#not to say I’m an easily persuaded audience

[acourtofquestions]

Lucien deserves to be wanted

Azriel deserves to be wanted

Elain deserves to want someone

At this point whatever SJM decides I will probably be fine with it (even if it’s none of the above) I love them all and just want them all to be happy

[veronicaleighauthor]

Embracing My Inner Marian Brook

SPOILER ALERT!!!

First of all, Praise Jesus, we’re getting a Season 3 for “The Gilded Age!”

::WARNING:: ::THIS IS A LONG RAMBLING POST::

::sighs::

I can’t believe Season 2 of “The Gilded Age” is over. Why did we get nine episodes in Season 1, but only eight in Season 2?!?!?! Not that another episode would have been enough for me. The costumes, the snobbery, the grandeur, the upstairs/downstairs relations – I love it all. It may even surpass my love for “Downton Abbey.” I think it’s because I’m American and this is based in America, and we just don’t have the period dramas that Britain has. We had “Mercy Street” for only two seasons – I’m still not over the cancelation of that show. Anyway, I can easily get lost in the show’s world, even though my ancestors of that era were farmers, laborers, and factory workers in the Midwest. There’s a derogatory comment made in Season 1, that in the past, Bertha Russell dug her own potatoes before she married George and they made their fortune. My people would be closer to that than anyone else on the show.

Last season, I was really drawn to Peggy Scott’s character. I still adore her, but during my rewatch of season one and watching this season, I’ve realized something. My personality is closer to Marian Brook’s. According to a Myer-Brigg’s personality test, I’m an INFJ-T and though I’ve searched around on line, I found only one site that claimed Marian was an INFP. We’re not twins, but I really feel I’m closer to her in personality than I am with any other character on the show. Except maybe Gladys Russell. I might be similar to Gladys…Poor girl.

We’re introduced to Marian Brook in Season 1 when her father dies and she learns she’s left with nothing. Her world is turned upside down. She receives a letter from her Aunt Ada in New York; it contains a train ticket and encouragement to come live with her and her older sister, Agnes van Rhijn. Marian accepts, arrives in the city with Peggy Scott who helps her on the journey, and she is thrust into New York society. Since Agnes married into an Old Money family, Marian is considered part of that family by connection. She makes friends with the Russell siblings across the street, who are New Money! She is also friendly with Mrs. Chamberlain, who broke the rules and is ostracized. ::gasps:: As she navigates society, an attorney friend from her hometown in Pennsylvania, Tom Raikes (who lives up to his surname) shows up and much to Agnes’ disapproval, he pursues Marian. She is persuaded to believe she is in love, and maybe in a sense she was. Maybe it was a first love kind of thing. The audience, and Aunt Agnes especially, knows something isn’t quite right. Tom proposes, Marian accepts, and an elopement is planned and attempted…Well, Marian follows through with the plan, Tom fails to show up and later dares to show his face at Mrs. Russell’s ball. ::boo, hiss, boo:: Marian is brokenhearted, but she’s young and resourceful, she will heal.

Season 2 opens and as the Opera War is being waged, we discover that Tom Raikes is newly married and though Marian is a little affected, she is moving on. She has taken a position teaching water colors painting at a school. ::gasps:: Aunt Agnes is horrified. No one from an Old Money family works. It’s not done, it’s not genteel. While Marian loves her life in New York and the society she belongs to, she finds purpose in teaching her class. It eventually involves into teaching other pupils how to read and write. Just when she finds her place in the world, a cousin of hers (or is it a nephew) by marriage, Dashiell Montgomery arrives on the scene. Newly widowed and the father of a daughter, he soon sets his sights on Marian as a prospective second wife. Marian appreciates his company and likes him and his daughter (despite them insulting her by saying “she’s not a real teacher” and making an off-handed comment that the poor people can wait to learn to read, her attendance at this fancy gathering is necessary). Dashiell is…not a bad man, and in Aunt Agnes’ eyes, he’s a good catch. I have a hard time getting past the Tsar Nicholas II beard that he sports (I swear, whenever he was on the scene, all I could think of was Tsar Nicholas II). But when he puts Marian on the spot by proposing to her in public, to be kind and show compassion to his daughter who desires the match, she accepts…

When the van Rhijn’s encounter financial troubles, I feared Marian would be pressured to continue with the engagement. Thankfully, she waited for a private moment to part ways with him. Aunt Agnes reminds Marian she must be careful – her reputation has taken two hits, society won’t accept a third. But she is free. Free to teach, to help with social causes, to perhaps find love with the Russell boy.

The internet seems divided about Marian’s personality type. One site claims she is a INFP and that’s close to what I am. In my recent binges of the show, I have seen parallels between our personalities. She seems more traditional at first, relying first upon her father and then Aunt Agnes for support. She and Peggy Scott befriend and support one another, yet it is not without some troubles. Though Marian believes all people are created equal and treats them as such, she originally thinks Peggy is poor and calls on her at the Scott family home bringing a “charity bag.” Thankfully their falling out only lasts an episode or two. We are horrified when she misses the racism Peggy faces at a shop she likes to buy from. A well-meaning person, she misjudges Tom Raikes. The audience can see he’s more in love with New York society than he is Marian herself. This nearly leads her into scandal. When Dashiell obviously begins to pursue her, rather than bluntly dissuade him, she permits his attentions because he does some kind things and he’s closely connected to her aunts. For me, that one hits close to home. Marian is nice, but when compared with the more dynamic Bertha Russell or force of nature Agnes van Rhijn, she doesn’t stand out.

A Collider article criticizes her for being the “least interesting character.” I initially overlooked her too. Maybe it was my acceptance of that I’m closer to Fanny Price of “Mansfield Park” than say Elizabeth Bennet of “Pride and Prejudice,” encouraged me to give Marian Brook of “The Gilded Age” a second look. Marian is more introverted; she often has her nose in complicated books like Henry James’ “The Portrait of a Lady” and she doesn’t make waves until she really has to. She enjoys fashion and pretty things, wishing for a fancy fan, that Bertha later gifts her. When pressed, she will stand her ground and fight for herself and others. The criticisms she’s received from articles and online comments, reminds me of the criticisms I received over the years. That I was too shy, not outgoing enough, that I rarely talked, that I could be a Miss Priss. I don’t always have the best judgment about people and I can be swayed into doing what others wish. I prefer to handle things privately.

You know what, there’s nothing wrong with being shy, introverted, reserved, traditional, etc, etc. Shy girls deserve a place in the narrative too. Marian Brook is this “least interesting” girl’s favorite character. I can’t wait to see what Season 3 has in store for her. ::sighs:: 2024 is going to be a long year.

Who is your favorite character from “The Gilded Age?”

[coolcattime]

Home and Free: Chapter Seven - Jordan

Characters: Captain Capsize, Sonja Firefox, Skipper Redbeard, Jordan Captainsparklez, Tucker Jericho, Tom Syndicate, Martha the Mystic, Mot Screziato, Alyssa Countybat, Waglington, Farmer Steve, Prince Andor, Jeriah, Lady Ianite (mentioned)

Relationship: Captain Capsize/Sonja Firefox, Captain Capsize/Jordan Captainsparklez (onesided)

AO3 Link

Full Story Tag

Jordan was not sulking. If there was one thing that he was certainly not doing it was sulking, because there was nothing to be sulking about. Sure, he was utterly humiliated by the woman he was meant to be marrying, and he didn’t want to see anyone because he was definitely going to be laughed at, but he was totally fine. He fired another arrow towards a target, hitting the bullseye as everyone before it had. At least one thing today was still working as it was meant to.

For once he was quite thankful for the fact that the training area was so private, as he didn’t want to see anyone right now, despite his normal desire for an audience. Even just the one pair of eyes on him right now was annoying him to no end.

“I’m not going anywhere, she humiliated me!” He said, not turning to look at Tucker who he knew was here trying to get him to leave the privacy of the training yard. Despite how he definitely wasn’t hiding or sulking, he still couldn’t believe it. She had rejected him. She rejected him! Threw him into the mud like he was some kind of animal. All that effort and she didn’t say yes. Who did she think she was embarrassing him like that? “I’m a disgrace, Tucker, mocked by the whole town!”

“Oh, come on, no one in this town would ever mock you,” Tucker said with absolutely no doubt in his mind that his words were true. While he wasn’t sure if Jordan was sullen, angry, or just embarrassed, he knew there was little reason for him to be. Sure, the proposal hadn’t gone great, but not a single person in this town was going to mock him for it. If anyone had anything to say about it, it was that Capsize was insane for rejecting him, and Capsize being strange wasn’t exactly a new conversation. Unfortunately, his attempts to persuade Jordan of this fact weren’t going anywhere. “You’re still the town’s hero, you just need to relax, have a few drinks, and remember that.”

“How will drinks help? I’ll still be the town’s laughingstock!” He said, notching another arrow and firing, the thump as it entered the target punctuating his annoyed tone. He’d been publicly rejected by the woman he was so clearly meant to be with, her stubbornness apparently knowing no bounds. How was he meant to show his face when he had failed to get the one girl he was interested in? He didn’t even understand where he was meant to go from here. He couldn’t back down, he said he was going to marry Capsize and he was, it was his destiny. He needed to continue his pursuits, making sure she does what Lady Ianite clearly wants just as much as himself, but he couldn’t let himself go through such an embarrassment again. “And what if we run into her? I don’t want to see her without a plan.”

“We won’t, she went on a walk out of town,” Tucker assured, deciding not to mention that running into her after such an event would’ve been incredibly unlikely anyway. She was hard to find at the best of times, which he was wondering now if that was an intentional avoidance as opposed to her simply being busy, there was little chance she’d be at any of the places he and Jordan frequent after today. He’d know that even if he hadn’t literally seen her walking out of town. Hearing his words did catch Jordan’s attention a little. If she was gone, he could easily spin the situation before she returned, making it far less embarrassing for him. That way no one would question his continued pursuit of her, see it as just a little bump in the road. Yes, this was the best news he could’ve gotten. He smiled, and Tucker did too, too happy at his friend showing any positive emotion to see the hints of malice in the expression. “I doubt she’ll go anywhere but home when she does head back to town. I mean, is there really any chance of her turning up at the tavern?”

“No, not with Redbeard out of town,” Jordan laughed, remembering the number of times the man had been dragged out while far too drunk by his sister. Even in those moments she still looked composed and beautiful, even when having to deal with that idiot. How the two siblings could be so close but so completely different was beyond him. It didn’t really matter anyway, he’d never have to worry about Redbeard again once he married Capsize, the man could very well act however he wanted. The fact that neither sibling would show up to remind him of the day’s failure got his mind settled. He could use some alcohol right now, not that he had sorrows to drown, it would just be easier to come up with what to do next when he felt more relaxed. He turned on his heel, with far too wide a smile for a supposedly heartbroken man. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Great!” Tucker said, happy enough that Jordan seemed to want to act more like himself that he didn’t say that, obviously, he had been waiting for him. On a better day he might point out such a thing to mildly poke fun at him, but not when he’d already had a rough day. Jordan barely waited for him, immediately striding for the exit, keeping his bow in hand and his quiver strapped to his back. If he was leaving, he wanted to do so quickly, before anyone could get the idea that he was hiding.

“Hurry up!” He called over his shoulder as he hopped the fence, right back to confidence and impatience. Tucker was barely a few steps behind, not that you’d be able to tell from the yelling. Jordan rolled his eyes as he jumped the fence a little more clumsily than he had.

The walk to the tavern was brisk, Jordan walking faster than he normally would. He wasn’t desperate to get there, but he was annoyingly cold. For once he wasn’t wearing his coat, as it was still covered in mud from Capsize shoving him into it. It better not be completely ruined, else he… well, she’d learn pretty quickly he was not the type of man you wanted to anger. Of course, he couldn’t do anything too rash, that’d ruin his chances of marriage, but he was sure there would be some way to teach her that. But, right now, he had other things to worry about.

“I swear to the gods, if anyone in there makes so much as a joke,” Jordan said with annoyance lacing his words. He didn’t want to hear anything of the sort, no matter how well natured they might claim to be. Frankly nothing about his crumbling future was funny. Tucker held back a laugh, knowing that would not be received well currently, but, well, sometimes it felt like he just didn’t know his own status in the town.

“No one’s going to make jokes, you’re like the main character of their lives,” He said, only half joking. Jordan grinned. That was the sort of thing he liked to hear. Obviously, he knew it was likely a bit of an exaggeration, but it still gave him enough of an ego boost for him to confidently throw open the doors of the tavern and stride inside.

Immediately there were eyes on him, something he was very used to and typically enjoyed. And it wasn’t as if he wasn’t enjoying it right now, but he was slightly on edge attempting to find any sign of laughter aimed towards him. He was ready to latch onto whoever tried and give them a lesson they wouldn’t forget, but it never came. That surprised him, had this happened to someone else, no one would’ve laughed harder than him. But not a single person made any noise even resembling laughter or a joke. Jordan smiled, maybe Tucker had a point.

“Next round is on me!” He shouted, met with cheers from the room. He had never felt so happy to hear that sound. How was his life this good? He obviously knew he was well-liked in the town, only a complete idiot would miss that, but he never really thought about how much that affected his life until this moment. Anyone else in town would have been left a laughingstock who had to hide themself in shame if they’d had someone react to a proposal like that, but not him. Gods, his life was great.

“See, I told you. They love you,” Tucker said, throwing an arm over his shoulder. If his words weren’t enough to let that sink in, his surroundings certainly were. There was an area set up by the fireplace for his exclusive use. Well, his and Tucker’s exclusive use as champions of the gods, but that was still a pretty exclusive club. Despite how in a time of relative peace and the gods barely being around the champions weren’t exactly doing great deeds of legends, he knew that he deserved his title. Clearly everyone else did too. And the area set up for them was nice, with three large armchairs and a low table, furniture that was arguably nicer than any of the other furniture in the place. Various hunting trophies of his decorated the place, which always gave Jordan a nice little ego boost to see.

“I suppose you can be right sometimes,” He said, his tone jovial enough, as the two sat down opposite each other. Drinks were hurried over to them, the staff not needing to take an order as they saw the two enough to know what they’d want and to know to make the drinks stronger considering the day Jordan had had. And Jordan began drinking almost immediately.

He was not drowning his sorrows. He didn’t have sorrows to drown as the whole thing was a fluke. It wasn’t as if Capsize wasn’t going to marry him, she just… didn’t want to. Admittedly that was a bit of a problem, but not nearly as big of one as the ego bruising that would happen if he needed to ask her again. He needed another way forward, for her to come around without being prompted a second time, but he had no idea how he would accomplish that. His frustration shone through as his grip on his glass was too tight, his brow furrowed.

“You know, I don’t think there’s a single guy in this town who wouldn’t want your life. Even today,” Tucker said, nursing his own drink. He genuinely meant that as, despite how they were both champions, there was something about Jordan that just drew people in. Everyone loved him, those who didn’t want to be with him instead wanted to be him. Even Tucker would admit, though not out loud and certainly not while still sober, that he himself could be jealous of all the attention the other man got. Of course, he’d never actually bring that up, it was an awful thing to think about a friend, especially when his life wasn’t bad. Just, gods, did Jordan’s seem great.

“Don’t exaggerate, no one would want to be me,” Jordan said, his tone not making it obvious that he was fishing for a compliment. It was a little subconscious as he was in a bad mood and getting an ego boost always cheered him up, but it was still fishing all the same. But seriously, who would want to be him right now? The only two Ianitees he had ever met, people sent here by the personal request of his Lady, and he’d utterly failed to win over the one that actually mattered. Sure, Redbeard liked him, but he was just a tag along and frankly there was no way that man had his Lady’s favour. It was Capsize alone that mattered. She was the one that was actually sent here, the one that his Lady so clearly wanted to meet him, but she was so needlessly stubborn about him trying to be with her. The whole situation was unbearable, he couldn’t understand how anyone could want to experience his life at this current moment. He downed the other half of his drink.

“Why wouldn’t someone? You’re the town’s hero!” Tucker raised his voice as he spoke, something noticed by Jordan, though he didn’t realise it was intentional. He wanted to get others to join in, to get him as distracted as possible from his problems by reminding him how great everyone thought he was. And he did successfully catch the attention of a few people.

“I’ve never seen a better shot than you with a bow! Think I could’ve trained my whole life and not be as good as you!” One man chimed in, lending on the back of the spare chair with his free drink in hand. He didn’t need to be bribed to compliment the town’s hero, but it certainly helped.

“Yeah, you must be the best hunter in this town’s history!” Another said, joined by a couple of cheers. Truly Jordan was a boon to the town. Obviously, he knew he was, but it never hurt to be reminded so he didn’t object.

“You’re the most handsome guy in town! I’d give anything for even a quarter of your looks.”

Similar statements were yelled through the tavern, anyone who could be heard was giving compliments to the man. The cheers and compliments filled the air of the tavern, all bringing a smile to Jordan’s face. Yes, while he may have had a bad day, he still had all his supporters. He could forget about his troubles for the night. And when he did need to figure out how to actually… persuade Capsize over to making the correct decision, well clearly, he’d have more than enough help to do so. After all, what was better to get someone listening to reason than a crowd?

🌹 🌹 🌹

Hours passed, the sun having set hours before, and the world had dipped well and truly into darkness. The tavern, however, was still lit up, full of life and cheer. Drinks were being downed far too rapidly, to the point that most of the crowd in there were drunk enough to have not noticed Jordan had stopped buying for anyone but himself a good while ago. Of course, he’d paid for a few rounds, as a little thanks for reminding him that he should be his confident self. However, the activities had long since devolved just into general drunken rowdiness. Not exactly an unusual state for the patrons of a tavern to be in, but not something he felt the need to fuel when they weren’t actively boosting his self-esteem. Still, the atmosphere was fun and carefree, something that seemed like it would be impossible to break until the doors were thrown open with a yell.

“Help! Oh gods, I need help!” The last person anyone was expecting to enter the tavern that night yelled desperately. Redbeard, who most certainly was not meant to be back in town for a number of weeks, half-stumbled into the building looking more a mess than anyone had ever seen him. He seemed to barely be managing to keep himself standing, his movement clumsy and frantic as he tried to get anyone to actually look at him. No one had any idea why this could be, though they had a very strong guess. But even Jordan had to wonder how being drunk translated to yelling like a madman. “Please, someone needs to help. She’s been imprisoned!”

“Whose been imprisoned?” Tucker asked, the first to speak above the half-worried half-amused muttering and murmuring of most other people in the building. He felt as though he already knew the answer. There was only one ‘her’ that could make him act like this, but he didn’t want that to be true. Redbeard turned upon hearing his voice, realising that his friends were here. Surely they’d help, they had to help. Attempting to move over to them was harder than it should be, as those in the tavern decided it would be fun to grab him, which wasn’t helpfully to his general distress in the current situation. Some were just watching, but they didn’t make him feel any better as despite his clear distress and confusion, they found how he was acting more entertaining than concerning, quietly laughing as he stumbled.

Jordan watched, twirling an arrow between his fingers, with a dull smile on his face. She’d actually gone off and hid. There was not a single doubt in his mind that, despite how Redbeard was acting, Capsize was perfectly fine. That after embarrassing him she had gone off to catch up to her brother and switched with him so she could be out of town for a few weeks and not have to confront what she’d done. And, of course, Redbeard was now going to spin some ridiculous tale to explain his return and her absence. Yes, it was clear to him that was what had happened. The fact that, unless something had already gone extremely wrong, there was absolutely no chance Capsize could’ve caught up to Redbeard when he’d had a day’s head start didn’t occur to him. Not to mention the fact that if she was confident in her ability to make the journey, she most certainly would’ve already been on the trip. Neither of these facts were so much a thought in his mind as Redbeard stumbled his way over. Instead, his focus was on having fun watching whatever ridiculous nonsense the man was going to spew, on seeing how far he’d take his story.

“Capsize! She’s locked in a dungeon!” He said as he reached Tucker, voice shaking from trying to keep even a semblance of calm. He took a hold of the man’s shoulders, clinging to him as if he was his only lifeline. With such close contact, it was impossible to miss that he’d clearly been crying, that his clothes were dishevelled and damaged. Jordan rolled his eyes at seeing his friend seeming to actually buy this nonsense, but he supposed not everyone could have as good a mind for spotting lies as him. “It’s all my fault. She just wanted to help me and now—now she’s—”

“Red just calm down, you’re not making any sense,” Tucker’s words made Jordan snicker. The man wasn’t going to make sense, it was clearly purposeful, and his concern for him was laughably unnecessary, so why not laugh? Tucker looked at him with brief confusion, an emotion that would’ve been shared by Redbeard if the man had been less panicked, if he was processing how people were looking at him. Jordan gave his friend a knowing smile which only confused him more. Shouldn’t he be concerned about Capsize? She must be in terrible danger if Redbeard was acting like this. But such an idea was not in Jordan’s mind.

“Please, just listen. There’s a Beast, a towering, horrible Beast, and—”

“A beast?!” Jordan said, his mocking tone lost on the other man. He’d never heard a more ridiculous notion, of a beast with the ability to imprison someone. It was a nonsensical claim that made it clear the man must’ve downed at least a bottle before bursting in. At least if he’d said ‘dragged off’ that might have been realistic. The crowd, hearing Jordan’s tone, turned to watch, quieting down a little in anticipation of what was to come.

“Yes! A Beast in a castle in the woods!” Redbeard said, his attention turned fully to Jordan. He had no idea of the man’s true intentions, that he didn’t believe his words, much less take them seriously. After all, Jordan was his friend, at least as far as he was concerned. Not to mention the man had proclaimed his love for his sister. Surely, he must want to help her. Unfortunately, Jordan had already decided what he was doing and helping was the furthest thing from it. “You can help right? You said you could hunt any animal. I don’t think I’d call it an animal, but I—I don’t know who else is going to be able to help.”

“Well, it really depends. How big is this beast?” He said, still twirling the arrow as he took a step towards the panicked man. He felt like playing, seeing how much he would say before he broke. He knew he was making things up, but he wanted to know just how far he’d go. Would he just keep saying more and more insane things, or break and admit at some point that he was making things up because Capsize was hiding in embarrassment?

“Huge! Bigger than me! Bigger than a bear!” He couldn’t tell if he was exaggerating. He could only remember through the layers of fear that stretched the true terrifying appearance of the Beast into something even worse. He could easily picture it looming taller than it did in reality, the fact it now held Capsize at its mercy only adding to the terrifying visage his mind had created. He tried to ignore the only half-stifled laughter from the onlookers, and tried to reassure himself that it didn’t matter. Jordan was listening, that was all that should matter because what he did, the rest of the town followed.

“And did it have horrible claws?” He questioned, taking another step forward to the point that he was almost too close for comfort. Redbeard was starting to feel unsure of his tone, as it sounded almost joyful in a way that it certainly shouldn’t. But Jordan didn’t care if he was being obvious, he was having fun, people were laughing. Frankly the man was a joke, he couldn’t get upset if someone took advantage of that. Perhaps he should try to hide his smirk, as to be able to keep the joke going longer, but he was enjoying himself far too much for that.

