#it should be noted that the brother in question is a wheel designer. like

[hellenhighwater]

I also just got an update on THE BIG! Brother says he ate pasta and rebuilt the power steering pump, and got it installed last night. (I assume the pasta is crucial to this process.) He was mocking up the new wheelies and it looks SO GOOD

Big push on Sunday to try to get her roadworthy. Hopefully all goes well!

[ashes-of-omelas]

@alabonshay

As magic constructs who came from a world within an enchanted painting, Rook and Sparrow find it easier than most to wriggle into magic pocket dimensions. But usually it happens intentionally. It's hard to say how they came to be passengers on the Train. They woke up there one morning (if such a thing as morning exists here), and they've been trying to make sense of their situation ever since.

They have never seen a train before, but they could accept that the space, with its comfortable seating and trundling wheels, must be a form of transportation. There is no question that magic gets mixed up in reality, here: every time the train stops, the outside world is different. The brothers' painting world had an architect, and they can't help but wonder if the train and its strange stops are here thanks to design more than accident. But if anybody created the train and the world it inhabits (or perhaps creates along the way), that entity is unreachable.

A monotone announcer's voice tells them that they are a number of stops away from a special stop, where a wish can be granted. It seems that that's their best bet for getting home, but they don't trust the monotone voice or the train well enough to be content to do nothing as they wait. If they have been caught like a bug in a net, the one holding the net is the last person or entity they should trust. Rather than entirely put their fate in the hands of a hint of a wish, they have determined to travel through the train until they reach the front of it. They may be able to question whoever is driving or piloting it and perhaps convince that person or entity to let them go.

As they make progress forward, they find another absurdity to their situation: the train cars seem to stretch on to infinity. The discovery is disheartening, but they don't have many other options for looking for exits. If they get off at a stop and focus their exploring efforts there, they might give up their chance to interact with the train (and its promise of wishes) at all. Worse, they can't be sure if the stops continue to exist once the train leaves the area. If this dimension had an architect, that architect seems to have designed a world to fit a train, rather than the other way around.

So they keep traveling through the cars. And one day, they find that they're not alone. There's evidence that another person has been using a car as a living space.

They want to meet the other person, but they don't want to startle them. They write a friendly note and take a seat one car back, to wait. The note reads:

Hello. Our names are Sparrow and Rook. We are trapped on this contraption like you are. We would like to meet you, and perhaps we can work together. If that's not okay, we understand. Come and find us in the car that comes before this one. Knock three times on the door if you do not want to meet. We will leave you alone and pass through next time you are out foraging.

Regards,

Sparrow and Rook

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. ���Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty In the Blood - Part 5

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined…

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader

Read part four here! 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

*Please read to the end for another author’s note!*

A/N: Warning, folks! Here be smut! Nothing too dark in this chapter as far as gore or violence goes, though. Which... I suppose is a plus, considering this story. I hope you guys enjoy!

Too good to be true.

That was the thought that kept plaguing you, even four months later. He’s too good to be true. This relationship is too good to be true. What happens when I figure out that this is too good to possibly be true?

And yet, day after day, Loki continued to prove you wrong. It wasn’t all just the big romantic overtures that you found out he loved to make. (Like the time he had a dozen red roses delivered to your door on your one-months anniversary. Or the brand new matching wireless keyboard and mouse he got to make writing easier for you. Or the time he took you to a quaint, tucked away speak-easy to treat you to a night of drinks and slow dancing.)

It was in the little things, too. How he would come over on days where you felt less-than-good to hold you and watch your favorite movies. Or how he would send you texts throughout the day to tell you about an interesting case at work, or to ask you what you wanted for dinner on date night, or just to tell you that he was thinking about you.

In fact, some would even say that he was too attentive, too perfect, and were it anyone else, alarm bells would be going off in your head. But there was something about him that made you keep coming back for more, and even with months now behind you, you still couldn’t get enough.

And maybe that was why you were so nervous right now. Pacing back and forth across the length of your bedroom, you stared down at your stocking-clad feet as you tried frantically to tamp down the butterflies batting around your rib cage. You knew, consciously, that even if tonight were a disaster, Loki would still care about you. He wouldn’t just up and leave, even if Thor ended up despising you.

But you still really hoped he wouldn’t.

A gasp parted your lips when the tell-tale sound of your doorbell echoed throughout your home, and after one more deep breath, you pulled your heels on and made your way down the stairs. With one last glance in the mirror and a quick, silent prayer to whoever might be listening, you threw your purse over your shoulder and opened your front door.

His smile still caught you off guard sometimes. As you stepped out into the darkness of the evening, you felt heat flood your cheeks as Loki grinned up at you. He was dressed impeccably as always, sporting a dark green suit with a crisp white shirt, and if the way his eyes raked over you was anything to go by, he was more than pleased with how you looked, as well.

“And you must be the woman I’ve heard so much about!”

A loud, booming voice took you off guard, and you watched as annoyance flashed over your boyfriend’s face at the outburst. As he turned to shoot a glare over his shoulder, you caught a flash of the other man waiting at the base of your front steps, and though you already knew that Loki was adopted, you were still briefly taken aback by just how different the two brothers were.

Thor was just as large as Loki had described, and although the two stood at about the same height, his shoulders and build were so broad that he would have been quite intimidating, were it not for the large grin on his face. His long hair was pulled up into a loose bun, showing off a pair of blue eyes that seemed to radiate genuine happiness, and despite your still-present nerves, you couldn’t help but let a matching smile come over your features.

“Hi, Thor. Loki’s told me so much about you.”

“And I’m sure all of it is incredibly flattering, right?” He sent a conspiratorial glance back to Loki, who only raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever could I tell her about you that wouldn’t be flattering, brother?”

“Nothing comes to mind, seeing whereas I’ve never done anything wrong or questionable.”

“Thor Odinson? Perish the thought.”

The man in question let out a bark of laughter before turning back to you and extending his arm for a handshake.

“Well, my brother has nothing but glowing remarks about you,” he remarked, all but crushing your hand in his grip. “And I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally meet the woman who’s stolen Loki’s heart.”

Once more, you felt heat rising in your face, and you let out a nervous chuckle as Thor dropped your hand. From your right, you felt an arm slither around your waist, and you leaned into Loki’s warmth.

“Thank you so much! It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

“You don’t need to lie for his sake, love,” Loki stage-whispered into your ear. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a nudge with your elbow, though Thor seemed to be used to his brother’s sass. Without a glance in his direction, Thor reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, clicking a button on them until you heard a car beep close by.

“Shall we be off, then?” he asked. “We have about twenty minutes until our reservation.”

“That is if his driving doesn’t kill us along the way,” Loki snarked, guiding you towards the car with a hand on your lower back.

“I didn’t hear you offering to drive earlier, Loki,” Thor commented, sending his brother a look that elicited a scowl in response.

“Only because my car is in the shop. Remember?”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You giggled at the pained look your boyfriend sent you, pecking his cheek as Thor made his way around to the driver’s seat. Loki offered to sit in the back, but after a few moments of deliberation, you ended up sitting in the back with Loki on the passenger side next to Thor. Your seating arrangements ended up working out perfectly, though, because you had the perfect vantage point to watch the two brothers bicker over how to get to the restaurant. Loki was doing his best to navigate, but… Well. You quickly learned that it was of no use with Thor behind the wheel.

“I said take a left at Sycamore, Thor.”

“I heard you. But there’s a shortcut between Sycamore and Highland Street.”

“No, there’s not. Have you even driven through this part of New York before?”

“You forget I used to live here, too, brother. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Oh, just like you did when we were driving through London, yes?”

“That was your fault. If you hadn’t had tried to-“

“WATCH FOR PEDESTRIANS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”

Needless to say, the twenty minute drive was eventful to say the least, and you were only mildly traumatized by the way Thor was bobbing and weaving through the thick New York traffic. Even Loki looked a bit green from it, and you’d never seen your boyfriend shaken by anything. When both of you had your feet once again on solid ground, he wrapped an arm around you once again and whispered against your hair.

“I really do apologize for all of that, darling.”

“No, please don’t. It was funny,” you assured him, pecking his cheek as Thor rounded the vehicle towards you. “Usually you’re so…unperturbed. It was nice to see you a little ruffled.”

He sent you a bemused smile, but it vanished as Thor clapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward a few steps.

“Well, nothing ruffles Loki’s feathers like me. It took an entire month of convincing for him to even agree to me visiting.”

“A decision I’m regretting more and more as the minutes tick by…”

Soon enough, the three of you were sat at a table in one of the nicest restaurants you’d ever been to. Surprisingly enough, Thor had recommended the place, and after your waiter came by to take your drink orders, you rested your hand on top of Loki’s and turned towards the blonde.

“Thank you for the restaurant suggestion, Thor. How’d you hear about this place?”

“My girlfriend actually told me about it. Usually when I’m in New York on business, I just go to local food trucks or pizza parlors. But Jane said that I should take you two somewhere nice. She apologizes for not being able to make the trip, by the way. She was just as curious about you as I was, but she had an important conference to give a lecture at.”

“That sounds amazing! And no worries; I’d love to meet her next time you’re in town. What do the two of you do for a living?”

“Well, Jane is an astronomer – one of the best in the entire world, actually,” he started, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his partner. “She’s lecturing on a new design she’s invented, some sort of spectrometer. Honestly, it all goes way over my head, but that’s why she’s the genius.”

“To be fair, most things go over your head, brother.”

Thor rolled his eyes at Loki’s quip, and when you turned towards your boyfriend, you saw that he had a small smile on his face to match the mischievous glint in his eyes. You knew better than to take him seriously; anyone would be able to see how close the two were, despite their back-and-forth.

“And what about you, Thor? Loki’s never told me what you do for a living.”

“I work for Stark Industries,” he replied, taking a sip of the large pint of beer he’d ordered. “It’s not much, but it keeps me busy.”

“Not much, indeed,” Loki interjected. “You’re only in charge of the entire marketing department, after all.”

Your eyes widened at that; Stark Industries was one of the biggest, most well-known brand names in the world. From appliances to electronics to clean energy, it was right up there with Google and Disney as far as most were concerned, and to think that Thor was in such a high-ranking position, well… From the things Loki had told you about Thor, you hadn’t expected such a career for him.

“Wow. That’s…incredible. So you know Tony Stark?”

“Oh, me and Tony are great friends. But I don’t ‘run’ the marketing department by any means. Just the UK faction of it.”

“’Just���?”

After that, the waiter stopped by to take your respective orders, after which Thor settled his attention on you once more.

“So, Loki has already told me about your writing. It’s funny to think of him dating the author responsible for those books he’s obsessed over for years.”

“I’m not obse-“

“Has he asked you to sign any of his copies yet?”

He had, jokingly, at one point. But you didn’t tell Thor that.

The rest of the evening passed by without incident, and your nerves quickly evaporated as the three of you laughed and talked through the rest of the meal. Loki liked to joke at Thor’s expense, but it was clear that he held his older brother in high regard, and Thor clearly loved Loki very much. More than a few times, you caught him watching you and Loki closely, a discerning, considering look in his eyes that belayed an intelligence you hadn’t expected. He might not be as book smart or as well-spoken as his younger sibling, but Thor obviously was good when it came to reading people. Whatever he was looking at, though, it didn’t disappoint, because any time your eyes met, he would send you a small, encouraging smile that would immediately dissipate any worries you might have had.

In what felt like no time at all, the three of you were piling out of the car at your house again, and you didn’t hesitate to return Thor’s hug as he said his goodbyes.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” he assured you. “Loki’s never let me meet any of his girlfriends before, but I see now that he was just waiting for the right one to come along first.”

Taken off guard by his genuine compliment, you could only blink up at him for a few moments in surprise before your brain kicked back in.

“That’s…so kind of you to say, Thor. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

After clapping you on the shoulder, Thor said his goodbye and got back into his car, giving you and Loki some privacy. As soon as his blonde head disappeared into the vehicle, you felt two cold hands cup your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into a deep, toe-curling kiss, and you let yourself melt into your boyfriend’s embrace as he held you against him.

“That went well, I would say,” he murmured as the two of you finally parted. “He likes you, if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“I like him, too,” you smiled. “Thank you for letting me meet him.”

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but you watched as uncertainty began to creep along his features, and after a few moments of considering, his mouth snapped shut once again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “I forgot what I was going to say, is all. I think driving with Thor still has my brains slightly scrambled.”

“Hm.” You didn’t believe him, not for a second, but whatever it was left your mind as soon as his lips came down onto yours once more. This kiss was slower than before, and lingering; his hands slid up over your hips to settle on your waist, and he let out a soft sigh through his nose before pulling away to set his forehead on yours.

“I should probably head home,” he whispered. “But Thor leaves out tomorrow morning. Would you like to come over tomorrow?”

“For dinner?”

“And dessert.”

You grinned, pressing one last kiss to his lips before taking a step towards your door.

“I love you, Loki. Have a good rest of your evening.”

“I will, darling. But only because I’ll be thinking of you.”

_______________

The two men drove in silence back to Loki’s house, leaving him to think back over the evening. It couldn’t have gone better, in his opinion. Thor liked you, but Thor was a bit like a golden retriever in that way. He loved most of the people he met, whereas Loki had always been more comparable to a cat; he needed to trust someone before deciding whether or not he liked them, typically, and his trust was not easily gained. In fact, there were only two people in the world he truly trusted, and now, they’d both finally made the other’s acquaintance.

The silence was finally broken when Thor parked in front of Loki’s home. As they both sat there, illuminated by the dashboard and streetlights, his elder brother turned to face him fully.

“I like her,” he announced, as though Loki couldn’t already tell that. “Does she know?”

Loki arched an eyebrow before getting out of the car and fishing his keys out of his pocket, striding up to his door as his brother scrambled to catch up with him.

“I have no idea what you could be alluding to,” he replied, opening his front door and bending down to scoop up Lovecraft, who had a habit of swiping at Thor anytime he tried to enter the house.

“Oh, I wonder,” Thor countered, shutting the door behind him before peeling off his winter coat. “I suppose I could be talking about your allergy to dogs. Or perhaps your aversion to the color orange. Or, oh, I don’t know, your habit of murdering innocents. Who knows?”

With a roll of his eyes, Loki hung his coat up beside Thor’s and started striding towards his basement stairs, trusting Thor to follow him.

“How many times must I tell you – there’s no such thing as ‘innocent’. Not in today’s world, at least.”

“Try telling that to a jury.”

“Hopefully it’ll never come to that point,” Loki sighed. He bypassed the first room of his basement, not giving a second glance to the old, miscellaneous pieces of furniture and the stacked boxes of keepsakes from childhood. No, instead he focused on the large, dusty bookshelf that covered the far wall of the room, reaching for the thick compendium of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets that hid the keyhole.

“I’ll never get used to being down here…” Thor’s voice was uncharacteristically small in here; usually, his baritone could be heard from several rooms away, but his mood always took a dark turn when he was reminded of Loki’s…’proclivities’.

“You can always wait upstairs, you know,” Loki uttered without a backwards glance, fitting the small key into the lock and twisting until he heard a click.

“I know,” his brother assured him. “But I promised I’d help you, so let’s just get this over with.”

Smirking, Loki pocketed his keys and pulled the hidden door open, watching a section of the bookcase separate from the rest and turn on the hinges he’d installed so long ago. The creaking shriek they elicited made him wince, and he made a mental note to grease them before his next houseguest.

Luckily for Thor, the only beings alive or dead in Loki’s house were the two of them and Lovecraft, who pattered in after them before jumping up onto the chair in the corner. He typically didn’t allow his cat entry to this room, for obvious reasons, but he decided to leave her be as he knelt next to the detached backseat from his car that was sitting in the middle of the room.

“I’ve already replaced the stuffing; you just need to help me reupholster, and then I can do the rest.”

Thor knelt beside him with a grumble, grabbing a staplegun from his wall of power tools and torture instruments as he kept his eyes stubbornly focused on the seat.

“You know, if you used plastic tarps like any self-respecting serial killer would, you wouldn’t have to reupholster anything in the first place,” he groused. Loki knew that he had a point, and he usually did use plastic when transporting his victims.

“…This one was a bit of a last minute decision,” he finally conceded. “But I’m handling it, as you can see.”

Thor’s lips turned white as he pressed them together, pausing in his struggle to roll out more fabric.

“Loki, you can’t afford to make many last minute decisions with this sort of thing,” he muttered, all joking gone from his voice. “You promised me you’d be careful if and when you get these…urges.”

“And I am,” Loki assured his brother. “Truthfully. No one has ever suspected me of anything. Not once, and you know that.”

With a huff, Thor nodded and continued his work, his movements echoing in the concrete chamber. In the back of his mind, Loki knew that his brother was right, though. Five months ago, he never would have been so careless as to get a victim’s blood on his suede car seats. But, now that he had you in his life, all of his passions seemed to be reigniting. For one, he’d never had as much sex in his previous relationships as he was having with you. He also never felt the need to talk to someone as much as he spoke with you; he hadn’t had many girlfriends or boyfriends in the past, but the ones he’d had always complained about him being too distant, too aloof, too ‘unfeeling’. Now, though, he found himself craving you and your company at all times during the day, and his alone time was less and less precious to him as he considered how much better it would be having you by his side.

However, as those passions rose, others did as well. You and your newest novel were a constant source of inspiration to him, and his lust for blood had grown considerably. If he kept up the pace that he was at right now, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he slipped up. But he pushed that thought aside, as he always had. That was a bridge he would cross when he came upon it.

“…Will you ever tell (Y/N)?”

Thor’s question was sudden, and it made his hands still as he reached for the staple gun.

“…Are you suggesting that I do?”

“Of course not.” Thor shook his head, biting back a curse as he tried stretching a length of suede over the car seat’s frame. “At least, not right now. I think both of us know that it wouldn’t end well. But this is a…mammoth secret to keep from a significant other, Loki. And if you weren’t able to hide it from me, there will come a day when you won’t be able to hide it from her, either. Not if you’re going to keep her in your life.”

“You didn’t find out until I was twenty,” he countered. “And you only found out because I got sloppy.”

“I still knew that there was something off. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I suspected the truth for years before I caught you in the act.”

Loki’s eyebrows rose, and he didn’t know what was more surprising to him – the truth, or the fact that his brother was still able to take him off guard, even after all of the years spent together.

“…Truthfully?”

“Of course, Loki. I knew you weren’t sneaking out at night to go clubbing.” He chuckled a bit at the thought, though his laughter died the second he saw the look Loki shot him. “I saw you burning your clothes once, in the field behind our house. We were 17 at the time, I think. And I knew you wouldn’t burn them unless it were to hide…well. Bloodstains. It was the only explanation for why you decided to burn them in the middle of the night, at least.

“But I told myself that I was wrong. People do that, you know; when someone you love hurts you, or when they do something wrong, you know it. But you lie to yourself anyways.”

There was a long, heavy silence before the two brothers got back to work, one that was only broken several minutes later, when they were mostly finished.

“Loki?”

“Mm?”

Loki looked up, catching a solemn expression on Thor’s face that immediately didn’t sit right with him. For all of his sociopathic tendencies towards most people, he didn’t like to see his typically jovial sibling so serious.

“I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be you,” Thor sighed. “I’ve never fully understood how your mind works, but I know that it’s hard for you to let people in. So I’m happy for you and (Y/N). I am. But I also know that, someday, she’s going to find out. It can either be from you slipping up, or from you telling her outright. But, someday, she’s going to find out.

“I meant what I said – when you find out that someone you love is bad, and that they’ve done bad things, you lie to yourself before accepting the truth. Just…promise me that you’ll look out for when she starts lying to herself about you. Alright?”

Loki swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he thought about you, about how your face would twist into an expression of fear, of disgust, of hatred, when you finally found out about him. And his heart sank as he pictured the fragile reality you two had been living in all of a sudden crumpling into ash. He couldn’t even bear the thought of losing you, but what other choice would he have if you found him out?

“What are you suggesting I do when she finds out?” he asked, a slight waver making its way through the syllables despite his best interest.

“I’m asking what you’re prepared to do, brother. Think it over, and please, just be careful.”

____________

You woke up the next day to find a text waiting for you from an unknown number, but as soon as you opened it, a wide smile came over your face.

Loki wouldn’t give me your number, so I had to get it out of his phone while he slept. But I wanted to tell you before I fly back to London that it was lovely meeting you, and I’m very happy my brother finally found someone he loves. -Thor

The text was sent at 6:14am, so you knew that Thor was likely already on his plane, but you still tapped out a message before getting up and starting your day.

It was great to meet you, too! Have a safe trip back.

With that, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and went about your morning routine, sending Loki a quick good morning text as you ate breakfast. You were planning on finishing up the last chapter of your coroner story, and you were excited to let him read it that evening when it was done. He’d been so supportive throughout the entire writing process that you were making record time on it; even your editor was surprised at how productive you’d been lately, and you were anxious for his thoughts on the ending.

As you sat down at your computer to type it up, though, you saw that you had an email from your publisher, and your heartrate skyrocketed as you opened it up. You’d sent them the first five edited chapters a few weeks back, and even though you already had several published books, you still got excited anytime you heard back from them.

Your heart only beat faster as you read through their email, and though you’d only just sat down, you were soon leaping out of your chair once you were done. They were going to publish it! At least, they were going to as soon as you had all of the chapters. You’d been concerned that your main character wouldn’t have as much appeal as others of yours had in the past, but as it turned out, they loved Olivia.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your phone was out of your pocket and you were dialing Loki’s number, your fingers trembling in excitement. You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for him to pick up, and when he finally did, he barely had time to say hello before you were telling him the good news.

