#i could use something else but ive already eaten one slice

[strawberry-bugs]

sadly eats unbuttered toast

[thetenthdoctorscompanion]

For the Christmas prompt thingy! Honestly I'll take all the help I can get getting into the holiday spirit. (I literally just got back from seeing the nutcracker for the 1st time ever and while i loved it, still nothing as far as holiday cheer goes😔)Obviously you know which one of your oc couples is my favorite and i never get tired of(S+C(+E)), but if you want a break from them, I also accept Dean and Kat or Stiles and Sadie. Any # tbh but 3, 7 or 10 caught my eye. I appreciate the help 😅🎄

I know that this took me until Christmas Eve-Eve, but I hope that it still gives you a little boost. I knew exactly which one I wanted to do as soon as you sent this.

iv. taking their time picking the tree

Christine had experienced almost every kind of Christmas she could imagine. She’d had years where she and her dad had just gone to the movies and eaten Chinese food. She’d had years where she went to a big Christmas party thrown by whatever company her dad was working for that year. She’d had Christmases where they decided to skip Christmas and try to recreate Hannukah the way her mother would’ve done it. Big Christmas, small Christmas, or no Christmas—Christine didn’t have a lot of expectations.

This year, though, she knew things would be different.

Once everything in Hawkins had settled and healed, once she’d finally grabbed her diploma without being eaten by an interdimensional monster, Christine left Indiana behind for MIT. Moving to Massachusetts might’ve been bittersweet if she hadn’t taken so much of Hawkins with her. It was hard to miss home when she was sharing an apartment with Eddie and Steve.

There hadn’t been much debate about the situation. Both boys cared more about Christine than anything keeping them in Hawkins—except Wayne, who Eddie called pretty much every day. He worked for cash at the local mechanic, Steve climbing his way to up to assistant manager at a nearby movie theater. They split rent and groceries three ways, which meant Christine was saving loads on room and board. It also meant spending every day with two of her favorite people.

Most days it was a little slice of heaven.

Today, it was decidedly not.

“Will you two stop arguing?” Christine begged. “My feet are about to freeze in these boots.”

“I’ll stop arguing when Eddie takes his head out of his ass,” Steve complained. He had his arms folded over his chest, giving Eddie a stern look. “We’re not getting this one. Pick something else.”

“No,” Eddie said stubbornly. “Why would I pick something else when we could have this beauty of a tree?”

“Because this beauty of a tree isn’t going to fit through the door, let alone in the living room. It’s about three feet too tall.”

“Wha—no, it’s not.” Eddie scoffed, struggling to hold the tree upright as another gust of wind blew through the lot. “Okay, it’s tall, but once they do a fresh cut on the bottom and we trim the top—”

“Dude, they’d have to cut the damn thing in half! We’re not buying it!”

Eddie swore and dropped the tree back against the fence, which creaked dangerously under the weight. “Well we’re not buying that shrimp of a tree that you picked out. Why the fuck would we get a three-foot Christmas tree?”

“Because it’s practical,” Steve said for the hundredth time. “The apartment’s already too small for us and, unless the tree’s gonna pay rent, I’m not letting it take up a quarter of the living room.”

“It’s for one month, Harrington. Don’t be a Scrooge.”

“Hilarious. Have you even read that?”

“What, because you have?”

“Guys, stop,” Christine pleaded. “Can’t we just split the difference and get a five-foot?”

“No,” the boys replied in unison.

Christine whined and snuggled further into her winter coat. They’d been standing in the tree lot for almost an hour, but with the wind chill, it felt like four. Even with two pairs of socks, her boots, her gloves, her sweater, scarf, coat, and hat, Christine could feel her blood starting to crystalize in her veins. Eddie seemed to be impervious to the cold, merely adding a hat and gloves to his usual ensemble of ripped jeans and flannel. Steve was bundled up in his peacoat, but he was so irritated that his anger was doing a better job of keeping him warm.

She knew, in theory, why they were having this argument. Steve had grown up with an over-the-top Christmas every year, a tree larger than God in his living room. Eddie never had that opportunity. In the trailer with Wayne, the most they ever did was hang up twinkle lights in the living room. This year, in their own apartment, they had a chance to do Christmas their way. They just couldn’t decide what their way was going to be.

“I still say we get a fake tree,” Steve huffed. “It’s less money in the long run and—”

“Over my dead body, Harrington.”

“Oho—we’re getting there, Munson!”

“Come on, angel, back me up here,” Eddie said, turning his puppy eyes to Christine.

“We’re not getting a fake tree,” she sighed. Eddie punched the air in victory and Steve groaned, sour until she added, “Because if we get a fake tree, it means I’ve been standing here for an hour freezing my ass off for no reason. I literally do not care what kind of tree we get. So help me, God—you two are gonna pick a tree, strap it to the car, and take me home before I take that seven-footer and shove it up your ass.”

“Wow, okay, uh…” Steve scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Which one of us?”

“Both of you,” she growled, “one on each end.”

The boys winced, then exchanged a look of resignation. Eddie shrugged and tipped his head to the side, a silent “you heard her” to Steve. Steve pursed his lips and looked around the lot one last time before he folded.

“We’re not doing anything bigger than six feet. And you’re vacuuming, Munson! If there’s a single needle in the carpet come January—”

“Then you can use me as a tree topper next year,” Eddie said, hand over his heart. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

“Oh, fuck you, Munson.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Eddie winked as walked around Christine, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back into his chest. The boy was like a furnace, heat radiating through her layers as he kissed the top of her head. “But I think we have to thaw-out the princess first.”

[spooderboyandtincan]

Presumed Dead

TW: Self destructive behavior, mentions of blood, mentions of needles, mentions of starving (not intentional)

“Peter, please, just a few bites,” May murmured. “You’re going to get sick, honey.”

Peter stared blankly at the food, silent. He shook his head.

“Peter. Oh sweetie,” she whispered. She stirred the spoon in the soup. “Maybe later?”

May got up from the bed, quietly shutting the door behind her. 

Natasha looked up. 

“He’s still not eating. I- I don’t know what to do.”

Nat sighed. “Does he talk?”

“No. Nothing.”

“We can get Bruce to set him up on an IV,” she suggested.

“He hates needles. He probably won’t let him. He’d only let Tony-” May winced. 

They heard a gut-wrenching sob from behind the closed door. 

~~~~~

Steve paced the length of the living room. 

The silence was new.

Something they couldn’t get used to.

Bruce had disappeared. So had Rhodey.

Thor had left for Asgard as soon as he heard.

No one had seen Happy in days.

Nat, May and Pepper curled on the couch together. Clint hovered behind them. Sam stood off to the side, looking worried.

“How’s Pete?” Steve asked.

May shook her head. “He’s not doing so good. Won’t eat. Won’t talk.” 

“God. We’re supposed to take care of him. Tony’s gone. It’s our job now,” Steve muttered. 

Tony’s dead.

“It’s our job. You’re right,” Clint said. “May… you’ve known him for the longest… what do you think we should do?”

May shrugged helplessly. “Even I don’t know. He’s devastated.”

“Peter- I think he just can’t. He can’t eat, can’t talk,” Pepper added.

“He needs to. We- we can’t lose him too,” Clint said. 

The thought of losing Peter, their bright, cheerful boy, was almost too much to think of. 

~~~~~

Peter staggered to his feet. He leaned against the wall to keep himself upright. 

He was weak.

Skinny.

Hungry.

He wasn’t Spider-Man. Not anymore.

He wasn’t anybody.

Peter didn’t realize he was biting his knuckles until the taste of blood stung his mouth. 

Blood. Tony’s blood. Everywhere 

Nothing but blood

The Iron Man helmet

Stained and dented

Nothing else

No Tony

No suit

Just the helmet and blood

Tony’s blood

Peter collapsed, knocking his head against the wall. He landed on the shards of glass, from when he had thrown his Iron Man snowglobe through the window.

He sobbed, the glass slicing his palms and knees. But he didn’t care. 

Tony was gone. 

He was dead.

It was all his fault.

He choked, gasping for air, clawing at his neck. “Mr. Stark!” he screamed. “Mr. Stark!”

Nonono why did he leave?

Why did he leave me?

“Mr. Stark! Why did you leave me?! I need you!” he wailed. 

Shards pierced through his jeans. He could hear footsteps running up the stairs. It was too loud. 

Tooloudtooloudtooloud

Mr. Stark! Help me!

I can’t breathe

“Peter!”

It was May. But he didn’t want May. He wanted Tony.

Tony was dead.

Peter screamed. 

~~~~~

“He collapsed?” Helen asked, bandaging Peter’s small, bloody hands. “Did he hit his head?”

“No,” May said anxiously, wringing her hands. “He was already on the ground.”

“He’s unhealthily thin, and extremely dehydrated. He hasn’t eaten anything?” 

“No. He refused.”

“I’ll have to set him up on an IV,” she said, already gathering equipment. 

“Can’t- can’t he just go one more day? Maybe he’ll eat.”

“May,” Cho said sternly. “You’re a nurse. You know he needs this.”

“He hates needles…” she whispered. 

“I know. But I’d rather have him alive with needles in him than dead without.”

May flinched at the severity of her words. Just then Nat, Sam, Steve, Pepper and Clint sprinted in.

“How’s Peter?” Pepper asked urgently.

May sighed. “We’re putting him on an IV. He’s really sick.” 

“What happened to his hands?” Clint asked, stepping forward. 

“Glass. His window was broken. I guess he fell on it.” 

The team stared in shock at the boy, pale and still, far too thin. Tear tracks were fresh on his cheeks, his jeans bloodied, his hands bandaged. 

Where was the happy, energetic, cheerful Peter they all knew?

Dead, along with Tony?

~~~~~

Peter woke up. 

But he didn’t want to.

The grief and anguish hit him in waves. 

“Tony,” he whispered. “Mr. Stark?”

“Dad?” 

Nothing. 

He held back a sob. He tried to bring his hand to his face, but it was pulled back.

An IV? 

He looked around. 

Medbay.

He remembered screaming. Glass. And the blood. 

So much blood.

He could hear talking, outside the door. 

He didn’t want to listen. 

~~~~~

“It’s been five days since we found… you know, Tony,” Sam muttered. “Peter hasn’t eaten, had water, or left his room for five days.”

“Yeah, Sam. That’s why he’s on an IV,” Clint snapped. 

“I know, I know. But he’s destroying himself. We can’t just let it happen.” 

Nat sighed. “He’s grieving… what can we do?”

They stood in silence. 

It wasn’t silent for long. 

There was a set of footsteps thundering up the stairs. The team spun around, pulling out various weapons, guns, tasers, shields, and May grabbing a potted plant from the hallway table.

The door burst open, nearly cracking the wall, and there was... Tony?

They stared at him blankly. “Tony?” May whispered, lowering the plant.

His clothes were ragged and torn, his face bruised and bloody, and his left leg bandaged heavily. He was panting, looking terrified.

“Where’s Peter?!” he asked, frantically, voice trembling. “Why isn’t he with you?! Is he okay?!”

May was the first to step forward. “The hell he isn’t okay!” she nearly snarled. “He thinks you’re dead!” She looked like she was about to slap him. 

“He- he what…?” Tony muttered. Then he was sprinting to his kid. 

~~~~~

Peter’s hospital room was dark. The only sounds were the whirring of the IV and Peter’s choked, staggered breathing.

“Petey?” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Nothing. 

He walked closer. Peter stared listlessly at the light blue walls, eyes blank. 

The joyful, child-like, bright spark that his eyes had held was gone.

Oh god. What had he done? 

“Peter,” he murmured, “Petey. It’s okay now. I’m here. We’re okay.”

Silence.

Tony realized his hands were shaking violently. 

He’d never seen Peter like this.

“Petey, you’re scaring me. Please, mimmo, look at me. I’m right here.”

Carefully, gently, he bent, squatting by the bed, and touched Peter’s shoulder. “Pete? I’m here, baby. You’re okay.”

He was terrified at the blank, lifeless look in Peter’s eyes. 

This was all his fault.

He gently tapped Peter’s soft cheek. “Petey? Please, baby. I’m here. I’m here. Dad’s here.”

Peter’s big brown eyes gazed at him, confused, uncomprehending. Tony watched, heart pounding, stroking Peter’s cheek.  

“‘M I dead?” the boy whispered.

Tony flinched. “No- no, no sweetheart. You’re here, you’re alive, you’re breathing. We’re okay.”

“You’re dead. You’re gone. You left me,” Peter said dully. “Why’d you leave?”

“Petey, no, I’m not gone. I’ll never leave you. Ever.” Tony ran a hand through Peter’s curls. “Feel that? I’m here, Petey, I’m real. We’re okay.” 

Peter looked at him, eyes wide. Tony smiled gently. 

Suddenly, that boy was launching himself up in bed, sobbing hysterically. Tony lunged forward, catching him and pulling him onto his lap.

Peter sobbed, tears and snot dripping down his face, which he pressed into Tony’s chest. He hugged Tony tightly, cries muffled.

Tony cradled him close. God, he was so thin.  

He kissed the boy’s hair, murmuring words of comfort, rocking him back and forth. 

“Mr. Stark, I thought you were dead!” Peter wailed. “IthoughtyouweredeadIthoughtyouleftme!Mr. Stark!”

“Shh, shh, Peter, I’ll never leave you, I will never, ever leave you. I will always be here. It’s okay, bambino. I got you.” Tony squeezed him tightly. 

Peter choked and gasped. Tony could feel his rapid heartbeat. 

He couldn’t bear it when his kid cried. It physically hurt. And knowing he’d caused it…

“Petey, you’re going to hyperventilate, please, don’t cry. Please, baby, it’s okay. I got you. It’s okay,” Tony pleaded. He rubbed circles on Peter’s back, taking exaggerated breaths for Peter to follow. Tears were welling up in his own eyes. 

Peter was, in fact, struggling to breathe. Tony desperately tried to comfort him, kissing his button nose, holding him tight, rubbing his back. 

Instinctively, he began humming, rocking Peter like a baby, stroking his cheek. 

Slowly, Peter’s sobs dissolved into whimpers and strangled versions of “Mr. Stark” and “Dad.”

Tony could feel each knob of Peter’s ribs, how he trembled violently, how cold he felt. He tried not to think of how much pain Peter had been in without eating.

“We need to get you some ice cream, sweetheart,” he choked out. “Maybe cookies?”

Peter buried his face further into Tony’s chest. He could hear him sniff, nodding. 

“Mr. Stark? I missed you,” Peter whispered. 

“I missed you too, baby, I missed you so much. I will never, never leave you again. Ever.”

~~~~~ Tag List: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @roxanac34 @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @hold-our-destiny@spiderman-lover @jami161 @scwene-qween

If anyone wants to be added/ removed let me know!

~~~~~

/DO NOT TAG OR REBLOG AS ST*RKER/

[brelione]

The Goddess Part Two (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Part Three  Part One

The next time he saw you was at the petting zoo.He knew you’d be there but for some reason he was still shocked to see you.You hadnt seen him yet,though.It was before opening hours.He was hiding in the lower branches of a tree,watching as you sung to the goats.He couldnt even understand the words you were saying,just the sound of your voice as it hit unbelievably high notes.It was enough to make his heart thump,his chest to tighten and him to almost fall off of the tree branch he had been clinging too.Suddenly you were all that mattered to him.Nothing else existed.Just you.His eyes were almost like cameras,zooming in on you.You were wearing a white sundress that somehow hadnt gotten any dirt or goat poop on it.Your hair was messy and curly from the salt water you swam in all the time,your shiny jewelry glistening in the sunlight.You snapped your fingers,one of the smaller goats had literally jumped on you.

You giggled,holding a flower out to it.The goat got back down and they ran around their hay covered fenced in area.Your house was a good distance away from the area but it was still within his line of vision.Your family was absolutely rich but you werent kooks.You guys willingly chose to live in a shitty house.It looked shitty from the outside but JJ had never been inside.Your father had payed JJ large amounts of money to mow your lawn every tuesday.It didnt need to be mowed.You could just have the goats eat up the excess grass,or the chickens,or the cows.But little did JJ know that you were behind his weekly job.You knew that JJ didnt have a lot of money and shifted between John.B’s house and his own house,spending some nights at the beach.

You wanted JJ to have a good amount of money for anything he might need.Whether it be gas,a coffee,a new shirt,going to the laundromat.You just liked the idea of him being safe and happy all the time.Thats when he had seen you wearing that lovely sweater.You had come out of your house,placing a small jar of home made jam,a paper bag and an energy drink out on your deck before going back inside.JJ had been watching you out of the corner of his eye,blushing a bit when he realized that you were leaving him a breakfast.You left the fenced in area,the goats trying to follow you out. “Oh,dont act like you dont get all the attention in the world!”You had said quietly to them as they stared up at you.

JJ didnt even wonder how he had heard it from where he was.You were walking towards the tree with a light blue bag.JJ cursed,trying to move higher up in the tree.He hadnt even noticed that he was in the branches above the cows.There were six cows total,two of which were extremely fluffy.When you got to the fence only a few feet away from him you looked over at the tree. “Hey.”You nodded before opening the light blue bag.His eyebrows furrowed,stunned by how casual you were being. “Hi.”He replied,his voice sounding hoarse.He mentally slapped himself,clearing his throat quietly. “You know we dont let anyone pet the goats or hold the chickens until 10.What’s up?”You asked,taking fistfulls of food out of the light blue bag as cows approached you.He rolled his eyes so far back in his head he should’ve been able to see his brain,resting his head against the tree bark.Why did you have to be like this?He actually wanted to talk to you,to have a conversation and make you giggle. 

“I mow your lawn on Tuesday’s,princess.”He reminded you.You raised your eyebrows as you pet one of the cows. “J,its monday.”You huffed as you let another cow eat oats straight out of your hand.He scoffed. “It is not-”He paused to take out his phone,checking the day. “Shit.”He groaned.You smiled. “Its fine,JJ.Have you eaten today?”You asked.He grumbled something. “What?”You asked.He sighed. “I said,why do you care?”He asked.You shrugged,tossing out more oats. “Breakfast is really important for you guys.”You replied,eyes going wide when you realized what you said.He squinted. “What?You mean poor people?”He asked,aggravated.You shook your head. “No,JJ.Thats not what I mean at all.You’re a growing boy,you need to eat.”You explained yourself.He hopped down from the tree,towering over you.

You stared up at him.He stared at you with admiration.Your eyes were slightly puffy from just waking up,the whites of your eyes slightly pink.You smelled like peaches,cookie dough and ocean.It was a strange concoction but somehow it was pleasant.You were wearing cute socks that had winnie the pooh on them.You werent wearing shoes though,just the socks and the dress. “So um...I have to collect the chicken eggs.Do you want breakfast or a coffee or something?”You asked,playing with your bracelets.As much as he hated you-or at least as he pretended to hate you he was really hungry.He wasnt hungry.He just wanted to be around you.He shrugged. “Okay,but that doesnt make us friends.”he pointed at you.You nodded,biting back a smile. “Wouldnt dream of it.”You replied.He followed you to the chicken coop. “Morning ladies!”You exclaimed as you opened the nesting boxes,placing the eggs in an egg carton. “Um….Im sorry JJ,but could you please hold this?”You asked,gesturing toward the egg carton.

He held out his hands and you thanked him quietly,handing him the egg carton.Perhaps if he really hated you as much as he said he did he would drop the eggs on purpose.But he didnt.You apologized a few times for the long walk to the house from the chicken coop.You struggled to open the door,kicking it open.He just followed you to the kitchen.Your house was….it was just kind of beautifully chaotic.Murals across the walls,mermaids,a sunset with beautiful blue waves.Your kitchen had white tiles on the floor,marble counter tops and a white fridge.The table had a white tablecloth that was covered with flower print.You placed the two egg cartons you had been carrying down.You jumped a bit when you moved your elbow,feeling JJ right behind you. “Sorry.”You mumbled,moving out of the way.He grinned at how nervous he was making you right now.Usually it was the other way around.Your kitchen smelled like bread and strawberries.His nose was correct.

He spotted jars of strawberry jam and saw a loaf of bread wrapped in parchment paper. “What do you want for breakfast?”You asked him.He glanced at the bread and jam on the countertops.You turned,getting the message.You told him to sit down at the table and he couldnt help but feel a bit uneasy.He’d never been inside your house before.He looked outside your kitchen window to see your garden.Your garden was kind of famous.Lemon and peach trees,berry bushes,flowers,herbs,garlic and potatoes.People from figure 8 would call your father when they were in need of bread,biscuits,muffins,cakes,jellys,jams,eggs.