“Yes, claws and fangs…” He felt a little more hesitant, not quite trusting the look on his friend’s face. He glanced briefly towards Tucker, but he didn’t have the same concern as he did before. Of course, he was still worried, but if Jordan thought this was a joke, surely it must be. Sure, the state Redbeard was in seemed beyond anything anyone would do for a joke, but everyone else seemed to think this was funny, so maybe it was? Jordan himself was far too entertained, but he was annoyed to see the wavering. The man hesitating meant goading him was going to get less fun and he wanted to hear more about this apparent beast. “Please… please help. I don’t know who else can and… I can’t save her myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can’t,” He said, his voice almost dark and certainly mocking. He knew what he was doing, trying to get him to give in and follow him. He was probably going to shove him into the mud like Capsize did. Well, he wasn’t about to be humiliated for the second time today. If he thought he could play this kind of joke, well he was going to show what he thought of that. Only one person here was going to be humiliated and it wasn’t going to be Jordan. He was going to show he was on top just as he always had been. “Don’t worry, Redbeard, I’ll help you out!”

“Thank you! I can—” Redbeard’s voice froze cold as Jordan took hold of his arm in a vice grip. He tried to pull away but found the hold far too tight as he was marched towards the door. And, for the first time through his panic, he fully realised that people were laughing, that despite his words being true not a single soul in the building believed him. No one was going to help, a stark and terrifying fact only made clearer by Jordan throwing open the tavern door and shoving him to the ground outside. As he looked up more confused than anything, Jordan looked down with a smirk.

“There, you’re out! I trust you aren’t too drunk to make your own way home.”

“Wait, please, I’m not making this up! A Beast has Capsize! She needs help!” He begged, and in response Jordan laughed. He laughed harder than anyone should at the statement that the apparent love of their life needed help. Because, gods, he was really committed to keeping his sister’s whereabouts completely hidden by such a ridiculous claim. It would be a great show of loyalty if he didn’t sound pathetically insane.

“Oh, I’m sure she does. And I’m sure that once the market is over, she’ll miraculously escape and return fine as ever,” He said, to make clear he saw through this. He didn’t wait for Redbeard’s response, turning back inside and letting the doors slam. Though he didn’t actually do anything to stop him from returning inside, the resounding laughter from inside kept him out as well as any lock. No one believed him, not even the people he thought he could trust, or at the very least he thought would want to help Capsize. He felt lost, completely and utterly unsure of how to proceed if no one was going to help him. Completely drained of emotion and strength, he stumbled to his feet then towards home having no idea what he was supposed to do now.

Inside, Jordan finally feeling like himself again, returned to his chair. Another drink was handed to him as he sat down, a smile on his face. He looked to Tucker, expecting to see his friend in the same high spirits as everyone else, but instead found him frowning. Was he seriously still concerned after hearing that ridiculous story?

“Don’t look at me like that. You really believe that nonsense? If there was a castle and a beast of that sort in the woods, we’d know about it,” He said with disdain that he had to say the words at all. Sure, it was fun to listen to the man drunkenly spin tales, but there was no point in putting any thought into the reality of them.

“I know, I know, just… What if it’s a test? You know, you go out on a wild goose chase to prove you truly care about Capsize?” He was unsure, more just trying to justify the fact that he was concerned, that he wanted to go and see where Redbeard thought Capsize was. However, Jordan scoffed. As if he needed to prove his love for Capsize. Their connection was as clear as it was destined to happen. And even if she somehow didn’t know, well, he wasn’t going to do some test to prove it when she was the one constantly being stubborn about the two of them.

“No, she’s just gone to the market to hide from the embarrassing situation she created and got Redbeard to cover for her. Then that idiot came up with the idea of a beast because no one will go and check that. You’ll see, he’d probably tell us himself tomorrow,” He said, sure that the man would give up out of embarrassment in the morning. Frankly he knew Capsize loved to disappear and avoid him whenever things weren’t going her way, this was just the latest example of that. She’d be back soon enough, and this whole story would be forgotten as another ridiculous thing Redbeard had said. Which was a shame, if this beast wasn’t a fabrication from a drunken half-wit, he’d have no end of enjoyment in hunting it down.

[rafor]

Chapter 43 - Visitor - The Glitch

The day Aura Aetherius appeared out of thin air, she caused quite a stir. A pink dragon was not something one could easily overlook. Many people recognized her and flocked to her. She was besieged by admirers and well-wishers in our kingdom. She had asked for a private audience, so we escorted her to a secluded spot where we could talk without interruption. I was about to introduce myself, but she cut me off with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Raphael.” I gasped. My jaw dropped. It was fortunate that we had brought her to a place where no one else could hear us. Freya tried to correct her, saying, “I think you have the wrong dragon. He’s Nox. Raphael is gone.” She added, before I could utter a word, “Oh, what a pity. He was such a nice guy.” I managed to say, “Wait, how did you know it was me?” Freya whispered to me, “Nox, what are you doing?” I whispered back, “She can see through me.” She nodded and said, “Yes, I can, so there’s no need to lie to me. Raphael Martin.” I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. Freya looked equally stunned and worried. Aura continued, “So, it’s been a long time since we last met, hasn’t it?” I replied automatically, “Yes, your majesty.” She said, “Royalty to royalty, you can call me by my name, Raphael.” I said, “Yes, Aura Aetherius.” She said, “Good. Now, how have you been living all these years?” I said, “Divinely, I suppose.” I glanced at both Aura and Freya as I said that. Aura asked, “And what about your new body? Do you miss being human?” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if I should say yes or no, since I had almost forgotten how it felt. I said, “I’ve adapted. I guess.”

She extended a gracious offer. “If you wish, I have the power to restore you to your original form. All you have to do is ask.” I shook my head. “I’m content with who I am now. This transformation has given me a new life, a beautiful soulmate, and a family.” Freya smiled warmly at me. Aura, on the other hand, remained impassive as she spoke. “So you have no desire to return to what you were before?” I answered truthfully. “No, I don’t. I have a kingdom to protect and a family to love. I cherish this life. Thank you for your kindness.” Aura turned her gaze to Freya and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Freya. You are the legendary warrior queen of this kingdom, aren't you?” Freya nodded modestly. “It’s an honor for me as well, Aura. You are the guardian of the most powerful and ancient kingdom ever seen; that's remarkable.” She added, “You are very fortunate, you know? This man, sorry, dragon, is full of surprises.” Freya squeezed my hand and said, “Oh, I know. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” I cleared my throat and interrupted their exchange. “Ok, enough with the pleasantries. What brings you here, Aura? What is your purpose?” She answered casually. “Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to see how things were going here and catch up with some old friends.” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? You seem to have something else on your mind. What do you want from me?” She sighed and said, “Alright, fine. Let’s cut to the chase. I’m here to warn you that Akira is on her way to find you, and when she does, she will reveal so much that it will blow your mind.” I frowned and said, “Oh, great. I’m looking forward to it.” Freya asked me curiously, “Who is Akira?” I reminded her. “She’s the soothsayer who told me about the prophecy and all that nonsense that never came true. If she finds me, she will recognize me too.” Aura added ominously, “She will indeed. I should have realized sooner that she was using the visual connection to track you down. Your happy life is about to face some challenges. I’m afraid.” I shrugged and said, “She will understand my choice, and she can’t force me to do anything.” Aura said sharply, “She could force you but also persuade you. I know that deep down, you still have some interest in your main mission. What you’re doing now is just a diversion.” I said firmly, “I’m not going to abandon my kingdom and my family for some prophecy, I assure you.” She said coldly, “You said the same thing about my city, but you ended up leaving it anyway, by accident.” That was true, and I felt a pang of guilt. Freya said defiantly, “He has the right to make his own decisions, and he’s my husband now. You won’t take him away from me.” Aura then tried to provoke her by saying cruelly, “Just like your previous one? Anything can happen in this world. Nothing is certain.”.

It struck her like a blow. The grief of a lost past shone in her eyes, raw and unfiltered. I moved closer and wrapped my arms around her, trying to shield her from the pain and stop the tears that threatened to spill in front of Aura. I turned to Aura and said, “Was this really necessary? Please.” Aura’s voice was cold and hard. “You know better to not challenge me. You always have.” I shook my head. “We’re not challenging you. I would never do that. But please, don’t hurt her like this. She’s been through enough.” Aura smirked and tried to twist the knife in me too. “Then you’re the one to blame for the disappearance of the Guardians. And Akira, who hasn’t shown up for a long time, but I know she’s still looking for you. Who knows if they’re dead or abandoned their roles because of your absence? We trusted you, but you failed your duty.” Her words stung, but not as much as they used to. I felt a twinge of guilt, but it was overshadowed by a stronger feeling: happiness. I said, “How do you know that this wasn’t my new destiny? I have everything I ever wanted here. I married the love of my life and brought our kingdom to a new level of prosperity, improving the lives of our people and welcoming newcomers.” Aura didn’t answer, and in the silence, I whispered to Freya, “Calm down, please. Everything is fine. I’m still here.” She sniffled and said with a quivering voice, “I’m fine, thank you.” But she wasn’t. She was drowning in sorrow. She took another deep breath and said, “If you have to go, I’ll go with you. I promise.” I looked at her in confusion. “What? I’m not going anywhere.” Aura seized the opportunity to say, “See, you even have a companion for your mission.” I protested, “No, I didn’t agree to this. I’m not leaving.” Aura said, “Not now, but soon enough. You can’t escape your fate. You have to face it.” I felt a surge of shock and fear. Everything was changing so fast. That day, I didn’t leave or do anything else since I had no idea what this mission was supposed to be and because I didn’t want to give up my life. I was happy with my life. Truly happy. Aura spent the day touring the city and the sister kingdoms. She met the water dragons in their new realm. That was her last stop for the day before she returned to her kingdom. She spent the night in our domain, but the following day she resumed her quarrelsome attitude. We had no patience for her provocations and bid her farewell instead of hurling the insults that she deserved. Aetherius had a cryptic way of speaking about the future. Whenever she mentioned something that was bound to happen, we could never tell how imminent it was. It could be a matter of hours or years, so I decided to prepare myself and seek out Vesper for a private conversation.

I approached him and said, “Hey, how are you doing?” He looked at me and said, “Good, why did you want to talk with me? Did I do something wrong with Zephyrion?” I shook my head and said, “No, you did nothing wrong. Listen, I have something to tell you, but you have to promise me not to share it with anyone, not even Freya, okay?” He nodded and said, “Fine, I promise. What is it?” I took a deep breath and said, “I know that I’m not your biological father, and I didn’t act like one, and I’m sorry for that. But if something ever happens to me, could you promise me that you will take care of your mother and brother? With kindness?” He gave me a sincere look and said, “You don’t even have to ask me. I would help them and my little stepbrother, no matter what. I promise.” His words warmed my heart, and I said, “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” He then asked me curiously, “By the way, dad, who was the special guest that stayed with you these days?” I smiled and said, “That, my dear, was the queen of the greatest and most ancient kingdom of all time, where I was from, and a guide for the guardians. Her name is Aura Aetherius.” He exclaimed, “Wow, I should’ve talked to her.” I assured him, “You will get a chance to. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” Then we fell silent for a moment. I was waiting for him to say something else when I noticed a small detail and said, “Did you just call me dad?” He looked flustered and said, “Oh, sorry, I slipped. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” I replied softly, “No, don’t apologize. It’s fine. I don’t mind if you call me that. Thank you.” He said shyly, “Ok, even if... oh shoot.” I replied gently, “Don’t worry, I know.” We parted ways after that, and I felt a sense of relief. I went back to my daily routine.

[unfoldingmoments]

"the gift of gab"

This idiom means someone has the ability to speak easily, persuasively, or skilfully, often in a way that convinces others or helps them in social situations. People with the "gift of gab" can often talk their way into or out of situations, or take on many jobs or roles that require good communication.

EQ communication skills It involves being able to connect with people, understand their emotions, and adapt your communication style to engage others effectively. Key components of EQ that enhance communication include:Empathy: Understanding and resonating with how others feel. Social skills: Navigating social situations smoothly. Self-awareness: Being mindful of your own emotions and reactions.

the "gift of gab" or powerful communication can be developed, particularly through improving your EQ & practicing specific communication techniques. Here are some strategies to help cultivate this skill: 1. Active Listening Focus on listening more than speaking during conversations. By understanding what others are saying (both verbally and non-verbally), you can respond thoughtfully and with empathy. Practice summarizing or reflecting back what someone said to show you're engaged.

2. Empathy Work on understanding how others feel and seeing things from their perspective. You can practice this by imagining yourself in their situation or asking open-ended questions to gain insight into their feelings. Acknowledging emotions in conversations makes people feel heard and valued, which strengthens your communication.

3. Building Rapport Make an effort to connect with people on a personal level. Small talk, humor, or finding common interests are great ways to build rapport quickly. Pay attention to body language and facial expressions to reinforce your words with open, welcoming gestures.

4. Confidence and Clarity Speak clearly and confidently without rushing. This shows that you believe in what you're saying. Avoid filler words like "um" and "uh" and practice pausing instead, as this makes your speech more impactful.

5. Expand Your Vocabulary Reading and engaging in discussions across a variety of topics will help improve your vocabulary and knowledge. This gives you more tools to draw from when communicating.

6. Public Speaking Practice Join groups like Toastmasters, or take public speaking courses to practice speaking in front of others. This will help improve your articulation, confidence, and ability to persuade.

7. Storytelling Mastering the art of storytelling can make your communication more compelling. Practice telling stories that have a clear structure (beginning, middle, and end), engaging details, and a message that resonates with your audience.

Hope to overcome emotional whirlwind I’m struggling to manage my emotions and often find it hard to articulate my feelings or turn what I learn into action. It feels like I’m stuck in an emotional whirlwind. Help me to find the strength to trust in You, Lord, as I navigate this journey. I hope that, in time, I’ll find someone or a community to support me. While my mind can be my biggest obstacle, I believe that things can get better with faith and the right help.

[mialatovsines]

6 Ways In Which You Can Easily Increase Your Profits

Imagine what you could learn from over 500 articles based around internet marketing, business and finance, home business, legal matter, blogging, copywriting, email marketing, PPC, RSS, search engines, website promotion and more and what could this do for your business?

How to Turn an Idea into $100,000

Do you ever wonder why some people seem to get all the lucky breaks in business while others struggle to barely get by? They seem to be in the right place at the right time.

Fact is, maybe they’re not at the right place at the right time; maybe they just know how to make things “happen.”

As a business advisor I often see people begin and end a business before they have given it a chance to grow. For some reason, they seem to think that all they have to do is have a product or service to sell and the rest magically takes care of itself.

Nothing could be further from the truth. For any business to succeed there are steps that must be taken.

The Steps from Product Idea to Product Success

Michelangelo once said that his statue of David was embedded in the block of marble and he merely chipped away the edges to reveal it. Is your product idea inside your mind just waiting to come alive? Or, is your product already formed and you need only to smooth out the edges?

Using my Market-Step process your idea will come to life as we progress in the following steps from idea to launch:

Self-Evaluation

Concept Evaluation

Prototype Evaluation

Product and Market Planning

Product Development and Marketing Tactics

Product Launch, Marketing and Selling Please use this roadmap as a navigational tool to guide and monitor your progress.

Is This the PR You Thought You Were Getting?

You know, where you do something positive about the behaviors of those outside audiences that MOST affect your organization? And where you do so by persuading those important external folks to your way of thinking, then move them to take actions that help your department, division or subsidiary succeed?

Yes, that’s right, it’s where you use the fundamental premise of public relations to produce external stakeholder behavior change – the kind that leads directly to achieving your managerial objectives.

What it boils down to is (1) your public relations effort must involve more than special events, brochures and news releases if you really want to get your money’s worth, and (2), the right PR really CAN alter individual perception and lead to changed behaviors that help you succeed!

How to Easily Increase Your Profits

Do you remember the last time you went into a shop and the person ‘serving’ raced over to you, greeted you with a lovely smile, heaps of enthusiasm and said, “Welcome to our store, what can I help you with today?” And then listened attentively to what you had to say?

Doesn’t happen very often does it? In fact, while I was writing this, I couldn’t recall when I had experienced it. I’m sure I must have yet it would have been so long ago, I can’t remember.

Let me tell you what happened this week… I belong to a well-known trade exchange which I have found very useful for my business. I wanted to purchase a suitcase from a particular store which usually takes trade dollars.

From time-time the store will limit the use of trade dollars if they have reached their maximum for the month. Anyhow I quickly discovered this wasn’t going to be my lucky day.

A Simple Formula for Success

Leaders in the business world need public relations big time, and they show it every day.

How? By staying in touch with their most important external audiences and by carefully monitoring their perceptions about the company, audience member feelings about hot topics at issue, and the behaviors that inevitably follow.

Could there be an angle here for your business?

What I mean is, once you interact with, then learn what that key target audience of yours believes about you and your organization, a corrective public relations goal – a specific behavior change -- can be established.

Which then requires that you identify a strategy. There are just three choices here, create opinion where none exists, change existing opinion, or reinforce it.

Attracting Clients With Ease

Whether you are already running your own business, or still thinking about starting your own business, I suspect that deep down you know you have gifts and talents that can really make a difference to others.

In an ideal world, you'd spend the majority of time doing the work you love to do, with a steady stream of clients knocking at your door as and when you want them. The reality, however, can be somewhat different, and the whole process of finding new business can be a time consuming challenge full of uncertainty.

Some would be entrepreneurs are so intimidated by the idea of finding clients that they never put their dreams into action. Others start promising businesses, yet give up disillusioned by the frustrating lack of clients. Some die-hards persist, but at great emotional and financial cost as the uncertainty about attracting and maintaining clients takes its toll.

Just imagine! You can use these articles to build, promote, advertise, write articles, newsletters, build autoresponder messages and much, much more for your business. These articles are loaded with good keywords for search engine rankings and they are yours for the taking as long as you leave the resource boxes in tact. If you want to read the rest of the articles above and to read more about internet marketing, than this is the place to do it!

[stikiduk]

Hello it’s me again, I’m doing another long list of HC’s of my second favorite mayhem member, Lips!

If Lips was human, I feel like he’d be mixed (half white half black).

Lips is easily the most component and intelligent member of the band, (which isn’t saying much) while still keeping the ‘chill’ vibe most other members have. He has said many genuinely intelligent and competent things. The only thing holding this back is his strange accent.

Speaking of the accent, I’ve seen a couple of theories on why his voice has changed so drastically. I personally have an idea that the way he sounds in muppets mayhem is how he normally sounds. His earlier appearances were him putting on a voice so the others/audience could understand him. He has let it slip a couple times, like saying ‘spitachio’ and ‘jackorabbits.’ Sometime between the 2015 series and Muppets Mayhem he just stopped caring about being understandable because it was too hard for him.

Lips is partially deaf because he kept forgetting his earplugs. He sometimes mixes up names and misunderstands things because of it.

He’s one of the most emotional members of the band, second only to Animal. When one of his friends is gone for longer than normal, he immediately thinks they’ve died. Similarly whenever someone gets sick or injured, his first thought is to take them to the hospital.

His eyes are actually never fully closed, he just squints all the time because, like Zoot, light bothers his eyes. He has been offered sunglasses many times, but he only ever wears them when he wants to look ‘cool.’

He has a beautiful singing voice but can’t use it often.

(Thanks to my dad for saying this) Lips would probably listen to and enjoy works by the caretaker. I don’t know entirely why, other than he finds it oddly soothing. You can sometimes catch him and Zoot playing certain melody’s from their work. Zoot would probably listen to it with him but sometimes it hits way too close to home for him (iykyk).

He hates whenever someone mocks his hair, even as a joke. I have this idea that Zoot stopped him from changing it by telling him he looked more like a dandelion, and he likes dandelions.

Very easy to persuade.

Loves the sun, hates sunlight.

Hair is very soft of course. Will let people who are close to him touch it. It reportedly smells like honeysuckle.

Him and Janice were friends since childhood. They constantly were paired together for their similar appearances. He then met Zoot during highschool, since they were both in the school band at the time. Lips, Zoot, and Janice became a tightly-knit trio for the years they were in school for. After highschool, Lips traveled around to pursue his career in music and show business. He met a lot of famous musicians and celebrities along the way. Soon enough the found himself at the muppet theatre, where Kermit hired him to join the orchestra. This was where the band met Lips again for the first time, and he officially joined them.

Very easily distracted when not playing music. He would often be seen straying off from the group, sometimes dragging Zoot with him.

He likes looking under rocks to find bugs.

Like I’ve said in the previous post, everyone in the band basically dates each other, with Animal as their ‘child.’ Lips is very affectionate with his fellow band-mates, but is closest to Janice and Zoot, of course.

Based on some fanartists, I do feel like Lips is one of the greatest members of the band to cuddle with. He is fairly warm, and he doesn’t snore that much if he falls alseep.

I’m starting my headcanon journey today with my favorite mayhem member Zoot. It also includes some canon info I found via. Electric Mayhem’s twitter. Look down here vvv

First off, I feel like if he was human, he’d be Jewish-American.

Starting with one I have already shared, Zoot has a violent nature towards Mahna Mahna and no one else.

Now with the first actually canon fact, Zoot has no sense of time. He actually deems time a ‘social construct.’ Perhaps it’s because of oversleeping.

Speaking of oversleeping, I’m confident he has narcolepsy. It’s almost obvious because of his habit of falling asleep at completely random times. This is also why he has poor memory, because he mixes up his dream memories and real life memories. He also sings and plays in his sleep which is canon.

Another canon fact from the twitter is that Zoot calls himself ‘Wilbur’ in his head. Perhaps it’s just a gag, but I’m taking it seriously because it’s my account and I can do what I want.

Because of this I have two ideas. One is Wilbur is Zoot’s middle name. In this context, his name would be Zoot Wilbur Zootowski. But there’s also another one that’s more ‘out there’ yet I like it more. Wilbur is Zoot’s real first name, but people always called him ‘Zoot’ because of his last name and it’s similar to the sound of a saxophone. After a while he forgot his real name (specifically in the muppet movie) and since Floyd called him Zoot he just started to believe his legal name is Zoot.

For something more deliberately from my mind, I have a couple ideas for Zoot’s eyes. One is that is eyes are completely whited out or a bright icy blue. Either way they’re pretty eerie. That and the fact bright light hurts his eyes are why he wears sunglasses.

(Second image comes from Pinterest)

I don’t exactly know how to label his gender and sexuality aside that he forgets his identity often. Think “Hold on, I’m a guy?” or like those scenes from Sam and Max. Think,

Floyd: Don’t look to excited Zoot, you don’t even like girls!

Zoot: I don’t?

Zoot actually learned his telekinesis from Janice sometime between the 2015 muppets and muppets mayhem.

Speaking of Janice, I think it’d be both funny and sad if Zoot completely forgot about their relationship after a while. Maybe when Janice got back with Dr. Teeth, Zoot was completely alright with it because he eventually forgot they were dating in the first place.