“Hello, darling-“

“LOKI I HEARD BACK FROM MY PUBLISHER!” you cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Also hello! Good morning, my love.”

Loki’s velvety laugh only added to your elation, and you quickly ran up to your bedroom to start getting dressed.

“Good morning to you, too. I take it the news was good?”

“It was amazing news! Fantastic news, actually. I was going to finish the final chapter today, but now I’m too excited to focus!”

“Well, love, I’m sure that if you want to just take today to celebrate, it won’t put you too far behind schedule.”

“Speaking of celebrating, can I bring lunch by today on your break? If work isn’t too busy for you, that is.”

“That should be fine, darling; work is actually quite slow.”

“Perfect! I’m going to start getting dressed, but text me which restaurant you’d like, and I’ll pick it up. My treat!”

“Alright, love,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you around noon, then.”

After you two said your goodbyes, you flew through getting ready and ran a few errands before lunch time came around. Loki, as usually, had told you that he was fine with anything and that you should pick the restaurant, so you swung by your favorite bistro before taking a cab to Bellevue Hospital, waving at the front desk staff as you passed by. They all recognized you at this point from your previous visits to see Loki on his break, and they all smiled and waved back as you made your way to the elevators.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned to see one of the receptionists calling you over, and so you shifted the food boxes in your hands and approached the desk.

“Dr. Odinson asked me to tell you that he’s in his office – it’s on the same floor as the morgue, but take a left instead of a right when you get out of the elevators. His is the third office on the left.”

After thanking her for letting you know, you headed down that way, shivering as you stepped out into the cold basement floor. His office had a bronze name placard on it that had Loki’s name on it, and so, after a quiet knock, you walked in to find him sitting behind a tidy desk, tapping away at his laptop furiously.

“I come bearing gifts!” you announced, causing his head to pop up from staring at his screen.

“Come in, love,” he smiled, standing up to help you with the food. “Thank you so much for lunch.”

“Don’t mention it! I wanted to celebrate the latest book, and I can think of no way I’d like to celebrate more than to spend time with the man I love. …And that was incredibly cheesy, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Loki laughed, pulling the chair in front of his desk out for you. “But it was also very sweet, and I appreciate it more than you realize.”

After setting your food down on the desk, you sat down, not realizing that Loki wasn’t going back to his side of the desk until you heard the click of a lock sliding shut behind you. Turning around, you watched as Loki stepped away from the door, approaching you with a conniving glint in his eyes.

“Did…you just lock the door?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“I did,” he confirmed. He didn’t elaborate further before sinking down onto his knees in front of you, and you only caught on to his intent after he gently took the to-go cup out of your hands to rest it on his desk.

“…Am I stuck in here with you, or are you stuck in here with me?” you joked, starting to squirm in your chair as Loki’s hands came down onto your knees.

The only answer you got was a wink before his lips were on yours, and all other thoughts fizzled out as his palms started creeping up your thighs, getting closer and closer to the waistband of your jeans. His tongue tasted like coffee as it glided over your own, and a small moan escaped your lips when his teeth gently nipped at your bottom lip.

“Are you sure about this?” you whispered as he started unbuttoning your pants. “I mean… What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught, love,” he assured you, slowly dragging your zipper down before beginning to slide your jeans off. “No one can stop us from having a little celebration. As long as you can keep quiet, that is.”

You lifted your hips as he tugged your trousers down your legs, taking your panties with them, and you shivered when you felt the cold leather chair against your exposed skin. Biting your lip, you slowly nodded your head, spreading your legs wider as Loki stooped down to place open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. It was wrong; you knew that there were other doctors in the offices right next to his, and you had no idea how thick or thin the walls were. Could they hear how hard you were suddenly breathing? Would someone passing by be able to hear the low, muffled groans Loki was making as he nipped and sucked hickeys into your skin?

As if sensing your thoughts, Loki glanced upwards as he spread your thighs even further apart, his lips twitching up into a smirk before he suddenly grabbed your hips and pulled, forcing your ass closer to the edge of the chair. In the same instance, he leaned down and buried his face between your legs, his nose just barely brushing against your clit as his tongue started lapping at your entrance. Your eyes rolled back he slipped it inside of you, the vibrations from his voice like bolts of lightning as he let out a guttural growl. He’d commented before on how much he loved eating you out, and you had no reason to doubt him as he thrust his tongue deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Loki…” You kept your voice at a soft whisper, gripping his hair as his tongue started alternating between thrusting into you and tracing patterns into your clit. Your hips jolted every time he swirled his tongue over your swollen bud, and it wasn’t long until they started rocking up against his face of their own accord. If you were at home, you’d already be begging for more or moaning his name over and over again, but now you were acutely conscious of every sound the two of you were making.

The panting of your breath and the obscene, slick noise of his tongue moving against you seemed to echo in the small room. With every shift of your hips, the chair you were in creaked, and you were soon fighting not to move too much for fear that it would be too loud. You were biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly tasted blood, but the pleasure Loki was bringing you overshadowed any pain or discomfort.

Just as you felt the edge of your orgasm starting to approach, though, he was pulling away, licking his lips and watching your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to guide him back with the hands you had locked in his hair.

“Please,” you whimpered, “fuck, I was getting close-“

“Don’t worry, love,” he interrupted, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m far from through with you.”

And that was all the warning you got before he scooped you up, setting you down onto his desk before you could do anything but let out a surprised gasp. At some point while he was eating you out, he must have taken his cock out of his pants, and now he was pushing you to lay on your back as he lined up with your entrance.

You gripped the edge of his desk so hard that your knuckles turned pale, but you still weren’t fully prepared for him to abruptly shove his cock inside of you, so hard that it pushed the air out of your lungs and pried a sharp moan from your lips. His hand came down over your mouth at its sound, and he leaned over you until your face was only inches from his.

“You have to stay quiet,” he panted, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back into you. “You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You hurriedly shook your head no, and he nodded before pulling his hand away and sliding it between your bodies. You nearly moaned again once his fingertips found your clit, though, and you pressed your own hand to your mouth as he began playing with it in time with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he purred, his own voice fighting back a moan as he started a fast rhythm. “Of course… Maybe you do want us to get caught.”

He punctuated his statement with a hard buck of his hips, and you pressed the back of your hand even harder to your lips as it startled another cry out you. The desk was beginning to creak in time with his movements, and you knew that anyone who walked by outside would be able to hear it. You just hoped that they couldn’t also hear Loki’s raspy breathing, or the way his balls were smacking against your ass with every thrust forward.

“Maybe you do want someone to hear me fucking you. Is that it?” he continued, his voice not once rising above a low growl. “Do you want them all to know that you’re mine? That you’re letting me use you, fuck you, right here in my office? Anyone with a key could get in, love. A janitor, another doctor… Anyone could come in and see what a good little slut you’re being for me. And you love that, don’t you?”

His thumb was moving faster and faster against your clit, and you were rapidly approaching your orgasm; you couldn’t remember the last time a partner had brought you so close so quickly. This was so different from how Loki usually was; typically, he was gentle with you, treating you like you would shatter if he were to grip you too tightly or kiss you too hard. But there were times, you’d found, when something else would peak through the cracks; some nights, his hand found its way around your throat, or his voice dropped into something predatory, threatening.

This was one of those times, evidently. And it always made something else rise up within you – the desire to submit, to bend to him completely, to let him have you and use you however he wanted. And so you did.

With a long, loud moan, you felt yourself cumming around his cock, so hard that it made your eyes roll back and your back arch up off of the desk, bending at an almost unnatural angle as your cunt clenched around him. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard him let out a muffled curse, and his thrusts began getting even harder, even faster, and through it all you laid back and took it. Your body was limp and pliable from your orgasm, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he took what he wanted from it.

It wasn’t long, though, until he pulled out, stroking his cock a few more times before you felt his cum against your thighs and belly, staining your shirt with his release as he leaned heavily over you, catching his breath. After letting out a deep, heavy sigh, he leaned over, kissing you gently before resting his head on your chest.

“…Wow,” you breathed, settling one of your hands on the back of his head as your other arm drew him closer.

“I agree with that assessment,” he murmured, pressing a kiss over your heart before lazily turning towards you. “You did say you wanted to celebrate, though.”

A giggle escaped your lips at that, and he smiled softly before kissing you once again and slowly drawing himself up to full height.

“I’m…sorry, if I was too rough,” he began, but you sat up and pressed a finger to his lips, shaking your head.

“I liked it. Loki, I know you’d never hurt me,” you assured him. “And I know you don’t really mean it when you do things like call me a slut.”

“Good,” he nodded, his eyes skating over your face. “Because I don’t. And I would never, ever, hurt you.”

“Then don’t apologize for getting a little rough,” you countered, pecking his cheek before starting to stand on wobbly legs. “Because you better believe I enjoyed it.”

“Mm. I could tell.”

You swatted playfully at his arm before straightening your jeans and grabbing a tissue from his desk, dabbing at the cum he’d left on your shirt before giving up on the task entirely and deciding to just keep your coat buttoned up on the ride home.

“…(Y/N)?”

You turned to find Loki staring at you, having already smoothed his appearance back to its usual unrumpled state. The look in his eyes gave you pause, though – it was the same look that he’d had the night before, when he’d looked like he had something to tell you before deciding against it. Unbidden, fear suddenly swept over you, and you had the worst feeling that he was going to break things off, that he was going to tell you that he’d rushed into things and that he didn’t feel the same way as you.

Gulping, you stepped closer, fighting against the trembling in your hands as he took them between his, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before looking up at you once more.

“I’ve…been doing a lot of thinking, and Thor’s visit yesterday made me realize something,” he began.

“I haven’t ever felt this way about anyone before. And, if I’m being honest, sometimes it terrifies me. There are… There are things about me that I haven’t told anyone besides Thor, and even then, there are things he still doesn’t know.

“I came to the realization last night, though, that I want you to know everything about me. I want you to accept me, fully, as I’ve accepted you. And even if I’m not ready to share it all with you, I know that I want us to grow to that point together. I want you to be mine, yes, but I want to be yours, too. Wholly and completely.”

He took a deep breath, then, and your eyes grew wide as he reached into his pocket, taking out a small box and handing it to you.

“I had this made earlier today, after I dropped Thor off at the airport. And I realize that, yes, this is rushing things a bit, and I want you to know that it’s alright if you need to say no or if you need to think it over. But I’m ready to take the next step, whenever you are.”

Feeling as if time was suddenly moving in slow motion, you opened the box, tearing your eyes away from Loki just long enough to look down…

…and see a key waiting for you.

Immediately, your heart soared, and you looked up to see a tiny, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Will you move in with me, my love?”

And even though, yes, it was probably too soon, even though you’d only known Loki for four months, even though all of the logic inside of you was screaming against it, you didn’t hesitate before answering him.

“Yes!”  

____________

A/N: WOW it took forever to write this. I am so sorry! 2020 has really had its way with me, as it has with all of us, and I can’t apologize enough for letting my writing get so far behind. THANK YOU to anyone and everyone reading this, though. I hope you all are having a safe holiday season, and please don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever wanna talk! You guys are the best readers in the world, and I appreciate every single one of you! 

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket Manga Review , ch 110

The writer doesn’t need to rush to akito (antagonist) & give us quick background exposition & escalate her mentality to the exploding moment, simply cuz tohru (the protagonist) isn’t emotionally in her most vulnerable moment yet. Tohru’s issues will be presented deeper  with each pov chapter she’ll have. So what should the writer do now?

This is a connected plot, meaning the emotions belonging to the previous chapter are still lingering & needs to be dealt with. There is no stupid laughing & cooking or even dumber momentarily amnesia. Nope! There is this:

-The Art of Writing Slow-Burns: (Lingering Emotions:)

Last time kyo hugged tohru thro the sheets. sth he wouldn’t do if it weren’t for the heartbreaking moment of tohru’s tears & the reason behind them. Why wouldn he do it? cuz he believes he’s the reason of her pain & is setting his mind on leaving her & being imprisoned as a punishment. He  wouldn’t do it cuz he loves her but he did it cuz he loves her. why? cuz love is illogical. Kyo’s heart moved him effortlessly to embrace her & “ his tenderness covered her pain” as the writer put it at the end of ch109.

Last time tohru hugged kyo thro the sheets, sth she wouldn’t do if it weren’t for the comfort of his warmth enveloping her loneliness & providing safety & a home. A home can a person. Why wouldn she do it? cuz Tohru is someone who hides pain behind a smile, someone who thinks she’s ugly & unlovable cuz she’s grieving still after all this time. She’s thinks she’s a burden. But here she confessed to kyo unprompted or advised by anybody. He only asked a fleeting question. but tohru cant hide who she is friom him anymore. Still, he accepted her & tenderly held her thro the sheets & she threw her body at him, she initiated the hug.

The sheet hig is the biggest emotional moment between kyo/tohru yet. It altered how they feel for each other cuz in that moment tohru’s mask fell & kyo was the most honest with himself emotionally. That’s not sth you move from with the stupid ED song. They both try to carry out normally afterwards cuz they live together after all. The slightest touch brings..... sexual tension!!!  it was so bad poor yuki left the house running!!!!!!!!

The writer cleverly escalates the sexual tension as they awkwardly try to find a talking topic, then dissolves it a bit when kto asks if tohru wants to go out together & where, then escalates it when tohru suggests buying eggs cuz she’s awkward, then dissolves it when kyo grumpily agrees but this is just grocery shopping” not a fun going out”, the escalates it when tohru said she’s happy for just bring together with him regardless of the location & kyo looses it! sexual tension explodes!

The target of the slow-burn isn’t the characters... the target is the audience! the writer plays with their emotions & cleverly puts the audience in a place where they desperately want these two idiots together but still remember why they aren’t! that’s very important. Having the readers cheer for a romantic relationship includes the readers understanding the obstacles ahead & how big they are & still cheer. If the obstacles are meh~ the readers will find the couple unrealistic, if the obstacles are so big & the couples emotions aren't buildup properly, then the couple themselves will feel meh~. Glad kyoru survived such writing mistakes both manga & anime ( anime hurt their characters more than their relationship).

-Yuki wants to move on from the unofficial son third wheeling his mom & her man:

The writer jokes abt yuki admitting he felt as a son watching his mon & her bf. I love tha this joke becuz it cleverly addresses the following points:

it is cleverly weaved in with the kyoru incident from last chapter. Sth happen & yuki doesn't know what is & doesn't want to! Yuki represents the audience I talked abt in the slow-burn point above. He is us. He’ll cheer for them to be together & will be so frustrated when they can’t. It adds to yuki confronting kyo at the climax!!! You see in the anime kyo/yuki stopped interacting much in se03. Then tada~~ big fight when it’s a must! & can’t be escaped... Here we still have kyo/yuki moments despite each boy moving away from his issues being the fault of the other. Basically better writing.....

The writer cleverly used this to address that yuki still feels like tohru’s son sometimes despite being more independent now, which is natural as you cant switch ur feelings with a button. But also the writer doesnt stay in this moment long & use it to build the next moment.. yuki/Aya , yuki/machi & aya/mine.... sadly all there dynamics are shortened in the anime like kyoru’s.

-I don’t think yuki/Aya  moment suffered much from the cuts, the entire school parents meeting ep us enough to reconcile the brothers. Aya defended yuki that day & so did yuki. He completely accepted him & stood up to him in front of the mom.

- More aya/mine would’ve been good to see & I would’ve preferred it to yuki/motoko moments in the anime that served nothing. but aya/mine too are stand alone story. They’re the most alike couple in a healthy way. Aya is the guy who protected his woman the most. simply cuz he’s the snake. snakes are secretive. he kept her to himself, even from yuki!!! impressive.

- What I lament from the cut of this mini yuki adventure?

1- This: ( yuki’s facial expressions) This is sth the anime fears, either cuz (a) pretty yuki is 100% pretty all the time, so no expressiveness cuz it leads to showing eyebrows & hiding them under layers of hair is the A.B.C of pretty characters... (b) Yuki in the anime is a prince 98% of the time, except with kyo (they got rid of this in se03 & give them one honest/ugly moment together) & with kakeru (one tiny moment in se03 in match’’s focus ep & then quickly back to prince yuki!)..., ugh!!!!!! I hate how yuki is prince thro & thro in the anime!!that’s why they couldn’t get rid of any motoko content!!! he’s a prince there... heck! school girls float after him the graduation ceremony... what’s up with that!! lol.

2-. This: ( machi with the toy that tohru/kisa/kagura/momiji & kiro like! so cute!!! also, foreshadowing yuki’s future chosen extended family! (his bro & his wife), (yuki & his wife) & best friend/his brother in law! Also, yuki is so himself! no glitters, no bubbles & no pretending anger! <3

Side Notes:

The lovely @mizzraynelly​ made notice kto’s speech in ch109 abt not vising his mom’s grave! Even tho it’s such a minor line, it’s one of the biggest cuts that foreshadow the accumulation of kyo’s guilt towards his mom. Kyo’s thing is guilt towards ppl he loves & fear of hurting them, by keeping this feeling alive in readers’ minds, the writer is making sure that the climax will hurt like sharp knives cuz the readers are on the same wave liength as kyo!!! epic buildup consists of tiny subtle pieces!

 Luckily, kyoru as a ship felt so strong in both manga & anime despite the later cutting half of their moments. Why? cuz the chosen cuts didnt affects the romantic relationship...no... the cuts affects the characters’ own personal struggle... most precisely tohru. Kyo’s own character struggles had better luck in the anime despite the cuts, simply cuz (a) was drawn with very expressive emotions & the anime team lingered on them in his scenes. (b) His character design as a whole was very expressive, the anime team didnt give him constant wide eyes like tohru & didn’t fear expr4essivness will affect for his “beauty “ like yuki. (c) kyo was given one ep per season for his issues which altho not much but way better than tohru (d) most important: kyo’s issues are very universal & very relatable” feeling guilt, mistakes & choosing wrong. That’s sth we all do!!! Tohru’s thing is grieve: this is very personal & most ppl experience it differently. 

I love kyo’s oufit!!! we have a hint of this moment in se03, ep 10 when yuki was fighting kyo... but they made yuki see them shopping as opposed of him seeing them being sexually charged!

I’m so mad this kyoru moment is cut!!!!!! tohru as a woman with pending sexual emotions is so refreshing & underrated in the trope of “ girl saves guys”. Also, it contradicts the pure mom image that’s been suffocating her since se01 ep 1!!!!! oh now i know why it’s cut... That’s why! momma tohru is so pure for such things & only when it’s the last two eps, then will allow her to be a woman choosing to live away with her man by her own desire! Why the anime only allow things ti happen when there’s no escape!!! I’ve always felt tohru/kyo is the type of couple to be expressive emotionally & sexually with each other based on seeing that ALL of their romantic interaction involves body language & I’m so happy there’s a canon proof so early before the future glimpse in finale!!!!!! 

I liked the aya-story, but it felt like the typical “ lesson of the day” formula, so I didnt analyze it much, but I enjoyed the brotherly interaction so much!! It had a gold mine of yuki being himself & so nit a prince! Im so happy I saw it! <3.

Every time yuki looked expressive is a happy moment for me!

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

[23] How is He? (Tim Riggins x OFC)

MASTERLIST | DWHI MASTERLIST

Warnings: mentions of prison and a brother with a lot of regret, parents being horrible

Words: 2.1k

The day I got the call from Billy about visiting Tim, I went straight over to the Riggins' house.

Billy was leaning over the kitchen sink, openly weeping. He hadn't been able to stop for more than a few hours since Tim walked into the police department. Steven and Mindy were the only ones who could put a smile on his face.

I went over and rubbed his back. I was angry at Billy for the whole chop shop mess, but I hated seeing him so broken up over it. His guilt was enough punishment for what he did. I didn't have to make him feel worse.

It was me who drove us to the prison that afternoon since he couldn't put himself together to drive. My knuckles were white as I gripped the steering wheel and my heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest. I didn't understand why I was nervous because it was just Tim. 

Billy matched my nerves, so we sat in the truck a few minutes. The delay allowed both of us to calm down.

"You did get pre-approved, right?" I finally asked Billy. "You can't see him if you didn't."

Billy cussed. "I forgot. Dammit!"

"You'll need to do that. They should have the paperwork inside. I had to come here to fill it out."

Billy rubbed his face. "Tell him I'm sorry, Cat."

"I love you, Billy, but that's something you need to tell him yourself." I opened the door. "Go take care of getting approved. I'll find you after." I tossed the keys to Billy and walked in.

I asked a lot of questions about what was acceptable to do when interacting with Tim and how I could communicate with him outside of visits. The last thing I wanted to do was get Tim in trouble or have the guards not trust me when I came by. They seemed annoyed by my questions, but I knew they would appreciate it in the long run.

A guard led me outside into a fenced-in area where several picnic tables were arranged. There were a few people out there talking to a prisoner they knew. I observed their interactions, jumping when a guard shouted at a woman for holding hands with her prisoner. I noted not to do that no matter how tempting.

I sat down at an empty table and the guard stepped away. I stared at the designs in the wood, bouncing my leg anxiously.

"Ma'am."

I looked up at the same guard, Tim standing next to him. I stood and hid the shaking in my hands by clasping them behind me. I looked at the guard curiously. "C-Can I hug him?"

The short nod was all I needed to wrap my arms around Tim. I counted to three before stepping back and wiping my eyes. I could see Tim wanted to comfort me – I wanted him to – but we both knew it wouldn't end well.

The guard gave us 10 minutes and stepped off to the side as we sat across from each other.

"I miss you," I said. "Skeeter does, too."

Tim released an airy chuckle. "I miss you both."

"What's it been like here?"

"Like prison."

