint a male fantasy character vs. a legitimate top male). Male fantasy characters tend to be average schmucks whose only selling point is that they’re “nice” and can help solve the girls’ problems. Characters like that tend to be off-putting for female audiences because let’s face it, in real life you kind of need more to sell than just your niceness. ;) So in most harem stories of the anime variety, the harems the males gather to them are not earned the way real top males earn their harems. 

Take, for example, a star actor or a star sports hero--these men work their asses off night and day to rise above the crowd. They may get several girls who like them when they’re first starting their craft, say, in high school. By college they have a respectable harem of ladies who are interested. By the time they make their first break in the industry, maybe they have a new girl every night if they want. By the time they’re famous, they most likely can have whoever they want whenever they want. This is the nature of what it means to be on top. And this makes sense, because think about what comes “with” being a star of this kind--immense wealth, immense notoriety, immense resources. On a biological level, it only makes sense that these men would be incredibly attractive to women, women who might not mind sharing if it means having a piece of such a man. 

What I love about Goblin Slayer is that it actually accurately gets this element. Women see the worth of men and the likelihood of them making it to the “top” of the hierarchy earlier than men do. This is why the Childhood Friend’s conversation with her uncle in episode two was so interesting to me--he sees nothing of worth in the Goblin Slayer, but she already is seeing a man who has the ability to secure the life and resources she needs. She’s seeing the future while her uncle can only see the worthless sack of shit in the present. You see this effect also on the Priestess, who the Goblin Slayer rescues. She sees his worth as a protector, thus security. The Guild Girl also sees his worth in the status sector--he’s the Only One Who Will Fight Goblins, which is a status. The reason he gets ridiculed by other adventurers is because they don’t understand that he’s carving a niche status for himself (he himself doesn’t understand this either), but they instinctively fear that niche status. Ridicule comes from an instinctive fear of excellence. Whenever a man (or woman) begins reaching for excellence, it stirs up anxieties among the people around them who know subconsciously that they’re not striving for the same thing. 

Thus we end up with this realistic harem that actually works for once because it’s based (most likely subconsciously on the writer’s part) on actual evolutionary development. The Goblin Slayer is in the process of earning his status, his resources, and his harem. He is doing that with single-minded attention toward his goal, which is ultimately the eradication of goblins. Now, his goal is wrong, and he’ll have to temper it, but it’s an important part of the process guiding him toward the top of the hierarchy, where he’ll find the happiness he doesn’t know he’s looking for now. 

Why Fantasy Stories Aimed At Men Still Matter

I wasn’t going to go here when I started my post, but apparently I have something about it I want to say. 

There is certainly a push now to make stories of all shapes accessible to women, and I absolutely have no problem with this. Expanding the audiences for stories is perfectly fine (and smart from a business-standpoint!). But at the same time, I think something has been lost for male audiences in the process, and for female audiences as well, in removing the opportunity for a truly male-oriented worldview for (some) stories.

Stories are essentially a way to understand each other, to bridge the gap between our heads and other people’s. It is as helpful for a woman to watch a male harem fantasy as it is for a man to watch a female reverse harem fantasy--both offer windows into the dreams and wishes of each gender and give clues as to what kinds of personality traits are worth cultivating and what traits should be snuffed out as quickly as possible. 

The problem comes when one gender gets a monopoly over the other, or when one gender becomes naval-gazing and self-indulgent at the expense of the other, which is why (understandably) we’re seeing a movement toward stories with broader perspectives. The only downside to a broader perspective, of course, is that you lose intimacy and you lose the ability to enter a specific type of person’s worldview. (This brings me to mind of something like Lolita, which probably would not be able to be published in the modern day.) When you can’t narrow the perspective of a story to reflect a single mindset, you definitely lose some flavor along the way. Whether that flavor is worth losing or not is probably up to each individual viewer. 

The other problem that I’m seeing at least with recent storylines in anime is that even as they’re extending the narrative umbrella to female audiences, in the process they’re losing the aspirational aspect of men’s journeys. These stories aimed at men are no longer guiding them toward becoming the kind of men who can attract the women they want and be respected by their peers; instead they try to placate young men who have made nothing of themselves by offering them women who will accept them “as they are.” I see the same thing happening in stories for girls--girls aren’t aspiring to become the best partners they can for the men at the top of the hierarchy, instead they’re being told they can just “be themselves” and the top males will land in their lap for no reason at all simply because they’re the heroine. I find these kinds of stories to be dangerous in a great many ways because they foster false expectations and senses of entitlement that aren’t helpful when navigating difficult gender dynamics in the real world. 