Basically anything.A good amount of families had hosted birthdays at your house and you’d help your father bake the cakes,usually making spaghetti or mac and cheese for the children.And now JJ was sitting at your kitchen table about to dine like a king free of charge.He took this chance to ask you some questions about yourself,knowing youd probably answer honestly without thinking about it because you were currently busy. “So like...whats the deal with your mom?”He asked.You shrugged your shoulders as you spread jam across a slice of bread. “She dropped me off at the door then disappeared.”You replied.Youd been over the story dozens of times,no emotions even ties to the story at this point.He nodded. “That sucks.”You giggled quietly at the statement.You really didnt care.She made her choice and your father made his. 

“So what do you do all day in this house?You never go anywhere.You got a lot of boyfriends that come around?”He asked.You sighed as you cut up an apple.You smiled to yourself.That was the stupidest thing youd ever heard. “I go places.”You retaliated.He scoffed. “Where?Where have you gone?”He asked.You blushed from the realization. “I go to the beach.”You replied,looking over your shoulder. “You need to get out more.Half the people on this island dont even know you exist.”He watched how your body moved as you arranged the apples into a flower. “Okay.”Was all you had do say before you placed the plate down in front of him. “You want some coffee?”you asked.He shook his head. 

“Sit down.”He suggested.He was telling you what to do in your own house.That was probably the strangest thing that had happened for you that week.You sat across from him,tapping on the wooden table. “thanks,(Y/N).”He mumbled quietly.You just nodded.He stared down at his plate,not touching the food. “You’re not gonna eat anything?”He asked.You shook your head. “Not up for it,I already had a coffee today.”You replied.He nodded. “You werent freaked out over the fact I was in one of your trees...why?”He asked.You just shrugged. “A lot of weird stuff happens in my life,believe it or not.”You replied,watching him pull apart his bread and stuff it in him mouth. “So...um….are you gonna leave when youre done with breakfast?”You asked.He grinned. “Wow,trying to get rid of me already?”He asked.You huffed. “Its not like that!Im just trying to figure out what my plan is for the day.”You explained yourself.He nodded.

 “Its not like you’ve got any big plans.I think im gonna stay around here just to spite you.”He smiled.You nodded. “Okay.”You replied.He ran his hand through his hair. “Im kidding.”He replied.You nodded. “Right.I mean I guess you could stay here if you want.”You offered.He chewed his bottom lip. “What if you come with me to the beach and surf for a while?Ive heard you’re okayish as surfing.”He smirked.You scratched your collarbone. “Uh...okay.Okay.”You mumbled awkwardly.You couldnt believe you had just agreed to hang out with JJ Maybank of all people.He hated you.You just had to hope that he wouldnt murder you or something.His eyes widened. “Yeah?You’re gonna come over to the dark side with me?”He asked,smile widening.You grinned. “Dont make me regret it.”You mumbled,getting up from the table.He heard you go up the stairs and he let out a loud sigh.He really just did that.

He wiped his palms of his shorts,blinking hard.He was gonna spend the day with you.He couldnt mess this up.That being said you already thought he hated you and he was kind of a bitch to you but now you would get to actually hang out with him.This was his chance to become your friend.He ate the rest of his breakfast as quickly as he could,placing the plate in the sink.He heard you come back down stairs.He turned to send you a teasin remark but his jaw fell,eyes going wide when he saw what you were wearing.That sweater.You had changed out of the dress,now wearing black shorts,flip flops and that sweater that looked unbelievably amazing on you. “Uh-youre ready to go?”He asked.You nodded.The two of you walked out and you stopped to grab your surfboard. “I know a good surf spot.”He told you.You nodded.He took you down some old dirt roads and a small path through the woods.WHen you came out of the woods you were on pale hot sand,shells and small smooth rocks sprinkling across the land. “The waves are kinda small but theyll get bigger.”He said,sitting down. “Thats what she said.”You grinned to yourself.

@xlittlemissydjx​ @lasnaro​

[wrathofthewind]

iv. Child

A bowl of hot soup hadn’t been the trick. Once Arnalt had taken that young boy to his palace from the Jungles of Tahr, it required several bowls, more than a few butchered pigs and quite the large amount of bags of rice. The boy was insatiable. It wasn’t a normal appetite either, any stomach would’ve given out. It shouldn’t have been so alarming, but with rumours of his status as a Kurian child, the state in which he arrived, the hunger with which he ate— in an unrefined matter no less, it didn’t take long for the kitchen staff to stop sending out dishes.

“More.” Arnalt demanded, his chilly gaze sweeping over the service.

“Sire… we, we’re not able to continue.”

“What, did we run out of chickens? Is the State in my name so devoid of birds?”

The servant daren’t speak, but they had already crossed a line. Any other household would have them released. That’s probably what they wanted.

“Here then,” Arnalt tossed his bow and signaled with his chin towards the bag of arrows in the corner of the room. “Go hunt something then. Pallax!”

Pallax came walking swiftly.

“Can it be we really ran out of chickens?”

“Sire, they…”

He waited for the servant to clear the room. Nervous glances thrown sideways at both him and Tyssen.

“They don’t want to keep… feeding a Kurian.”

Arnalt pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly rubbed it, eyes closed.

The boy started coughing behind them. Arnalt approached him and slapped his back, making him spit a bone.

“No wonder you’re choking. Slow down!”

Pallax grimaced.

Nobody wanted to touch the Kurian, or look at the Kurian, or acknowledge it was there anymore. But Pallax was a loyal vassal, and willingly stepped in to try and place a fork and knife or other cutlery on the child’s hand.

Arnalt smiled at him brightly. “Thank you.”

It disturbed Pallax momentarily, who nearly dropped the fork. But just as quickly, Arnalt was once again stern-faced and pacing the room. He then sat in front of the child on the table.

“You.”

The boy didn’t pay attention, so he snapped his fingers in front of his face to draw his eyes. “Yes, you. What’s your name?”

“Mar… Marius.” He tried to speak between mouthfuls. “Marius Ihnat di Aedan.”

“So you do speak.” And had a strong name actually. Arnalt had already assumed the boy probably came from a wealthy merchant family, with the quality of his tattered clothes and the few jeweled accessories they found in his pockets. It seemed he might be of one with rank and title too.  

“What about your age? You look about 7? 8? Do you know how to count?” Arnalt raised his palm up to try and signal the numbers with his fingers.

“12.” He chewed the remaining bits of rice and potatoes in his mouth and swallowed briskly, immediately reaching for another bowl of soup and drinking it down, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down with large gulps.

Arnalt and Pallax both blinked, looked at each other, then back at Marius.

“That’s… then why do you look so…” Pallax said.

Arnalt lifted a hand to stop him. “Nevermind, so you’ve been quite hungry haven’t you?”

Marius nodded and finally seemed to be done with the food he could safely consume. He burped generously and quickly covered his mouth.

Arnalt snorted, while Pallax looked offended beyond belief. “Such lack of manners in front of his Highness, how dare—“

“It’s alright, he doesn’t understand what I am.”

“You’re the prince.” Marius said simply, his eyes suddenly wide and honest. “You’re the seventeenth prince, his royal highness Arnalt Azuria. The Eagle.”

He sounded like a pamphlet. Arnalt was mildly shocked. “Right.”

“…”

“Where are you from?”

“…”

“How did you end up in the Jungles?”

“…”

And the most difficult question. “Where are your parents.”

“They’re gone.” Marius looked down, fixating on his lap.

“I see.” Arnalt didn’t know what else to say.

“I know what they say. I know I’m cursed. Is it true this is my last meal?”

A lightbulb suddenly popped in Arnalt’s head. He started laughing heartily, slamming his fist on the table and shaking all over with his head lowered. “Is this why you’ve eaten all my chickens? Hahaha!”

Pallax was mortified.

Marius’s eyes watered.

“You silly child. I was just confirmed and crowned into the Azurian pantheon thanks to that Vegna Spyralia you carried in your fist.” Arnalt felt his face grow a little hot suddenly, having called him a child wasn’t quite right, considering he was only 4 years younger, but his body looked so young he couldn’t help himself. He wondered how long he’d been malnourished in those Jungles. It must’ve been several years. How did he learn to speak so eloquently? Why did he know his name, rank and title? How was he informed of the goings on of the world? Did he sneak out of Tahr? He might’ve unknowingly contaminated others so Arnalt made a mental note to order a full territory sweep. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, I’ve granted you my Mercy. You will not die under my watch, you hear me?”

The boy’s wet eyes blossomed, his arm immediately coming up to wipe at his suddenly wet cheeks.

Arnalt thought it was both a silly and happy occasion, so he kept laughing to Pallax’s horror. “Now, now, no need to cry. You’re safe.”

“I see.” Marius said, his voice trembling. “In that case…” he sniffed and composed himself, straightening his shoulders. “Use me as you will. I pledge myself to your house.” Marius lowered his head solemnly. It was a bit amusing coming from someone so young, who looked so much younger than his age.

Arnalt smiled, his chin resting leisurely on the back of his hand. “As you wish.”

***

With the battle aganist Ithana squared away and scheduled, and a few other council duties and reprimands already brought over to his desk, Arnalt wrapped up the final tasks of the day and went back to the kitchen quarters. 

He entered Marius’s chambers like a sudden gust, a heavy bag strapped on his back.

Marius instantly moved to stand from the bed where he’d been resting from his relentless training, no doubt ready to assist with the bag, but Arnalt had already sat down in front of him, and Marius remained with his torso raised but the rest of him firmly laying on the bed. He awkwardly tried shifting so that he could at least move into a more formal sitting position, even if the coarse robes he wore could never lend an air of formality to the situation, at the very least his posture could contribute. Next to him was a bowl of hot soup made with chicken stock, boiled chicken strips, corn and sliced potatoes, prepared exactly as they’d been years ago when he was still a child.

Arnalt had gone to the kitchen to order it and asked the staff to keep it coming throughout the night. Naturally he wouldn’t deliver something like that himself, and he didn’t want to make it so important that Marius would suddenly inquire about it.

A servant came in with another bowl and this time Arnalt waved a hand. “Alright that’s the final one, you’re dismissed and no need to send more until the morning.”

The servant quietly placed the bowl on the small wooden table next to Marius’s bed and just as quietly shuffled out of the room--their steps eagerly faster as they were allowed to leave.

Arnalt kept staring with an icy glare which to others would’ve seemed combative but to Marius merely showed Arnalt was deep in thought. It was still a little nerve-wracking, his whole countenance was already so cool and refined, like a porcelain doll with marble grey eyes. At times it felt like staring into a storm, and others like speaking to a stone. The eerie silence begged to be broken.  

“So, now can I say this is my last meal?” Marius said.

Arnalt was surprised by the sheer cheek of that remark. “Your humor is astounding.” And also how perceptive! Just like that, the porcelain glimmered back to life and a bit of peachy softness rose up, as if Arnalt was ashamed to have found that particular joke charming. 

“My impulse is to punish you, everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done, it’s all led to this. This is your fault. You need to bear responsibility. I did my best to warn you and you still won’t listen. And don’t say your duty is to protect me.” Arnalt pre-emptively raised his hand to pause Marius’s reply. “Your duty, first and foremost is to serve, and to listen. I expect my orders followed. Now with everything coming up, this time you will follow instructions precisely or so help me Aegerian gods I will deliver you to the Glaes Winterlands myself.”

Marius glanced at Arnalt’s fist. It was clenched unconsciously. Arnalt quickly released it. 

“Tomorrow, I’ll duel Ithana to secure a vote in your favor in the High Council.”

“As if a vote would matter much...” Marius muttered.

“Of course a vote matters for shit.” Arnalt exclaimed. “I’ll just act as a distraction.”

“My Lord-- why would... that’s not--” Marius looked deeply uncomfortable and ready to jump in and make some bold statement, but Arnalt cut in before he could even start.

“And you, so-called hellhound of Kur,” Arnalt threw the bag he’d been carrying on his back on the ground, a weight off his shoulders that was so visible his body practically lifted once he’d let that bag go, “you’ll run away.”

Marius paled. 

“This is where we say our goodbyes. May you have a good life.”

He couldn’t understand why Marius looked so shocked, or why his fists clenched. 

True, his life might be difficult outside of the palace of the 17th Prince, but he could manage at least a few weeks on his own before anyone recognized his identity. There were ways to hide the marks that made him a Kurian. Either way, the boy had been extensively trained and should if anything find some manual labor in a small village somewhere. 

They both heard a few hard steps and then the door slid, Tyssen had entered and bowed quickly. “Your highness, I’ve arranged everything.”

“Tyssen will brief you on your escape route.” Arnalt stood up.

Marius quickly rose to his feet. “My Lord, wait I—!”

“Make sure he memorizes that map tonight and have him equipped by dawn. I’ll try to keep the battle going until noon.”

Even Tyssen’s eyes widened, but he knew better than to contradict. He bowed once more. “Yes, your Highness, and-- Calm down you!” He pushed Marius back and locked the door as Arnalt left.

Arnalt heard Marius yelling behind him. “My Lord please reconsider. This is impossible! My Lord listen—!”

But Arnalt quickly walked away to avoid changing his mind. This was as much as he could do, battle Ithana until his body gave out, at least by then Marius would have escaped, and he would’ve kept his word.

Marius would absolutely not die under his watch. And he’d already made as much use of Marius’s oath as he could. The boy had downright become a liability anyway. 

Even if the idea of remaining in the arena, standing, for seven hours straight against Ithana… was probably exactly as Marius had said: impossible.

Well fuck impossible.

Arnalt unconsciously gripped his Aerial ring between two fingers and turned it nervously. After a while, he’d already let go. 

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

Chapter 4

Warnings: Brief smut, mentions of needles. 18+ only y’all!

Word Count: 3.9k Join my taglist here Tagging: @mcu-padawan​ Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 I used the song “Bad Girl” by Avril Lavigne for V’s song of choice!

Sunlight streamed into my room, the brightness making me groan in disgust and pain, rolling over to bury my face in my pillows, cursing tiredly into the soft, cushy material. The beeping of my comm from across the room drew another curse from my lips and I sat up, my hair falling into my face, and I practically crawled out of bed to get the damn thing.

“Hello?” I croaked, throat scratchy and dry.

“Oh, you’re alive. I thought you might have died in an alley somewhere considering you never showed up last night.”

Oh shit. I had forgotten that I was supposed to go to the Crypt last night after drinks with the gang. I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly, wincing at the annoyance in Grave’s voice.

“Sorry, I lost track of time last night. I don’t even remember getting home.” I muttered, taking my comm with me to the ‘fresher so I could get some water and pee.

“You better be here tonight, Baby Doll. If you’re not, we’re gonna have problems.” Grave growled before disconnecting the transmission. I was too hungover for this shit and just wanted to crawl back into bed, feeling like death, when I caught something written on my arm. It was Crosshairs’ private comm channel and I felt my cheeks warm up again as I looked it over with a slight smile. I needed to write it down on paper so I could shower and try to feel less… death like.

“Astrid, you up?” Koyi croaked, shuffling into the room, bleary eyed and still in her bodycon dress from last night.

“Morning.” I yawned and took a drink of nice, cold water, passing the cup over to her.

“Who dared call this early? Your comm woke me up from my place on the floor by your couch.” She groaned, going for my shower.

“Take a wild guess.” I grumbled, taking a seat on the nice, cool floor of my refresher. Koyi groaned angrily at the mention of Grave, pulling a face. “I was supposed to be at the Crypt last night and I got so caught up with Crosshair that I lost track of time. And, uh, apparently how we got home because I don’t remember that shit at all. But yeah, he’s mad that I didn’t show last night and said I better be there tonight.” I grumbled while laying down on the floor, pressing my cheek to the cold marble.

“Ugh I hate Grave so much.” Koyi groaned from my shower, the sound of the water hitting the shower door enough to make my head throb.

“Right now? So do I. And I hate the shower, the water hurts my head.” I closed my eyes, wishing my head would quit pounding.

“You’re a medic, don’t you have some banana bags on hand?”

I shot up far too quickly at her words: she was right, I actually did keep a stash of IV supplies here just in case of stuff like this. I just had to find the will and motivation to get up and actually get them. I felt like a dumbass for not remembering that sooner, that would be the perfect pick me up for this nightmarish hangover. With a moan of discomfort, I pushed myself up to my feet and trudged off to go get them, waiting for Koyi to hurry up and get out of the shower so I could hook her up.

Twenty minutes later, we were dressed and headed to this little pizza joint near Koyi’s tattoo parlor, dying for a good slice of pizza to help chase away the last dregs of this hangover that the banana bag didn’t touch. My stomach was growling loudly at the thought of getting something good to eat, making Koyi start laughing as we walked in through the doors.

“Oops. My bad. Guess I’m more hungry than I thought I was.” I laughed as well, wincing a little, mortified by just how loud it was. We snagged an open table in the back corner, our usual waiter already putting in our order for us.

“So are you gonna comm that cute guy you were with last night?” Koyi plucked a breadstick from the basket and took a bite.

“Crosshair? I dunno… I’m in a relationship. I shouldn’t have even flirted or danced with him last night.” I grabbed a breadstick as well, but pulled at it instead, chewing on my lip.

“He was really into you! I’m telling you, you need to break up with Grave and give this guy a shot! He’d treat you a lot better than Grave does.” Koyi pointed out smugly and took a sip of her drink.

“Oh please, he was just hoping for an easy hookup. Look, I know how you feel about Grave, and I’m sorry you guys don’t like each other, but that’s who I’m dating. End of story.” I snapped, finally growing tired of her nagging at me about Grave.

“Okay. Sorry. I won’t bring it up again.” Koyi gave me a wounded look, frowning deeply at my harshness.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“Whatever, you’re right. You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do, and you’re gonna date whoever you’re gonna date,” She got up and went over to Stetson, asking for her food to be brought over to her parlor. “I’ll see you later, Valkyrie. Let me know when you’ve pulled your head out of your ass.” She walked out in a huff and I sighed. She was really mad if she was calling me Valkyrie instead of Astrid.

“Everything okay with you and Koyi? I never see you guys fight, like ever.” Stetson asked, setting my order down and dropped into the empty seat across from me.

“Yeah, I guess.” I looked down at the pizza, not hungry anymore.

“Is it about Grave again? Cuz that’s the only time I see you guys ever get tense with each other.” He leaned forward, brows knit together slightly, worry on his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. I know she’s concerned, I’m not trying to downplay that, it just gets old hearing it all the time when I’m home on leave. When I’m home, I don’t want to get a talking to about who I’m dating. I hear it from Ivar, who thinks Grave and I aren’t even together anymore and is constantly trying to set me up with guys, and Koyi, who makes jabs and other comments.” I forced myself to eat something so I wasn’t overly grumpy later when I went to the Crypt to see Grave. Stetson squeezed my shoulder kindly before getting up to run over Koyi’s order to her, leaving me in the main part of the parlor with my thoughts. Koyi was right, Grave wasn’t exactly boyfriend material; he never reciprocated when I told him I loved him, he would always change the subject or distract me with other things. And I swore he had something going on with the new girl, Candy, but I didn’t have any definitive proof and I trusted him, so maybe it was just me being jealous.

Ugh I should just… end things. Get it over with already. I sighed heavily, setting the half eaten slice of pizza down on my plate. This was just ridiculous, what was I doing with my life? Leading two different lives was utterly exhausting and I wasn’t sure I could keep up with it anymore, I was going to have to pick eventually and as much as I loved dancing, I would pick my boys in the 501st any day over being a dancer. I’d come to really love these guys dearly already and had been accepted into their little family.

I let out a soft grunt of annoyance when my comm lit up and hit the flashing button to answer it, trying not to sound annoyed when Fives and Hardcase’s voices immediately launched into talking about something about karaoke night.

“Okay, hold on, one at a time, I don’t speak gibberish.” I finally barked, gritting my teeth when a couple of the other customers shot me an irate look.

“It’s karaoke night at the 79’s tonight! Are you coming?” That was Hardcase speaking up.

“No? I have plans that I missed last night cuz I was too busy drinking with you lunatics. Besides, you know I don’t sing.” I lied through my teeth about the singing. I could sing like no one could believe but I got stage fright when it came down to it. Singing in front of people was one of my biggest nightmares.

“Oh come on Valks! Come join us!” Fives pleaded and I could just picture him pouting.

“Not tonight, okay? I’ve gotta roll. I’ll see you guys later.” I disconnected the comm and got up so I could head out to the Crypt. “Later Stets! Left your tip on the table.”