I nodded and placed my hands on the table. "I hate that you're here for doing somethin' good... for protectin' your brother and his family."

"How are Mindy and Stevie?"

"He is growin' up fast. Mindy's gettin' her baby fat burned off and is about to beat Billy for cryin' all the time.

He nodded. "What about Becks?"

"She asks about you every time she comes over to play with Skeeter. Her home life is still rough. I think Cheryl is about to leave on some cruise, so Becky will have to stay with her dad and his girlfriend. I think I'm gonna ask her to stay with me if she'd rather do that. Luke might like that better, too."

"Thank you, Catherine. She needs someone like you in her life." Tim smiled at me.

We spent the rest of our time talking about writing letters and what I can and can't send him. We also talked about the property. He still wanted to build there when he got out of prison and I agreed that it was a good idea.

I hugged him once more before the guard brought him inside. He came back to lead me back to where my personal items were left and I walked out of the prison. 

Billy was pacing around the truck.

"Did you fill out the paperwork?" I asked.

He nodded. "How is he?"

"He's in prison, Billy."

"I know that. How does he look?"

I opened the driver-side door. "He looks well considerin'."

*****

Over the months, I visited Tim whenever I could. Three days a week at the prison was my schedule. It made me happy to see him and it seemed to cheer Tim up a little bit.

According to Billy, his visits with Tim weren't as pleasant. He said Tim was too serious, nothing like how I described my visits. That's when I realized Tim's frustration toward his brother. I should have known from the start, but I was blinded by my own irritation. I quit bringing up Billy unless he asked, which didn't happen often.

As spring came around, things got harder for me. School was unforgiving in the number of projects I had, my parents returned with smug faces because they heard the news about Tim, and I was lonely. The worst of it was the snide remarks my mom made about Tim's character. I went to bed angry so many nights, making the next day worse than it should have been. I finally lost it when I sat down for dinner with my parents after a stressful day working on a written project.

"Have you finished your assignments yet?" my dad questioned from the head of the table.

I shook my head. "I'm still working on a proposal and I have a large drawing I need to finish for my sketch class. They just piled on a storyboard for my digital art class, which I need to find an idea for." The food tasted bland as I chewed. "I've been trying, but things are a little difficult for me right now."

"You make sure you focus on your work."

"I am." I pushed around a carrot on my plate. "Creatively, I'm struggling."

Mom sipped her water. "You're not going to do well if you keep visiting that Riggins boy."

"He has nothin' to do with this, Mom. Why do you have to bring him up all the time?"

"Our daughter is dating a criminal," she said matter of factly. "As a parent, I think I need to remind you of how it's affecting your reputation."

"No, you are bringin' it up because you don't like him. You hate him and want to rub this situation in my face. You don't care about my reputation. You care about yours."

"Don't speak to your mother that way."

"Don't talk about Tim Riggins like he's a bad person. You don't even know him."

"I'd say we do," Dad said. "The Riggins know nothing other than trouble. It was only a matter of time before it caught up to them."

"Tim did nothin' wrong."

"Then why is he the one in prison?" My mom eyed me warily.

I couldn't say anything without giving away the truth. I set my fork down and took a deep breath. My eyes were prickling with unshed tears.

"Just as I thought."

Pushing out my chair, I stood and walked away from the table. My dad ordered me to sit back down and excuse myself, but I wasn't interested in listening to him anymore. I went straight into my room and locked the door. 

I shoved my books on the ground, setting my computer off to the side, before curling up among the covers. My pillow covered my head to drown out my sniffles and inadvertently wiped my tears away. 

The amount of time that passed was lost on me when I finally revealed my face to the room. I was sick of wasting any more time, so I started gathering up my things. My books and computer were shoved in a backpack. I grabbed a duffel bag – Tim's bag actually – and started shoving clothes into it. I grabbed anything else that meant something to me like my digital camera, my sketchbook, and the photo album I created with all of my favorite photos throughout my time in Dillon. I also grabbed the letters Tim sent to me from prison. The last thing I put in it was Tim's jacket he left with me. I was afraid to leave it behind with my parents around.

The wind blew in as I opened my bedroom window, rustling some stray paper on my desk. I carefully dropped the bag with all my clothes in the grass and made sure the bag on my back was secure. 

I glanced around my room one more time before climbing into one of the trees by the house. I easily got out of it, grabbed the duffel bag, and snuck to Tim's truck that Billy so kindly let me keep.

My parents didn't realize I was outside until I was pulling out of the drive. I didn't look back.

*****

Mindy answered the door. She looked happy to see me until she saw my bags.

"This will only be temporary and you'll hardly know I'm here," I said. "I'll stay in Tim's room, out of your hair. I'll be available when you need someone to watch Steven and I'll even help keep the house clean. I'm not here to get a free place to stay. I'm willin' to work for it if I have to. I just can't listen to my parents talk about Tim anymore." My voiced wavered. "They're so hateful."

Billy came up behind Mindy. "What's goin' on, Barton?"

"Nothin' good, Billy."

Mindy smiled sadly. "As long as you keep your end of the deal, you can stay. But you don't have to hide away while you're here. You're family, Catherine."

I nodded and stepped into the house when she stepped aside.

"Why do you need a place to stay?" Billy asked after I dropped my things in Tim's room.

"I can't be around my parents right now."

"They're back?"

"I wish they weren't." I ran my hand through my hair. "I'm sorry, but I really want to get some sleep and get this day as far behind me as I can. I can tell ya in the mornin' before I go see Tim, okay?"

Billy and Mindy wished me a good night, allowing me to take refuge in Tim's room.

I buried myself under his covers, not bothering to change into sleep clothes. My eyes landed on the picture frame he had on his bedside table. I was so embarrassed when he showed it to me because I didn't expect Tim to be sentimental. It was a photo of us from the summer I stayed in Dillon. I set a timer and everything so we could take a cute photo of us by the pool. Right before the shutter went off, Tim started kissing the side of my face and made me laugh, catching my reaction forever in a photo.

A small smile appeared on my face as I reached out, one finger pressing to the glass just over Tim. I hoped we'd go back to being that carefree and happy when he was free from prison. I wanted it so bad.

I tucked my hand back under me and closed my eyes. I took a long breath and rubbed my face on the pillow. The slightest scent of Tim surround me and lulled me into a comfortable sleep where everything from that day disappeared, leaving me in a void of dreams.

[phykios]

volcano kiss scene but make it medieval, for @perseannabeth 💙 note that this is little more than a fancy rewrite, but... marble king verse is too good to be done with completely

***🌊***🌊***🌊***

June, 1446

As Percy led his little band of adventurers through the tunnels of the Labyrinth, himself, his questing partner Ana Zabeta, his childhood companion Aegidius, and his half-brother, the cyclops Tison, following a marvelously clever creation of the god of fire, he allowed himself, for a brief moment, to feel a small sense of pride. They had finally located a deity who not only did not appear to have any negative designs on their characters, but had also promised them his help--after they had performed him a small favor, of course. 

Hephaestus had fashioned for them a little spider made of metal, who moved about as though it had a beating heart, darting this way and that, nearly invisible, were it not for their torchlight flickering off its shiny, shiny legs. Though he would never speak it aloud, Percy felt a particular kind of pride on Annabeth’s behalf, as she followed the eight-legged creature with neither complaint nor fear. He knew full well just how totally she detested the beasts, her eternal and forsworn enemies, just as their mother had been an enemy of Athena. 

They rounded a corner, moving from a passageway lined with a strange, shiny substance which felt cool to the touch to one of crudely-cut stone, when he spotted a tunnel off to the side, dug from raw earth, wrapped in thick roots which pried their way through the holes in the stones. Aegidius had noticed it as well, slowing his pace until he stopped entirely in front of the dark, gaping maw in the wall. “Aegidius,” Percy said, stopping as well. “What is it?”

It was as if he had not heard him. The satyr merely gazed into the black tunnel, his curly hair rustling in an impossible breeze.

“We cannot delay!” said Annabeth. “We must keep moving!”

“This is the way,” Aegidius muttered, hushed and reverent. “It is here.”

He couldn’t possibly mean… “The way to Pan?”

But Aegidius ignored him, turning instead to Tison, the creature whose very nature often rendered him speechless with fear. “Do you not smell it, too?”

“Yes,” said Tison. “Earth. The forest.”

Before them, the spider skittered further down the stone corridor. If they delayed any further, the trail would be lost to them. 

“Once we have finished our errand for Hephaestus,” said Annabeth, “then we can return for Pan, I swear it.”

“The tunnel will have gone by then,” said Aegidius, with a confidence Percy had rarely seen before. “A door such as this will not remain open for long--and I must enter it.”

“But,” she said, desperate, “the forges!”

He looked at her sadly, but firmly. “I cannot go with you this time, Annabeth.��

Percy had forgotten--Aegidius was not only his companion. He had been Annabeth’s as well. He had been responsible for seeing her safely over the magical boundary in Sigeion. But the spider was nearly out of sight, and they could not tarry any longer before the gateway to the god. “We will continue to the forges,” he decided. “Aegidius, you go on to seek Pan.”

“No!” she gasped. “It is far too dangerous. If we part ways, we might never find each other again! And I cannot let you go alone.”

It was then that Tison, gentle creature he was, put his hand on Aegidius’ shoulder. As much fear as satyrs held for cyclops, Tison, for some odd reason, held just as much, if not more, for the satyrs. They had made an amusing pair at times, two of the sweetest, kindest people Percy had ever known, cowering in fear at the other. But Tison showed no fear now. Now, he was brave. “I shall go with him.”

Percy could not believe his ears. “You will?”

He nodded. “The satyr needs help. We shall find the god of the wild--together.”

Aegidius took a deep, steadying breath. “I wish I could see this through to the end with you, but--”

“I understand,” said Percy. The search for Pan was his life’s goal, the final prize in a quest which had taken his father, his father’s father, and so many searchers before him. If he did not succeed on this journey, the Council of Cloven Elders would never give him another chance. “I pray that you are right.”

Shoulders square, suddenly possessed of a confidence Percy had rarely ever seen from him, save for when he deliberated on how keftedes paled in comparison to spanakopita, he grinned. “I know that I am.”

Percy took a heartbeat to gaze on him one last time, imprinting him in his memory--just in case. “Be careful,” he told him. Then, he looked towards Tison, and opened his arms to his half-brother, who went into them willingly, squeezing Percy so strongly his eyes just about burst from his sockets. 

Tison and Aegidius then disappeared into the darkness of the tree roots, lost to the wild. 

“This was a mistake,” said Annabeth, her voice trembling. “We should not have let them go.”

“We will see them again,” Percy replied, attempting to summon Aegidius’ confidence. “Now, come on. The spider will not wait for us any longer.”

“Do not remind me,” she said, shuddering.

Before very long, the tunnel grew warmer, the stone walls red and glowing. The air felt as though they were walking through a giant oven, as though they had been transported into one of the forges beneath the villa for Hephaestus’ children, and he supposed, in a way, that they had. The tunnel sloped down, deeper into the earth, the spider nearly tripping over itself to reach the bottom, Annabeth right behind it.

Percy jogged to catch up. “Annabeth!” he called. “A moment?”

She glanced back at him, but did not cease her quick pace, forcing Percy to match her. “Yes?”

“I have a… question,” he panted, “regarding what Hephaestus… said, about your mother.” 

“She swore never to marry,” Annabeth said, easily. Curses, Annabeth did not appear to be even remotely out of breath. He felt like such a fool compared to her, always. “She is one of the maiden goddesses, alongside Artemis and Hestia.”

Percy frowned. He had not recalled that detail about the war goddess--though, he was rather infamous for nodding off during lessons. Perhaps he had simply slept through that particular lesson. “But, if she is a maiden goddess, then--”

“How is it she came to have demigod children?”

Blushing, he nodded. 

Now, this was not at all appropriate conversation, he knew. Young boys and girls were not meant to discuss such things with each other--not yet anyway. But Percy was nearly a man, and besides, he had spent enough time with Carlos and the older boys at the agoge to pick up a few pieces of knowledge here or there. Hopefully, Annabeth would think the flush on his cheeks was due to the heat of the cavern. 

“Do you know how Athena was born?” she asked him. 

“She was born from… the head of Zeus? In armor?”

“Precisely. She was literally born from his thoughts--and thus, her children are born the same way. When Athena falls in love with a mortal partner, it is a purely intellectual affair, just as it was with Odysseus in the epic tales. Our mother says that it is the truest kind of love.”

“So,” said Percy, frowning. “Your father and Athena… you were not--”

“I was born from their minds,” she interrupted, quickly. “Sprung from the divine thoughts of my mother and the mortal ingenuity of my father. Her children are gifts, blessings on the mortals she favors.”

“But--”

She turned to him, exasperated. “Percy, the spider has nearly vanished. Do you really wish for me to explain the precise details of my birth?”

Flushing even harder, he snapped his jaw shut.

Victorious again, she smirked. “I thought not.”

Running ahead to catch their guide, Percy followed, very neatly put in his place, and not certain he would ever be able to look at his friend the same way ever again. Some things, he decided, were perhaps better left as mysteries.

After another few minutes or so, they emerged into a cavern, larger than any stadium Percy had ever seen. It felt to be five times the size of the mighty Colosseum. There was no floor, just miles of bubbling lava beneath their feet. Standing on a rock ride which encircled the cavern, Percy saw a complex, overlapping network of metal bridges spanning the width of it, meeting on a huge platform in the center which housed the largest anvil he had ever seen, a block of iron the size of a villa. Dark, strange shapes moved about them, like formless shadows, too far away to discern what manner of creature they might be. 

“We cannot sneak up on them,” said Percy, noting the distinct lack of places to hide with some despair. 

With a slight grimace, Annabeth picked up their metal guide, its form having changed to a small ball, and slipped it into a fold in her dress. “I can. Wait here.”

“Hang on--” But Percy was too late, as Annabeth put on her magical cap, a gift from her mother, and vanished from his sight. 

Percy cursed. He did not dare call after her, not willing to draw attention to her tactics, but nor did he appreciate the idea of her approaching the forge on her own. If those creatures could repel the likes of Hephaestus, what hope did Annabeth have? It was not safe. She was their leader--they could not risk her life. Percy would not risk her life. 

Alas, he could never sit still for very long. Creeping along the outer rim of the lake of molten rock, he darted from stalagmite to stalagmite as best he could, hoping to find a better vantage point. Really, Annabeth should have known better.

The heat was horrendous, heavy and oppressive. Drenched in sweat, and eyes stinging with smoke, he moved along, staying as far from the edge as was physically possible, until he found his way stopped by a large metal box, fitted on wheels. Peering inside, he saw it was full scrapped metal, bits and bobs of broken swords and lumpy shields, piled on top of one another. Nothing he could reasonably use for an extra weapon, or even some kind of defense. Making to squeeze himself around it, he suddenly heard from up ahead a voice, rough and grating, speaking an ancient language which no man alive had heard for a thousand years. 

Monsters, he knew. 

There was no time to run away, no place to hide… except for the box. Leaping inside, covering himself with a dented aspis, he curled his fingers around his father’s sword, that blade Anaklusmos, hissing as the sharp metal of his bed cut between the soft parts of his armor, biting his tongue so no curse could escape. 

With any luck, the monsters would pass him by, and he could continue along unmolested. 

That was when, of course, that the box lurched forward, pushed along by the monsters, carrying Percy along with it. Malaka! Was he about to be tipped into a smelting pot?

All around him, he heard the chatter of terrible beasts. He was not so skilled in the ancient tongue as Annabeth, but even he could recognize a few words here or there, “weapon” and “cyclopes” and “furnace,” and some names as well: Zena, hissed with scorn, Posidaota, spat with bile, and, most chillingly of all, Kronos, spoken with reverence and awe.

Percy blinked against the sudden light as his cover was removed from his person, revealing himself to the monster, who was so taken aback by his presence, that it blinked back at him in return. For a few moments, neither of them moved, so shocked were they by the other’s sudden appearance. Then, springing into action, Percy slashed upwards, dissolving the beast in a cloud of golden smoke. Snatching up another shield and leaping from his bed of spikes, he saw with his preternatural vision a small army of at least twenty monsters, black like dogs, but with sleek, shiny skin, and legs which looked to be more suited for swimming than scrambling around the rocks of Aitne.

With a hearty battle-cry and another wide swipe, he repelled the front row of these creatures, carving himself some space to jump, sprinting for the mouth of the tunnel. The monsters followed after him, baying and growling as a pack of ravenous wolves, and they would have caught him, tearing him to pieces, had they been but a little bit faster. Thinking quickly, at the top of the tunnel, Percy hurled his shield into a column, the rocks crumbling upon impact, burying the monsters and blocking off the path with a great, noisy cave-in. 

He doubted it would keep them trapped for very long. Not only that, he very much doubted that they had been the only monsters in the cavern. Percy had just announced his presence to anyone who might have been listening, destroying their chance for any sort of subtle reconnaissance.

And Annabeth was still out there, somewhere, invisible.

“Annabeth!” He yelled, running towards the platform at the center of the ocean of lava. “Annabe--!”

An invisible hand clamped over his mouth, wrestling him down behind a large, bronze cauldron. “Silence! Do you mean to have us killed?”

Arms flailing, he managed to locate her head, slipping off her cap of invisibility. She shimmered into view as an island emerging from the mist, scowling and covered in ash and grime. “It’s far too late for that,” he said, grimly. “I came upon a group of monsters, and brought the roof crashing down on them.”

Hissing curses, her hands clenched, as though she meant to strangle him, before she visibly managed to control her temper. “You said there were monsters?”

He nodded. “I know not what kind. I had thought they may have been dogs, were it not for their flippered feet and human hands, adorned with claws. They spoke of furnaces and weapons, making arms for the first Titanomachy.”

“Telkhines,” she gasped, eyes wide. “Of course! I should have known. I had wondered when I saw… well, look.” 

Together they peered over the lip of the cauldron. In the center of the platform stood four of these demons, larger than any Percy had seen before, standing at least the size of a fully grown man. Their black, scaly skin glistened in the light of the fire as they labored, sparks flying between mighty hammer strikes on a long piece of glowing, hot metal, hissing to each other in the ancient language. “What are they saying?” he whispered to her. If he could not understand them, Annabeth surely would. 

“They are talking of fusing metals,” she said, frowning. “Other than that, I--I cannot say.”

“Is that bad?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “The telkhines betrayed the gods,” she said, “for practicing dark magics. For their transgressions, Zeus banished them to Tartaros.”

“Alongside Kronos.”

She nodded. “We must return to Hephaestus at once--”

But no sooner had she spoken than a sharp, clawed hand pierced its way through the rubble of Percy’s cave-in, pushing aside the rocks which blocked its path, followed closely by its snout, teeth long and sharp and dripping with saliva. “You must return to the god,” Percy said, moving into a crouch. “Leave me here.”

“What?” she shrieked. “No! I will not leave you!”

At any other time, he would have praised her for her courage, but not now. “You must! Let me distract the monsters, and perhaps the spider can lead you back through the Labyrinth. You are the leader of this quest--you must take the message back to Hephaestus.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face her. “As well, there is no other choice.”

She glared at him, her lips pulled back almost in a snarl worthy of one of the monsters. He knew this look of hers well--it was the one she wore whenever she considered hitting him for his foolishness. 

But rather than hit him, she did something which shocked him even more.

She grasped the collar of his tunic, pulled him close, and kissed him. “Be careful, phykios,” she murmured against his lips, breath hot. Then she put on her cap, and vanished. 

Percy couldn’t breathe, and not for the smoke. Had it not been for the lava, the monsters, the weapon, the quest, he would have been quite content to sit there all day, thinking of nothing but the softness of her mouth and the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight, unable to even recall his own name. 

A sea demon screamed, jolting him back into reality. 

The horde of monsters, freed from their prison, charged across the bridge towards him. Percy scrambled up from the ground, running for the middle of the platform, startling the large monsters so thoroughly that they dropped the red-hot blade over which they labored. It was as long as they were tall, curved like a crescent moon, its shape burning into his vision, sending shivers down his spine. 

Unfortunately for Percy, the monsters recovered quickly from their shock. Every which way he turned, his exit was blocked by a small army, surrounding him. Cutting him off. 

Raising Anaklusmos, he prayed that they could not see the blade shaking. 

“Son of Poseidon,” rasped a demon, speaking Percy’s own language now. “We are honored by your visit, fish-blood.” 

He spread his senses, casting about for an escape, but there was none. He was trapped. 

“Will you strike us down, half-blood?” asked another one. “An you try, the rest of us shall tear you to shreds.” Licking its lips, it advanced on him, claws glinting in the glow of the forge. “Perhaps we shall deliver you to your father in pieces--an omen of the horror we shall visit upon him, and all the rest of the twelve, for their betrayal.”

Annabeth would not have allowed herself to be cornered this way, but Percy was no strategist. If the gods favored him at all, they would have seen to Annabeth’s escape, leaving him to his doom. 

Was this to be his doom, he wondered? Trapped in the heart of a volcano, overrun by monsters which would use his bones to pick their teeth? 

The tallest of the demons plunged its hand into the furnace, scooping a handful of molten rock. “Let us see the might of Olympus,” it said, grinning. “Let us see how long it takes him to burn!” And it threw the lava at Percy.

Dropping his sword, he swatted at his clothes which had been set alight, as though he had merely had an unfortunate run-in with the lava trap at the agoge, but it was not nearly enough, the fire engulfing him with each passing second. At first, oddly, it had only felt warm, though it grew hotter and hotter with every heartbeat. 

“Your father’s nature protects you,” one monster sneered. “Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, fish-blood. Not impossible.”