What does this tangent have to do with Goblin Slayer? Well, as far as I can tell, Goblin Slayer is getting this right. The Goblin Slayer is not a layabout useless sack of crap whose childhood friend has to wake him up every day by jiggling her unrealistic assets in his face. He’s a man who is making his way in the world, a man who has a purpose he chose for himself, a man who pays for his rent, a man who gets himself up every day, a man who politely escorts the lady of the house where she wants to go, a man who is respectful and civilized. He is a man “in process,” which is a great place to start with a hero. Of course there is still growth--he needs to become more than merely a goblin murderer. If he wants to earn the harem he’s beginning to attract, he needs to expand as a person. But what I appreciate about this story is that it establishes the basics of what one needs to begin attracting the opposite sex--a job, industriousness, and excellence in one’s field of work. What’s even better is that this story is establishing that this can all be done without looks being a factor--the Goblin Slayer is never seen without his helmet, which means he’s attracting people based on what he does and how he acts. In other words, the Goblin Slayer is an aspirational figure, even with his flaws. 

Stories like this are necessary for young men so that they can see themselves as something other than useless layabouts who need a woman to wake them up in the morning. Stories like this are also necessary for the brave women who care to overlook the male perspective in order to gain understanding of how much work a man has to put in to even be able to attract any notice, and to what men are looking for both in relationships and in their lives in general. I guess maybe I as a viewer just like to see this aspect respected and hope that stories won’t be afraid to regain a bit of what has been lost in transition here. Again, I don’t want to lose stories that appeal to everyone, but I think it’s fine for some stories to focus specifically on one gender in order to help work through many of the problems and challenges that gender faces in the world. Goblin Slayer by itself can’t do that alone, and I’m not even saying it’s the best variant of this genre, but at the moment it’s getting things right and I like to praise things when I see them getting things right. 

He Who Runs Away Today Lives To Run Another Day

I hope I haven’t offended anyone with this post (it’s hard to talk about controversial subjects without offending at least half the room), but if I have I offer my sincere apologies. This was meant to be an exploration of the thoughts and feelings this story and some of the controversy surrounding it stirred up within me, and I’m not really sure I accomplished much more than merely getting some thoughts out on paper, but it is what it is. 

Whether you love Goblin Slayer or hate it or are indifferent to it, thank you for making it all the way to the end of this and I hope we’ll cross paths again.

Until next time!

[thewritinghole]

The AI Genie

Written by @elleleuthold. I made up the title because it didn’t have one.

I apologize for taking so long to post this, I had a few exams this week that took up my time.

Submit your writing to be featured here!!!

This is a short story I wrote in response to a prompt by @writing-prompt-s which said: “In the post apocalyptic wasteland, “genies” are actually still functioning AI’s that provide their “masters” advanced knowledge. You’ve just unearthed one while scavenging.” (original post here) If you like, you can find more of my work at @elleleuthold. Enjoy!

You touched it by accident. It looked like just another piece of long-forgotten scrap in the rubble, defunct of purpose without an ancient battery and fifteen accessories, but now it’s moving. What had been a sort of elongated cylinder is unfolding itself, expanding and growing one translucent layer of filmy darkness at a time.

“What the hell is it?” Lei asks. She leans in for a closer look, holding up her little cutting torch as if it can ward off an attack.

Not that you can think of a way this could attack, exactly, but you can remember Yan and Nima’s story about the undetonated landmine two wards over, and Chandra’s unfortunate discovery of the laz-blade that looked like a harmless pen, so you’re backing away slowly.

“Lei, come on,” you say, reaching for her.

“I’m only looking,” she protests as as you drag her back behind the crumbling remains of a cinder-block wall. “You don’t have to treat me like a kid, you know, I passed my explo trials same as you.”

You refrain from commenting. Anything you say will only lead to hours of pouting and pointless arguments and irritability and a horribly uncomfortable trip back to the settlement. Jedda Anisa and Ju-laoshi put you in charge and Lei knows it. You’re older, you’ve been out on more missions, and you’re the one they’ll blame if anything happens to her.

She wrenches her arm out of your grip but doesn’t try to pull away again. Maybe she’s remembering Chandra too, or one of the countless other stories you’ve both been fed since you started walking and poking your fingers into dark corners. There’s always plenty of fear to fill your belly with, no matter how scarce food gets.