                                                           ~*~*~

  The Crypt was supposed to be like home, but walking in those doors, I sure didn’t feel like I was coming home. I felt as if I were walking into a tomb, the dark and dreary feeling weighing on my shoulders. Something wasn’t right, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. Some of the other girls were sitting at the bar, pity flashing across their faces for a brief moment before looking away from me, focusing their attention anywhere else but on me as I walked past them. I could feel my stomach clench with nerves, my palms sweating as I slowly made my way to the room Grave and I would share while I was here on leave. Soft moans and the wet slap of skin on skin left me feeling ill as I reached out with a trembling hand to open the door, seeing Grave fucking the new girl. I didn’t make a sound, just shut the door and went to the dressing room, throwing my crap into a bag.

“Baby Doll?”

I didn’t even have to look back to know Daisy was hovering nearby, her face drawn and worried like it usually was when she was uneasy. “I’m fine Daisy. I already had a feeling something was going on, I was just trying to deny it. Good luck. I fucking quit.” I zipped my bag up and hitched it over my shoulder. My gut feeling was right, Koyi was right, Stetson and Ivar were right... and I was a fuckin’ dumb ass. “And you can tell that wastoid that I’m done.” I called to the other girls who were trying to act like they weren’t listening in over at the bar and walked out. I couldn’t fucking believe that I had gotten played like this. I mean, I could believe it, but at the same time, I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it. Tears burned in my eyes as I hopped into my speeder and headed back to my apartment to dump off this crap and so I could get ready for karaoke night after all.

“Koyi? You were right. I’m sorry. I caught him fucking the new girl, so I quit. I’m going home to change and then I’m heading to the 79’s for karaoke night cuz why the fuck not?” I breezed through my front door, locking it behind me and threw my bag of clothes from the Crypt across my living room, nailing the wall with a dull thud. He wanted to break my heart, then I was going to dress up and go have some fun tonight because I fucking earned it after putting up with so much these past few years.

Stupid son of a bitch. I hope his cock shrivels up and falls off. I stood there in my closet, staring hard at all of my clothes, trying to decide on an outfit. I wanted something easy to move in but still showed off every single curve I had. If Grave decided to show his face tonight, I was going to make sure he regretted ever using me and discarding me like trash. Now I just had to find the right outfit. Nothing was catching my eye so far, though. A flash of red drew my attention towards it and I smiled when I plucked the cute bright red mini dress off the rack and settled on that and a pair of strappy red heels to match. I grinned happily and quickly did my hair, giving myself some loose curls and studied myself closely. Everything looked perfect and I couldn’t wait to show off.

Perfect, I think I’m ready. I grabbed my leather jacket and took off, wanting to surprise Fives and the others since I’d said I had plans. Eyes followed me as I walked out of my apartment building and flagged a speeder down so I could get to the 79’s, smiling sweetly at the driver.

“Thanks for the lift doll.” I purred when we arrived, tipping him and blowing him a kiss.

“Damn, you’re not playing around tonight, huh?” Koyi was grinning widely as she practically skipped up to me.

“Nope, I’m definitely not playing around. I’m gonna have fun and I might even bring someone home with me tonight.” I chirped, smiling at some of the clones we passed, all of them whistling in appreciation. Koyi and I broke out into giggles as we entered the bar, weaving through clones and other civvies to get to the bar for drinks.

“Hey! Could we get four shots of Trandoshan tequila? Thanks!” I took the shots and passed two of them over to Koyi, toasting my best friend before downing them in rapid succession. “I think I’m gonna sign up to do karaoke tonight.” I glanced over at Koyi, reaching for the stylus so I could jot my name down, Koyi squealing with delight.

“You’re going to actually sing? You? In public! Oh I have to record this!” She was giddy at the thought and ordered us a couple more drinks so we could take them with us to find the 501st guys. Koyi spotted them first and tugged me with her as we weaved through the crowd, Fives and Echo immediately shutting up when they saw us.

“Holy -”

“Valkyrie?!” Jesse and Rex’s jaws dropped in shock, Cody smirking as he looked me up and down with interest. Two other clones I vaguely recognized nudged a couple other guys, nodding our way and I blew them a kiss, grinning.

“Hey guys. Plans fell through so I figured we’d join you.” I chirped, allowing Cody to pull me onto his lap, his arm warm around my waist. I draped an arm around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck with a playful smile tugging at my lips as he leaned back into my touch with a soft groan.

“And she’s gonna sing!” Koyi crowed, practically dancing in Echo’s lap. I rolled my eyes but smiled when the guys cheered excitedly. I’d always been teased for my humming when I worked, Kix always asking if they’d ever get to hear me actually sing, and tonight looked like it was gonna be the night.

“We’re allowed to record that, right? Cuz I am gonna wanna remember this night. Plus Kix is gonna be bummed he missed seeing it in person.” Fives joked with a loud laugh. As I opened my mouth to retort, my name was called to go up and sing my heart out. I slammed my drink back and got to my feet, my legs shaking as I made my way up there, hands trembling as I took hold of the mic. I swallowed thickly, forcing a smile onto my face as the music began and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

“Hey, hey I'll let you walk all over me, me. You know that I’m a little tease, tease, but I want it pretty please, please. You know, you know, you know I’m crazy. I just wanna be your baby. You can fuck me, you can play me. You can love me or you can hate me. Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me,” I began to really get into the song, swaying my hips and dancing along to the beat. “Choke me, 'cause I said so. Stroke me, and feed my ego. I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know? Come get it, now or never. I’ll let you do whatever. I’ll be your bad girl, here we go.  Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me.” I had all eyes on me, people dancing along and cheering, Fives and the others the loudest of all my admirer’s. I could feel my cheeks heating up at the applause and focused my gaze on Rex, who was watching with an intensity that had my stomach clenching with desire. He took a sip of his drink, smirking just slightly, and leaned over to say something to Cody, who nodded in response, his eyes never leaving me.

“Baby, you know I want a little taste, taste. So let me take you all the way, way. You know you’ll never be the same, same. One night, you won’t forget the rest of your life, so come on over to the wild side. Buckle up, and baby, hold on tight. Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me. We both know that you love me 'cause I'm so bad. Choke me, 'cause I said so. Stroke me, and feed my ego. I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know? Come get it, now or never. I’ll let you do whatever. I’ll be your bad girl, here we go.  Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me.” I was looking right at the two, putting on a show just for them. It was as if everyone else had faded from the room, I was so focused on Rex and Cody. “I've been a bad girl. I've been a bad girl. I'll be your bad girl. I'll be your bad girl. I've been a bad girl. I've been a bad girl. I'll be your bad girl. A fucking bad girl! Choke me, 'cause I said so. Stroke me, and feed my ego. I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know? Come get it, now or never. I’ll let you do whatever. I’ll be your bad girl, here we go.”  The sound of applause brought me back into focus, realizing I’d finished the song. I quickly walked out of there, my heart pounding against my chest with adrenaline and glee.

“Hey! You killed it up there!” Koyi found me and dragged me back over to the group. “I recorded it. Sorry not sorry, you are amazing and should be heard by the world.”

“Of course you did. Could you not share it, please?” I grumbled, shooting her a look.

“Too late, she’s already sent it to us.” Fives cut in with a smug grin. “I’m gonna listen to this all the time. Seriously, how could you hide those pipes from the rest of us?”

“It’s not that big of a deal. Drop it already.” I groused, tossing a crumpled up napkin at him. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” With a muttered curse, I went to go to the bar when Rex dropped a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll go with you. I could use a new drink myself.” He chimed in, moving his hand to my lower back, gently pushing me through the crowd towards the bar. “You really do have a nice voice. It’d be nice to hear it more often.”

“Thank you, Captain. I, uh, usually don’t sing in front of other people. I get nervous and then clam up. Generally I have to have a little liquid courage in my veins first.” I chuckled, taking a seat at the bar. “You and Commander Cody seemed rather… invested in the song. Did I spark some interest?” I teased him, half hoping that maybe I had caught their attention. I could get behind the idea of a threesome with Rex and Cody, it would certainly be quite the ride.

“Baby Doll, there you are!”

My back stiffened up at the sound of Grave’s voice behind me, his hands going to my shoulders and I jerked away from him, getting up and stepping beside Rex, putting as much distance between us as I could.

“We’re done, Grave. I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’t want anything to do with you.” I snapped, yanking my arm back when he reached for it.

“You heard my medic, leave her alone.” Rex got to his feet, setting his whiskey glass down. “She doesn’t owe you shit and you have no business harassing her, so step off. Now.” There was a growl to his voice that sent a jolt of white hot fire down the length of my back and into the pit of my stomach, pulsing down between my thighs.

“This doesn’t involve you, clone. This is between me and her.” Grave spat, not even looking at Rex as he spoke. “Baby Doll, c’mon, come back with me. I need you, babe.” He was pleading now, begging me to come back to the Crypt.

“No. I have nothing to say to you. I’m done, I’ve been done. Fuck off, Grave.” I slapped his hand aside, lip curling into a sneer.

“You stupid slut, should have known those rumors were true.” He snarled with venom dripping from his words. Next thing I knew, Rex was slamming a fist right into Grave’s mouth, sending him stumbling back into Cody, who had come up to see what was taking us so long. Cody immediately had Grave by the scruff of his shirt and tossed him aside with a snarl, glaring daggers at Grave.

“Hey, whoa, no! He’s not worth it!” I quickly stepped in, resting a hand on Cody and Rex’s biceps, not wanting them to start any fights. “Come on, let’s just go back to the others.” I pulled my lip between my teeth, looking back and forth between the commander and my captain anxiously.

“Come near her again and I’ll break your jaw.” Rex warned him before grabbing his whiskey and my hand, leading us back to where the others were. Koyi and Echo were nowhere to be found while the others continued to crack jokes and drink, Hardcase getting up to go sing while Fives and Jesse laughed about his enthusiasm, cheering their brother on. Rex pulled me into his lap, arms wrapping around my waist, holding me to him somewhat tightly and pressed his lips to the nape of my neck in a fleeting kiss.

“Where’d Koyi go?” I called over to Fives with a slightly puzzled look.

“Her place with Echo.”

“Oh. Oh! Oh. Damn, get it girl.” I shook my head, laughing when I realized what he meant. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m gonna head home, too. It’s been a long night and I have some better alcohol at home I want to get into. See you guys around.” I carefully detached myself from Rex’s lap, shooting him a smile. “Hey, no bar fights okay? Just leave Grave alone if you see him hanging around.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Cody offered quickly, getting to his feet with a nod to his guys. “I’d feel better knowing you got home safely just in case.”

“That’s sweet of you, thank you Commander.” I took his offered arm and bid farewell to everyone else.

“I’ll tag along. It’s on the way to the barracks and I’ve got some paperwork I should finish up.” Rex polished off his drink and fell in step with Cody and I, the two of them keeping an eye out for Grave as we left the bar.

[icarriedamango]

what’s left for us (iv)

[ao3] [iii]

Alex has stopped asking if Kara is okay. Mostly because Kara has gotten really good at pretending that she is. Like now, at J'onn's birthday dinner, or at least what Kara and Alex have decided is his birthday because Kara likes having as many reasons to eat cake as possible. She's eaten three slices already, just to keep up appearances, even though her appetite has been intermittent at best, lately.

They’re at Alex’s apartment for a change, and everyone is having fun. Nia, Brainy, Kelly... Kara likes Kelly. She's kind, easy to be around, and knows how special Alex is.

She's not like Maggie, who was a seismic shift in their lives. Kara thought Alex just didn't like women, which was a truth she happily swallowed until Maggie turned it to ash right in her throat.

Alex liked women. Alex just didn't like Kara. Not like that. Not how Kara wanted to be liked. Kara hadn't known it was wrong to want that until it was too late. Hadn't known that on earth, sisters didn't have to share blood or that one kiss would ruin the rest of her life.

She hadn't been on earth for long, but she'd known that Alex was pretty, Alex was hers, and it felt good when Alex hugged her and held her hand. It felt different than when anyone else did it. She didn't know what to do with that knowledge until she saw Daisy Dirkum and Brian Richards kissing in the hallway at school. It wasn't that kissing didn't exist on Krypton, it's just that it was almost never done in front of others, especially by those born into the great houses.

So Kara did what she always did when she didn't understand something. She asked Alex to explain it. Then she asked Alex to show her. Kara's first kiss was soft, sweet, innocent — and Alex took a piece of Kara with her when she pulled away. Which was fine because Kara didn't want it back. Alex was just as devoted to her, as she was to Alex. That's what mattered even though Alex would never kiss her again.

For a long time, Alex didn't really kiss anyone. Then Maggie happened. Maggie with her soft hair and huge dimples, sweet smile and willingness to run headlong into danger. Maggie who made Alex cry, then made Alex beg, and in the end, refused to be what Alex needed.

It made Kara angry. So angry. But Kara doesn’t get to be that, so she buries it, always. People get hurt when she doesn't.

"Hey," Alex sits next to her on the couch. "You're kind of quiet over here."

Kara smiles because those have been getting easier to fake too. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"What's the most embarrassing thing I can organize for your birthday."

Alex laughs. "You'll have to find me, first. Kelly has been making super-secret plans to whisk me away somewhere special. She's really bad at spy stuff, though, so I'm just pretending I don't know."

"That's nice."

Alex looks at her strangely. Unlike Kelly, she's very good at spy stuff. "Is it?"

"Yeah, of course!" Kara pushes her glasses up on her nose. “And it's cute that you think I wouldn't be able to find you."

Alex laughs and tells her about Kelly’s plans, but Kara stops listening halfway through. There's a sudden pull in her gut, one that's begging her to place her attention elsewhere.

This is 642, I need a 10-18 to Arliss and 4th. I'm inside. Multiple hostages.

"I have to go."

Kara flies out of the party without another word and lands in front of an abandoned warehouse as police set up a perimeter and SWAT arrives.

"We've got this under control, Supergirl." A cop, who is obviously in charge, walks up to Kara.

"What's going on?"

"Like I said, we've got it under control."

"You can tell me, or I can find out for myself."

The cop is resistant, but Kara is unmovable.

"One of my detectives was following up on a lead about a new alien drug being manufactured here. Turns out she was right."

Kara doesn't have to ask if it's Maggie. She knows it is. "Why are you all out here and she's still inside?" Her anger is building. Ever since the Red K, even though it's been out of her system for two weeks now, it's been so quick to rise and so difficult to control. She knows what will calm it, but that's not an option.

"Drugs weren't enough for these assholes." The cop mimics Kara's stance, hands on hips. "They wanted to add human trafficking too. They've been forcing alien teens to make the drugs, the ones who don’t have anybody to look after them. We can't just run in there without a plan. So that's what we're doing. Making a plan. We don't need you for that." She walks away before Kara can respond.

Kara has a complicated relationship with NCPD. One she hadn’t even known was complicated until Maggie brought it to her attention years ago. Before then, she hadn't really thought of what happens after she saves the day, or what the people without superpowers are left to clean up in her wake. She's tried to be more mindful since then, but it's never been quite enough.

Kara takes off and flies above the building, circling it a few times. There are thirty-two people inside, one of whom is Maggie. Because Maggie is reckless. Because Maggie walked into an unknown building, with an unidentified number of threats, and no way to know if she was equipped to handle them. It's who Maggie is. Kara understands that. And Maggie would hate Kara swooping in to save the day. That's not who they are to each other and Kara understands that too, respects it even because she’s respected so little else.

Restraint isn't easy, though. Kara flies around and around, just above the building, as the police take their time figuring out what to do. Her anger rises. It burns her fingertips, and her eyes, searching for a place to land.

When the police finally make their move, Kara is at a boiling point. When the hostages are free and Maggie walks out of the building like none of it was that big of a deal in the first place, Kara is furious. She drops down like thunder in the middle of Maggie's conversation with the cop who told her she wasn't needed.

"Are you hurt?"

Maggie's shock at Kara's sudden appearance would be visible from miles away. "Are you hurt?" Kara repeats.

"I'm fine, Supergirl." Maggie immediately turns back to her conversation.

It's so dismissive, it’s the final crack in Kara's control. She grabs Maggie and flies off. Maggie is silent the entire way to Kara's apartment like she knew this was coming. She stands there, in the middle of Kara's living room, like she expected nothing better.

"You can't just do that!" Kara explodes.

"You don't get to tell me that,” Maggie says hotly. “Whatever this is, it's done, okay? It's fucked up and it's over."

"It's over?" Kara advances.

Maggie stands her ground, defiant in the face of Kara's anger.

Kara grabs the back of Maggie's neck. She feels the bandage covering her mark, rips it off, and covers the mark with her palm. Maggie's breath leaves her. "How many times have you touched my mark since I left you?"

Maggie refuses to answer, but shame crawls across her cheeks. "You don't have to tell me. I already know." Kara steps even closer, their bodies now flush. "Every time you rubbed this mark until you came, I knew. I could feel you."

Maggie gasps and Kara wants to kiss her, but she doesn’t. She can't. Everything about this is wrong and all her fault, but mistakes are all she seems capable of making with Maggie. She desperately tries to course correct. “If you keep rubbing it, it won't go away," Kara whispers. "You have to stop."

"I have to stop?" Maggie is angry now. “You did this to me! Why don't you stop? Let go of me.”

The challenge freezes Kara.

"I know you heard me, Supergirl. You're the hero, right? You're supposed to do the right thing. We both know that's not me."

Kara has been doing the right thing her entire life. It's gotten her the ghosts of a dead planet and the lives of an adopted one hanging from her shoulders; it's gotten her aching loneliness that doesn't leave and a love she wants that she can’t have. Kara’s let go of so much already. For once she just wants to hold on.

She leans forward and crashes her lips into Maggie's and pours herself into the kiss. The anger, the heartache, the expectations, the loss. From the start, kissing Maggie has felt differently from kissing anyone else. Like no matter how much Kara gives, Maggie's mouth is hungry for her rage. She kisses Maggie hard and deep as she rubs her mark on the back of Maggie's neck. Maggie's moans are constant. Kara takes them all. When Maggie cums, Kara takes the scream too and settles it in the pit of her stomach.

This is a mistake that will wreck them both in the end. She knows that. It just feels too good to stop.

---

to be continued...

Chapter Inspiration 

Can Kara feel when Maggie’s doing that? Like is it an open connection? Or is the note mark like a Kryptonian sexual claiming mark? // prompt from DetDanv.

Kara sees Maggie getting herself off by touching the bite mark. She helps finish Maggie off. // prompt from Jungle Fever

[insert-geeky-things-here]

Here and Gone Again - Chapter 1: The Pizza Man

Chapter Summary: Amelia and her friends hang out during their final hour of school before they all head to Amelia’s house to celebrate her 18th birthday.

Warnings: Light swearing

Word Count: 3,107

Chapter 1/?

“Danger! Danger! This call is from your mother!” Blared the ringtone that I had set for none other than my mom. I looked to the teacher with the phone in my hand, brow raised, silently asking them if I could step outside and answer the call.

“Be quick,” Mr. Wilson, my American Government teacher, replied as he continued his rant on how inaccurate Disney’s version of Pocahontas was.

Nodding my head in thanks, I stood and headed towards the door, answering my phone as I did so. The hallway was silent besides the light chatter coming from the open doors and room-less classrooms around the school. When looking outside the many windows that faced the afternoon sun, one could still see that hints of summer still clung to the trees that had mostly turned various shades of red and orange. Hell, even the sky looked like it could have been a clear summer day. It was late September, so it was a nice sight to see.

“Hey, mom!” I smiled, a sense of reverence hinted in my voice since there were some classroom doors open.

“Hi, honey,” She said, her voice coming out a little garbled from the semi-shitty cell reception. “Are your friends still coming over for the party?”

I smiled widely, excitement bubbling up inside me, remembering that party that was going to take place at my house.

“Most of ‘em,” I said. “Brielynn has to study for college midterms.”

There was a pause for a short time, and during that time, I could hear the sound of my mom’s car running in the background along with the mumbled singing of my older sister Melissa who was sitting in the car with my mom, home from college for the weekend, lucky to get away from the stress of midterms. Assuming the rest would be able to come, she asked another question.

“Okay. Even though I won’t be home for a while, should I get pizza for the friends who don’t like sushi?”

“You don’t have to get the pizza, mom,” I replied. “I can order some when I’m in fourth period so then my friends and I have something to snack on. I’ll have some delivered to the house a little bit before dinner starts if I need to.

With a simple okay, we continued on with saying our goodbyes, for the time being, I hung up and walked back into the classroom, putting my phone away as I sat down. By then, Mr. Wilson was showing students a clip from Pocahontas and was pointing out all of the errors and telling them how the scenarios we witnessed most likely went down. Many students laughed or snorted at Wilson’s varying array of reactions. A few moments later, the clip was finished, which marked the end of his rant. Sighing, Mr. Wilson turned to me, an exasperated look upon his already weary face.

