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knjsagustd · 3 years ago

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either side of sunrise | jjk 05

We start smiling at each other again when we part. I’m getting the sense that this may become a theme. Taking moments to revel in the pure joy of whatever this is. After a second Jungkook nods, as though placing a full stop in the moment, and starts leading me down the stairs.

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→ idol!Jungkook x actress!OC (Aurora Kim-Wiseman)

→ w/c: 3.7k

→ warnings: as usual; discussions of mental illness

→ a/n: i’m back(ish). i’m in my final year of uni, so work is a bitch and writing is difficult to find time for, but i really love this story and these characters so i managed to write this. i hope you enjoy it 💛💛

I check my make up again before we leave. Digby is a magician (or just uses very good quality stuff) because it doesn’t seem to have really budged. However, I do have to rub my thumb across Jungkook’s lips where there is a shadow of my lipstick painting them a little bit too pink. The way he looks at me as I do it, all tender and sparkly, is something that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. But I really don’t have the time to examine that right now. He gives my hand a little squeeze before we exit the bathroom and go our separate ways.

James is back in his seat when I return. His agent is staring boredly at the stage but he’s got this self-satisfied grin, complete with wiggling eyebrows.

“Your lipstick’s smudged,” he whispers once I’ve retaken my seat.

“No it’s not,” I reply, refusing to give him any reaction. I stay completely straight faced as I continue, “I checked.”

Thankfully the fact we’re in a packed theatre with cameras potentially watching our every move save me from the over reaction that James would normally have to that tidbit.

“Aurora Ha-yoon Kim-Wiseman, are you telling me that you have a reason for your lipstick to be smudged?”

I roll my lips between my teeth, biting back the smile threatening at them, as James leans into my space. He’s wiggling his eyebrows manically at me.

“Would this reason happen to have the initials JJK? Hmm? Hmmmm?”

I roll my eyes before turning to face him. He’s a lot closer than I thought he’d be, he’s barely an inch away from me. I push his face away, my smile cracks through as his head turns and bounces away.

“No, I kissed a random stranger in the bathroom… what do you think?”

I didn’t think it was possible but James’ grin widens. I wait for the shoe to drop - whatever extremely inappropriate thing he’s going to whisper and promptly be met with violence from both me and his agent who is definitely listening - but James just nods. He ducks his head, smiles, and settles back into his chair. I’m tempted to dig at him, find out what’s going on inside his head but I don’t want to push my luck. He’s probably just stocking it for after the ceremony.

The Grammys last around two and half hours after that. I spend the entire time trying not to look around at Jungkook. It’s especially hard because I know BTS are performing but according to the program they’re last. It’s like the organisers were trying to test me specifically. James is nudging me in that obnoxious, highschool, way when they’re introduced. I’m sure that if I look over at him he’ll be grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows and dodging his agent who really deserves a raise. Everytime I watch BTS perform in person is different but it’s always amazing. The energy is always infectious and I can’t help the smile on my face. This time I know when Jungkook looks at me it’s not just a fluke, or the lighting playing tricks on me. I know that when Jimin nudges him as they scatter from the chorus choreo that I’m the joke. In the best way possible. Seeing Jungkook perform is magical. This is natural habitat; in the same way I’m nothing without a script and camera, Jungkook belongs on stage - sharing his gift with the world. To think there's a universe where he may not get to do this is impossible.

Jungkook texts me after the ceremony finishes. I’m just gathering my stuff when I feel my phone buzz in my clutch.

JJK: Backstage, dressing room 4.

I don’t even think before I’m typing out a reply.

Me: coming.

There’s an after party I’m meant to be going to. I know for a fact that BTS won’t be there. They don’t normally go to that sort of thing, especially not outside Korea. But I can be late. Or not go, tell Maia I was feeling sick when she asks why no one is reporting my appearance. Tell James the truth, he’d rather I did this than spend the night looking out for him. I catch him as we stand to leave. He hugs me after I tell him.

“Get it girl,” he whispers to me, so not even his agent can hear. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

I laugh as we part.

“That means far less than you think it does.”

He just nods, a proud smile on his face.

Jungkook is pacing back and forth backstage, flipping his phone in his hands, when I round the corner to the dressing room. Despite the fact that all I want to do is run to him, I walk slowly over. Trying not to draw any attention to us. He stops when he sees me, a puppy dog smile spreading over his face.

“Hey,” he says when I reach him. I see his hand flex as his side.

“Hey.”

For a moment we just stand there looking at each other, smiling. It’s not an awkward silence. Just happy. Being in each other's presence is enough. My heart is doing flips in my chest and I literally can’t stop the smile on my face. I’m an actress, I should be better at controlling my emotions than this. Jungkook looks around, cautiously, for a second before stepping closer to me. He ghosts his hand down my arm before taking me, interlocking our fingers.

“Rory Kim-Wiseman,” he starts, stopping to let out a small, embarrassed, chuckle. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Jeon Jungkook… I would love that.”

With that he tugs my arm, guiding me towards an emergency exit I hadn’t even noticed. It leads out into a stairwell. As soon as we’re through the doors he takes a second to pull me into him. His free hand instantly runs through my hair and draws me into a kiss. I snake my hand up to tangle in the hair at the back of his head. Pressing myself further into him. Kissing him is like drinking cold water after waking up in the night. I never want to stop. We start smiling at each other again when we part. I’m getting the sense that this may become a theme. Taking moments to revel in the pure joy of whatever this is. After a second Jungkook nods, as though placing a full stop in the moment, and starts leading me down the stairs.

They lead down to the Staples centre employee parking, far from prying eyes. Waiting near where we exit is a black car. It’s familiar in that way that this sort of car is familiar to every celebrity. Big, black, with tinted windows. The sort of car I’ve always sat in the back of in LA.

Mark, who has been head of my security team for years, is waiting by the car. Instantly his eyes zone in on mine and Jungkook’s joined hands. It feels like being caught by my dad. Which is not wholly inaccurate given that Mark has been looking after me since Introducing Me.

“You two sneakin’ off,” he says, smirking as he leans against the car. Another man steps out of the driver’s seat, broad and Korean. There’s a fond smile on his face, directed at Jungkook. He tosses a bag to Jungkook.

“You have three hours, we will come too,” he says, sharing a smile with Mark. Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the bag. It’s full of clothes. He hands me a black hoodie. I pull it on quickly, thankful for the warmth it provides. I ignore everyone’s eyes as I pull the hood up around my cheeks, making sweater paws with the sleeves, and breathe in the Jungkook smell ingrained in it.

“I couldn’t get a change of clothes for you, but you seem happy enough,” Mark says with a wink before slinging himself into the front passenger seat. And I’m left standing there with a blush burning across my cheeks. Jungkook has left me to speak in rapid fire Korean with his security guy. But he keeps looking at me. Our eyes meet, with me still pressing his hoodie to my face, and the little smile he sends me makes my heart stutter. Feeling caught, I fumble for the door and tuck myself inside. It’s a bit of a trial considering that I’m still wearing a gown. In front of me Mark is laughing at my antics. I kick his chair in retaliation. He manages to calm himself as Jungkook and his guy take their seats. Before he starts the car Jungkook’s bodyguard twists around, offering me a handshake.

“I am happy to finally meet you, Miss Aurora, Jungkook speaks of you frequently and highly. I am Kang Chi-Hoon.”

Beside me Jungkook groans, sinking into the seat. I shoot a smile towards him before shaking Chi-Hoon’s hand, bowing as deeply as I can given my position. I like the reminder that I’m not alone in this. That Jungkook is just as far down this rabbit hole as I am. Chi-Hoon’s hand is warm but not clammy, comforting in a way. I might be imagining the soft squeeze he gives me before releasing my hand to face the front. It’s accompanied by a smile that reminds me of Mark. Smiles from security people fill me with warmth. They don’t tend to give those out very often - it serves their profession better to seem intimidating and unapproachable. Chi-Hoon’s smile is soft, so natural that I can’t imagine it not being there. And feels like support, a reminder that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

As Chi-Hoon drives, Jungkook's hand slides into mine. It happens so slowly I don’t even realise it is until his thumb is lightly caressing the back of my hand. There’s still an entire seat between us. More space than us entirely necessary in the privacy of the car and it’s tinted windows. Chi-Hoon and Mark are focusing pointedly on the road, fully aware of what they’re enabling. I squeeze Jungkook’s hand lightly, staring out the window. Even as we speed past the landmarks of my wasted years he grounds me. His warm hand and presence remind me that I’m not her anymore. Not a ghost, high on LSD, wondering if waiting for the traffic lights is worth it when there’s a car speeding towards me. Usually Mark avoids taking me this way, favouring main roads to save me from my memories. Chi-Hook doesn’t know to do that. And on a night like tonight - leaving the Grammy after party early with Jungkook beside me - side streets are a necessary evil. They’re a shield against prying eyes as much the tinted windows.

Our first stop is a Taco Bell, the one near Santa Monica Airport. I forget how big LA is. Even at this time it takes almost an hour to get here from the Staples Centre. Granted, taking the I-10 would have been quicker. But then again, I wouldn’t have gotten to spend an hour holding Jungkook’s hand and stealing blush glances at him with no repercussions. It’s hard not to look at him. There’s this ache in my chest that just calls out for the sight of him. I’m not looking forward to when tonight ends. Going back to texts and facetime calls feels impossible after knowing what the real thing is like.

“What’re you wantin’ Jeon?” Mark asks as we pull towards the drive thru window. I roll my eyes at the tone he’s taken, playing the role of intimidating father when mine is not around. He doesn’t ask what I want because I’ve been ordering the same thing on our midnight food adventures since I was twelve. Jungkook, however, clearly was not expecting this and looks like a deer in the headlights. It takes a second - as he works through the translation in his head - before he replies. I smile at his overly polite and respectful attitude towards Mark. Something that Mark is also enjoying. He takes so much joy from how people perceive him as intimidating - which is good for his chosen profession. In reality he is a golden retriever in human form. Or maybe a husky. I give Jungkook’s hand another squeeze. The way his entire demeanour changes in reply brings back that ache.

Once we have our food - and lots of napkins for me because no one wants to chance getting anything on my dress - Chi-Hoon begins driving again. This time the ride only lasts about fifteen minutes. A laugh bubbles out of me as we slow to a stop looking over Venice Beach, towards the bright lights of Santa Monica Pier. There’s still people about. There are always people about in LA. But there are considerably less than usual. All of them too caught up in their own worlds to notice Jungkook and I.

“You have an hour, use it well,” Chi-Hoon says, twisting round to face us again.

“There are blankets in the trunk, Maia will kill me if y’all get sand on that dress.”

Jungkook gets out first, walking around the car to get the blanket from the boot. I shuffle forward so I’m barely in the chair. Wrapping my arms around the chair and Mark, as far as I can reach, I say quietly;

“Thank you.” I punctuate it with a kiss to his cheek. Pulling back I continue, “but you know Maia is already going to kill you for enabling this, right?”

He shrugs.

“Worth it to see that smile.”

I don’t manage to exit the car gracefully. It’s too high up and my skirt too uncooperative. Jungkook gives me a hand, which stops me from falling over. The added factor of heels really doesn’t help. Why Mark couldn’t have at least sourced me a pair of trainers is beyond me. Jungkook doesn’t let go of my hand once I’m situated on solid ground. Instead he chooses to simply adjust the position so we can walk hand in hand. Before we step onto the sand I tug him over to a bench. Using one hand I fumble with the buckle of my heels. I’m not walking on sand in heels if I can help it. I carry them in my free hand as we finally step onto the sand.

We walk slowly; savouring the quiet and relishing the anonymity. It’s easy to pretend right now. To forget that this can’t be our reality. We shake out the blankets a few feet from the water’s edge. The tide is coming in, but we won’t be here long enough for it to touch us. I push aside the lurch in my chest that comes as I envision Jungkook and I’s future in a series of snatched moments. Now is not the time. I can’t plan the ending when we’ve only just begun. Instead I let Jungkook pull me down onto the blanket, situating me in his arms. His fingers begin to play with my hair, brushing out Digby’s carefully crafted curls. I hum, the sensation dissipating all tension from my body.

“What is your favourite colour,” Jungkook asks, in english after a moment.

“Yellow,” I reply easily. Jungkook nods, one of his hands going to play with the dandelion material of my dress. “Like honey yellow. What’s yours”

“Black.”

“That’s not a colour, it’s a shade,” I quip. Jungkook laughs, the pure joy of the sound feels like flying.

“You’re pretentious,” he replies, switching to Korean. I push myself up - immediately missing his warmth - to look at him incredulously.

“Really? I’m the pretentious one? Mr ‘my favourite colour is black’, ‘I only drink black coffee’ ‘I’m good a literally anything I try’?”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook laughs, guiding me back down. “You’re right, I'm the pretentious one.”

“Thank you.”

He smiles down at me, brushing the displaced hair off my face. I think he’s doing the same thing I am. Memorising this moment, so there’s something to hold onto when it's over. I want the image of him, bathed in moonlight and staring, like I’m the only thing in the world worth looking at - etched into the backs of my eyelids. Maybe even my soul. Of it’s own accord my hand comes up to trace his features, mapping his face. If this was a movie this would be one of those endlessly giffed moments. The camera would do a close up. The entire fifty foot screen devoted to the view of my fingers, the rose coloured nail polish and silver rings glinting in the moonlight, dancing over Jungkook’s perfect lips. One of those times in the cinema where you can barely breathe. My fingers glide back, tangling into his hair. Using that I bring him into a short kiss. I’ve been yearning to kiss him again since the bathroom. There’s something addictive about it. Being the person Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want to stop kissing. I let him go, this isn’t the best position for prolonged kissing. His eyes flutter open, a soft smile spreading across his face.

As our stolen hour comes to an end I’m sitting up right, leaning back into Jungkook’s chest. Our hands are intertwined inside the pocket of the hoodie. We’ve spent the last hour alternating between making out, like the make free teenagers we never got to be, and just talking. I never want it to end.

“Do you ever want to run away? Give it all up and just fade into obscurity,” I say, more to the moon than Jungkook. I’m not really looking for an answer. But I feel the vibrations in Jungkook’s chest as he hums his acknowledgement.

“Yeah, I’ll never do it. But I think about it a lot. I’ve got it all planned, have since I was about fifteen.”

“You want to tell me.”

“Okay, but you can’t go stealing it,” I joke, twisting to look at him. He laughs, tucking me closer to him. As I turn my face back to the sea he leans to rest his chin on my head. “There’s this town back home that my family used to spend summers in before I was ‘Aurora Kim-Wiseman, when I was just Rory. My mum used to go there as a kid with her family. It’s this little seaside town called Hopeman, barely more than a chip shop and the caravan park we used to stay in. Well, on the cliffs there’s this house with huge windows on the cliffs that’s been for sale on and off for years. I keep saying the next time it all gets too much I’m going to buy it, do it all up and just disappear. I’ll buy a dog, we’ll go on walks down the beach, and no one will know who I am. Or care.”

Jungkook presses a kiss to my head, mumbling into my hair;

“It sounds nice.”

“It is. The sun sets over the sands and sometimes, in the summer, you can see the northern lights. On clear days you can see across the Moray firth to Sutherland… Do you ever miss just getting to exist?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“But you can’t give it up.”

Not yet.”

“I know - me too,” I sigh, curling deeper into his arms.

I stand up first, holding my hand out to help Jungkook up. He doesn’t actually need help,I’ll just use any excuse to touch him. He’s apparently on the same page; taking this opportunity to steal a quick kiss from me. It becomes a pattern. As we fold the blanket each time we come together is punctuated with a kiss, and laughter at our antics. He draws me in for a deeper kiss after I pick up my shoes. One of those ones that make you feel like melting. That makes the whole world shrink down to just your fingers in their hair, their hand digging into your waist, the feeling of their thumbs skimming your rib cage. Just them.

We walk away slowly. I’m pressed into Jungkook’s side, my arms wrapped around his torso. His arm is slung over my shoulder, tucking me even closer so he can intermittently place absent kisses to my hair.

There are two black cars waiting on the street. This is where we say goodbye this time. I want to throw caution out the window, kiss him one last time under the street lamps. But it’s too risky, anyone could see and it would be both our careers on the line. So we stand a respectable distance apart.

“Best first date ever.” It comes out sadder than I thought it would. All longing mixed with already missing the past.

“I’ll take you on a real one next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Silence lulls over us for a second.

“I want to kiss you goodnight,” Jungkook says.

“Me too, I breathe. I close my eyes for a second and an idea comes to me. It’s from a tv show, I think, I can’t remember which one.

“Close your eyes,” I say, not opening mine. I wait for him to says he’s doing it before continuing, “Right, so, imagine that my hands are on your cheeks as I rise onto my tiptoes bringing you down so I can meet you halfway and kiss you. It’s soft and slow…”

“I’d rest my hands on your waist, pulling you closer because I can’t get enough. We’d draw back, I’d rest my forehead on yours and say something cliche and romantic like ‘I miss you already.’”

I can’t help the smile that drifts onto my face as I open my eyes.

“I miss you too.”

The smile Jungkook gives me is endlessly bittersweet. We part then, me to one car and him to the other. I curl up in the backseat, pulling Jungkook’s hoodie up to cover my head. Nestling into the smell of him mixed with ocean air I can already feel that ache in my chest. I catch Mark looking at me in the mirror.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, eh?” He winks. In reply I sink lower in the seat, mumbling,

“Refuse to believe you’ve read Romeo and Juliet.”