Might just be my multi-shipper brain talking, but I also think he might’ve had a fling with Floyd as well. He forgot about that too. After all these years I feel like all the members of the band are dating each other (except Animal of course) so at this point he doesn’t have to remember who exactly he’s dating. (Also their ship name could be Floot like ‘flute’ and I think that’s funny)

Another canon fact, Zoot’s first experience with a saxophone was him picking one up in a music shop and the owner kicking him out.

Zoot is a fan of cats and manatees, which also comes from a tweet. He’s afraid of snakes.

Also I feel like Zoot met Jimmy after he bought a pair of ‘muppet shoes’ off the internet. Turns out his shoes themselves were muppets.

His two belly buttons were the result of some sort of mutation, and I don’t think I need to elaborate.

The reason he sometimes says ‘sorry father!’ when he wakes up sometimes is because his dad would get angry at him for napping every now and then.

He doesn’t smoke, since he wants to keep his lungs healthy to be able to play his instrument.

Lastly, a few people have explained Zoot’s odd personality on constantly being under the influence of something. In my opinion, I feel like Zoot is just genuinely like this. And I love him for that.

[fluffyfantasticducky]

Not how I Hoped this’d Turn Out

SORRY I SAID I'D POST ANOTHER THING MAYBE ON FRIDAY BUT I GOT A MINOR BLOCK HERE IT IS!

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki should know better than attacking an inventor in their invention lab, especially when they were working on magnetic cuffs that could leave him stuck and helpless.

☆ Word Count: 5,000 exactly... wow.

☆ Notes: Lee!Loki. Part 2 of The God’s Little Secret. I always see fics of Loki getting revenge and while I LOVE that trope (personally I recommend this trilogy fic by @writingfics-passingtime and these two fics by @just-another-blog-of-fluff both write just masterpieces and are one of the main reasons I returned to write and post myself)... I want it to blow up in his face for a change. Next one he will get revenge, I promise... maybe lol.

☆ Warnings: Loki is restrained (rather unwillingly but deservedly)? I know it's k¡nky for some people but it's not what I'm going for.

It had been a few weeks since the track course incident and Loki’s mind was on the edge. Every time he walked in a room where giggles were coming out, he could feel his own body tensing up, or when he saw you in a particularly amusing conversation his mind feared that you’d be talking about what had happened.

But… he couldn’t say he was mad at you. It hadn’t been your fault that he got stuck —as much as he would love to blame you—, you had spent a good while trying to help him out… And… he could easily say he hated being tickled, he was the God of Mischief, the liar trickster after all. Yet, deep down he knew it had been the most fun thing that had happened to him since he moved in.

Still, he couldn’t let you believe you had the upper hand, that he was some soft pushover like his brother than anyone you could mess up with. He was the God of Mischief, terrorizer of New York only a decade ago, of a race of monsters that inspired fear in the heart of those around him.

It was clear what had to be done. He needed to get revenge. And what better than giving you a taste of your own medicine?

It was no secret that you were ticklish, Tony often took the liberty to poke you around whenever you were zoning out to bring your attention back to whatever he was saying. Steve and Bruce would do the same if you took tinker and garbage to the table whenever they were just relaxing as a way to persuade you of taking them away and just relax. Bucky and Thor would often tickle you to tears as well, Bucky because you pushed his buttons often by tickling him yourself until he caved and got his revenge, and Thor… was just Thor.

It was just a matter of time. You had the decency to not bring up his own sensitivity to light, so he could offer you the same courtesy and not tickle you to tears with an audience. And so, Loki waited, talking normally to you for the next days, waiting for the perfect chance to strike, needing to guarantee you’d be alone for enough time for him to execute his vengeance. Joining you more to learn your schedule, at the expectancy of the day when he’d have you to himself.

“Loki, I’m gonna watch The Princess Bride tonight.” You chimed in one night, “if I recall, you haven’t watched that one, wanna join me?”

Perfect, the lounge room was far from the most transited areas and there was no bonding movie night scheduled until the weekend so no one would bother you.

“If you insist” Loki shrugged.

“Cool, it’s a bit embarrassing though, the movie is silly but The Princess Bride’s gotta be one of my favorite mov—”

“Did I hear correctly?!” Wanda quipped from the door, “You’re watching The Princess Bride?! Can Vis and I join you?! I’ve been trying to get him to watch it for weeks now!”

“Ah… s-sure…” you mumbled, before forcing some energy in your demeanor, “The more the merrier, right Loki?”

And just like that his perfect plan was ruined. In his own frustration, he failed to see the deflected look in your eyes as Wanda pushed you to the lounge room to watch the movie.

Loki made constant snarky comments, throughout the movie that made you laugh but he had to admit the movie was entertaining enough given the light-hearted genre, being —as you called it— self-aware enough of its limitations and made the jokes somewhat enjoyable… or rather, it was nice to hear you giggle at each one of them. You also would often look at him to see his reaction, which he would correspond with a smile and a nod of approval that made you smile proudly. He also noticed how you would constantly eye Wanda and Vision who were cuddling happily on the other side of the couch, almost longingly, and then return your attention to the movie, wrapping your arms around you, as if hugging yourself.

The movie night wasn’t a complete waste of time, given he heard the original Avengers, Barnes, and Wilson had a meeting with some government higher-ups the next morning and would be gone all day and Wanda would take Vision on a date, so when he casually asked your plans you responded you’d be working all day in the lab.

Perfect.

With Stark and Banner out of the building, Peter in classes, and no visit from the Wakandian royalty, you were the only person who would stick around the lab… all day. It was perfect.

The next morning he greeted you at breakfast and you informed that you’d be all day at the lab as you served yourself a mug of coffee bigger than your head. He nodded, responding he’d be reading in the library in case you wanted to take a break. And so you parted ways after eating, or so you thought… because little did you know Loki had concealed his presence to follow you to the lab and just as he expected, you had been the only person, listening to those cheesy songs that always made you dance while working around in the empty room, Loki couldn’t help but hesitate and consider delaying his revenge just so he could watch you like this a little longer.

But he had made up his mind and if Loki was one thing, was stubborn. He sneaked into the lab and waited for you to turn around, to attack you the second you turned your back on him. And you did, focusing your attention to the table with a bunch of scrap and tools to continue your work, with your back facing the door was when Loki decided to strike.

He moved with great agility and speed as only he could do to be behind you and right when he had his hands just inches from your sides…

“AAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

CLINK! CLINK! CLANG! WHAM!

Loki couldn’t see what had happened until it was too late. You had apparently noticed him right in time and in a swift motion, he didn’t even think you capable of you had thrown two big metal rings that automatically adjusted to the size of his wrists and flung him a metal clothesline pole behind him, leaving his arms above his head.

“What the fuck, Loki?!” you protested, with a hand over your chest trying to pace your breathing, “Why would you do that?!”

“Me?! You’re the one who attacked me!”

“I attacked you?! You almost gave me a heart attack, I’m the victim here!”

“You?! Look at me!” he snapped back tugging his wrists, internally concerned but impressed that didn’t feel them budge. “What even is this?!”

“Those are throwing cuffs, they’re only for containing prisoners for interrogation and stuff. So far we can only use it here in the compound and the Quinjet since they’re made of and to stick only to Vibranium… But I’m working on some updates to hopefully use in a real bat—”

Your little speech was interrupted by a soft chuckle from the god who looked amusedly at how quickly your anger had vanished to ramble about your invention.

“Why am I even explaining this to you?! You tell me what you were you trying to do here!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything! Unhand me!”

Loki was known for his smooth use of words, the way he could charm armies against him and woo ladies with purely his silver-tongue… this… was not a good example of that, because the only thing he did was trigger a suspicion within you, and now you were dead set on getting answers.

“Tell me, or else—”

“Or else what, little mouse?”

He was confident in the fact that you were known for your sense of mercy and exceeding gentleness.

When you were starting your training combats it took Thor and Hulk an awful lot of convincing that it was alright to punch them or use any offensive move against them and that it would not harm them in any way, and it took, even more, to consider fighting the regular humans… except for one particular redhead that even Loki feared in a hand to hand. You wanted to be a hero and you had the potential to be a great fighter and definitely, you were working hard to be, but your strength wasn’t on hurting others so torturing the answer out of him was out of the question. He had the upper hand.

Or so he thought. Too focused on that fact to remember you were not above…

“Or else I’ll tickle it out of you.” …other methods.

“What?!”

“You heard me” you grinned. “You can tell me now and we’ll see from there or I can tickle the answer out of you.”

“You can’t be serious” Loki scoffed.

“Oh but I am…” you smiled deviously, “it was so much fun the last time, I wouldn’t mind repeating.”

Loki sucked in a breath, considering his options, he couldn’t tell you the truth without you dishing out the same punishment, and if he lied and you didn’t fall for it —no, if you didn’t feel satisfied with his answer— then you would still…

“Time’s up!” you giggled as you shot your fingers to his sides scribbling over the spot, effectively sending Loki into a giggle fit.

“Hehe-hey! D-dohohohon’t do thahat!”

Curse him for choosing lighter clothing today, if he had trouble the last time when he was wearing his full-on armor, having just the light robes and the long leather Asgardian gilet did very little to protect him given you could and did simply sneak your hands past it.

Loki let out an undignifying yelp before bursting into giggles when your hands traveled up to under his arms making him redouble his efforts to try breaking free. But no matter much he tugged and pulled the cuffs were not budging… in other circumstances, impressive, right now, a nightmare.

But he had no time to elaborate when you made a comment that made his blood pressure go through the roof.

“You know Loki, last time I didn’t get to tickle your tummy” you smiled, “I’m quite eager to see now.”

Your eyes had no tease, no devilish glint, nothing but playful curiosity. And in this circumstance that was the most dangerous thing to have you feeling.

“N-no!” he protested, “Don’t you dare! I– I will–”

“Please say squeal like a little girl” you chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I am a god, and I would noOOOT! HEHEHEHEHEY!”

The sound coming out of the Asgardian made his face heat up to a dark red color which at least he had the advantage that at this point it was impossible to tell if it was because of his frenetic laughter, his embarrassment own or because the one from the adoring look in your face as you undid him.

“Gohohosh Loki, you’re the cutest thing” you chuckled.

You still couldn’t believe your eyes, Loki was always frowning and looking annoyed at everything around him, his only smiles were sarcastic and sly so now, having him here and with the brightest and genuine smile pouring giggles like a toddler still seemed like a dream.

“GEHEHET YOUR HAND OHOHOUT OF THERE!” he whined when your hands experimented on the lower stomach, occasionally pinching the sides of his belly.

“Oh, come on” you giggled, “this spot is really cute, can’t you stand it just a bit longer?”

“YOHOHOU’LL REGREEEEEET TH-THIS NOHOHOHO IHIHIHI WILL ACK NAHAHA!”

“I don’t know Loki,” you teased him, “you keep threatening but you don’t cooperate.”

You moved a bit lower, scribbling right above his waistline and his reaction became far more hysterical, his laughter became frantic and loud, and his movements became frantic, shaking his head and stomping his foot on the ground over and over as if that would’ve helped to dissipate the sensations.

You couldn’t help but laugh along.

“STOHOHOP STOP ST!” he protested as a cough left his mouth with the laughs.

That had been enough cue for you to stop immediately and he dropped his weight, relying on the restrains to keep him in place.

“You good there?” you asked concerned for a moment, but something in you decided to not let him go so easily, “I don’t suppose you are going to answer my question now, will you?”

He shook his head, refusing to admit defeat to such a childish form of torture. Or perhaps, curiosity itched him to know what you would do then.

“Fine… F.R.I.D.A.Y. care to illuminate?” you asked playfully.

“Of course” the voice responded, on what Loki could’ve sworn was an amused tone.

The computer behind you lit up with the video footage of when Loki had peaked in the room to see the little dance party you had had alone earlier which made him chuckle at your now blushing face.

“It’s quite endearing that you think that’s dancing” he chuckled.

“No one asked for your opinion” you groaned. “There’s a good reason why I only dance alone.”

“Yes, clearly”.

“Fri, can we skip this a bit?” you asked annoyedly.

The video sped up to when Loki rushed into the room and the image froze right before you had trapped him. Showing Loki standing behind you with his hands hovering over the back of your sides shaped like claws. Loki could see in your face that you were quickly putting the pieces together in your mind, resulting in the image of a devious smirk.

“You were trying to tickle me” you concluded.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” he muttered. Beep! “Wh—”

“Remember that I said these were also for interrogation?” you smiled proudly.

“A lie detector?” Loki chuckled, “Aren’t you too old to be playing with science-fiction?”

“Not when bringing it to reality is part of your job,” you said, trying to ignore the blush that dusted your cheeks, “Aren’t you too old to be setting up tickle attacks?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, love; I’m the God of Mischief” Loki replied, “it’s part of my job.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that working out for you?” you chuckled.

Oh, how he wished you wipe that cheeky grin off your pretty face.

“Mortal, I suggest you not to cross me—”

“The consequences are deadly, yeah, yeah.” You shrugged uninterested. “I’ve heard the speech before, now, how about we see if you can take what you were trying to dish out. But you know what? No, I’m gonna keep tickling you until you say you’re sorry.”

“You’re not serious.” Loki hissed.

“Try me” you irked him by poking his rib.

“I’m a god I don’t apologize to mortals like yourself!”

“Man, you keep saying that and I just keep proving you wrong” you teased him, “No wonder why you got stuck in like the 5thcentury BE with that mentality.”

“You insolent little bAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHA!”

Keeping your habit of not letting him finish his threats, you had shot your hands to his ribs and began scribbling his upper ribs, kneading in between the lower ribs caused him to yelp and protest shouting insults.

“Not nice being so rude, Loki Doki” you teased him, “what kind of things do they teach princes in Asgard?”

“DOHOHON’T CALL ME THAHAHAHAT YOU—!”

“Alright, that’s it!” you threatened him as you shot your hands up to his underarms.

The poor god immediately went back to the kicking legs frenzy, kicking his legs try and squirming as much as he could. But once again the limited motion played against him when you simply walked behind him and pulled him into a hug to continue tickling his armpits.

“STOHOHOHOP IT!”

“No-uh!” you giggled as you wriggled your fingers on the center of his armpits, causing Loki to drop his weight on the cuffs to bend over forward.

That gave him an advantage given he got away enough from you for a moment, so it bought him time to catch to breathe. But your mind remembered a particular detail that if Loki had considered, would’ve made him eat his pride and give it up…

“Ready to apologize?”

“I-In your dreams…”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… Just remember that I offered you an out” you smiled.

You stretch your arms once again but this time you remained behind him, scribbling your fingers over his back, gently scratching over his spine.

“YOU C— ACK! NAHAHA!”

“It would all be so simple if you weren’t so proud” you sighed pityingly. “It’s almost as if you liked this.”

“ZIP IT, YOU OAF!” he screamed.

He felt your hands stop for a second, but Loki wasn’t stupid, nor he had just met you. He turned around to see that thoughtful gaze of yours, the one you had whenever you were thinking. And soon… that smile, that smile meant trouble.

“You know I never got to see if your knees were ticklish last time” you grinned.

“Oh no, no, no, NO!”

“Are you apologizing?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Better for me” you chuckled.

You lowered to scribble over the back of his knees, making him yell at the top of his lungs, clearly he did not expect it to be such a bad spot for him.

“GEHEHET OUT OF THEHEHERE!”

“Apologize!” you laughed.

“FORGEHEHET IT!”

You gave an experimenting squeeze to the back of his thighs.

“HAHAHAHA S-STOP!”

“You know what I want to hear, Loki Doki.” You teased him in a sing-song voice as you used one of your hands to tickle the center of his lower back.

Finally, he cracked.

“F-FINE! I’M SOHOHORRY!”

Just as quickly as this whole ordeal had started it was over once those two words left his lips. He was left to catch his breath while you turned around to your desk and shuffled through your stuff.

Loki could barely keep his head high enough to look at you when you gasped out a “Here it is!” and pulled a little piece of little hollow metal plaque that illuminated into a translucid screen in your hands with a big red button that you pressed dramatically.

Normally, Loki would’ve made a sarcastic remark about you being immature or ridiculous. But he realized he didn’t have the energy for it the worst way possible: his body caved into his weight the second the cuffs opened. He didn’t think he’d be this exhausted.

“Shit!”

But you didn’t let him fall, you rushed to him, and with that humble strength, you had you caught him and held him as you could, clumsily maneuvering to throw his arm over you to serve him as a crutch.

“I guess I underestimated how ticklish you are, heh…” you joked awkwardly, earning a little frown from the tired God. “Um… Sorry.”

He stayed silent as you helped him walk through the building and to the elevator, once out you guided him to the main living room and lowered him to the biggest couch.

“Stay here,” you said gently. “I’ll get you some water.”

Truthfully, Loki had recovered mostly during the elevator ride, but it was cute to see the effort you were putting to tend for him. He peaked over the back of the couch to get a better look at you. You had served a huge glass of water with ice, and a plate with a pile of your famous chocolate chip cookies.

Loki laid back down when he saw you grabbing everything to go back to him. He saw you place the cookies on the coffee table before offering him a hand to help him sit up, and keeping the act, Loki accepted it to sit down and receive the glass of water.

“Sorry if I overdid it…” you mumbled. “I guess I got carried away…”

You kind and precious thing. If anyone knew something about taking things too far, that was the god who trying to make his father proud killed his progenitor. But seeing you so nervous was amusing to let slide.

“You should know better than to take advantage of someone helpless,” he said sipping from the glass to hide that he couldn’t find any bite in his tone.

“Hehelpless?!” you barked out a laugh snatching the glass from his hands to place it on the table. “You are a lot of things but helpless is not one of them! And you basically asked for it!”

Perhaps all the laughing from earlier got to him but Loki had a hard time holding back a smile at the adorable shade of pink creeping up your cheeks.

“Darling, you torture me for hours and now you dare tarnish my good name, you should be ashamed,” he said dramatically.

“Oh, I’ll show you torture!” you growled playfully and tackled him to knead his sides.

This time, having full motion you were only able of getting a few breathy laughs out of him before his hands were on your wrists, pushing you away from his torso.

“Ihi think that’s been enough for a day” he laughed softly, and you nodded sheepishly.

“Come here” you offered gently tapping your lap.

He looked at you confused until he remember you often did this with the others. When they came back overwhelmed from a mission or a bad diplomatic event, you’d do everything in your power to make them feel better. From baking something sweet to eat, caressing their hair, or simply listening to the drained one rant about it while you cleaned their wounds if necessary. Loki had always declined these recovery interventions of yours besides maybe stealing a cookie or two when he arrived and left for his room, feeling like he couldn’t let his guard down in front of anyone… why if he hadn’t accepted in more extreme circumstances being tickled was what it took for him to accept? He would never know. But he just rested his head on your thighs and soon felt your fingers running through his hair.

He could barely restrain the delighted sounds he could feel bubbling in his chest at your touch, but apparently, he couldn’t completely conceal his enjoyment.

“It’s a shame you don’t smile more often” you sighed happily, “you look beautiful when you smile.”

He opened his eyes to look at you and felt a warm surge within him at the sight of you, your eyes open like plates and your face red as a cherry.

“Do I?” he grinned.

“Well, yeah…”

“What else do you love about me?” he teased you.

“Love is a strong word” you mumbled before a devilish grin tugged the corners of your lips, “but your laugh is really pretty too.”

Loki frowned at you as he felt his cheeks warming up. You giggled before your expression softened again.

The two of you chatted for who knows how long, but the sun had set, time flew by talking about everything and nothing, from books and movies Loki had been forced to watch and his opinions, to how he felt living in the compund and lot of in betweeen.

But then he noticed your expression darken, making Loki sit back up a bit straighter.

“What’s the mater?”

“We cool?” you asked nervously.

Loki didn't even feel like masking the genuine endearment that surged within him as he smiled at you.

“Of course, darling. I—”

“Ah, young tinkerer, good to see you!” a familiar voice said from the doorframe, making Loki roll his eyes.

“Thor, hi!” you smiled casually.

“Brother?” Thor asked confused. “What were you doing—?”

Damn. Loki had lost sense of space, forgetting that other people lived here and could walk in on you whenever, and out of all people, clearly the most imprudent of them all.

“He helped me in the lab today!” you responded quickly. “Remember the special cuffs I’ve been working on? Loki is trying to help me to make them magic proof.”

“Wonderful, brother!” he said, “I offered my help too, I destroyed a couple of proto-tips myself until they managed to make them stronger.”

“Prototypes, Thor.” You giggled. “But yeah, Thor’s the reason I had to make them Vibranium since every other metal just… died.”

That explained why he couldn’t break free…

“It makes you quite stiff after a while, doesn’t it brother?”

It wasn’t hard for Loki to tell that the safest run was playing along, rather than explaining what had actually happened.

“I would say so.”

“Excellent, you rest by could join us, brother!” Thor suggested, “That way we could progress twice as fast with the list of movies we should watch!”

“And yet, we can barely make you grab a book that’s not in the pile of horror” Loki grumbled tiredly.

“Come on, Loki, it’ll be fun!” you suggested invitingly.

Whether you were aware of it or not, your eyes grew bigger, pleadingly looking at the young trickster. And maybe it was your concern for him earlier, maybe he wanted the chance to get you running your fingers through his hair again, or maybe he had lost his mind.

“Of course” he nodded lightly, “I’ll join you.”

“Great!” Thor smiled brightly.

“We could watch The Mask!” you suggested once your way to the lounge room, “They mention you in that one, Loki.”

“Me? Should I be concerned?” Loki asked, “Seeing the nonsensical stories your people have of me and my father’s horse.”

He felt rather pleased with himself at the sight of you and his brother laughing heartedly at his little joke. Mythological inaccuracies had been one of the biggest teasing sources for Loki and Thor since each joined the Avengers, how they all thought Loki had something to do with the procreation of Sleipnir or that Thor was a redhead.

“I’m still convinced that you are lying about that one, Odinson” you elbowed his side playfully, earning a chuckle from him. “It’s alright, you’ll admit it when you feel ready.”

“Darling, your lifetime will be over before I even give into admitting something that absurd.”

“So, you admit there’s something you’re not admitting!” you accused him as seriously as you could with little giggles coming out for you.

“Whahat?” Loki laughed, before lowering down to look at you right in the eye “you are truly delusional.”

“And you’re loving it” you smiled booping his nose.

Your little banter was interrupted by Thor’s rumbling laughter bringing you back to reality, making you blush and clear your throat to regain composure.

“Hey, I’ll go back for a bit to make pop-corns, you guys go ahead and set the movie, ‘kay? ‘Kay!”

And before any of them could protest you had rushed out through the hall. Leaving Loki alone to deal with his older brother, who was giving him the most teasy grin he had.

“What?” Loki asked dryly.

“It’s nice to see you in love, brother” Thor said innocently. “It’s been a while since I saw you flirting so carefree.”

“Brother, you are either stupid or blind.”