“How did your call go?” He asked, a hand on his hip, his other resting on his computer.

“It was okay,” I shrugged. “My mom is going to pick up some sushi for my 18th birthday party tonight.”

Mr. Wilson gasped and wore a face of feigned a hurt expression. His hand went to his chest as if I just told him that I was going to drop his class altogether. I chuckled and looked at my open computer momentarily, knowing full well that I needed the credit or else I wouldn’t graduate high school.

“Why would she not bring it here?” He cried.

At that, the class laughed. I laughed too, for a time, before I retorted a simple response.

“Well, to be fair, Mr. Wilson,” I sighed dramatically, “I did give you some donuts this morning in thanks for the Starbucks gift card you got me.”

“Touché,” He laughed before checking the time on his computer, seeing there was only one minute left of that class. “Alright, you guys can go. See you guys later.”

After that, the day flew by, each class seeming to be shorter and shorter with each one that passed. After some announcements given to the school by Paul, the music teacher, I was finally able to make it to the fourth and final period of the day. I sat down in my seat and looked around the sweeping room that everyone knows to be the Uncommons. From the three other classrooms and to the front and to the side of me, I could faintly hear different students from different rooms either talking about random things or doing their homework that was assigned that week. One by one, my friends trickled in each one sitting at the round table that we had claimed for ourselves at the beginning of the year. We were all in our most casual attire, seeing as the school lets us take a break from wearing our black, navy, or khaki pants and varying array of school approved shirts.

When we were all freshman, there were seven of us, and we called ourselves the Seven Deadly Sins for shits and giggles at one point, but within the first two years of high school, two had already left the group, either because they didn’t want to hang out with the group or everyone had so much disdain for them that they were, in ways, exiled from the group. Sure, either Tanya or I would talk to that one friend that was exiled at times, but Tanya was the only one who would ever talk to her; more often than not, I would ignore her entire existence, which can be seen as rude when one knows that I was friends with her since the sixth grade, but what’s the point in a friendship when one of them is so toxic one can hardly breathe. In the end, the friends around me were the ones I knew were going to last me a lifetime.

“So, what do you have planned for the party, Amelia?” Artemis queried, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Well, I was thinking we could go on a movie marathon, eat some sushi and pizza, and pull out my Ouija board that my sisters’ friend gave me today…?” I asked more than I said as I fiddled with the felt ears on my Spock socks that I had gotten a few years before. “I mean, we don’t have to do it in that exact order.”

“Now that’s what I call a party,” A voice came from behind me, the smell of pizza wafting into my nose.

I jolted upright and gasped, my foot falling to the cement flooring. In truth, I had forgotten that I had ordered pizza right before announcements. Pulling out my wallet my school bag, I grabbed 20 bucks and handed it to the pizza man, in turn, he handed me my pizza. As he was handing my pizza, the breadsticks sliding off of the top of the pizza boxes and with the shock of the sliding breadsticks, the pizza man almost dropped the pizza. Reflexes kicking, I grabbed the breadsticks, all the while steadying the hand of the pizza man. For a time, the world was at a standstill.

“Damn, Cas, where’d’ya learn that trick?” The man asked, clearly referencing Supernatural, a show that’s been running since 2005.

“I dunno,” I said aloud, almost incomprehensibly, before giggling lightly. “The pizza man?”

My friends snickered behind me, especially Artemis, who understood that reference more than any of my other friends did. I thanked the man for the pizza before I sat the pizza, soda, and breadsticks on the table.

“I just got the basic stuff with stuffed crust. Hope you guys don’t mind,” I said as I got a slice of both pepperoni and Hawaiian.

As soon as I said that, everyone started to grab some of their own food. Each person took a different amount of slices of their pizza and breadsticks that was provided. We were soon stuffing ourselves with pizza, disregarding the endless pile of essays and projects that we had to complete. Leaning to the center of the table, I grabbed the soda and upon opening, the soda bubbled and fizzed inside. Realizing neither I nor my friends didn’t have a cup to drink from, I stood.

“Do you guys want to get you some cups?” I asked, turning slightly towards the direction of the school kitchen.

Each one of them nodded in agreement as they took a bite of their pizza before I headed off to the kitchen for some cups, glad that the school provided clean cups for the students. The next hour and a half soon passed by like a blur, the pizza was mostly eaten, and the soda bottle had been finished off by then. The next thing we knew, it was 3:15 and students were being released by their Study Hall teacher, the halls becoming filled with a sea of freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors. Some of the teachers and the principal saw the students, partially glad that they were now able to go home and relax and probably crack open a beer with a friend or a spouse. In all that chaos, I began to pack my stuff up along with my friends, letting my thoughts overwhelm my senses, drowning out those around me.

As I was packing up my stuff, I felt the sun hit my face, which had blinded me temporarily. I breathed in, thinking about all the years I had spent at this school that I had almost considered a second home. Hell, I’ve been going to the same school since my sixth year. Not to mention that I’ve even spent the night here for an annual event that most of the school population would go to, even if they needed an IV that consisted of the strongest coffee ever in their arm the next morning because of how tired they were. To think that I’ll be graduating in a few months…

“Kinslayer, you okay?” Layla asked, using the nickname I earned in freshman year.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking about graduation,” I sighed softly.

She nodded as she finished packing up the stuff that she brought with her that day. Most of the students had gone by then, either on the bus or in their cars, however, some students remained, due to the fact that their parents hadn’t come to pick them up yet. Teachers talked amongst themselves about the plans they had for the weekend or grumbled about the pile of papers they had to grade. Swinging my bag on my shoulders, I turned to look at the desk of my Literature teacher, Mr. Barnes. He sat there with his hand over his mouth, eyes scanning something before him. As if sensing I was looking, he looked towards me and smiled, beckoning me towards him. When I arrived within earshot that didn’t cause him to yell, he spoke.

“How does it feel to be 18?” He asked, his smile still on his face. I shrugged.

“I still feel the same as if I was still 17,” My reply came easy, seeing as I had always felt the same whenever my birthday came around, besides the fact that the burden of voting and actual adult things now rested upon my shoulders. “Nothing feels too different.”

As if on cue, I felt a familiar presence behind me. Turning, my thoughts had been confirmed. I saw Blakely, who is Mr. Barnes’ wife and my old eighth-grade science teacher, and smiled. I took a step back and turned, leaning in for a hug, a traditional greeting between Blakely and me. The hug was brief, seeing as Blakely pulled away, pulling something wrapped in wrapping from out of her bag. Grinning, I took the gift from her with a small smile that didn’t leave my face for a good while. I looked up from the gift, brushing my hair from off of my shoulder.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to get me something,” I said. Blakely shrugged and smiled in response.

Taking it as a partial sign to open the present, I gently opened the wrapping. The package was oblong and about a foot and a half in length. When the wrapping was completely off, I saw an innately carved box made of oak with hinges on one side and an easy-to-open lock on the other. Upon opening the wooden box, I saw a wand made of polished wood. The design of didn’t look as if it belonged to any character from Harry Potter or Fantastic Beasts, having already memorized most of the wands that each character had in their possession. My jaw dropped, having realized that the wand before me looked exactly like the one I had on Pottermore. The wand was twelve, almost thirteen inches, aspen wood, and when I held it in my hand and bent it slightly, it was surprisingly flexible. The wand in my hand was amazingly balanced and easy to hold. I waved it around, mentally reciting Alohamora and Expelliarmus. It was perfect.

“If I’m going, to be honest,” I said as I held the wand closer to my face to get a closer look at the glittering woodwork, “I feel like I could kill a man with this thing.”

Both Mr. Barnes and Blakely laughed at my comment, knowing full well that I often used dark humor, or just humor in general, to express how I felt. By then, my friends had gathered around to examine the wand I had received moments earlier, each one of them amazed at the delicate work that was put into the wand itself. Smiling one more time, I turned to the two teachers before me and said goodbye, thanking them for the gift, and headed towards the door.

When leaving the building, the air felt crisp and smelled faintly of warm maple and smoky bonfires from late nights past, making it therapeutic in more ways than one. On top of that, the weatherman had forecasted that there would be a thunderstorm that would start around midnight. Looking into the mostly empty student parking lot, my car was nowhere to be found. Confused, I pulled the keys from my bag to press the unlock button to open my car, only to realize that the keys in my hand were drastically different compared to the keys that I had this morning. My brow furrowed, perplexity written all over my face. Practically hearing the grins on the faces of my friends, I turned to them for answers.

“Look to your left,” Tanya grinned. I was about to ask why, but she just shook her head. “Just do it; you won’t regret it.”

Slowly looking to my left, I saw the thing that had wanted ever since I was thirteen: a sleek, black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. In shock, I froze in my spot. I could hardly breathe as I let the tears fall from my eyes.

“Is this some sort of joke?” I asked as I turned to meet the eyes of my friends, tears still flowing freely from my eyes.

Each one of them shook their head, telling me that the car I was seeing was, in fact, something to I could call my own. My voice cracked with emotion as I struggled to emit a laugh that miserably failed, despite my attempt. I stepped towards the car, resting the tips of my fingers on the passenger side of the engine, slowly running them along the sleek paint, eyes closed. Slowly walking around to the front of the car, my palm making full contact with the hood of the engine, my eyes fluttered open, finally laying eyes on the sight that I had only dreamed of having. My eyes flickered over to my friends a couple of yards away, the biggest grin on my face.

“Get in losers,” I said through a laugh as I ran towards the driver’s door. “We’re going kinslaying!”