The whatever-it-is settles, somehow, sealing together into a dark and perfectly smooth sphere about the size of your head. A light pulses inside it, but nothing else happens.

“Maybe it’s charging,” Lei whispers.

“For what?” you ask, and she shrugs.

“But it’s a good sign, right? I mean, the sun-powered stuff doesn’t usually explode, right?”

“I guess,” you admit. Not-exploding is one thing, actually useful is another. You can’t imagine why anyone would go to so much trouble to make what looks like an overly complicated night light. What could it possibly do for anyone?

The light intensifies, then stops blinking.

Then the thing screams, a high-pitched and staccato burst of sound, and you clamp your hands over your ears in an attempt to shut it out. Lei is saying something, her mouth is definitely moving, but you can’t make out any words, just the extended wail of the sphere in its little hollow.

Silence.

“What was that,” Lei asks, and you shake your head. None of the Devices you’ve ever heard of did anything like this.

“What snaphthilsn yilerfno,” says the sphere.

Lei turns to you, wide eyed, but you don’t have any answers. An extra hour or two of reading every week doesn’t make you an expert on spoken communication.

“We should leave,” you decide. Machines that talk are definitely on Jedda Anisa’s list of Things To Avoid.

“Bopleddooort gerufl what kiwachi you,” says the sphere.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lei says. “Look at it! It’s talking! It can tell us what it’s for!”

“It could be talking to satellite weapons systems,” you say, grabbing at her hand again. “Come on, there’s only a few hours of daylight left, we should get home. Maybe one of the teachers can tell us what to do.”

“What snklur do you wish porokkkl,” says the sphere.

“Wishes?” Lei asks. She grins, lit up and eager like you haven’t seen her since her brother walked out into the wastes and didn’t come back.

“Lei,” you start, but she’s already bounding over to the thing, caution forgotten.

“Do you grant wishes?” she asks it. “Is that what you’re for? Are the stories true and–”

“It’s not fucking magic!” you yell. “This isn’t a fairy tale, and you know it. It’s a talking bit of tech we know nothing about, and it’s not a djinni, or a wizard, or a magic ring, and no matter what you do it can’t bring the dead back. It can’t fix the sky, or clean water, or grow food, no matter how much you say I wish everything was better, I wish we could just go back to how it was, it’s never going to happen because the world doesn’t work that way.”

You realize you’re shouting, your arms thrown out in frustration. Lei is glaring murder at you, the twist of her mouth and set of her shoulders all injured pride and choked-back pain.

You sigh and drop your arms.

“Sorry,” you say. “But you know what everyone would say if we told them–”

“Plosrn,” says the sphere. “Clean water, grow food. oflipr air kawat, yes, I can ferubl that.”

You can feel the push and pull of your lungs, but you can’t seem to breathe. Like the bad days, when the smog rolls in thicker than soup in your mouth, seeping through your nose and painting your throat raw so you gag with it, choking and coughing until your stomach cramps and there are tears on your cheeks.

Like that, but there’s no smog today. No one’s allowed outside the settlement on those days. And yet here you are, stomach cramping, eyesight blurring, no breath in your lungs.

“What did you say?” The words feel torn out of you.

“Clean water, grow food, oflipr air kawat,” the sphere repeats. “Olemy.”

It drifts away over the cracked concrete slabs and twisted rebar and scraggly little gray grasses, out toward the deep wastes. You blink hard against the blurriness and try to look closer, but it’s not really doing anything but leaving.

“We have to follow it,” Lei says. She’s gripping your arm. You don’t know when she started that, but you can feel the bony clench of her hand even through two jackets and three layers of shirts. “You know we do.”

You manage to nod and stumble after the thing. Food and clean water are always priorities, but you’re barely paying attention to that. You’d thought you’d given up on hope years ago, when the old windmill broke and took the radio down with it and your mother said I’m sorry, this isn’t the world I wanted for you. But there’s a lightness in your chest, a quiet space in your mind that doesn’t feel empty, like hunger, or dragging, like despair. It’s the glow of watchtower light when you’re racing a storm and the sound of one hundred and thirty seven voices raised in song, welcoming you home.

You almost trip over the sphere when it stops. Lei runs into your back and clings to your shoulders. 1500 meters, some part of you notes. That’s how far you are from the buggy, with its extra water and ration packs, and the breather tank, and the emergency shelter and your javelins. It’s a full thousand meters further into the wastes than you’ve ever been before.