“Come on Loki, you’re not fooling anyone” Thor chuckled, “Everyone can tell you’re interested in her! Even the young Spiderling knows!”

“You’re all morons, I’m not surprised that you all would assume something like that.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Thor asked.

“She’s mortal, no matter how much she cleans her workspace it always messes up again, she only seems to wear unflattering oversized clothes, her face always seems to get stained with oil from her machinery and–”

“And yet you are completely infatuated” Thor chuckled. “Despite what you think of me, I’m not stupid.”

Thor patted Loki’s back and went ahead, leaving Loki stupefied in the middle of the hall. Could his brother be right?

None of the Avengers were particularly mean to Loki, they allowed him to live with them and he even had his own room and access to peak technology and budget to buy whatever he needed, after all. But Loki knew it was only because of the love Thor somehow still had for him. They still acted tense around him, they would often drop what they were doing if it was too distracting and keep an eye on him and would talk to him as formally as they talked to the dull bureaucrats that visited to complain about whatever. He seemed to be tolerated because of who his brother was… at best. Except for one person.

You always acted so warmly and friendly towards him, cracking jokes, inviting him over to the bonding activities, and just treating him as a friend in general, even when he acted cold, distant, or even aggressive in response… it wasn’t like he knew anything different. But that never pushed you away, you were still that bright and charming presence in his life. A very self-destructive part of him kept telling him it was purely out of pity, that behind his back you were making fun of him or trying to manipulate him.

But ever since that night you had proved him otherwise. Sure, you had tickled him half to death —twice now—, but the whole time it felt purely playful, your teases were innocent, and you didn’t laugh at him but with him. And about his own laughter, he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed that much, it had been nice… It felt safe and… fun. Everything around you was fun.

But… love? Could it be that he, Loki the God of Mischief, the fallen prince, the terrorizer of Earth, who once saw the mortals as mere insects… could hebe in love, with a human?

“Loki, what are you doing here?” a voice called for him, at your sight he felt something stir within him, “Please tell me you didn’t let Thor go on his own, if he tries to set the movie we may need a new controller… again.”

The comment made him laugh softly.

“If we hurry we might be in time to spare it” you urged as you began walking to the lounge room.

Loki was about to make an excuse to avoid you and shake the growing uncertainty off his head, but before he could say anything you had grabbed his hand to pull him to the room, and the feeling of your hand on his shut him up.

…Oh, oh.

Your hand was warm and soft, contrasting his generally chilly touch and it sent a thrilling chill through his body. He didn’t have the will to tell make an excuse to go alone, every cell in his body was begging to have you close.

There was just a single thought on his mind the rest of the night, not about the movie, not about his surroundings, not of revenge, just you. He had it bad.

Next part | Masterpost

[braemjeorn]

CHAPTER IV [masterlist]

pairing: bang chan x ofc

genre: general audience (I would say fluff but... there's nothing tooth-rotting here), bit of angst, regency period drama(?)

wordcount: 2.7k

summary: a circumstance allowed Mari to temper some of Minho’s stubborn carelessness.

warnings: regency era setting; countryside; rain; illness; sickfic; foods!; lots of discussions; children's temper and affections; also author being nonsensical again, she apologizes.

also available in ao3, if you prefer that format

© Do not repost, copy, or republish into another site or under another name.

⚠️ All characters that shares the name of real life person in this story are represented in a fictional manner for entertainment purpose, and not to be alluded with real life.

TAGLIST: @spookykryptoniteperson

The rain sings outside, Mari thought mirthlessly. It had started after dinner, but the droplets fell heavier as the night deepened. The cool breeze was relieving, but the following thunderclaps seemed eager to shake the house.

Jeongin was troubled on account of it. Mari was writing when her door opened. His face was sleepy yet disgruntled, and she saw it wince as another lightning struck. She pulled him to her lap, her hand covering his ear and tucking his head under her chin. There was another descent of rumbles, but Mari told him to shut his eyes, and rocked them both. Her whispers hummed into a song—something her aunt sang to her on days when rain soaked the grass. Long minutes passed, but with all the warm ministrations and the late hour, the youngest was easily persuaded to slumber. When sleep set in him, she returned him back to his bed, in the room he shared with Changbin and Minho.

Mari removed her writings to change but resisted the drowsiness. Minho had excused himself at dinner and had yet to return to his room. She brushed her hair while considering if she should wait for him here, or go downstairs and inquire after him from the servants. But there was a loud noise behind her—and Mari turned, finding her window swinging open and hitting the wall—then someone stepped in through it.

“Minho!” she gasped. Thunder rumbled after her words, and the boy looked up.

Mari was stunned still, while Minho stumbled to right himself on the floor, and shut the window. The candles gave little light, but enough to inform her of the water dripping from his soaked clothes and hair.

“How long were you outside?” she cried.

Minho's face was more sullen than Mari's ever seen, and she lowered her voice despite her worry. ”It was storming—!”

“Around the garden,” came the winced reply. He was wicking the water out of his face; Mari stood and walked to her wardrobe, searching a towel for him.

“How did you even climb up my window!?”

There was a shuffle, and when Mari turned the boy was walking out of her room.

“Minho?”

“I’m well,” said the boy.

Mari donned her night-robe, and followed him out into the hallway. “Dear, do dry yourself properly, you’re soaked to the skin!—are you hurt anywhere?”

Minho lifted his leg, attempting to unbuckle his shoes with one hand while steadying himself by the door frame of his room.

“I am well,” he muttered.

“Your shirt and coat—”

The foot was set down with a harsh stamp—the lad turned and snapped, “Stop fussing—you’re not my mother!”

The sharpness jerked her back. The loosened shoe fell heavily to the ground. Mari watched as Minho hobbled to release his other leg. Well aware of his rising temper in such a tousled state of fatigue, she tried more gently, “I’m worried.”

“And I’ll manage well on my own,” came the biting reply. The shoe came off, falling beside the other pair, and Minho opened the door to his room. He did not refuse the towel Mari offered as he entered.

“Put the wet clothes outside, I’ll bring them to the laundry girls,” she said.

Minho shut the door and Mari waited, listening to the muffled noise. It opened again for his hand to dump a heap of soaked clothes to the ground and shut again before Mari can say anything. But her own weariness made notice, and it was enough assurance that the boys are in places she was aware of.

There was a soft rap upon Mari’s door in the morning. It opened for a little peek, and seeing Jeongin's little face, she allowed him in. His eyes were alert, all dressed for the day in his blue shirt and his fox. He approached her by the dressing table, and asked, “Miss Son?—Will you come see Minho-hyung ? Hyunjin-hyung and Changbin-hyung think him ill, but he would not say so.”

“Indeed?” She hurried with the last section of hair, then took Jeongin’s hand as they returned to his room. “What do you think yourself, is he ill?”

“He must be so,” the boy said. “He shooed me away from approaching close, and to wake Changbin if I need help dressing.”

“Whoever heard of anyone getting ill in summer?” Hyunjin sighed as they entered the room. His tidy attire and bright countenance appeared to taunt Minho’s droopy, red eyes as he stood by the eldest’s bed.

“It is but a cold, Hyunnie,” came Minho’s groan, and he sniffed with exhaustion.

“And you were careless! Why must you even walk out in the rain at night!” Hyunjin admonished, though spoken while he helped the eldest with his covers.

“To return to the comforts of my bed.”

“Couldn’t you have suffered to sleep on hays for your good health!?”

Jisung was eyeing the eldest from the end of the bed as they bicker, perching his head upon the railing. “We must call the physician,” he declared to the room.

“It’s merely a cold, Sungie.” Minho groaned from his bed.

Jisung turned as Mari’s approached, and soon implored her, “We must call the physician, Miss Son!”

“No need, I’m all right—”

“Binnie-hyung, shouldn’t we call Mr Min?” cried Jisung when he caught sight of the second eldest.

Mari managed through the huddle, approaching nearer to Minho. “Do you want to see a physician?” she asked.

His eyes were rosy, and he winced them shut while diving deeper into the bed, “Please leave,” came his murmur.

“Hyung—”

“Bin, tell everyone to leave,” Minho groaned. Yet the second eldest joined in scolding him.

“Fool, don’t you want to get better?”

Minho grumbled. “Leave!” came his sharp bark, hitched as it was in his fatigue.

“Changbin, will you lead everyone downstairs to breakfast?” Mari asked. A look from her was enough; she was thankful when he nodded in compliance.

“Of course.” He took Jisung's hand, and ushered the rest out of the room.

Mari watched them with a chuckle, then turned to Minho, “Your brothers are quite the crowd, aren’t they?”

Minho stared at her, with a look that seemed to prefer her away as well. But he did not shirk away when her hand hovered above his brow.

“May I?”

He hummed, allowing her to feel his burning forehead.

“You will not have the physician?” she asked. Slowly he shook his head. Mari would not press and persuade him much—quite assured herself that his fever was manageable.

“Very well. Can you stomach a little food and water?”

Minho nodded.

“Will you wait until I bring the meal up before you sleep again?”

Minho nodded again, and turned to the wall as Mari left the room.

Mari informed Minatozaki-san of the young master’s state, then asked the cook if some light meal can be prepared for the invalid. What good fortune that he was dealing with chickens that day, and there were some good broth ready. Mr Choi heated them again with ginseng roots and garlic while Mari assured the housekeeper that Minho will do well enough with some repose. The lady was not quite contented—she berated the lad for his carelessness and was only satisfied when some medicinal herbal tea was included alongside the soup and the jug of water. Mr Kang helped Mari bring the tray upstairs, and left her to enter the room alone.

Minho was still reclined in bed, with a face more stricken than how she had left him. His sniffles were clear in the empty room, and he made weak efforts to subdue them and wipe the tears on his face when Mari entered. She placed the food beside his bed, on a chair. When it was all properly arranged, she turned to the boy.

“Are you in pain, anywhere?” she asked. Minho shook his head; he took some moment to curb his sniffles, then whispered, “I’m tired.”

Mari pulled down the thinner curtains, muting the brightness, but hopefully still allowing a breeze into the room. “I hope it wouldn’t be too warm to doze.”

She returned to Minho’s side, and gave him a handkerchief from the drawers.

“Can you sit up to eat?”

The boy nodded, and Mari arranged the pillows to support his back. Then she made sure the legs of the tray stood well over his legs before setting his meals.

“I brought samgyetang, doesn’t it look good? Mr Choi is making his broths today, and it’s all fresh and tender cuts. There’s a little rice to fill you up—but you eat as much as you can stomach, never mind the rest. Then—I brought medicine too, from Minatozaki-san, to drink after your meal. Do finish this tea; it will help cool your temperature much faster. There, now: chopsticks, or perhaps a spoon?”

Minho took the spoon, taking slow slurps of the warm broth, and then turned to his rice for a good mouthful of the warm and sweet stickiness.

“Does it taste bland? Or bitter?”

“No.”

Mari hums. “Then we can hope the fever is not affecting you terribly. Wait here.”

She rose and left the room, seeing that Minho was capable on his own. When she returned it was with a fan—a broad one, the largest of the many disposed in the drawing-room. She unfolded it, held it at an angle by his side, and attempted to drive some soft gust of wind towards Minho.

“It’s barely eight, and quite warm already,” Mari muttered. The boy eyed the object, and he scoffed with some humour. He was quite content to let her fan him, and his meal passed on with relative silence. The soup was finished, the rice not as much; the medicinal tea drunk, followed by the water. He took the offered fan, and asked if he might have some water to wash when Mari took away the dishes and trays.

“if you like, of course,” she said. “I’ll send Yeonji, or Mr Kang—I must excuse myself, I have your brothers to attend now.”

Minho nodded, and murmured, “Thank you, Miss Son.”

Nothing was left of his biting remark last night—it was sincere and plain. Yet Mari would not vouch for such gentleness existing beyond being the effect of his illness. But it was enough, and she smiled.

“If you ever need help Minho, you can always ask me. I’m here to help after all.”

Jisung was quick to ask Mari about the eldest’s constitution. She assured him that Minho was not dying, nor suffering, and was resting well; he might feel quite himself by the next morning. It appeased the lad, even if his humour was rather subdued through the day’s lesson. Yongbok was beside him through the day, as if attuned to his twin’s mood and settled to be his constant company.

Mari brought her embroideries to the terrace while her pupils scrambled about the garden. But one approached her, and she found Changbin breaking from the group and climbing up the terrace.

“Were you angry at Minho?” he asked. The large straw hat slid away from his head, and Mari chuckled as she beckoned him to sit by her.

“Indeed, no. Why should I be?”

Changbin rubbed his nose. “Well, he was somewhat rude this morning. Did he give you trouble, that you came down late?”

“No, I gave him breakfast and sat with him through it. Did I seem ill at humour, earlier?”

The boy considered the question, and replied, “No. But I wouldn’t have known the truth by merely looking at you. Yet.”

The governess smiled. “If Minho had given me some trouble, I would not have hesitated to scold him—though I may moderate my words in his current circumstances,” Mari said. “But he had said little, and when he did, I find the words most kind.”

Changbin hummed, but his eyes were still uncertain. “Minho isn’t always cross—well, he looks like he always is, but he is kinder than that.”

“Is he?”

“Well, he indulges us, sometimes. Jisung more than anyone—Yongbok and Jeongin always, since no one can refuse them.”

"And Seungmin?”

Changbin sighed—and Mari chuckled.

“The brat knows he’d get away with anything that comes out that clever mouth of his,” he pouted. “His pretty eyes helped—but then Miss Son, his manners and temper—isn’t he just the sweetest little angel at times?”

“Indeed, he is,” Mari said, fondly noting the plain partiality of the eldest three to the younger ones.

“But beyond them and the staff, that’s about it for Minho. Truth is, he never likes governesses in particular—abhorrence would be a fitting term. I was worried he’d claw you if he was left alone with you.”

Mari could not help her laugh, “What nonsense! Your brother is no such ill-natured cat.”

“He could be at times,” Changbin retorted.

“Did he say he disliked me?”

“I don’t even ask that anymore—I know that is his foremost sentiment whenever a new governess came.”

“And what might be the reason to it?"

There was a pause as Changbin fell into contemplation. “We’ve never had any; Mama is the one who taught him words, and numbers,” he replied. “And then we both went to school—and out of it. And then they came in, drab clothes and tight lips; one after the other, always worse than the last. Except for Mr Seo that is—the rest were both insufferable and intolerable in his opinion.”

"Therefore Minho believes that some of us are not worthy of teaching his younger brothers?"

"Yes. But some are truly inconsiderate. And their demands absurd."

“I see now,” Mari hummed. “If he had clawed me, as you said, I would be very disappointed that he wish me to leave in less than a week. What a wasted opportunity it will be to make a better acquaintance with you all.”

Changbin’s doubtful gaze showed that he was not the least charmed by her words of conclusion. Mari knew full well the sudden floridness of her words, compared to their previous discussions. She wouldn’t mind making a laugh of it. In such glee, she met his dubious gaze, and soon they broke into a laugh.

Figures were approaching from the garden, and the boys climbed up the stairs to join her on the terrace.

“Seungmin!” Mari called, reaching her hands out to the grinning lad. His hand was extended to her, and she found a red fruit between his fingers.

“Where did you get a strawberry?”

“Mr Park grew them,” he replied, pressing it towards her to bite.

“They’re ripe already?” Changbin asked.

“Well, you didn’t come to pick with us!”

“Is it good?” Yongbok asked, coming close to his younger brother and watching Mari bit into the fruit.

“Delightful,” Mari declared, much as she’s wincing from the sudden burst of juicy freshness in her mouth. The fruits were as large as Mari’s thumb, red and round, filling up two and a half baskets to fullness. Mari remarked that it must have been a gratifying harvest for the gardener with their size and taste. Mr Bernard Park merely smiled and said, “It is delightful for both us gardeners and the cooks—my wife has nothing to complain of this batch.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve had one,” Mari remarked to the boys. “There are no strawberry bushes around the school—they have to be bought from your village or farther west.”

“When was the last time you had any?” Changbin asked.

“Maybe two years ago?”

“Two years?!” Hyunjin cried out, his blond hair fluttering as his head turned to her in surprise. He gaped, then pushed the baskets closer to her, “Then you must have more!”

Mari smiled, “We must all have some, Hyunjin—for goodness, look how many there are in your baskets! But after lunch that is.”

A series of groans and huffs ensued, yet Mari’s pointed stare was undeterred. “Come now, I cannot let you deprive yourselves of some wholesome meal — and the strawberries might cool first—won’t it make them better?”

They relented to it, by and by, and the cool berries were then served with fresh cream. Mari brought up some for Minho, who had more appetite for it than his porridge. The delightful, cool treat appeased his humour on that warm afternoon.

(2nd round editing braem thinking about changbin’s recent long awaited vlive, and the leeknow and hyunjin section. because that’s absolutely the oldest three when hyunjin’s old enough to go into society, fooling around and cackling far too loud in their dad’s townhouse after parties and balls at three in the morning in their shirts and dressing gowns)

[jechristine]

While nwh was by no means a perfect film, it could have easily stood amongst this year's 10 nominees, many of which also have very clear issues. Nwh was very well received both commercially and critically and was dismissed based on its genre, not on its flaws. The issue though isn't really for marvel, even though there are people there that deserve this type of recognition as well.

The issue for me is that the Oscar's during the past 10+ years are consistently distancing themselves from commercial cinema and cinema beloved by the masses, and pander to the oscar-bait films. Not only are they making themselves more and more irrelevant, which won't be solved by any host, they are celebrating an elitist way of making art: catering to critics and professionals more than appealing to audiences. Some of the nominations announced today were pretty much locked in even before the film was screened. Some of the nominations are films with wide releases that no one was convinced to watch (and not limited release indies that would never be that available).

Nominating nwh would not have completely fixed such issues, but at least it would show that the industry can at least try to include even as a courteous addition films that mattered.

Thanks for sharing these thoughts!

I agree with you 100% that NWH was dismissed because of its genre--and my evidence is not that NWH was particularly deserving (although I don't mean disparage it too much as I do think there were several quite thoughtful and meaningful moments), but that many Oscar-nominated films and performances aren't particularly deserving either, at least as I see it, and so "deserving" is the wrong benchmark. I think you're saying this too!

You said this:

they are celebrating an elitist way of making art: catering to critics and professionals more than appealing to audiences

I think they are, yeah.

I do think there's a strategy there that has to do with the ongoing viability of the Oscars itself in a world more dominated by aggregate sites like Rotten Tomatoes. How will the Oscars justify its own continued existence when RT has already told us what the best movie is? They seem to be saying, "we exist to serve some other, supposedly more prestigious cultural function." It seems like that's the play the Oscars has committed itself to, and I think the strategy will appeal to some audiences, but probably smaller and smaller ones as time goes by. Snobbery does sell.

I read this following article a few weeks ago and found it pretty convincing. It's along the lines of what you're saying, @artsimpourtzi. But, again, I guess the geniuses behind Oscars weren't persuaded.

[9worldstales]

MCU Loki: Why I fear they failed to deliver what they promised

At this point I’m kind of confused by who the “Loki” series is trying to reach or which is the goal/message they’re trying to pass along.

They had tried to intrigue assorted audience but, if you ask me, the series has often failed to deliver what it seemed to promise.

Of course I might be wrong. Or maybe I'm not seeing another type of audience the series aimed and managed to reach.

When the series started I wanted to keep a positive mentality and hope whatever seemed not to work would be fixed along the way or have a reason for existing that I just wasn't seeing because I hadn't seen the full story yet.

However, after 5 episodes I'm starting to lose hope the series will make a genuine effort to reach the fans at whom it seemed to aim.

PART 1 – “LOKI” IS NOT FOR THE OLD FANS WHO PRODUCED META SHOWING HOW HIS TRAUMA DAMAGED HIM

"I think it's the struggle with identity, who you are, who you want to be. I'm really drawn to characters who are fighting for control. Certainly you see that with Loki over the first 10 years of movies, he's out of control at pivotal parts of his life, he was adopted and everything and that manifest itself through anger and spite towards his family." [Loki's Struggle With His Identity Confirmed To Be A Focus Of His Disney+ Series]

What was it about Loki as a character that attracted you? He’s just fun, for one. He has a very playful sense of humor about him. I like how he never quite lets you know what he’s thinking. Beyond that, what I connect to about him is the same thing the legions of fans do, which is his humanity and his vulnerability. This is a guy who—yes, on the one hand, he was the prince of Asgard, seems like a nice life—but his father, in fact, killed his actual birth father, adopted him, lied to him about his heritage and parentage his entire life, he was forced to live in the shadow of his oafish older brother who was born to be king. He’s experienced a lot of trauma, and I think that what he’s looking for is just a little bit of control over his life. Which he feels like maybe he’s never quite had. That’s something I think we can all relate with. [From Loki to Doctor Strange and Star Wars, Michael Waldron Is the New Franchise Whisperer]

Let’s be honest, the audience for the “Loki” series is not really meant to be Marvel movies old time fans who enjoyed “Thor” and “The Avengers”, made countless Meta analyzing Loki’s behaviour and who wanted answers about what happened to Loki prior to “The Avengers” or wanted to see Loki’s family terrible dynamics be discussed, or at least to see explored the wrong dynamics of Loki’s interracial adoption (he’s taken away from his planet, the truth is hidden from him, his look is changed to disguise him as an Asgardian, nothing is done against the racial hate for the Jotuns at which Loki is exposed, even witnessing it from his brother) or talk how much in control of himself Loki was during “The Avengers” (okay, the web said the sceptre manipulated Loki, but what about acknowledging that in his own series? It doesn’t have to come from Loki who had no idea he was manipulated but someone could mention ‘think yourself lucky here the stones don’t work, they’ve the nasty tendency to manipulate people’).

The series has avoided digging into all that as much as they could.

Even when Loki talks with Sylvie, the most we get is a small big about how Frigga was awesome in his eyes and taught him magic, but this isn’t meant to explain any of the issues Loki had with his family, it just make Sylvie feel bad because she can’t remember her adoptive mother, as for the D.B. Cooper born out of a bet with Thor, yeah, fun but completely random. What’s meant to be the message about family dynamics here, that it was the bets between Thor and Loki that caused Loki to decide to conquer Earth? Or what about the Sif loop? Is it there to push on Loki the blame of his poor relation with Sif?

No, clearly not.

In regard to Loki the Frigga flashback is there to remark he had a loving and supportive family while the other two are there to have Loki admit he is ‘a mischievous scamp’, ‘a horrible person’ and ‘a narcissist’.

To put it in Classic Loki’s words: ‘Damn it! Animals, animals! We lie and we cheat, we cut the throat of every person who trusts us, and for what? Power. Glorious power. Glorious purpose! We cannot change. We're broken, every version of us. Forever. And whenever one of us dares try to fix themselves, they're sent here to die.’