As if on cue, my friends climbed into the car, laughing as they did so and upon them entering the car, the keys were already in the ignition. My wrist flicked forward, making the engine roar to life. The next thing I knew, I was pulling out of the parking lot, heading onto I-95. During the car ride home, needless to say, was home to endless bouts of laughter, music, and future inside jokes that we would forever share and treasure in our hearts, no matter the circumstances.

~~~

The smiles on both my face and my friends’ faces grew instantaneously as I turned onto the dirt that lead to my house. I stepped on the gas pedal, making trails of dust into the air behind me. Over bumps, railroad tracks, branches, and small rocks and cracks in the road, I was finally able to pull into the gravel driveway of my house, the sight of my smiling Great Pyrenees Hope and ducks greeting me. Putting the car in park, I hopped out of the car and ran up to Hope, scratching her behind the ears.

“Hello, goofus, my floopy puppy!” The words came out muffled seeing as I had now buried my face in Hope’s snow white fur as I was now hugging my dog tightly, even though I had seen her that morning before I had headed off to school. “Hmm, I love you, goofball, even though you can be a dumbass.”

I could hear Layla snort with laughter behind me while the others chuckled their own response to my odd greeting to my dog. And with that, we headed inside and the partying began.

———————————————————————

Authors Note: Hey, beans! I hope you guys liked the first chapter, it took me quite a while to right. Sorry if it seemed like I was writing a Supernatural or a Harry Potter fanfiction at first (I promise that’ll change in about a chapter or two). I’m also sorry if it seemed weird at any point. This chapter was mainly for an introduction to the characters and plot I have in mind. Besides that, I just wanted to tell you guys that I was planning on writing the rest of the book in the third person, seeing as I would be able to write a bit more for you, not to mention that I’ll be able to get in more detail that should help the story flow more smoothly. I’ll also try and write more about what the other girls are thinking instead of it being all in Amelia’s head. Comment down below and tell me who you’d like the next chapter to be focused on.

Tag List:

@phantomxqueen3

@calicoskatts

@princessofthefandomrealm

@buggre-alle-thisss-ineffability

@pancakesause195

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2019, Part IV

Part III, Part II, Part I PRETTY PRETTY GOOD MOVIES

62. Shazam! (David F. Sandberg)- One of the most comic-booky movies to come around in a while in the sense that it seems to be in fast forward for the first third, using shorthands because it has too much story to tell. I am sad to report that Shazam! has no Movie Stars in it, and I didn't realize how essential those were to the superhero genre. There is a cagey standalone quality to its modest bets though. I like that it's anchored in a real place and isn't afraid to be a little too scary for kids. I would see it mostly as a product of potential though, for a funny Jack Dylan Grazer, for the filmmakers, and for the studio. As a student of weird billing, I have so many questions about Adam Brody getting awarded fifth lead for a bit part.

61. Fighting with My Family (Stephen Merchant)- Dwayne Johnson as producer feels like the auteur here, since the formulaic story has more to do with his combed-over, please-everyone persona than with Stephen Merchant's more messy, improvisatory style. I couldn't care less about the time spent on Jack Lowden's brother character, but I was impressed with the physical part of Florence Pugh's performance. This is a movie you've seen a hundred times, but it hits most of its marks skillfully. 60. Spider-Man: Far From Home (Jon Watts)- This is a movie in which a spurned tech innovator uses drone projectors to stage a battle in which he defeats an elemental water monster to save Venice. The best sequence is one in which a boy tries to trick his friends into letting him sit next to the girl he likes on a flight.  59. John Wick: Chapter 3- Parabellum (Chad Stahelski)- What a criticism it is to claim that the filmmakers give in too much to fanservice, especially since I don't know what that word means anymore if something like this is the monoculture. So they gave us, the audience, what we wanted, and I was upset that it was two hours and ten minutes? Seriously though, have you ever eaten too much ice cream? 58. Fyre (Chris Smith)- An interesting yarn that gets at the foolishness of Internet influencing better than anything else that I've seen. I was surprised by how distant many of the subjects seemed, as if only the Big Bad Billy was responsible for any misleading. And I was grateful that, despite the level of criminality on display, it was still as funny as the tweets were at the time. The film lacks shape though, and it would be nice to have somebody smart on hand to answer questions. Can someone explain to me why it's so important that the island used to be Pablo Escobar's? Why should I want to be like Pablo Escobar? 57. Leaving Neverland (Dan Reed)- Part 1 works because of the striking similarities in the parallel stories, as well as the subjects' perspicacious understanding of their own emotions and childhood psychology. So Part 2 gets extremely frustrating when these men, who have already proven how articulate they are, seem puzzled by the obvious psychological problems they have as adults. 56. Diane (Kent Jones)- This movie is kind of good when it's purely slice-of-life, before it declares what it is. It's very good once it declares itself as a routine of self-flagellation, a sort of Raging Bull for women with multiple recipes for tater tot hotdish. It's a little less good when it speeds up and goes back on that thesis near the end. For the record, I think Mary Kay Place is fine. I don't get the critical adoration.

55. Rocketman (Dexter Fletcher)- If the choice is Bohemian Rhapsody or this, then I'll take this every time. Unlike the former, Elton John's life doesn't present an obvious high point in the second half or easy conflict for the first half. As a result, the relationships within John's family seem broad with manufactured conflict. (His birth father's hardness isn't that far off from Walk Hard's "wrong kid died.") But there's an authenticity here that's refreshing, a respect to the unique friendship between Elton and Bernie and a respect for the transformative power of the music. That sincerity extends to Egerton's generous performance, which nails the self-effacing Elton John smile. So there are some biopic structural problems that can't be helped, but if only to admire the '80s fits that Elton gets off, attention must be paid. 54. Triple Frontier (J.C. Chandor)- A useful example for differentiating between tropes and cliches of the action drama genre. For someone who gets less amped than I do for dudes meeting in a shipping container to have a conversation about how "now is the time to get out," it's probably full of cliches. For fans of hyper-masculine parables about getting a team together (that are also sort of meta-commentaries on their lead actor's fallen star), it's full of tropes. 53. The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (Mike Mitchell)- The plot is nearly incoherent, and the sequel isn't really satirizing anything like the first one was. But the jokes come at a Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker clip. A character in a car chase saying, "It's like she knows my every move" before a cut reveals he's been using turn signals? That's some Frank Drebin stuff. 52. Long Shot (Jonathan Levine)- Jonathan Levine has carved out an interesting directorial space for himself, with a career far different from what I imagined when I saw and loved The Wackness, a film to which I'm a little afraid to return. Levine is making, at the highest level possible ($40 million budget?), the types of movies that we claim don't get made anymore. A one-crazy-night Christmas comedy, an adventure comedy, and now a political romantic comedy, all with top flight Movie Stars. Long Shot seems like a rare opportunity to put Seth Rogen and Charlize Theron together and do something special, and what we come out with is...cute. For every good decision the film makes--what a supporting cast, all playing rounded characters--it makes a bad one--leaning too heavily into Rogen's patented "I don't really know what we're yelling about" delivery. The music is uninspired, but the presidential satire is pretty clever. The rhythm of the film is jagged and doesn't really cut together, but the script is very fair to the Theron character. Even in the general tone of the film's politics, it declares a few ideals, but those positions are still too neutral and obvious. I had a good time, but in a more capable director's hands, this experience wouldn't feel like math. 51. Isn’t It Romantic (Todd Strauss-Schulson)- So frothy that it almost doesn't believe in itself, especially near the end, but I found myself laughing a lot. Regarding the gay best friend, I'm very interested in the space of politically incorrect humor that is acceptable only because the work has built up self-awareness in other areas. That's a difficult negotiation, but this movie balances it. 50. Yesterday (Danny Boyle)- There's one twist that stretches the moral center of the film, and two minutes later there's a twist that's probably just a bridge too far in good taste. Other than that, this is a really cute Richard Curtis script, and it's nice to hear "Hey Jude" on movie speakers. 49. Ready or Not (Radio Silence)- Short and spicy, despite one or two too many twists. I'm in the front row of the Adam Brody Revival, but I appreciated the movie more as an exercise in the paranoid misery built into wealth. I wish I could have written the line down, but Alex says something like, "I didn't realize how much you could do just because your family said that it was okay," and that's the whole film. If you can, see it without watching the trailer first.

48. The Laundromat (Steven Soderbergh)- Mary Ann Bernard is a Steven Soderbergh pseudonym, but what if he did hire an outside editor? What if someone saved him from himself? It's hard to believe that Meryl Streep is the heart of the film--if the film's thesis is "The meek will inherit the Earth?"--if we go on a twenty-minute detour to an African family and a ten-minute detour to China. I laughed quite a bit, and I admire the audacity of the ending. But this is a movie that knows what it's about without knowing how to be about it.

47. High Flying Bird (Steven Soderbergh)- As a person who can cite most NBA players' cap figures off the top of my head, I should love High Flying Bird, a movie about a sports agent who tries to topple the system during an NBA lockout. Instead I liked it okay. It takes an hour to kick into high gear, but once it does, some self-contained scenes are powerhouses, and the writer of Moonlight was always going to provide an emotional kick that is sometimes absent from Soderbergh's work. Like Soderbergh's Unsane from last year, High Flying Bird is shot on an iPhone, an appropriate form given that the execution is a do-it-yourself parable that takes place mostly inside. Soderbergh is a man who has always tried to trade the ossified system of moviemaking for experimentation, so most reviews have pointed toward the meta quality of capturing a character doing that same thing in another medium. Like most of his post-retirement work, however, I find myself asking one question: "Would anyone care if this were made by another director?" 46. Piercing (Nicolas Pesce)- Good sick fun with a taste for the theatrical. I saw twist one and twist three coming, but twist two was ingenious. It ends the only way it can, which is okay. 45. Booksmart (Olivia Wilde)- At first the film is hard to acclimate to, stylized as it is into a very specific but absurd setting, counteracted by a very specific and realistic relationship. The music cues are all awful until the Perfume Genius one, which is so perfect that it erases the half-dozen clunkers.But it's smartly funny, funnily warm, and warmly smart. The screenplay does some clever things with swapping the protagonists' wants and needs at crucial times. Molly will have an obvious drive that overrides Amy's fear, and then a few scenes later, there will be an organic reversal. 44. Joker (Todd Phillips)- Joker presents more ideas than it cogently lands. I don't disagree with Amanda Dobbins's burn that it feels more like a vision board than a coherent story. Still, its success kind of fascinates me. This dark provocation, shot on real locations, has way more in common with Phoenix entries like You Were Never Really Here than it does with the DCEU. In fact, the comic book shoehorns feel like intrusions into a story about a guy who likes to Jame Gumb skinny-dance. Dunk on me if you want, but I think it's most eerie and affecting as a portrait of mental illness. Whereas Joker is a criminal mastermind in Batman lore, this is a guy helpless enough to scrawl into a notebook, "The worst part about having a mental illness is pretending to people that you don't." And that idea gets borne out in a scene in which he's pausing and rewinding a tape to study how a talk show guest sits and waves like a regular person. It's rare enough to see a person this mentally ill depicted on screen; it's even rarer to see someone this aware of his own isolation and otherness.

[imaginesnkdorks]

Reader and Erwin where she's a cadet in the 104 but she's a couple years older than Erwin and all of them. The had a relationship during the time they met and they get married she pregnant and he gives her and the child a bunch of diaries or journals that tell his life and but during the battle with the beast he dies so the child grows up without a father but wants to be exactly like him

The story ur writing a role to take with the reader x Erwin I made a typo she’s not older than Erwin but she’s older than the cadets she’s 20

“A Role to Take” PART 1

Pairing: Erwin X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Violence; mentions of death; long read

Words: 2270

[Part 2 ] [Part III] [Part IV]

[A/N: So, this was a tough one to write. I didn’t want it to feel rushed so I decided to cut it into two to three parts. Will update the next parts probably this weekend :D - mod max]

[EDIT: Made Reader younger :D]

           Anotherwedding, hmm? I sighed as I walked home. Everyone my age is getting married –people I used to play with when we were little. It’s not like we’re beyondmarrying age – we’re just in our twenties. In fact, I just turned twenty. Stillyoung, but not quite. The tragedy of two years ago made everyone realize how wecould just die anytime. Most decided it was now or never, and eloped with theirsweethearts.

           Whatabout me? It isn’t like love never presented itself. It’s just that I have adifferent priority. That is looking after my ill mother. People ask me if I’mhappy like this, and I always answered yes. I do get lonely, sometimes. But Ilove how rewarding it is to feel useful, and to be able to help my mother.  

           Still, being my mother’s caretakercame to an end. And even though I’ve been expecting this to happen eventually,I was devastated. I have no one. And honestly, my life lost its direction. Idon’t know what to do.

           I live in Ragako Village, in thesouthern part of Wall Rose. It’s a quaint little town and I love how peacefulit is, despite being close to the edge of the wall.

           “Ah, (Y/N), done with your chores?”Mrs. Springer asked me the moment I passed by her house.

           “Almost.” I answered, smiling to thesweet woman. “I heard a commotion at your house this morning, is everythingalright?” At that, she wore an expression only a pissed off mother could pulloff.

           Letting go a puff of air, she began“Connie is planning to enlist. That boy is worrying me to death.”

           “Oh? Surely, though he isn’tplanning to join the Survey Corps?” The Survey Corps is the most dangerousbranch of the military. Ever since the fall of Wall Maria two years ago, therewas a spike in people enlisting.

           “Goodness, no. He wants to join theMilitary Police.” Hmm, the military police? That’s the branch that takes careof the inner district. That’s far from titans, so if Connie get in, he’ll beliving a comfortable life. Though, I understand why his mother is worried –people can die even during training.

           We exchanged a few more words,before I promptly said goodbye. I entered my house … alone again.

           I hate to admit this but I don’tknow what to do with myself. I need to take care of something – or someone. Mytalk with Mrs. Springer sparked a plan in my mind, and I’m shaking justthinking about it. Not of fear, but of excitement. I believe I haven’t feltthis my whole life.

           The plan? Watch over ConnieSpringer, of course. And like him, I entered the military. I don’t haveanything to lose, anyway.

           “Did my mother ask you to do this,(Y/N)?” Connie asked me, while we were on our way to camp.

           “Hmm, no. I literally have nothingelse to do.” I told the him.

           “Oh. You wanna join the MilitaryPolice, too?” He asked me, flashing a toothy grin.

           “I haven’t decided yet. We’ll see.”I can’t tell him that I’ll join whichever he joins now, could I?

           “Okay.”

           We arrived at the training camp, andwas given our uniforms and cabin assignments. That’s when I parted ways withConnie. I’m quite thankful that there are a number of young adults and adultswith us – see, not only teenagers are trying to enter the military. Thanks tofood shortages, enlisting was a sure way to keep food coming. Meaning, therewould be a lot of breadwinners and even parents here. After changing into ourissued uniforms, we got in line to meet our instructor, thus beginning our lifeas the 104th trainees.

           Two years passed in a blink of aneye. Turns out, I don’t really have to worry about Connie. The kid’s prettywitty, if I do say so myself. Other than that, all I can say is that I have aknack for this. I spent most my life doing mundane housework. I don’t eventhink I’ve run at all! But this – using the 3DM gear, fighting whether by handor blades – is something that came quite naturally. Was it due to pent upfrustration? I finally found a safe way to let it all out? Maybe.

           Graduation is almost here, andeveryone is thinking seriously about which branch to join. I’m relieved thatConnie is still aspiring to join the Military Police, but I’m worried. There’sthis one kid who absolutely detests titans, Eren, and I think he’s slowlyinfluencing a bunch of other kids to join the Survey Corps.

           “What about you, (Y/N)?” Mina askedme.

           “Huh?” We are currently at the topof the wall, cleaning.

           “Which branch are you joining?” Sheexplained.

           “Oh. The Survey Corps, I guess.”

           “Woah. Really?” It was Eren thistime. That’s the kid who hates titans. It’s understandable why, though. Hismother was eaten by one right in front of him. No wonder he’s so messed up.

           “Why?” It was Connie who asked me.Why, indeed?

           I shrugged. Months into training, Idecided that I’d join the SC whichever branch Connie joins. The other two arerelatively safer than the SC, so there won’t be any need to worry. Besides, Ifeel like that’s where I’d be most useful.

           “What about the rest of you?” Iasked them. The conversation took off, and it turns out that Eren did influencea bunch of them. Even Connie. That made me raise a brow, and Connie sheepishlyshrugged it off. Ugh, this kid’s soft.

           We got quiet as we focused more onour task. I can’t help but hum a tune. Cleaning is as easy as breathing for me,after all. I’m sure I’ll ha –

           Booom!

           “What the –?” Thunder? “Titan!” Atitan! A titan appeared right in front of us … It happened all so fast!

           “Gahhh!” A gust of wind threw us alloff the wall.

           “Samuel!” I think it was Sasha, shejumped and did something. I didn’t see because my eyes were on the gate – orwhere the gate was supposed to be.

           “A breach! Titans are going to getin!” I yelled, in a panic. The hell of five years ago would happen again! Wecan’t let that happen!

           I jumped off, closing the gapbetween me and the gate. “Titans are already walking in?” Unbelievable. We didn’teven have time to breathe, they’re already invading! I looked up to mycompanions to try to regroup. Samuel’s passed out, with Sasha holding on tohim. Mina and Thomas seems unharmed. Connie is frozen, eyes locked at the gapwhich was once the gate, and Eren was nowhere to be found.

           Booming sounds can still be heardfrom the top – is Eren fighting the colossal titan? Hnghh. I don’t have time tothink about that. I turned back to the gap, and there are at least seven titansalready in here. I can’t kill them all. We need back up!

           Adrenaline was rushing through mysystem – this is what we’ve been training for!

           It took us two days to fight titans,seal the gap and clean up everything. It was a blur full of tears, blood anddeath. Many among my batchmates perished – sons, daughters, parents … dead.

           This event opened my eyes in manyways. We aren’t safe – we were never safe. It seems that titans gave us thehundred years of peace. Now that it’s over, they’re slowly picking us off onewall at a time.

           Luckily, we managed to seal thegate. In a twist of fate, a titan saved us. Ironic, I know. A Titan protectedus from other titans. That Eren boy transformed into a titan. I don’t know thefull details yet, though. That’s another irony, right there. Eren was probably theone who hates titans the most, yet here he is. Able to become a titan,apparently at will. That kid must be feeling horrible about that.

           We are currently cremating whatlittle we were able to recover of the dead. It was tough identifying most. Itwas a tragedy –  as bad as any could everbe. I think I should be worried. Well, worried about something personal, and itisn’t about my safety. I loved the battle. My flesh tingles at the sheerthought of slicing titans. I’ve never felt more alive!

           I think I finally found my life’spurpose – to rid this world of titans.

           You could say that I’m an oddball.Most people are in shock. Poor Connie – he’s inconsolable. Everyone is. We areall quietly watching the pyres when Jean spoke up.

           “Hey, guys …” Needless to say, hehas all of our undivided attention.

           He turned to us, and he obviouslyisn’t taking this well. Which, I’d say is normal given the situation.Especially since a close friend of his passed away. “Have you decided whichforce you’re joining?” He asked, yet he didn’t let any of us answer before heshared a shocking news. “I’ve made up my mind …” he couldn’t stop shaking as hecontinued, “I … I … I’m joining the Survey Corps!”

           That’s shocking. Jean was veryadamant in joining the MP, yet here he is, declaring that he’ll join the SC.After that, we sunk back into silence – not really. Cries of sadness are heardall around.

           It’s the day, the day that theSurvey Corps’ commander is going to talk to us graduates. He’s the first oneamong the commanders who’ll try to recruit us. I guess he’s the first one,since the other commanders think that if they go first, there will be no oneleft for the SC.

           I was leaning against the wall, withothers who are rather attached to mein the loosest sense of the word. Also, Connie seems to be sticking closer tome ever since the battle at Trost. We were minding our own business when Jeanwalked up to us.

           “Jean, you’re really joining theSurvey Corps?” I couldn’t help but ask. This sudden change of heart of hisbaffles me still.

           “Yeah.” He curtly answered.

           “Why the sudden decision?” Sashaasked. Hmm, turns out it wasn’t just me who was surprised. “Aren’t you scared?”

           “Huh? Of course I don’t want to jointhe Survey Corps.” He answered, nonchalantly. It seems he’s cried all of histears last night.

           Connie spoke up then, “then why?”

           “It’s not that titans don’t scare meanymore either. And I won’t spout nonsense like, the best belongs in the Survey Corps. I’m not as eager to die asthat suicidal bastard.”

           “You mean Eren? He’s already joinedthe Survey Corps.” I added. After what seemed to be a messy trial, the SC gottemporary custody of Eren.

           We were then called to get in line.We all decided to follow the order, but not before Jean told us how this,joining the SC, was solely a decision of his.

           Before today, I have never seen thecommander of the SC. I expected to see an old, bald man. Pretty much likeCommander Pixis of the Garrison. Turns out I was way off the mark.

           “I am Erwin Smith, Commander of theSurvey Corps.” The tall, blonde man said in that smooth voice of his. He’s alot younger compared to Pixis, and our instructor Keith Shadis. And quite ahandsome fellow. He began his speech, inviting us to join the SC. But he wasn’tsugar coating it. He told us the harsh, cold truth about what’s it like. Thisman is different.

           As he finished, he asked those whowants to join to stay in the field. Many people left – but that is to beexpected. When people who wanted to leave were all gone, commander addressed uswho stayed behind; “are you willing to die if you’re ordered to?”

           “I don’t want to die!” A brave soulanswered.

           “I see. I like the looks on your faces.”Commander Erwin said, eyes travelling around, looking each of us in the eyes. Andfor a moment there, his eyes lingered a little too long on mine. I never knew aperson’s eyes could be that strikingly blue.

           “I hereby welcome all of you to theSurvey Corps! This is a true salute! Offer up your hearts!”

           “Yes, sir!” We yelled as we made ourfirst ever salute as Survey Corps soldiers.

           “I’m scared!” Sasha muttered. “Iwant to go home.”

           “I don’t even care.” Conniewhispered.

           These teens … they’re brave. Yes,they want to run, but they aren’t doing it. They chose to stay.

           “You’ve done well to endure yourfear. You are brave soldiers. You have my heartfelt respect.” Commander Erwinseems to be thinking the same thing as I am. And as I turned back to look athim, I saw his eyes were back on me. Then he turned away.

           Nineteen. Out of hundreds on ourfirst day, only nineteen of us stayed to join the Survey Corps.

           This is it. The direction I’ve beenlooking for. I can’t help but feel excited.

Copyright © 2017 by imaginesnkdorks. All rights reserved

[worstpossibledokis]

Science-Fantasy

Ok so apparently the tumblr was weird and cut up to like 90% of the previous 3 of these. I’ve fixed them now though, so anyone who read them and thought they were short there’s at least 5 mini ficlets under each read more and I’ve fixed that. But also I had to do one of these for IV as well because he’s my precious child.

Prompts: Hollowness, Goat (as if we needed proof how random this is), Visitor, Defection, Octopus, Mightiest and Emperor

“Dragons and science. Should have known.”

Hollowness

Thomas can count off every trophy he’s won. Every victory, every opponent, every title, every time V and Tron told him it was necessary. Every time III handed his deck and whispered good luck.

“Age 16. Asian Champion IV.”

Trophies and rosettes and medals. Small victories to push through to the big ones. Victory after victory, never allowed to falter for even a second. A loss was a failure. A loss was unacceptable. IV was never allowed to lose. He was never allowed to even consider losing. Losing even a single duel was not an option back then.

“Age 15. East Asia Champion IV.”

Photos and posters and promotions. IV standing next to all sorts of big names. Mr Heartland standing a little too close for comfort. That ESPer Robin kid smiling awkwardly. V sulking in the background, looking every bit the perfect gentleman manager.

“Age 14. Under 15 Asian Champion IV.”

Participation medals, rare cards given out for tournament entry, signed playmats and duel disks. Pictures of him and the other duellists. Smiles and laughter. Thomas’ fingers brushed them slowly.

“Age 13. Regional Champion IV.”

There’s a soft sigh and Thomas turns a little. Tron is sitting on the bed watching him. Tron? Byron. Supposedly Byron Arclight now. They’re looking into how to regenerate him, so he looks like their father once more. He’s still Tron right now.