“Nope, Love the Baz Lurhmann film though,” he replies before pulling away from the kerb.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook fic #fic:esos

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livia-ackerman · 4 years ago

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the scouts during corona virus / headcannons

Levi Ackerman

ok I think we all know that Levi is a clean freak. Covid would probably be one of the worst things for him lmaooo 😭

he would always wear his mask properly outside, no matter where he is. He would probably put another 5 masks in his bag too, just in case

he would wash his hands everytime he touched something, he would even spray his self when he gets back home from somewhere

my boi levi hates germs. I imagine him carrying around hand sanitizers and disinfectant wipes so he can clean every surface

he would yell to strangers if they wore their mask in a wrong way or didn't keep their social distancing. Atleast 2 meters long lmao

and lastly, the only reason for Levi to go outside is food and of course cleaning supplies. He would have a bunch of masks and hand sanitizers kept in his house so he won't worry if he ever run out of them

Mikasa Ackerman

she wouldn't really care for herself but she would be really careful only because she doesn't want others to get ill, especially her friends

she would wash her hands everytime she got back home from outside and message ereh to remind him to wash his hands too

she wouldn't really care about the social distancing but if someone doesn't care about covid in general she would throw hands

and she would always make sure ereh is fine and carry an extra mask in case he forgets to take one on his own

Eren Jeager

he would probably wear his mask under his nose or forget to wash his hands because he doesn't have enough time to care about it lmao don't come at me

he wouldn't keep his social distances nor wear his mask properly and Levi would whoop his ass

but of course he doesn't t want his friends to get ill too so he is trying to be more careful around them and carry a hand sanitizer too

and of course he would be annoyed by mikasa's actions because he thinks that she is overreacting and that he can take care of his self

Jean Kirstein

he would most likely say that covid doesn't even exist lmao 😭 ok but i'm 100% sure that this is something he would say

he would always forget to wear a mask or wear it under his nose too, saying that he can't breathe easily

he wouldn't carry a hand sanitizer with him or anything else but he would wash his hands as much as he can because his friends scold him

he would also throw hands with Eren because others say that they are alike and he doesn't like being compared to the "suicidal maniac"

Sasha Braus

ok but i'm pretty sure that her mask would always be dirty from her food or she wouldn't wear a mask at all because she can't eat when she is wearing one

but when she is in a crowded place she would wear her mask properly because she cares for others and doesn't want them to get harmed in any way

she would always forget the hand sanitizer but mikasa has Sasha's back too

and lastly I believe that Sasha and Connie would have matching masks because they are besties lol

Connie Springer

he definitely doesn't know how to wear his mask or he wears it upside down

he would pour a lot of hand sanitizer in his hands for once saying that it's enough and his hands are clean enough

he would try to be very careful but he always gets distracted from something

he wouldn't care about social distancing and he would always be close to Sasha to make jokes or pull a prank

and as I said above, he would have matching masks with Sasha. Only then he would wear his mask properly because he wants to show off lol

Armin Arlert

Armin might not be a clean freak but he would be as careful as his captain

he would always carry extra masks for his friends because he cares about them

he would never wear his mask wrong, and would politely ask others to do that too

he is lowkey afraid of covid so he would try to mantain social distancing even from his friends too

he would carry a lot of hand sanitizers with him to make sure he is clean

Hange Zoe

oh damn this madwoman wouldn't even understand

there is no way she would wear a mask because she would always get distracted by something random and forget it

levi gets disgusted from her and scold her ofc or shout at her to get washed

she would most likely do experiments and bring ill people to her laboratory to examine them and find everything about it

moblit wouldn't be really satisfied by her actions because he is afraid of covid too and wants Hange to be safe but he wouldn't really mind, since he is always there to remind her to wash her hands

Erwin Smith

oof you should be ready for him giving a speech and theories about covid everyday

masks and disinfectant wipes are a must, never forgets to wash his hands

he would ask others politely to keep their distances like a gentleman

he would try to stay home as much as he can but my man gotta jog atleast once a day or else he will go feral lol

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pi-creates · 4 years ago

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What do you think is the best storyline/conflict that the game has ever given us, and what do you think was the worse? (in terms of how entertaining and well done it was)

I’ve been thinking on this one for a while, and I’m still struggling, so forgive me if this is just a ramble. A lot of the conflicts just don’t feel as consistent as our “goals”, ya know? Like, I find it hard to differentiate between what would be considered a storyline conflict, and what would be just another hurdle considering how quickly the drama can be moved on from. Semantics, maybe, but it makes things fuzzy for me.

When I think of the best storyline, the one that jumps out at me is still the entirety of season 1 episode 2 - Starved for Help. It is a complete arc that delivers a multitude of moral quandaries before ending on a note that the repercussions of what happened aren’t so easily forgotten. Lilly’s mental state is destroyed, Kenny’s connection to the rest of the group is either shattered or reinforced with an iron grip, and your humanity is in question after how you dealt with your allies, enemies, and an unseen other who’s ill fortune can be your gain. Everything here is heavy, ominous, and still satisfying when the conflict passes.

And so much happens, some of which is easily forgotten but it all comes back around to make the bigger picture more complete. That bear trap at the start could just seem like an excuse to add more to the cast, but then we see it’s a sign of how far the St John’s reach actually stretches. Clem’s missing hat and Jolene start as a weird tangent of a stranger being too close for comfort, which works well enough as foreshadowing to the progress of the season, but it also gives us more seeds of doubt when she too seems involved in this conflict between the St John’s and the bandits. And then the final choice - are you bigger than that? Are you going to be the random person in the woods prepared to take something meant for someone else’s child for your own? Because we should remember how that looks, to see something that belongs to someone we are meant to protect in the hands of someone else - someone who has their own bigger story that we won’t ever know.

I like all of that. The one negative would be that Mark is introduced as a character we are meant to at least be mildly familiar with, but also not so familiar that he can die. I don’t like that part - I kinda feel like it would have been more interesting if Travis survived the intro and they used him in Mark’s place... but ya know, flesh him out more. I don’t feel like greater familiarity (though a false familiarity) with Mark actually made his end any more horrifying - it’s still horrifying even if that person is new to the group.

As for worst... I think the big problem here is that I think the worst conflict the game could present would be one I don’t remember. That would be the ultimate failure of a storyline. So I feel like whatever I say here is still not that bad since it clearly still left enough of an impact for me to remember it.

I’m literally trying to think of what storyline has left me wondering “why did that even matter?” the most. And I think for me that’s the entirety of the time spent at Howe’s Hardware in season 2. I don’t feel like anything I did there mattered... at all.

It is a plot point, but it doesn’t feel like an interactive one like it should in this particular game series. And the conflict itself doesn’t feel all that fun to me. Maybe it’s a pacing issue, I’m not sure, but it didn’t feel desperate enough to me to be satisfied when a problem is overcome. Also, a lot of the additional hurdles in this part of the story occur because people behave stupidly. Mistakes or miscalculations are good hurdles to prolong the escape plan, but instead it feels like someone did something stupid for the sole purpose of adding more drama. That’s not fun, that’s tedious and adds an element of frustration because an 11 year old has more sense than any of them.

Though this is another one of those issues where I think a big part of me feeling that way is because I expected so much from this location. My own imagination saw so many ways we could deal with being held captive, and all the pitfalls of either being too cooperative or combative to the force keeping us there. But there wasn’t deviations, so I was left underwhelmed and wondering why this entire section wasn’t just a cutscene with QTEs and no illusion of choice. Like... the only choice here that I feel makes any impact is the one where you can choose to watch Carver die - and that isn’t story impact so much as a theoretical impact on Clem’s psyche that is on the player’s shoulders to interpret.

So while I don’t necessarily think this storyline is completely awful (it does serve a purpose for the plot), it is still unsatisfying to me in terms of the way it’s told and how it plays.

#twdg talk #i really did struggle with this one #i don't usually think of things as best or worst #more just 'like' and 'dislike' without tiers #so it's hard to make distinctions

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zintranslations · 4 years ago

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Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 54

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Link to ongoing Taida Translations

Chapter 54: The Sixth Door

A few months later, Lin Qiushi was to face his own sixth door.

He thought that like last time, Ruan Nanzhu would have him pass it with Cheng Qianli, who was on door six himself. However, Ruan Nanzhu intentionally separated them this time.

Though he didn’t know why, Lin Qiushi didn’t ask further, trusting that Ruan Nanzhu had his own logic.

With about ten days left, Cheng Qianli received his own clue. Typically, everybody helped to research the clue, but this time was an exception. Cheng Qianli’s clue was kept secret from everybody in the mansion, known only to himself and his brother.

Cheng Qianli became rather cheery after he got his clue. When Lin Qiushi asked what he was so giddy about, Cheng Qianli replied, “hehehe, my brother told me not to tell.”

Lin Qiushi, “...” Even though Cheng Qianli was foolish sometimes, he still listened to his brother about important matters.

Once Cheng Qianli was done giggling, he said to Lin Qiushi, “After I come out, I’ll tell you in private. Have you gotten your clue?”

Lin Qiushi shook his head, “not yet.” Ruan Nanzhu had yet to give him anything, and seemed to be contemplating something.

Cheng Qianli, “you got Ruan-ge with you, so don’t worry, nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Mh.” Lin Qiushi nodded. “Good luck to us both then.”

“Good luck.” Cheng Qianli just kept grinning in shameless glee.

A few more days passed before Lin Qiushi finally got the clue to his own door. This time the clue was simple: the slender shadow.

“What’s this?” Lin Qiushi asked upon first receiving the clue, confused, “some kind of legend?”

“It’s a foreign urban legend,” Ruan Nanzhu replied. “People also call it Slenderman, have you heard of it?”

Lin Qiushi thought a bit before nodding, “vaguely.” He thought he’d seen a movie of the sort.

Ruan Nanzhu tossed him a file.

“Take a look first. There's not a lot, but it’s better than nothing.”

Lin Qiushi began looking through the file.

The file recorded in detail this slender ghostly shadow. It was a Western urban legend about a kind of humanoid monster with long thin limbs and no face. With spindly arms and legs, this monster looked somewhat like a human spider. It appeared in rural spaces or small towns and preyed primarily on children left on their own. Of course, it attacked adults as well. The children it targeted simply disappeared, but the adults would start manifesting odd symptoms, like nosebleeds, nightmares, and even seeing their own worst fears.

The file continued to describe Slenderman's distinct methods of killing, such as spearing people on tree branches and bleeding them to death. They also liked removing people's organs and putting them in plastic bags… Regardless, urban legends like these were terrifying enough in real life, for more faint-hearted people, not to mention inside the world of the doors.

Lin Qiushi quickly finished reading and thought that was all the prepwork needed. To his surprise, Ruan Nanzhu suddenly said they were going shopping for clothes.

Lin Qiushi, bewildered, “for clothes? What clothes?”

Ruan Nanzhu smiled, “clothes for you to wear inside.”

Under the pitying gazes of everybody else in the mansion, a still-befuddled Lin Qiushi left for the mall with Ruan Nanzhu. The first few items were still normal men's clothes, but then they came to the women’s section…

Ruan Nanzhu, who was obviously used to this, announced he was buying clothes for his girlfriend. His gaze, however, surveyed Lin Qiushi.

Lin Qiushi didn’t understand at first, and asked like a fool, “Nanzhu, you have a girlfriend?”

Ruan Nanzhu, "no."

Lin Qiushi, “then why are you buying women’s clothes?”

Ruan Nanzhu, “I’m not buying, you are.”

Lin Qiushi, “but I don’t have a girlfriend either…”

Ruan Nanzhu, walking up front with a few bags, turned.

“It’s for you to wear. What girlfriend.”

Lin Qiushi’s brain bluescreened for three whole seconds. When he finally comprehended what was going on, shock and fear entered his eyes.

“Me? Wear?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "yes, you."

Lin Qiushi, “But— Can I wear them when I look like this—”

Ruan Nanzhu’s expression went strange, “what do you think you look like?”

Lin Qiushi, “just a regular guy."

Sinking into silence, Ruan Nanzhu’s gaze on Lin Qiushi went stranger and stranger. Goosebumps rising from that gaze, Lin Qiushi forewent further questions and obediently followed him back to the mansion.

Three days later, Ruan Nanzhu plucked Lin Qiushi out of hiding from his room and made him change his clothes.

Lin Qiushi, who had been an office worker for some time, couldn’t be said to be particularly fit. He had an average male physique, with features that were nonaggressive and clean: double-lidded eyes that weren’t too big with a pretty smile. Ruan Nanzhu sat Lin Qiushi down and began taking out makeup tools.

Lin Qiushi’s eyes went wide with trepidation. “Nanzhu… Can we talk?”

Ruan Nanzhu, “talk about what?”

Lin Qiushi asked faintly, “can we not do this?”

Ruan Nanzhu was expressionless. “Didn’t you ask if I really liked crossdressing so much? Rather me explain, why don’t you just experience it yourself?” His eyes narrowed with a fake-looking smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you once we’re inside.”

Lin Qiushi nearly cried.

He knew none of the makeup items before him, and felt only Ruan Nanzhu rubbing and patting all these things on his face. So much time passed that he was nearly asleep when Ruan Nanzhu finally straightened and patted off his hands. "Done."

Lin Qiushi, "....."

Ruan Nanzhu handed a mirror to Lin Qiushi.

“Take a look, then pick a hairstyle you like.”

Lin Qiushi took the mirror, and was a bit dazed by what he saw: a woman’s face. “She” wasn’t astonishingly beautiful, but was certainly attractive enough to draw the eye. This face was gentle and the expression ill-treated, inspiring pity and sympathy.

Lin Qiushi couldn’t help himself, and declared, fuck.

“Dirty mouth on a lady,” Ruan Nanzhu said. “Do you like long or short hair?”

Lin Qiushi, “long…” He meant he liked long-haired girls, but Ruan Nanzhu just picked up a wig and began putting it on him.

Lin Qiushi, "....."

Once that was done, Ruan Nanzhu began finishing up the last details. He probably planned for Lin Qiushi to wear a dress at first, but upon seeing Lin Qiushi’s expression of utter terror—he looked on the verge of fainting—relented on this kind of shock for Lin Qiushi’s first time. The end outfit was fairly unisex.

Once it was forced onto him, Lin Qiushi only wanted to turn and run—he’d learned his lesson about running his mouth.

Everything was finally ready, and Ruan Nanzhu examined the person before him with a satisfied expression. Lin Qiushi wasn't the chiseled sort of handsome, but rather a mellow and personable sort, which meant makeup could easily smooth out the more discordant details. Paired with Lin Qiushi's gentle nature, it actually all came together quite finely.

"I have to wear this?" Faced with the big man himself, Lin Qiushi couldn't exactly express a temper. He could only attempt to pitifully plead, "Nanzhu, I know I was wrong. Can't we..."

Ruan Nanzhu lifted a brow.

"No."

Lin Qiushi, "....."

Lin Qiushi, "but I don't know how to speak in a fake voice." Ruan Nanzhu's voice inside the doors was slightly unisex, but definitely did not ping as boy.

Ruan Nanzhu, "so practice."

Lin Qiushi, "I only have ten days or so..."

Ruan Nanzhu's insincere smile: "Take your time, there's no rush. We have plenty more opportunities in the future. This time though, if you can't talk, you can always pretend to be mute."

Lin Qiushi, "....."

Ruan Nanzhu tapped his finger against the table. "A frail and fragile mute girl, isn't that an interesting character?"

Lin Qiushi, "....." Tan Zaozao, come get the man for your entertainment circle, and the next Oscar was sure to go to China.

After saying what he did, Ruan Nanzhu still provided Lin Qiushi a "generous" second option: if you don't want to play a mute girl, you can always play a man with a passion for crossdressing.

In the end, Lin Qiushi, not wanting to field odd looks, still opted to play mute.

Because of the outfit, Lin Qiushi had to bear the ridicule of others in the mansion.

"Hahahaha Lin Qiushi, so you've come to this too." Cheng Qianli was the most impertinent. "But you actually look good like this, much better than Chen Fei."

Lin Qiushi, "hah?"

Chen Fei glowered from the side. "Fuck if you're one to talk, Cheng Qianli. Looked in a mirror recently?"

Cheng Qianli, "hmph, I'd be drop dead gorgeous as a girl."

Ruan Nanzhu, "oh yeah?"

Cheng Qianli, upon hearing Ruan Nanzhu's voice, did a full-body shudder. "No no no, Ruan-ge, I'm only kidding."

Ruan Nanzhu peered once at him, then sat down at the table. "How are preparations with your brother then?"

Cheng Qianli, "good, actually." He took a bite. "This next world seems pretty easy."

Ruan Nanzhu only hummed in response, and didn't ask any follow-up questions. He seemed confident enough in Cheng Yixie—Lin Qiushi just didn't know what the argument he overheard on the rooftop the other day was about.

Considering his personality, no matter what, Cheng Yixie didn't seem the type to easily get into arguments with people.

But in the end, Lin Qiushi didn't figure any of this out, because the time to enter the door quickly arrived.

Ten odd days later on a random afternoon, Lin Qiushi had been snacking in the living room with Cheng Qianli, but after eating and eating, he turned around and suddenly found Cheng Qianli gone without a trace.