In short it’s all Loki’s fault if he does bad, nothing happened to him that could have messed him up, he’s just a horrible person… however…

PART 2 – “LOKI” IS NOT FOR THE OLD AND NEW FANS WHO BELIEVED LOKI TO BE A DANGEROUS, EVIL, PSYCHOPATH VILLAIN EITHER

"Loki is an a**, and that makes my life as a writer, easy." ... "Due to the trauma in Loki’s life, I would even [accept a story] in which he is committed to being all bad." [Michael Waldron on Loki: He’s an a**. That makes things easy]

Considering the series is trying to pin SOLELY on Loki his wrongdoing, completely skipping the toxic way in which he was raised you might think they want to paint him as an evil, psychopath who was just born bad.

But no, that’s not the intention, we see it from the start.

Loki is given a quick briefing on how his beloved family loved him despite him hurting them, a briefing that contains false information which would work if we accept the briefing as manipulative but, at this point I’m not so sure that was the author’s intent. The Doylist purpose of the briefing is clearly to show the audience how Loki cares for his family, how he still has feelings, feels pain at the idea Frigga and Odin died and wish to make up with his brother.

It’s not just they loved him and did nothing wrong toward him, it’s also he who loved them and didn’t mean to harm them. That’s why we’re fed that damn discourse about Loki sending the Dark Elves to kill Frigga, because the series wants to remark that no, Loki didn’t want to kill his family, he loved them.

Tom Hiddleston used to say what Loki is came from a place of pain but the series didn’t explore that place of pain… it just gave him more pain and not just in episode 1. Episode 2 has him discovering Asgard is destroyed, episode 3 has him remembering Frigga, episode 4 shows him believing Sylvie die and watching Mobius being pruned. He doesn’t cry in Ep 5, episode 5 wants us to truly feel bad for Sylvie, not for him, but there’s a lot of bitterness from Classic Loki who commits a heroic suicide so you might say we get a sad Loki anyway.

And this also works as a shock to make him change his mind about his ‘glorious purposes’. Sorta, with Thor reminding us he’s not so bad and Loki explaining his behaviour as “I don't enjoy hurting people. I... I don't enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to. Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”

Plot-wise, this is completely useless.

The show will prove Sylvie is not Loki and has completely different motivations and Mobius, being an expert in Variants, should know.

What’s more why would Mobius care if Loki enjoys hurting people or not?

His goal is to capture Sylvie with Loki’s help. The most he should care about is how to keep Loki loyal to him, not if Loki has fun hurting people or not which, in fact, is a knowledge that won’t be used in his investigation.

No, this is here for the viewers, to tell them Loki isn’t a sadistic, evil villain, he’s someone weak who tries to scare others so as not to look weak. As Mobius will put in ‘a scared little boy, shivering in the cold’ who has an ‘insecure need for validation’.

What’s more?

The show will try his hardest to establish he’s not even competent.

Let’s talk of him as a fighter.

In the movies Loki is a competent fighter and side material establish he’s pretty strong, definitely much more than a human.

In “The Avengers” we see Captain America needs Iron Man’s help to beat him and, anyway, Loki’s plan was to be captured. Loki manages to walk away on his feet when Coulson hits him with that superspecial weapon and it’ll take him to be Hulk smashed after a fight with Thor and a meeting with an explosive arrow of Hawkeye before he can’t fight any longer.

This doesn’t happen in the “Loki” series.

Loki gets beaten up by various people in 4 episodes, preferably women (B-15, the people possessed by Sylvie, the guards on the train, Sif). You might say in episode 5 he’s not but actually Classic Loki is the one who gets swallowed by Alioth and our Loki instead survives because he has Sylvie supporting him as, on his own he couldn’t even distract Alioth.

Let’s talk of him as a wizard.

He can use magic, impressive magic but… it serves him mostly nothing. In the TVA his magic doesn’t work. Outside of it is mostly useless. It doesn’t help win fights. The Tempad he caused to disappear gets broken. To beat Alioth they needs enchantment, not his own magic. What’s more, when they’ve to go on the train his disguise wouldn’t have worked without Sylvie’s enchantment and, if this wasn’t enough, he got drunk, removed the disguise and wasn’t even able to make tickets appear.

Classic Loki too, with his impressive illusions is ultimately a distraction. Alioth tears easily through his illusions which aren’t even solid.

Let’s talk of him as a planner.

All Loki will accomplish is to escape from the Time theatre for a brief period in episode 1 and figure out Sylvie hides in apocalypses in episode 2. The rest of his plans fails or are not plan or are mocked over and not even put into practice.

Let’s talk about him as a manipulator with a silver tongue.

He can’t even persuade Mobius when he’s telling him the truth, Mobius dismisses it as a lie due to ‘cockroach's survival mechanism’.

And psychologically?

He’s just someone who crave attention because he’s a narcissist scared of being alone. Not a psychopath.

Loki is not meant to be a dangerous, evil, psychopath villain in this series, he’s a not serious man, a clown, a scared little boy in need of attention, a narcissist who needs to be loved.

Welcome to cartoon villain Loki, this Loki isn’t the Variant of “The Avengers” Loki, he’s the Variant of “Avengers Assemble”Loki… only he’s even less competent than him.

PART 3 – “LOKI” IS NOT EVEN HERE FOR GENERAL MARVEL MOVIE FANS

"That's a lot of Infinity Stones. That's true but they are useless there in the TVA, so I don't know. Is that gun loaded or not? We'll see..." [Loki Writer Comments On Whether TVA’s Infinity Stones Will Return In MCU]

“We had to create an insane institutional knowledge of how time travel would work within the TVA so the audience never has to think about it again. It was a lot of drawings of squiggly timelines.” Marvel already made its case for how time travel works in Avengers: Endgame, but that, Waldron points out, “is the way the Avengers understand it.” With a TV show it’s a little different. “I was always very acutely aware of the fact that there’s a week between each of our episodes and these fans are going to do exactly what I would do, which is pick this apart. We wanted to create a time-travel logic that was so airtight it could sustain over six hours. There’s some time-travel sci-fi concepts here that I’m eager for my Rick and Morty colleagues to see.” [How the Man Behind LokiIs Shaping Marvel’s Phase 4 and Beyond]

BC: The TVA is there to clean everybody up? MW: Yeah, Avengers: Endgame… that's how The Avengers understand time travel. 'Loki,' episode one, is how the TVA explains time travel to Loki and we're certainly building on what's come before us. [Loki: Michael Waldron On Gender Fluidity, Mephisto, Time Travel & More]

It’s true “Loki” is focusing on a new corner of the MCU but it interconnects very poorly with the movies before it.

Although Loki escaped with the Tesseract... it just dismisses completely the Infinity Stones.

Despite talking a lot about timelines and creating branching realities it waved away the whole plot of "Avengers: Endgame" as apparently supposed to happen even though it should have created branching realities.

We see Renslayer wave away how the Avengers went in the past causing the Tesseract to end up in Loki’s hands... and all the other things the Avengers did that affected the past goes unmentioned.

Bruce meeting the Ancient, Thor meeting his mother and taking away Thor’s hammer, Rocket being seen as he steals the reality stone from Jane, Tony stealing a suitcase and damaging the place in which the Tesseract was kept then meeting Howard Stark, 4 flacons of Pyn particles missing, an alarm given to the military bases, how Steve managed to bring back the sceptre if that timeline was pruned, how a timeline handled being without Thanos and Co as they went in the future or how they clearly didn’t bring the orb back the second they took it as Nebula remained unconscious there and nobody came and when she woke up Thanos could get her. It didn’t even explain why Steve remaining with Peggy didn’t change anything.

It's not that the audience has all explained... it's that they were told to dismiss it as 'meant to happen' and that was it.

What's more, the TVA apparently didn't list a finger to stop 2014 Thanos from going in the future and causing Tony Stark's death.

As if this wasn't enough, “Loki” just skips any possible connection with the movies, even hands Loki false information about them (he lead the Dark Elves to his mother when Loki had no idea the Kurse was a Dark Elf and they would have found her anyway as they were searching for the Aether which Malekith could sense, he’s born solely to cause pain and suffering and death, overlooks how he saved Jane twice or helped the Asgardian escape Hela) and never discusses them again.

Even with Classic Loki, who’s a Variant of “Avengers: Infinity War” Loki, they don’t talk about what happened after Loki’s supposed dead, apparently hinting it was better if he died, nor explain how Loki knew Thor survived.

PART 4 – “LOKI” IS NOT REALLY OFFERING A GOOD REPRESENTATION FOR FEMALES EVEN THOUGH IT CLEARLY AIMS AT FEMALE AUDIENCE

Let’s make a quick experiment.

Everyone, let’s name all the characters we remember which appeared in more than 1 episode of “Loki” for more than one minute.

We’ve, of course, Loki, Mobius, B-15, Renslayer, Sylvie, C-20 and Miss Minute.

5 females versus 2 males.

What’s more, females are not sexualized, they remains completely dressed, they’re clearly not there to attract male gazes, they’re represented as strong, dangerous, in control, something archived often by showing them beating males either physically or intellectually or in rank.

It seems promising. At first.

Is there someone who’s sexualized?

The “Loki” series takes care to offer us Tom Hiddleston naked.

So since there’s an abundance of females in the cast and Tom Hiddleston is shown naked is it aiming at a female audience?

Very, very likely but… but how’s then handled all this?

When Loki is seen undressed he’s not in a situation of power, like Thor who’s twice shows half naked in his movies but because he’s changing/washing and perfectly comfortable in showing his body and once in a situation which could be a male forbidden fantasy, to have many women massage your naked body, no, he’s shown as he’s powerless while being stripped by a machine. Clearly not a male power fantasy, more like a male nightmare.

And, in a totally not surprising way, pictures of this scene were spread by many female fans because it was aimed at them… though a part of them, was also honestly appalled at seeing this scene in contest, finding the forced stripping humiliating and degrading.

Sure, a naked Tom Hiddleston makes a nice eye-candy but this wasn’t how Loki’s many fans wanted to see Loki naked.

But let’s talk of female representation here, since the show seems to be interested in female audience… only who even though this was the representation women wanted doesn’t understand much of women representation in the first place.

Why?

For start because women here are all the same type of woman.

Strong fighters who’re in control and confident, with no real characterization beyond this to speak of despite the large amount of screen time.

Renslayer is an ex-hunter who can fight one on one against Sylvie and who clearly has the position of power she has because she was good as a hunter and shows her abilities in fighting after that Sylvie had beaten 2 guards at the same time. B-15 is introduced by beating Loki and is the commander of a squad. C-20 is another commander and, albeit possessed, can dispose of a part of her squad members.

Do I need to spend words on how Sylvie is depicted as this awesome fighter who has learnt to fight by herself, can keep at bay more than 1 Minuteman, can use a sword, has learnt enchantment on her own and is feared by all the TVA? Do I?

And it’s awesome to have women who are strong fighters in positions of command/power/control… but why women has to be represented as just that?

Even when they add a female as an one episode cameo, it's Sif, beating the hell out of Loki. And what about the Lady in Lamentis 1 who was too old to be strong but managed to blast away both Loki and Sylvie seeing through their deceptions?

Even the harmless Miss Minute can avoid being hit by Loki and gets she has to pretend to do researches to stall Sylvie and save Renslayer.

Women kick asses here… but that’s all they’re good for.

And so we get to Sylvie, who is the superior Loki Variant… because she’s female.

Kid Loki: You're different. Why? Loki: No, I'm not, you see? I'm the same, really. I'm the same as all of you. Have any of you met a woman Variant of us? Classic Loki: Sounds terrifying. Loki: Oh, she is. But that's kind of what's great about her. She's different. She's not trying to take over the TVA, she's trying to take it down. And she needs me. Now, you said Alioth is what keeps us here. You said it's a living thing. You said it's a shark. Well, if it lives, it dies. So I'm gonna kill the shark. I'm gonna kill Alioth, and I could use all the help I can get.

That’s what Loki preaches to his fellow Lokis who think a woman Loki would be terrific.

I mean, they’ve an alligator Loki, a POC Loki, but the one who has to be different is the female Loki. Because being female is a character trait.

Mobius: Okay. I feel like I'm always looking up to you. I like it. It's appropriate. [Ep 1]

Basically females in the “Loki” series are all representation of the Action girl trope and aren’t even different representation of said trope. I mean, “The Avengers” have 5 actions boy who’re clearly as different as they could be. Girls can be represented as different too, if they really aim at young audience they can take good old “Sailor Moon” as an example. 5 action girls who are strong and determinate AND DIFFERENT, more than just someone who kicks the adversary away.

And it’s not like they don’t know how to characterize people in a different way.

Mobius is an analyst who shows sympathetic traits toward the Variants and a certain level or intelligence. U-92 and D-90 are hunters who are shown to held Variants in little regard (U-92 wanted to attack the boy they found in the church, D-90 mistreated the scared people in the shelter). Casey is an harmless and naïve guy who had never seen a fish. The guy who made Loki sign the papers about what he said seemed emotionless but he clearly loved cats as not only he had one but on his cup there was also the image of a cat. Martin is clearly a bossy daddy’s son, who think too high of himself to the point he can’t respect rules. The boy in the church, despite thinking Sylvie was a demon, accepted and ate food she gave him and remained in the place despite the crime. He’s clearly more brave than he looked like but he’s also naïve as he easily trusted ‘the demon’ and Mobius.

What’s C-20 character trait when she gets described by Sylvie?

Sylvie: Yeah. She was just a regular person on Earth. Loki: A regular person? Sylvie: Loved margaritas.

She’s a regular person who loves margaritas. Liking a drink is not a character trait!

There’s a more diverse female representation in “Thor” than in “Loki”.

In “Thor” we’ve Frigga, queen of Asgard, loving mother and wife who’s powerless to erase Thor’s banishment. We’ve Sif, a dangerous and loyal warrior. We’ve Jane, the amazing scientist with a lot of enthusiasm. We’ve Darcy, who’s funny and who seems focused mostly on herself but who, when the city is attacked, worried to save all the animals at the pet store.

But maybe the one who gets the worst treatment is the supposed heroine, Sylvie, because the poor girl is turned into a Mary Sue.

In case someone isn’t familiar with the term:

“The prototypical Mary Sue is an original female character in a fanfic who obviously serves as an idealized version of the author mainly for the purpose of Wish Fulfillment. She's exotically beautiful, often having an unusual hair or eye colour, and has a similarly cool and exotic name. She's exceptionally talented in an implausibly wide variety of areas, and may possess skills that are rare or nonexistent in the canon setting. She also lacks any realistic, or at least story-relevant, character flaws — either that or her "flaws" are obviously meant to be endearing. She has an unusual and dramatic Back Story. The canon protagonists are all overwhelmed with admiration for her beauty, wit, courage and other virtues, and are quick to adopt her as one of their True Companions, even characters who are usually antisocial and untrusting; if any character doesn't love her, that character gets an extremely unsympathetic portrayal. She has some sort of especially close relationship to the author's favourite canon character — their love interest, illegitimate child, never-before-mentioned sister, etc. Other than that, the canon characters are quickly reduced to awestruck cheerleaders, watching from the sidelines as Mary Sue outstrips them in their areas of expertise and solves problems that have stymied them for the entire series.” [tvtropes.org]

So let’s see how she fits this checklist:

1) She's exotically beautiful, often having an unusual hair or eye colour: Sylvie painted her hair blonde even though the Lokis are supposed to be black haired

2) has a similarly cool and exotic name: She is the only Loki Variant who has changed her name from Loki to Sylvie.

3) She's exceptionally talented in an implausibly wide variety of areas, and may possess skills that are rare or nonexistent in the canon setting: Awesome at fighting she can enchant people, an ability the Lokis don’t posses, that she magically learnt on her own and that is necessary in the story. Also she figured out how a Tempad worked BEFOREseeing it in action.

4) She also lacks any realistic, or at least story-relevant, character flaws — either that or her "flaws" are obviously meant to be endearing: No flaws, all her plans involve fighting and brute force is no substitute for diplomacy and guile, which could be a flaw… if it wasn’t for the fact that the series will prove Sylvie can plan just fine without using fighting and brute strength and also be successful at it.

5) She has an unusual and dramatic Back Story: She was taken by the TVA when she was younger than Kid Loki but managed to escape them and had to live alone and on the run till then.

6) The canon protagonists are all overwhelmed with admiration for her beauty, wit, courage and other virtues, and are quick to adopt her as one of their True Companions, even characters who are usually antisocial and untrusting: Loki, who has never loved anyone, falls for her, Mobius saves her and apologizes to her, B-15, who used to look down at Variants, basically asks her what should they do and is shown admiring her, the Lokis don’t criticize her plan, Classic Loki dies to save her, everyone views her as the superior Loki Variant.

7) if any character doesn't love her, that character gets an extremely unsympathetic portrayal: Renslayer, the hunter who has arrested her, is currently playing the part of the antagonist who’s fascist and believes in a murderous, lying cult.

8) She has some sort of especially close relationship to the author's favourite canon character — their love interest, illegitimate child, never-before-mentioned sister, etc.: She’s the Variant and love interest of the titular character.

9) Other than that, the canon characters are quickly reduced to awestruck cheerleaders, watching from the sidelines as Mary Sue outstrips them in their areas of expertise and solves problems that have stymied them for the entire series: Loki, the title character, has conveniently been turned into someone who’s a weak fighter and incapable of planning which Sylvie has to save by enchanting guards or giving him her sword or pruning herself or teaching him how to enchant and coming up with all the plans.

Now all she needs in order to be a perfect Mary Sue is to know how to sing well as Mary Sue usually do this as well, though I’m sure she can do it because Loki could so she surely can.

Sylvie is amazing, Loki himself said so:

Loki: No. We may lose. Sometimes painfully. But we don't die. We survive. I mean, you did. You were just a child when the TVA took you, but you nearly took down the organization that claims to govern the order of time. You did it on your own. You ran rings around them. You're amazing!

There’s nothing inherently wrong in having a new female character who’s competent, for whom the hero falls and who changes him… if all this is built around a solid plot.

Think at “Iron Man”.

Tony Stark is, to quote Tony Stark himself a “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”.

It’s amazing, isn’t it? But the movie shows us why he’s that.

It spends time setting up his pedigree, how he inherited the money and intelligence from his father, how he was supported as he grew and studied becoming always a greater genius. Tony shows himself to be charming before seducing his first woman onscreen so that when he does it makes sense. His philanthropic activities are, at first, just mentioned but seems rooted in how his father was a hero who helped fighting Nazi and then they became his mission. He felt guilty he was a merchant of death and tried to make up for it.

Sylvie too could have a solid plot behind herself.

Instead than magically knowing what a TemPad does and how it works and managing to escape with it, she could have escaped with, let’s say, a hunter that discovered the truth and decided to rebel to the TVA or just had pity of her. Maybe another Mobius Variant who used to work at the TVA prior to Mobius and that, instead than an analyst was a hunter. She might have learnt fighting from him and then he too died and she was left alone.

Enchantment might have been an ability she might have learnt coming in contact with a mind stone. It could have been an occasion also to talk how mind stones can influence people negatively. Or it could have been taught to her by Frigga who, with a female daughter, decided to teach her a different type of magic than Loki.

Her past could have been explored more instead than being tragic for the sake of tragic. We might have seen her fall in love and either be betrayed or have to say goodbye to her loved one because that reality got pruned. We might have seen her being interested in males and females alike as she’s supposed to be interested in both.

She could have had discussions with Loki that weren’t just about Frigga or about how the TVA kidnapped her from Asgard, she escaped and from that point on she was always on the run, or about how love didn’t feel real, but more about how they were, how they felt, what hurt them and what made them happy, what they liked and what they disliked, their ideals and their fears, things that can built up a relation.

Loki basically fall for her because she’s on a mission for revenge instead than power and seems confident. That’s his reasoning.

She falls for Loki… because apparently he’s the person who spend time with her who praised her. That’s not a solid love story, that’s desperation.

SYlvie could have flaws, she could have learnt diplomacy or persuasion from Loki or could have something she lacks and Loki has so that they would complete each other.

And since the purpose was to have Sylvie and Loki fall for each other… they could have let Loki have characteristics that can motivate the exceptional heroine to fall in love for him PRIOR to him falling in love for her. He might be shown good at something, instead than just a clown.

Even if we say the real purpose of this series was to turn Sylvie into the protagonist, the heroine, a good Loki character was still needed to explain why this awesome girl would fall for him.

So okay, there will surely still be women who can see themselves in Sylvie and imagine they got Loki… and it’s not bad really… but I think we deserved more.

Long story short, yes, “Loki” has many females in its cast and this is meant to draw the female audience… but the representation is poor as almost all of the females have no character traits and Sylvie is just a Mary Sue with no realistic characterization.

A good female representation is diverse and solid. Women don't need to be born irrealistically perfect out of nothing to be good, they can inherith and grow and learn to be as such like any human being.

Last but not least…

PART 5 – DOES “LOKI” REALLY OFFERS REPRESENTATION TO THE LGBT COMMUNITY?

BC: There is a lot of talk on social media about Loki being gender fluid. Wouldn't that actually be a natural fit for the character? MW: Yeah, I guess as, with all questions pertaining to that stuff, I think those answers, truly, are best experienced in the watching of the show, as opposed to me trying to answer them. Because it's just watching it and the way that's addressed and everything will just be more fulfilling. BC: Why do you think it's important that Loki is gender fluid? MW: I think that Loki is a character that a lot of fans see representation in. People that haven't felt represented before, and they see themselves in Loki and everything. So we want to do justice to the character, to who the character is in the comics and in Norse mythology as well. And you also … you know you want folks to feel represented, and everything. That's why it's important. It always has been. It comes from everybody on the creative team. [Loki: Michael Waldron On Gender Fluidity, Mephisto, Time Travel & More]

The series hugely spread the info that this Loki would be fluid and Bisexual. The news were welcomed with delight and it’s awesome how the series didn’t hesitate to put it on paper.

Loki being fluid was written for everyone to see, and Loki having male and female interests was spelled out for everyone to hear.

IT’S A GREAT THING!

However…

It’s all we got.

It had no relevance into the plot whatsoever, it’s just a random info we’re given.

Him being fluid was on a paper along with his other data like eye colour and birth planet.

Him being interested in males and females seems to be put there just to imply he tried a large amount of people before deciding love didn’t feel real.

Assuming the other Lokis too were fluid, they actually found terrific the idea of a woman Loki in a not positive way. They weren’t interested or asking for clarifications about what Loki meant.

Loki’s bisexuality doesn’t even get a side story, them sending Fandral to beat Loki instead than Sif because Loki cheated on him or something. I’m not upset Loki ended up with a female, this is one of the possibilities of a Bisexual person. I’m upset that this was used merely to attract the audience but then wasn’t explored. They could have said Asgard was open minded with it, or disapproved it so Loki had to keep it hidden, or it could have been Sylvie who discussed some experience in that regard.

We were told over and over it was a show about identity. We expected it to be explored instead we were just told ‘ah, by the way, Loki is bisexual, let’s move on.’ And that was all.

Having representation from an important Marvel character is always important, especially considering the shortage of representation. But honestly I expected more.

PART 7 – TO SUM IT UP

Many of the people who worked in “Loki” are fantastic actors. They worked hard for this series, I can see they tried their best.