“I don’t remember that one,” Tron says.

Thomas’ fingers brush the next crystal glass trophy one along. “It’s my favourite.”

“It looks cheap.”

“Age 12. Lady Carol Care Institution Champion. Tom Arclight.”

Tron makes and noise and Thomas glances back to see his nose scrunched up and mouth pulled down at the corners. “You’re not a Tom.”

Goat

Since Yuma’s WDC Champion (and somehow that does count as a recognised world championship putting his world ranking somewhere just below Thomas’ own) he now gets invited to tournaments. Michael so generously offered Akari Thomas to chaperone him in foreign countries.

Suddenly Thomas wished Kaito had more interest in competitive duelling. Or that Ryoga’s reputation was still intact. But what was done was done and Thomas is escorting Yuma to a world tournament.

Yuma’s a typical tourist. Wants to see, do and eat everything. So Thomas, mostly to shut him up, has treated him to at least eighty percent of the room service menu.

“Let me try yours,” Yuma says.

“Not unless you can ask in English,” Thomas replies.

How desperate is he to try Thomas’ pizza? Yuma huffs, puffing out his cheeks and watching Thomas with the stringy, melted extra cheesy pizza as if he’s not eaten his own weight in fast food that day. They were in an English speaking country, Thomas was going to make Yuma speak his language for once.

“At least try,” he says. He switches to English, leaning forward so Yuma can see only two slices left in the box. And he’s at least kind enough to speak slowly and clearly, purposefully using all the words Yuma needs so he can hear them. “You can have some of my pizza if you ask properly and say please, Yuma.”

Yuma hesitates for a moment before nodding. He licks his lips and swallows thickly before trying. It’s awkward and hesitant, but it’s obvious Michael has been working with him. “Can I have some pizza please, Thomas?”

He tilts the box and Yuma grins, taking a slice and moaning blissfully as he eats. There’s something that might be a thanks through the mouthful of pizza. Thomas sighs, shaking his head and drinking slowly.

“I thought it was goats that ate everything not horses.”

“Huh?”

Visitor

“Hey, it’s IV.”Haruto says. “What are you doing with Princess Cologne, IV?”

He turns and Kaito is there at the bottom of the staircase with Haruto and Orbital. He shrugs and returns to work silently. Haruto hurries up the stairs, Kaito warning him to be careful, and sits on the step below Thomas.

“Thomas, Haruto, and I’m fixing her,” Thomas replies. “I thought it was sad she couldn’t have guests in her house anymore. I want to see her working like when I first came here.”

“Cologne is a highly advanced piece of robotic engineering with a state of the art AI,” Kaito says. “Park visitors can’t just fix her. You’d have to be-”

“You?” Thomas says. “Or Chris? Or our dads?”

“Well, yes.”

“And not as dumb as me?”

“Well, I-” Kaito scowls as Thomas smiles. “As a matter of fact-”

“Don’t be mean, Kaito,” Haruto scolds.

Thomas smiles and pats Haruto’s hair before turning his attention back to Princess Cologne. Kaito is glaring, no doubt waiting to point out something wrong or Thomas to ask for help. No such luck.

Thomas switches Cologne on and Haruto beams as she opens her eyes and greets them. He glances at Kaito, who’s staring up at them, mouth opening and closing uselessly. As if Thomas has spent that long in that family and not learnt complex sciences and engineering.

“How did you…?” Thomas rattles off a list of problems and how he’d fixed them, watching Haruto and Cologne together. He glances down at Kaito at last, finding he’d come up the stairs to join him, still staring. And slightly flushed. Kaito frowns as he pauses. “Go on.”

Thomas laughs. “So that’s what does it for you, huh? Dragons and science. Should have known.”

Defection

Ryoga sighs, giving Thomas that annoyingly condescending, pitying look that makes Thomas sick. “Are you really that lonely?”

Thomas’ fists clench, his cheeks burn, his chest aches. Yes! Yes, he’s that damn lonely he only has his little brother! Yes, he looks forward to spending time with him! And yes, it hurts that Michael will drop everything and go running off after Yuma and Ryoga and their friends with only two words to Thomas about maybe some other time!

He turns and storms away down the hall to his room, ignoring Michael calling after him. What does he care what Michael’s doing? What does he care if his only friends (are they really even that?) are years younger than him? Who needs friends anyway?!

It’s late when the door to his room opens again. Thomas is sulking on the bed, covers pulled up over his head and buried in the pillows and he doesn’t care if it’s immature. Michael sit’s on the bed behind him. No one else is that small and would visit, so of course it’s Michael. He’s not forgiving him. He’s not that much of a sap.

A book is dumped on his side and the weight gets up. Thomas scowls and peaks out from under the covers. It’s his work book from school. He frowns and sits up slowly, gazing down at the book with his school crest on. What…

Oh. It’s not his work book. He stares down at the name before slowly lifting his head and gazing up at not-Michael.

“You’re more interesting than them,” Rei mutters. “He’s already on a couple of hundred points on a new count.” Thomas isn’t sure he understands the joke but Rei grins. “But that’ll make Yuma cry and that’s so damn pathetic I can’t stand it. So, do my homework for me instead. I’ll replace your brother.”

“You can’t replace Michael.”

“I’m here, he’s out with the other Barians and Yuma. It’s up to you.”

Thomas scowls and wrinkles his nose before getting up with Vector’s book. “Fine.”

Octopus

Ryoga is completely distracted by the aquatic life in the clear tanks. Thomas gazes up above them as a shark looms over the top of the glass tunnel and Durbe seems just as drawn to it.

“Look at those teeth,” Iris says, leaning in Rio’s arms and pointing up at it. “Is that a Great White?”

Of course, this is where Ryoga takes over. Iris falls into his arm and he points up at the shark with Iris. “Sand Tiger. Mostly docile. Eats fish. Generally harmless.”

“Like Nasch.”

“And down there’s a Cat Shark,” Ryoga says, taking her to the side of the tunnel and pointing down into the reefs.

“It doesn’t look like your card.”

“Are Cat Shark babies still called pups?” Thomas says.

“Yes. But they lay eggs. You know, the mermaid purses, Iris?”

“Oh yes, on the beach back on the island.”

They wander off as Ryoga explains all the fish to Iris as they go. The three sigh, watching quietly as the King and his greatest admirer fawn over the sea life. Even Thomas has to admit, he might be beaten to the title of Ryoga’s number one fan by little Iris.

“Oh, hey,” Thomas says, batting Rio’s arm and dragging Durbe around. They press against the glass and Thomas points to the rocks. “It looks like Ryoga.”

“It does,” Rio giggles.

“It’s uncanny,” Durbe agrees.

“What is?” Iris calls. “Something majestic and fierce like Nasch.”

They laugh and point at the creature in a familiar violet and blue, legs curled slightly as it glares back. Iris huffs, clinging to Ryoga, telling them how it’s proof of Nasch’s greatness that even sea life wants to look like him and Ryoga distracts himself and her with a ray passing over. The three just laugh, deciding to name the grumpy looking octopus Nasch as they wandered after Ryoga and Iris.

A purple octopus plushie mysteriously appears on Ryoga’s pillow that night.

Or so Thomas is told.

Mightiest

Thomas once saw Chris as a hero. He was perfect. He could hold their (Thomas’) dog lead when he pulled. He could reach the kitchen counters without standing on a box. He count understand their father’s work. He didn’t have to go to the orphanage when their father went missing. But he’d promised he would find their father and bring him home. He’d promised they would be a proper family again.

Of course, Thomas had believed him wholeheartedly. Chris was perfect. Chris was his big brother. He’d never lie. He’d never break a promise.

Now Thomas knows better.

Chris says, “I promise.”

Thomas laughs in his face.

Chris has promised enough times. At least V had the decency not to promise him anything.

Thomas walks away and leaves Chris staring. All Chris’ broken promises. All his lies. That Tron’s plan was for the best, that following him would bring their father Byron back, that he wouldn’t let them get hurt again. That there was no way they’d ever lose. There was no way Chris would ever lose to Kaito.

“Thomas-”

“I don’t need anymore lies and broken promises, Chris.”

“No more lies,” Chris says, shaking his head. “No more broken promises. Things will be different this time.”

He’s heard that before. Chris sighs and sits on the balcony with him. Things will be different? He’s heard that over and over and it’s always lies. He closes his eyes, trying not to think about Chris sitting across from him. It was easier when they were V and IV. V didn’t promise anything and IV didn’t expect anything.

They had it all. They had the world. Now they’re sat here, unable to trust and unable to be honest. The bond between them will never be the same. Chris will never be Thomas’ hero again.

How the mighty had fallen.

Emperor

They’re in the old museum again.

The moonlight poured in through the stain glass windows and Thomas gazes up at the statues around them. They don’t talk. They barely look at each other. When they’re with others, it’s easy. They laugh and joke and chat like there’s nothing wrong.

But they meet here anyway. Like they should talk. Like they should say something. They should acknowledge what’s happened. They never do. They’re silent and cold. They say nothing and ignore the world outside them. They never talked about what has happened between them.

They’ve been meeting here like this for a few months.

Someone has to say something.

“Ryoga-”

“Don’t.”

Thomas scowls and turns his head, glaring are Ryoga. “You’re a stubborn bastard. We can’t just sit here in silence and pretend nothing happened.”

“I know. But let’s do it for a bit longer anyway.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. Idiot. Thomas doesn’t want to lie here and say nothing. He doesn’t want to waste time. If he wanted to ignore the issue and resolve nothing, he could do that every day, biting his cheek to keep smiling and laughing. He stands slowly and brushes himself off.

“Where are you going?” Ryoga says, sitting up.

“I don’t see any point sitting here and ignoring the issue,” Thomas replies, walking away.

“And if facing it ruins everything? What if talking about it makes it worse?” Thomas glances back and Ryoga scowls, looking away. “At least you’re here right now.”

“I won’t be for much longer,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what this is. Are we friends? Are enemies? Nothing?I don’t want to sit here in some kind of relationship limbo, Ryoga.”

Ryoga laughs and Thomas frowns. Now what? He smiles, eyes softening and brings his knees up to his chest, leaning on them as he watches Thomas. “Do you remember, Thomas? Return from Limbo?”

[attiqdemos]

it’s national eating disorder awareness week, and a lot of my friends are posting about it on facebook, but i don’t want to do that bc it feels weird so here

i had disordered eating for the last 2 years of high school. it seems more severe now than it did back then, maybe because back then i thought it was normal. okay maybe not normal--i knew it wasn’t normal--but i’d hear about the girls who dropped 60 pounds and got so sick they had to be hospitalized and fed through an iv tube and i knew that was never going to be me so i thought mine wasn’t that severe. looking back on it now, i’m honestly amazed that any part of me thought what i was doing was in any way rational. 

i never wanted to say i had anorexia; i read stuff online saying you could only have anorexia if you were underweight, so i never used that word about myself. it was just a diet, or, at worst, unhealthy eating habits. i didn’t tell anyone except three of my closest friends from other schools, because i didn’t want anyone from my school to find out for fear that they’d try to stop me, or worse yet, tell my parents. one of my friends from my school noticed something was weird and she actually reached out to one of those people that i told and it was one of the scariest days of my life even though i know it was coming from a place of love.

it was worst at the beginning of my senior year. college applications and schoolwork and honor societies and extracurriculars and band and my job and everything kind of came crashing down at once, and i wanted to feel like i had control over something at least, but i guess i overdid it. i have some strangely specific memories of that time, almost like vignettes: sitting in my first period ap gov class, not paying attention, writing out on the little calendar in my planner how many calories i would eat each day and meticulously calculating how long it’d take me to drop six pounds (according to my numbers, 25 days.) recalibrating my daily calorie counter in my head each time i took a bite of something to make sure i wouldn’t go over 700. i was obsessed with myfitnesspal; i would literally measure out half a cup of granola, weigh the amount of blueberries i put on it, to make sure i was getting accurate counts. i had the same thing at lunch every day: a handful of spinach topped with either a few berries and walnuts, half of an apple and a bit of crumbled cheddar cheese, or, if i was feeling extravagant, maybe slices of boiled egg. i drank a lot of those zero calorie fizzy water ice things for energy. i can’t even smell them anymore without feeling revulsion. 

i would flip my shit over the smallest things. i’d never eat everything that was on my dinner plate; one night, i came home from work, where i’d had a leftover salad for dinner, and my mom wanted me to finish my steak from the night before. it was three bites. i knew automatically that was about 100 calories. i’d already gone over my limit and eaten 750 that day. i couldn’t fucking eat anything else. i ended up crying over a piece of goddamn steak and making up something stupid about failing a quiz in school. whenever possible, i’d throw food out sneakily, or not eat meals and then tell my parents i had. 

i was never bulimic, which i’m really thankful for. i remember the closest i ever got to making myself throw up: after my interview at barnard, my family took me out to an indian restaurant to celebrate. indian was--is--my favorite kind of food. my dad told me i had to order everything. i did. i tried it all. i ate so much that i felt sluggish. in retrospect, it was a normal sized meal for me now, but to my artificially shrunken stomach then, it was way too much to handle. i knelt on the tile next to the toilet in the single-stall bathroom staring at the toilet water like it was taunting me. i dry heaved a couple times, stood up, brushed off my tights and walked out. 

vomiting would’ve been a step too far. later on, while i was beginning to ‘recover’ (i didn’t fully get over my issues with food until this summer), i would stand over the garbage can in my kitchen, take bites of brownies my mom made, chew them up, savor the flavor, and then spit them into a paper towel and throw them out. if we ever went out to eat, i’d look at the menus online beforehand to figure out what the lowest-calorie option was. we went to cheesecake factory once; i remember being thankful they had calorie counts for all their items online, then disgusted when i saw how high those counts were, then breathing a sigh of relief when i found an appetizer-sized portion of vegetable tacos that replaced the shell with a leaf of lettuce. it was 300 calories--half of my daily total. 

the closest i ever came to telling a medical professional was during an annual checkup during my senior year. i’d plummeted from 162 lbs, my highest weight in the summer before my sophomore year, to 134. she asked my how i did it: was it exercise? was it being on my feet at my job? i couldn’t give her an answer; i just started tearing up. i’m sure somewhere on my record there’s a note about risk for an eating disorder, but that’s all it ever was: a note. 

there was no clear-cut recovery process for me. there was no one moment where i stopped and said ‘i need to fix this.’ it was kind of just gradual; i had relapses, of course, but it generally wasn’t that bad since i came to college. i did gain a ton of weight my freshman year; it fluctuated a lot because of the all-you-can-eat meal plan, which was designed to help prevent eating disorders and food related anxiety for the students at my women’s college, but ironically ended up giving me more anxiety because of the lack of autonomy i was given over my choices of what to eat. but at some point either at the end of my second semester or the beginning of the summer, i finally stopped tallying up calories in my head. 

my weight has stabilized since then. i haven’t been on a scale in a year, but last i saw, it was something around 140, which is probably where it still is. i’m fine with that. it’s weird: i’m finally the size 6 i’d always wanted to be, but i’m not even sure how i got there. i looked in the mirror this morning and realized that somewhere along the line, i’d developed the thigh gap i’d always dreamed of; weirder yet, i found out i didn’t really care that i could see light shining through a tiny gap between my legs. i bought a crop top this summer. i still have flab on my stomach. it pokes out over the top of my jeans. i don’t care, though; i like the way i look in crop tops. i still don’t own a single pair of shorts, a remnant of my battle with my most detested body part--my thighs--but maybe this summer, i’ll finally get there. 

i don’t have tips for recovery, unfortunately. i don’t even know how i did it. i just stopped caring at some point. i have better things to worry about than some arbitrary number that’s supposed to quantify my physical being. the best thing i did, i think, is that i stopped comparing myself to other people.

it still comes and goes in waves. some days i think i’m beautiful; some days i’m fixated on my acne, my fat chin, my saggy tits, the pouch of fat above my pelvis, the cellulite dimples on my thighs. there’s nothing i can do about it. the society i live in has programmed me to notice these things. the best i can do is remember that it doesn’t define me. 

[margueritehall]

Chapter Six: The Devil’s in the Details but You Got a Friend in Me

But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm, If your cascade ocean wave blues come ( Peace ; Taylor Swift )

May 20, 2018

Maggie buzzed around the small kitchen, trying to distract herself in one of the only ways she knew how: cooking. Using a knife, she expertly chopped whatever vegetables she was able to find in the fridge before sautéing them in a pan with she’d doused with a green-golden swirl of olive oil that sizzled loudly and quickly filled the room with the fragrant aroma of garlic. She grabbed a box of pasta from the pantry and read over the label, contemplating how much to make before settling on dumping the whole box into the bubbling water that waited in the pan below. Her head bobbed to the eighties pop-rock playlist that she’d quietly turned on from her phone as a distraction.

Since leaving the hospital earlier that morning, there was no doubt that she felt better. After everything was said and done, she’d slept for almost twenty-four hours straight. Each time she’d woken up, Steve Rogers rested in the chair beside her bed, usually awake and doing mission reports but several times she’d caught him slack jaw in his sleep, his head resting back on the headrest as soft snores came from his mouth. Her sunken cheeks and eyes had been reanimated with the hydration that the IV had given her, she no longer felt like she was on the verge of collapsing where she stood, and she finally had regained an appetite.

She was on autopilot; pasta primavera had been her go-to easy meal since she was a teenager and she was certain that she could make it in her sleep so it was the perfect mindless activity to keep her busy. She’d been released on the condition that she would take it easy, and make some attempt at relaxation, before returning to work on Monday morning. She had tried to write in her journal but quickly became frustrated with the task, needing something more stimulating to keep her attention.

Never one to completely obey orders, she’d returned to her room and, after a shower to rid herself of the sterile smell from the infirmary, began unpacking her things from the brown cardboard moving boxes. Making the unfamiliar space slightly more welcoming had been a feat in itself as she hung pictures and organized her books on the shelf alphabetically. It had been an all-day event; she hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t eaten since that morning until her stomach rumbled loudly while she sat on her bed, admiring her work.

“Please tell me you made extra.” Maggie was taken from her reverie by Natasha dragging a stool out from under the table and sitting down. Crossing her forearms, she rested her chin upon them as she watched the younger brunette move around the kitchen. The two had spoken some in passing but hadn’t had much time to get to know one another.

“I definitely did.” The quiet exhale of a laugh passed through Maggie’s lips, “When was the last time you had a vegetable?”

“I had chips earlier and potatoes are a vegetable, so then.” Natasha quipped back with a shrug.

“Okay, so it’s safe to say that you don’t remember.” Maggie shook her head as she tossed the pasta and rainbow of vegetable into the creamy, lemony sauce before covering it in a healthy, heavy blanket of parmesan shavings that fell like snow.

She plated the food and slid the dish in front of Natasha who accepted it eagerly. Quickly stabbing several noodles with a fork, she unceremoniously shoved the bite in her mouth before letting out a groan of satisfaction. “This is the best thing I’ve had all week.”

Maggie grinned, spearing a piece of broccoli on her fork, “Considering that I’ve only seen you eat sandwiches or frozen pizza since I moved in, I’d hope so.” The warm food was comforting in some way; the act of cooking was always soothing to her. She always found the process of making something whole from a variety of other things, and having a tangible result in front of her, rewarding.

“Mm, where are you off to?” Maggie looked up, following Nat’s eyes to see Steve entering the common area, wearing a pair of khaki pants and a tight, white tank top with a towel tossed over his shoulder. “Hot date?”

“Yeah, with this.” He held up a razor, a tired smile on his face. He ran a hand over the facial hair that he’d been sporting over the past several years. “I think it’s time to say goodbye to this thing.”

Natasha gave a disapproving frown, before speaking around a mouthful of food, “I liked the beard.”

“Me too.” Maggie chimed in, smiling over at Steve who met her gaze. She’d seen photos of him before, always clean shaven like the military man he’d been but she’d be lying if she said that the beard wasn’t incredibly attractive for some reason.

“Maybe I’ll grow it back someday.” He chuckled, continuing his way to the bathroom.

The two women ate in a companionable silence only broken by guitar strums and synth notes from the musical stylings of The Cars. After several songs, Maggie sat up after hearing a dull rumble. She drew her eyebrows together and glanced over at Natasha, a matching expression on her face. Through the window, in the distance, Maggie caught sight of a small but bright light and a large shadow above it as the dull noise grew to a roar, beginning to shake the building. “What the hell is that?”

Natasha was already grabbing her jacket, quickly making her way outside. Maggie followed in suit, seeing Pepper far ahead of everyone as Rhodey, Steve, and Bruce made their way out to see what the commotion was as well. The six of them stood near the landing area of the grounds, waiting with bated breath as they watched what looked like a glowing woman slowly help a large spacecraft come to rest on the ground after the landing gears deployed.

A ramp opened from the bottom of the ship and two figures stood at the top, illuminated from behind as it slowly unfolded. Without a doubt, it was Tony. A robot-like woman with blue skin helped to hold the frail man up as they carefully made their way to solid ground. Her breath caught in her throat and she watched as Steve and Pepper took off in a sprint towards them. She felt like she couldn’t move, a hiccup of a soft sob breaking through her lips as Rhodey gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. He was home. Although worse for wear, Tony had somehow beat the odds and come back to them.

May 21, 2018

“Uncle T,” Maggie stood from the chair she’d been residing in for the past hour, exasperated as she followed the sickly man who’d somehow gotten someone to bring him a wheelchair, then decided he needed to talk to everyone else at the compound. “What the fuck are you doing?” She grabbed the tower to which his IV was attached and put a hand on the back of the chair as he attempted to get away, rolling her eyes and mumbling, “Pepper is going to kick my ass.” Quickly, she moved the drip bag to the chair’s attached pole and made sure it hung securely before ensuring the coast was clear.

“She’ll know it was my idea.” Tony gave a small shrug, silently grateful that he didn’t have to exert his already limited energy to push himself across the building.

Maggie took the handles and pushed him through the halls, keeping her eyes peeled for any nurses that would be unhappy with his silent departure. “Where did you want to go, anyway?”

“Living area. I need some type of nutrition that isn’t liquid,” He gave a disdainful look at the IV bag, “And I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get everyone there.”

“When did you have time to do that!?” She raised an eyebrow though he couldn’t see her, shaking her head.

Maybe she was just like Tony, never knowing when to rest.

“When you were telling the nurse she didn’t know how to do a mental status examination and stole my chart.” His response was quick; if the examination hadn’t been conclusive, she could tell that his faculties were obviously still intact.

“She was doing it wrong.” Maggie defended while slowly rolling him backwards into the elevator, careful not to shake him too much. She knew he hated being treated like he was fragile but she’d never seen him look quite so sickly.  

“Was she? Or did you just want to do it yourself?” She could almost hear the smirk in his voice when he quipped back.

“Shut up.” She grumbled, no longer having a defense as the ding let them know that they’d already ascended.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, young lady. I’m on my deathbed, or in my death chair—” He struggled to look back over his shoulder at her and, although he was only trying to make a joke, Maggie felt a pit drop in her stomach.

She stopped short, turning his chair so he could see her stern expression as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” He bowed his head, feeling moderately guilty for the joke as the young woman reprimanded him in the empty lift, “I know you’re kidding but you’re not dying. Not now, not anytime soon. Get it?”

“Got it.” He nodded, acquiescing her request.

“Good.” She gave a short nod before pushing him out through the doors and walking him down the hall in a tense silence before she finally broke it. “If you’re done being a drama queen, I’ll make you lunch.”

“Thank god.”

“It’s gonna be bland because you’re still delicate and I’m not dealing with you if you get sick.” She teased, only half-joking with the older man as she parked him at the table between the living area and kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s a fair trade.” He shrugged.

She turned on the stove, quickly grabbing a pan and soup from the fridge that she’d made a day or two earlier. As she sliced some bread, she glanced over at him, rubbing his tired eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses. In the moment, she couldn’t help but realize exactly how similar she was to her pseudo-uncle. Losing their parents before they’d really gotten a chance to know them. Always using false confidence and humor to mask past trauma and the constant fear of failure. Never not working.