His first thought was to wonder if Cheng Qianli had gone to the bathroom. After a while without Cheng Qianli returning however, he realized Cheng Qianli had probably gone into the doors.

About half an hour later, Cheng Qianli suddenly reappeared on the sofa.

His face was awfully pale and he clutched at his chest, sucking in deep breaths. Seeing him like this, Lin Qiushi quickly asked, "are you alright? Qianli?"

Glancing once at Lin Qiushi in panic, Cheng Qianli bolted for the stairs without a word.

Seeing him so distressed, Lin Qiushi hastily followed.

Cheng Qianli went straight for Cheng Yixie's bedroom door, twisting the knob without bothering to knock.

The door opened to reveal Cheng Yixie, having just returned as well, sitting on the bed. He was still mostly expressionless, looking up at the agitated Cheng Qianli.

"What?"

"Ge—" Cheng Qianli threw himself onto Cheng Yixie, clutching on for dear life. "I thought you didn't make it, I thought you didn't make it—"

Cheng Yixie didn't reply, only patted at Cheng Qianli's back with a gentle hand to calm his brother.

Cheng Qianli seemed to have been well and truly terrified; his face was still colorless, and looked much worse off than Cheng Yixie.

The brothers stayed in the embrace for a little while, until emotions have settled. Slightly embarrassed, Cheng Qianli wriggled himself out of his brother's lap and scratched his nose. "I'm hungry. Gonna go eat something."

Cheng Yixie didn't stop him, and watched him go.

Once everything seemed fine, Lin Qiushi made to leave as well, but Cheng Yixie's voice suddenly came behind him: "Lin Qiushi, if anything happens to me, will you help Cheng Qianli?"

Lin Qiushi startled.

"Never mind," Cheng Yixie said. "Go on."

With that he closed the door, not giving Lin Qiushi an opportunity to respond.

Honestly, the usual Cheng Yixie didn't seem anything like a sixteen year old. He tended to be cool and calm, a lot like Ruan Nanzhu. Perhaps this sixth door really had been a close call, to have provoked him to say something like that.

Lin Qiushi felt an inexplicable ache in his chest.

Back in the living room, Cheng Qianli had started on the snacks again, but he didn't seem to be enjoying them at all. He looked thoroughly exhausted.

Lin Qiushi asked after him for a bit, and found out the world they'd gone into this time was a medieval post-war battlefield. There really had been some close calls.

Fortunately, they'd managed to escape in the end.

"My brother and I both have a genetic disorder," Cheng Qianli spoke as he snacked. This was news to Lin Qiushi. "We can't do sports, and when it's really serious, we can barely walk. The doctor says neither of us will live past eighteen."

Lin Qiushi listened.

"Then my brother entered the doors first," Cheng Qianli said. "His illness got better… Then I went in too." Scratching his head, he laughed, "sometimes I think, that the doors aren't really scary at all. Without them, we wouldn't have been able to lead normal lives, or live at all. We've already got more than our fair share."

Lin Qiushi said, "don't think like that. There are more days ahead of you."

"Yeah, more ahead." Cheng Qianli's gaze suddenly seemed lost. "And I don't know at all how I'll end my life."

This was hard to listen to. It was in this moment that Lin Qiushi fully realized that everybody in the mansion was dying. Some were emotionally prepared, some weren't, but there was no exception—they'd all caught on their breaths the scent of death.

"Good luck on your next door." Cheng Qianli stood. "I'm going to rest for a bit, I'm exhausted…"

And when he yawned, Lin Qiushi nodded and watched him go.

Probably because he had nothing in particular to cling to, Lin Qiushi could enter the doors with relative calm; he would take death, but he'd also happily welcome each rebirth.

Lin Qiushi's door and Cheng Qianli's weren't that far apart; the midnight after Cheng Qianli returned, Lin Qiushi started awake in his bed, left his room, and walked out into the hallway with those twelve metal doors once more.

The first five metal doors were sealed off, and the seventh onward all could not be opened. Only the sixth door allowed Lin Qiushi to pull it open with ease.

After the familiar spinning, Lin Qiushi found himself on a paved pathway. It was empty all around the path, with only a black sign pointing forward, on which was written the blurry text: Throughwaters Village

It was chilly, and Lin Qiushi wrapped his clothes tight around himself before starting forward. The path was wide and swathed in thick fog. After about six to seven minutes, a human silhouette finally came into view. The figure was familiar. Lin Qiushi's eyes lit up the moment he saw it, and called out, "Mengmeng—"

The person turned. The face was a stranger's but the disposition was not. He asked, "candy?"

Lin Qiushi, "love it, can't get enough. I like mint and strawberry flavored ones."

He replied, "I don't like them, because I've got an ache in my fourth tooth."

With the secret signal and each other's identities confirmed, Lin Qiushi could finally sigh in relief. He said, "I didn't think we'd find each other so early… Hang on, why are you dressed as a guy?" His eyes went wide.

Ruan Nanzhu replied, "did I say I was going to dress up with you?"

Lin Qiushi, "....."

Ruan Nanzhu put a finger to his lips and smiled. "A mute person can't speak so much."

Lin Qiushi didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Can't I…"

“No." Ruan Nanzhu already knew what he was going to ask and heartlessly refused. "Be a good girl now."

Lin Qiushi, "....." Giving his hair a tug, he discovered that the wig did in fact become real hair, and for some reason, his height inside the door this time was shorter than usual.

"Come on, let's go find the others first." Ruan Nanzhu scanned their surroundings. "This fog's all kinds of irritating."

So the two headed onward.

Walking behind Ruan Nanzhu, Lin Qiushi discretely snuck a glance inside his pants. He exhaled in relief when the important bits were all still there.

Thankfully, it was only the hair that changed and nothing else, or he’d have found himself gone catatonic about it.

They kept going ahead, until finally different scenery grew visible: a ragged little town emerged from the fog before them. This town had clear Western influences, but most of the signs were still in Chinese.

Suddenly curious, Lin Qiushi asked, "have you ever ended up somewhere foreign?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "sure, aren't we in one now?"

Lin Qiushi said, "but the signs are Chinese."

Ruan Nanzhu, "they probably factored in people's standard cultural knowledge and figured sticking with Chinese was best." He glanced at Lin Qiushi. "After all, some people can't even read that."

Lin Qiushi knew Ruan Nanzhu was teasing him for pretending to be illiterate in the last door, and could only mutter awkwardly, "those were extenuating circumstances though…"

They walked into the town and found a group of people gathered in the small village square.

With a single sweeping glance, Ruan Nanzhu was able to count, "eight."

Lin Qiushi was already getting into character, and didn't reply.

Emerging from the fog, the two drew some attention. Some eyes fell on the stunning Ruan Nanzhu, but some even fell on Lin Qiushi.

The current Lin Qiushi had long hair and, due to being shorter, an apparently frail frame underneath the clothes. He was also pale and seemed a bit frightened, looking up at Ruan Nanzhu with dark eyes wide with helplessness—or at least that's what it looked like to outsiders. The reality was…

Lin Qiushi: fuck, fuck me, they're all staring at me.

Ruan Nanzhu: let them stare, what's the harm.

Lin Qiushi: what if they discover I'm a guy?

Ruan Nanzhu: whip the big guy out and scare them all to death.

Lin Qiushi: .....

And after the above transpired through nothing but meaningful eye contact, Lin Qiushi knew there was nothing more he could say.

Somebody was approaching. Probably because Ruan Nanzhu seemed harder to get along with, the person's attention completely targeted the poor, weak, and helpless-looking Lin Qiushi.

Before Lin Qiushi even had time to react, Ruan Nanzhu extended a hand to halt the person in his tracks. "Yeah?”

"Nothing." He was a handsome young man in his twenties, clad in a stylish outfit, and he seemed very interested in Lin Qiushi. "I just wanted to ask if you two needed some help."

"I don't think she can talk." Staring the guy down, Ruan Nanzhu blockaded himself in front of Lin Qiushi.

"Can't talk?" That person seemed even more interested now, and said, "Hi, I'm Wang Tianxin."

Ruan Nanzhu, "Lu Meng."

Seeing Ruan Nanzhu's protectiveness, Wang Tianxin smiled.

"Do you two know each other then?"

Ruan Nanzhu said, "no, but meeting the moment we entered feels a bit fated, doesn't it."

Lin Qiushi fished out his phone and typed: I'm Yu Qiuqiu, it's a pleasure to meet you both.

They both read the text on Lin Qiushi's phone screen, and Wang Tianxin said, "oh, so you're called Yu Qiuqiu. That's a cute name." He was a bit shorter than Ruan Nanzhu, and bent forward now with a friendly expression. "I'm Wang Tianxin, and if you'd like, I think we can try to be friends."

Lin Qiushi pretended to be a bit frightened, and ducked slightly behind Ruan Nanzhu. To be so solicitous without cause, the man was sure to peddle treachery or crime; Wang Tianxin's eager friendliness toward complete strangers obviously had ulterior motives. And though Lin Qiushi wasn't scared, he also wasn't stupid enough to step right into some kind of plot.

Ruan Nanzhu also didn't bother to be cordial: "she seems scared of you. Why don't you stay away from her."

Wang Tianxi looked at Ruan Nanzhu, but then actually turned and walk away.

Lin Qiushi didn't anticipate him giving up so easily, but Ruan Nanzhu let out a cold laugh—he seemed to have guessed Wang Tianxin's intentions.

The team of people for this round gradually gathered.

There were two newcomers again, both male this time. One appeared steady enough, but the other had completely broken down, crying and wailing the whole way here.

Fortunately, aside from all the crying, the new guy didn't do anything too extreme.

After giving up on Lin Qiushi, that Wang Tianxin quickly found himself another girl. In just a short amount of time, that girl and Wang Tianxin seemed to have grown very close, chatting and laughing with good cheer.

Lin Qiushi peered at Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu knew what he wanted to ask, and replied under his breath, "there's always that kind of people inside the doors. They like finding teammates. Of course, the teammates aren't just good for teamwork, and can be good for something else as well."

Lin Qiushi: such as?

Ruan Nanzhu just watched him. His smile was meaningful, but he said nothing further.

Lin Qiushi was shocked into understanding by that smile.

Wang Tianxin was clearly an expert of this way, and found his targets with precision. Upon gathering, he approached delicate-looking women with care and concern, easily winning their trust.

And Lin Qiushi, a woman with a disability, was even more clearly his type. It was only because Ruan Nanzhu got in his way that he had to change targets.

Ruan Nanzhu said, "you better follow me closely, and don't get hoodwinked by others."

Lin Qiushi shot him a glare, and thought so what if he was hoodwinked, he'd only have to whip off the skirt and compare sizes a bit...

Author's Note

Ruan Nanzhu: there's no way we're not getting a show, if I don't act someone else has to.

Lin Qiushi: .....

[Ch. 53] | [Ch. 55]

#kaleidoscope of death #cnovel #xi zixu #chinese translation #i'm doing these for practice it's so fucking funny #it's also fascinating to see translations side by side for comparison

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soprano193 · 4 years ago

Text

Not a Couple

Chapter 4

Constance:

"Maura, no!" Her cry made her seven-year-old jump, her hand rapidly retreating from the still hot curling iron that rested on the bathroom counter. "What are you thinking? Do you want to hurt yourself?"

Maura's eyes welled up, her hands knotted in front of her stomach. "I wanted my hair to look like yours." Her head fell, her eyes looking at the floor. It made Constance's heart break.

Walking forward, she attempted to soften her tone, plugging in the curling iron and tapping her child on the shoulder. "Next time, just ask for help." It was more blunt than she meant, but in the long run, was a lesson Maura needed to learn. "I would be happy to help you curl your hair like mine." The iron on a low heat setting, she wrapped a section of honey blonde hair around the barrel. Maura's hair curled easier than hers, so it didn't take long for her to have loose ringlets bouncing on her shoulders. Maura was quiet the entire time Constance fiddled with her hair, her hands tapping a rhythm on the sides of her legs. When Constance was satisfied, she turned Maura towards her, twirling the last ringlet around her finger. "All done. Now go pick out a dress."

Maura's hands came up to touch the navy blue strap of her mother's dress. "Is this what you're wearing?"

"Yes. Now go pick out your dress, we don't have much time." This spurred the young girl into action, and she dashed from the bathroom, her feet hitting the floor with a heavy thud as she ran down the hall.

As Maura frantically dressed, Constance switched over her purse and spoke on the phone with the gallery director, apologizing for the need to bring her daughter. "She is very well behaved, you won't even notice she is there." The woman on the other end seemed annoyed, but consented to the added person. As if Constance had any control over the nanny falling ill, or her husband's busy schedule. She yelled down the hall for her daughter one last time. "Maura! We need to leave, now!"

"Coming, Mother!" After a few moments, the young girl appeared in a navy blue dress of her own, and little pink heels. Her dress had short sleeves, and buttons down the front, but the color matched Constance's almost exactly.

"Maura, dear, what happened to your black shoes?"

The you girl's shoulders dropped and she shuffled her feet. "They don't fit. I know I don't match." It was futile to ask her to put on a pink dress instead. She wanted to match her mother, not her shoes, and they were running late.

Constance let out a sigh, but beckoned her daughter to come closer. "Regardless, we don't have time for you to change. Come along." Her daughter grinned, and clomped along behind her, reaching a hand out to walk with her mother.

Art installations always put Constance out of her mind. There was a lot going on, many people to talk to, pieces to sell, and she always seemed to lose track of time. Thankfully, Maura managed to stay close, always within reach, yet silent for the most part. She had always been a shy child, and large groups of strangers could make her anxious. So she stayed close to the one person she knew, and focused on the art pieces she could see.

When the event started to die down, Constance placed her hands on Maura's shoulders and looked up at the piece she was admiring. It almost reached the ceiling, with splatters of red, green, and orange prominently featured. "What do you think of this one, dear?"

The girl leaned back into her mother. "I like it."

"Why?"

There was a moment of silence before she answered. "The colors. They make me happy."

Before Constance could answer, someone walked behind them and tapped her on the shoulder. "Can I get a photo for the newspaper?"

Both of them turned, Constance nodding in the affirmative before walking towards better lighting. "Of course. Maura, stand right there for a moment, dear."

The photographer flashed a soft smile and addressed the girl, who tried her best to put on a brave face as she stood alone. "Hi, sweetie. Do you want to be in the picture with your Mom?" Maura nodded, but waited for her mother to hold out her hands. Constance knelt down and put her arm around Maura's back, careful not to crush her curls. "Beautiful!" The photographer gushed as she sapped a few photos. "Beautiful like your Mama."

"You think I look like her?" The seven year old beamed, turning to face her mother with excitement.

"Absolutely. You even dressed alike." The photographer grinned as she lowered her camera. "I used to dress like my Mom, too." She turned her attention to Constance. "I can get one of just you, if you'd like."

"I think what you have will do. Thank you." She rubbed her hand in circles on Maura's back, who was still beaming from the photographer's compliment.

"She said I look like you, Mom." Her body thrummed with energy. She didn't hear it too often. Most often they guessed that Maura must take after her father, when in reality, she didn't look like him either.

Constance twirled a loosening ringlet around her fingers, meeting Maura's eyes with pride. "She did." She took her daughter's hand in hers. "It's time to head home."

"You aren't usually the type for nostalgia, Connie." Her husband's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, the newspaper clipping of her and a young Maura dropping back into the box. He sat at the table next to her, picking up a picture at random. "I don't remember this one." He passed it over to her, looking for an explanation. Here, Maura was around four, a handful of weeds in her hands, the strap of her yellow dress falling off her shoulder.

"I don't remember this one, either." It pained her to admit it, but she didn't remember a lot of the photos that were currently spread on their dining room table. "I think that the Nanny might have taken this." She moved the photo to the left and picked up another. Maura with bulky safety glasses on, her Halloween costume when she was nine. She laughed as she passed it to Arthur, making a note to put it aside.

"I don't remember this either." His voice was quiet as he sat it down.

"You aren't the only one that missed her life, Arthur." She picked up another unrecognizable picture, with a two-year-old Maura dancing toward the camera. "But we can be there for her now." She reached for that picture with the safety goggles, placing it in a small pile with similar photos.

"So what brought all this on?" Arthur had started gathering piles of photos, leaning back in the dining room chair as he looked at each one.

"Maura's friend, Jane, sent me an email. She needs pictures of Maura as a child, with a preference for 'especially geeky and sciency pictures, please'. I think she said something about a slideshow for a party." Jane was a frequent subject as she worked on reconnecting with her daughter. Maura was always describing some new joke Jane told, or filling her in on the latest Jane gossip. It was clear the woman was a big part of their daughter's life. "You would like Jane, I think. She's very direct, a straight shooter, but very protective and understanding of Maura. They're a good fit." She grabbed her husband's hand, shot him a knowing glance, and pulled the photo of Maura with a ribbon from the science fair off the top of his pile.

It seemed to take a moment for Arthur to get it, but when he did, his eyes widened and he lowered his pile of pictures. "Wait. You don't think…"

"I do."

His brows furrowed as he processed the information. "But she never showed any indication that she might be interested in females."