The sphere is chirping to itself, nothing resembling language this time. The light inside flickers, and then… a doorway opens into the earth. The sphere passes through it, and a moment later light pours forth, brighter than the lamps back home and tinged faintly blue.

A vault, you think, barely daring to voice the words even in your mind. Lei is praying in your ear, her breath on your cheek, and then the chant is tumbling over your own lips, a rolling invocation as you take one step, and then another, and then you’re inside.

It’s pristine. The only dust is what’s blown in with you since the seal broke. No scurrying rats, no nesting wasps, no creeping mold. You walk through the little entryway, scanning signs and labels on cabinets, shelves and stacks of old vacuum trunks. You can’t read it all—Old Arabic mixed with Pinyin and Cyrillic, and some others you don’t recognize—but you can read enough. You press your hand flat against a crate marked Seeds as if it can ground you in this place, because you already know you’re going to remember this forever. This is a Moment, as your sister likes to call them. The exact second of discovery that changes your world forever.

There are filtration units on a shelf to your right. Air scrubbers further down the row. And you can’t see the far wall, just shelf after shelf of supplies and tools and plastic-wrapped treasures. The sphere is bobbing along more than fifty feet away, a miracle you’d never thought would come.

Lei holds your free hand tightly, and you squeeze back, harder than you should, hard enough to bruise, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“See,” she says, smiling like the sunrise, “It grants wishes after all.”

And you pull her close, so full with brimming light you can’t form words, and you laugh until you cry.

[strangerkingdom]

2017 is for Growth

2016 was a stagnant year. I know, I know! “When is she gonna stop talking about the new year already?! We’re 9 days in!.” Shut up! 

But really, there was absolutely nothing I can think of at the moment that was created in 2016 for me other than my fat ass. Needless to say this is cause quite the lull in my personal life and looking back on it absolutely bores me. 

I mentioned before in a previous entry what my resolution was. It was about being the best Erin that could possibly be. I’ve been doing the Paleo diet and can say I have already lost almost 5 pounds in 9 days. I thought the diet was going to be a lot harder but as it turns out it isn’t, other than constantly craving potatoes, butter and cheese.

 I have painted a picture and started on a second one which serves to be a rather big project since the canvas is almost as tall as I am and wider than I am. 

My boyfriend and I have come up with a fresh new perspective on our relationship to keep things interesting and also that we can have a better understanding of where each other are coming from. 

And the biggest news of all, I am possibly starting 2 new jobs within the year that allows me to work forward and upwards in the field that I want to work in. So though, there were a couple setbacks and heartaches already this year, things are looking up all in all. 

As far as my sanity goes I found this list of things to tell yourself on Tumblr that I have written down and keep on my desk next to my computer for me to read every day. 

6 Things to Tell Yourself Today

I matter.

I’ll get through this.

I am beautiful.

I deserve to be loved.

I can find peace, happiness and contentment.

I have the power and the will to survive. 

6 simple things that seem obvious but sometimes just need to be said out loud every once in a while. Adulting is hard and it’s easy to get overwhelmed by things you should be doing, what you think you should be doing and what you actually want to do. 

Did I mention tax season is around the corner? This may very well be the last year I get excited about doing my taxes. Once I start making more money the government will give little consideration to giving me back my tax money. 

Alright, so I would also like to add something interesting to this entry rather than me going on and on about myself. 

For a while now I have been interested in bees, especially working with children who are absolutely terrified at the sight of a bee and just as soon will swat at it then run away from it. I try to emphasize to them that bees are very important to our world and that they shouldn’t be afraid of them when one comes near. Chances are the bee might think you’re a flower, you may have something pleasant smelling on your person that they are attracted to and they don’t sting you just for the sport of stinging like wasps or hornets. They pretty much have one purpose and that is to provide for their colony. In doing so they fly from flower to flower, pollinating and producing and providing us with the food and air that we need to survive in the long run. They’re a noble and important little insects that serve a huge purpose in keeping all living creatures here in this world. All of my kids look at me like I’m nuts and are quick to disagree, but given the news within the last couple years, stating that bee numbers are in danger and even certain species of bees have been put on the endangered list (allegedly) I try to do what I can in making sure bees are safe. After all, if there’s no bees, there’s no plants. With no plants, there’s no food. Without food, well, you can see where I’m going with this. I actually go out of my way to rescue tired little bees that can’t lift themselves off of the ground or out of a puddle. 