Sitting the bowl and plate in front of him, she gave a gentle pat to his shoulder before the ruins of the tattered team filled in. Standing aside, she watched as they got down to brass tacks. The already-tense conversation quickly took a turn, Tony’s irritation radiating around the room and filling any empty space that it could. She winced as the clattering sound of glass broke the mostly quiet room before Tony ripped his IV from his arm and continued his rampage, finally standing precariously on his own.

As he tried to make his way to Steve, she was grateful that Rhodey grasped his arms, holding him up in an attempt to reason with him. She looked down at the table in front of her, listening as he pushed past his old friend to continue towards the man he had once considered to be one. Standing, she watched anxiously as he gripped the glowing apparatus in the middle of his chest and pulled it off forcefully, shoving it into Steve’s hand. While Tony spoke, she watched Steve’s expression flicker between regret and hurt, the lines on his forehead deepening with each blow given by Tony before he dropped to the floor. In a flash, Maggie made her way across the room just in time to see him fall over on his side, unmoving.

She hadn’t even had time to respond before he’d been returned to the hospital wing, that Maggie was now well-acquainted with, only minutes after he’d fallen. Pepper had met them there, Maggie looking properly reprimanded by her for letting him leave to begin with. “Just keep me in the loop.” She sighed softly, rubbing Tony’s arm gently as she gestured to the waiting room. With a nod, Maggie made her way out, following behind as the defenders of the universe discussed their next course of action.

In the evening after listening to their plans, she made her way back to the hospital room through the maze of hallways and doors. Through the glass, she saw Tony still asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath he took. With her head resting on her arms, leaned over the bed, was Pepper. Knocking gently on the door, she saw the older woman startle slightly before sitting up and waving her in.

Maggie didn’t completely enter the room. She felt like she’d had enough of this area for a lifetime and elected to stay by the door, relaying the information she’d gathered. Her voice was soft, not wanting to wake the exhausted man who was deep within the trenches of sleep, “They know where he is, that Thanos guy.” She still had a hard time believing any of this was real: aliens, other world, traveling through space. “They’re going to find him. They think that maybe they can fix everything; make it the way that it was before.”

Pepper nodded, taking the information in stride as she brushed a hand over Tony’s scruffy face. Maggie looked up to the ceiling with her eyes closed, silently sending a prayer to a god, that she didn’t believe in, that the team could do it— that they could fix this mistake. But after the sun had come and gone the following day and the team returned with their heads hung low, she knew that this was finally it.

This was defeat.

[cosmicboredomworld-blog]

Supernovae

It was cold.

That's what he remembered most, the air was cold, the ground was cold, the people were cold.

He remembered running. His legs ached with it, a starch contrast from the biting wind and slicing snow. His skin felt like it was always bleeding, though there were no wounds to corroborate this. His arms and back were stiff from shivering, unable to move more than necessary. Hair was not something he could even be thankful for, but what little was there kept his ears from falling off from frostbite.

But there was the gate, and so to was some semblance of warmth. If even it was only the fact they were all crammed together in such a small clearing.

His feet hurt, from blistering and running, the bandages were nothing to stop the flame of infection. Every step caused great pain and he stumbled as they all slowed almost to a stop before continuing at a torturously slow pace. It was pure agony to feel his weight- meager as it was- on his heels, shifting to walk was Hell incarnate.

As a mindless, shapeless crowd, they marched in time to a beat only the dead could hear. Past iron-wrought gates, and dark shadows of men lined in heavy, dark linen. Through mud and sand, and into a severe-looking encampment. He dared not look up, so as not to catch any eyes, fearful of the beatings that would ensue after such indiscretions. The war had taught him well.

The wind picked up and stole whatever heat they had managed to gain, leaving him shivering and his fingers numb. They passed open swathes of farmland and train tracks, he saw black carrion birds circling in the sky somewhere above the grass. There were heavy clouds behind them, a harbinger of more cold, more death, more disease. To the left, he saw the bleak, red brick buildings that would serve as their home. It was a testament to the elements that he was glad to see them.

But even as he watched the buildings grow large, he knew he would not be leaving this place. For he was hallucinating the bright yellow glow over the place, he was sure of it. The sun was long since hidden by thick cloud to produce anything like that light.

But light, to him, meant warmth and rest. He was going to die there in that warmth.

It was better than freezing to death.

He stumbled along in his herd, mindless as the sick sheep that follow along so as not to be picked off by ravenous wolves, until suddenly, as one, they stopped. They were being filed in, now. Made to stand in rows, as their numbers were called, and made to wait for any relief. In the shadow's eyes, they were expendable like that.

The standing hurt most, and he was forced to lean on his right foot. His left was on fire.

At a shuffling pace, they were packed into the small, fenced clearing as the sun continued to dip towards night. The ground here was warm, as if a hundred million feet had left there impressions behind, he could feel it through the rough cloth wrappings. Numbers were called out, the words familiar in his ears but just barely. Five years of hearing his identification numbers made it easy to associate, his head lifted when he heard them, but his eyes were fixed on the ground. He wished they would bury him in it.

The glow he saw earlier had grown smaller as they approached, and even now it was getting smaller, as if it was moving to him instead. He waited, sure that this angel would wait for a proper time to steal him away. But the light just shifted to another color as it got closer, to a bright, almost sky blue. He didn't want to die right here in front of everyone and these shadows, the light mesmerized him to the point of not caring.

The light was moving! It was moving towards them, and was obscured by bodies. When it stopped, wavering like a little star, he strained to see it through the crowd, wondering not for the first time if it was looking for him, if it was real, what it would do to him if it was. No one else was looking at it, no one dared to, he was probably breaking a thousand rules beat into his subconscious. But only he could see it.

It started a slow circle around the crowd, looking for something, someone, him. The flicker of it could be seen even as he gathered his senses and turned his face downward.

What was it? It wasn't any kind of electric light he had seen, it was far too clear to be firelight, and what kind of wood would turn the fire blue? These questions raised more questions, from which arose ever-more questions.

Roll call was over, a medic would be sent out to examine each of them. Those too close to death would be sent to the infirmary, the rest were put to work. He was not surprised when the medic sniffed at him pompously and made a mark on his list. He knew he looked like the dead walking, because he felt like the dead and here he stood. A shadow escorted him across the clearing, where another line had already formed, though not as thick as the one going to Nordhausen. The light was nowhere to be seen.

Here, in Mittelbau, would be his final stop.

This group was small, but not too small. Others looked better than he, and even more looked worse.

They were moved to a large building, where the doors were made of metal, and the floors were tile. Outside, everything was red. Inside was white and clean, no personal items, no paintings, no plants. The air was stiff with cleaner, and each bed was crisp like paper. They were put five to a room, some were taken to other rooms for first aid. That was his most obvious sign that he, indeed, would perish.

He forced his arms to move, they cracked and popped at the joints, but he forced them to pull him onto the bed, to alleviate his tired legs and sore feet. But that was all he could ask of them, and his legs hung over the side of the bed, he was too tired to correct himself.

And he wanted just a few more minutes before he laid down and never woke up again.

The air was warm, he could feel that now, he shivered from the cold in his bones. The sheets were starched cotton, good for sanitization. His fellows didn't look as bad as he did, perhaps they would survive.

His thoughts, his final thoughts, were interrupted by the door opening and a male nurse stepping into the room.

He spoke Polish. “Good evening, Juden. I am Edward, I will be speaking to each of you momentarily.” Then repeated it in German, and in the harsher Slovak languages, of which he could never decipher without the first two translations.

It surprised him, in other infirmaries, no nurse had ever spoken to him during his time in them. And he'd been in far better conditions then.

Edward took his time with each patient, and Jakob expected less when it came to him, his issues were plain, he was dying. But the brunette man was all smiles and kind words, asking him which language he preferred, asking him to describe every pain, when he'd last eaten, how far he'd ran, where he was coming from, where he lived originally. It was the most invasive experience he'd had in five years.

“Good, I will inform the doctor and he should begin your treatment soon.” Edward said when he had seemed to fill his pad with notes on just him. “One last question, do you have a name? I'd like to put it next to your identification number for the doctor.”

He blinked, slow and quiet. Did he have a name anymore?

“Jakob.” He rasped and the air from his lungs was too hot.

“And your last name?”

He closed his eyes. “Mudë.”

“You are German?”

“Yes.” He opened his eyes, maybe they would write his record for others to find. Maybe he wouldn't be forgotten.

Edward smiled sadly and capped his pen. “So young, what could you have done to end up here?”

“I- my father.” He breathed. “He was an enemy of the state.”

“Ah, so you first went to Auschwitz.”

“Yes.”

“There have been numerous outbreaks of Typhus there, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to inform the doctor. It may result in quarantine, but do not be alarmed, it is for the safety of all present.” Edward said in a clinical tone, but he accompanied it with a smile. “We are experienced with taking care of the problem before it begins to spread. So worry not, friend. You will be healthy in no time.”

He nodded, he didn't have the heart to tell Edward that he was already slipping away. Edward made a few more notes and left him with a frown, continuing on his scheduled route. He sagged and breathed out.

His eyes were closed, and he felt a hand on his back, causing him to gasp and open his eyes again, to blinding light.

“Is this him?” A deep voice asked, he couldn't focus enough to look around, to see.

“Yes, he was in Auschwitz during the Typhus outbreak in ‘39.” Edward said, appearing in his sight, the brown hair looked soft and feathery.

“He's barely conscious,” the other voice sounded grim. “Get him in the containment room anyway. It'll allow him room to breathe and I will begin his treatment plan right away.”

Edward's hands were steady as they lifted him, off the bed and into the air, and the lights passed him as he was carried down the hall.

“He looks like he is on death's door.” The other voice said in the silence.

“No, his blood pressure is too stable. It may just be an infection.” Edward's voice rumbled into his body, he was being held close to offer warmth. Was this pity?

A door opened and so did his eyes as they let him down on a cool bed. He groaned, a meek thing since he'd hardly used his voice these days. They stretched him out and pulled the covers over him and the warmth seeped from his body into the mattress.

“He looks no older than fifteen…” the other voice wondered.

“He says twenty. With no previous medical records saying otherwise, we cannot confirm or deny.” Edward sounded like he was reading from his pad again.

“Get him on an IV, he needs a shot of penicillin, and then he can sleep on Morphine.” The doctor- or so he assumed- said. “With that, he'll survive the night.”

He almost screamed at them, but he couldn't speak very well with exhaustion setting in. He couldn't move to get their attention either. He didn't want to survive the night. He deserved to die in his sleep.

“The Commandant would want to hear about this. He would flay you if you kept a Typhus carrier without his knowledge.” Edward was saying, to which the doctor snorted.

“Go ahead and tell him. He knows I would never endanger this city.” The doctor harrumphed. “Make sure he is taken care of, the Commandant also likes to keep his workers alive. His death would be on your hands then.”

There was no way someone like Edward would let him pass in his sleep. The man was too polite, too gentle to leave him neglected, and whatever policies were upheld here were obviously punishable by some sort of social death should one break protocol. He sighed heavily, they would not let him rest. Not really.

The needle in his arm was a slight shock, but his exhaustion had deadened a significant amount of his nerves to make it seem more pleasant. The oddity of the metal in his flesh was uncomfortable but he couldn't do anything if he wanted to. Edward rolled him over a bit and pulled the covers back. Another needle to the curve of his rear, and this one hurt.

“Penicillin,” Edward explained quietly, as if he wasn't sure whether he was heard. “It will hurt but not much, and not for long.”

Jakob whimpered as he was rolled back, the covers replaced. His whole body hurt like it had been run over and dragged hundreds of miles. The needle in his arm shifted and suddenly he was groggy.

“Sleep, the Commandant will see you in the morning.” Edward said to him, and the door then his eyes closed.

[themoneybuff-blog]

The Balance Between Novelty and Stability - and How That Affects Your Dollars and Cents

Recently, I had a face-to-face conversation with a reader (yep, this happens every once in a while; I have a few readers in my local community that Im not close friends with, but they recognize me and seem to always have some sort of question or topic to bring up in conversation) about the idea of having everyday meals for the family, something I mention often as a frugal strategy. For those unclear, an everyday meal is just a meal that Sarah or I can prepare quickly and easily on any given weeknight that our family really likes. You might call it a staple meal or a regular meal. For us, those meals include things like spaghetti with tomato sauce, scrambled eggs and pancakes, chili, and tuna casserole. Both Sarah and I can whip those things out in a jiffy without even a second thought; the recipes are internalized and efficient. This reader was pretty pointed: dont meals like that get boring? My gut instinct was to tell the reader no without really thinking about it, but instead I said, Hmm Ill give that some thought, and suggested a post on the topic might appear soon. Over the next few weeks, I had some conversations with my family about the topic in a roundabout way. I mostly just asked for meal suggestions and asked what meals they liked the best. Our three children were all pretty specific on what meals they liked the best. My youngest loves any sort of pasta and cheese combination if it has pasta and cheese, hes in. My middle child loves taco night above all else. My oldest loves chili and enchiladas above all else. Interestingly, if I have them pick a meal that they think all three of them will like, theyll pick pizza, whether its homemade or picked up somewhere. My wife listed a litany of meals she really likes. I asked them what they thought about trying different meals and the children were all okay with it as long as their favorites remained in regular rotation and I avoided certain specific foods. My wife is more on board with trying new things, but she also still wanted a few favorites in rotation. They all said that they like to try variations on the familiar dishes, like trying a chili variant or experimenting with a pizza, than something radically different. It turns out that Im probably the most adventurous and experimental eater in my family, but even I enjoy our everyday meals. I actually like varying them a little and trying new angles on the same old things (like experimenting with cheeses for the mac and cheese) and, when I have time, making things as from scratch as possible, like making fresh pasta for pasta night or making from-scratch bread or making my own vegetable stock (just soaking vegetable scraps in the slow cooker). This realization, along with some Google searching, led me to this interesting article on Food52 by Amanda Hesser entitled Im the Food Expert, But My Kids Love My Husbands Cooking. Her experience falls right in line with my own: Her family is fine with experimentation, but they end up putting a lot of value on regular repeated family meals. Theyd rather have daddys pasta (rotelle pasta wagon wheels with a simple sauce) than something unusual or complex, and she often would, too: Im an unabashed homebody. A comforting home and stability are things I have an almost desperate need to maintain. And yet, even when I have a home that feels comforting and right, Im always itching to iterate and improve the physical spaceto paint a wall, rearrange the furniture, recover the chairs. The same thing happens in my kitchen. I may love being in the kitchen and cooking for family, but I clearly cant help myself from exploring some new taste, technique, or idea. This urge for newness and evolution worked for me for many years. When I was a full-time writer, whose job was to constantly discover and write about whats next, it was like feeding candy to my pathology. Now that I have kids, though, to whom I feel an intense responsibility to nurture a sense of security not to mention, to establish family traditions my searching ways floundered. The night after the podcast interview, while joking about it over dinner, I asked the kids what dishes of mine they liked. They paused and looked at each other. It was difficult for them to conjure up anything specific. Kids rarely need to be direct for their message to be loud and clear. If I wanted them to remember my cooking, I had to slow down, I had to repeat, I had to make food that they could count on. Like their daddy did with pasta. Over the past few years, Ive done just this. Ive stuck with dishes, and I keep a folder of recipes we like to go back to again and again Robertas garlic dressing, porchetta, and Thai steak salad. This made me think quite a bit about my own change in food habits during my life. When I was growing up, my family definitely had regular meals that we repeated with frequency. Im sure, looking back, that those meals were fairly convenient for my parents to make and that doing so had become, with practice, quite easy for them. There was another factor going on, though: it provided a touchstone of shared experience. There were certain dishes that we would have frequently that I would love to smell coming in the door, not just because they were delicious, but because they made me feel things like family and safety and comfort. When I reached adulthood, that feeling basically went away unless I was visiting family. I either viewed food simply as forgettable fuel or I purely chased novelty by eating at a wide variety of expensive restaurants or preparing really fancy things at home on occasion, like a $30 grilled steak. For all of the expensive meals I ate in my twenties, none of them filled me with the sense of familiarity and comfort that my mothers humble tuna casserole would make me feel, or the smell of a fried egg cooked in just a bit of butter with a lot of black pepper on it. Those things made me feel something beyond mere food they made me feel safe and loved and comfortable. An expensive meal might be delicious, but its usually a one-shot thing simply because of the financial constraints of 99.9% of Americans. Thus, it can never create those feelings of home like humble dishes eaten frequently with loved ones can create. Theres a clip at the end of the movie Ratatouille where the hardened food critic Anton Ego takes a bit of a dish prepared by the humble hero Remy. The dish is the titular ratatouille, a pretty humble dish thats basically just a casserole of sliced vegetables, and Ego initially turns up his nose at it. But when he takes a bite well, watch for yourself: [embedded content] What does this hardened critic think of when he tries the dish? His mind doesnt consider flavors or texture. Rather, he flashes back to his grandmothers kitchen when he was a child. He has feelings of peace and love and comfort and family. Those feelings dont exist the first time you try a dish or even the third or fifth or tenth. Rather, they come from a body of positive experiences over time, and they can be triggered by the most humble of things. You dont need an expensive restaurant meal to feel those feelings; in fact, youll almost never feel that way unless youre a regular at a family-owned restaurant. On the other hand, you can get that feeling from something as simple as an egg fried in a bit of butter with a bit of black pepper on it. Were really talking here about two different values that are at least somewhat in opposition to each other. Novelty comes when you try a new experience. Youre interacting with new people. Youre trying a new meal. Youre going to a new store. Youre going to a new place. Those are enjoyable experiences our brains like novelty. Yet, at the same time, novel experiences dont last. They dont scratch the same itch that familiar experiences do. Stability, on the other hand, comes when you enjoy a familiar experience of some kind. Youre enjoying time with family or close friends. Youre eating a family favorite meal. Youre hanging out at a familiar haunt. Those are also enjoyable experiences and familiarity breeds enjoyment. Such experiences fulfill us in a completely different way than novelty does. Whats really interesting to note here is that novelty is typically more expensive than familiarity. New products come with a price premium. They require additional travel because youre familiar with the things in your area. Restaurants you havent tried before are often the expensive ones because youve already tried all of the regularly priced ones. This is not to say novelty is always more expensive than stability, but that its frequently the case. What does all of this mean in terms of our finances, then? First of all, its easier to be frugal if you have an appreciation for familiar experiences. If you hold familiar experiences in disdain or if your life history has made it difficult to build up familiar experiences, its hard to find appeal in them and youre going to inherently seek novelty. Remember, the psychological benefit of novelty is much easier to enjoy than the psychological benefit of stability and familiarity. Novelty can be experienced at pretty much any moment; stability and familiarity take time and a history of positive similar experiences. So, in a practical sense, there is a great deal of frugal value in finding simple experiences you like and repeating them (or close variations on them) until the familiarity brings additional joy. For example, Ive come to love sitting in the soft brown chair in our house with several windows nearby and just reading a book. It is an experience I indulge in often and I get a great amount of joy out of that experience, not just because it feels good, but because it inherently reminds me of the many moments when it felt good in the past. It feels comforting to sit there with a book in my hand. I feel it when Im playing a familiar board game with close friends, where we all know the rules and we all feel comfortable with each other. I feel it when Im making a pot of chili or a homemade pizza for my family and then we gather around the table and eat it together and talk about our day. I feel that warm stability in many experiences in my life, and Ive come to intentionally notice it and value it. Those types of experiences, because of their repetition, almost have to be very inexpensive or free out of necessity. If there was a significant cost in such a repeated experience, it would cause a great deal of financial damage, which brings me to my second point. Constantly chasing novel experiences is hard on the wallet. If I want to eat at a new restaurant every night, thats going to cost a lot of money over time. If I want to simply have something new for dinner every night, the cost of all of those different ingredients is going to add up (not to mention the time invested in constantly jumping from culinary technique to culinary technique without mastering any of them). If I want to read the latest books constantly, Im going to have to buy them, and popping $15 to $20 for a new hardcover once or twice a week adds up fast. If I want to play the latest board games constantly, I have to routinely spend $30 to $40. If I want to watch the latest movies constantly, I have to routinely spend $10 or $15 at the theater (Id probably buy a movie pass, but it still adds up). You get the idea. A constant stream of novel experiences is expensive. Theres an even bigger problem A costly novel experience that you start to repeat until it takes on some aspects of familiarity is a road to financial disaster. Lets say you go to a coffee shop and its a wonderful novel experience. You decide to go again and again and again. Slowly, it starts to become a familiar and stable experience. You feel a certain comfort in that routine. The problem is that the routine is expensive and engaging in it with frequency is like acid on your budget. Another element Ive personally noticed is that most of the really valuable stable experiences I have in my life things like familiar family dinners, familiar experiences with friends, and so on are incredibly inexpensive ones. The family dinners that are really successful on all cylinders are ones where were gathered around the table with people we love and who love us, eating a food we all enjoy and basking in the afterglow of many such dinners before us that have built a certain bond. You can get some of that while chasing novelty at the latest restaurant, but you miss some of it, too, and youre also hammering your wallet. None of this is to say that novelty doesnt have value. It does have tremendous value. Many of the joys of life are held in new experiences. Yet there are many elements of life that novelty cant bring to the table and cultivating stability often provides those elements. If you take one message home from all of this, its that novelty is fine, but theres a tremendous financial value in appreciating the positive stable experiences in life. Find the small things you actually enjoy (not things that merely pass time), whether theyre shared experiences or solo experiences, and fill your life with them. Repeat them, so that they take on a sense of familiarity and stability. Vary them, so that they dont become boring, either you wouldnt read the same book over and over or watch the same television show over and over, but you might consistently read in your favorite chair or watch a new episode of a beloved program while cuddling with your partner. Dont abandon novelty that would make life dull but dont overlook or abandon the many values of stability and what it can bring, too. Enjoy that simple comfort food with family. Enjoy that comfortable chair and a book from the library from your favorite author. Theres incredible value to be found in that kind of stability and it wont erode your finances. Good luck. Related Articles: https://www.thesimpledollar.com/the-balance-between-novelty-and-stability-and-how-that-affects-your-dollars-and-cents/

[tales-from-exo-planet]

Almaty

Part IV

Nothin’ Else