Constance let out a breath as she picked up her own pile. "I'm not sure that's true." At his puzzled expression, she continued. "Do you remember when Maura came home for her first Thanksgiving break? We were all sitting for dinner, and Maura was going on and on about Biology." She could picture it perfectly, Arthur at the head of the table with a journal open as they ate, while she tried to dab at a cranberry stain on the front of her shirt. Maura was looking in Arthur's direction as she spoke. "She was rattling off facts about all the species they had seen homosexual relationships in. Mammals, birds, fish, she had an example for just about everything. And I made a mistake." Arthur raised his eyebrows, his pile lowering completely as he gave her his full attention. "I asked her what she was trying to tell us. And it came out so harsh, I think she thought we wouldn't approve." Maura protected herself the only way she knew how. She shut down the topic, moving to something else, refusing to be swayed. "I have found out from a source that Maura experimented in college, and she may not have hated it."

"Is that source Jane?"

This made Constance chuckle. "No, Jane doesn't tell me anything Maura doesn't want me to know. Jane's mother told me."

"Wait, how does Jane's mother fit into all of this?"

Constance put her pile of photos down, focusing on her husband. "Angela lives with Maura. They have a good relationship." A relationship she was envious of. But she was trying to do better. "Every time I see her, I try to drop hints about how open-minded I can be, but she isn't picking up on them."

This had Arthur laughing, his baritone bouncing off the walls. "You can't drop hints with Maura, Connie. You have to ask her directly."

"Well how do you suggest I do that? 'Angela told me about your ex-girlfriend, Sam, and now I want to talk with you about her?'"

"Sam?" He stopped laughing, eyes wide, and grabbed her hand. "She talked about Sam, I remember that."

"She talked about Sam in very gender neutral terms. And then stopped, probably whenever they broke up."

They both took some time to take it all in. Constance started putting the photos she wasn't sending Jane back into the box. Arthur's voice made her pause. "Has she dated other women since then? I feel like I've heard about a few guys."

"I don't know."

Arthur started adding photos to the box, looking at a few of them along the way. "What makes you think she is interested in Jane that way?"

She took her time to answer, thinking about what she had noticed as they worked toward rebuilding their relationship. "Well, she trusts Jane completely. And they understand each other. Both drop everything for each other, Maura even cancelled a night out with me because Jane needed her. And you know what I learned from that Thanksgiving night all those years ago?"

"I think you'll tell me."

"I learned how to listen to Maura. Really listen. To watch her face when she talks, to figure out the meaning behind her words. And I'm telling you, she has deep feelings for Jane."

Her husband was silent, holding onto the last picture, his eyes fixated on the young woman speaking at her high school graduation. "So what's the next step?"

"Keep up with her, regain her trust. I hope one day she can talk to me the same way she can talk to Angela, or Jane." Arthur regarded her answer with a nod of his head. He rose from the table and walked toward the front door. "Where are you going?"

He returned a half minute later with his briefcase, and pulled his phone out of the side pocket. "I'm going to reach out. I want to be around when she tells you."

Maura didn't answer. She hadn't spoken to Arthur in years, and never wanted to talk to Constance about it. But he was making an effort, as was she. It gave her some hope that their relationship would mend along the way.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #rizzles fanfic #my fic #not a couple #I'm super late posting these chapters wow

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aseriesofvariousevents · 4 years ago

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The Legend Series

The Legend Series is yet another series I received for Christmas years ago and never finished. This break, though, I finished it in what quite possibly could be a PR for time it took me to read a series. I started the books on a Friday evening and was done with the series by Sunday afternoon. Marie Lu wrote a riveting saga of strength with characters wholly unafraid to stand for what they believe in.

*SPOILERS*

The first book in the series, Legend, is a strong start, though not perfect. I’ve technically read this book twice before, once as a physical book and the other as an audiobook during a long car ride, so I may be overly critical of my reading this time around, since I don’t typically re-read books, but I found parts of the story to be unnecessary. This may just be coming from my perspective as an “older reader” instead of a young teen, but I found Marie Lu did the characters a disservice by making them 15. The age itself is fine hypothetically, but the emphasis on the romance at times, especially toward the end, felt forced between the two characters and I think, at this point in the series, it would’ve made more sense for them to be just friends. I thought the author wrote June’s loss of innocence surrounding the world she grew up in very well and I truly felt for the girl who had to watch her world crumble around her, bit by bit. I did appreciate the Les Miserables analogy throughout the story, with the June realizing that there may be more to Day than she thought. I also enjoyed Tess’s characters and, briefly, Metias’s, though I found Tess to be a bit one-dimensional at times. Overall, I found the book enjoyable and thought it was a good start to an interesting series.

Favorite Quote: Each day means a new twenty-four hours. Each day means everything's possible again. You live in the moment, you die in the moment, you take it all one day at a time.

I found Prodigy to be an improvement overall from the first book (not that the first book was inherently bad in any way), but I still had some gripes with some of the plots Lu chose to explore. I really enjoyed the politics aspect of this book, with Anden’s utter desperateness to succeed as a ruler and the double crossing of the Patriots by Razor, lying about who is funding this assassination. I had a feeling Razor was not the character he was believed to be for a while, but I never put two and two together that it was the Republic behind the scheme, but when Kaede explained everything, it all made sense, which I found to be a really cool plot point. Once again, the romance in this book frustrated me to no end. The romance between the deceased Metias and Thomas seemed more like a throwaway gay couple than anything of significance, especially since Lu did not explore their relationship as anything other than friendship in the first book, with Thomas even flirting with June (though it was implied that that was all a ruse to keep her safe, but I found that a feeble excuse). It was intended to make us feel worse for Thomas and the “sacrifice” he made for duty, but it instead just made me more sad for Metias. Tess’s sudden love for Day seemed super random as well, especially since they were basically surrogate siblings for each other for years, and, at the end, June’s and Day’s break-up of sorts seemed overly formal for being fifteen-year-olds who had only known each other for a month or so. Prodigy was definitely a page turner, but aspects were still frustrating to get through as a reader.

Favorite Quote: My heart is ripped open, shredded, leaking blood. I can't let him leave like this. We've been through to much to turn into strangers.

Champion was a satisfying conclusion to the series (though I haven’t read Rebel yet, the newest book in the series). Eden’s character was sweet and it was exciting to see him as an actual character for the first time, and not just a sick child that Day constantly thought about. I appreciated that the Tess romance thing got resolved in this book, but Anden’s love of June was creepy to me, considering the age difference, and in the epilogue, I found it weird, but not unexpected, that the two of them dated, though I was glad they broke it off. Day’s illness throughout this story seemed out of place as a plot point for me, especially since it took five years for it to really develop, but I was glad he wasn’t “perfectly cured”, after getting shot. I’m not sure if Lu meant one of those last few chapters as an homage to Les Miserables, but June’s repeated pleads of “let him live” are in the song “Bring Him Home”, which I found to be a nice Easter egg in the story, whether intended or not. June being the cure made sense in a way, but I don’t understand how she got better completely. It’s implied that the colonies gave her some sort of cure and took the virus to spread, but how they got hold of a cure seems fishy to me. In the epilogue, when June sees Metias’s grave and says that they’re finally the same age, I teared up a bit. I can’t imagine having to come to terms with effectively outgrowing someone lost far too young, and I thought the author described her grief really beautifully here.

Favorite Quote: That's why I'm sorry. I'm sorry because you shouldn't have to be everything to me. I had you, but I'd forgotten that I had myself too. It's a new feeling, something I'm getting used to.

Okay, I know this is an unpopular opinion but this was my favorite book in the series. Although I found June and Day more compelling characters than Eden and Day in this book, I thought this story was so much more poignant and had a much more complicated and interesting villain. Ross City was fascinating and the class divide present there held such poignant implications about technology and so much more that I thought it was a much more interesting and complex setting than the original trilogy. Eden and Daniel's (still weird to refer to him by that name) bickering was tiring at times, but their relationship as siblings was really touching and I thought it brought out an interesting perspective of both of the characters. I didn't love Pressa at the beginning, but toward the end, she was such an interesting character and I loved her and Eden's dynamic. The very ending of the book was so so so good and definitely made me tear up a bit. I was wary coming into the book that I would just find it a totally unnecessary addition to the series but I actually really enjoyed it and I thought it added to the overall story (though I did miss June's narrations).

Favorite Quote: There is nothing to figure out, there is no how or why. Sometimes things just happen.

*END OF SPOILERS*

The Legend Series started out as an interesting, updated take on Les Miserables, but quickly evolved into something much more. Though not my favorite series in the whole world, there was never a dull moment and I’m really looking forward to reading some of Lu’s other works, hopefully finding them as immersive as the world of the Republic!

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Books in Series: Legend; Prodigy; Champion; Rebel

Author: Marie Lu

BONUS REVIEWS

Life Before Legend is a duology of two short stories surrounding June and Day prior to the events in the Legend series. I much preferred June’s story to Day’s and found that her story had more heart to me and was more interesting. It was cute, but I found largely unnecessary, but still enjoyable nonetheless. Fun for lovers of the series!

Favorite Quote: Someday, someone out there will see you for the girl you really are. Someday, you’ll find someone who understands you.

Fun to see the epilogue of Champion from Day's perspective. Not a ton of new info but definitely a cute little story that fans of Legend will enjoy.

Favorite Quote: I loved you. I love you still. I want to be with you.

Really short but sweet nonetheless! It's nice to see June and Day together again with his memory mostly intact. Like the other Life After Legend story, didn't offer really any new info but it was exciting to see the duo interact once more, however briefly.

Favorite Quote: Your past is forever part of you, just as it is a part of me. And I loved that person, just as I love you.

Bonus Books: Life Before Legend; Life After Legend; Life After Legend II

#legend #prodigy #champion #marie lu #the legend series #certified nora review #four stars #life before legend #life after legend #life after legend ii #rebel

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blogging-time · 5 years ago

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Mealybugs

Send me a random word and I will attempt to write a Hurt/Comfort Fic containing/based on it. My Fic Masterlist

Word: Sick - Submitted by @3amthebitchinghour!

Summary: Roman couldn’t deny the fact that he’d found Patton’s seemingly unjustified concern to be somewhat endearing at first... but now things were quickly getting out of hand...

If only Roman had known why Patton felt so protective over him, it could have saved the pair oh-so much heartache.

Warnings: Mild illness/fever. Very brief Remus mention.

Pairings: Platonic Royality. (Can be interpreted as romantic.)

Word Count: 3,595

~ ~ ~

Roman couldn’t deny the fact that he’d found Patton’s seemingly unjustified concern to be somewhat endearing at first. Despite his well-sown fear of appearing both feeble and childish, there was just something about the dad Side’s ever-blossoming kindness that chipped away at the prince’s protective thorns until he was nothing more than a delicate collection of crimson rose petals in the botanist’s careful hands.

Perhaps to Patton, Roman was little more than a single clipped rose, powerless to fight off the tender love and care that he had deemed the prince beautiful enough to be deserving of. Still, Roman had enjoyed every last moment he’d spent simply being a part of his friend’s heavenly garden. Every day he’d let his roots embed themselves further and further into the soil until there was seemingly no moving him, and every day his friend would come by to perform his routine check-up.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you flourishing, kiddo!” his friend would chirp with a carefree smile.

But even the most attentive of botanists will one day see their flowers wilt. Even the most well-tended gardens can become victims of disease. And when this happens, perhaps one of the worst things you can possibly do for an already suffering rose is overwater it.

In the beginning, the whole thing had seemed as innocent as a timid field mouse cautiously poking its head up to greet the cold evening breeze. True, you typically wouldn’t want to see any type of rodent rummaging around in your garden, but there had just been something so careful and genuine in Patton’s eyes that had made the man seem far sweeter than any succulent berry he could possibly steal away.

Besides, Patton had been Roman’s faithful botanist, not some common thief. The prince knew there was nothing in this world that his friend would intentionally deprive him of. However, the intention doesn’t always match the outcome, and one simple observation was all it took to set off a rather unfortunate series of events.

~ ~ ~

“Oh, kiddo… you’re sick,” Patton had commented, concern dripping from his voice like melted ice-cream.

“Oh, Padre, you’re too kind,” Roman had joked back, hoping against all odds that he could bury the dad Side’s concern with his quick wit.

But Patton’s heart was not so easily satisfied.

“What in Thomas’ name do you think you’re doing out of bed? You should be resting.”

The prince sighed before answering, “It’s just a passing cold, Patty-cakes. There’s no need for you to be getting your buns in such a twist.”

“You leave my buns out of this, little mister,” Patton countered, taking a step forward and gently placing his hand on the ill man’s already damp forehead.

Looking back, perhaps the moment Roman instinctively let himself melt into the touch of the moral Side’s cool hand was the moment he’d sealed his fate.

The botanist’s persistent supervision began not long after that.

~ ~ ~

It had all started with a humble offering of chicken soup.

“Now you just lie here, Roman, and I’ll serve you up one of my very own Patton-patented pawsitively palatable poultry plates in just one moment!”

“Now look who’s paid a visit to the alliteration station!”

Then came the many cutesy looking coffee mugs, almost all of which contained some different variation of Healthline’s ‘Top 10 Healthiest Herbal Teas You Just Have to Try!’

“As the wise Uncle Iroh once said: Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights!”

“Padre… we’ve known each other for almost thirty years.”

“And yet this dashing prince simply never fails to fascinate me!”

And who could forget all of those simple yet tedious everyday tasks that Patton had offered to fulfil in Roman’s steed?

“Oh, most sweet and noble knight of mine… are you absolutely certain that this quest I have assigned to you won’t prove itself far too time-consuming or demanding?”

The moral Side chuckled faintly at that.

“My liege, I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see to it that Master Thomas gets his chance to rehearse this afternoon, and that the last of the required props are picked up from Ye Olde Hobby Lobby in plenty of time for supper!”

“You have my eternal gratitude.”

“And you, my tissues.”

One could easily argue that the feverish prince had been entirely too willing to comply with the botanist’s generous wishes during those first two days, but how was he to know just how overbearing his friend would become over the course of the next seventy-two hours?

It had all started with Patton’s refusal to let Roman prepare his own toast.

“It’s just a simple slice of toast, Doctor Ramsay,” Roman bantered, “And if it’s any consolation I’ll promise not to cut the bread with my sword this time – Prince’s Honour!”

“Kiddo, you shouldn’t be handling food at all while you’re not well; that’s how you end up spreading germs.”

“To whom? Myself?”

“You never know, Roman. Please… just leave all of the cooking to me for now. I can have everything done within five minutes.”

Then came the many unnecessary yet incessant visits to Roman’s room that Patton would make throughout the day.

“Knock, knock!”

“Oh, I wonder who could possibly be there?” Roman drawled.

Patton giggled weakly at that.

“Just your happy-chappy pappy checking up on someone sappy!”

“Somehow I don’t think I’m the sappy one here, Patton.”

And how could Roman ever overlook the fact that he’d practically been put on strict bedrest for multiple days when there were so many other things he’d rather be doing to elevate his growing boredom?

“Listen, nurse… I understand you’re just trying to look out for me, but I can’t see any good reason as to why I shouldn’t be allowed to go and play ‘Mario Kart’ with the court jester. I feel like I’ve done nothing these past few days, and besides, my temperature barely even meets the criteria for a fever anymore.”

“First of all, we’ve already spoken about you referring to Virgil as the ‘court jester.’ Second of all, the reason your health has been improving is because you’ve taken the time to do nothing. Thirdly, Roman you’re far too competitive to be playing videogames right now. You’ll just end up psyching yourself up too much and making your headache so much worse.”

The prince had done his best to tolerate this sort of treatment for five whole days before allowing himself to finally admit the obvious: Patton wasn’t his knight in shining armour; he was the dragon-witch responsible for keeping him locked up in a tower.

He knew confrontation was inevitable if he wanted to see the outside world again anytime soon - Too long now had he been kept inside of a restrictive vase as opposed to an open flowerbed. Still, going into the discussion, Roman had downright dreaded dealing with the resistance he would surely be met with from his fellow Side. Of course, he knew the moral Side would never be mad at him for standing his ground, but if he didn’t want his friend to worry then he felt he’d still have to prepare a solid rebuttal.

The creative Side had braced himself for his moral counterpart’s troubling frown. He’d fully anticipated his friend’s most frequently recycled justifications and prepared what he considered to be an adequate counterargument for each. Heck, the prince had even taken the liberty of preparing an evidence casefile should the dad Side ever demand to see proof of his ongoing recovery.

“Behold! The piece of evidence that clearly contradicts the witness’ testimony!” Roman rehearsed, finger pointing rather dramatically at his bedroom mirror, “If you take a good look at this thermometer, you’ll see that my temperature read as 98.6F this morning. Mr Sanders, you claimed I couldn’t leave the room for as long as I have a fever, but this device clearly shows I now have a perfectly normal body temperature!”

Undoubtedly Roman had done enough preparation to ensure that even a man as tight-lipped as Logan couldn’t help but feel proud of his work. If only history had been kind enough to repeat itself, then perhaps the creative Side could have even found himself standing in the middle of another ‘Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fic’ type situation.

However, there had been one rather unfortunate series of developments that the prince had not fully fortified himself for – one that had proven itself to be far more regrettable than unlikely, and one that the prince would have no choice but to embrace as he failed to sway the conversation back in his favour.

For within mere minutes of opening his carefully planned, well-constructed and adequately researched argument, both the poor over-watered wilting rose, and his apparently not-so-attentive botanist had completely abandoned their cool demeanours in exchange for a far more contentious persona.