I’d like to end this entry with a few interesting little facts about bees that may create an interest for somebody else. 

The reason honey is so easy to digest is that it’s already been digested by a bee. 

Honey is the only food that includes all the substances necessary to sustain life, includingenzymes, vitamins, minerals, and water; and it's the only food that contains "pinocembrin", an antioxidant associated with improved brain functioning.

The honey bee's wings stroke incredibly fast, about 200 beats per second, thus making their famous, distinctive buzz. A honey bee can fly for up to six miles, and as fast as 15 miles per hour.

A hive of bees will fly 90,000 miles, the equivalent of three orbits around the earth to collect 1 kg of honey.

It takes one ounce of honey to fuel a bee's flight around the world.

The bee's brain is oval in shape and only about the size of a sesame seed, yet it has remarkable capacity to learn and remember things and is able to make complex calculations on distance traveled and foraging efficiency.

Larger than the worker bees, the male honey bees (also called drones), have no stinger and do no work at all. All they do is mating. In fact, before winter or when food becomes scarce, female honeybees usually force surviving males out of the nest.

Each honey bee colony has a unique odour for members' identification.

Only worker bees sting, and only if they feel threatened and they die once they sting. Queens have a stinger, but they don't leave the hive to help defend it. It is estimated that 1100 honey bee stings are required to be fatal.

Honey bees communicate with one another by dancing. More on their awesome sense of time, communication of distance and direction in "The Awesome Honeybee Dance".

During winter, honey bees feed on the honey they collected during the warmer months. They form a tight cluster in their hive to keep the queen and themselves warm.

A toxin in bee venom called melittin may prevent HIV. Melittin can kill HIV by poking holes into the virus's protective envelope. (Meanwhile, when mellitin hitches a ride on certain nanoparticles, it will just bounce off normal cells and leave them unharmed.) Scientists at Washington University in St. Louis hope the toxin can be used in preventative gels.

Honeybees make out faces the same way we do. They take parts—like eyebrows, lips, and ears—and cobble them together to make out the whole face. It’s called “configular processing,” and it might help computer scientists improve face recognition technology, the New York Times reports.

Serial killers behave like bees. They commit their crimes close to home, but far away enough that the neighbors don’t get suspicious. Similarly, bees collect pollen near their hive, but far enough that predators can’t find the hive. To understand how this “buffer zone” works, scientists studied bee behavior and wrote up a few algorithms. Their findings improved computer models police use to find felons.

If the queen bee dies, workers will create a new queen by selecting a young larva (the newly hatched baby insects) and feeding it a special food called 'royal jelly'. This enables the larva to develop into a fertile queen.

Sadly, over the past 15 years, colonies of bees have been disappearing, and the reason remains unknown. Referred to as 'colony collapse disorder', billions of Honey bees across the world are leaving their hives, never to return.

We can all do our bit to support these brilliant bugs by planting flowers rich in nectar, such as lavender and bluebells, which will help bees find the food they need.

 Honey never spoils.

Bees can’t see the same spectrum of colors as we do. For example, yellow flowers appear blue to bees. And bees seem particularly attracted to blue flowers (and the yellow flowers that appear blue to them). Of course, bees do go to other colors of flowers, but just as hummingbirds really like red flowers, bees really like yellow and blue flowers. Also, bees can’t see the color red. 

[readbookywooks]