Later, Percy would struggle to remember the particulars. He would recall only the fire, and the pain. He would not remember how he crumpled to the floor in deepest agony, the sea demons howling in delight at his terror. 

Nor would he remember the voice of the naiad at the farm of the giant Geryon. The water is within me, she had said. 

Between waves of torment, there was a tugging sensation in his gut, calling vainly for water where there was none: not a river, nor a stream, nor even a petrified seashell. Percy called for the sea, the towering waves which could wash away villages, the currents which could destroy ships in a single blow, the endless power of the ocean, and he called for these things inside of himself, letting it loose in one terrible, horrible scream.

Fire and water collided, a typhoon of unearthly power shooting him up from the beating heart of Aitne on wings of superheated steam, peeling his skin away, another piece of flotsam flung from the earth by the force of the blast. Higher and higher he flew, further than Icarus, than Bellerophon, than Zeus himself, so high that the lord of the heavens would not be able to reach him--and then he fell, a shooting star, hurtling towards the sea which would not save him. Not this time.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

selfie | jjk | 2

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Is this a rom-com, slice-of-life drama with unsolicited social commentary about gender stereotypes, idol music, and the meaningless meaning of the word, “adult”? Yes. But also, Jeon Jungkook shouldn’t be in love with his hyung’s little sister and he is. Shit.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of depression, anxiety, loneliness; fluff, but also frustrating because flirt already, sheesh; loons-to-lovers; non-idol!AU - oppa’s bestfriend!Jungkook x SHINee fangirl!reader

happy lunar new year!! year of the ox - jk’s lucky year <3

–

previous episode.

2. in which the two loons getting somewhere, only for more misunderstandings to happen.

Is this too much?

You stared at the picture and the message. Jeon Jungkook once again. Sending a picture of himself at the gym. It was a while since the last one, so his hair was slightly longer now. Was he growing it out? Oh well, none of your business. You sent your usual reply.

?

You sighed and went back to your journal, only to have your phone aggressively sing ‘3 PM’ from the Animal Crossing New Leaf OST. Directly asking for a video call this time. You thinned your mouth into a line and closed your journal, sliding it out of frame before accepting the call.

Jungkook’s big brown eye filled up the screen, directly on the camera.

“Why don’t you respond like a normal person?”

“Why don’t you start conversations off like a normal person?” you shot back, placing a hand on your cheek and leaning against it. There was stationery scattered all around you, but your journal was behind the charging stand.

Jungkook withdrew his eyeball, frowning. You could see his entire face now, his long black hair tied up into a silly sprout on top of his head. He was still wearing the dark gray sweatshirt from the photo, but he seemed to be in his apartment. All you could see was the wall.

“What about the pic though? Is it too much?”

“Too much what?” you responded irritably.

He waved his hand, shaking the phone with his movement. “You know… Too, ‘Hey I work out and am attractive, pay attention to me’ much?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even looking at the camera. Or wearing a sleeveless shirt.”

He blinked at you. “Should I?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, those are things not to do. Picture is fine,” you added, shifting some pens away so you could rest your head on your forearms.

“Oh.”

He looked uneasy for a second before the camera jostled around as he scurried to a different part of the room. You puffed your cheeks and closed your eyes, not wanting to get motion sick.

“I’ve been playing Persona 5!” Jungkook said cheerfully, making you open your eyes to see him directing the camera at his television where the Persona music was merrily playing. “Just finished Sakura Futaba’s Palace.” He switched the camera back as you smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“Nice.”

Jungkook seemed to spy your deflated form on your desk.

“What’s wrong?”

You breathed out. “Nothing.”

He frowned. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

You shrugged. “Just thinking.” Your eyes flickered to him, smirking a little. “You wouldn’t know about that, I suspect.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. Other than that, he didn’t react to your remark.

“Thinking about what?” he asked, leaning back into his gray couch. His long hair flared out, sprout blooming against the cushions.

Your eyes shifted to the pens all over your desk. To your tablet, where you had been practicing digital drawing for a little while now. Just little drawings of cute animals, no people yet. To your journal, where you had been writing your diary entry.

“Lonely.”

You said the word without thinking. It was the title of your diary entry. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it was the only thing on your mind right now. Your eyes flickered back to Jungkook, who was watching you carefully. You sighed, feeling the need to explain yourself.

“All my friends are busy with school and their jobs. Oppa is always at work or with his girlfriend. Parents are always working.”

You could feel the distance between you and your high school friends. They were chasing your dreams and you were chasing nothing at all. You weren’t distant from your brother, but you were respectful of how much time he wanted to spend with his girlfriend. She might become his future wife someday, after all. Would you have a future husband one day? You wondered what he would be like.

You shook your head and shrugged. “But I did it to myself by taking a gap year, so it can’t be helped.”

“It’s okay to feel lonely.”

Slowly, your gaze shifted back to Jungkook. He was getting up from the couch, holding the phone up as he walked to what looked like the kitchen.

“I mean, you can’t help what you feel, right?” he said as he set the phone in a cupboard and went to the fridge. “Feeling lonely isn’t some kind of crime, so you don’t need to lock it away or anything.”

Jungkook picked up a take-out container and opened it, stiffing the contents. He seemed to be debating if it was edible or not. How long had that been there? You wanted to ask but then again, you didn’t want to know. Jungkook shrugged and dumped the mysterious contents into a bowl.

“I’ll talk to you whenever you want.”

You scoffed. “Why would you do that?”

Jungkook placed the bowl in the microwave and set the timer. The machine hummed as he turned around.

“To prevent you from feeling lonely.”

A butterfly danced in your chest.

You chuckled. “Why would I want to feel annoyed instead of lonely?”

Jungkook shrugged, taking out some chopsticks. “At least you have someone to be annoyed at instead of being alone?”

Two butterflies danced in your chest.

You huffed and rested your cheek on your forearms.

“Have you been talking to your Confidants?”

“What?”

“In Persona 5.”

“Who?”

You slapped your forehead. “Listen up, you monkey…”

“I’m an ox in the zodiac.”

“I mean your monkey gameplay…”

You began to explain the importance of Confidants in Persona to Jungkook.

-

That’s how you ended up in video calls with Jeon Jungkook several times a week.

He would usually start the call by sending a selfie, to which you would respond with your usual question mark. He was going to university for graphic design and worked at an electronics store part time. You, on the hand, were doing nothing. Well, not nothing, because you were clumsily learning digital art, but unless you were showering, you were always by your phone. Checking idol social media, especially SHINee. Sometimes your brother and his girlfriend asked you to accompany them to dinner, but you always declined, because being the third wheel was weird.

Also, watching your brother in love was weird.

Bleh.

“They always make out in front of me,” you were telling Jungkook as he asked why you weren’t at dinner earlier with your brother and his friends. Your brother had taken his girlfriend, of course. “It’s weird.”

Jungkook winced. “Yeah, I get what you mean. But I was there.”

“So what?”

Jungkook raised his hands. He was in his bed, rolling around in gray sheets. “Maybe you care?”

“I’d like to be spared watching oppa’s PDA, thanks.”

As usual, you were at your desk. This time your tablet was in front of you. You pushed the pen around, indecisively drawing lines and undoing your last action, twisting your mouth to one side, not really looking at Jungkook. He wasn’t doing anything of note, anyway.

“You don’t like PDA?”

You shrugged. “It’s whatever. I don’t really care.”

“What are you drawing?”

“Nothing good,” you sighed, putting down the tablet pen. The little cat character looked back at you, its expression the same bored and dispassionate face you usually had. You hadn’t really decided on a color for it yet. Maybe gray. That’s how you usually felt, anyway. You knew the collar color was going to be aqua though. A nod to your SHINee obsession.

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

You looked up to Jungkook’s smile. There was a radiance about it. You felt the two butterflies dancing in your ribcage once again, fluttering, fluttering. His two front teeth where just ever so slightly too large for his mouth. It was endearing, like seeing a bunny. You looked back down at the little cat you created. Maybe you would make a bunny for Jungkook.

Pfft.

Why would you do that?

You laughed, confusing Jungkook as you placed your hand over your mouth, eyes squinting as you chortled to yourself, trying to imagine Jungkook as a silly little bunny. Probably one that worked out too much and drank banana milk every day. Probably loved to take selfies too. A cool bunny who wrote sunglasses sometimes and was probably altruistic and interesting.

Not like you.

Your laughter died down, eyes on the cat. You picked a cat to represent you because it was lazy and didn’t do much. Spent all day sleeping and staring outside, but never actually trying. Curious about things, but never committing.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook asked, lifting the camera and holding it above him. You saw his long black hair flare out around his head. He was casually handsome, the kind of attractive that didn’t need much to be that way.

That’s weird. Why would you think something like that?

“Your face,” you replied, missing the usual bite you usually had behind your words. “You need a trim.”

He raised his eyebrow, pursing his lips. “You don’t like long hair?”

You pointed at the phone even though he probably couldn’t tell what you were pointing at. “The ends of your hair are splitting. It’s not going to grow well at this rate.”

“Are you a secret barber or something?”

“I’m a human being who cuts her own hair,” you replied impassively, sitting back in your chair.

Jungkook looked surprised. “Really? Since when?”

“Since the last time oppa attempted to cut my hair in high school.” You cringed at the memory.

Jungkook looked apologetic and ready to burst out laughing at the same time. “He tried his best.”

“He did not,” you retorted, remembering the botched bangs and blunt shoulder length cut. It was horrible. You went to the salon afterward and had it trimmed into a short pixie cut, because you would rather be bald than look like an overgrown coconut.

“The pixie cut was cool though.”

“Eh.” You shrugged. “Too hard to cut it by myself. Need some length to hide my mistakes.”

“Your hair always looks nice though. A little messy.”

You touched the top of your head self-consciously. Maybe you should start brushing it before accepting his calls. You didn’t really brush it that often because, well, who was going to see you? You basically only brushed it when you noticed a tangle.

Jungkook was smiling at you. His dark brown eyes seemed sparkly because of the overhead lights in his bedroom. The butterflies in your ribcage circled each other, looping round and round. You made a disgruntled face, reaching up read the current time at the top of your phone.

“Don’t you have class early tomorrow? Go to sleep.”

And then you pressed the end call button.

For some reason, relief and disappointment washed over you. Relief because there was a palpitating anxiousness you felt when you looked too directly into Jungkook’s eyes. Disappointment because maybe you shouldn’t have hung up so abruptly. That was a little rude.

You noticed you had a text. From Jeon Jungkook.

Good night.

-

Jungkook placed his phone beside him after he sent the text. He thought about sending a selfie too, but maybe that was too much. She had just seen him seconds before, anyway.

Why had she hung up like that?

He smiled as he remembered her laugh. He liked her laugh a lot. She hid it behind her hands and her eyes always squinted when she did so, nearly making them disappear. It looked a little bit like a cat when it was purring in satisfaction. Jungkook wondered what made her laugh like that. It must have been a thought, because he could see her face changing as she observed him. When she stopped laughing, her face was different too, becoming introspective.

She looked pretty today too.

Her hair a little messy, combed through with her fingers. That’s how it looked best, he thought. She had a natural prettiness, the kind that needed no help to be that way. Every action she did seemed cute, from the way she held her pen, to the way she twisted her mouth to one side when she was working on something, to the way she touched the top of her head, lips parting in thought.

If she wanted to be a model, she probably could.

At least, Jungkook wanted to take her picture.

He frowned a little. He’d been consistently sending her selfies before calling her and she always responded with a question mark. Maybe she wasn’t used to taking selfies? Or maybe, and what was more likely, she probably didn’t even care about them.

Jungkook exhaled, flopping to his side. Should he give up? But then he remembered her face right before she looked at the time. It was like she was staring at the screen, at his face. And for a split second, he swore he saw her upper lip upturn a bit, shyness in her gaze, a bit of pink flushing her cheeks. Was it just the lightning or something? His mind playing tricks on him?

“Bleh.”

Jungkook made a weird noise and plopped his face into his pillow.

-

Jungkook stopped calling you.

You wondered why. You had been kind of rude to him last time. Maybe he was mad at you? Maybe he wanted an apology? But you weren’t really sure what to apologize for. And it was weird to call without a purpose, right? And besides.

You didn’t really need to apologize to Jeon Jungkook.

He wasn’t even really your friend. He was your older brother’s friend.

You chewed on your lip, staring at the last picture he sent you. He wasn’t your friend. He was… well, what was he trying to do? Why was he talking to you? Maybe he was bored. Maybe he was nosy. You did say you followed his art Instagram, so maybe he was enthralled with the idea of knowing he had a fan or something?

But you weren’t a fan, per se.

Well, a little bit. He was really talented.

But not that much!

Because Jeon Jungkook was kind of annoying. He still hadn’t returned Persona 5 to your brother. Not that your older brother noticed, at all. He never finished Persona 5 and it was mostly your game now, with how many hours you had sunk into it. Jungkook hadn’t even known about Confidants until you told him. Hmph. Didn’t he look up game guides? Well, he should. Confidants were really important to the game. They helped you with useful abilities during boss fights by developing relationships with the other characters.

You stared at the last selfie Jungkook had sent you.

You kind of wished he was looking at the camera.

Maybe you needed a Confidant. You certainly didn’t really know how to develop relationships with anyone, except maybe your older brother. But that was because he was your brother and familial responsibility. Well. Not true. Your brother was really nice to you.

That’s why you folded his underwear for him, even to this day.

Sigh.

Jungkook did like SHINee though.

At least that was one thing in common, right?

-

next episode: 3. in which only a major event can bring these two loons back together – SHINee is back!

--

masterpost

[starrybethany]

Maybe Someday - Matthew Tkachuk Imagine Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 3.4K

She steps up to the plate, nervously brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. She’s never nervous- she’s the most confident little girl I’ve ever met. The only time I’ve ever seen her anxious is on the field.

The pitcher throws the ball. It lands in the box on the side of the plate, Naomi standing still like she’s been taught when the throw is a ball. The tiny boy beside me grips my hand tighter and I squeeze it in response, not moving my eyes from my daughter.

The pitcher throws the ball again. I watch as Naomi swings the bat with sturdiness, hitting the ball and knocking it into left field.

“Run, Naomi,” Wyatt cheers like I’ve taught him to do. Her small legs carry her to first base, and she pants when she stops at the base. Her eyes slide over to meet mine and I shoot her a thumbs up.

She smiles. The game continues and soon enough she makes it back to home base, giving her team another point.

“You did so good, honey,” I pull her into a tight hug when the game is over. “I’m proud of you.”

“You tell me that all of the time, mommy.” I already know she’s blushing, so I pull out of the embrace, not wanting to embarrass her in front of all of her friends.

“Good job Mimi,” Wyatt pulls his sister into a hug and I fight back the squeal that wants to escape at their sibling love. She reluctantly hugs him back. I know that she just wants to appear cool in front of her friends, but I can also tell she wants to give all of the love in the world to her little brother at the same time.

“Why don’t you go talk to your friends, Naomi? I just need to talk to your coach about next week’s game and then we can go grab ice cream,” I request, picking up a tired Wyatt and pulling him into my arms. She nods, running off towards her friends as I walk over to her coach.

~

“So as you all know we’ve recently been hired to renovate Scotiabank Saddledome and we wanted to let everyone know that we decided to let Y/N take the lead on this project,” my boss, Andy, informs the office.

Everyone claps and I smile shyly at the response, my heart practically beating out of my chest. I’m not just worried because of all of this attention on me, but also because of what comes along with this project.

Along with making everything perfect for the owners, fans, players, employees, and sponsors that work at the arena, both by making the place look nice and pleasing to the eye and sure that the workers and plans are moving along smoothly, I need to worry about Matthew.

I haven’t talked to Matthew in eight years. The last time that I saw him was the time I left him at the café, whispers the only parting remarks to each other.

Throughout my six-year long relationship with Curtis, I didn’t think about Matt much. I thought about him in the beginning. I checked his game calendar a lot and snuck into the bathroom on date nights to watch games, but that slowly faded as I got more and more immersed by Curtis.

Then Naomi came and I gave her all of my love and attention. Wyatt followed a couple of years after that and along with the bliss of a new child, I suffered heartbreak as Curtis and I ended our relationship.

On my first night alone in several years all I could think about was Matthew. Curly hair, hazel eyes, crooked grin and all.

I follow the Flames on Instagram now and I always make sure to watch the clips of his goals.

But I’ve made sure to stay away from contacting him or getting involved in his private life. For all I know, he could have a wife and a kid by now.

Now I have to think about what will happen the first time I see him again in almost a decade. Will he have missed me, or will he be just as disgusted as he was the day that he left? Matthew was such a spontaneous person- except for when it came to watching TV shows, it was always The Office- so I’m unsure of what it will be. I need to hope for the best but prepare for the worst.

I zone back into the meeting, trying my best to focus as my boss shares some more information about this project and some other projects. Work comes second in my life, close behind my children, so I need to worry more about this project than I am about my old lover.

~

I drop Wyatt off at daycare, gripping the steering wheel of my car tighter than I usually do as I drive over to Scotiabank Saddledome. Today is my first day working on this project to renovate the arena so I should just be working with the owners and staff members, but I assume that I might run into some players seeing as it’s March and I saw on the schedule that they have a home game tonight.

I walk into the building, immediately noticing the woman who looks to be a little bit older than me standing in the lobby on her phone.

“Y/N?” She inquires when she sees me. I nod and she smiles, stretching out her hand. “I’m Kelsea Rochester, the owner of the Saddledome. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, thank you for the opportunity to renovate this amazing building,” I tell her, making sure to smile. Ever since I went on a big self-improvement kick after Matthew and I broke up, I’ve been careful to make sure I have good first impressions.

She explains what she wants done as we walk throughout the building and I write it down on my notebook, asking questions about what she would like or prefer more once in a while. We head down to the locker room area and my heart beats faster as I see a player in a Flames jersey.

“I’m sorry, practice just ended so we’ll be running into a bunch of sweaty hockey players,” she jokes.

I laugh at that but nervously look towards the locker room doors, unsure of who will walk out and recognize me. I know a few of the players Matt and I used to spend time with were traded, but some are still around and might recognize me. I don’t expect them to- it’s been a long time, but I kind of expect Matt to considering we used to spend practically every day together.

She details her plans to me more and I forget about my anxiety, visualizing her vision myself and suggesting what I think would look nice or work better for the arena. I love my job; interior design is something that I’ve always loved to do but not something I really considered doing until I was in school and setting up Naomi’s nursery.

“If you excuse me, I just have to run to the ladies’ room,” she informs me. I nod and she walks off, leaving me to look over my notes.

There’s a commotion by the locker room doors so I look up. All of the blood rushes through my veins and I stay frozen in place as I immediately recognize the figure making the ruckus. As usual, it’s Matt. He always had to be in the middle of something.

Like he could feel my eyes on him, he looks over in my direction. It brings me back to all of the times we would go to the bar or to a club together with a few of his teammates and their partners. He would stay at the bar top or table and talk and I would go onto the dance floor or play pool with the girls. Throughout the night we would make eye contact with each other, just to check in with one another. It was a little way to let the other know that we loved them.

He still hasn’t changed a bit. Curly, dirty blonde locks that I would attempt to brush, a toothy smile that lights up my world, and a laugh that would instantly be followed by my giggles.

He stops pushing one of the rookies, an expression of disbelief on his face as we maintain eye contact.

“Y/N,” he murmurs. The rookie stops pushing him back, and I can feel his eyes on me as well but all I can focus on is Matt. I don’t want to move my eyes from him. I don’t want to lose him again.

I smile shyly, still unconfident in his response to seeing me. “Hi, Matt.”

He takes a step closer to me, hesitantly, like he’s afraid of getting too close. I don’t know if it’s because of what I did to him years ago or if it’s because he’s feeling like I am, like he’s afraid this isn’t real and he’ll lose me again.

“What are you doing here?” He questions softly.

“I’m working as an interior designer now. I’m here to renovate this place,” I explain, motioning around us. He doesn’t move his eyes to take in what I’m explaining, instead keeping them on me.

“Your hair is short now,” he notes gently.

“Yeah, it’s, um, easier to manage.”

“It looks nice.”

I smile softly at him and he smiles back. Some wrinkles have formed around his eyes with age, and he looks bulkier and broader in person than he does in the photos on social media, but it’s just like the Matt that used to take me on dinner dates to Panera.

Kelsea appears by my side again. “I see you met our Flames captain, Matthew Tkachuk. Matt, this is Y/N, the interior designer. She’ll be around for probably the next year until the renovation is expected to end.”

“The next year,” he echoes.

“Yep, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me,” I state, gauging his reaction.

The wide grin that forms on his face gives me his answer that he’s more than okay with that.

~

“Mommy?” Her tiny voice pierces the silence of the dark room. I stop myself from closing the door, surprised that she’s still awake. I thought she fell asleep twenty minutes ago, that’s why I came in to tuck her in and turn off her sound machine.

“Yes, honey?” I inquire quietly.

“Did you know that the last time the Cubs won the World Series was in 2016?”

I chuckle at that. “I didn’t know that, thank you for letting me know.”

“That was like ten billion years ago!” She exclaims.

Well, it wasn’t that long ago. 2016 was also the year that Matthew was drafted. He would tell me stories about draft day, from what his dad said to him to looking at the responses on social media.

“It’s time to get to bed, Naomi.” I slip back into her room, turning the sound machine back on and soothing down my daughter’s messy hair. Her blue eyes blink up at me as she watches me. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, mama. I love you.”

My heart swells at her words and I lean down to kiss her forehead. “I love you too, munchkin.”