“Roman, please, just be reasonable,” the dad Side pleaded, arms outstretched in a halting motion as he took yet another step back towards Roman’s doorway.

“Oh, my stars!” the aforementioned Side proclaimed incredulously, “Do my ears deceive me? Or is that truly ‘The Hypocrite of the West Coast’ sincerely asking me to be more reasonable?”

Had the man standing before the prince been anyone but his favourite fatherly figure, then surely he would have pressed him on the long sigh he just let out.

“Kiddo, I understand why you’re upset, but you know I’d never try to deter you like this if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. I hate seeing you cooped up in here just as much as you do!”

“Then why won’t you set me free?”

“Because I believe-”

“Oh yes, because you believe it’s the right thing to do, don’t you? That’s always what it seems to come down to at the end of the day! Everything in the entire Thomas-sphere has to revolve around what Morality thinks is right and wrong! Honestly, what have the rest of us ever done to deserve a seat at the table?”

The moral Side’s entire body seemed to tense at that, his breath hitching as though he were trying to force some unsavoury words back down his own agitated throat. Tears were now threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes, yet his gaze remained almost perfectly fixed.

“Roman…”

“No! I don’t want to hear it, Pat! I’m sick and tired of listening to what you have to say!”

“You’re sick and tired, full stop, Roman! Please, you should really just go back to bed while I-”

“While you do what, Patton? Are you planning on tucking me back into bed again? Perhaps you could infantilise me even further by reading me another bedtime story, or- Oh! I know! Why don’t you go and prepare me yet another bowl of your infamous chicken soup? I’m not sure the first couple-hundred bowls have made me entirely anti-poultry yet!”

Undoubtedly, hunched up shoulders and pointedly narrowed eyes weren’t a particularly good look on the usually oh-so-cheery dad Side, but he simply couldn’t help the fact that his composure was shrivelling up so fast.

“If you really want to get me out of your hair so badly, then why won’t you just let me take care of you? The sooner I can get you healthy again, the sooner I can leave you to your own devices!”

“Because it’s not your job to take care of me, padre!” the prince snapped back, this time sounding utterly exasperated. “I’m not some delicate little flower that you should feel obligated to attend to! You’re not my designated botanist! You… You know what you are? What you really are, Pat? You’re just some aggravating little mealybug that’s latched onto my leaves that now adamantly refuses to let go! You’re sucking the life out of me, Pat, and it’s causing me to wilt! How on Earth do you expect me to stand it?”

With those words, the last of the moral Side’s composure finally slipped away.

“I don’t know, Roman! How do you expect me to cope with losing Creativity again?”

The words had come barrelling out of his mouth before he could even think to stop himself, and the tears don’t fall too far behind.

The room fell completely silent in an instant, bar the sound of the dad Side’s sombre hiccups.

Try as Patton might, he genuinely couldn’t help the feeling that he was being cruelly suffocated and torn apart from the inside. It felt as though someone had forced him to swallow an entire packet of dandelion seeds, and now the unwelcome plant was blooming, stems sprouting painfully from the pit of his stomach before forcing its way up through his throat, and finally bursting out dramatically from his silently screaming mouth. It seemed that no matter how hard the botanist had tried to suppress this unruly weed, the truth was always destined to come to light in some horrific way.

“Patton…?” Roman hesitantly asked, his previous shouting voice having been replaced by an almost-whisper.

The man in question only let a single choked sob escape before continuing to speak…

“…He was just like you, you know…” he blurted out, voice sounding unnaturally strained from trying to suppress his own emotions. His eyes were now utterly transfixed on the floor, almost as if he were willing it to magically open up and swallow him whole.

The prince audibly gulped as he mentally prepared himself for the question he’d inevitably have to ask, regardless of whether or not he already knew the answer.

“Who was, Pat?”

Another choked sob escaped; this time followed by a long, shaky, uneven breath. The question seemed to hang in the air far too uncomfortably for far too long as one Side watched the other pathetically curl in on himself.

“The King,” Patton eventually rasped out, words slicing through the tension in the air so swiftly and so grotesquely they almost seemed to mimic the actions of a rusty lawn mower blade.

Roman could practically hear the machine whirring around inside his head.

“He told us all it was just a cold – That he’d be perfectly fine if we just left him alone for a few hours…”

“Patton…”

“He told us all to just go out and play… He promised us he’d come and join us as soon as he was feeling better… At the time none of us even realised that would be our last chance to run around in the garden together… Our last chance to marvel at the early Spring flowers together… Our last chance to weave intricate little flower crowns together with the King… and so we missed it… We missed our final chance to say ‘goodbye’ and then he was just… gone…”

As the well finally overflooded, allowing for two long streams to suddenly pour down the older Side’s fiercely flushed face, the young prince swore he could feel his own still beating heart immediately split in two.

“Patton,” he tried again, “Surely you don’t blame yourself for any of that. I highly doubt there’s anything you could have done to prevent such a fate from befalling the old Creativity – and even if there had have been, you couldn’t have possibly known any better!”

“I could have been by his side!” Patton snapped back, punctuating his words by gripping his upper arms even tighter. “I knew one of my friends was sick and I did nothing to help him! Worse than that, Roman, I left him alone to play hopscotch.”

“Darling, it’s not your fault for having such faith in an old friend. He was the one who told you to give him some space! You were only doing what was asked of you!”

A sudden wave of realisation swiftly struck down the prince’s confidence the moment he heard those words aloud.

“Oh, my dear little heart…” he cooed as he watched his shaking friend visibly shrink. “I’m so sorry, Pat… I didn’t mean to-”

“No… No, you don’t have anything to apologise for…” Patton sniffled as he tried to stand up properly. “I… I understand I may have been a bit… overbearing these past few days, but I…” He was getting choked up again. “I… I just couldn’t risk losing Creativity again… I couldn’t risk losing you. I love you so much, kiddo, and I genuinely don’t know what I would do if I ever-”

Roman decided to silence that oncoming tangent by abruptly pulling his spiralling friend into a warm embrace. Perhaps the experience would have been a little more pleasant had his own body not decided to start trembling mere moments ago, but none of that seemed to matter as the dad Side slowly melted into his soothing touch.

“Do you want me to let you in on a special little secret, padre?”

The dad Side merely nodded his response into the crook of the prince’s neck, causing the slightly calmer man to let out a faint chuckle.

“The truth is… when I first appeared here in the mindscape, I really didn’t know much at all about… well… anything! Sure, I had a decent enough hold on what sort of things inspired Thomas, what stories he wanted to tell and how he wanted to go about telling them… but when it came to Thomas’ internal ‘Breakfast Club’ I was almost completely at a loss! By all accounts your quizzical looks should have made me feel like a Roman gladiator thrown haphazardly into a colosseum without so much as a broken stick to defend myself!”

“I’m sorry if any of us startled you…” came a muffled response.

“But that’s the thing, Pat,” Roman recounted with a kind smile, “None of you ever did… In fact, from the very first moment I ever laid my dazzling eyes upon all of your startled yet adorable – if not slightly nerdy – faces, I honestly never felt anything but… safe, secure… welcome, even! Now I know that may not make much sense at first given how little I actually knew you all at the time, but I happen to have my own little working theory as to why I felt that way. Would you like me to share it with you?”

That question was apparently enough to make the dad Side look up from where he had been nuzzling his tear-soaked face into his friend’s now admittedly rather damp shoulder. The sight of his puffy eyes alone was enough to make Roman want to tear off his own crimson rose petals and use them as an overly extravagant tissue on the botanist’s grief-stricken visage.

Alas, a small piece of his velvety sash would have to suffice for now.

“Please,” Patton tentatively begged as the prince carefully wiped away at his cheeks.

“I reckon it’s because the Creativity you once knew never truly left. Even if I didn’t maintain the vast majority of his memories, I vehemently believe that all of those otherwise inexplicable feelings were the by-product of him having once loved all of you. He never felt betrayed… He never felt lonely… He never felt as though you let him down, padre, because it’s abundantly clear didn’t.”

“But how can you be so sure his feelings never changed?”

“I don’t know, my own little Patton-ted Piglet… How can you be so sure they ever did?”

Something in the moral Side’s expression seemed to change in that moment… Something subtle yet unmistakable that let Roman know he’d finally gotten through to the man.

It was only a matter of time before a contented smile had taken place on both of their blushing faces.

“I suppose I never really thought of it that way…” Patton sheepishly admitted.

“Yet you’d dare to entertain the thought that your dashing prince would ever leave you?”

The creative Side had fully intended for his sentiment to come across as light-hearted. Rather unfortunately for him, it appeared his words only served to make the dad Side feel more guilty.

“I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that earlier, kiddo… and I’m sorry if my paranoia ever made me act unfairly towards you… I guess I just let my parental instincts get the better of me sometimes…”

“I’ll consider it all water under the bridge so long as you promise not to tell Teach I had to take a leaf out of his book today,” Roman joked, earning a stifled burst of heartfelt giggling from his now slightly more chipper and upbeat friend.

When the laughter eventually subsided, the dad Side decided to take a step back and get a better look at Roman, consequently breaking the embrace as he did so.

“I can’t tell if you acting all logical is supposed to be a sign that your health is improving or deteriorating,” he playfully teased.

“Well whichever one of the two it is, I just hope all of this exposure you’ve had to my sorry-self over these past few days hasn’t been enough to infect you.”

“Oh, Roman, I hate to tell you this, but I was already sick,” Patton merrily admitted after only a brief pause.

“What?” the prince dramatically exclaimed, voice suddenly sounding perturbed. “Oh, padre… Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well? We need to get you tucked into bed with some medicine and a bowl of chicken soup right away!”

Although Morality had tried to contain their mildly inappropriate giggling, he simply couldn’t help but be amused by the irony behind Creativity’s words.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any need for that,” he giddily reassured, “After all, doctors say there’s still no known cure for love-sickness!”

~ ~ ~

General Tag-List:

@lunamay2006, @not-so-innocent-bi-sander, @saphael-malec102, @anastasialestina

Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic, so this tag-list may be a little outdated. If at any point you want to be added/removed from my tag-list then feel free to let me know!

Secondary Note: I may come back and edit the ending a little at a later date. This fic had been sitting in my WIP’s for far too long, so I’m worried it may have come across as rushed due to the fact I really wanted it to be completed.

As always, feedback is much appreciated! I was very out of practice and sleep-deprived here, so I’m sure I’d benefit a lot from constructive criticism! I hope you’re all having a fan-der-tastic day!

#Thomas Sanders #Sanders Sides #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Royality #Platonic Royality #My Fic #Reblogs > Likes

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beerecordings · 5 years ago

Note

Do you mind explaining a little more of seven seven Henrik’s backstory? I checked the tag, but tumblr only gave me two posts for it -River

yeah, i’d love to! i haven’t talked about him much, this au comes mostly off the top of my head and then occasionally yanks me down into more complex scenarios, which i enjoy a lot.

okay this is long and honestly it’s a horror story so i’m going to put it under a read more. careful it is creepy and there’s a lot of talk of blood and stalking. seriously it’s a little messed up i used to be scared as hell of the Pooka when i was a kid lol. the short story, if you don’t want to read, is that a creature called a Pooka chased him out of Germany and nearly made him a prisoner, but Jackie and Marvin saved him!

but anyway yeah so Henrik is the seventh son of a seventh son, like I’ve mentioned, which pretty much means he A) is bizarrely lucky, impossibly lucky, B) can sense some magical activity and tell when things are supernatural even if they’re disguised to other humans, either seeing their real nature or just being able to tell that the thing in front of him is, on some level, not quite human, and C) a lot of people or creatures who are clued in to the mythological world might want to hurt him :( there are a lot of myths (Henrik doesn’t know how true they are) about how his hair or skin or blood could be used for really powerful spells or luck talismans or how even just keeping him around could increase luck or magical energy. to be fair, this does seem to be true in the households he’s lived in, as his family was really lucky with a lot of stuff when he was with his wife and kids, and recently his friends have been really lucky. he doesn’t consider this real luck at all, though - he’s constantly paranoid that something will come to kill him for a ritual or hurt him to get something out of him or just lock him away as a lucky charm for the rest of his life.

and he has good reason to be paranoid after what happened! A couple years ago, he caught the eye of a Pooka, a nightmare shape-shifter hardly more intelligent than an animal and generally not classified at the level of a human the way a Selkie or higher spirit or satyr or something like that would be. (okay there are some legends that make Pooka clever tricksters who come after bad people and others that say they’re even friendly but in the stories i was always told, Pooka were monsters and you did NOT want to be targeted by one, because they never let their victims go and enjoyed tormenting innocent humans for reasons never explained to me). Henrik still doesn’t know exactly what it wanted with him, because it never spoke. It’s just one night he woke up at the witching hour and sat up in bed beside his wife and outside his window there was a donkey.

but it was horrible, it wasn’t… it wasn’t normal. The Pooka takes a lot of different forms. usually a huge black dog, or a huge black bull, or a huge black hare, or a huge black-haired man, or the donkey. And the donkey, to Henrik, was the worst of them. It would be the body and head of a donkey, but it would stay on its hind legs like a man and wear a coat, and there would be something in his eyes far too clever for a donkey - an ability to watch, an ability to be interested in him, an ability to want to hurt him. That first night he thought it was a sleep paralysis demon. He held stock-still and stared at the blank yellow eyes with the rectangle pupils on either side of its head and wondered why it seemed to stare directly at him, as though hungry. It reached up a hand - grey and covered in fur, but the hands of a man - and pushed open his bedroom window.

His wife woke up and asked him why he was shaking so hard and when he whirled around to look at her, the Pooka disappeared again. He had to stay home from work the next day he was so afraid, and even though he and his wife had been having a lot of problems lately, she pulled him right into her arms and stroked his hair and let him cry because he was just so terrified. she’d never seen him that scared. his vision was telling him that thing was real even though he’d never heard of anything like it and wanted it to be a nightmare.

and the thing was, he was the only one who seemed to be able to see it.

He kept trying to go to work as usual, providing for his kids and looking after his family, but the Pooka began to get closer and closer. he would get on the subway and look up and the Pooka would be a dog sitting across from him, staring at him with donkey’s eyes, bigger than he was, big enough that its head touched the top of the subway and pressed its ears down. or he would be in the middle of an intensive surgery, and suddenly the window would open, and this hare the size of the operating table, with the yellow eyes of the donkey and all its horrible ribs jutting out, would crawl into the room and stare at him while he worked, sweating and trembling so hard he could barely perform, though he sometimes didn’t have a choice depending on how serious the surgery was and how far he was into it, the hare staring at him the whole time and just breathing. or the huge black-haired man, donkey-eyed and twice his size, stepping into his home while his wife and kids were all asleep, stepping over to him, its boots thudding across his dining floor, leaving blood in their wake, its yellow eyes fixed on him as he shook, shattering a coffee mug, trying to make his voice work, to say something like “what are you? what do you want with me?” but it never answered, it never spoke, just stepped closer and closer, fixed on him, staring at him, and then, for the first time, it reached out with its sausage-sized fingers, and it touched his fucking throat, and he felt blood come spilling out of his mouth for reasons he still doesn’t understand, and it swiped up the blood with its thumb and began to drink.

it turned to go after a drop of it, but it wasn’t satisfied.

Henrik, understandably, just about lost his mind with fear after that. he had seen the bull standing over his wife and kids enough times by then that he knew none of them were safe, and besides, no one believed him. his wife thought he was having a nervous breakdown or developing a psychotic illness or something because even though she knew about what he was, the story was just too ridiculous, too insane, and whoever heard of a donkey like that anyway? so he ran away. didn’t even think about it or mean for it, really, didn’t have time to leave them notes, to tell them that he loved them, just… ran and hoped the Pooka would leave them all alone. but it just kept following him. and now he was all along, and it started to get bolder.

it sat beside him on trains destined for countries he picked at random. it swam across the channel with him when he ran to Ireland. in his hotel room, it stood over him, and when he ran to sleep on the streets instead, terrified and exhausted, still it followed him, the donkey towering over him, the yellow eyes fixed on him, and it started to eat his blood whenever it wanted to, touching his throat and making it come welling up and drizzling from his mouth again while he was paralyzed by the strange power come over him, frozen still by the Pooka except for tears running down his face. he tried to run away again, but now, he found, it was no longer just watching, it would grab him and force him to stay in the hotel room, or snatch him off the streets while he searched for any help and drag him to the forest to drain him, and then it began pulling him deeper and deeper into the forest every time and letting him wander for less and less time, and then one day it brought him a big cup of milk in its horrible donkey hands, and he realized, in a moment that nearly killed him, that it was going to make him a prisoner for the rest of his life. but he didn’t know what to do. he’d been hunted for months. he was exhausted and terrified and exhausted of being terrified. there was no way to get free of it. in his dreams every night the Pooka made him see himself sat on the back of the great black bull, clinging on for dear life, blood running from his mouth, unable to throw himself off. it felt like a dream. in retrospect, it’s like it didn’t even happen to him, just like he watched it happen to someone else. it was extremely traumatic for him and he knew he was going to die and gave up on finding help.

until, of course, a little star spirit who loves to explore happened upon him. Marvin had never met a Pooka before and he was very curious when he noticed its spirit!! he went zipping off into the woods all excited and fascinated, but then he came upon the little man curled up beneath an outcropping in a worn doctor’s coat, shaking and passed out, anemic and freezing and very ill with the toll all this took on him. Marvin has rarely been so distressed in all his life. Henrik woke up to a very sweet white cat kissing at him and keeping him warm. he let Henrik hug him and pet him and mumble to him about dying and wanting to go and Germany and his family and blood from his mouth for a long time before he heard the Pooka come and decided this was too much for him to deal with alone. he zipped off to go get Jackie, but not before he saw exactly what the Pooka had been doing to the stranger. Jackie was horrified, of course, and finally here was someone who actually had an idea of what this creature Henrik had been ranting about to everyone he could think of actually was. In the end, it’s his luck that brought Henrik to Ireland, the homeland of the Pooka, where someone might know where it was and where a friendly star might wander onto him. they found Henrik silver spurs like in the stories Jackie had always been told as a kid and the next time he dreamed, Henrik could dig the silver spurs into the side of the Pooka and make it scream, a horrible shrieking noise like a half-dozen animals being slaughtered that has never left Henrik’s head since. The Pooka tried to come back and punish him a couple times, but Jackie and Marvin protected him and eventually it was killed with silver because, while Jackie rarely kills anything at all, it was clear that it wouldn’t stop coming for Henrik, perhaps having developed some kind of an addiction to him.