The premises for the “Loki” series are interesting.

We get a Loki who hadn’t experienced most of what happened in the movies yet, we make him confront with someone who knows his life, the one he lived and the one he was meant to live and we also make him confront with Variations of himself.

Loki has the Tesseract and the TVA has plenty of infinity stones, we could explore them.

The TVA itself have a fascist organization that dictates people’s lives and murders whoever tries to do differently, that goes so far as to brainwash the people working in it, which mistreats and belittle the Variants and establish a manipulative cult around the Time-Keeper with elements of police brutality which could be very actual.

Time travelling was the plot of "Avengers: Endgame" they could have tied the movie to the series, esplore the why some time travels were allowed and some weren't or their effects.

There were references to plenty of awesome comics they could take inspiration from.

But unless it redeems itself with the last episode… well, so far it’s failing to deliver what it promised due to a really poor plot which doesn’t give the characters a chance to be themselves or to be characterized as they’ve no real story nor real differences to speak of.

They’re given more time than a movie as they’re a series… but that’s no good excuse for wasting said time.

I’m still hoping the last episode will be spectacular, that it’ll manage to erase the messes of the other 5… but, as of now I’m disappointed.

I’ll just keep my fingers crossed and hope they’ll surprise me.

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

Clenched Fists and Heavy Hearts

Square: N2, Self-Harm

@badthingshappenbingo

Teen And Up Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply / Gen / 4.4k

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Relationship: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: POV Tim Drake, Self-Harm, non-graphic, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

---

Tim’s life ends with eight simple words: “We’re going to have to call Mr. Wayne.”

Through the windows of the principal’s office, midday sunlight shines and washes the other occupants of the room—the principal, Mrs. Weaver, her secretary, Miss Anderson, and the nurse, Nurse Reynolds—aglow. They stand shoulder to shoulder, a united front across from him.

Tim should be here receiving an award for his outstanding smarts. They should be chastising him for missing so many days and having so many tardies. He shouldn’t have come into school today at all.

None of those are the case today.

He’s sitting up straight in the stiff chair and he’s never felt more like he’s about to be executed than in this moment. His fists are clenched in his lap. He’s had so many targets on his head that it’s not even funny, but this is easily the worst one.

“A-are you sure?” He stammers, before immediately reeling himself in.

He can’t be emotional right now—that’ll only make things so much worse. Clenching his fists harder, he purposefully makes himself sit back in the chair. A familiar mask of calm disinterest settles on his face, and he turns to the secretary, who he knows from experience will be the easiest to crack.

“Miss Anderson, please, I really don’t think that’s necessary.” He makes himself sound contrite, like he’s just some stupid rich kid who thought he could flout the rules. “I understand I shouldn’t have been skateboarding in the halls and I promise not to do it again. If you’d like, you can even keep my board in here—I’ll come to retrieve it at the end of the day.”

She exhales softly, and glances to Mrs. Weaver. “Tim…,” she says, her voice achingly gentle. There’s concern in her eyes and he hates it, he hates it, but he doesn’t let his expression doesn’t change. A crack in his mask is the difference between life or death; his ability to hold onto a certain kind of smile, whatever befits the situation, has gotten him farther than this with hardened criminals.

And even if he doesn’t consider those situations—since they happen to Robin (or Red Robin, now), not Tim—he doesn’t have to look any further than all of the annoying galas and parties he’s had to attend in his life. His parents made it clear when he was very young that his best weapons are his reputation and his behavior, and they’ve been proven right again and again. Having good manners has gotten him out of tons of binds, shifting suspicion off of him, veiling his true feelings easily.

Now if only it can work this time, too.

“Mr. Drake,” Mrs. Weaver interrupts. The set of her mouth is very serious, her laugh lines completely smoothed out. Tim’s heart is pounding in his chest like he’s being chased by Harley’s rabid dogs. “If this was only because you were skateboarding in the hall, then…” she inhales, a bracing-oneself kind of breath if he’s ever seen one. “Then, we would consider that course of action. But you are well aware it’s no longer just about that.”

“Isn’t it?” He asks, going full on Brucie with his faint, undeniably vacant tone.

Nurse Reynolds shakes his head, giving a pointed look at Tim. He doesn’t have to say anything to get his point across, they all know why they’re there, but Tim is unwilling to let go of his mask for anything.

“I only tripped,” Tim says with a shrug. “I’m fine.”

“You hit another student,” Nurse Reynolds reminds him.

“Dante’s fine, too. He didn’t even need any band-aids, you said so yourself, Nurse.” At that, he stands, as smoothly as he can manage. If he just keeps his back straight and his face neutral, they’ll be persuaded, he tells himself. The air is thick with unspoken tension and it’s suffocating him. “Can I go back to class now?”

“No, Mr. Drake, you may not,” Mrs. Weaver chastises, standing herself. “Sit down. Miss Anderson, will you please call Mr. Wayne? Ask him to come by but don’t give any sensitive information over the phone. We’ll need to discuss this with him in person.”

Please don’t, Tim thinks desperately. But he doesn’t say it. “I’m eighteen,” he tries instead. “Surely I’m old enough that we don’t need to get him involved.”

The principal shakes her head just once, though her ‘this matter is put to rest’ face is so much less intimidating than Alfred’s. “Now, please, Natalie.”

He doesn’t even get the chance to warn her to let Bruce know he’s not, like, imminently dying before Miss Anderson nods and escapes the room. He stares at the shut door for a beat too long, wishing he could follow her out. And then run away from Gotham for good measure. He’ll have to go somewhere not even the Supers can reach him—Talia would probably take him in, if he plays his cards right. Maybe she won’t even tell Bruce.

“Mr. Drake, you understand that this is policy,” Mrs. Weaver says, interrupting his spiraling escape plans. Her voice wavers impossibly between firm and uncertain. It must be scary having to inform Bruce Wayne, a main benefactor of the school, that his son is—well. What they’re accusing him of. “We must tell the parent or guardian when we have this kind of concern for a student.”

Tim’s eye twitches. He politely tells her, “It’s a baseless concern.”

Mrs. Weaver’s frown deepens. “Mr. Drake.”

“What? It is!” As soon as he says it, he regrets it—he isn’t supposed to show when things upset him. He’s been better about following that rule lately. No one has noticed anything wrong, exactly as Tim wants it. He’s fine. He tucks his hands into his pockets, knuckles creaking from how tightly he’s holding his fists.

Nurse Reynolds opens his mouth, probably about to refute that or say something awful like ‘Tim, we’re worried about you’, but Tim absolutely cannot handle hearing it right now. Though it’s rude, he interrupts, “If it’s all the same to you both, I’d like to wait until Bruce is here to discuss further.”

They share a hesitant look. Tim swears if they make him talk, he will abuse the Wayne name to get himself the hell out of here, Bruce or no Bruce. He’s good at wiggling his way out of things with pretty, petty words.

“…Alright,” Mrs. Weaver gives in. “We can’t let you return to class until this is resolved. Would you rather stay here or out there with Miss Anderson?”

He’s perfectly polite, waiting until she’s done speaking before he answers, though he knew his answer as soon as she began to ask. “I’ll sit in the main office.”

She doesn’t smile. He doesn’t care, can’t care right now, and says a perfunctory goodbye. He leaves before either adult can say anything else.

He nods to Miss Anderson and the other secretaries before finding a seat, safely distanced from the door but still close enough he’ll be able to make a run for it if needed.

“Your… ah, Mr. Wayne is on his way,” Miss Anderson says from her desk.

Fuck. He keeps his genial smile on, pretending that his gut isn’t churning in fear. He can’t think of a worse place or time to throw up but if he acknowledges his anxiety, he knows it will happen. “Thank you.”

What follows is forty minutes of miserable waiting. The WE building is halfway across the city, not to mention the traffic. Tim hopes Bruce isn’t worrying himself but more than that, he hopes Bruce won’t… won’t… he doesn’t even know what. He can think of dozens of ways Bruce could react to this, and none of them are good. His clenched fists are the only physical expression of his anxiety that he allows himself.

Everyone in the office, even just people passing through, give him looks—not the normal, ‘oh shit it’s Tim Drake-Wayne��� stares, but ‘obviously something is going on and I’m going to spread rumors about it’ curious ones. Still, even with how uncomfortable they make him, he doesn’t regret sitting out here. At least no one is trying to talk to him.

He doesn’t scroll through his phone, unable to stomach whatever memes his friends and siblings have likely sent him by now.

Looking out of the window, he wishes he’d ignored Alfred knocking on his door this morning. At his age, with the kinds of responsibilities he has, the fact that he attends school at all is more of a favor to Alfred than it is anything else. It’s certainly not because he wants to be here.

But when Alfred told him he needed to finish the year, and Bruce concurred, and Duke was all happy about having an inside connection to the seniors, Tim hadn’t said no. His plans to get a GED on the side of having an actual job were put down for good, and he resigned himself to one more year. He could do it for them—he will do it for them. Even if the events of today are enough to make him regret that choice, he will.

If Bruce will even let him, after this meeting.

Tim can’t decide which response he’s hoping for.

Some small, silly part of himself is desperate for Bruce to—to believe him, to take his side. To tell the principal and the nurse they’re both looking too much into things. Tim is fine. Tim is so fine, he can go back to class and finish up the day and then finish up the year and never have to worry about this ever again.

An even bigger part—one that remembers his childhood and his parents griping to each other about how positively uncouth Dick Grayson and Jason Todd were, running around charity events laughing at their own jokes and rolling their eyes at Bruce—is terrified that Bruce won’t understand. He’ll agree with Mrs. Weaver and Nurse Reynolds. He’ll tell Alfred and Dick out of concern, and then everyone will know, even Damian, and they’ll—they’ll—

He lets out an inaudible sigh, cutting off his own thought process, desperate for all of this to be over already.

The door to the office suddenly swings open, perfect timing. Bruce steps in, dressed in one of his nice work suits, his eyes immediately scanning the room for Tim. As soon as they land on him, he settles a bit, obviously relieved to see he’s not grievously injured. Or injured at all, really. He only tripped.

Tim stands as Bruce sweeps over to him, one hand coming up to land on Tim’s shoulder. He tilts his head back, giving him a quick once-over. When he doesn’t see anything wrong, he asks, “She said you had an accident?”

“I’m fine, really,” Tim says. He stamps down viciously on the war going on in his head—however Bruce reacts, he’ll just have to deal with it. No use worrying himself sick in the meantime.

Easier said than done.

Bruce narrows his eyes the slightest bit, disbelieving, but he doesn’t question Tim out loud. “She also said I’d need to have a talk with the principal.”

Tim swallows and nods. He can’t get any words out.

Not letting go of Tim’s shoulder, he guides them over to Miss Anderson’s desk. She’s familiar with them from previous visits, and let’s them know they can go right on in. Her eyes have that—that pity back. Tim turns his head to look away from her, a falsely natural move that still manages to catch Bruce’s attention. Damn it.

“Mr. Wayne,” Mrs. Weaver greets, the weight on her words only further tipping Bruce off. “Thank you for coming in. Please, both of you can have a seat here in front of my desk.”

They sit in separate chairs, but Bruce rests his hand on the back of Tim’s chair, not quite touching him. Even just his arm feels protective, just as much as when he’s got on his suit and lets Tim hide under his cape. Bruce asks, “Can you tell me what’s going on? Miss Anderson didn’t exactly give any details.”

She nods, crossing around to sit behind her desk. “First, let me introduce you—Mr. Wayne, this is our school’s main nurse, Nurse Reynolds. Nurse, this is Bruce Wayne.”

They share brief pleasantries that Tim can hardly pay any attention to. The panic from earlier comes back with a vengeance as he realizes she’s really going to do it, she’s really going to tell Bruce. He squeezes his hands in his lap, hoping he appears like he’s listening even a little bit.

“Tim said he had an accident,” Bruce offers, clearly ready to get to the point of this visit.

“Yes, he did. Mr. Drake was riding his skateboard in the halls this morning and bumped into another student, causing them both to fall to the ground. Neither seemed seriously injured, but Nurse Reynolds checked them over just to make sure.” She glances beside her. “When he was checking over Tim, he noticed some concerning marks on his palms, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce frowns. He’s probably thinking that this isn’t the usual ‘where on earth are your children getting all these bruises from, Mr. Wayne?’ situation where they have to excuse crime fighting injuries. Sitting up straighter, he asks, “…What kind of concerning marks do you mean?”

Tim closes his eyes. His fists are clenched so tightly his palms are stinging. This is really happening. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“He has open wounds from his fingernails piercing the skin. Scars, as well.” Then, like Tim isn’t even in the room, Nurse Reynolds says straightforwardly, “Tim refused to explain where they came from or how long it has been going on. To be frank, Mr. Wayne, we believe they may be a sign of self-harm.”

-------

They make him go sit back in the main office while Mrs. Weaver and Nurse Reynolds tell Bruce just how serious this is. He knows they’ll be giving him recommendations on what to do based on experiences with previous students, knows they’ll tell Bruce not to pretend it isn’t happening since it so clearly is. He can practically hear Mrs. Weaver impart that this is something that cannot be swept under the rug or ignored.

Tim bites the inside of his cheek, caught between shame and offense. This is ridiculous. He’s not self-harming—he thinks he would know if he was cutting himself or acting more reckless than usual in the field.

He’s not depressed, either. None of his friends have died or been seriously injured in a long time. Things at home are fine. School is annoying but he deals with it on the days he bothers to go. No rogues have caused particularly awful damage recently.

There’s nothing going on in his life to be upset about, and even if there was, he’s not self-harming. He’s fine. He is.

But if Bruce doesn’t think so… it can go so many ways. Maybe he’ll ground Tim for a time, and let him back once Tim’s palms have healed. Maybe he’ll make Tim see Leslie, or worse, a therapist. Or maybe it’ll be worse—maybe he’ll force Tim to stop fighting crime entirely; it wouldn’t be the first time he tried that with one of his Robins.

No matter what he does, though, Tim is sure he’ll tell Alfred. And if Bruce believes Tim is hurting himself, Alfred will too.

One of the very last things he wants is to put any more of a burden on his pseudo-grandfather, but that’s exactly what this will be: a burden. Another thing to worry about. Even if—when—Tim moves away, it’ll be in the back of his mind.

Tim’s cheek stings between his teeth, the slight taste of rust seeping into his mouth, but he doesn’t let go.

He’s going to have to stop clenching his fists. That much is obvious. The very thought is enough to send anxiety zipping through him.

Ever since he was a child, it’s been one of few, if not the only, ways he could express his feelings. Great shows of emotion, especially in public, are uncouth. They’re embarrassing. They make one seem sloppy and uneducated. Tim was raised by two people who’d grown up in the circles of Gotham’s elite, who’d known how to show their emotions—whether they were real or not—politely, appropriately. Quietly.

Working with Batman is much the same. If Rogues know they’ve struck a nerve, they’ll pounce. If mobsters know their shot landed, they’ll run around bragging about knocking down a Bat. Civilians shouldn’t be able to capture anything from them at all. Anonymity is paramount and if someone notices Red Robin and Tim Drake have the same cocky smile, then it could all be over.

In his experience, no one looks at the hands unless weapons are involved. They watch the face, the eyes, the jaw. They notice shoulders stiffening, foot stance widening. The only time they care about if someone’s hands are curled into fists is if said fist is flying towards them.

It was safe. It was his constant outlet. When something upset him or things felt out of control, he could ball up his fists. The sting of it helps him focus, keeps him in the moment.

But now the principal and the nurse have ruined that for him, and Bruce is going to do something about this, he won’t just let it go.

It’s a miserable fifteen minute wait. Miss Anderson keeps shooting him worried looks but he ignores her and everyone else that comes in or out of the office. When Bruce comes out, he stands.

“Can I go back to class?” Anything to put off the inevitable.

Bruce is frowning one of his dad frowns, the ones he turns on them when they’re injured on shift. They make Jason and Damian (and Tim, sometimes) uncomfortable and shy. Dick, Cass, and Duke perk up when he turns it on them, lighthouses for Bruce’s paternal woes.

“You have the rest of the week off,” he says. “I thought it would be best.”

Tim can’t think of anything to say to that. He doesn’t bother.

Things have already gone to hell, so he doesn’t say goodbye to Miss Anderson on his way out of the building. Bruce follows behind him, probably trying not to crowd him but failing miserably. He doesn’t say anything in the parking lot, not even when Tim wordlessly rushes to get in. Everything feels unsteady and he needs the solitude and closed in space of whatever fancy car Bruce’s driving today.

Bruce enters sedately, tossing a packet of papers carefully into the back seat. He grabs his seatbelt and waits to click it until Tim’s clicked his first.

They still don’t speak, not until Bruce has pulled out of the lot and they’re three blocks away from the school. “Tim,” he says heavily.

“I’m not,” he bursts out. They aren’t home or in the Cave, they’re practically still in public, but he can’t keep it in anymore. That desperate voice in the back of his mind is pleading for Bruce to understand. “They’re wrong. I’m not—it’s not—”

“Take a breath,” Bruce interrupts, firm. “Exhale slowly.”

Tim tries. His eyes are burning. Shame sits hot and heavy in his chest. What the hell is he doing, crying? He’s been through worse things. There’s nothing to cry about.

Bruce has to guide him through several deep breaths before any kind of conversation can happen. And when it finally does, it’s not at all what he’s expecting.

“Do you want ice cream?”

“What?” Tim chokes out.

“I think we should get some ice cream. Come on, I know a place.” He turns them down a street that will take them back towards the nice shopping center, not looking over at Tim. Giving him a moment of privacy and a distraction before they’ll have to have a serious talk.

Tim pouts, knowing exactly what he’s doing. But damn if it doesn’t work. Indignantly, Tim says, “I know all the same places as you.”

Bruce doesn’t reply except to pull into Tim’s favorite ice cream shop. They go through the drive-thru, and Bruce orders for them both, getting Tim a mint chocolate chip milkshake without having to ask. He replies good naturedly to the employees, slipping on his Brucie persona like nothing is wrong. Thankfully, they don’t linger there long.

With no cupholders around (stupid fancy cars), Tim has to hold both of their milkshakes as Bruce drives them… wherever it is he’s taking them. Tim doesn’t ask, just stares out the window and lets the cold condensation relieve the pain in his palms.

The drive is longer than Tim expects, quiet except for low level music playing from the stereo. Every once in a while, Bruce hums to himself, though Tim isn’t sure if he’s thinking or if it’s in reaction to the other cars on the road. Some of his anxiety eases with the calm atmosphere, though most of it can’t be soothed. He can’t decide if this ride and the ice cream and the not-yelling is meant to be a last hurrah before things are irreparably changed or not.

They cross the bridge all without speaking, and end up parking in one of the lesser used parks in Bristol. It used to be a lovers' lane, but nowadays it’s far more useful as a stargazing spot. Bruce shifts into park and holds out his hand for his shake, boring strawberry.

He needs to get ahead of this. Inhaling, he starts, “Bruce—”

But Bruce shakes his head. “Let’s eat first. Then we can talk.”

“But….” He sighs. “Fine.”

Too anxious to enjoy his ice cream, he mostly spoons at it, letting it get soupy and only taking a few bites. He has to stave off the urge to grab the papers from behind them.

Bruce notices. Of course he does. He finishes his shake and throws the trash in the little bag Alfred insists on every car having before finally, finally turning to face Tim. “I’ve made you wait long enough.”

Tim doesn’t reply. He doesn’t think an agreement is the best way to begin this conversation.

Hesitantly, Bruce asks, “Can I see your hands, Tim?”

“I’m not s-self-harming,” Tim immediately says, trying not to immaturely snatch his hands in close like Bruce might force him to show them.

“I didn’t say you were, bud.” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “I just want to see how bad these cuts are.”

He bites down on the retort that flies to his tongue. He’s sure that back talking will only make this go worse. Reluctantly, he holds his hands out, palms up. Each one has a line of four open, crescent shaped wounds. They aren’t very deep, already healing over, but they still don’t make a pretty picture.

“Were they treated?” Bruce asks neutrally.

“The nurse gave me antiseptic.”

Bruce hums. Gently, he takes Tim’s hands in his own, but not to get a closer look like Tim expected. Instead, he softly curls Tim’s fingers forward until he’s making fists, his nails hovering right over the lines.

“Tim, kiddo,” Bruce sighs, not letting go of his hands.

Tim’s heart thumps in his throat painfully. He’s about to say it. He’s about to tell him that he can’t patrol if he’s hurting himself. He’s going to take it all away. He’s—

“Can you explain to me why, why you do this?”

“It’s not because I—I want to hurt myself, I promise, B, I’m not—”

Bruce interrupts, “Slow down. Don’t tell me what it’s not, tell me what it is. Why do you cut your hands like this?”

Swallowing, he tries to find a way to explain. “My p-parents taught me to have a ‘politely interested’ expression,” Tim fumbles. “I wasn’t supposed to emote or I’d em-embarrass them.”

He can see the contempt in Bruce’s eyes, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything about Tim’s parents. He’s learned over the years that they did him wrong in a lot of ways, but he still loves and misses them. And this was one of those things they’d taught him that he’s always seen as an exception, a good nugget of advice in a sea of abandonment. Up until this afternoon, that is.

“They never got mad at me if I clenched my fists. They didn’t notice. Eventually, I learned instead of throwing tantrums I could just… accept it. Them leaving again. Being shuttled off to another finishing school. Whatever it was. Even if it made me mad.”

“And this was how you coped?”

Tim nods miserably. That word, coped, suddenly makes everything worse; heat flares in his face as his eyes well up. He squeezes them shut but a few traitorous tears leak out, leaving hot trails down his cheeks. “Nothing I did could change it, and they’d just get m-mad at me if I ever talked back. This is—was—something I can control.” He sniffles, “B, I—I learned a long time ago that I can’t be emotional. I have to be perfect. And I-I can be but only if I can—”

He tries to demonstrate, tries to show Bruce how he digs his fingernails in deliberately. The sting is distracting, familiar, but it only lasts a second before Bruce is forcing him to stop. He pulls his fingers straight, careful not to hurt him.

“You can’t keep doing this, Tim.” Bruce’s gaze is intense, his hands warm against Tim’s clammy skin. “I know this is going to sound rich coming from me, but… I think it’s time you let it out.”

Tim gapes at him. Tears begin streaming down his face in earnest, silent but more than he’s allowed himself in a long time. “What?”

“Let yourself cry, chum. It—it helps.”

Tim shakes his head. Teardrops slide off his jaw onto his expensive school pants. “I don’t want to. I can’t. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Bruce says gently. He tugs Tim closer, wrapping his arms loosely around his back. “Come on, let it out. I’m here. You don’t have to be perfect. It’s okay.”

Tim resists, but he’s helpless, caught in his dad’s arms. With a strangled gasp, he dives forward to hide his face in Bruce’s chest. The dam inside him has been threatening overflow for years—but finally, finally, he lets it out.