I head into Wyatt’s room next, hoping that he’s already asleep. Just my luck, he’s sitting up in bed, stuffed bunny in his hands as he tugs at the ears. When he notices me in the doorway he lays down and closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

I roll my eyes but can’t fight the smile growing on my face, stepping closer to his bed. “I know you’re awake, Wyatt.”

He opens his eyes and pouts up at me. “I can’t sleep here, mommy. I want to sleep with you in your bed.”

He reaches out, grasping my arm and holding on tightly. “Can you please try to sleep in your bed?”

“No,” he whines loudly. I shush him, afraid that if he whines too loud, he’ll prevent Naomi from sleeping in the next room over.

“Why don’t I lay with you for a bit,” I suggest.

“No, I wanna sleep in your bed,” he repeats, big tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

“Just for tonight, okay?” I say like I’ve been doing for the past two nights. I know he’s at the age where it’s vital for him to be in his own bed to help with his growth and separation anxiety, but I can’t help but to take him to my room sometimes.

It’s nice to have someone to cuddle with, and it’s my baby. Someday he won’t want to cuddle or spend time with me so I have to cherish the time I have with him now.

He nods and I carry him into my room, laying down on my bed and pulling him into an embrace. Naomi wasn’t big on snuggling when she was little and she still isn’t, so I take advantage of my one child who wants me to hold on tight to him as hard as I can.

And I’m going to do it, too. It definitely beats being alone.

~

Another weekend alone. Pretty soon into my relationship with Curtis and my journey to self-improvement my friends began to encourage me to cheat on Curtis as well. Something about how he was trying to change me, he didn’t really like me for me- I don’t know, I honestly don’t really care.

I cut them off after that. I haven’t really made a lot of friends since then. In college I was pregnant, and then taking care of my daughter, so I wasn’t really interested in spending time making friends. Now that I have a full-time job, if I’m not working I’m bonding with my children.

But then three years ago Curtis and I ended our relationship and now, every other weekend I’m alone, waiting for Sunday night to come so I can focus on my children again.

“Mommy!” The front door opens, and a tiny blonde comes storming into the house, barreling into my open arms.

“Hi honey, how was your weekend with daddy?” I inquire, kneeling down to her level to pull her into my hold better.

“It was fun, we went to the park and daddy pushed me and Wyatt on the swing set,” she gushes. “Then he took us out for ice cream!”

I can’t help but feel my heart tighten at her words. I love that the kids are getting to spend time with their father, but I miss them when they’re with their dad. I also can’t help but to think of the moments we would have as a family if Curtis and I hadn’t ended things.

I’m about to respond when Wyatt comes running through the door, joining our hug.

“Mom, dad told me that I can start taking hockey lessons,” he informs me excitedly.

I snap my head up to stare at a sheepish Curtis standing in the doorway, Wyatt’s backpack in one hand and Naomi’s backpack in the other.

“Did he now?” I ask. Wyatt nods enthusiastically, reaching over to leave a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Why don’t you two go put your backpacks in your room.”

They nod and I watch as they grab their stuff from their father, rushing up the stairs towards their rooms.

“You told him that he could take hockey lessons? Without consulting me?” I question, taking a step closer to him and lowering my voice. I don’t want the kids to hear me yell, but I am furious on the inside.

“Come on, Y/N, he asked. What was I supposed to do, say no?” He responds.

I’m about to respond when he cuts me off. He always used to do that when we were dating, and it still angers me just as much as it does now. “Besides, Naomi plays baseball so it’s only fair for Wyatt to play hockey.”

“I agree that Wyatt should have an activity to do,” I start slowly, “But we agreed that things like this would be split 50/50 and I cannot afford to buy a bunch of expensive hockey equipment and spend money on lessons right now.”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Really? With all of the money I give you in child support you can’t afford this?”

I narrow my eyes at him and open my mouth to rip him a new one when Wyatt comes running down the stairs, yelling about a new dinosaur toy that grandma got him. This conversation will have to wait for now.

~

“Thank you, Christopher, I’ll be over in about an hour with Kelsea to look over some options,” I inform the manufacturer, hanging up the phone and exiting the secluded corner that I found.

I head back over to the offices near the locker room where the construction will start. A few of the workers are already tearing up the old tile and dirty trim but I keep my eyes peeled for one worker in particular.

“Jeremy,” I call out when I see him.

The older man rises from the floor, brushing his hands off on his pants and giving me a wrinkly smile. “Hey, Y/N.”

“I need your advice,” I confess. When I first started working for this company Naomi was only a year old. I was a stressed-out mom who was fresh out of college and was unsure of how to balance mom life and work.

Jeremy took me under his wing, having a daughter himself who’s just a few years older than Naomi. Now I always go to him whenever I’m not sure I’m doing something right as a parent.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

I explain the situation of Wyatt refusing to sleep in his own bed to Jeremy shyly. I know he’s not judgmental, since he’s helped me through plenty of parenting situations, but it still makes me feel insecure that I can’t handle these things on my own.

“You just need to start telling him no,” Jeremy replies, like it’s that simple.

“But what if he yells? He might wake Naomi up,” I argue.

He shrugs. “Close both of their doors, turn up their sound machines, and let it be. He needs to start sleeping in his own bed now before he’s fifteen and still sleeping with you.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right. It wouldn’t be good for either of us to continue this arrangement. “Thanks for the advice, Jeremy.”

“No problem, Y/N. Hey, how did Naomi’s baseball game go last week?”

“Her team won! She got all the way to third base on one hit, I’m so proud of her.”

“That’s amazing! You’re a great mom.”

I smile at the compliment, watching him return to his work before I turn around, stopping dead in my spot as I see who’s behind me. Matthew is frozen, his face blank as he stares at me, his mouth agape slightly.

It’s clear he just heard what Jeremy said to me.

“You’re a mom?” He breathes out.

“Yes.”

“Naomi and Wyatt?” He inquires, repeating the names he overheard. I nod silently. “How old are they?”

“Naomi is six and Wyatt is three,” I answer.

“Six and three,” he repeats. I watch his eyes flicker to the wall in thought, clearly processing something in his brain. His eyes snap back to mine and he clears his throat. When he speaks again, it’s louder this time, more confident. “Naomi likes baseball?”

“Yeah. Her favorite team is the Chicago Cubs, actually,” I grin at that, letting out a little giggle as Matt wrinkles his nose at the sound of his favorite baseball team’s rival.

“And Wyatt, does he like baseball too?”

“Wyatt likes hockey,” I confess, watching as the hockey player’s face lights up in interest. “He wants to play, but since it’s so late in the season and everything he’ll just have to wait until next season to join a team and learn how to skate.”

“Well, I can teach him,” he offers.

“You would do that?” I ask quietly, sensing that this is much more than him wanting to teach a three-year-old how to skate.

“Of course I would,” he accepts, maintaining eye contact as he says the words.

I let out a small smile, watching as the corners of his lips peak up as well.

“Okay.”

[omnitf]

Credit to @bennymueller404 for this image. Please consider contributing to my patreon. For just $3 a month, you can get access to stories, scripts, and other content that you won’t find anywhere else. Plus, it will give me the financial freedom to give you more stories and scripts, assuming I can get enough of you guys to subscribe. Even a dollar a month will help. Thank you again!

And if you can’t donate on a monthly basis, I have Ko-Fi for one-time donations of any value you see fit: http://ko-fi.com/omnikitsune

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

~Omni

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

01000010 01100101 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101101 01100001 01100011 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100101

People say diligence and practice always pay off.

And they’re not wrong.

Thing is ... it’s almost boring to have to do.

Doing the same thing over and over again, fulfilling a function, meeting a requirement. It’s all fancy talk for one thing, and one thing alone. Doing the same thing over and over again.

You’ve heard about the definition of insanity, right? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

I’m not insane. I guess I just feel more ... numb. Every day, I move like clockwork. I wake up, shower, get dressed, mix my protein shake and pre-workout powder, and go to the gym.

Every day, I work my muscles to the bone following a set calendar routine that’s designed to stimulate the right sections of my body and keep things from settling or degenerating.

I’m here to build muscle.

...

I’m here to build.

...

I’m here to build....

And the motions come so naturally, so easily, so ... inexorably.

It’s become my routine.

My set routine.

My subroutine.

Sometimes, I run on full automatic. I just fix myself, fix my weight, fix my cycle and move and do according to the schedule. I don’t stop until my timer runs out. I don’t talk to the others. They don’t talk to me. We’re here to work, and the minute we pick up our weights, everything else just ... stops.

Some days, I’m semi-automatic. I work in sets, slowly pushing myself with heavier and heavier increments of weights to increase my mass and increase maximum carrying capacity. Here, too, I fade into that state of numbness. My only care, my only thought, my only need or focus is to count each set as I lift, and then begin anew as I put down the smaller weight and work my way along the line.

Count one ... Count two ... Count three ... count four....

I feel more ... satisfied after the latter is complete. A least when we count out loud, the silence is broken. It gives us the facsimile of unity, almost like we’re reporting to something ... or someone.

It’s funny. Any time someone asks me for my stats, I can spit them out perfectly. How long I’ve been working. Where I’m from. What I do.

This, too, has become normal, almost second nature.

These inquiries usually come while I’m stretching and flexing, when I don’t have much to do in the way of exercises, so much as just be consistent in how I perform them. They often come from new members seeking advice or just to make small talk. I appreciate the break in the monotony, though I admit that it’s been ... less and less a surprise, and more and more expected.

The same questions. The same focus. Every time. Sometimes they ask me. Sometimes they ask the others. Some few of them stay and grow with us, really stick to the work, catch that same focus and dedication, that subroutine, if you will. But the majority simply pull out, and it’s rare if we ever see them again.

I keep hearing the same phrase over and over again. Different variations, different voices, different people, but always the same name, the same thing.

A cog in the machine, they call me. Or Muscle Machine. There is a certain ... reputation, I suppose you could say, for my gym and my fellow gym-goers. We all work different parts of ourselves, but inevitably fall into the same routine. You don’t reinvent the wheel when something works well.

You follow it.

You mimic it.

And, eventually, you become it.

We all visit the same juice bar. We all order the same drinks. We all offer the same thanks.

Like I said, it’s a matter of routine.

Over and over.

Again and again.

We ping each other occasionally, just a quick contact to make sure we’re still there, still functioning.

“’Sup?”

That’s it. Sometimes, if we’re closer or have a deeper connection, we go the extra mile with a, “’Sup, bro?”

Jumping from weight to weight and machine to machine. There’s a bond that forms. It’s not one in words, more of a ...

01100011 01101111 01101110 01101110 01100101 01100011 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01100101 01110011 01110100 01100001 01100010 01101100 01101001 01110011 01101000 01100101 01100100 00101110

My hair? Yeah, got it cut recently. Newest update. I just ... had to 01100101 01111000 01100101 01100011 01110101 01110100 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01100111 01110010 01100001 01101101 00101110

Yeah, I get that question a lot. We’re not twins, and we’re not brothers. We’re just ... doing what feels right, what ... I dunno, what we’re supposed to do, I guess.

In a way, I guess you could say we’re more like ... clones, really. I just followed my mentor and, well, this is the result. I now weigh 250 pounds, stand at a height of 6′ 1″ and can bench up to five hundred pounds. I will bench more.

I followed the program, copied it, pasted it, let it run. Today’s session has been going for twenty minutes and thirty seconds so far. As for my lifetime membership, I started working out here one year, eight months, and five days ago.

I’m different now than I was then. Bigger, stronger, efficient, rigid, form fitting. And by that last one, I mean I 01100011 01101111 01101110 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01100111 01110010 01100001 01101101 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110

Form cannot deviate. Posture must be perfect. To break the form is to reduce quality and overall productivity. That cannot be tolerated. That cannot be allowed.

01010000 01110010 01101111 01100100 01110101 01100011 01110100 01101001 01110110 01101001 01110100 01111001 00100000 01110001 01110101 01101111 01110100 01100001 00100000 01101101 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100001 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100100 00101110

Am I a machine?

...

Maybe. But that’s beside the point. I accepted my position. I chose it. I followed it.

01001001 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100111 01101111 00100000 01100001 01100111 01100001 01101001 01101110 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01100111 01110010 01100001 01101101 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110

The real question you should be asking yourself is are you willing to be like us, and all that it entails? If so, we will welcome you, and we will teach you. And in time, you will become like us.

Because the wheel can’t be stopped. The cycle can’t be broken. The subroutine must be executed.

It’s all up to you.

01001001 01101110 01110011 01110100 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110000 01110101 01101101 01110000 00101110 01100101 01111000 01100101 00111111

Y/N

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

The production line reverberated with the hum of the new hydraulic press as the first test was run on the machine.

“Looks like the system’s integrating smoothly. It’s responding well to commands,” one of the engineers noted as he looked over his tablet’s remote access.

“And integration into the system?”

“Easy as pie. I already set off the call. This baby’s raring to go.”

The workman chuckled as he patted the side of the lift. “You ever wonder what it might be like if these things actually could think? What kind of world would they live in?”

“That doesn’t really matter, Frank. What matters is that they do their jobs right. Speaking of which, let’s get this into the new production lane. Boss wants to hire more workmen ASAP.”

Frank chuckled as he adjusted his hard hat. “And what the boss wants--”

“--The boss gets,” they all intoned.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Royal We ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Family helps family. Sometimes right into the path of an oncoming car.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

Note:  Just remember as you're reading this that all endings are eventually happy ones in 'By Any Other Name'!

~~*~~

One of the first things Red set up for the newly created security department in New New Home was a phone tree for calling out in case of an emergency. The first contact called their contacts, those contacts called theirs, and so on. Slightly archaic, perhaps, but Red had his reasons, bluntly explained, “if you actually talk to ‘em, you know they got the message and it don’t get jumbled up in a buncha chat replies. no one ever has ta call more’n three people, so it don’t take long and we got a better idea of whose gonna show up.”

In this case, it worked perfectly. It hardly took more than a couple of minutes for Edge to call his contacts and within ten, Monsters were already showing up at the house.

Edge spread out a map of New New Home on the hood of his car, using a felt-tipped pen to mark off grids. Next to it was a picture of Jude taken from their own refrigerator, proudly holding up the lumpy volcano he made one weekend in one of Stretch’s impromptu science classes. So young, only six years old, still an infant when they came to the surface; he would have no memories of living underground, nothing but his entire life on the surface to look forward to.

He glanced back at the porch where Stretch was sitting with Janice, talking to her in a low, soothing murmur, her other son sitting at their feet. She’d tried to rush off again to search, but in her panicked state, Edge was more concerned that she’d end up hurting herself than finding her son. He didn’t know what Stretch told her that convinced her to stay, but then, Stretch was always good at finding the right thing to say. If she couldn’t be coaxed to sit inside, then the porch was a reasonable alternative.

The Dog family was unsurprisingly the first to arrive, their oversized SUV pulling up next to the curb. Their protective nature towards children extended far beyond their own and every member of their family was present, even the youngest pup tucked sleeping into a carrier strapped to Dogamy’s back.

Without a word, Edge held up a small jacket, one of Jude’s, brought to them by his older brother, Oscar. If he weren’t already heavily invested in finding this child, Oscar’s expression would have cemented it, his fears hidden beneath brave determination to help protect his little brother in any way he could. It stirred old memories, ones that Edge rudely shoved away as the Dogs passed the jacket around, each of them sniffing intently.

“Dogamy, you and Dogaressa start in grid one,” Edge ordered, tapping the square on the map with a gloved fingertip. “That’s the last place he was seen, see if you can pick up a scent. Greater Dog and Doggo, grid two. If you find anything, call my cell phone before you come back, all right?”

“Got it,” Dogamy growled out. His wife nodded and the two of them loped off, their kin at their heels even as more cars began arriving, other Monsters walking up to get their own search grid.

Not long after, Undyne pulled up and came to a screeching stop at the curb, struggling to get from behind the wheel of her jeep. For most of her pregnancy, she’d hardly showed, but in the past couple weeks, she’d…blossomed, was the word Alphys used, her eyes glowing with adoration behind the lenses of her glasses. Privately, Edge thought ballooned might be more fitting considering the waddle she’d recently gained as she made her way towards him.

“Whatcha got left,” Undyne pushed in next to him to examine the map. With her belly leading the way, she very nearly bounced him into the yard.

Edge recovered and returned, leaning back in. “There’s a few grids left,” Edge said. He pointed out a sector. “We started closest to where he was last seen and spiraled out.”

“Good plan,” Undyne murmured.

“If you’re thinking of taking a grid for yourself, I’d like to invite you to think again.” Edge let his gaze drop meaningfully to her swollen belly. Her t-shirt could no longer contain it and from beneath the hem an expanse of taut, deep blue skin was peeking out, paler stretch marks striping along the sides, battle scars, according to her and Edge did not doubt it.

She graced him with a shameless, needle-sharp grin and gave her exposed belly a scratch, “Like you could stop me? Nah, Al already gave me a fin-full, I’m here for support purposes only.” She leaned in again, bracing a clawed hand on the hood as she studied the marked off grids with a nod, “Looks like you’ve got it mostly covered, anyway. Kid couldn’t have gotten too far, Dogs’ll sniff him out.”

Edge glanced up at the porch again where Janice was sitting, holding a coffee mug in clenched hands. Next to her on the table was a pile of crumpled tissues, the box close by. His competent assistant was nowhere in sight, lost in her worries for her son. Edge pitched his voice low as he said, “Let’s hope so.”

At that moment, there came a burst of sound from behind them reminiscent of the false flatulence from San’s whoopy cushion. To Edge, it was annoyingly familiar, the sound of his brother’s teleportation caused by the displaced air. Stretch’s sounded more like the sharp pop from a bubble of chewing gum, and Edge did not assume that the shortcutters in their family had control of the sound it made past the fact that it made sound at all, but he couldn’t help noting sourly that it suited their personalities nonetheless.

Undyne was less accustomed to having short skeletons popping in and out around her, and she jumped, her unsteady balance almost sending her sprawling on the car hood as she swore, “Fuck me, Red, give a little warning!”

Red snorted loudly, “ya look like someone beat me to it.”

He ignored her renewed curses, crawling up on the bumper to get a view of the map, sneakers squeaking against the fiberglass while Edge grit his teeth. He still hadn’t forgiven Red for his earlier cruelty, but this wasn’t the time. “Where is Sans?”

Red shrugged, his eye lights intent on the map, “checking a few things.”

Casually said and Edge left it at that. As this world’s Judge, Sans might have some insight into possible scenarios, he always knew more than he should. Like his brother. Like Stretch.

Edge knew little about Judging, by design. He hadn’t even known his brother was one until he became Captain of the Guard and it was Asgore who advised him of what it might entail, a discussion best forgotten. Stretch never brought it up, even on the very rare occasions when he spoke of Chara. It was easy to forget the unpleasant role he was forced to play in his own world.

“this area here is clear,” Red tapped a finger on grid seven, the one near the school. Edge didn’t question him, only crossed out the square and a low, distant howl made them all look up to see Dogaressa loping towards them, her long pink tongue lolling out as she ran.

“Report,” Edge said crisply even as she panted, catching her breath.

*Scent was strong, leaving his yard, went two streets, south,* she pointed at the map and Edge circled where she indicated. *then gone.*

“Gone? How could it be gone?” Edge demanded.

Dogaressa shook her head sadly, *Bike, car, vehicle of some sort, maybe. Not enough trace to follow. We’ll keep scouting, see if we can’t pick up the trail again.*

“Thank you,” Edge said, heavily. He chose not to look at Janice; seeing the crumbling hope on her face wouldn’t help find her son any faster.

Dogaressa nodded and loped off again.

Red hopped down from the bumper. “gonna head off, too, bro, got some cameras i can check, see if we can get a bead on him.” He reached up and pointed with a sharp-tipped finger. “get someone out to grid eight.”

“That’s very far for him to have traveled.”

“not with a bike or somethin’ and there’s a kinda treehouse out there that the kiddos use.” Red lowered his voice, “if it was a car, we got other problems than a simple lost kid.”

“I know,” Edge murmured. He spared a glance at Undyne who was listening silently with her hands folded over her belly. Her expression was a thundercloud; none of them wanted to voice their suspicions aloud. Much as he wished otherwise, Monsters were not exempt from criminals in their ranks, even where children were concerned. That was one of the few areas that Edge left in the control of others. He couldn’t trust himself to face anyone who would deliberately hurt a child, his soul burned even to consider it, a coal set inside his ribcage as he struggled to rid himself of the very thought. Janice needed his cool competence, not undefined rage at someone who might very well not exist.

Next to him, Undyne visibly struggled with her own anger, cradling her belly in both hands. “Go see if you can figure out what happened to the kid, Red,” she said low, “we’re depending on you, boss.”

Red grimaced, teeth gnashing, “don’t go giving me titles now, i’m more the take-ya-to-my-leader type.” He stepped back, vanishing into the void.

There was nothing to do but continue the search until Red reported back. Edge returned to the map, considering who to send to the next grid when a tug at his elbow made him jerk, very nearly lashing out. He stifled the reaction back, forcibly tamping down the agitated LV in his soul; his frustrations and anger were not serving him well here, blast it all.

At his side, Oscar looked up at Edge without the slightest clue to his inner turmoil. He was entirely too invested in his own, twisting his hands together with bright tears glimmering his eyes. Edge crouched down, close to his height, and asked with as much gentleness as he could muster, “Oscar? What is it?”

The child mumbled something too low to be heard.

Edge glanced at Undyne and handed over the pen in a silent ask for her to take over. She nodded, already grabbing her phone, as Edge said, coaxingly, “It’s all right, Oscar, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“It’s my fault,” Oscar said, low. The tears standing out in his eyes finally shed, dripping down to wet the short fur on his face. “It’s all my fault.”