It took months for Henrik to believe it was really over. Jackie kept him in his home the whole time - apart from a brief sojourn to the hospital once or twice, since Henrik was seriously ill - and nursed him back to health with Marvin’s help. for the first couple weeks, Henrik was just silent, wrapped up in Jackie’s bedsheets staring at the wall, blue with blood loss and illness and a certain sort of grief that will never go away, letting Jackie and Marvin feed him and comfort him. eventually he started to get better, but he never left Jackie’s house. only place he really feels safe now. he has, however, set up a secret little clinic just a few blocks away, where mythological creatures in need of help can come to a doctor who has some understanding of what they are and real expertise, too. Between him, Jackie, and Marvin, they started picking up some pretty expansive knowledge about mythological creatures and he’s learned how to treat so many different things!! It keeps his life really interesting, especially now that he’s developing a national reputation among the other folk. and it’s how Chase and Jamie both came to be a part of their family!

What happened really haunts him, but luckily he has happened upon the best group of friends he could ever ask for and he has a great support system :) so that’s where he’s at!! that was very long but yeh!!!! i am filled with love of him!!

#blood tw #stalking tw #mythology au #seven seven henrik #schneeplestein #horror tw

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artsninspo · 5 years ago

Text

NerdBae - Part VII

Authors Note: a little something for all the faithful readers worried about Elle and Tre. Don’t want to keep you in suspense for too long.

Elle had heard the news upon her arrival in the house. Her oblivious parents asked her what the fight had been about and she’d shrugged obliviously.

“Tre’s bitch ass; is a bitch” is all she got from a very brief phone call to Gina. It was evident the argument had been about her. Her mother said she’d never seen Tre so mad, she’d never seen him talk to anyone like that. It took Elle everything in her not to comment that they didn’t know him as well as they all thought.

Still, Gi and Tre were blood and she’d never allow herself to get between that. Gi would go to hell and back for her and if she went to war defending Elles honour, Elle would have to reciprocate - it was only fair. The string of bullets sounds as Elle descends into the theatre room finding Tre sitting pissed and killing everything moving on the screen. Elle grabs a spare remote lifting it up and he pauses the game looking at her.

“I want to play” she gestures sitting beside him.

“Press this to run and this to shoot, this to change weapons” he instructs and she sits failing to contribute anything to their two person team as Tre murders everything moving. The same coping mechanism he’d used since he was fourteen. Only then it was grand theft auto and he ran over everything moving.

“Why’d you go off on Gi” Elle asks as he pauses to take a drink and he freezes.

“She went too far this time” he mumbles swallowing hard and clenching his jaw out of frustration.

“So you just had enough? What’s the difference this time?” Elle shrugs looking him over.

“She needs to mind her business, you already won’t look at me now that you know about my pastimes. You don’t want to be around me and now she’s up my ass” Tre explains more tense than Elle’s used to.

“I went through a lot over this past year Tre. Gina’s been a rock for me and she’s seen me through it. She knows when I’m keeping something from her and she worries because with Cameron I gave her cause to. So if she went at you hard over me - get upset with me not her. She always has my back” Elle asserts reciprocating Ginas energy and Tre exhales smiling slightly at their bond.

“Have I ever hurt you Elle?” He asks. “Have I ever given you cause to not trust me or be fearful around me?” Tre adds. “No, never” He asserts knowing its true. “I never will, I’m not Cameron and all of a sudden you can’t be around me, we don’t talk and you act like I’m some guy not someone you grew up with. All of a sudden I’m a stranger and my sister comes at me sideways like I’m some piece of shit who doesn’t care about you” Tre explains openly.

Meeting his eyes for the first time in a week Elle swallows understanding his frustration.

“Spoke to Lily”

“What?” Tre asks with alarm.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure it was random - I was at the coffee shop.” Elle pauses. “She says you’re the best” she acknowledges looking at Tre. “I don’t think what you do is bad Tre, I may not understand it but I know you’d never hurt anyone and you deserve to be happy” Elle swallows.

Tre can see theres only truth and she means every one of her words but the sparkle in her eye is gone, so is her warmth around him. She’s armoured and he’s no longer allowed into her inner circle. She sighs looking at the ceiling before folding her arms.

“I don’t expect for things to get so sticky between us with everything that happened and the web of emotions. You do sex parties Tre and I’m not a fan of sex; you’re practically a sex expert” Elle shrugs trying to give him transparency. “If you think I’m a liar ask Gina; I’ve been celibate for over a year now” she explains.

“Why aren’t you a fan?” Tre asks.

Was it the fact that she almost never came? Or that Cameron had a smusher? Maybe after awhile of dealing with that she couldn’t even bring herself to getting wet? She’d tried with other men post break up but her brain would short circuit like someone suffering from PTSD and somehow it was a no go.

“Doesn’t matter men need sex, especially ones that are practically olympian at the sport - so lets just stop with the flirting” Elle reasons using her head for once.

“As a Dom its my job to give my sub what she needs”

“Well I don’t need to be spanked whipped or degraded” Elle asserts making Tre smile.

“Its not like that”

“Then whats it like?” Elle asks.

“Subs need and want different things, you have to observe, learn and listen before acting.”

“Then you should know I never want to be dominated so why put yourself through not getting what makes you happy?” Elle asks. Tre smirks at her naiveté.

“Ill apologize to Gina, flowers, Sephora gift card and spa day” Tre concedes changing the subject but it makes Elle smile.

“Thank you”

“How do I make up for Lily?”

“Water under the bridge Trevante” Elle stands.

“I have an engagement in Miami, I’d like you to come”

“Gina too? We haven’t been to south beach in a minute” Elle smiles but Tre shakes his head.

“No Gina, just us”

Elles brows bunch at his words.

“Tre” Elle sighs,.

“No, I’m not just letting it go. Just give me a chance - give me three days. If you’re not into me then fine. I’ll back off and respect your wishes. But you’re beautiful Elle and you don’t walk around with that confidence unless you’re playing pretend when it should be at all times.” Tre swallows. “And I won’t push you, I’ll respect your wishes but if you let me I’d give you the time and energy I put into everything else important to me”.

His words give Elle a wash of reveries. She’d misjudged his silence and observation for awkwardness when he’d been reading her like a book.

“Just give me an honest shot and I’ll respect your decision you have my word.”

“Ok” Elle whispers. Her response is a relief that makes him smile.

“Pack your necessities, you can go shopping while I tour spaces, then it’ll be just us”

“Ok”, Elle nods in agreement.

____

————

PART VII

“You really going to let some other bitch swoop in and take my idiot brother on a ride?” Gina asks as Elle looks around the penthouse in Miami.

“Gi, theres more to it” Elle sighs looking towards South Beach.

“I know there is you forgave him”

“Gi” Elle sighs. “Gi, you can’t mention anything, ever not even a snide comment”

“Now I’m fucking worried” Gina says on the other end of the line. Elle could picture her sitting forward.

“Its a bottom of the ocean type of secret”

“Then I’ll never tell” It was seldom they ever had to use those words trusting each others discretion with their secrets.

“Tre’s into BDSM, no we haven’t done anything but Gi. We both know - I’m not even close to being there”

“What?” Gina snaps. “He want you to spank and spit on him?” She asks.

“No he’s the spanker” Elle confides making gina laugh for a cool minute leaving Elle to smile.

“Ellie, Tre will respect you not having sex with him. But every guy isn’t Cameron - maybe your shrink was right about your body knowing something was wrong” Gi reasons forcing Elle to swallow.

“I know but” Elle sighs as the elevator dings revealing the driver. “Ill be down in a minute” she smiles getting her purse.

“But what babe?”

“It’s the kind of thing you share with someone you’re with and I don’t want Tre to look at me like damaged goods. Think I’m even more stupid for my decisions with Cameron. Let Cameron ruin me indefinitely - I’m just so in my head” Elle sighs heading out to catch the elevator.

“Tre will wait, don’t feel pressured, you don’t have to tell him the truth right away. It’s not a lie its personal but get out your head and give it a fair shot Ellie - he makes you happy.” Gina advises.

“I know right” Elle sighs. “Gi, why didn’t you warn me he got so fine and he knows all my cheat codes its not fair” Elle pouts as the door opens the driver is waiting outside the lobby.

“I wanted you to experience everything on your own time. Besides, I didn’t know if he’d be man enough. I’m pretty impressed by the chains and whips”

“Shut up” Elle laughs as the car pulls off.

She gets everything needed for a weekend in Miami, swimsuits, sundresses, sunscreen, illuminator, a summery fragrance and cute pyjamas and comfortable day attire. Even a fresh sugar wax since it had been awhile.

Tre’s at the condo when she returns with a satisfied smile.

“Thanks Pete” he says probably sending the driver a virtual tip. “Get dressed we’re going to dinner”

“Do we have to? Can we order in and go out for drinks tonight?” Elle asks sitting on his leg. The way he pulls her in closes makes her nipples harden as she snuggles into him. She’d been with Cameron for years and never felt the same kind of serene peace, chemistry and attraction.

“What do you want?”

“Oxtail and rice from a Jamaican spot”

“Alright” Tre agrees.

“Tre, I’m happy to be here with you like this” Elle admits feeling shy and Tre smiles genuinely nodding his head.

“Me too” he agrees tilting his head for a kiss. “Not on the cheek” he instructs making Elles eyes disappear in a laugh.

AN: Thanks for reading everyone, what do we think about the reconciliation and this Miami trip? Predictions? Promise Gina wont throw Tre’s lifestyle in his face :) Talk to me !

____

TAGS:

@bugngiz @lifelover4u @l-auteuse @notsomellowmushroom @princessasaani @heavensangelxo @bakarilennox

@tastingmellow @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @jad3djay @thickemadame @doublesidedscoobysnacks @aanairb @hooliemooliedonutshawp

@quietstorm-73 @thememoireeofme @tip222u @amelatonin @cherrystainedlipsbaby @keiva1000 @highlifeflylife

@queenflaws @uzumaki-rebellion @cutewylie @twistedcharismaaa @xo-goldengirl @lostennyc @xo-goldengirl

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writingthingsisdifficult · 5 years ago

Text

I found you

What happens when you find out that you’re Loki’s soulmate?

In my head everyone’s alive. Warning for cursing. Also for me not having English as my first language. First time writing Loki too. Or anything Marvel, really.

Hope you like it. Let me know if you do :)

Word count: 8789

______________________________________________________________________

I should have known better than to venture into the archives that today; my premonitions have been acting up for days. But I ignored the signs, and now I keep staring at this photo, ears ringing with shock. I would have missed it if I hadn’t stopped to admire his sharp features – it’s not secret I think he’s attractive. Hell, even the guys in the compound think that.

If this is true, I’m in so much trouble… but there really is no mistaking it. The mark on his wrist – partially obscured by a trailing sleeve and only visible because he’s banging on the glass – is clearly the twin to my own. Not to mention the painful longing in my chest whenever I look at his face or hear his voice on the interrogation tapes. I haven’t met him in person yet, and I doubt I ever will. He is a known terrorist who has tried to kill and or enslave humanity after all, even though they say he’s reformed and isn’t in the business anymore. At least that’s what Thor says, but he always believes the best of his brother.

No one knows where Loki is at the moment. Not even Thor can find him – not that that means much; Loki’s had a lifetime learning to hide from him.

I didn’t think much of it at first. The pull in my consciousness and the black pinprick in my chest were weak enough that I just thought I was exhausted. Constant threats to the planet you live on will do that to you. But as the time passed I only got worse, so I arranged a little visit to the lab where both Tony and Bruce ran a bunch of tests I don’t even know the name of – under supervision of Dr Cho and Stephen Strange. Such an odd collection of geniuses. It’s a wonder they didn’t kill each other.

It was Helen who first realised my condition was soulmate-related after Tony suggested PTSD and anxiety as a half-joke. Everything clicked in place then. But I mean, I was embarrassed as hell. Couldn’t look any them in the eyes for a week after… I’m a grown woman; I should be in control of my own destiny. But Fury made me swallow my pride when he had an assignment for us all, and when we got home Natasha and Tony apparently made it their mission to help me out.

Tony wrote a little algorithm to scan for my soul mark, and Nat pestered me continually for information. But they found nothing. It’s not so strange, really, since my apparent soulmate is a master of disguises – he’s probably out there having the time of his life as a boa constrictor or something. Man, the stories Thor tells when he’s in the mood. CRAY-ZEE!

So how did I find out I’m knee deep in shit thicker than a southern accent? Well, I was looking through a couple of old files, trying to find a pattern to a new phenomenon we’d just discovered when I came across screenshots from the surveillance tapes from Hamburg and there it was. His mischievous grin and the blurry lines on his wrist… If I didn’t already get tested, I’d run to the infirmary so fast I’d probably trip over my own feet and smash my head on a sharp edge or something.

My heart is beating unnaturally fast, and every time I focus in on his face, it skips a couple of beats. And it that isn’t enough: my mark itches and tickles whenever I’m thinking about him, which is basically continuously. I’m feeling both ill and exhilarated at the same time, I hope I don’t throw up. The archivists will kill me if I ruin their precious system.

As the truth sinks in, I’m flailing for a solution, even though I know there’s nothing I can do about it. You can’t just un-soulmate someone, and I definitely can’t ignore it now that I’ve found out. People go crazy for less. But I can’t stay here. Thor might find it amusing, and Bucky might not judge me – much, but the others? Imagining the looks on their faces makes me dizzy. They will be disgusted. No, I can’t stay. I have to leave. Fuck.

In a flash, I’m on my feet, power-walking through the halls to my room. Once I’m in the elevator I can’t stand still, tapping my feet and my fingers. Thousand thoughts ram my brain all at once, and I don’t know how to shut them off. I’m lucky most of the others are on a mission right now. I don’t know what I’d do if I met any of them in the hallways.

I slam the door behind me, grab the nearest backpack and start throwing random shit in it. My brain is working overtime, and I can’t seem to focus, but at least I’m awake enough to stop myself from stealing a car and flee straight away.

I hoist the backpack up, securing the clips over my chest and hips. I thinkI’ve gotten everything, and I’m about to leave when there is a soft knock on my door. Crap. Not now. I try to calm myself down before I open the door a tiny bit so whoever’s outside can’t see the mess in my room.

“Oh. Hey, Wanda.”

“Hey, Y/N. You okay? I heard you slam the door.” She looks genuinely concerned, and for a second I’m worried she’ll try to enter my mind, but she has sworn she will never do that again, so I push that thought away.

“Uh, yeah,” I reply a little too quickly. Forcing a smile onto my face, I shrug and tell the first lie that pops into my head. “I, uh, just really had to pee, so I lost my grip on the door handle, you know. Didn’t mean to slam it like that.” Wow. That was almost believable.

Wanda nods, but I can see the suspicion lingering in her eyes. “Alright. You will tell me if you’re upset, right?”

This time it’s me who nod. I feel guilt stabbing my chest, but I can’t tell her. Not now. She won’t take my news well. “Of course,” I add. In my own ears it sounds false, but she seems satisfied, and returns to her own room.

This is a complication. She will be on the lookout now. I can’t sneak past her. So, what are my alternatives? If I leave my things behind I could probably crawl through the vents, but I don’t like cramped spaces and besides, I’ll probably run into Clint somewhere in there. The hallway is out of the question. I sigh. Guess I finally have to face my fear of heights. My room is only on the fourth floor, and there’s fire stairs going all the way down, but it’s still higher than I would like.

I tip-toe to the balcony, opening the door as quietly as I can. It’s silly of me. No one’s really expecting me to sneak out, and it’s not forbidden to use the balcony at all. But I’d rather they not knowing I’m gone before I’m far away.

Swallowing my fear, I carefully reach my foot down onto the top step. Suddenly I jerk back, and I swivel around, ready to tell Wanda to let me go, but it’s only my backpack caught on the railing.

Letting out a shaky breath, I continue, one step at the time, careful to keep to the shadows and out of sight from the other windows. The rest of the descent is without further problems, but I’m still relieved when I’m finally on solid ground again. From here it’s a short run to the garage, and then… gonna have to steal a car after all, but knowing Fury they’re probably full of tracking devices. I’ll have to ditch it somewhere along the way.