[cherryblossomtease]

In The Fairest Season ~ Part 1

18+ only- oral sex, strong sexual content see Masterlist for full warnings

~ ~

LATE SEPTEMBER

The field of pale long grass dotted by wild flowers, bends and sways in time with the distant waves far below the cliffs, its waters cold and black, its peaks bright white. There is no distinction between the sound of the wild, hidden shoreline and the wind whipping through the blades of grass which spread out like that wide sea far into the distance. This place is untamed, and completely unbothered by her.

She is sitting, still as a stone in its middle, like a fixed spot in time.

She, is soft morning beauty, and quiet, contemplative grace. She should seem out of place along the lonely Sokovian coast but instead it is hard to imagine her any where else but here.

She is the vision of life and love and a second chance at both, and she, is you.

The Baron is watching as you take a deep, slow breath of the country air, so clear and easy to inhale that it makes you a little sad to know that this has been here all along and you are only just beginning to explore it.

The city was wonderful in so many ways when it was all you’d ever known, but out here you realize just how shut in you’ve been, living between the press of stone and steel, breathing in the thick smoke of industry.

When the Baron first asked you to come, you’d feared leaving the excitement, pollution or not, but one look into his eyes and you’d been persuaded. You would do anything just to see them shine and his love had burned as bright as the sun when you said yes.

“Are you hungry? Breakfast is ready.”

Helmut’s voice is soft as the morning wind that lifts your hair and strokes your cheek. You’d felt his presence but only now do you turn to look up at him and find the man gazing down at you in his morning finery. A jacket and vest, the gold chain of his pocket watch catching the faint sunlight, his boots black and shining in the grass. Even at this hour he is every bit the Baron.

You feel next to naked in the white nightgown you’d snuck out in, but you wanted to feel the air on your skin and the earth beneath your feet. Sokovia should be experienced with all of the senses. You’d decided this the moment you arrived, and while your unrefined ways will be the talk of the servants quarters, you could not care less what they whisper about. This is your home now and you wish to know it.

“I am actually.” You answer and do little to hide your smile as you think to yourself that after last night, you could eat him out of house and home, but you’re too shy to say this out loud. However Helmut is an astute man and reads your face easily. He knows what you’re thinking of which draws out his own smile and he extends his hand to help you up.

When you are on your feet and at his side, he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you close to lead you back towards the stone wall that separates his land from the fields and cliffs and sea.

“You’re feeling well?” He asks, eyes fixed ahead though you can hear his sweet concern for you. You know why he’s asking, and a shiver of pleasure shoots through your belly as you shut your eyes remembering.

He held your wrists tighter as he thrust into you, faster, harder— it is overwhelming, but you love him— you cling to him, awed that this works, that he fits. A tear streams down the side of your face as you gasp wanting to scream from the sheer joy of it.

“Perfectly.” You answer opening your eyes and feeling a flush as you glance up. The memory makes your breath shallow as you speak. “I’ve never known such a perfect morning.” You hope he understands how deeply you mean it. The absolute only thing that compares, is the feeling of euphoria that washes over you while onstage. It happens just as you’ve completed an aria and the audience sits in silence, too overcome by your voice to react until they finally break out into applause. That, is what loving him, and being loved feels like.

As you walk together he leans over to kiss the top of your hair, still wild from sleep. He feels the same sort of untethered joy in this morning as you. The way he inhales your scent makes your heart flutter.

“I realize” He says walking upright again. “I don’t know what you like for breakfast, so I’ve had the cook prepare a little of everything for you to try.”

Your eyes dart up in the direction of the house. From here you can only see the east tower peaking up over the crest of the walled hill. “That’s so much trouble! I only need something small, an egg, a piece of toast.” You shrug.

Helmut laughs and shakes his head at you. He reaches and lays the hand not wrapped around your waist against your face bringing you close so that he may kiss your cheek. “A small breakfast may have been enough for you, the singer. But not you, the Baroness.” He says playfully, lips still touching your skin.

You melt against his warmth and think that while he may be right, it doesn’t matter. You like eggs and toast. “And as the new Baroness, I’ve decided on eating what I always have.” You say with your best voice of authority. “Wait.”

He halts the march towards home and looks down at you, his brow raised as he waits.

“I’d like some jam too actually. Mmm Raspberry.” You sigh and shut your eyes.

Helmut truly laughs now stepping around to block your path just before the break in the wall. “You can have all the raspberry jam in Sokovia. Please, Voljena, darling girl allow yourself to enjoy this life, it is yours for as long as you draw breath.” He says softly with his hands on either side of your face. “I know, it will take time to adjust, but I only want to see you happy."

You hold onto his wrist, sliding your hand over the back of his larger one. “Helmut… Happy is such a simple word, it’s a shame there isn’t a better one. I feel so many things all at once. But I promise I will say the words I feel in my heart as soon as I know them.”

His worry melts away to a look of content and he leans in to kiss you.

When his hands migrate down to your shoulders, his thumb stroking the soft line of your collar bone, he pulls away and glances down, chuckling softly. “As beautiful as you look out here in your nightgown, perhaps a coat next time?”

You laugh and blush embarrassment. “I like the cool air. And I thought I could come and go before anyone noticed I’d gone.”

He shakes his head and holds the back of your neck, “I knew. I felt the bed empty.” He says, his gaze slowly moving across your face, lingering on your lips.

You feel your knees go a bit weak. He does know how to make a woman feel wanted with the simplest of words. “I’m sorry I woke you.” You say, secretly happy to know that your absence was enough to rouse him.

“No, no don’t apologize. I’m pleased to see that you want to know my homeland.”

“Yes, but its mine now too, isn’t it?” You ask glancing out at the beautifully moody landscape.

Helmut nods and looks you over as though the love he feels physically hurts in the best of ways. “Yes, all of it. Everything I have is yours moja ljubavi” He whispers and kisses you again.

My love. Each time he says it you feel your heart swell.

He pulls you close in a way that sparks more memories of last night. They flicker, quick as a candles flame —his elegant fingers turning to fists as he pulls your nightgown over your head leaving you naked and vulnerable. But Helmut is kind and gentle as he touches parts of you that have been aching for this. He kisses and strokes, grabs and pulls until you lay on the bed nearly begging for him— you had not known that you could want something you’d never had so badly until last night.

When he takes your waist in hand now and turns you around so that he can walk you to the wall, your back finds the stones and he kisses you with a renewed enthusiasm. His mouth dragging from your lips to kiss along your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

You shut your eyes and run your fingers through his thick hair as he makes his way to your breast, your nipples pushing against the thin cotton of your shift, their color showing through the nearly sheer fabric and even you can see how badly they long for his attention.

“I want you here.” You breathe, pushing your head back against the wall, moaning from the anticipation.

Helmut glances up at you. The heavy look of desire in his eyes is a reflection of your own. He takes your left side in hand, lifting to suck your sensitive flesh through the material and you bite your lip, little moans and shivers your uncontrollable response to his mouth on your covered breast.

Releasing your nipple which now feels cold without his attention, Helmut reaches down and gathers your shift, raising until your lower half is exposed.

Your eyes meet.

Helmut's smile so often walks the thinnest of lines, you imagine he could so easily go towards darkness especially with what you know him to be capable of. But you are drawn to this and to him like a moth to the flame.

Holding your breath, you wait. Wanting him, completely unsure and a little afraid of what it is he will do. And then you feel his hand, warm and strong rub down over your mound of silky  hair to the soft skin below; the gold ring on his little finger is cool against your skin.

He strokes a small circle with his fingers pressed close together, much like he did in bed, watching you to see your reaction. You try to hold back but even this simple stimulation feels so good that your mouth opens with a sound you thought you could only make under the cover of night.

Helmut smiles wider and nods for you to take the hem of your shift. “Hold it up.” He says. You quickly grip the night dress tight against your stomach as he goes to his knees —lord, in his beautiful trousers, you grin— and looks up at you, but not at your face.

The way he stares boarders on sacrilegious. He kneels before your alter of lovely folds and glistening skin like a man seeking penance before the only true thing he believes in.

His thumb strokes, parting you just enough that he may tease himself with the view and you hear him humming a deep moan. He takes hold of your ankle and moves your leg out so that your thighs are farther apart before using both hands to spread you, exposing your most intimate places to the wind and you toss your head back, holding onto his shoulders as he dives in to praise you as you’ve never felt before.

This did not happen last night.

You gasp loudly—shocked and resistant— but he grabs your thighs, sliding his hands up and around to your backside, holding you tight, burying his face in the heat of your center until you fear he won’t be able to breath… and then he starts to move his mouth and you think, let him die if this is how he goes.

Laughing as you moan, your eyes roll shut, feeling his tongue swirl and lap, exploring and playing as much as he is working towards something.

You’ve heard of this? Heard the other theatre girls laughing about the skill of the different Lords who see your kind as fair game, but you’ve managed to avoid their honeyed words and empty promises, instead dedicating your life to your singing.

But this man… every word from his lips has been as true as his tongue.

He starts to suck at that place only you have ever touched before last night and when the perfectly crude movements combine with the trust and love you cary for him, you realize what it is he wants to make happen.

It almost did before, but you were so overwhelmed and nervous. It was incredible to know that you could make him climax, powerful even. But how would he ever be able to do the same for you when you needed more than he did.

Now you understand.

With your hands full of the shift and his hair, you feel the pressure begin to mount. Opening your eyes you look out past the field to the distant water that looks as calm and still as the sky. Helmut is rolling his tongue around the peak of your clitoris slowly, so slowly you can’t stand it. It makes you want to scream and you feel your chest tighten as you tilt your hips forward urging him to never stop.

So this is what it feels like…

You dare to look down, watching his head move which makes you smile with a rush of love and appreciation for his efforts. A gasping laugh rushes from your lungs as he runs his tongue from opening to peak, and you catch a glimpse of his mouth wet and shining when he pulls back to take a breath.

You involuntarily moan his name and pull at his hair, needing more with an urgency you will be ashamed to admit to when this is over, but for now it’s all you want.

You feel him chuckle against your skin before continuing. He sucks your clitoris into his mouth and batters it with his tongue until you can only cling to him and let the wind carry the loudest of your cries away from the keen ears of the servants just behind the wall.

The rise begins again, and though you've known it before—alone in your bed, quietly sighing into the dark— this is new and as your body insists you feel it not only there but seemingly everywhere, you succumb to the wonderful shock of your first given orgasm.

Pulsing against his mouth, your eyes fixed on the sea as you come, you fight the urge to fall to the ground as your thighs flex against his face while Helmut laps at your tight entrance. He swallows your sticky sweetness as though it is the elixir to long life.

When he does finally pull away, you drop your shift and wrap your arms around his neck and head, thankful for his strong and steady arms that hold you up.

Helmut lets go with one arm to run the back of his hand across his mouth with a smile. He looks up at you, and suddenly the strongest urge to taste yourself on his lips takes hold which surprises you. But the moment you bend and kiss him, you understand why.

There are so many levels to the connection between the two of you. Of course it is not new, this sort of love, but it is the first time you have ever felt it.

You inhale as you kiss and the sense of there being no start to him or end to you is intoxicating. There is only this single union that your love has formed.

Of course I’m happy— you think back to his heartfelt request before you’d both forgotten about breakfast— I am loved and satisfied. I am your wife.

[thoughtsfrommareincognitum]

The girl who fell to Earth.

"One day, I'll come out of my shell, I'm sure," says Aldous Harding. She does not seem to be speaking to anyone in particular; her words seem directed mostly at herself. A few minutes later, she repeats those exact words as if she hasn't said them before. Aldous Harding—real name Hannah Harding; her stage name is presumably taken from the author of Brave New World and even now produces a brief mental ripple of confusion every time I say it out loud—is from New Zealand, and this is the second time I have seen her. My dear friend Andi is with me; this is the third time she's seen her. Harding is just that sort of singer, the kind you wish you could see every year.

Harding is playing at a small Phoenix lounge, but I keep feeling I'm back in the early '90s, a time I am increasingly persuaded was the last truly magical time I've lived through. Hints are everywhere: Something about the solemn, ghostly atmosphere reminds me of the setting of Nirvana's Unplugged; the red curtains that frame the band, meanwhile, are straight out of Twin Peaks. This is just a daydream, of course, not rooted in any kind of reality outside my own head, but that sort of free association seems perfectly suited to the world of Aldous Harding, who seems to have one foot in the world and one foot out of it. She walks the stage with the dreamy deliberateness of a creature moving underwater.

This venue couldn't be better suited to her. Thus my annoyance at the fellow about six feet in front of me who keeps bobbing back and forth like he's at a different type of concert; thus the audience's growing and palpable disdain for the people who keep shouting things at Harding, "You rock!" and that sort of thing. Like they're trying to be helpful. While it works at some shows, it seems grotesquely inappropriate here because Harding doesn't respond. She gazes out at the crowd with a peculiar expression—part curiosity, part revulsion—every time someone yells something. Finally she explains, in halting words that won't quite form themselves into full sentences, that talking to the audience distracts her from the music.

There is something alien about Harding, a primal otherness that leaps out of her deepest self and seems to shape every movement she makes, every syllable she forms. You wonder if she would be just as happy without an audience. She rolls her eyes, grins, grimaces, makes faces that seem to have nothing to do with what she is singing. After one song she stares at us with unnerving intensity for a long time, like a sailor who's spotted a storm on the horizon. It's hard to imagine her living in a house, like other people; I picture her tending a small garden on an asteroid, like the Little Prince.

In the last match he ever played, Bobby Fischer insisted that a soundproof glass wall separate him and the crowd; his fragile mind couldn't tolerate the sound of regular people making their revolting noises. Harding seems to be retreating in front of our eyes into her simple but, often, unfathomably strange songs, which she sings with a feral intensity that belies her voice, a serene and stable instrument that could easily have been used for much more ordinary purposes.

After a while you start to notice everything else—the drummer who, at one point, pulls out a trumpet and toots on it a bit; the piano player who every so often stands up to give Harding a turn at the keys. She moves from instrument to instrument, now standing, now sitting, smiling harder the more deeply she is allowed to plunge into the music; somehow she seems more of a star the further she pulls back into herself. She sings about birds a lot, and perhaps that's apt; birds are near us one second and gone the next, friendly and solitary, alert and still, the only surviving members of an ancient family that once ruled the world. So it is with this visitor from another world, who eventually will leave the stage without a word.

[linkspooky]

Why do you like these morally broken characters so much?

Broken characters are more interesting because they have something to fix -  by that I mean there’s an obvious reason why we might get invested in their story, and follow them, because we want to see them get better. Characters with more obvious flaws are usually better written, it’s as simple as that. Let’s go over two basic ideas of storytelling. 

 Character Arc - we choose to follow a certain character because there is something they’re wrong about, or something wrong about them, they have some conflcit that needs to be resolved by the end of the story, usually centering around a character flaw. Flaws are important because they give the character an impetus, a reason to change. Flaws are what get people invested in characters, because they want to see the character do better by the end. 

Show don’t tell - there’s a lot of debate of what this storytelling rule means exactly, so I’m going to simplify it. A story is essentially trying to make an argument. A story is trying to persuade you of an idea. An argument is more persuasive when there is evidence behind it. For example you can tell the audience a character is empathic, but going great lengths to show that character practicing empathy will always be more effective storytelling. If I can point to something that happened in story and say this is the character doing the thing then that character has strong characterization. 

Shigaraki is a better written character than Deku. He has a character arc, and everything about Shigaraki is shown instead of just told to us. Whereas the story continually tells us that Deku is special, that Deku is a good person, that Deku is empathic but his actions never really support what the story tells us. I’m going to go more into this under the cut. 

1. Character Flaw

What is Deku’s character flaw? What is the thing he needs to work on in order to become a better hero. The problem is Deku never has a clear and consistently written character flaw. We as the audience are never told what exactly is holding him back, and what he needs to improve upon in order to become a hero. 

Deku’s only real obstacle has been the fact that OFA is an unstable power. The only thing that’s held him back in sitautions is power incontinence, the fact that he has unstable control of his power and therefore will injure himself. 

Deku loses the tournament because he can’t control OFA. Deku can’t rescue bakugo in time because he can’t control OFA. Deku fails to defeat Bakugo in his rival battle because he can’t control OFA. 

Deku’s failures come from not being able to control his power, and Deku’s successes, when he defeated Chisaki, when he defeated muscle, always come from him using his power. 

Except that’s boring. Why? Because it has absolutely nothing to do with Deku himself as a person. Nothing about Deku changes as a character throughout all of this. The only thing that changes is his workout regimen. 

The only real thing that has changed about Deku is the number. Oh, he’s gotten the NUMBER to 45%. People cannot be summarized by numbers. People are usually a little more complex than that. 

The problem with this is, Deku is given countless oppurtunites to reflect and change something about himself internally. There are conflicts that Deku constantly interacts with. We just never see Deku even think about these problems. There are conflcits in the story. There are problems in society. Deku just isn’t affected by them. Everyone time Deku is asked to think about these things he goes NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY. And that’s just not very interesting. Characters are interesting because they struggle and change as they learn new things about the world, whereas Deku is just perpetually ignorant. 

Deku’s characterization comes across as weak because the story just, tells us a lot of things about him, without providing good in text evidence. We are told Deku is empathic. Except he really isn’t?

It starts with Shinso. Deku hears Shinso say something that is something he could sympathize with. Deku was also told he couldn’t become a hero because he was born quirkless. Deku should sympathize with Shinso in this situation and recognize there is something wrong with quirk society. 

Deku just doesn’t say anything and doesn’t respond. Even though he has an obvious chance to empathize, he doesn’t. We see another character actually empathize with Shinso later in the story.

Monoma’s speech acknowledges that it’s harder for them to become heroes, because they weren’t born with the HERO SOCIETY APPROVED TM quirks. Monoma’s speech is sympathetic because it acknowledges the difficulty  that Shinso has struggled with all along. Deku isn’t ever allowed to see anything wrong with HERO SOCIETY, so he never really sympathizes with its victims. He never demonstrates any empathy where he has to understand somebody who’s circumstances might be different than his, he never has to understand somebody outside of his own feelings. 

Even in story, we’re told that Shinso has some kind of special relationship with Midoriya but why? Midoriya never said anything to him. Midoriya never sympathized with him in any special way. The story even goes out of the way to show us that Midoriya just... didn’t say anything even though he understood what Shinso’s feelings were. 

This is what I mean by show don’t tell. Shinso and Midoriya’s relationship is something we are told about being special, but I can’t point to anything in text  to show that Midoriya did anything special to Shinso. In fact I can point to examples of Monoma being much more sympathetic and actually addressing what’s unfair about Shinso’s situation, and I can even point to characters like Denki being outright friendlier to him. We are told that Deku makes friends easily, and that he’s an empathic person, but we never see him reaching out that way in the story. 

And we’re not even told what Deku’s character flaw is. Why does Deku lose in each arc? Ummm....??? Why does Deku fail??? Ummm. The only reason is because he can’t control his quirk. 

2. A Flawed Character

I can just point to the text and show you these things about Shigaraki. The problem with Shigaraki in the first arc is he had no real plan, he had no real motive, and he didn’t care what happened to his allies. 

No Plan.

No Motive. 

No Allies. 

These three things are obviously things that are missing from Shigaraki at the start of the story, and his arc is a quest to gain these things. If you notice, every single character explicitly points out how much Shigaraki sucks, like all the time. 

Stain won’t work with Shigaraki because Shigaraki doesn’t have any ideals that can convince Shigaraki to work with him. The attempt for Shigaraki to recruit allies fails. This is a problem. Shigaraki fails twice, not only does he fail to get Stain on his side, but he also fails to make someone sympathize with his cause because he can’t reach out to others. 

This is something that Shigaraki learns by the camp raid arc. That he needs to gather allies with sympathetic ideals, and he needs to be about some kind of cause otherwise people won’t listen to him. 

Shigaraki’s first two fights are spectacular defeats that are very humbling for him, and the reason he fails has entirely to do with these flaws. It’s after this point he starts learning. The first thing is he learns to take advantage of Stain’s publicity to recruit people with similiar ideals to his cause. However, Shigaraki is still flawed going into the next arc. Camp Raid arc, Shigaraki uses the vanguard action squad essentially as disposable pawns. He manipulates them from a distance not taking any actiong himself. 

Shigaraki is not a good enough leader at this point. Not only do the flaws in his plan catch up with him (his inability to get Bakugo to sympathize with him, his helplessness when All Might shows up, his overreliance on AFO to bail him out) but he once again suffers a consequence, loses something, and needs to imrpove by the next arc. The Chisaki arc revolves around the camraderie that Shigaraki was lacking in, in the camp raid arc. 

It starts with a very specific and precise callout. You have no plan. You misuse the crimminals you have under your thumb, and let go of them too easily. Then, Shigaraki suffers another consequence. Because he is not a good enough leader at managing his people, Magne dies, and Shigaraki is put into a tight position. This all happens because of failings on Shigaraki’s part, the direct result of them, which challenges him to grow and improve. 

Shigaraki is a twisted cycle path. However, unlike Deku I can point to the first moment in story where he began to open up with other people and share his feelings. 

Why is Twice so loyal to Shigaraki? Because Shigaraki accepted him and his struggles in this movie. THIS IS EVIDENCE. If the author is making the argument that Shigaraki is an empathic character, he has moments where Shigaraki is SHOWN to be empathizing with others.

Shigaraki tells Twice he knows he’s asking him to do something difficult, and that he knows Twice is suffering, but that they’re in this together and he believes they can overcome it. Deku tells Shinso. Nothing. Literally nothing. Just doesn’t even open his mouth. In this case Shigaraki is written as the more empathic character, because Shigaraki actually empathizes with people. 

Deku’s writing is so weak because it’s wishy washy. He has no central beliefs his character is written around. He has no strong emotions. And he especially has no flaw. Deku is so wishy washy he’s not even allowed to hold a simple opinion like child abuse might be bad. He’s so malleable that he just tells Todoroki that Enji should be forgiven now, because the writer is TELLING YOU instead of showing you that Enji has improved in his character arc. 

Whereas, by the end of the Chisaki Arc we can see the difference in how Shigaraki has changed. He has opened up to the other people around him and now includes them as essential parts in his plan. He’s gone from “I’ll be the next one” to “We’ll be the next one.” He’s gone from hiding at the bar and plotting far away, to fighting on the front lines with his people and even using himself as a distraction so Dabi and Compress won’t be hurt. 

The story is constantly trying to tell me what is so special about Deku, but I don’t see it. Because the story doesn’t have any evidence to back up its argument. Wheras, the story doesn’t need to tell me about Shigaraki. The story never tells us Shigaraki is a special boy. It never tells us he’s a good person. It in fact, tells us how much Shigaraki sucks, and needs to get better. In that way, when Shigaraki makes progression it’s clearer because the story is always clear about what he’s missing, what his flaws are, and what he needs to work on. 

The Re-Destro arc once again, points out Shigaraki’s shortcomings. He has no real plan for what is coming next. He has no clear motive. He has no way of gathering resources. Because of that, the League has been failing. 

