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kiwi-tai · 3 years ago

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Listen, I LOVE your tis the damn season fic 😍 pleaseeee would you write an exile based fic for like noahxmc or Marisolxmc or honestly even more garyxmc?? I will name my firstborn after you if you do (jk no kids for me,,, but maybe like a cat or hamster)

wait anon your on to something here!!! this is big brain stuff! Kiwi is a cute name for a cat or hamster 👀

to work with the plot I made this pre love island I hope you don’t mind also took some liberties with the mc thing, like it can still be mc but i used you so second person point of view, but its good promise at least i think so i really hope you like it <3

exile

pairing: Noah x MC

summary: Noah lost you, no let you go—ok more like he made you go. But that didn’t mean he felt any good about it, especially not when he sees you with someone new.

note: Noah is a dick, is it my projected thoughts on how his route goes? idk, Noah just gives me the type to second guess his relationships and fuck them up so here is this fic 🤗 there are some lines that oof i get chills i love them its short, but honestly too powerful i had to stop (yeah im hyping myself up on this one i feel like i really did something here) anon idk if you wanted cute stuff but if you did this is such an angsty song im sorry if so. Also I posted this on my Ao3 too.

Ao3 Link

The champagne was being passed around, but Noah was itching for something a little stronger. The incessant chatter that filled the room irked him, he was too used to the calm quiet that filled the library where he spent most days. Even when he was off, school was still in session so he couldn’t spend time with his siblings and he spent most of his free days alone in his apartment reading or watering his plants. By choice, some would remind him, but he tried not to think of that despite how hard this night is setting out to be. He tried not to think of you.

Twinkling lights hung over head, the best man was clinking a fork to the top of his glass of bubbly. He sat alone in a sea of family and friends that were not his at the wedding of one of his close friends that he had happened to meet with you. Who he reminds himself he has to stop thinking about, but it's easy when he can busy himself with filing or logging information at work and especially hard when your perfume lingers in the air because you’re sat two tables away. Two tables away, a distance of probably twelve feet, but in reality it felt more like there was an endless ocean of murky violent water in between the two of you.

Noah’s world was once blended with yours so perfect and seamlessly—or so he likes to think. It is always so much easier to remember the memories in the glittering haze of nostalgia where everything feels fuzzy and warm. But maybe it had been. Maybe things were perfect and how they should have stayed. With your clothes in half his closet, your toothbrush in his bathroom, your notes littering the fridge and edge of the front door. Those were all gone now, except the notes, he always kept those. He still hasn't managed to throw them out; the brightly colored post-its still sit in a box under his bed with the pictures in frames that used to sit on the mantel. His sister had begged him to put them away, you’ll feel much better, she told him.

But the man had found his worst enemy these days to be his mind, cruel and treacherous twisting up all his thoughts and anything he’d come by to fill him with reminders and images of you. He didn’t need the photographs when he closed his eyes, there was your smile. There was an old woman on the bus wearing a sage jacket, your favorite color. The little kids kept wanting him to read The Little Prince, there was your voice along with his reading the tale and making little voices as you went. Everything was you. Worst of all it's his mind that got him to where he is now. It filled up that ocean, added the sharks and sharp waves, threw in a kraken just for the heck of it.

Who was Noah if not his own worst enemy.

He really did hate himself for letting you go, making you go, he should say, but he doesn’t because you're the one who packed your bags, who picked up your things and scraped his apartment and his life clean of you. Until this wedding that neither of you could escape. The clash of two worlds, that had once been one. He just didn’t expect this. That person by your side. Their arm around your chair and their hand rubbing your shoulder. He felt sick, he hated it. He hated the sight of you with someone else. It was like some twisted nightmare.

No, it felt like a movie he had seen before. He was never one for movies, but you loved the cinema and would drag him to every film you wanted to see. At first Noah thought he would struggle to stomach them. He didn't have a problem with sitting still for the two hours and some stories weren’t bad, he just missed the literary prose that came with novels. The eloquent words that would flow from a page that he never felt the dialogue of a movie could replicate. But he quickly found the beauty of the reflected projector light on your face, the twinkle in your eye as you watched. The flow of emotion these films caused you. He relished the sight of every laugh, tear, and jump as he got to see the beauty of these stories in you.

This scene, however, was not from one of the movies he enjoyed. He liked the adventure films, even the rare sci-fi. He enjoyed the light heartedness that came with romantic comedies. He loathed the dramas. The deep shocking stories that would weld tears in the eyes of the theater goers. The raw moments like these where silence, even if it was only the one he created around him, echoed and prickled his skin as if it were a thousand needles.

The groomsman and bridesmaid end their speeches as the band starts to play a song for the wedding couple. He should be watching his friend and their partner share their first dance, but the person you are with whispers something in your ear and you laugh. It was a sound he had been craving to hear since you had been gone, but the sound cuts at his heart and as you whispered back to them it only poured salt to the bleeding wound. It makes him angry seeing you like that, it was as if your world hadn’t shattered the way his did with you gone. As if this moment was easy. Did your heart not break like his? Had you not spent nights crying as you read over poems and scribbled notes on the margins of books? Did it not pain you to walk the aisles and see someone that looked like him? To turn everywhere and see him in the faces of strangers, hear his voice in the sound of music, feel him in the wrinkle of bed sheets?