_______________________________________________________________________

There is a bright flash, and it keeps playing before my eyes. My head is swimming and I stumble around, flailing and trying to find something – anything – to grab onto. If only the world would stop spinning!

One hand grazes my forehead, and it’s almost painful enough to stop me in my tracks, but not quite. It feels like I’m on fire, but my brain is polite enough to tell me, through short and incoherent sentences, that this is to be expected when one is being hurled into the sun.

It’s getting darker. Each flash grows dimmer, and my shoulder bumps something hard. It’s flat, and it’s not moving, so I dare open my eyes for half a second. A fuzzy hallway comes into view. The light is fading fast now, and my legs make their own decisions, taking me all over the place before steering me with full force forward. There’s a loud crash and a thin creaking that sounds so far away. Someone is muttering, maybe it’s me, I don’t know, and then everything grows dark.

_______________________________________________________________________

The goddamn ELEPHANT in the hallway is making so much noise it’s difficult to concentrate on the book. Even magically sealing the flat doesn’t help much, so with a deep sigh and flickering flames in his eyes, Loki carefully sets it aside and moves silently to the door. He flicks the flap covering the spy hole away and peers through. There’s nothing there, but he senses a presence of sorts.

The hairs on the back of his neck rise. Have they finally found him? There’s no time to flee, and Frigga’s voice whispers in his ear, to fight, to go down with honour, to allow himself an end fitting of a Prince of Asgard.

It only takes a couple of seconds to decide, but when the door rattles with force, his resolve strengthens. He yanks it open, knives in hand, echoes to the side, ready to fight, when a body collapses into him. He stumbles back, supporting the woman as he does, making the door slam shut.

He lifts her gently into his arms, not sure where this sudden concern comes from. She’s a total stranger, but somehow he’s overcome with the need that she should be safe. He’s not sure he likes it.

_______________________________________________________________________

Something cold is pressed against my forehead, and it lessens the dull thump a little bit. I lean up and into it, but it pushes back.

“Shh, don’t move.”

I try again, and this time a hand pushes down on my chest, holding me in place.

“You really shouldn’t move; that’s quite the bump on your head you’ve got there.”

My body jerks suddenly. I still feel like I’m submerged in flames.

“You’re shaking!” The owner of the voice feels my face again. “Hel! You’re burning up! What…” There’s a short pause. “Ah. This is what you mortals call a fever. I was starting to worry. But a fever we can work with. Lie still, please.”

What feels like an ice-blanket descends over me, and I drift off with the silky smooth voice swirling in my mind.

_______________________________________________________________________

The pressure in my ears lets up a bit, and it feels easier to breathe. The coolness on my face feels so lovely and I lean into it with a content sigh.

The surface moves and I frown in my half-sleep, but it soon returns, caressing my cheek and neck. And as my consciousness returns in full, I open my eyes. The light is too bright at first; I can’t see anything, but then a face swims into focus. Initially I can only see the dark hair falling in waves over broad shoulders, but then… keen, watchful eyes, sharp lines, and a mouth bearing a mischievous smile.

“Loki?” It feels like the world shifts under me.

“I will not hurt you.”

Of course he doesn’t know who I am, so naturally he tries to look both calm and harmless. He can’t have a panicked person running around in his home, or worse: outside. It’s not difficult for me to believe his promise.

He helps me sit up, and though it’s thrilling to feel his hands on me, I’m too dazed to do anything other than give him a faint smile. The movement makes me queasy, so when he lets go, I grab an armrest for support. “Thank you,” I offer weakly.

“You’re welcome.” It looks as though he wants to say more, but apparently he changes his mind. After a long silence, he asks: “How are you feeling? Looks like you had a run in with a rhinoceros. While I quite like the beasts, I don’t think mortals would fare well from an encounter.”

“I’m okay, I guess. A bit bruised, but nothing is broken. At least I think so.” I move my legs tentatively. No problem there. My right arm is fine too, but when I try to lift my left arm, pain shoots white sparks from my shoulder. I hiss loudly.

He moves to examine me, but something makes me flinch. I’m not ready yet. He holds his arms up and back away.

“Sorry,” I whisper, looking down at my shoes. “It’s not your fault.” This is silly. I shouldn’t be afraid of him touching me.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he offers with a smile. “You may know who I am by name, but we are still strangers. Will you allow me to tend to the bruises and cuts on your face?”

I nod, steeling myself for the pain, but his touch is light and nimble, his skin cool. I find myself leaning into his hand.

“You crashed through my door,” he begins. “Bloody and beaten, half dead by the look of it. What did this to you? Who…” He cuts himself off, and he looks properly confused; he definitely did not expect to be this invested. A few seconds tick by, just enough for Loki to regain his composure, but his fists keep clenching and unclenching.

His voice is much calmer when he asks again. “What happened? I need to know so I can figure out how to deal with these…” He gestures to my bruises, but there’s a tremble there, like the emotions are just kept in check. But if it’s sorrow or rage or something completely different I can’t say.

I think for a bit, trying to picture the minutes before I woke up on Loki’s sofa. It’s just a big blur. There was someone there, I was struggling to free myself from a pair of arms pinning behind my back, but it’s all in shadow really. But I do remember fumbling for something to defend myself with. There was a… “The portal,” I blurt out, and Loki looks even more confused. “I… I must have pushed a button or something before I… stumbled. Fell. Whatever. I think it dissipated once it was used, though.”

Loki gets up in a hurry, knocking a chair to the floor with a lout clatter, and all but sprints out the door, except he doesn’t sprint, he powerwalks, and I surprise myself by finding it endearing.

Moments later he returns, a relieved smile on his face. “You were right. The portal is gone, and there is very little residue. I tried to open it again, but its source seems spent – permanently closed,” he adds to the benefit of my confusion.

“There are several types of portals. Some acts like doors that has to be summoned to fulfil certain demands, others…” his voice is eager, and I would love to learn more about the magical properties of portals, but I feel pretty tired. In fact, I am, and I can’t hide the grimace when a particularly sharp pain shoots through my shoulder.

In a second he’s next to me, supporting my weight and pressing his cold hand to my forehead. “Maybe it would be better if you lay down again.”

I shake my head. “I’m good. Just need to, to relax. Please, continue.”

“I wonder,” Loki says with a pensive look, then falls silent.

“What?”

“How you found me. This place is warded. No one is supposed to find me here, let alone stumble over me accidentally.”

Oh, I can think of a reason, but I don’t voice my theory, it’s too early and Loki hasn’t really shown any definite signs that he’s happy I’m here. Instead I say: “Like in Harry Potter?”

He looks at me, an amused smile lurking in the corner of his mouth. “Something like that. My point is: you should not have been able to find me at all. Even my oaf of a brother –“

“Hey!” I just can’t let him talk ill of Thor. “Your brother is a sweet man. He always made me laugh, and he was really upset when you disappeared. You know, he’s out looking for you every day. So yeah, he’s kinda like a big, bouncy sheepdog but he’s not stupid.”

Loki looks a bit taken back, like he wants to ask me if it’s true, but I know he’s a master of appearance, and my heart aches for him. From what I’ve read in his files and from the stories Thor told us, I understand why he’s so closed off.

“Never mind,” he says after a while. He looks me up and down as if he just noticed me sitting there. It’s clear he’s not unaffected by my presence, but he plays it cool. At least he’s not threatening to throw me out. Yet. “I expect you wish to clean up? And then perhaps you would join me for supper? I had planned to dine in silence, but since you are injured, you might as well join me.”

My stomach flips, and then his first question registers. My face burns. He can probably smell me from where he’s standing, too. “So much for a good impression,” I mutter as I hurry after him.

“This way.” He leads me through the bedroom to a large, decadent bathroom. I stare in disbelief. How has he managed to find a place with such space and luxury here, but then it hits me: magic. It probably wasn’t like this when he first moved in.

“Towels are in the cupboard to the left. There’s soap and, uh, shampoo in the shower.” His voice draws me out of my reverie, and I nod. “Right,” he continues. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Once the door clicks shut behind him, I waste no time shedding my dirty clothes on layer at a time. The socks all but flies off. My plaid shirt as well, but it hurts more with every movement and when the time comes to pull the t-shirt over my head, a lightning shoots from my shoulder, blinding me momentarily.

I stumble and crash into the wall, knocking things off the shelf and making a general mess of things. The pain has me reduced to a whimpering heap on the floor.

The door opens and the cold air sends shivers through me. Loki’s hands are gentle as he lifts me back on my feet, and I swallow my embarrassment as he helps me pull the shirt off.

Reaching for my arm to examine my shoulder, he stops mid-movement when he notices my mark. His eyes flick from it to my face and back again, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. I think he’s gonna say something, when suddenly he whirls around, rushing out the door, leaving me both shocked, confused, and more than a tiny bit hurt.

Thinking about it, I don’t blame him. I’ve had four years to come to terms with it. Up until a few moments ago he had no clue what we are.

I remove the rest of my clothes slowly, careful to not rip open any cuts. Loki could probably heal them with his magic or some Asgardian ointment, but I really don’t want to push him right now. For fucks sake, we only met a few hours ago.

The water pressure is perfect, and after a couple of minor adjustments, so is the temperature. Why does he keep the water so freezing? Oh. Right. I feel like a moron now. This is going to take some getting used to. I mean… he’s not even human. Wait, is he? Like a different species of human? I was so preoccupied with finding him that I never stopped to think about that. My mind fills with new questions I never thought of before as I work the shampoo into my hair.

Will he get sick like an ordinary human? Can I spread disease to him? Influenza? The cold? Or maybe he is immune. Probably, but I don’t know. I doubt anyone really knows. Jeez, I should go buy a notebook and write these things down so I can ask him later. If there is any later. What if he doesn’t want me the way I want him. What if… are we even compatible? I mean, I don’t even know for sure how his body works.

With all these what-ifs swimming around my head, I step out of the shower and reach for a towel. It’s so soft I stand still for almost a minute just pressing my face into it, stroking the towel like I’m a lunatic. Eventually, though, I dry off and wrap another towel around my hair. It takes me a couple of seconds to realise that my torn and dirty clothes are gone, replaced by a pair of black sweatpants and a dark shirt with green stripes.

Smiling to myself, I get dressed, savouring the feel of soft materials and the discreet smell of the fabric softener. This is exactly how I imagined his clothes would smell, and I’ve thought about it a lot.

The shower did wonders for my sore muscles and injuries. It takes almost no effort at all to comb through my hair, and looking in the mirror I deem myself almost presentable now.

When I emerge from the bathroom my stomach is churning; meeting Loki for the second time, trying to make a better impression – while wearing his clothes… It’s ridiculous! This whole situation is insane!

I find him in the living room. He’s standing with his back to the door, but I’m pretty sure he knows every movement I make. Deciding we have all the time in the world, I take a couple of moments to look around.

There’s bookshelves on all four walls, absolutely laden with books. Some look really old, too. A teacup rests on a low table in front of a grey sofa, a half eaten biscuit on the saucer. In one corner, under an old-fashioned reading lamp, sits a well-used leather recliner. A book is lying face down on the seat.

The light from the window falls on a huge, dark green kentia, and despite the unease in my chest, I feel a smile tug on my lips. Loki definitely isn’t as cold and heartless as some of the reports I’ve read said.

I approach him like you would an injured animal. He’s standing by the window, arms crossed over his chest. It looks like he’s spying on the neighbours, but I’m not even sure he’s looking at anything at all.

“Loki?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but I can’t hide the hint of insecurity and fear that leaks through. Hope he doesn’t misunderstand.

It takes a few breaths before he reacts. His shoulders move up and down, up and down. And then he turns. Slowly and on the spot. There’s a gleam in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

I take another step, but stop when it looks like he’s gonna bolt. Here we stand, watching each other, wondering… my heart feels heavy. He doesn’t want me. Of course he doesn’t. He’s a… what is he, exactly? A demi-god? It’s of no consequence. He’s my soulmate, and the one thing I want more than anything in the world is to hold him close, and that’s just what I can’t do.

Second by excruciating second ticks by. He’s observing me, calculating. Suddenly, he slides up close. He takes my arm and holds my mark next to his. As they almost touch, they light up, like shining mother of pearl; greens and golds flicker over the skin in a sort of unchorepgraphed dance.

Loki looks up into my eyes. I can see a thousand questions forming. A spark, something new, before his face closes again, and he turns from me. It hits me then: he is just as confused and insecure as I am. I reach out: touch his shoulder gingerly, hoping I haven’t read him wrong.

He slumps forward. “How…?” he whispers, probably more to himself than me. “I… I’m not… I’m a monster…” Trailing off, he tries to step away again.

“Loki,” I repeat, tightening the hold on his shoulder. “Look at me. Please.”

He does, and I feel our souls spinning around each other, weaving and melting together. I don’t know what to say next, but he must see something in my eyes, because he pulls me close and buries his face in my hair.

“I found you,” he whispers, sounding like he doesn’t believe it, like I’m gonna disappear if he stays silent. “I found you.”

“No,” I whisper back. “I found you.”

When he finally lets go, the vulnerable expression is gone again. Old habits, I guess. He looks at me for a long time, like he’s trying to decipher every secret I’ve ever had. Eventually he smiles, a big, genuine grin, and says: “I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, It’s Y/N,” I sputter, wishing I could be a bit more suave. But no. He’s gonna have to take my awkwardness too.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he says, and my face heats up again. How come I’m so easily flustered when he looks almost unfazed by this? He looks me up and down. “It must have been a rough day for you. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Very well. There is this wonderful restaurant just down the street. What do you say we place an order and get to know each other better?”

I swallow and nod, trying desperately to look like the woman destined to be by his side. But the way he speaks to me has my insides on fire. Maybe it’s the soulmate thing, or maybe it’s just been too long, but his every word feels silky smooth on my skin, and the pull in my chest shifts, sliding to my core. I swear I can hear myself sizzling.

_______________________________________________________________________

“We must find out what did this to you. Something happened, and if you could only remember –“

“Well, yeah, obviously something happened,” I reply, slurping my noodles and trying hard to suppress the eye roll that’s fighting its way to the surface. The ache in my body is making me impatient. “I didn’t do this to myself.”

Loki gives me sort of an annoyed smirk. He’s not used to being talked back to. “Obviously,” he mocks. “What isthe last thing you remember, then?”

I close my eyes and think back. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s so close to me, but I remind myself that I can’t continue to be awestruck by him. Doesn’t stop the weightlessness in my stomach, though.

Flashes of colour and movement and smells pop up in my mind, but nothing recognisable. I go further back, tracing my movements since I left the compound. For a moment I’m struck by how much I miss them all, but I also know I can’t go back. At least not yet.

A computer swims into view. The screen shows a picture of… My eyes snap open. “I was doing research,” I say so suddenly I startle him. Soda sloshes over the brim of his glass.

“On what?”

Yeah, that. I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but saying it out loud is mortifying. “You.”

“Me?” The question comes out like a sharp chuckle.

Nodding, I grimace to try to hide my shame. “Mhm. You know, because of… of this situation.” I gesture to my soulmark then vaguely wave in the direction of his hand. “The… hm-hm… soulmate-thing.” It feels weird saying it out loud. Like I’m a sham.

“Right.” Loki absentmindedly closes his hand protectively over his wrist.

“I was, I was trying to find you.” Obviously. It’s harder to explain than I thought. What I want to say is: “I want to be with you – you have been in the back of my mind since I learned of your existence. You are my world.” But what I dosay is: “Figured it would be nice to, you know, meet you and… you know, get to know you, and all that.”

I feel like an idiot. Why can’t I be articulate and smart and a better match to Loki’s intellect? He must think I’m an imbecile.

“A logical thought,” he replies, but he doesn’t sound sarcastic. “Then what happened?”

“Um… I was knocked over the back of my head. I think. Someone… took me? I think I remember a car ride. It was bumpy. And loud.”

That seems to worry him. “Do you know who? Or why?”

Shaking my head hurts a little. “No. Sorry. Just… the button and tumbling through the portal.”

“That’s okay. We will no doubt uncover more pieces to the puzzle along the way.” He stuffs an entire dumpling into his mouth. “Ang ou gow by boher?”

I laugh out loud. “What?” This whole situation is absurd. What am I doing? Oh nothing, just having dinner with my soulmate who I just met, and he’s already talking with his mouth full of food. So domestic I’m tempted to check if I’m dreaming.

Swallowing, he picks up another dumpling, stopping before he puts it in his mouth. “And you know my brother.” It’s not a question any more.

My heart sinks. He’s not going to like my affiliations, but I can’t lie. Not now. “Mhm. All the Avengers, really. I’mkindaanavengermyself.” I leave it there, hovering like a mayfly over water.

The dumpling slips through his chopsticks. “Oh.” To his credit, he regains composure a hell of a lot faster than I would have done. “Then I apologise for trying to… subjugate you some years ago.” He says it with a wink, but there’s sincerity behind the joke.

“You’re forgiven. I think,” I joke back. “But I wasn’t on the team back then. I only joined a couple of years after the… incident. Someone told Fury of my powers.”

He tilts his head a bit, eyes bright. “And what are those?”

“Well, it’s not powers as such,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “But I have some precognitive abilities.”