The Disc sun was close to the horizon by the time Binky cantered wearily through the skies over Sto Lat, and Mort looked down and saw the borderland of reality. It curved away below him, a crescent of faint silver mist. He didn't know what it was, but he had a nasty foreboding that it had something to do with him. He reined in the horse and allowed him to trot gently towards the ground, touching down a few yards behind the wall of iridescent air. It was moving at something less than walking pace, hissing gently as it drifted ghost-like across the stark damp cabbage fields and frozen drainage ditches. It was a cold night, the type of night when frost and fog fight for domination and every sound is muffled. Binky's breath made fountains of cloud in the still air. He whinnied gently, almost apologetically, and pawed at the ground. Mort slid out of the saddle and crept up to the interface. It crackled softly. Weird shapes coruscated across it, flowing and shifting and disappearing. After some searching he found a stick and poked it cautiously into the wall. It made strange ripples that wobbled slowly out of sight. Mort looked up as a shape drifted overhead. It was a black owl, patrollng the ditches for anything small and squeaky. It hit the wall with a splash of sparkling mist, leaving an owl-shaped ripple that grew and spread until it joined the boiling kaleidoscope. Then it vanished. Mort could see through the transparent interface, and certainly no owl reappeared on the other side. Just as he was puzzling over this there was another soundless splash a few feet away and the bird burst into view again, totally unconcerned, and skimmed away across the fields. Mort pulled himself together, and stepped through the barrier which was no barrier at all. It tingled. A moment later Binky burst through after him, eyes rolling in desperation and tendrils of interface catching on his hooves. He reared up, shaking his mane like a dog to remove clinging fibres of mist, and looked at Mort beseechingly. Mort caught his bridle, patted him on the nose, and fumbled in his pocket for a rather grubby sugar lump. He was aware that he was in the presence of something important, but he wasn't yet quite sure what it was. There was a road running between an avenue of damp and gloomy willow trees. Mort remounted and steered Binky across the field into the dripping darkness under the branches. In the distance he could see the lights of Sto Helit, which really wasn't much more than a small town, and a faint glow on the edge of sight must be Sto Lat. He looked at it longingly. The barrier worried him. He could see it creeping across the field behind the trees. Mort was on the point of urging Binky back into the air when he saw the light immediately ahead of him, warm and beckoning. It was spilling from the windows of a large building set back from the road. It was probably a cheerful sort of light in any case, but in these surroundings and compared with Mort's mood it was positively ecstatic. As he rode nearer he saw shadows moving against it, and made out a few snatches of song. It was an inn, and inside there were people having a good time, or what passed for a good time if you were a peasant who spent most of your time closely concerned with cabbages. Compared to brassicas, practically anything is fun. There were human beings in there, doing uncomplicated human things like getting drunk and forgetting the words of songs. Mort had never really felt homesick, possibly because his mind had been too occupied with other things. But he felt it now for the first time – a sort of longing, not for a place, but for a state of mind, for being just an ordinary human being with straightforward things to worry about, like money and sickness and other people. . . . 'I shall have a drink,' he thought, 'and perhaps I shall feel better.' There was an open-fronted stable at one side of the main building, and he led Binky into the warm, horse-smelling darkness that already accommodated three other horses. As Mort unfastened the nosebag he wondered if Death's horse felt the same way about other horses which had rather less supernatural lifestyles. He certainly looked impressive compared to the others, which regarded him watchfully. Binky was a real horse – the blisters of the shovel handle on Mort's hands were a testimony to that – and compared to the others he looked more real than ever. More solid. More horsey. Slightly larger than life. In fact, Mort was on the verge of making an important deduction, and it is unfortunate that he was distracted, as he walked across the yard to the inn's low door, by the sight of the inn sign. Its artist hadn't been particularly gifted, but there was no mistaking the line of Keli's jaw or her mass of fiery hair in the portrait of The Quene's Hed. He sighed, and pushed open the door. As one man, the assembled company stopped talking and stared at him with the honest rural stare that suggests that for two pins they'll hit you around the head with a shovel and bury your body under a compost heap at full moon. It might be worth taking another look at Mort, because he's changed a lot in the last few chapters. For example, while he still has plenty of knees and elbows about his person, they seem to have migrated to their normal places and he no longer moves as though his joints were loosely fastened together with elastic bands. He used to look as if he knew nothing at all; now he looks as though he knows too much. Something about his eyes suggests that he has seen things that ordinary people never see, or at least never see more than once. Something about all the rest of him suggests to the watchers that causing an inconvenience for this boy might just be as wise as kicking a wasp nest. In short, Mort no longer looks like something the cat brought in and then brought up. The landlord relaxed his grip on the stout blackthorn peacemaker he kept under the bar and composed his features into something resembling a cheerful welcoming grin, although not very much. 