“I was just walking that day aimlessly (Oh, oh no) You picked a perfect day to bump into me Probably should've watched the stars in the sky the night before But for some reason we still met at your store Your eyes have a story that they wish to tell And I have my whole life and I listen well Look, I'll be your confidant Tell me anything But please start it off with how you tuck your wings”

-”Nothin’ Else” by Justin Timberlake-

“So _____, we’re finally off for the day. What are you up to tonight?” Your coworker asked as you both packed up your desks for the day.

You had just finished another necessary purge of confidential documents that had begun 8pm the previous evening.

You hadn’t moved from your perch unless you desperately needed to use the restroom.

“Tonight and for the rest of this weekend, I will be a ghost. No one and I mean no one will be able to find me,” you teased as you winked at her on your way down the Embassy steps and out onto the busy street.

“I know you’re just joking but it’s kind of weird when you say things like that. Considering the kind of information that we have access to….please don’t say things like that,” your coworker shuddered, looking as if she was about to vomit.

“Well, then give me an idea of how I should put it? How should I entertain myself?” You asked as you linked arms with her.

She grinned up at you, her eyes full of stars.

“You could finally agree to a double date with me tonight! Aniyar has been asking about you. You deserve to have someone treat you for once. We’ll go dancing. You’ll see! It could be so much fun!” By the look in her eyes, you could already tell that she’d chosen an outfit and had some suggestions about what you would wear on your night out.

“But I do have plans to dance. And I have someone else waiting on me at home,” you winked back at her, feeling a little sorry when she started to frown.

“But dancing around an oily, dingy mess of car parts isn’t the ideal night for someone who is still single after all this time….we don’t have the rest of our lives…” She frowned up at you.

You shrugged.

“This is why we’re balanced. You regale me with your tales of blissful engagement and I scandalize you with my wild tales of singledom!” You laughed aloud when her frown set deeper in her features.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” she whispered, as she tried to pull her arm from yours.

You pulled her closer, giving her cheek a wet kiss.

“But I’m not alone. I have you, I have our citizens that we care for. Besides you haven’t seen this handsome devil. You’d be rushing home too if you knew what you were missing,” you winked again but it didn’t have the same effect. She wasn’t buying into it this time.

“With all that we see….with all that we hear about...you don’t want to find a slice of paradise for yourself?” She had stopped in the street, just before the crosswalk to the parking lot where your vehicles waited.

You tugged her along but she rooted herself there, demanding an answer from you.

Tears welled in her eyes as she waited for your answer.

“Why are you such a blubbering mess today? I promised you that I would come with you later this weekend to help you figure out which desserts to serve. If you hadn’t noticed, I left quite a lot of meals untouched these past couple of days so I could help you with a proper tasting,” you sniffed, folding your arms across your chest indignantly, but mostly to balance the weight of your purse. It bumped against your stomach as you brought your arms up and you regretted the action as it reminded you of how much you hadn’t eaten.

“You know very well that it’s not about that…” she muttered, her frown melting into a whiny pout. You rolled your eyes.

“Listen. I’m fine. I don’t have to be hearing wedding bells to be joyful. I’ll leave that to you for now, ok? Besides….Aniyar is so….” You pretended to think of a word to describe just what you thought of him. He was a kind guy. Someone anyone would want to be set up with. But you had your own ambitions. You had your own goals….and you didn’t want just anyone. The reality that you could choose just anyone on the street. That you could mold your life with any man who approached you and just start a life with them was terrifying. And seeing how many marriages didn’t make it past the embassy steps after a couple months….you knew the type of man you wanted wasn’t someone that was ordinary at all. If you chose anyone at all.

“He’s a good guy, ______. If not him, then maybe someone….someday?” She asked, her eyes hopeful that she could lock you in and get you to commit to that.

Now you started pouting.

She laughed, covering her mouth as she stood there looking at you.

“I told you that I have someone waiting for me at home! You will not keep me from him! I promised him hours of my devotion! And that starts right now whether you’re ok with that or not!” You playfully stomped away to cross the street and then made a beeline for your motorcycle.

After clasping your helmet underneath your chin and then securing your purse, you threw a leg over your bike and started walking it.

She came up just as you were getting ready to speed off.

She grabbed her helmet that she always used from the back of your bike and pulled her skirt down, bunching the fabric into a knot in the front and fitted it in behind you as she hopped on, wrapping her arms around your waist.

Knocking her helmet gently against yours, you were given your signal that you could head out.

You dropped her off first to her fiance’s place, as always.

“I’ll just tell Aniyar that you had other plans,” she sighed as she secured the second helmet behind you.

You shrugged, knowing that even though she couldn’t see you rolling your eyes that she knew that you were.

“Tell those scraps of parts that I hope they keep you warm at night!” She muttered, eyeing you purposefully before heading up the steps.

You lifted the screen of your helmet to shout back at her.

“Oh! I will!” Only to see her wave before shutting the door.

You shrugged once more, shaking your head as if to say “whatever” before you pushed off and headed home to your place.

“Hello darling, did you miss me?!” You called serenely as soon as you hit the doors.

The whirring of your appliances was the only sound that responded to you.

“I missed you too. I’ll be right there once I clean up. You won’t believe the day I had!” You groaned, full of theatrics.

After showering and washing up your hair, you set it in a towel atop your head while you took a look at your mail.

You made yourself a small glass of red wine while you read through the usual bills and made shorthand notes on the calendar you kept in the kitchen before you then checked your phone for any updates.

A certain name in your notifications made you grin immediately.

“Hey ______. Can you call me when you’re available? There’s a project I think you’d be really interested in and I could use your help. Hope all is well with you.” She sounded horrible. Could the project have something to do with what made her call in such a state?

You were too curious not to call her even at this hour.

“Hello?” She rasped when she answered.

“Hey-o. So I just got your message. What’s the deal?” You asked, taking a clandestine sip of your wine.

“So Minseok and a few of his associates are in the works of starting this multinational company-”

“Ah Seokie darling. How is that handsome man?” You asked, hearing her deliberate pause.

“He’s doing fine-”

“Not driving you into the grave I hope? You were always one to stick it out,” you mused as you headed towards your garage which was just outside of the kitchen.

“Ha ha,” she laughed sarcastically.

“What? You’re the one calling as if you’ve come back from the other side. You sound horrible love,” you said as you flicked on the lights and admired the handsome devil you’d been waiting all night to see.

“Well thanks. It’s so nice to hear from you too,” she wasn’t in the mood from the tone of voice she suddenly took on.

“Alright. Sore spot. I’m sorry. How can I help you?” You asked as you removed the sheet you’d placed over him before you left.

You had been tinkering with creating an electric sports car for months in between repairs you did for family, friends and walk-ins. The design plans were posted just behind the car and your tool desk was a mess but the thrill you got from discovering how much closer you were to completing your design was indescribable. Definitely kept you warm at night.

“Well….I know you have expertise as an international legal advisor although for some reason you insist on moonlighting as a consular officer at the German Embassy there-”

“I’m not moonlighting. I work as an economic advisor primarily. But I do like to dip my toe into different pools and feel the temperature differences,” you sniffed as you ran your hand along the outer frame of your baby boy.

“Well you were trained as an international legal advisor...I don’t understand why you wouldn’t-”

“Because...you get bored. And I wanted to try something else..plus my dad needed me home,” you sighed as you looked back up to your work table where his picture would always be.

“I’m sorry about that, again,” she said sincerely and you shrugged even though you knew she couldn’t see you.

“He’s at peace now. Cancer can’t hurt him anymore,” you said as you reached for your glass of wine and took the rest of it straight down before heading back in to pour another glass.

“And besides. Mom and everyone else want me to stay home for a little bit. What do you know? I guess they missed me while I was abroad gallivanting about with all of you rowdy people,” you laughed and she did too. You had great memories of your time spent in school with Minseok and ______ (Minseok’s VP.) Speaking of….

“So did you ever confess?” You asked suddenly, popping the cork off once more to pour your glass.

She went into a coughing fit.

“I mean I know you’re sick...but you don’t have to put on a show for me. It’s just a question,” you said as you took a sip and headed back in, putting on your shop slippers as you passed through the kitchen door this time.

“There was nothing to confess,” she choked out and you heard her take some calming sips of water before she continued on. “Minseok was the one who needed to confess and...look this is besides the point. I know you’re busy but I don’t need the run around right now down memory lane...things have gotten off track and I need help.” She insisted.

“I never considered not helping. You know that I like to tease,” you simpered into your glass hearing her scoff.

“And what’s gotten out of hand? It’s only nice when everyone is showing their cards. I can’t be the only naked one at the table,” you humphed and she laughed in spite of herself.

“Are you Minseok’s leading lady now anyway?” You asked before she could cut in.

“Yes. It’s official now-”

“Finally. So he has you operating the sails and all...what do you need us lowly crew members to pitch in?” You adopted a pirate-esque tone, something like Gibbs from Pirates of the Caribbean hearing her dissolve into laughter again.

“I need you to help me keep the wind in our sails so we can continue flying high. We’re not staying on terra firma and we certainly aren’t keeping to the rocky waves either. We’d like to soar higher than ever before.” Had Minseok finally put a ring on her finger too? Was she his leading lady in every way? She sounded EXACTLY like him.

“All of these flying references again. I tell you, he should have been an aviator the way he carries us all away like that,” you mused as you looked at your designs.

“Please don’t. I don’t need to accidentally let that slip and then there he goes again and here I am trying to catch him...I can’t,” she groaned and not jokingly either.

“Alright. Alright. I get it. Joke time is over. So how serious is this commitment that I’m making?” You asked and she laid out the details for you.

The position would require you to look after ten countries in total while also considering the global market simultaneously.

You may or may not be able to stay in Almaty while managing these companies and the job would start in a couple of weeks after you completed a presentation for Minseok about the risks and benefits currently involved.

“You didn’t have someone on board for this already before you decided to institute world domination?” She mumbled something under her breath about “just say yes or no already.”

“I’m just asking. I want to know how important it was that you just had to call me,” you were really getting a kick out of grinding her gears though you could tell she was pressed for time. Maybe your coworker was right. Something other than the hum of your tools while you worked on your baby boy needed to materialize to keep you warm at night. Your sarcasm was starting to dig its teeth in a little too deep.

“We had a bit of a problem last autumn and then again a couple months back. I’m sure you heard about Minseok’s board...and so I had to do a bunch of re-hires and they were settled but then I fell ill during our planning meeting with the board and I need help juggling things right now. You were the first person on my list to call. I can’t trust anyone else,” she wasn’t sugar coating anything and you knew she meant it sincerely. You delighted in the details you were able to tease out of her slowly.

“It sounds worthwhile. Can you shoot me an email with all of the products and any samples you have so I can start looking into things...and my phone is already chiming so I’m assuming you had the email drafted already you sly minx,” you laughed as you checked your phone to see that she certainly had just shot you an email with all of the information you just requested and more.

“What a peach you are! Still hunkering down in your basement and hacking away at it, are you?” She shot back and you guffawed heartily.

“There she is! See it only took you a little while before you were back to your old self. So ten countries huh? Including Germany. Does my sample package include VIP tickets to Erhabenheit then? And a night in the penthouse with Seokie? I so need to “spread my wings” according to my coworkers. Dusty, dingy mechanic fingernails are not the exact accessories needed to woo suitors around here,” you sighed sarcastically and you knew she was rolling her eyes.

“I guess you didn’t look through the whole email. Clear those mechanic goggles for a minute and check out the rest of the details,” she said and you did, finding details about your hotel reservations and events in the city you’d been booked for upon your arrival.

“I guess this means I’ll have to work out a leave of absence or something of that sort, unless this could be another hat I could try on for as long as I like?” you asked and she coughed though she did answer yes.

“Wonderful,” you said and began placing on your gloves, ready to end the call.

“One of the companies may start where you are, _______. I’ll have to tell you about that later. All of the details about each company headquarters are in that email. Call me tomorrow when you’ve had a night to sleep on it,” she said, coughing a little more after drinking something.

“But I already said yes! You gave me what I wanted. There’s nothing else to consider,” you said, fitting your fingers inside the familiar material. The rush of exhilaration that shot over your skin at the way the fabric molded against your hands was everything.

“Just think about it. I want you to be sure. You’re in a great position right now. And I know you want to be home considering what’s happened not too long ago. There’s no need to rush off. You can just come visit us if you’re really just in it for Erhabenheit. And I can set you up for dates if you’re really looking for suitors,” she sounded like she was smirking and you couldn’t help smirking as well.

“Well then I guess you’ll have to look for dates for the both of us….unless Minseok has a friend he could set me up with. That’s the only proper double date I will consider,” you said, hearing her gasp in shock.

“You really won’t quit, will you?” She grumbled and you picked up a wrench tapping it lightly against the work table.

“Oh I can go all night,” you laughed and she hung up.

You worked well into the night, fitting the parts of your baby boy together carefully. It was the prototype your Dad had called you home to finish suddenly. You’d just graduated from university and were staying in Berlin with Minseok and _______ (Minseok’s VP,) and some other coworkers just days before he would be revealing one of the first premier parties of Erhabenheit. You’d postponed accepting the offer at one of the German Embassies abroad so you could celebrate your graduation and your job offer properly.

But when your Dad called with that news and your mother called back to tell you he was in Stage 4 and wanted to see you before it was too late, you called into the Embassy and requested that the offer be transferred back home so that you could spend time with him before….

And he’d shown you his plans as you were the only one who could have realized the dream with him.

Because of the environment in Almaty, there was a lot of smog that residents and visitors dealt with each day. Though it was not as industrialized, what work had been done in the city of the region within the mountains, the smog was pretty high and environmental health was of the utmost importance.

“Just think! Just think if we could build these cars! Just think the difference it could make for our city!” He had dreamed aloud with you as he hobbled around in his work shop back home.

He wanted to create an eco-friendly sports car worthy enough to attract the elite. Give them something to invest in for the betterment of all of the people in Almaty. He wanted to go from lowly repairmen to billionaire and you knew he would do right by your family if the investment was good. He would make sure to clear up not only your family’s debts but his own as well. “And then I can see you happy,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at you. “You won’t have to work so far away anymore. You can come home and be with me. It doesn’t have to be marriage. But I just want to see you home in a clean city so that one day...one day if you wanted to….you could have children.”

He’d said that every day until his last day while you worked on the plans with him in between helping him to manage the usual repairs his shop got.

And you worked at the car every day and night after he was gone.

You’d moved both his prototype and the shop’s location to your place, relieving your mother of having to grieve his loss every single morning she woke up and saw the unfinished car in the garage. Grant it, now she didn’t want to visit you and neither did your brothers because of it but you were happy to be alone with your father’s dreams. And you hoped one day you could make it possible for him.

After another showering off of dirt and grime and a quick breakfast, you opened your garage doors, ready to receive the day’s customers.

Sometimes the neighborhood kids stopped by with their bikes and asked for help with their chains too.

And this morning was no different than any other.

Your usual customer, a little girl and her friends, all around the ages of 7-10 years old were huddled around you having a glass of juice you offered them while they waited for you to clean their bike chains and realign them. Your only requirement of their payment was that they watered the plants along the walk while they waited and shared their candy if they had any. You were sucking on a couple of caramel candies they brought specifically for you, for that reason.

“So how’s school these days? How are you grades looking?” You asked of Sholpan, a little goddess in her own right. She was the cutest of the group and unfortunately knew it. She was letting the attention of the boys in her class sometimes distract her from what was important at this point in time of her young life.

“They’re all right,” she answered, her attention on the flowers she was watering, her aim of the water can starting to swirl around as she shook the can to get more water out.

“Alright? Hm. I like the sound of good and great!” You called out to her over her shoulder and heard her friends giggle quietly.

“Oh! What’s the importance of school anyways….” She sighed as she set the can down and came to squat beside you to see how much further along you were. Sometimes you stalled so you could talk to the kids longer but it was kind of hot and you wanted to head in to get some water soon so you were trying to hurry.

“I just want to be a superstar!” Tomyris cried wistfully, earning her own chorus of giggles as she turned about and posed in front of her audience.

“Yea! Have you ever wanted to be a superstar?” Sholpan asked you and you shrugged.

“Eh...in my own way I guess maybe. I know some super stars here and there though and I’m sure they’d tell you that it makes being a star a lot easier once they’ve finished with school,” you sang as you draped your cloth over your shoulder and sat back on your heels to check your work.

You expected to hear groans of annoyance and raspberries being blown but instead you heard gasps and cries.

You whirled around to see what was going on.

“Do you know this person?” Sholpan gaped, pointing at two men walking up the length of your drive. They’d just stepped out of a Tesla Model X.

You shielded your eyes from the morning sun, wrapping your work rag around your right fist a couple times just in case these were some wacky dudes.

You weren’t sure what to make of the sounds the girls were making and gestured for them to stand behind you.

You heard them speaking to each other in excited voices as they pointed at your shop and looked down again at their phone.

They were dressed comfortably but handsomely. They definitely had some money.

The taller one looked at you warily as you approached while the one closer to your height waved to you in a friendly manner.

“Qayırlı tañ, qalıñ qalay? (Good morning, how are you?)” He called out to you in clear Kazakh.

Is he a native, you wondered at his friendly tone and quickly unraveled the rag, feeling the girls pressing on your heels behind you.

The taller one waved to them and they giggled shyly, pressing you forward as they peeked out from behind you shyly.

“Men sonday-aq, raxmet. Men sizge qalay kömektese alamın? (I am well, thank you. How can I help you?)” You said back to the one who was closer to your height and he pointed to his car.

“Men sizge kölikterdi bekitiñiz estigen. Sen mağan kömektese alasıñ ba? (I heard you fix cars. Can you help us?)” He asked, looking at you curiously.

You were probably a sight even if you had washed up that morning. Grease was probably all over your face and in your hair.

You smiled in spite of all that and gestured for him to lead you towards the car.

After checking it out, you didn’t notice any immediate problems with the vehicle.

It was the exact kind of cutting end luxury electric car your father was hoping to make. Except it wouldn’t be an SUV.

The rise of the falcon doors and the clean interior made your knees quake for just a moment.

You almost asked him if you could test drive it so you could feel that kind of power in your hands but composed yourself.

“Ol OK körinedi (It is ok,)” you said to him and he shook his head, wincing with one eye closed as if he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say next.

You immediately asked him where he was from, hoping that depending on the answer you would be able to make this conversation easier for him.

You felt a tiny hand tugging at the top of your jeans at your hip and you looked down to see Sholpan looking up at you, her eyes wide with horror.

“You don’t know Jongdae?” she asked.

And you looked up at the man she called Jongdae who smiled down sweetly at her.

She blushed as she caught him looking at her and quickly hid behind you.

“Men Jongdae senimdimin. Men korey senimdimin (I am Jongdae. I am Korean,)” he smiled like a cat. Like a Cheshire cat.

You liked the look of his mouth when he smiled like that. How dazzling his teeth were. The shape of his lips framing those beautiful teeth. My.

You reached your hand out to him and he shook it gently.

“Geugeos-eun dangsin-eul mannaseo bangawoyo (It is very nice to meet you,)” you said to him and his smile grew.

The taller man beside him was impressed.

You silently thanked Minseok for his thorough lessons as well as the classes you took and turned your attention to the taller man who reached a hand to you as well.

“나는 타오이다. 만나서 반가워요. (I am Tao. It is nice to meet you,)” he said chicly, nodding his head to you.

“고맙습니다! (Thank you)” You said to him while you waited for Jongdae to explain the situation now that it was more comfortable for them.

“앞 유리를 고칠 수 있습니까? (Can you fix the front glass?”) He asked you, gesturing to the windshield.

He explained that he had just purchased the car and was having issues driving it because of the double vision created by the make of the windshield.

You almost rolled up your sleeves and got to work right then and there but stopped yourself.

“테슬라에게 보냈 니? (Did you send it to Tesla?)” You asked and Jongdae shrugged.

“우리는 할 수 있었다. 오랜 시간이 걸릴거야. (We could. It will take a long time,)” Zitao explained beside him.

“우리는 당신이 좋은 일을한다고 들었습니다. 당신은 에이스입니다. 우리를 도와 줄 수 있니? (That you are an ace. Can you please help us?)” Jongdae asked and you preened a little bit at the praise though you explained to him that it was quite the foolish venture to buy a Tesla overseas and have it shipped where if there were any problems, he wouldn’t be able to get Tesla-specific repairs. If he were in the Asia-Pacific territories or even Europe, it would be way easier to get the materials to him that he sorely needed. Luckily enough for him, you were interested enough to pursue such a job and could possibly figure out how to outfit his vehicle with a better windshield.

Your father hadn’t raised a quitter and you were sure you could figure it out, if not find someone who could that hopefully wouldn’t cost him an arm and a leg with all the shipping that this kind of job would require.

You brought him into your shop and chatted for a little while about the expectations he had and the reality that you could deliver.

While you were writing everything up for him, you noticed that the girls hadn’t gotten on their bikes that you’d already finished and pedaled off towards home.

Their eyes were glued to Jongdae who turned every once in awhile to wave to them, causing them to scatter behind the plants they’d already watered.

“Um….” You eyed the exchange once more before you spoke up and asked him who he was.

He seemed surprised that you would ask again, which made you ever more suspicious until he showed you a video from his YouTube channel of himself discussing his latest album.

You’d heard of him before...you thought to yourself and suddenly smacked your own forehead when you realized where you had heard of him from.

How could you forget that voice? That face?

He laughed at your bewildered expression until you explained to him exactly who you were.

Zitao also laughed aloud from his place beside your baby boy that he had been eyeing.

One of the girls, Tomyris, had crept up beside you while you sat on your work stool, Jongdae opposite you and suddenly whispered, “Can you ask him for an autograph?”

You figured he probably understood and looked at him expectantly.

You weren’t used to fielding these kinds of questions before and this was the real test. What kind of guy was this? While you were sure he could be vetted as one of the good guys, if he was on Minseok’s list, you still weren’t sure yourself.

He surprised you and the little girl by coming down from his perch on your other work stool and asking you for a permanent marker which you went looking for in your home office.

When you returned with it, you found him already on his knees in the drive with the girls circled around him singing what must have been one of his songs from the look of pride on his face.

나 요즘 썸타 썸타 썸타

I have a lil something these days

네 맘을 알 듯 말 듯 왠지 애매한

It’s like I know your heart but I don’t, it’s ambiguous

너와 나 썸타 썸타 썸타

You and I, we have a lil something

He clapped for them as they finished and took the pen gratefully from you as he signed each and every one of their handlebars patiently as they continued to sing here and there while they watched.

Zitao looked on whispering to Jongdae. “Hyung, you’re so cool.”

And though you weren’t one to fangirl over celebrities the way you fangirled over news about the latest in car tech from international car expos, you had to admit, you thought he was pretty cool too.