Loki blinks and freezes with the chopstick halfway to his mouth. “You’re psychic?”

I shake my head fervently. “Oh no, not at all. I can just… sense… if something bad is going to happen. It is quite useful on missions; more of a heads up and keep on your toes kinda thing. But I never know whatis going to happen, it’s more of a gut feeling –“ I shut up. My stomach flips and I would write it off as the food, except for the slight change in the air. It’s too minute to put my finger on, but it’s there, and the feeling grows denser with every second. Shit!

“What is it?”

“It’s… I don’t know. Something is wrong. My estimate is three minutes by the feel of the surge in the air.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The window explodes, shards of glass scattering over the floor. The only reason I’m not impaled on them is Loki’s quick thinking. He shoved me under the table, sliding in after me, and he’s hunched over me, shielding me with his body. His armour clatters as it appears, covering him from head to toe.

Several people jump through the shattered window, crashing onto the kitchen floor. Some tiles crack from the impact. Black combat trousers over shiny, black boots surround the table, and my head spins. How… What do they want? I look up at Loki above me, and try to convey a heartfelt apology through my eyes alone. I brought them here. I should never have come.

Loki shakes his head slowly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. As his helmet grows, he moves with superhuman speed. The table flies through the room, taking at least three swat team members with it before it smashes into the wall.

“That’ll get Mrs. Davis in number four grumbling,” he says with a big grin. “Oh well, she’ll forgive me. She always does.”

Is he often attacked in his kitchen? I can’t do anything but roll my eyes as I straighten up and fall into a fighting stance. Even if this is an everyday occurrence for him, I’m going to do my best to protect him. All the hours in the compound gym are going to pay off now.

The madness is shining in his eyes as he flings a hand out; releasing a dagger that finds is target without trouble. His ease with killing is oddly comforting right now, and I am slightly shocked. But I don’t get many seconds to contemplate this new side of myself. One of the intruders descends on me, forcing me to take action. Grabbing the nearest thing I can get a hold of, I swing my fist around, slamming a decanter in his face. It’s probably worth a ton of money, but I doubt Loki minds, as the man shrieks in pain. A large shard sticks out from his cheek, just below his goggles. Hot, red blood is streaming down, staining both his jacket and my shirt, but I don’t feel sorry for him. I twist around, kicking him in the knee, sending him to the floor with a sickening crunch.

I risk a glance at Loki. He’s fighting like a cornered predator. Our attackers have some sort of shield or protection against his magic, and he has to resort to old-fashioned close combat. It’s a chilling sight.

The walls are creaking with each hit, plates and glasses and cutlery smash to the floor, creating an ear-splitting din that almost takes my vision away. That fraction of a second’s distraction is enough for one of the soldiers to grab my hair. Grunting, I try to twist around, but his grip is too strong, and with a flick of his hands and a soft kick to my shin, he forces me to the floor. A piece a glass cuts through my jeans and stabs my knee, and I whimper like a lost puppy, kicking myself internally for letting him get the upper hand.

The soft sound from me makes Loki stop what he’s doing. His dagger is stuck in his opponent’s kidney, but he loses his grip when he spots me on the floor. And just like that, the fight is over. Three soldiers clad in black camo advance on him, holding some sort of electric spears on him.

“Don’t,” I start, and is immediately shut off by a knife to my throat. Its sharp edge is balanced perfectly on my skin; stinging, but not drawing blood. I swallow hard.

A new man strolls into the kitchen from the living room, stepping unfazed over the bodies of his writhing and dead colleagues.

“Well, well… what have we here?” he asks, and I huff a scornful laugh at his so very villainous entrance. “Loki and his…” He looks at me. “…Unfortunate lady friend. You should have taken our advice. Instead you run straight to him. What were you hoping for, huh? Were you hoping to tame the savage?”

The man spits in Loki’s direction, but Loki doesn’t even flinch, though his face hardens ever so slightly. I doubt anyone but me notice. It’s kinda nice to see him strain to keep control of himself. I bite my lip to punish myself for thinking like that.

“Get out of my home!” His voice is icy and would send most men running. It’s a credit to these people’s training that they’re still standing and not sprinting down the road with their tails stuck between their legs.

The newcomer ignores Loki’s seething rage. “You will come with us, Master Silvertongue. Ah-ah,” he tuts, gesturing to my captor. He pushes the knife harder against my throat. The sting sends ticks to my eye, and I try hard not to swallow again. “Do as we tell you, or the girl will suffer.”

“Do as you wish, I care not.”

The man barks a laugh. “They call you the Liesmith. But you don’t fool me. We’ve already done our research.” He grabs my hand and twists my arm so that I almost fall forward. My eyes fly open. The fabric tears with a loud rrratch, exposing my soulmark. It’s still glowing faintly.

Loki’s eyes flicks from the man to me and back, and it’s good to see there’s still some fight left in his eyes, and his lips curl into that mischievous smile I’ve come to love. God, it’s really gone that far. My heart thumps loudly, and I feel my face prickle with the realisation that I won’t get the chance to fall in love with him slowly like a normal person. Trust me to go all in all at once.

The soldier keeps me pinned to the floor, grovelling like a commoner in court. Every time I move, pain from my knee shoots up my spine and erupts in bursts of colour over my eyes.

Forgotten memories flits in and out of my consciousness, and a voice rings in my ear, blocking out the incessant taunting and blathering. I don’t even flinch when one of Loki’s daggers imbeds itself in the cupboard with a loud thwack. You will be the one to bring us to him.

As the soldier behind me kicks me in the back, I can’t even groan in pain; the realisation hits me like a freight train, and I lift my head to look at Loki fighting for his life; for mine… This is all my fault!

For a brief moment our eyes lock together. I quickly look away so he doesn’t get distracted, but I know it’s too late. A loud groan and a thump make me look up again, and the sight sends chills down my spine.

Loki is kneeling, a mirror image of myself, and he is bleeding from his temple. Defeat and defiance glows in his eyes, and I know that he knows. His eyes soften and my insides turn. They shackle his hands and pull him backwards to the door, a lot less gently than necessary.

“I will find you again,” I croak. Something hard hits the back of my head, and the floor comes rushing upwards. The last thing on my mind before the void swallows me is “I promise.”

When I wake up, I wonder why my face is smushed against the floor and how much I drank to warrant this level of a hangover, but when I move to wipe the sleep from my eyes, my hand comes away bloody. My left eye is so swollen I can’t open it properly and everything hurts.

Hesitantly I feel my nose. Relief floods me when I find it not broken. But lying face down on the floor with my ass up in the air has left it bruised and sore.

“Fuck!” I don’t really have the words, but I curse the pain and the world and the people who took Loki from me even before we could get to know each other.

_______________________________________________________________________

I hesitate. Pick up the phone and dial the number, then hang up for the fifth time. It’s clear I need help, but the tiny voice in the back of my head keeps reminding me that they don’t like Loki. They reallydon’t like Loki. But they like me, even though I left abruptly four years ago and have barely spoken to any of them since.

Steve sends me updates from time to time, and every few weeks he shoots a message begging me to come home, but I just couldn’t. I feared the day they’d find out the truth. And that day… is propelling towards me at an alarming speed. Might as well get it over with. If I’m lucky they’ll help me before disowning me. Wait, is it really disowningwhen the family in question isn’t blood related? I slap myself out of the distraction. It doesn’t matter. The universe has already dealt my cards. It has been decided, and I may not like it, but there it is. I have to play the hand I’m given.

With a shaky thumb I dial the number again. The green button looks like a great big danger sign, but this time my resolve holds. The phone rings two times before someone answer.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice is equal parts relieved and worried.

“Hiya, Cap,” I reply, feeling incredibly small. I try to keep my voice light, but it’s impossible to conceal my desperation. It’s been years since I’ve talked to him, and I’m so nervous I could puke.

There’s voices in the background, someone’s dragging a chair over the floor – probably Tony, I think before swallowing that hard lump in my throat. I’m really doing this. Now.

“Hang on,” Steve says and there’s a sharp beep. “You’re on speaker.”

“I’m impressed you know the right button,” a voice shoots, and I smile despite myself. I miss Natasha so much.

Steve scoffs and mutters something unintelligible. Multiple voices laughing. Great. The whole gang is there. My heart is beating so hard I can feel my sweater move.

“Y/N, you there?”

“I’m here,” I whisper shakily. “Fuck, I miss you guys so much!” There. It’s said. Whatever comes next at least they know it’s not their fault I left. Stupid universe.

“We miss you too, kid. Come home.” Tony sounds uncharacteristically vulnerable.

I shake my head as if they can see me. “I can’t, sorry. Not yet,” I add, even though I should say not ever.But that’s too much right now. I don’t even want to think about it, so I try to sound confident. “I need help.”

“Anything!”

They wouldn’t be so eager if they knew what I’m about to ask for. My eyes start burning, and I rub them hard. The prickly sensation is replaced by a dull ache and thousands of kaleidoscope stars.

“I might… might have to hold you to that. I…” I sigh. “I don’t know how to begin.”

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, before Nat interrupts.

“This has to do with why you ran away, right?”

Ran away.As if I’m a child running from strict parents. But she’s right, of course. She always seems to know what’s going on. There’s a pointed silence on the other side.

Clearing my throat, I study a bloodstain on the floor. It’s dark brown and almost perfectly round. It doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real anymore. “Sort of, yeah,” I begin. My voice is hollow. How do you go about explaining to your family that you’re in love with – no, more than that: irrevocably tied to a guy who has tried to kill them on more than one occasion? Gently, or rip off the band-aid?

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes and bang the back of my head on the wall. “I found out who my soulmate is... It’s Loki.” I grimace, waiting for the inevitable outburst of disgust from the other side.

There’s silence, then a loud “Aww, shit.”

“Hey, Clint.”

“Hey, Y/N. When are you coming home? Ow!” There’s a soft thwack. Someone, probably Natasha, has hit the back of his head.

No one says anything for a while. The only sound heard is the rustling of paper, a scraping chair, and something that sounds suspiciously like a giggle.

I’m getting antsy. Someone needs to say something. “Um, guys?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh, we’re still here. Just… had to settle something.” Steve sounds smug. “So. What do you need?”

What? This is not the reaction I expected. “Uh… you still want to help me?” I wince from my own voice. It’s so small and terrified, and it makes me disgusted from myself.

“Still want to… what the hell? Y/N! I thought you knew us better than that. You’re family.”

“But…” I can’t bring myself to say it out loud, but my thoughts spring to the fight Steve and Tony had when we found out Bucky was still alive.

“We’ve grown since that,” Steve answers to my unspoken thoughts. “We’re older and wiser now.”

“Speak for yourself, Captain Senior Citizen,” Tony injects, making everyone laugh.

My head is spinning.

“What do you need?” a quiet voice repeats, and my heart aches. Of all the people on the team, Bucky is the one I miss the most. He’s like a brother, a twin, almost, and I miss the comfortable silences between us. My heart bleed with guilt that I didn’t think I could tell him.

My voice cracks from the fear and sorrow and homesickness. “They took him. They took him from me and I couldn’t stop them. I need to find him, I need…” My voice trails off, leaving me in a bottomless pit of terror and what-ifs.

“Of course,” Nat says, and I picture the glance she sends to Clint. She knows how I feel. “I’ll come pick you up. The jet is ready for take-off.”

Smiling sadly to the phone, I shake my head. “Thank you. But I’m… I’m not even sure where…”

“We know where you are,” Tony says.

“What?”

“This is Stark we’re talking about,” Steve explains with a tiny chuckle. “Did you really think we’d let you wander off without backup?”

I don’t know whether I should be offended or relieved, so I laugh with him. “But how come –“

“Figured you wanted to be left alone,” Clint says. “And since you don’t like climbing the vents, well… We always have your back.”

Three hours later Clint greets me happily as I step out of the elevator. I’ve missed his hugs and positive pessimism.

“Y/N! It’s good to see you again,” he says as he lets go, keeping a firm grip on the coffee pot he’s using as a mug.

“You too,” I sign with a grin, wincing slightly when the smile tugs on a cut under my lip. Nodding to the coffee pot, I add: “Good to see nothing has changed.”

He tries to sign a reply, but spills coffee all over his shirt. “Aww, my coffee…”

I can’t help but laugh. “You know, if you drank it like normal people you’d probably have a lot less stained shirts.”

He looks between me and his shirt. “Well, when you say it like that, I feel a little stupid.”

Bucky is leaning on the wall when I enter the kitchen. One leg bent and his arms crossed over his chest. If I didn’t know better, I’d be scared. But skilled as he is in… assassinating people, he’ll never hurt me or anyone else he considers his family. When he sees me, his face lights up, but as I come closer, he scowls.

“Who did this to you?” His voice is low and menacing, and he reaches out to touch my black eye. “Did he –“

I shake my head frantically. “Calm down, Bucky. Loki would never – they did this. The ones who… who…” My voice cracks, and I can’t finish the sentence.

Bucky pulls me into a warm hug, and the moment my face hits his chest I start bawling. Every fear, every bit of frustration, all the anger I’ve swallowed the last few hours comes flooding out. I’m powerless to stop it. “What if… they kill him?” I sob, sniffing hard and almost inhaling Bucky’s shirt.

He stiffens for a brief moment, then relaxes again. “They won’t,” he says, sounding so confident I almost believe him. “If they wanted him dead they would’ve killed him on sight. Trust me.”

_______________________________________________________________________

We’re all gathered in the briefing room. Wanda looks at me, seeking permission to do what I’ve already asked her to. I nod again, and her eyes start to glow. My mind is whisked away in a red whirlwind. Images and pieces of conversation float to the surface before dipping back down. It hurts to be restrained like this, but I’ll endure anything if it can help me bring Loki back.

When she lets go of me, I collapse, and I would have crashed to the floor if Steve hadn’t been there to catch me. He lowers me gently into a chair, and someone hands me a glass of water.

As Wanda describes what she saw – she’s considerate enough to leave out all the irrelevant stuff – the rest of the team gapes. I don’t hear it all, but I catch enough to understand that there’s a vigilante group that consists of former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and that they’ve been after Loki for years. Something about bringing him to justice.

“I’ve heard about these guys,” Clint says and everyone turns. He fakes bashfulness and toes the floor before continuing. “I hear things. When you’re up high people tend to forget you’re there.”

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Bruce mutters, and I nod to him.

Clint scratches the scab off a cut on his nose. “They’re supposed to be shut down. According to the guys in the administration, S.H.I.E.L.D. nipped it in the bud before they could even meet up for the first time.”

“Well, apparently not.”

“And now these men has my brother?” Thor booms. He’s eager to get out there and find Loki, and for that I’m grateful. At least I’m not completely on my own in this. It’s just that we don’t know what we’re dealing with. If they’ve gotten their hands on portal tech…

_______________________________________________________________________

“Stand back!” Nat attaches the explosives to the wall while Bucky and I take cover. Thor takes a step to the side.

Ten seconds later the corridor lights up in an impressive display of yellows and oranges. I have to close my eyes to not go blind. When the spectacle dies down there’s a big hole where the wall once was, three guards on the floor, covered in rubble, and a very dusty and very confused Loki standing in the middle of the room. In one hand he has a dripping dagger. The other dagger is imbedded in the back of one of the guards.

“Brother!” Thor bellows, bounding over the piles of concrete and steel. Apparently one of the guards is still alive, because he lets out a muffled yelp as Thor steps on his stomach.

“Hello, Thor,” Loki greets coldly. He acts annoyed, but we can all see he’s pleased to see him again. “Get off me!” he grumbles when Thor picks him up, swinging him around like a child, sending dust flying everywhere.

Loki’s eyes are fixed on me the whole time, so I do the first thing I can think of: I give him a little wave, feeling slightly like Scotty in Star Trek when he can’t do the Vulcan salute.

“My apologies,” Thor says, following Loki’s eyes. He shoves him in my direction. “That was selfish of me.”

I try to tell him that it’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world now that we’re together again, but my voice is gone. Only Loki exists at the moment.

“Ahem.” Bucky clears his throat, bringing us both out of our reverie. “You do know that if you do know that if you break her heart all of the Avengers will rain fire and sulphur over you, right?” He gives Loki his signature death scowl.

Loki nods once. “I would expect nothing less.”

Nat grabs my hand to get my attention. “Um, guys? Clint says he’s ready with the quinjet. We better hurry. The place will be crawling with guards soon, as much as we all love fighting, we’ve got a schedule to keep.”

“Yes, Mom,” I tease, sticking out my tongue, but I’m ready to leave.

Climbing back over the fallen wall, we hurry through the long, winding corridors; Bucky and Natasha in front, and Thor making up the rear guard.

Suddenly cold fingers entwine with my own. Heart in my throat, I glance over to my right. Loki’s eyes are glittering, and he’s smiling from ear to ear. “Hello,” he says quietly, lifting my hand to his lips. The kiss is brief, and soft, and sets off sparks in my belly.

“Told you I’d come find you,” I reply, slightly out of breath. I’m not sure it’s because we’re running.

_______________________________________________________________________

Because you asked for it, I’m tagging you:

@river-alice-wolf @oatballsoffury @80percentmarvel @kybaeza @tardis-is-mine @darkforestbl0g and also @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte , because I tag you in all my stories.

#loki x reader #oneshot #everyone lives #soulmates #loki laufeyson #mcu sort of?#I found you #fluff #angst #writing is hard

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