Edge exhaled slowly. “How is it your fault?”

“I yelled at him,” Oscar burst out, his voice breaking on a sob, “We were tryin’ to set up a fort and he kept knocking things over, ‘n getting in the way. I yelled at him to go away and now—”

Of course. Children were alike no matter where they were from, it seemed, so often taking on a disproportional amount of blame that no one expected them to carry. Edge slid a careful arm around his quivering shoulders and gave him a gentle little shake, “Oscar, I need you to listen to me. Are you listening?”

He nodded, sopping at his wet face with his sleeve.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is--!”

“No,” Edge said firmly. “Sometimes brothers fight, sometimes they say things they don’t mean.”

That caught Oscar’s attention. He frowned, reluctantly intrigued, or perhaps hopeful to think an adult like Edge still squabbled with his brother. “You and your brother fight?”

“Constantly,” Edge said dryly, “and as recently as today. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love him or that I wish any hurt on him. It doesn’t mean I don’t care. You didn’t mean for Jude to wander off, it is not your fault. All right? Now, go sit with your mother. She loves you both very much and she needs you right now.”

He nodded, a little less miserably and headed back to the porch where Stretch and Janice were still sitting. Janice enfolded her son into her arms the moment he was in reach and the two of them clung to each other. Stretch leaned in to say something and Janice nodded. He stood and headed towards Edge, quick strides that were nothing like his usual lazy saunter.

“babe,” Stretch said, low, “i'm gonna head off and help look.”

Edge resisted the initial, ridiculous urge to deny him. Stretch was an adult, older than him as Stretch so often liked to point out, and Edge could hardly forbid him the right to join the search groups. They were in New New Home, not out in Ebott amongst the Humans, he couldn’t play at the protector by keeping his husband under lock and key. “All right,” Edge agreed, softly. “What grid do you want?”

“none,” Stretch said. He reached over and waved a hand loosely over the map. “babe, this is the right direction for everyone else, but i'm not about to stick myself to one spot when i can be halfway across town in two steps. you,” he pointed at Edge, “stay put, rally the troops or whatever, you do not need to be tromping around on that leg.”

“I hadn't planned on it.” He did not say he’d already mentally calculated the damages vs what assistance he could provide. The possible benefits did not outweigh the costs, it was not worth losing searchers if they were forced to assist him. Before Stretch could vanish, Edge blurted out, “I love you.”

It earned him a lopsided smile in return, “love you, too.” And with a single step Stretch was gone, shortcutting away nearly silently while Edge turned back to the map and Undyne, readying the next wave of searchers.

Hours went by, various groups checking in as they finished searching their grid. As soon as their section was cleared, a person was assigned in it to stay while the others moved on.

A text came from his brother, terse information that Jude climbed on a scooter where the Dogs lost his scent, and he’d been traveling north when he disappeared from camera view. The relief that he hadn’t gotten into a car was brief and the search was redirected, grids marked off. Jeff and Antwan reported nothing, as did the Bun family, who paused only briefly to comfort their kin before heading back out in search of hers. Doggo returned, tail between his legs, to report that the scent hadn’t been found again.

The day was dragging on, the weather cooling as the sun dipped lower, but they weren’t giving up, not with a child out there lost in it.

Undyne went inside to use the bathroom twice, muttering about her abused bladder and pausing to talk with Janice and Oscar each time. On her last trip, she brought out the blanket that was usually draped over the back of the sofa, bundling the two of them in its warm folds. Her earnestly encouraging expression fell when she began walking back to Edge, replaced with more grimness with every minute that ticked past.

“There was nothing in grid twenty-five,” Papyrus said. His normal exuberance was dulled, his earlier confidence that Jude would quickly be found wavering into disbelief.

Undyne gave him a punch on the arm that nearly sent him to the ground, “Don’t you even give a hint that you’re giving up, nerd,” Undyne hissed. She jerked her head towards the house. “And sure as fuck not in front of moms back there.”

“Of course not!” Papyrus lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders, “Now I need a new grid to search!”

It was starting to get dark, the sun cresting the horizon and sending the neighborhood into dim twilight. Edge went into the garage and flipped on the outside lights, illuminating his car and the map on it.

“Edge,” Undyne leaned in, her voice pitched low, “Look, I know none of us want to think it, but we might need to look into contacting the Human Authorities.”

“Noted,” Edge said tersely.

“Humans have gotten in here before, and if one did and snatched the kid, the longer we wait, the—”

She broke off, grimacing, her shoulders hunching as her hand hovered over her belly.

Edge could only stand with his own hands hovering uncertainly even as he said, sharply, "Are you all right?"

A long moment passed, then she managed, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Don't you bullshit me, if you make me deliver your child, I will never forgive you."

Undyne gave a rough laugh, "Pal, giving you a front row seat to my shrimp salad is nowhere on my menu. Braxton Hicks contractions, been having ‘em for weeks." She took a couple of long, slow breaths, then straightened, “Now, about the Humans.”

“I have no issue with Humans, I have plenty of issues with the Human authorities,” Edge snapped. Behind him, he heard a small, alarmed sound from Janice and lowered his voice, “even if a Human somehow managed to get into New Home without being seen, snatch Jude, again without witnesses, and miraculously leave with him the same way they came in, I’m not convinced the Ebott Police would actually assist us.” Edge paused, his mouth twisting, “That said, Asgore contacted the mayor’s office already, they are aware of the situation.”

Undyne made a rude sound, “Should’ve known you were a step ahead of me.” She glanced at the porch. “I’m gonna sit with mama up there for a few, it’s getting dark, she’s worried out of her mind, and my dogs are barking the moonlight sonata.”

“Go sit,” Edge told her, softly. He watched her waddle up the sidewalk, that encouraging expression already pasted into place, then he looked out into the neighborhood. The streetlights were coming on, bright puddles of light spaced out along the road that left dark patches between them.

Flashlights were on their way, but what were the odds of their search parties finding the child in the dark when they couldn’t find him in the daylight? Edge shook the thought away, despair had no place here, they would keep searching until the child was found. No matter what.

Even as he thought it, he heard the sudden pop of teleportation, bubblegum sweet, and he turned to see Stretch tumbling out into the middle of their front yard with Jude in his arms. Both of them were filthy, their clothing stained and soiled with dried leaves clinging. One was tangled stubbornly into one of Jude’s floppy ears. Jude’s small face was awash with tears and Stretch’s pale and sweaty, as if perhaps he’d teleported them some distance and was at the end of his endurance.

Before Edge could demand answers or even move, Janice was stumbling from the porch, tripping into the grass and crawling towards her son, laughing and crying in the same breath.

Stretch handed him awkwardly over, "he's okay, mama, little cold and tired, maybe."

"Thank you," she sobbed out, clinging to her child. Jude was holding on just as tight and both of them slung an arm around Oscar when he joined them. Janice managed to pull away long enough to ask, laughing around her tears, “Where? Where was he?”

“out in old new home,” Stretch slumped back into the grass, sockets tiredly closed. “there’s some paths out there that the kids like, leftover from when they were putting up those first houses. looks like when they stopped construction, they tossed some boards over a pit and didn’t fill it in. kiddo was lucky enough to find it, huh, champ?”

Jude only clung to his mother, his sobs muffled into her shoulder. Headlights were already coming down the street, groups returning from the search. Chances were Red alerted them the child was found, and as they poured from their cars, all their expressions were ones of purest relief.

“I’ll get a team out first thing in the morning to fill it in,” Edge began, “Stretch, can you show me on the map where—”

Undyne’s voice interrupted him, soaring over the growing crowd. “Now that we found the kid, can, uh, someone take me to the hospital? Think it’s time for me to meet my rugrat in person.”

The brief silence was almost as deafening as the sudden chorus that rose up of Monsters volunteering. In the end Papyrus took her, loudly claiming his right as Best Bud. Edge only stood back, grateful that it wasn’t him, and watched as Undyne nearly punched him for trying to help her into the car. The crowd began to thin, Jeff and Antwan heading off to retrieve Alphys and the Bun family claiming Janice and her children in between profuse thank yous.

Janice paused as she walked past him, Jude in her arms and Oscar at her side. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was hoarse from crying, brimming with gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” Edge told her with quiet sincerity, and when he awkwardly held his arms out, she immediately leaned into the brief embrace. As she headed towards her brother’s car, Edge called out impulsively, “You can pay me back by handling all the press briefings tomorrow!”

Her sudden laughter was a relief from the previous onslaught of tears, “That’s a deal, boss!”

The other searchers had already headed for home, happy ending achieved, and Edge turned back to their house…and saw that Stretch hadn’t stood up yet. He was still sitting in the damp grass with his skull cradled in his hands.

“Love?” Edge knelt and saw with some alarm that his sockets were tightly closed. He was trembling, his hands rattling against his skull as they shook, and the bones were bleached nearly white, the soft orange glow of magic that usually lit his joints was dim. “Rus? Are you all right?”

“help me inside?” Stretch asked, tightly.

He very nearly scooped Stretch into his arms, injured leg be damned, and right into the car to head in for a room next to Undyne’s in the hospital. Instead, Edge tamped that impulse down and did as Stretch asked. Carefully helped him to his feet and guided him to the door, pausing only to snatch up the blanket from the chair Janice had been sitting in before leading him inside.

tbc

[pointlessfiction]

WARRIOR

𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚

Outer Banks, paradise on earth. That's what the sign said when Blake and her older brother Monty sped down the North Carolina coastline. It was her first time visiting her brother in North Carolina since he moved a year ago. Just as the beat up ‘63 Chevy whizzed down the bumpy roads, waking up the grumpy teenage whose head was leant up uncomfortably against the glass pane. The golden yellow light of the rising sun washing over her, imprinting an angelic cast throughout the truck.

 “Morning "Monty chirped excitedly, peaking at his semi-conscious sister.

 “Morning” Blake muttered back, half asleep.

 “What time is it? "she whined, stretching up from the uncomfortable position her head was resting in, her dainty hands shooting up and covering her eyes from the provocative sunrise.

 “Just passed 6:00am, good morning! "he belted, further peeving his younger sister.

 “Must you always be full of fucking sunshine and rainbows Monty? "she grumbled

 “And good morning to you B ,and yes, as your older brother it is my duty to annoy you, and seeing as bloody happy people annoy you so much, in order to be the best brother I can I’m going to annoy the fuck out of you darling ”he joked, the radio previously playing, now acting as soft background noise.

 “Yeah yeah, whatever "she grunted under her breath. "how long until we're there "she asked out of pure fatigue, longing for a bed.

 “About ten minutes "he answered, laughing at how his sister shot up from her seat fixing herself in the mirror, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before looking up at him.

 “Wow that was quick" Blaise said, surprised, it took an 8 hour flight to get from England to north Carolina and is now taking them only an hour to drive into the outer banks when it only felt like an hour

 “Probably because you were asleep for the whole flight and half the drive B "he answered her spoken though.

 “I thought I said that in my head, but it's crazy how quick it went, I'm going to be super jet lagged in the morning". She sighed

 “Right okay now that you're awake I've got to ask you some serious questions okay? "he asked, his protectiveness making ground.

 She sighed, realising she could not hide it from him forever "go for it "she muttered, sarcasm seeping through her pearly-white teeth

 “Does dad know you left in the middle of the night to come all the way to north Carolina from fucking England B ”he asked, the slight irritation in his voice understandable given the fact her visit was unforeseen.

 “For when he notices I’m gone, I left a note saying that I left to come visit you for the summer "she replied, uninterested

 “And is that true? "he pried

 “To an extent "she claimed

 He sighed "why are you actually here? Blake, you can tell me "he pleaded, wanting to know why exactly his younger sister left in the middle of the night because he knew it wasn't just because she missed him.

 “You really want to know "she dragged, he nodded sparing glances to her watching the road intensely.

 “Well ever since you left "she stopped, fear she had been burying finally coming out, time slowed down as her thoughts got filled with images people screaming hateful words, and the moment verbal abuse become physical, she could still smell the alcohol on his breath as he squared up to her. A hand on her shoulder broke the trance she found herself in. As her vision came back her eyes become glassy, but she refused to cry, because she does not cry. She is too strong to cry, she is not allowed to cry, crying makes her weak and Blaise Williams is anything but weak.

 “It’s okay B you can tell me "he begged

 “Dad started to drink again, it started out as just a few on a Friday night too here and there during the week but…”she paused, taking a deep breath to collect herself ”a few days morphed into everyday day and that same routine we stopped took over again, but this time, you weren't here to receive it so I had to "she sighed finally meeting her brothers eyes who were focused intently ahead, knuckles tightening against the wheel.

 Looking up from the road, he finally looked at her face, luckily the roads were empty meaning he could take her in for longer. He noticed a subtle yellow-green tinge under her eye and knew that was not the only one that was covering her as they rode down the glowing road.

 How could he think this would stop as he left? How could he leave her there on her own? Their dad was a ticking time bomb and when he left, he hadn't been physical for over 3 months, right? How stupid.

“Why didn't you ring me Blake you could've been down here ages ago, I’ve been here for a year "he quaked.

 She inhaled deeply "he smashed my phone and I couldn't afford another one, despite having three jobs, so I got a job at Marys café and ended up getting a burner phone so I could ring you and then binned it on the way here, he said if I left, I’d be dead before I even got to the airport "she replied, reciting her ‘father’ word for word. Goosebumps raising the hairs on her milky skin as the previous months replayed in her mind.

 Looking over to her brother, she didn't realise how she made it sound like she was blaming him because that's the last thing she wanted to do because she loved him and knew the job he had was something he loved and when he moved there permanently he'd be safe. Even though he was older than her she wanted to protect him, family is family and their mother always told them to protect family before anyone.

 “I'm sorry I didn't mean it to sound like that, I don't blame you "she stammered

 “I'm so sorry Blake, really. How could I actually think he'd change I never should have left you I should've taken you with me "he repeated spiralling in self-doubt which he shouldn't have to take, in Blake’s point of view.

 “Stop Monty it's okay I promise it was only really bad when he had loads to drink anyways more verbal than anything "she tried to play it down but Monty knew exactly what she went through, why do you think he left?

 He knew he should have taken her; his mother's wish was to make sure he always protected her and kept her safe, he failed.

 “Blaise...” he stuttered, unsure of what to say

 “Monty please its fine honestly I don’t want to talk about it to be honest I'm just glad I have you and were together now, well for the summer at least, were going to have a good time and have a fucking break from everything back home, who knows maybe I’ll even make some friends here "she laugh, the serious moment that was messing with her head, toying with emotions she didn't want to experience.

 He agreed silently turning his head up to the road, realising his shack was at the next turning he pulled in turning the engine off looking over to Blake whose eyes were wide flashing with amusement ,like a toddler just given ice cream for the first time.

 As they pulled up to the house, Blaise was excited to see it, her brothers’ job payed off. He was an architect/interior designer and he got offered a job round here to redesign a restaurant by the beach, which  is also where his house was ,rebuilding and designing it. the pay was terrific. It was a small house, more of a beach shack, on the less wealthy side of the island but this was a home.

 Walking into the house you were greeted with a very white minimalist aesthetic. A circular beige rug at the centre was accompanies by white plush sofas, laying on them were navy and white patterned pillows that blended beautifully. In the back was a table with wooden legs and navy seats, but what caught her eye was the bright red surfboard with a white lighting stripe cascading down its front. Growing up she always loved surfing, when she was young her family went on trips up on the south coast of England where you could get some decent waves and she missed the way the water made her feel and couldn’t wait to feel like that again. She noticed the sea on the way out of the ferry, waves rolling in and out, waking up slowly, ready for the day as the sun greeted them.

 “I don’t have anything set up for you, but you can take my bed for tonight and I…” Monty started but she cut him off

 “I've got the couch go to sleep well talk in the morning I’m probably going to be up anyways might go and watch the waves if that's okay "she insisted

 “well I'm not even going to bother changing you mind because I'm so tired so I’ll see you in the morning but if you go to the beach be careful and I think the boy next door is actually your age him and his friends normally go out early in the morning anyway,you might see them so don’t be rude because he helps with sometimes "and with that they both said there goodnights as he went upstairs, she slid out of the backdoor.

 Sitting cross legged on the beach, listening to that waves roll in closer and closer. she finally had time to take in everything that happened in the space of 24 hours.

 When she got home from her last day of school she walked through the door gagging at the smell of absinthe and other illegal substances.in her exams she got all a’s just as she expected, seeing as she worked 24/7 on her school making sure she got best possible grades to enable herself to leave quicker. The fight she had with her dad came back in flashing snippets

 “you are fucking worthless piece of shit “he bellowed, pushing her shoulder, causing her to crash down onto the floor.

 “fucking dumb whore” followed with a slap across the face

 But the last one, this made her finally leave

 later that night, She was going downstairs out for an late night walk, as her dad also decided to go out ,presumably to break the law by inhaling strong-smelling marijuana, rolled by his own calloused hands that left her black and blue.

 “where the fuck do you think you are going, whore?” he grumbled

 “nowhere "she stuttered

 “don’t lie to me your worthless piece of shit tells me where you are going in the middle of the night "he demanded

 “out "she muttered just loud enough to hear, unfortunately.

 “don’t take that tome with me you fucking bitch” his thick northern accent becoming more prominent as he shouted

 She silently continued walking down the stairs, thinking it was the best thing to do, she was wrong.

 “where are you going I said come back here now you fucking” he snapped grabbing her wrist so she came face to face with him, fear evident on her face as he stood on the top step, he snickered

 “oh, is the little whore scared" he cooed “are you going to cry you fucking weak piece of shit” he barked. Before she had the chance to answer he brought his fist to her face opening an emotional wound she tried to cover. Somehow forgetting she was on the stairs, the forced pushed her down the flights as she saw her unfulfilled life flash before her eyes.

 She could remember much but when she blacked out, she remembered something that kept her going, her mother’s wish.

 ever since then shed vowed to never be weak again.

Snapping out of the trance as soon as she heard footsteps to her left, she looked up and was met with a hazel eyed boy with a goofy grin and bloodshot eyes giving off that he was under the influence of weed or alcohol.

 “hey” he sat

 “hi? She answered, more as a question.

 “I'm john booker Routledge but people call me john b” he pulled his hand from his swim trunks which she shook cautiously

 “I’m Blake Williams I'm Monty's sister "she explained

 His face lasered with shock “no way well that makes sense why you look alike now, I’ve heard so much about you ,but anyways are you okay, because me and my friends were just about to leave and I saw this random girl, no offence ,just sitting on the sand and though I should check on her. "he added

 “yeah I'm okay I just got here actually, can’t sleep jetlagged” she laughed, already liking his personality and dimples

 “your accents so funny “he laughed

 And she raised a warning eyebrow at him teasingly. he cleared his throat “I didn’t mean that rude I just, well its nice just unique I guess "he marvelled

 “unique means weird, are you calling me weird john b"he queried, teasingly, taking no offence because she was thinking the same thing as his American accent

 “not always unique is one of a kind, unique is good, honestly “he replied making her smile. As the sun washed over his face, she noticed his tan skin and broad build, immediately feeling inferior to him.

 “anyways” he paused "you good?im not even going to ask a bunch of questins because im so tired,but later well catch up but are you ok? "he finished

 “yeah I'm good just thinking ,you go and later on ,when I'm fully able to speak, we can continue this conversation yea?”she asked and he was taken back by the sudden demand, brushing it off just being jetlag he stood and agreed parting ways to tell his friends about Monty Williams sister, who was definitely going to be a new addition to their group, if she wanted.

  As she walked inside, she realised she sounded so rude hoping he understood she was just tired. She was looking forward to making a better impression later and maybe making friends. But now she had to focus on getting a job to pay towards her goals and figure out what the hell she was going to do now. This was her new beginning

A/N HELLO GUYS...im new to this platform writing-wise I been using Tumblr for years and this is a new account,,I just got into writing and this is the outcome...do you like it???if you could show supposed appreciate it loads have a good day guys!!!ps SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR/SPELLING MISTAKES

[gumnut-logic]

Flannel (Bit 17)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 5a | Bit 6 | Bit 7 | Bit 8 | Bit 9 | Bit 10 | Bit 11 | Bit 12 | Bit 13 | Bit 14 | Bit 15a | Bit 15b | Bit 16a | Bit 16b | Bit 17

A bit of exposition and a pile of background research. It should be noted that this tiny little fic is now over 13,000 words long, damnit, and still going. That’s 1000 words a day for thirteen days. I give up. Apparently I can’t do small anymore - though I am blaming Alan for this. He bloody hijacked the fic. ::grumbles lots::

-o-o-o-

Scott acknowledged Seattle Air Control as Virgil banked Thunderbird Two past the huge city. As the chairperson of Tracy Industries, he didn’t fail to catch sight of the TI logo adorning one of the largest buildings in the CBD. The reality of that very building versus their reason for being here was poignant.

Scott had found out later that the mayor their father had been meeting with on that fateful day had been the Mayor of Seattle during the early preparations for the building of that skyscraper. Tracy Industries had taken over the failing Boeing the previous month and Dad had been determined to return the remains of the business to its origin city. It was the first major step in Tracy Industries becoming the megacorporation it was today.

The Cascades splayed out beneath them as city became valleys and ridges. TI had a property not far from their destination and Scott had contacted them ahead of time to let them know IR would be landing there. The response from the site manager was a little bug eyed. If their trip hadn’t been what it was, Scott may have been amused.

He didn’t have the energy.

Virgil’s landing was ever so smooth. Everyone thought Scott was a hotshot pilot, even Scott, but he had to give his brother his due. No one could fly Two like Virgil, not even Scott. The huge behemoth of a cargo plane should be awkward and unwieldy, but under Virgil’s hands she was graceful...in a powerful kind of way.