Shigaraki reevaluates his origin story. He wants to destroy the oppressive society, the same way he destroyed his father’s house. Once he does that he’s able to tear down the structures of Deika city, and defeat Re-Destro because he realizes what he wants to accomplish. 

Shigaraki listened to his allies that they had no resources, and then made his next priority to acquire those. Then, to skip ahead a little bit we have the latest fight Shigaraki is struggling in. Remember, Shigaraki was missing three things in the UA Raid. 1. No Plan, 2. No Motive, 3. No Allies

At the start of the manga, All Might said that Shigaraki couldn’t accomplish anything because he had hollow ideals. Endeavor repeats that accusation.

However, we know that’s not true now. We have seen Shigaraki gain all three things, an ideal to center himself around, allies, and a plan for what he wants to do and accomplish. 

This scene, parallels this scene. Except we know now why Shigaraki does the things that he does, that Shigaraki has motivations, that Shigaraki has learned from his experiences. 

Shigaraki’s speech has substance now, because we’ve seen the long journey for how he came to acquire these beliefs. Why does Deku want to be the number one hero? Why does Endeavor want to be the number one hero? Neither of those questions are things you can answer by pointing to events that happened in story. 

Shigaraki is the result of everything that has happened to him so far, and all of his struggles have taught him a lesson. When he repeats essentially what he said to All Might at the beginning of the arc, this time we know his words have meaning. Shigaraki believes society doesn’t save people, because he’s lived it. He believes that heroes are violent, and contribute to the system of violence, because he was violently abused all his life. Shigaraki believes that society rejects the victims who needs it’s help the most, because Shigaraki has been collecting people like that in the league all of whom dropped out of society  through no fault of their own. When Shigaraki makes his arguments, I can point to things that happened in the story that back up his arguments. There is evidence. I can’t do that for Deku, because everything about Deku we are told rather than shown even though he gets three times the amount of screentime. 

Deku may be a better person, but who cares about that? Deku and Shigaraki aren’t real people. I don’t have to interact with them. Deku is not my roommate who I have to talk to on a daily basis. This is a work of fiction that is WRITTEN. Shigaraki is better written. That’s why - Shigaraki is a better character. 

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 7 ~All In A Day's Work~

WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in  A Wrinkle of Time

"You have my blessings. Conditions are, there should be once a week phone-calls. Video or facetime ones or whatever you call it. And when I'm on British soil ..."

Jamie suddenly straightened up on his seat. "We'll visit, or ye can come and stay with us." 

Quentin shot up on his feet. "Very well then, welcome to the family, Fraser. Go and get your dinner ...you wouldn't want your wife ..." he coughed, his face turning red. "...I mean your girlfriend reheating what she's just lovingly made."

Jamie got up as well, ready to shut the laptop, relief and confusion at the sudden turn around washing over him in waves.  What the fuck just happened?  Too bewildered for words, "Of course," was all he could muster. 

Quentin hesitated, as if in search of the right words, his throat working overtime. When he finally spoke, Jamie couldn't help but hear the emotion in the older man's voice. "If Claire's father was alive today, he would think his daughter has made a fine choice."

His jaw dropped involuntarily. "He would?" 

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

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   Claire sat at her desk in her newly built writing studio, contemplating what to do about Thomas Christie next. For the past couple of days, she'd attempted to reach the elusive blogger by all means of communication: phone calls, email, comments on his posts and private messages in his Instagram and blog account. But her efforts, to her frustration, were to no avail. She'd even asked around the village for information on his whereabouts, but each answer led to nowhere. Though he had a resident address, it's quite apparent he wasn’t in. She'd thought of asking Jamie for help but decided not to. It was her project, and she's determined she would accomplish it with her own research skills.

Sighing, she leaned back against her seat and stared at the ceiling. Her boss, John, was counting on her to convince Christie to publish with Dreamweaver Publishing, and so far, she had nothing to show. Looking out the window facing the open fields, her gaze settled on the tractor bumpily navigating a small ragged lane, the rumbling of the engine soundless. She smiled. True to his words, Jamie had more than adequately soundproofed her workspace, shutting out any distracting noise. But with no sign of life from Christie, her work had been brought to a standstill.

Ah, hell! Claire glanced at the time. It was already mid-morning, and she'd been sat there staring blankly at Christie's blog all morning. What to do, what to do? She switched tabs on her browser and looked at his Instagram account, and realised he'd just posted a photo circa a minute ago. She decided to strike while he was online and send a message. Go for it, Beauchamp! With huge calming breaths, she rolled her shoulders and began to type, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Hello Mr Thomas Christie. My name is Claire Beauchamp from Dreamweaver Publishing Company, London. I have been trying to reach you for the last couple of days to offer you a proposal that may be of interest to you. Some time ago, we came across your blog, and after having read through the content, we've come to realise it has an enormous potential to become the ultimate guidebook to the Scottish Highlands in print. Your knowledge, passion, and enthusiasm for Scotland and your keen eye for photography have captured the public interest, our company and myself included. We'd love to assist you in reaching your highest potential and expanding an even broader following should you be interested in authoring a book. I will be in Broch Mordha for the next few days if you wish to speak to me in person, and I will be more than delighted to explain the details. Any feedback you can give me at this point would be highly appreciated. Best regards, Claire.

Thinking Christie would appreciate the option, she included her phone number and her professional email address and then clicked send. After going over her message, she randomly liked his posts and commented on a recent photo for good measure, hoping it would be enough to get his attention. Oh, please answer this time!

Satisfied for now she'd done everything she could, she decided to make a coffee. She was just about to get up when her phone rang, making her jump in the process. Oh, sweet Mother of God! She must be more on edge than she thought. Clearing her throat, she gingerly tapped the answer button on her screen.

"Hello?" she squeaked. Damn it! I sound weird. 

"Miss Beauchamp?" a deep, heavily accented voice answered. "Thomas Christie here."

"Mr Christie! You called!"

"Please, call me Tom. I'm no' much for convention and formalities. May I call ye Claire? If that's alright."

"Of course," she smiled, regaining back some semblance of composure. She'd already prepared a presentation in her head, but looking back now, it sounded like a pitch from a realtor selling a million-pound property. She reminded herself, Thomas Christie was a nature buff and liked to live an uncomplicated life, if not minimally, when travelling around Scotland in his restored Westfalia Volkswagen Camper. If she'd learned anything from his posts, it was that he wouldn't be easily persuaded with a promise of fame and monetary gain. There's no option but to start improvising.

"I heard a pretty lass was looking for me," he drawled with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I was informed ye were asking around. At first, I thought ye might have been from the council trying to get hold of me because of my unpaid council taxes. If that had been the case, I would have made an exception and come and paid my dues after seeing the photo my mate has taken of ye. Shame it wasn't a better close-up."

"Photo?"

"Aye, photo. My mate took it when ye werenae looking and sent it to me. Ye are bonnie, I must admit."

"Oh!" Holy, is he flirting? Claire wouldn't be surprised. This man's charms had drawn quite a lot of female fans to his site, and it was apparent that he's attempting to weave it on her. He probably thrived in his devotees' admiration, making him aware of his own appeal. This kind of cocksure behaviour wasn't a novelty, so she ignored the teasing but attempted to maintain a fairly laidback attitude. "Well, as you can see, I'm not from the council. And if I were, I wouldn't be making a noise about it now, would I?"

He laughed out loud. "You're right. So, what can I do for ye, Claire?"

"Have you read my message?"

"I have," he said quietly. "But I want to hear from ye why ye think my blog would be good enough to be published."

"Well, as I said, your passion and enthusiasm for Scotland are very apparent in your writing. Your words are ... how shall I say it, so visceral. But I'm not going to lie, though. We would need to make a lot of adjustments before we could present it to the mass. A bit of tweaking here and there and ..."

"Tweaking? I thought ye liked my work as it is?"

"Oh, I do," she said hurriedly. "You misunderstood. We wouldn't want to take the essence out of your writing. It's just a process every book has to go through before it's published. Like polishing your sentences, making them smooth and clear, ensuring that they don't have unnecessary phrases and repetition. And of course, there's the design and typesetting ...oh, well, that's for much later on. It's all standard drill in the publishing process."

"I see ..."

When a long silence lapsed, she checked her phone screen to make sure they were still connected.

"Tom?"

"Aye, I'm still here." He took a huge deep breath. "And what's yer role in this, Claire?" 

"I'm the editorial assistant for Dreamweaver, and I'm here to make this proposal and answer all your questions."

"Right ...Weel, ye see, this is my concern. I'm an avid book reader, and while I'm pleased with all the attention my online journal is getting, I highly doubt that my writing would make it among the best selling list, let alone would anyone, for that matter, be too giddy with excitement to buy it. So what's all the fuss?"

The ambiguity in his voice wasn't lost on her. He may be this self-assured, nature-loving, nonconformist bloke as he'd portrayed on his online travel journal. But clearly, some of that attitude needed to rub off on his self-belief for his art.

"Oh, but that's where you're mistaken," she reassured. "My boss, John Grey, is totally sold with the idea of your adventure stories around Scotland, and he thinks with the proper structural development, design and marketing, it would be a hit. Especially with your fans. The concept is refreshing, and it would be different from any travel guides out there. And besides, it would be an excellent boost for Scottish tourism."

He made some muffled noise and then cleared his throat. "What about ye?"

"What about me?"

"Are ye sold on the idea of my blog?"

Part of John's faith in this book's promising prospect clung to Tom's admirable physical qualities. But for her, that wasn't the main selling point.

She straightened up from her seat and leaned over her laptop. With a flick of her wrist, she brought her computer to life and right there on the screen was his Instagram account. She remembered John's words, Sell him the dream! But she didn't need reminding. Tom may not be the most proficient writer, but his contents were great, especially the picturesque panorama photos. She read a few snippets of his post and smiled.

"Tom ...this opportunity Dreamweaver is offering you would be great exposure for your travel journal. By publishing it in print, you'll be able to reach a broader audience. Your knowledge of this wonderful place is beyond incredible from flora to fauna, the lands' history, the weather phenomenon that can only be termed as typically Scottish ...the whole package is simply amazing. Your passion and enthusiasm for this place make me want to go on that adventure you so love …" She inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. "And I know deep in my guts your future readers would feel the same way. And that's what a great travel book should do, great adventure stories that inspire readers and challenge them to step outside the comfort zone ...even for a little while. This is the kind of book that could encourage people to explore, make them realise that escape from the daily drudgery doesn't mean expensive trips halfway around the world, and that adventure can be found in one's own backyard or a few miles trip down the road. I say you should share this with the world. And to answer your question ...yes, I'm totally sold."

She was out of breath by the time she finished, so she leaned back on her seat and crossed her fingers, hoping for a positive outcome. It was all now down to Tom. She didn't want to push, but the longer the silence between them went on, the more she felt like she was forcing him into a snap decision.

Ah, hell! "Look, Tom, there's no need to decide right now. You have my number. Why don't you think about it for now and call me up when you've made a decision. How about that?"

"I have a better idea. How about we discuss this further in person before I decide? Let's say ...over a dinner date?" he suggested in a low voice.

The word date resounded loudly in her ear. Oh, dear, God!

She needed to play this right without making it look like she was turning him down. Hoping for the best, she laughed nervously. "Of course, it only seems fair to meet first in person before you decide." She swallowed hard and squeezed her eye shut. "But I would hardly call it a date. We can meet at the Inn's pub in the village square and professionally discuss everything over lunch if that's alright. And just to be clear, I already have a boyfriend." 

"Ah, damn!"

She flinched. "Oh, dear!"

He laughed. "Relaxed, Claire. I get it. Ye're taken, and I'm no' surprised. But ye cannae blame a lad for trying, could ye?"

"N-no, of course not ..."

"So business lunch it is then. I'm away for a few more days, so ye have to wait a bit more. I'll give ye a ring when I get back. How's that?"

Yess! She made an effort not to sound too relieved. "That's perfect, Tom! I'll see ye in a few days!"

"Great!" Then the line went dead. 

She let out a massive sigh of relief. So damn close! Feeling elated at the outcome of their conversation, she shot to her feet and did a happy dance. She couldn't wait to call John and tell him everything. If she did her work well and laid out all the finer details of the publishing process and projected outcome, she knew Tom wouldn't be able to turn down the proposal. Invigorated, she immediately went back to work and began typing her outline. Ah, life is good!

..........

Jamie killed the chainsaw engine and pulled down his safety goggles when he caught sight of Jenny's car approaching. He had a bird's eye view of the driveway from the tree and could see everyone's coming and going. What the bloody hell is she doing here? She didn't usually come to job sites; nevertheless, he decided to come down since it was nearly lunch break. Wondering why her visit couldn't wait until work was done for the day, he gripped on to his harness and made a slow descent.

His sister got out of the car, stopping to greet some of the workers and subtly launching glares at him. Alertness immediately snapped in Jamie's shoulders as he realised something was up. 

He dropped to the ground, his work boots landing on a combination of mulch and wood chips debris. As he laid down his chainsaw, he watched his sister approach and noticed the forced smile she had for the workers a few seconds ago, waning from her face. He braced himself as he waited for her to say something, unease slithering like a snake up his spine. This was definitely not a friendly visit.

"What's this I hear, ye havenae been attending therapy?" she hissed. "Have ye gone, daft?"

He glanced above Jenny's head to see if anyone was watching them before glowering down at her. "For fuck sake, Jen, ye're no' my ma," he said in a low voice. "Whatever's about to spew out of yer mouth, this is no' the time nor the place for this."

"Ach aye? Wait till ma hears about ye missing yer therapy!"

"Oh, what's this? We're back in primary school or what? Rushing off to ma to tell her everything. Why cannae ye give ma and me a break, eh?"

"The therapy is for yer own good!"

"I'm fine, Jen! I told ye that many times! What part of 'I'm fine' cannae ye understand?"

"Ye've been telling everyone that all yer life. Everything's fine ... I'm fine ... dinnae fash," she mimicked his voice, her face scrunching up. "Ye say that all the time even when, in actual fact, most of the time ye werenae. So why do ye suppose I dinnae believe ye?"

Jamie looked up at the sky and let out a massive breath. "Aye, there's truth to what ye say. But this time ...I swear, I've never felt better."

"Bloody hell! All this time, I thought ye've been attending therapy. I wouldnae have known if Geneva hadnae asked after ye."

"Weel, if ye'd asked, I would've told ye!"

"No, you wouldnae. And that's always been yer problem."

Christ, why can't she just shut up? He glanced up and noticed his men were looking towards them now. He tugged at the neck of his shirt and winded his head. "Jenny, stop! I cannae do this right now."

His sister stepped forward and was right at his face. "Ye think I'm telling ye off for fun? Weel, here's the news. Everyone wants the best for ye, but ye dinnae care, do ye? Ye're acting like one selfish prick!"

"Jenny ..." he warned, feeling hot and cold all at once.

"No, dinnae Jenny me ..."

"Jenny, shut up! I cannae ..."

"Ye could've at least had Geneva assessed ye. Is that too much to ask?"

Jamie shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he realised Jenny's voice had become distorted, and the grating sound of the stump grinder and helicopter whirring above his head grew more punctuated. Without a hint of warning, a bomb suddenly detonated inside Jamie, and his world began to move in slow motion. Seeing nothing but red, he was only vaguely aware that his angry bellow brought everyone in the vicinity to a standstill.

"What the fuck, Jamie!"

Jamie came to his senses when an arm landed across his chest. He realised Willie was standing between him and Jenny. He glanced at his sister, and her expression caused something inside of him to still. He looked down and saw his fists were two rocks, shaking as if prepared to do some severe damage. Oh, God!

"Jenny ...Willie ..." Jamie whispered. "I ...ah ..."

Hands curled up under her chin, Jenny's eyes were as big as saucers, and she looked terrified. Of me? His heart nosedived to his boots so swiftly, he wondered how he remained upright. The fury evaporated in an instant, and all that remained was shame. He'd felt that kind of guilt before but never with enough punch to knock the air out of his lungs. For crying out loud, this is my sister. What was I thinking?

"Jen ..." He attempted to reach out to his sister, but Willie's arm restrained him. Realising the cause of his older brother's concern, he forced his fists to unfold, aware of Willie watching closely. "I'm so sorry. Oh, Christ, I wasnae gonnae hurt ye," he rasped. "I could never lift a hand to ye. Ye must know that."

He swallowed a lump when Willie appeared reluctant to let him go. But Jenny patted their brother's arm, nodding to let them know she was alright. When Willie took a cautious step back, Jamie immediately gathered his sister into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

"Jen ...forgive me. I didnae mean to shout," he said thickly. "Ye ken I wouldnae physically hurt ye, aye? For Christ sake, ye're my sister, and I love ye. Ye looked so frightened. I couldnae bear the way ye looked at me ..."

"Jamie ...I wasnae scared of ye ..." Jenny whispered. "I was scared for ye."

He pulled slightly away and searched her face. "What do ye mean?"

"Even though ye've been to war, I ken ye dinnae like fighting and violence. Ye abhorred it. I was scared ye might do something ye might regret and make yer condition worse. I dinnae want that for ye."

Jamie stared down at her. "Jenny ..."

"Look, Jamie. It was my fault. I shouldnae have pushed knowing yer condition, and ye ken what my temper is like when it gets out of control. It's like ..."

"Like mine ..." Jamie finished off for her. Drawing her once more into his embrace, they stood like that for a while. Soothing, apologising and hushing each other.

Willie stared at them and shook his head in disbelief, mumbling a sequence of profanities. It wasn't the first time he'd seen their outburst with such intensity. But it was probably the first time Jamie had seemed out of control. Reassured that peace had been restored, for the time being, Willie spun around and left them alone. Exercising his authority at their workers, the older Fraser barked warnings that gossip coming from their workplace would not be tolerated and anyone found guilty would be subjected to an immediate suspension. And with that, he stomped off, leaving them all to stare at his disappearing form in shock.

..........

"There ye are," a deep voice mused.

Claire jumped, making her slam the fridge door and Adso bolt out of the kitchen. She took a deep breath before turning around. 

"Jamie! You're home early. I was just about to prepare dinner."

"Willie didn't need me for the rest of the afternoon, so he sent me home early." His chest was bare and heaving and glistening with sweat. He must have taken off his top as he came in. "I ran all the way from work. I think I may have far too much energy," he explained, slowly approaching her. His hand reached out and placed it behind her neck, and drew her in for a slow wet kiss, knocking the air out of her lungs. His other hand slid under her sweatshirt and squeezed her breast. "Tell me, what am I suppose to do about it, Sassenach."

She pulled away from him and scrunched up her nose. "Jamie! You're dirty."

"And here I thought ye like me dirty." There was no amusement in his tone, and his bunched jaw told her he was on edge or maybe stressed? 

"Why don't you take a shower while I make us something to eat, or better still, how about a bath to help you relax? I'll even bring you a beer," she suggested, feeling a tad concern as she eyed him questioningly.

"How about ye come and have a shower with me," he wheedled, tugging her closer. 

She drew away and took a step back. "Jamie, I've just had one, and I'm all clean." 

"No' a problem. I can get ye dirty in no time." Jamie hauled her into his arms as she tried to dodge. Squealing, she slapped his chest. Once more, his hands wandered, causing a tingling sensation to coast all over her body. "There we go, ye're as dirty as me now." Pressing himself against her, he inhaled her hair as his breath came faster, fingers twisting in the hem of her top. "Ye definitely need a shower now." he gritted.

Laughing, she peered up at his face, and what she saw made her do a double-take and swiped the smile off her lips in an instant. Oh, sweet Mother of God, he looks worse for wear. Something must have happened at work. Didn't he say Willie sent him home? Looking closely, she noticed he looked weighed down with need, and it wasn't just the sexual kind. It was something more and urgent. He'd had almost the same look the other night when he woke up from a fitful sleep, but she hadn't pushed to find out. His hands were all over her now, frantic and desperate like he was trying to grasp onto something to anchor himself, his breathing becoming more shallow and harsh, and his eyes beginning to glaze.

"Jamie stop! Stop right this second."

He immediately stilled and loosened his grip, shame marring his face. "Ach Christ, Sassenach, did I hurt ye? I did, didn't I? Tell me! Oh, dear God ..."

He was about to turn away, but with her hands, she forced his pained face to look at her, a moan barely subdued in his throat. She could already read what was going on through his head. No way would she stand by and let him take any blame, feel shame or guilt. Not this time. And not anymore. He'd made mistakes like everyone else and would continue to make them, but he needed to believe he was a good soul. This had to stop now. "Look at me, James Fraser," she demanded in a firm voice. "Look at me! Whatever is going through that damn mind of yours, don't you even bloody dare entertain it. Are you listening to me?"

"Sassenach ..."

"No, Jamie! I don't know what happened to you today, but let me tell you this ...shit happens all the time, alright? And sometimes we don't get to have any control over it. That's just the way it is. Tonight we're going to talk, even if it takes the whole bloomin' night. But first ..." Before she could change her mind, she stepped away from him and yanked off her top and pulled her leggings down. When she was fully naked, she took his hand and laid it on her bare breast. "Take whatever you need, Jamie."

He baulked. "Sassenach ...ye shouldnae want this in my state. It's wrong. I-I was too rough. I could have hurt ye." His voice sounded hollow and agonised. 

"But you didn't."

He palmed her breast. "Christ, do I have a shred of decency left?"

"Do you love me?" she asked, undoing his jeans button. She saw he was already highly aroused and his skin covered in goosebump.

"With all of me," he groaned when she pulled down his zipper. "And ye ken that."

Determination licking through her veins, she stood on her tiptoes and spoke into his ear, her hand sliding inside his jeans to caress the ridge of his hardness. "If that's the case, what we're about to do is not wrong."

A voice raced through her consciousness, telling her this was the way forward. She knew he needed his control back before he would be able to speak to her. So she got down on her knees and pulled his pants down. 

When he wrapped her hair in his fist and tilted her head back, she smiled. "Now, let's get dirty and exorcise those pesky brain chatter, shall we?" Before he could reply, she took him full in her mouth and worshipped him with her love, absorbing every frustrated growl that ripped from his throat and every emotion that poured out of him with every roll of his hips. 

She pushed him to the edge and over until he found his release, and his loud cries echoed in the air. When he shattered around her, his body slumped onto the floor and into her arms.

Claire knew they had a long night ahead of them, so she cradled him, waiting patiently for his breathing to calm. Later after she bathed him, they would talk, but for now, she was contented just to hold him a little while longer, as she wondered how many of Jamie's demons she would have to slay tonight and if love would be enough to conquer his hell.

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your feedback from the previous chapter. I know it was a bit deep and dark, but I really did want to do Jamie's condition justice, and I must admit, I probably got carried away putting so much emphasis into it. But that's just me, I guess.

And as for the latest instalment,  I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.  I must admit it is moving a bit slow, but it's a necessary move to pull this story together as I cover loopholes and grounds. One day, you'll understand the logic behind it.😀 So have patience, my friends - all in good time. Stay safe for now and take care until next time. X