'Evening, your lordship,' he said. 'What's your pleasure this cold and frosty night?' 'What?' said Mort, blinking in the light. 'What he means is, what d'you want to drink?' said a small ferret-faced man sitting by the fire, who was giving Mort the kind of look a butcher gives a field full of lambs. 'Um. I don't know,' said Mort. 'Do you sell stardrip?' 'Never heard of it, lordship.' Mort looked around at the faces watching him, illuminated by the firelight. They were the sort of people generally called the salt of the earth. In other words, they were hard, square and bad for your health, but Mort was too preoccupied to notice. 'What do people like to drink here, then?' The landlord looked sideways at his customers, a clever trick given that they were directly in front of him. 'Why, lordship, we drink scumble, for preference.' 'Scumble?' said Mort, failing to notice the muffled sniggers. 'Aye, lordship. Made from apples. Well, mainly apples.' This seemed healthy enough to Mort. 'Oh, right,' he said. 'A pint of scumble, then.' He reached into his pocket and withdrew the bag of gold that Death had given him. It was still quite full. In the sudden hush of the inn the faint clink of the coins sounded like the legendary Brass Gongs of Leshp, which can be heard far out to sea on stormy nights as the currents stir them in their drowned towers three hundred fathoms below. 'And please serve these gentlemen with whatever they want,' he added. He was so overwhelmed by the chorus of thanks that he didn't take much notice of the fact that his new friends were served their drink in tiny, thimble-sized glasses, while his alone turned up in a large wooden mug. A lot of stories are told about scumble, and how it is made out on the damp marshes according to ancient recipes handed down rather unsteadily from father to son. It's not true about the rats, or the snake heads, or the lead shot. The one about the dead sheep is a complete fabrication. We can lay to rest all the variations of the one about the trouser button. But the one about not letting it come into contact with metal is absolutely true, because when the landlord flagrantly shortchanged Mort and plonked the small heap of copper in a puddle of the stuff it immediately began to froth. Mort sniffed his drink, and then took a sip. It tasted something like apples, something like autumn mornings, and quite a lot like the bottom of a logpile. Not wishing to appear disrespectful, however, he took a swig. The crowd watched him, counting under its breath. Mort felt something was being demanded of him. 'Nice,' he said, 'very refreshing.' He took another sip. 'Bit of an acquired taste,' he added, 'but well worth the effort, I'm sure.' There were one or two mutters of discontent from the back of the crowd. 'He's been watering the scumble, that's what 'tis.' 'Nay, thou knowst what happens if you lets a drop of water touch scumble.' The landlord tried to ignore this. 'You like it?' he said to Mort, in pretty much the same tone of voice people used when they said to St George, 'You killed a what?' 'It's quite tangy,' said Mort. 'And sort of nutty.' 'Excuse me,' said the landlord, and gently took the mug out of Mort's hand. He sniffed at it, then wiped his eyes. 'Uuunnyag,' he said. 'It's the right stuff all right.' He looked at the boy with something verging on admiration. It wasn't that he'd drunk a third of a pint of scumble in itself, it was that he was still vertical and apparently alive. He handed the pot back again: it was as if Mort was being given a trophy after some incredible contest. When the boy took another mouthful several of the watchers winced. The landlord wondered what Mort's teeth were made of, and decided it must be the same stuff as his stomach. 'You're not a wizard by any chance?' he enquired, just in case. 'Sorry, no. Should I be?' Didn't think so, thought the landlord, he doesn't walk like a wizard and anyway he isn't smoking anything. He looked at the scumble pot again. There was something wrong about this. There was something wrong about the boy. He didn't look right. He looked — — more solid than he should do. That was ridiculous, of course. The bar was solid, the floor was solid, the customers were as solid as you could wish for. Yet Mort, standing there looking rather embarrassed and casually sipping a liquid you could clean spoons with, seemed to emit a particularly potent sort of solidness, an extra dimension of realness. His hair was more hairy, his clothes more clothy, his boots the epitome of bootness. It made your head ache just to look at him. However, Mort then demonstrated that he was human after all. The mug dropped from his stricken fingers and clattered on the flagstones, where the dregs of scumble started to eat its way through them. He pointed at the far wall, his mouth opening and shutting wordlessly. The regulars turned back to their conversations and games of shovel-up, reassured that things were as they should be; Mort was acting perfectly normally now. The landlord, relieved that the brew had been vindicated, reached across the bar top and patted him companionably on the shoulder. 'It's all right,' he said. 'It often takes people like this, you'll just have a headache for a few weeks, don't worry about it, a drop of scumble'll see you all right again.' It is a fact that the best remedy for a scumble hangover is a hair of the dog, although it should more accurately be called a tooth of the shark or possibly a tread of the bulldozer. But Mort merely went on pointing and said, in a trembling voice, 'Can't you see it? It's coming through the wall! It's coming right through the wall!' 'A lot of things come through the wall after your first drink of scumble. Green hairy things, usually.'