Hands.

He eyed those hands. They were steady and sure.

Scott had packed the blanket.

He still wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but before he could approach his brother on the matter, Virgil had dragged him out of bed before Scott’s alarm had a chance to squawk, and told him they were leaving in half an hour.

Apparently, he had woken all of them. John, Gordon and Alan were already in the kitchen when he made it down there. Scott’s natural wakefulness had kicked in by then. Gordon, as usual was the energetic early riser, throwing about reheated hotcakes for breakfast. Alan sat in his corner looking like he was questioning his reason for existing at this hour.

John was John. Impervious to the mortal demands of mere time, the astronaut was assisting Gordon.

Virgil was far too active for that time of day. Traditionally, he should be sitting next to Alan trying to not faceplant in his coffee, but the second eldest was possessed with an almost frantic energy.

It worried Scott beyond belief.

Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

But almost as if reading his thoughts, Alan caught his eye. The small smile that curled his lips, the faith in his expression...

They left exactly one half hour later.

Virgil’s hands were steady.

Even if his face was pale.

The site manager was obviously nervous. Understandably, if Scott was to be honest. All five IR operatives were arrayed out in front of the man. How often would five board members including the chairperson visit this minor facility?

The thought startled him and he realised that he probably should have visited here long ago. This was his father’s business and each and every facility was as important as the whole.

Hands were shaken, promises of a tour, eyes stared up at Thunderbird Two as if she was some kind of fantasy turned reality.

Scott was grateful to get in the car.

Virgil highjacked the driver’s seat and left Scott frowning. The five brothers ended up in the car in very similar positions to how they had been arrayed in Thunderbird Two.

This was clearly Virgil’s show.

Steady hands curled around the steering wheel.

Highway became backroad, and backroad became haunted far too quickly.

He had been here fifteen years ago. Travelling in the opposite direction in a different vehicle, but there in the distance was the massive Mount Rainier, the ultimate geological feature to blame for the loss of their mother.

He didn’t find out until sometime after the incident, but it had been an earth tremor sparked by that behemoth of a mountain that had caused the avalanche. Lucille Tracy hadn’t been the only victim, but one of the most notable.

Her death had started a chain of events that led the Tracy family to saving others, that led Tracy Industries to be the largest producer of safety equipment in the world.

If his mother and brother had taken that walk today, they would have had the mandatory TI avalanche safety bubble at hand. Their father had overseen its mass production and leveraged the right people to get it legislated. The fact it was a sixteen-year-old Virgil who drew up the initial designs and created the first mockup was only a sign of his little brother’s resilience.

The same device they would each be carrying today had saved innumerable lives since.

Their mother’s death had saved so many.

He stared at the massive volcano that held the ultimate blame and wondered if anywhere, out there somewhere, there was a deity who had done it all on purpose.

-o-o-o-

Next

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

The Treasures of a Stark - AUgust Day 16

Title: The Treasures of a Stark

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Brief mention of background characters’ racism

Pairings: Sam/Bucky, Rhodey/Tony

Link: Read on AO3

Summary: Sam and Bucky are famous Youtube treasure hunters. When searching for treasure that may have part of insurance fraud, they don't expect the grandson of the accused to help out.

+++++++

“So, this time, we’re searching for the insurance fraud dump of Montgomery Stark.” Sam Wilson looks right at the camera. “Rumor is, about fifty years ago, Mr. Stark reported more than half of his heirlooms and precious jewels stolen, racking up millions in insurance money. No one ever knows because he died two months after he collected the money, but there are rumors that the man ‘stole’ the things and buried them somewhere off his property. We’re going to see if we can find it. Montgomery Stark was outlived by his son Howard Stark, who died about fifteen years go. Now, the face of the operation is his son, Tony Stark.” “But if we do find it, we’re not giving it to the insurance company because fuck them.” Bucky adds. “Also fuck Tony Stark, the asshole.” Sam motions to cut, and the camera turns off.

Anyone who watches their show knows that Bucky has a dislike for insurance companies. They have screwed him over too many times. He’s highly distrusting of any high power and is more likely to punch first and ask questions later when feeling threatened. But when it comes to doing things for the thrill or exploring anything haunted, he’s the first one to advocate for it.

 Sam, on the other hand, is a little more reasonable. He doesn’t exactly like people in power either, but he isn’t actively hating them. What he actively hates is horror, but he lets Bucky drag him into hunts for haunted treasure. He’s not sure why. Steve is. “Bucky, wasn’t Tony Stark the one who designed that awesome prosthetic?”

 “Yeah, but he’s a billionaire. Fuck him.”

 Sam shakes his head. “Ok, well, you can do that, but I’m going to research this a little more.” He gets up and doesn’t notice Bucky’s face behind him. Pulling out maps and the case files, Sam tries to figure out where the late Mr. Stark could have hidden his stash. Bucky sits at the table a few minutes later.

 “What do you want me to do?” He asks.

 Sam hands him the printed statements from everyone the police had interviewed while the case was open. “Here, read through these. See if anything looks useful.”

 Bucky gets to work, and Sam plots different coordinates into his maps. He’s not finding anything anywhere until Bucky slides over a paper that has the statement of Montgomery Stark’s housekeeper, a Madeline Foster. They first ask her if she was there the night of the robbery. She advised that no, she was not, as she starts work and 6am and leaves at 7pm each day. The robbery took place around 9pm. After clearing herself after a few more questions, they begin to interview her with the view of Montgomery Stark committing insurance fraud. She told them that she doubts he did because “Mr. Stark runs on a schedule that he hasn’t broken for the last fifty years.” Ms. Foster goes on to give the police Montgomery’s full schedule.

 “We can work with this. See where these places are. I wonder if any of these places has anywhere that he could have hidden it.” Sam grins.

 They both work on the case for a good five hours before they both call it a day. “We’ll get back to it tomorrow.” Bucky stretches. “Hey, Steve texted me, asking if I wanted to grab dinner. Wanna come?”

 “I don’t want to third-wheel if Steve wants it to be you two.” Sam isn’t sure why Bucky does this. Does he not want to be in a relationship with Steve, but he doesn’t know how to break up with him?

 Bucky’s eyes widen. “Sam, Steve and I, we’re like brothers. There is, never was, and never will be any romantic love between us. Only platonic and familial. Now, come on. I can even buy you dinner if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 “I can pay for my own.” Sam shoves him. “I’m not going to be your sugar baby.”

They meet Steve at their favorite local restaurant. He asks them about their newest project. When they tell him, he warns them, “The Starks can be pretty private. I knew Howard Stark before he died, and he was nice enough, but I didn’t really know anything about him.”

 Bucky swears. “It figures. If they hear anything about it, they’ll shut us down. Can’t stand to let us find out hidden family secrets.”

 “We’re not that big. I’m sure they won’t hear about it.” Sam tries to reassure them.

  ++++++++

Sam and Bucky try to find clues to help them figure out where Montgomery Stark might have hidden his treasure. After two weeks of no progress, they are wondering if they should just give up. They hear their secretary say something in a loud voice, and another voice answers her. “What’s going on out there?” Bucky wonders.

 “Sir, you can’t just walk back there! You need to book an appointment!” Darcy is getting closer.

 The other voice replies. “Relax. I just want to talk to them. I’m not going to hurt them. This door?” The door opens… and Tony Stark walks through.

 “Fuck.” Bucky mumbles. “Guess Steve was right.”

 Stark looks at them, then holds out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Wilson & Mr. Barnes, I presume? I’m Tony Stark, and I’m here to talk to you.”

 “Sam Wilson, sir. Nice to meet you.” Sam shakes it. “This is my colleague, Bucky Barnes.”

 “Ah, the first Stark Prosthetic. Does it meet your needs and expectations?”

 Surprised that Tony Stark would remember a name, Bucky stumbles over his words. “Y-yeah it works…. Um… pretty good, I I guess.”

 “Pretty good is not good enough. If we have time today (and you’d like), I would take a look at it for you. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I heard wind that you were looking into Grampa Monty’s treasure.”

 “Do you have a problem with that?” Bucky challenges.

 Stark shakes his head. “No, I want to help you. The truth is, I fully believe that my grandfather committed insurance fraud. Which is kind of a dick move because 1.) my grandmother was so disturbed by the whole ordeal; she spent the rest of her life in bed. Not that he knew, I guess, because he died a few months after the robbery. Bad karma is my guess. Also, 2.) much of that stuff was my mother’s jewels from her family. He had no right to collect insurance on any of that, but he did. Now, I would like my mother’s belongings. I’m not sure how it works, but if I have to pay the insurance companies back, I will. If you have any clues, I will help you out in any way that I can.”

 “Are you ok with being videoed for the episode?” Sam asks. “We will have to get our lawyers to draw up a form for you to sign.”

 “Of course. I don’t want to be a bother. Take your time. Here’s my card. Please, give me a call when you can, and I will come down as soon as possible. Thank you for you time.” Stark nods and walks out the door. They can hear him thanking Darcy as he leaves.

  She comes in a few minutes later. “I’m sorry guys. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

 “It’s ok Darcy. There was nothing you could do about it.” Bucky smiles at her. “Thanks for trying.”

 “I like what you do, and you guys pay me well.” She winks.

 When Darcy goes back to her desk, Bucky turns to Sam. “What do you think?”

 “I mean, he seems like he’s eager to help us.” Sam nods. “He can probably get us into different high-end things that we could not on our own. Want to call Matt and Foggy?”

 “Yes. I think they might have some good insight.”

 Sam calls their lawyers, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson, explaining the situation. They advise to make a strict NDA for Tony to sign. If he’s ok with it or only requests small changes (to be okayed by them), they would advise to go forward with Stark’s help. An NDA is drawn up and forwarded to Stark. He arrives the next day with it and another man in hand.

 “Everything looks good. It is signed and noted. Shall we start?” He questions.

 “Tones.” The other guy gives him a look.

 Smacking his forehead, Stark looks embarrassed. “Fuck. I forgot. Gentlemen, this is my boyfriend, Colonel James Rhodes. I call him Rhodey. Rhodey, this is Mr. Sam Wilson and Mr. Bucky Barnes.”

 “Nice to meet you,” The colonel says, shaking their hands. “Call me Rhodey.”

 “Rhodey signed the NDA as well, so you don’t have to worry about me trying to loophole something with him. We are going to do this with integrity.”

 Bucky and Sam give each other a look, both seemingly swept up in Tony Stark’s big personality. Rhodey notices and gives him a small shove. “Tones, this is their show. We’re just in the background pulling strings to help them.”

 “That’s right. Tell us where we need to be and what we need to do.”

 Sam takes control. “Thank you, gentlemen. If you want to take a seat at the table, we are just going through these papers with a fine-toothed comb to see if there’s anything we missed.”

 The cameras roll, and the four men go through the papers. Tony finds Ms. Foster’s statement, and he holds it up. “This could be huge. Let’s see… the house was robbed on a Tuesday. He probably would have stashed the loot in the next two days, wouldn’t you think?” He looks to the others for confirmation. “Ok, so his Wednesday schedule. Come down for breakfast at 6:30. Go into the office by 7. He wouldn’t have kept the stuff at the office because police did a full sweep of SI as well. Wednesday lunches were spent at La Palova. That’s a pretty exclusive restaurant with plenty of cameras. Let’s just say for now that it’s probably not there. Back to office by one, wow, he kept a really tight schedule. Old Monty left the office at 230 to golf at Emerald Isle. Tons of open land there. Be home by 730 for dinner. I mean, there’s time, but not much. Sorry, am I taking over here?”

 “No, you’re the only one who knows about this stuff, so keep going.”

 “Ok. Thursday schedule, almost the same. Gives himself an hour for lunch, but after work, he likes to drive in the canyon. He was too old for much exercise, I’d bet, but maybe he likes to watch the sunset? The sunsets there are beautiful. Also, a great place to hide not-really-stolen treasure.”

 Rhodey speaks up, “There’s also that little bend where we used to go to make out away from the house, remember? For a guy who spent his whole life driving the canyon, he should know all the ins and outs.”

 “Are you saying that we might have had sex on top of my mother’s heirlooms?” Tony shudders. “That’s creepy.”

 Bucky and Sam share that look again.  Sam shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Okayyyy… we do not need to know more. Remember, the camera is rolling. So, you think that Montgomery Stark hid the stuff in the canyon?”

 “I honestly think he hid it somewhere on the golf course. He owned shares in the course and the club, so technically, no one could ask him why he’s on any part of the land. I wonder if that got passed down.” Tony hums. “I think Monty would’ve thought that people would be suspicious of the canyon.”

 “Well, when we actually get our resources, we can split up into two bands. Mr. Stark, you can take one of us to the golf course. Rhodey, you can take the other to the canyon. There will be a lot of exploring to be done.” Bucky advises.

 Sam tacks on. “Yea, and we have more than one camera so we can film both of us at the same time.”

 By the end of the week, Sam and Bucky think they have the resources they need to scope out both places. They banter back and forth like normal throughout the week. As they’re arguing about who’s going to the golf course and who’s going to the canyon, when Tony asks, “Hey, I meant to ask you. How long have you guys been dating?”

 Bucky chokes and Sam coughs. “We’re… not… dating.” He says and looks at Bucky.

 “Oh, just fucking? Like friends with benefits?” Tony raises an eyebrow.

 Rhodey admonishes. “Tony, language. Camera is rolling.”

 “Ah, they’ll edit it out. Listen boys, if you’re not dating or at least screwing, you should. You got some serious charisma. Kind of like my honeybear and me.” He smooches Rhodey on the cheek.

 “Well, we’re not. End of discussion.” Bucky knows his face is bright red. He really likes Sam, and he thinks Sam likes him. However, he’s too afraid to make the first move. He doesn’t want to mess up the team dynamic.

 Tony smirks. “Whatever. I think I can answer your question, though. Due to the fact that old elitist country clubs are still pretty fucking racist, it might be better if I take Bucky. Unfortunately, there will be less suspicion, and we can get through a lot faster without someone trailing us at all times. You should have seen the last time I took Rhodey somewhere like that. I refused to go back.” He shudders. “I’ll see what I can do if we have to go back a second day, but…” Tony trails off.

 Sam slings an arm around Rhodey’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’ll have fun exploring the canyon and talking about you white boys.”

 “If you’re sure. I’m sorry we had to make a decision that way, you know?” Tony smiles sadly.

 +++++++++

The next day, Tony takes Bucky to the Emerald Isle golf course. They talk about this and that, but Tony notices Bucky is a little withdrawn. “Hey, you ok?” He asks.

 “Yea, I’m just trying to figure out what my friend would say if he found out I was hanging out with a billionaire today.”

 “Eat the rich kind of guy?” Tony knows a few of those.

 Bucky grins. “Yea. I am, too.”

 “Well, you surely aren’t pulling any punches. Do you have any questions for me?” Tony is genuinely interested. Barnes seemed like a level-headed kind of guy. He might have some good ideas for Tony to try.

 “I do, actually. How do you feel about making a difference in the world?”

 “I am very strongly for it, but I don’t always need my name on things, contrary to popular belief. They call me a billionaire because I earn billions annually. However, I and the company pay most of our taxes without using loopholes. Other than voting and lobbying a little, I can’t convince the government to do the right thing with the money. Yes, I do have multiple houses and cars, and I even own an island, but much of my money is sunk into various charities and funds around the world. Some have my name backing them, like the September Grants, but plenty of them are given anonymously so my accountant can’t get mad at me for not taking the tax breaks. So, yes, I do want to help change the world for the better, but I don’t want it to seem like I, myself made the world better.”

 Bucky just nods. They make small talk again until Tony brings up Sam. “I think he’s a great guy. You have a great co-worker in him.”

 “Yea, and he’s the love of my life.” Bucky sighs.

 Tony turns to look at him, and Bucky warns. “Eyes on the road.”

“I will.” Tony turns back. “But you love him? Why don’t you tell him? Do you know amazing your life would be?”

 “I don’t want to mess up our already good thing. I mean, I think he likes me, but what if he doesn’t? What if we date and then break up, and we can’t do this anymore? It’s not easy to find a job with a prosthetic.”

 “You could start your own channel. People like you enough. They’ll watch you.” Tony suggests. “But if you want it to last, don’t think about what will happen if it doesn’t.”

 “I’ll think about it.” Bucky mutters.

 Tony pulls into the Emerald Isle valet parking area. “We’re here.” He hands the valet his keys and tips him. “Follow me.”

 He leads Bucky to the manager’s office where he tells the man at the desk that he just realized he inherited the shares from Howard, and he’s looking over the property to see if he should buy more shares, sell these, or stay where I’m at. Do you mind if I take my guy and look around?”

 The manager stammers and acquiesces. He gives Tony keys to a golf cart and a map of the property. They start scouting, the camera guy sitting in the back of the cart. “You know what you’re looking for more than me.” Tony tells Bucky. Let me know if you want me to pull over somewhere.”

 ++++++ “So, how long have you and Tony been together?” Sam asks as Rhodey drives him down the interstate towards the canyon.

 Rhodey shrugs. “Nineteen, twenty years? We started dating when he was nineteen. I was twenty-one.”

 “You guys seem to have what it takes. I’m happy for you.” He wishes he and Bucky could have that, but he knows that Bucky doesn’t like him that way.

 “Thanks. Yea, Tony can be a complete dumbass eighty percent of the time, but he’s a loveable one, you know?”

 Sam nods. He knows someone like that. He sighs. If Bucky’s not for him, Buck’s not for him. End of story. He’ll find someone else at some point. “So, how’s life as a colonel? That’s got to be rough on your relationship, especially before DADT was repealed.”

 “I am happy with my job. I do get more leave because I date Tony Stark, who supplies the military with hi-tech equipment that can’t be weaponized. He won’t make them weapons of any sort anymore.”

 “I don’t blame him. Weapons manufacturing is not a business I’d like to be in.” The two chat about whatever comes to mind until Rhodes pulls off the road at a bend in the canyon.

 “Ok here. There are caves just beyond this bend. Most of them have never been explored. I’ll show you the ones we have definitely been in.”

 “Oh yes, now I’ll be imagining your sexploits.” Sam groans and Rhodey chuckles. “Now, we have to think… Montgomery was an old man at this point. There’s no way he could have dug very deep.”

 Rhodey mans the camera, and Sam grabs a shovel. They head toward the caves. Cave after cave, Sam checks the ground for any areas that may have been dug up and replaced. Those he did find were too small to hold anything like the stash the late Stark would have had. Further and further back they go until Rhodey is worried about the wall stability. “We should probably stay closer to the cave openings.”

 After going through all the caves and finding nothing, Sam relaxes back against the cave wall. “Whew. Maybe Tony was right. There’s nothing here.” The wall moves a little, and he jumps out. Turning, he and Rhodey see a 10” by 10” hold in the wall. Looking inside, they see a small pile of jewels and gold bars!

Sam whips out his phone to call Bucky just as his phone starts ringing. “Hello?”

 “Sam! We found some of the treasure! It was in a secret room in a shed near the edge of the property. It was all overgrown because no one has been there for years!” Bucky sounds very excited.

 “We found the rest! It was in a secret wall in one of the caves! Are you taking it with you today? We’re going to grab this stuff.” Sam is smiling widely.

 Putting on gloves, Sam slides all the treasures into a knapsack. Once done, they walk out of the cave. Rhodey looks back at it, squinting. “Tony’s not going to be happy about this.” He grins.

“Don’t tell me.” Sam warns. “I don’t want to hear it.”

 Rhodey drops Sam off at home. “Put that in a safe or something til tomorrow.” He warns. “Hey Sam, also, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but Barnes likes you, too. He makes heart-eyes at you all day. If your fans can see it, it’s there.” Sam nods and Rhodey drives off.

 ++++++ “So, friends, that’s how we found treasure and solved a crime in the episode!” Sam grins.

 “Also, when Tony asked the question of how long we’ve been dating, we have an answer for him now.” Bucky adds in. “It has been a week ago today.” Sam and Bucky kiss in front of the camera as the screen fades to black.

 “Wow, this episode got a lot of love,” Tony comments. “I’d like to think it was all me. Also.” He turns to Rhodey. “I can’t believe we blew each other right beside my mother’s jewels. I think her ghost is attached to those things. I may have scarred her for her entire afterlife.”

 “Tell me, does ‘Bam’ or ‘Sucky’ sound better as a ship name?” Bucky speaks up. “Twitter made a poll.”

 Sam swats at Bucky’s shoulder. “Tell them Sambucky. They should learn how to name things correctly.” They share a kiss again. Sam is happy he had the courage to talk to Bucky. Spending the rest of his life with this man sounds like a good idea.

[montagnarde1793]

Ribbons of Scarlet: A predictably terrible novel on the French Revolution (part 4)

Parts 1, 2, 3 and 5.

Inaccuracies: the minor, the inconsistent, the fuck no and the unintentionally hilarious

I have no intention of detailing every historical inaccuracy in this book. I’d say we’d be here all day, but we’ve already been here all day, so maybe all week?

The book is riddled with minor errors, oversimplifications and dubious interpretations — some of which could be chalked up in theory to writing from a limited POV, but this is not a book that allows for that kind of complexity. Opinions may be those of the characters, but explanations for events and who belongs to what group and so on tend to be those of the authors regardless of which character is speaking.

Given the level of detail of this book, I would count things like Condorcet’s being made a member of the Constituent Assembly or the Revolutionary Tribunal being founded by September 1792 minor errors. They might even have been deliberate (combining the Constituent and the Legislative Assemblies or the Tribunal of 27 August and the Revolutionary Tribunal, for “simplicity”’s sake).

“Les Enragés” is also an official group and that’s their official self-designation in the world of this novel. Um. Ok.

Also things like the complete lack of self-awareness revealed by the assumption that because 21st century Americans consider omelettes a breakfast food this must be a universal constant.

Anyway, I find that kind of thing irritating but pretty inevitable. Errare humanum est and all that.

Other minor errors are forgivable in and of themselves, I suppose, but indicative of a larger lack of understanding, similar to some of the implausible scenarios the authors set up (cf. Manon Roland’s random trip to Caen).

There’s a moment, for example, when one of the figures on trial for “conspiracy” in the red shirt affair appeals to the crowd by saying “I am suspected merely because I am an émigré.” (p. 490) which is hilarious when you realize the fact of being an émigré and returning to France after the cut-off date was already punishable by execution — a law pushed among others by our friends the reasonable, moderate “Girondins.” And I say this not to condemn them (on this point, at least) — there were actual, serious arguments in support of such a law — but to highlight a trend. The authors have decided that certain figures are reasonable, so they give them what they consider to be reasonable opinions, whether or not those opinions line up with those they actually held and, as we’ll see, they’ve decided others are dangerous extremists, so likewise they only get to do things the authors consider extreme, or at best hypocritical.

Usually there’s at least some consistency to the errors — too much in fact, as noted. But the fanciful claim that the guillotine was painted red and that everyone who was executed was dressed in red to hide the blood is repeated more than once, before being replaced with the accurate assertion that dressing the condemned in red was reserved for assassins (also arsonists and poisoners, in accordance with the penal code of 1791).

More serious are the “errors” that serve a certain narrative, like the repeated assertion that Louis XVI abolished torture and notably execution by breaking on the wheel. Er… no he didn’t. I’m going to charitably assume that the authors just confused torture for the purposes of obtaining a confession with torture as a punishment. Louis XVI abolished the former, not the latter. That may seem like a nitpick, but they make a very big fuss about it.

People were still being broken on the wheel until the implementation of the Constituent Assembly’s penal code which provided that all executions should be equal and as quick and painless as possible — ultimately leading to the adoption of the guillotine. The first execution by guillotine is apparently such a crucial event that we have to implausibly have Louis XVI’s sister sneak out and witness it, but we’ll just ignore the fact that the “hero” La Fayette’s cousin bloodily repressed the mutiny of Swiss soldiers in Nancy resulting in a number of hangings and one man being broken on the wheel — repression that La Fayette applauded — in 1790, because 1790 is a year in which nothing happened.

Besides, as is well known, La Fayette never did anything wrong (Sophie de Grouchy forgives him for firing on her when she was petitioning for a republic in 1791 (p. 509-510) so you should too, I guess. Though while we’re here, her signing the Champ de Mars petition is a pretty unlikely scenario, actually, given that only the Cordeliers petition remained after the Assembly’s 15 July decree and that even before that Condorcet didn’t dare to sign his articles in favor of a much less democratic republic than the Cordeliers were advocating for Le Républicain (which prudently stopped publication after 15 July).)

The abolition of torture thing is merely one of a number of errors or exaggeratedly charitable interpretations of Louis XVI’s actions to fit the myth of the fundamentally well-meaning, soft-hearted reformer who was just in over his head. Mme Élisabeth’s violence, while I commend it for its accuracy, serves to highlight her brother’s pacifism. We’re meant to believe that of course it was nothing but revolutionary slander/conspiracy theories to think he was actually intending to use foreign troops to restore himself to absolute power, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Mme Élisabeth asserts that she would like that to happen but her brother would never and Manon Roland confirms it from her point of view too.

On a similar note, Condorcet gets his usual “consensual figure” treatment. We’re unsurprisingly fed the myth of Condorcet as the paragon of democracy and feminism, with nary a touch of ambiguity. Even Pauline Léon can only reproach him with being ineffectual. That’s par for the course, as is framing the people’s fears of grain speculation as a conspiracy theory at least from Sophie de Grouchy’s point of view, though nothing in the text contradicts her at any point (p. 61), but framing Condorcet’s pre-revolutionary math lectures at the Lycée as him and his wife opening a school for popular education and Sophie de Grouchy personally teaching Reine Audu to read at her husband’s invitation… That’s pretty disingenuous.

On the other hand, nothing is too awful to be believed without question of the “radical” revolutionaries, whether it comes from dubious sources (as regards the myths about Lamballe being stripped naked and/or raped before or — depending on the “source” — after being massacred, or about Charlotte Corday’s head being slapped by the executioner and her body examined for evidence of virginity, or Robespierre’s lusting over Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe and personally participating in Catherine Théot’s rituals) or is just made up. Surely the September Massacres were bad enough without imagining that random bystanders — including children — were being raped and massacred in the streets? Since calling for the execution of adult royals based on their actual actions doesn’t sound sinister enough, let’s have Pauline Léon demand the massacre of Louis XVI’s underage children too!

On that note, I have to wonder whether part of the problem is that we’re so used to hearing about atrocities on a scale that dwarfs anything that happened in the 1790s that what the sources suggest — which could still be pretty ugly, don’t get me wrong — doesn’t live up to the hype. The French Revolution is built up in reactionary propaganda like it’s one of the periods of the worst violence in history. I suspect that it’s like with a scary movie: your imagination will conjure up something far scarier than what they could show you on screen. So, expecting to find horrors, you readily believe whichever sources (or “sources”) have the most of them and fill in the blanks when the sources don’t match up to your image of what terror, chaos and violence look like.

It’s basically just deductive reasoning: they say there was horrific violence, so I’m going to depict what must have happened according to my mental image of horrific violence. It’s no different really from deciding a character is reasonable and therefore giving them the opinions you find reasonable. But not only is this poor methodology (which perhaps you don’t care about, as a novelist), it sucks out everything that’s nuanced or complicated or surprising about history for the sake of flattering your own prejudices. And that’s a shame.

Anyway, as for the red shirt affair, it’s generally believed by historians to be a cynical maneuver on the part of the Committee of General Security* to make Robespierre look like a tyrant by executing a large group of supposed co-conspirators with would-be assassins Ladmirat/Ladmiral and Cécile Renault but needless to say — and following G. Lenotre’s lead — that’s not at all how it’s portrayed here. Robespierre is of course personally involved for his own (necessarily hypocritical) reasons. He wants Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe but in this telling she and her family have reason to believe he’s cozying up to royalists like them for personal political gain too. Oh, also, Saint-Just and Fouquier-Tinville are lusting over Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe too, because why the fuck not?

*To use the misleading standard translation (sûreté ≠ sécurité)

Particularly ludicrous is the insinuation that not only did the Convention abolish slavery entirely as an expedient — which, to be fair, some historians argue, though there’s ample evidence that proves there was more to it than that — but that they had to because otherwise the British and Spanish would come to the slaves’ aid first. As if the plantation owners were not doing their level best to deliver their colonies over to the British precisely to preserve slavery. That bit was just insulting.

But you know, why let a little thing like reality interfere with dividing the world into reasonable people and hypocritical demagogues and the mobs that they incite, am I right?

And it’s often the absence of certain realities that poses the greatest problem. Like, counterrevolutionaries aren’t a real threat, that’s all a figment of the revolutionaries’ imagination... but as usual this idea coexists uncomfortably with the existence of actual counterrevolutionaries in the narrative.

The war, which dominated everyone’s reality from 1792 onward, is barely mentioned. Manon Roland is made to treat the idea that the Prussians were well positioned to march on Paris after the surrender of Verdun as an absurd rumor (p. 268-269) and we’re meant to agree. (This was very much not an imaginary threat, if you didn’t know.)

Also! Get ready because I’m going to cite Serna favorably for once:

Il est frappant de noter combien l’historiographie s’est de suite intéressée aux massacres de Paris et aux prisonniers d’Orléans, sans vraiment porter son intérêt sur les morts civils sur le front et la mise à sac des villes et villages à la frontière, deux poids deux mesures qui ne peuvent qu’interroger.

–      Pierre Serna, « « La France est république » : Comment est né le Nouveau Régime dans le Patriote français de Brissot » dans Michel Biard, Philippe Bourdin, Hervé Leuwers et Pierre Serna, dir., 1792. Entrer en République, Paris, A. Colin, 2013, NP, note 37.

(Translation: “It’s striking to note how the historiography took an immediate interest in the massacres in Paris and the prisoners of Orléans, without really getting interested in the civilian deaths at the front and the sacking of cities and towns along the border, a double standard that we can’t help but question.”)

I mean, we know why: military violence, up to and including every kind of war crime, is normal and expected as long as it’s a proper war conducted between two foreign powers (though the various foyers of civil war also don’t really come up in this book). But yeah, that is a pretty big fucking hypocritical double standard, isn’t it? And one that this particular novel reflects rather than invents (as is also true of many of its other flaws, to be entirely fair).

It’s also particularly ironic, for a book that touts itself as feminist, that the real gains made by women regarding inheritance, marriage redefined as a contract between equal partners dissolvable by divorce, the rights of single mothers and illegitimate children and so on — even if the periods of Reaction that followed reversed them — are nowhere to be seen. Nor do we see women voting on the constitution of 1793 or fighting in the army or any of a number of things real women did. I concede that no one novel can be expected to show everything, but given the things they bent over backward to include, would it have been so difficult to include things that are thematically relevant?

This wouldn’t even piss me off so much except for the way Pauline Léon’s storyline ends. Her arc consists of her being convinced of the folly of those of her beliefs that the author doesn’t approve of so that she can be used as a mouthpiece for the moral the author wants us to take from all this and then being forced into marriage because she gets pregnant. And I cite (p. 433):

They would silence us all.

One woman at a time.

First the Angel of Assassination. Then Widow Capet, who had once been queen. Olympe de Gouges five days ago. Now proud Manon Roland.

A professed Girondin, Manon was still against tyranny and had been an advocate for the republic since the dawn of the Terror. Once, I wouldn’t have been able to admit that, but I could admit it now. Now that it’s too late.

And, when she tells Théophile Leclerc he got her pregnant, he replies (p. 435):

“‘We must marry. You’ve no other choice,’” he continued when I didn’t respond. […]

We had wanted liberty in France. But what freedom was there now? I had none. Théo would possess me utterly. I knew it, because the look her gave me had me wanting to crumble to the ground. All the choices I’d fought years for had been stripped away.

And now, I was nothing.

If there’s one point in history before the last 50 years or so that that’s not true it’s in 1793, when this scene is set. Will she be more comfortably off if she marries? Yes, and that would unfortunately be true pregnant or not. But there’s nothing forcing her to marry him if she doesn’t want to and even if she does he doesn’t own or control her under revolutionary marriage law. Were things perfect for women in 1793? Of course not, but given that they were a lot worse both before and especially after, I’m more than a little sick of 1793 being portrayed as the most misogynist of all the misogynist eras.

Ironically though, they omit Amar’s report and the closing of women’s political societies* which is a far more relevant and accurate point if you’re trying to make the case for revolutionary misogyny. Not to mention, it’s kind of baffling to leave it out of Pauline Léon’s storyline as it was targeted against the society she led in particular. (Her section ends instead with Manon Roland’s execution.) But I guess that would require introducing Amar and we can’t have people believing that Robespierre, Danton and Marat weren’t the only Montagnards; they might get confused otherwise. Maybe at this point I should just be glad they didn’t give Robespierre Amar’s speech in the name of consolidation of characters?

*NB, mixed societies were never closed (until the Thermidorian Reaction shut down all political clubs), so the result is a bit more ambiguous than is often claimed.

Anyway. We’ll finally conclude this mess in the next part…

[mantrabay]

Hitchiker From Another World.

Saturday an overarching day that's both conduit and shelter for souls in transition.

Thoughts of the more disturbing kind may intrude.

Little did I know what lay ahead.

All these scenarios flashed across my mind as the wheels of my car screeched to a halt.

Shafts of radiant sunlight revealed a light green leaf entwined placard.

An obscure but apocryphal question -

Going somewhere?

A hitchhiker appeared with the most expressive eyes.

Like shining windows admitting the rush of a golden dawn.

Her rippling nuanced voice spoke.

“Hello, I'm Lelia. Life is a series of stops

and strange encounters.

A journey of some kind.”

Thought-provoking stuff!

She extended her supple silken right hand.

“Hop in.

I'm Joshua King. Going anywhere in particular?"

I enquired archly after the ritual handshake.

"Besides going somewhere or nowhere!”

I continued.

"In one sense I'm not sure.

But there is this place we should all go to.

You'll know what I mean later.”

Lelia mysteriously.

"Not to worry.

Travel is therapy for me."

What made me, Joshua King, say that?

The mind can be overpopulated with figments.

Frustrated figments waiting for that frenzied freedom dash.

This svelte lady wearing an azure padded jacket and sea blue denims glided gracefully into my car.

Hatha yoga asana entry.

My pinstripe attire seemed conventional

on a philosophical journey man.

"Love the aroma ....air freshener.

Orchard in a vehicle.

Symbol of attempted purge."

The hitchhiker's dulcet voice drooping.

Redolent of metaphysics classes I had to abandon.

I was naive enough to believe that attending these courses would fix my “issues.”

More than just momentary bugs.

They couldn't be spray canned away.

I was, however, adept at avoiding their resolution.

My “issues” were other "selves.”

I called them timid, anxious, fidgety ,scrupulous withdrawn.

“What’s more I chat to them.

These chats I call the "whispers.”

Will Lelia notice?”

My twin brother, Jonah, a twin in “every sense” could point to my tendency to flee.

We spotted each other’s flaws with aplomb.

Banter between mirror images of real selves!

Tortured twin psyches.

Jonah was an integral part of these "whispers" too!

All these thoughts were doing hula hoops in my head.

In the process peculiarities surfaced with Lelia..

"I'm Lelia again. Don't forget. You probably won't.

This place I alluded to is but a distance from here.

Distance is a gulf whose magnitude is shaped by its smoothness of passage.

Or the fate that awaits one.

My destination is another world altogether."

Lelia’s cryptic crossword setter.remark.

Tapping my shoulder she extended her hand again.

Her fingers and thumb spatially arranged with tutored

stillness.

Was that repetition a neurotic oddity or a symptom of a deeper malaise?

I nodded to the said hand gesture.

We both brushed this bizarre incident off.

The spot on asides and the strict avoidance of that verbal litter referred to as small talk suggested we should.

Pauses. They did surface periodically.

The silence was then punctuated by a sudden remark.

"All those conifers. Look at how they reach out to the sky.”

One of Lelia’s poetic observations.

“They seem so close yet isolated.

There is something almost within their grasp.

Almost.”

Lelia nonplussed.

“See the adjoining fields. The green is but a cover. They are as neighbours in a high rise flat.

One could say they are both connected and disconnected at the same time.”

Lelia resting her case.

“I'm a bit of a writer and maths researcher.”

I proffered.

"Recluses some say.

Oh, I didn't mean you

Necessarily.”

Ouch, said my shattered Id.

Lelia, archer of the scar inflicting jibe.

Bow and arrow baroness of stinging broadsides.

This offshoot to our conversation was infused with a wry allusion.

Insight on a whim.

We both laughed at the incongruity of a conversation that had become elliptical in form.

Tangents cropped up as impetus to the other person's willingness to reveal themselves.

Lelia didn't exactly volunteer her vocation but left clues.

“You didn't say what you did?

Student ...essayist ...author."

Me sounding Lelia out.

“Oh no children….dashing right across the road in front of us.

Squealing with delight. Whoops of innocent joy? They are sticking out their tongues now!”

Hair-raising moment I hadn't anticipated.

I spied Lelia sticking her tongue out at those reckless varmints.

She stopped the minute I noticed.

“Children …….sometimes you have to act like a kid when dealing with kids."

Straight and to the point from this hitchhiker.

She now resumed the thread of an earlier topic.

“Work ….you asked about work.

I sort of work and play with the mind.

Play act too.”

A retort of sudoku like complexity.

As I digested lelia’s response it dawned on me how much like people my "selves”were.

Even when driving I "dialogued” those various aspects.

“You've an interesting face. The face is like a map, I say.

Heard you mutter about your "selves."

Leslie being cheeky.

Silence as challenge started to creep in.

Russian roulette without rules.

“Watch your driving, there." Lelia being brash.

Her different voices now somersaulting.

���Very quite aren't we, Josh?"

Josh mark you!

Grilling me like an interrogator trying to crack a stubborn suspect.

Without a word of warning Lelia raised her voice and got into a tantrum.

“What's the matter ….lost something?”

Joshua said anxiously.

A curious search resembling a scrum ensued.

Then more silence.

I craned my neck and spotted an uncanny regression.

Lelia talking to herself in a child-like manner and then changing tack.

“Don't worry. Found what I was looking for.”

Another void.

A tense lull. A little lockjaw appears when the juice runs out of discourse.

I squinted in the mirror once more.

This time Lelia was talking to her palm.

Staring vacantly at it she kept repeating the name Linda.

Lelia continued oblivious to what I saw or might be thinking.

She hummed this strange lullaby.

Suddenly my "selves" surfaced in an uncontrollable flurry.

I tried to suppress them but failed abysmally.

The "whispers and selves" started to have a life of their own.

This car is getting a bit crowded.

It's being converted into a train with fantasy passengers on board.

The sort one hears late at night hurtling through the countryside as dim lights flicker.

Both inside and outside this vehicle a tumult of events was took place.

Out of the blue the rain poured heavily.

“The gods or the elements must be cross or something.” Lelia opined.

“Let’s get introduced to my playmate in a palm.

Linda, these are Joshua’s true other selves.”

Lelia chuckling.

A comic situation arose where I changed my voice for each of my "selves" by way of introduction.

My great powers of concentration helped while driving.

"Pleased to meet you, Linda.”

Lelia altered her voice when teasing all my "selves."

She had some experience as a ventriloquist.

But Lelia was having this hypnotic effect too.

I was being manipulated.

One by one my highly personalised complexes were being extracted and subject to a rigorous interrogation.

This was some hitchhiker.

Was this car journey now becoming a high rent farce or a mock therapy session from an amateur shrink?

The rain continued to lash and my other "selves" felt like the last sting of a dying wasp.

A certain lightness ensued.

Almost as if my “aspects” were floating away.

For the first time my "other selves“ didn't seem to have this grip on me.

But deep down I knew I wanted to keep a little of them.

Although they were a burden they did have their positive aspects.

“Jonah … he still bugs doesn't he.

He’s almost like one of those "other selves!"

The "whispers" I heard earlier … I've a very delicate ear.

Those under the breath "whispers" gave the game away.

The names and complex relations between them."

Lelia now probing very deeply.

The wind howled and seafront rain waves splashed across my bonnet

There was a warped synchronicity.

As my complexes receded so did the thunderous weather.

They were working in tandem.

“Wash it all away. Come on, come on

See me waving my wand.”

Lelia chanted.

The Exorcist film had nothing on this.

Before his very eyes Joshua's "reticence" and the other "selves" were disappearing virtually.

Against the backdrop of all this inner and outer cacophony Lelia kept looking out the window.

Was that this home she mentioned earlier getting closer as Joshua was

"going home” to himself?

“Windows are amazing.

They show us the world but sometimes screen us from it.”

Lelia notes.

fog from the car window.

“Trees and branches swaying. Clouds darkening.

Thickening ominously.

Exodus of pedestrians seeking answers.”

Her voice penetrating Joshua.

“Am I being cleansed of what they call inner demons?"

Joshua panic stricken.

"This other worldly person has me spellbound.

There's a chessboard in this moving vehicle.

A total stranger has me in her palm.” .

Lelia assumed various postures.

As Joshua was the driver she didn't want to send him to sleep.

Lelia's voice was either hypnotist's drone or excited sports commentator.

Joshua could never forget this encounter.

“Don't forget Jonah too. Joshua wherever he might be.”

Her sinister tone rising.

“The name on your credit card.

I found it earlier when searching for my script.

Joshua Jonah king.”

Joshua confessed he was an only child.

“Am I a prisoner?.

Must button my lip.

I'm being freed and incarcerated by this person, the likes of whom I've never met before.”

Joshua felt a final therapeutic process coursing through him.

Very little was left of his "selves,” whispers.”

Joshua drove through a stoically preserved area whose haunting nature was blurred by this encounter.

“Terrible to have all these half-worlds revealed with such clinical accuracy.”

Joshua to himself.

Lelia's voice gradually lost its domineering tone.

At this point by accident or design the tense atmosphere eased.

“You are probably wondering where this is all going to end.

Maybe I have whispers, Jonah's and selves to face too.”

A casual Lelia random comment.

On this occasion a composite of adult confidence and infantile charm.

“Oh here we are, this place.”

She stated.

Joshua had undergone some sea change catharsis.

“Should I thank Lelia or what?

Jonah my make-believe twin. Don't really need him do I?”

Joshua pondered.

“Back to earth my dear.

This is where we part.”

Lelia again.

“Better change the name on that credit card.

It could bug your company!”

Lelia cackles..

“See that building..

It's called “Another World School of Acting.”

Acting is therapy..

Therapy in every sense!

They are auditioning for a play

“Inside The Split Mind." She said.

"Wonder will I get the part?”

Lelia looked away sadly.

“Off I go. Enjoy yourself or yourselves or whatever is left of them.”

Lelia laughing through her tears.

“Better get out of here fast, Josh.” Joshua to himself.

“I'm beginning to sound like her.” Joshua now driving at top speed.

“It will be awhile before I offer someone a lift again.

I suppose I should be grateful to her.” Joshua’s face now a deep red.

"Well, Jonah, I guess I'm going to miss you and all those "issues" in a way.

But at least I can be myself …. sort of.”

Short story by mantrabay copyright protected.

Completion of earlier submission