He is swallowed up in the rising ocean tide overtaken by the current and too far gone to notice anything but you and them. His fist clenched, making his fingernails dig into his palms. Noah would give anything to go back to a few months before. His mind, the instigator, fills his head with memories now. Every time he made you laugh louder than you were now. Every pretty little moment: the lingering kisses, the grocery shopping, the stolen touches, the times you spent with his family, all the times he fell deeper in love with you.

It made him see red, a fury he wasn’t used to feeling, of maybe he didn’t want to admit he felt too often, as jealousy bubbled in his blood. He needed a drink. Noah bee lines to the bar to order himself a rum and coke, making sure to tell the bartender to keep the soda to a minimum. He could get through this night; he just had to calm down. He hated anger. The way it clung to him like wet clothes after getting caught in the rain— or after diving into the ocean head first in your best suit at your friend's wedding.

He’s too caught up in it all to notice you till you order a drink beside him. Now you're so close he can smell the hints of lavender. It almost does the job of bringing him down from his clouded jealousy, but the look on your face as you turn to him resolves him to spite instead.

“What is your problem, Noah?”

“I beg your pardon”. He’s better than he expects at feigning nonchalantness, it’s his pride, he thinks, if he can just get you to feel as bad as he does, maybe he might feel a little better.

“Don’t— I would very much appreciate it if you would stop glaring at me and date.”

“I can't look around the room?”

“You were staring.”

“Must have just been lost in thought,” he shrugs and he hears you mumbling to yourself. It’s your tell, it's how he knows he's accomplished his mission, you’re just as angry as he is now.

You fake a smile and thank the bartender as they lay down your drink on the bar. After taking a sip you sigh, but he spots the crinkle in your nose, still angry, “Look, this room is big enough for one of us to be on one side, the other on the other and then no one has a problem.”

Simple enough, but could he do that? He thinks he might just so he doesn’t ruin this wedding for his friend, but this sick twisted part of him doesn’t care. He hasn’t seen you in so long and though he wishes it were on nicer terms, if a screaming match is all he can get from you he’ll take it and hate himself later. “It's that simple, huh?”

“Oh my god,” you shake your head.

Noah leans over motioning to his chest, voice rising to a plea, “I’m sitting here with my fucking heart ripped out of my chest and you’re—” galavanting off with your date he would have finished but you’re quick to stop him.

“Oh, i'm sorry, Noah is me trying to move on after you— you broke up with me offending you?” You quirk your head at him and scoff, “Your heart ripped out of your chest,” it's a bitter laugh that leaves your lips now, not like the joyful one he had heard moments before and he kicks himself because he's dug this hole. Six feet deep in the ground, but god does he not want to lie in it.

“Don’t give me your high and mighty crap right now,” you continue, “How do you think I feel? For me to pour out every fucking inch of my heart to you and for you to doubt that?” Your voice cracks and the tears start to form in your eyes, but you’ve learned to get the anger out first before they start to roll, “I moved out of my apartment when my lease was up. I got an offer for a job in Manchester— a real fucking good one, but you didn’t know that. No, cause I didnt even give it a second thought? Why when I loved my life in Romford? I loved the life I was building with you and I turned it down.”

You poke at his chest and the tears fall now, “No, Noah, you don’t get to sit there and be angry with me. You fucked this up.”

He wants to reach out and hold you, you're so close now he could if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, knowing you’d just hate him further. He thinks of all the ways he could beg, cry with you, scream that he loves you. But as much as this felt like a scene from a movie, it wasn’t. He lost you way back in the end of the first act and there was no love confessed reunions to this film. Not like the romantic comedies. He was not the leading man. Some dark-haired suave Mr. Darcy type who’d get looked past for all his shitty fucking behavior because he’s here crying and telling you he loves you.

No, this was one of those films that ends in tragedy.

#litg #love island the game #litg s2 #kiwi talks #litg season 2 #litg fic #litg noah #litg Noah x mc #noah x mc #guys I really like this fic wtf #Alexa play To Be So Lonely by Harry Styles for Noah pls #i think I love this so much because I thought for months exile was about Harry and Taylor till I realized Joe co wrote the song #i am a child of divorce #also to me this happened and like a year or so later Noah is on love island #im learning to write more second perspective but I was really tempted to make this Noah’s ex Priya #Oop maybe Hope did have something to worry about lmao #realizing there is not a single direct mention of exile in this fic

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bigskydreaming · 3 years ago

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Hi, I was reading your post about Jason punching Dick in the face when Dick revealed he fake his death was bullshit ( which it was) and it reminded me of an issue/question that has bothered me for sometime.

Why did people believe Dick was actually dead?

I’m not the most avid comic reader so maybe I missed something but it was always weird to me that everyone just accepted this especially given how Bruce was acting or should I say wasn’t acting.

This is a man when his child died another child had to come along and told him sir you are being too violent and emotional you need supervision. When his other child died he went all over the universe to bring him back to life because he knew it was possible ( which was happening at the same time), so why didn’t anyone think it was weird he wasn’t doing that for Dick. Can you imagine Dick really dying that soon after Damian it would be injustice Batman Version. You are telling me that Tim, Jason or Barbara didn’t think it was weird that Bruce didn’t also bring Dick’s corpse to the bring Damian back to life mission or mention it to themselves. Like what more likely Dick dead and Bruce is handling it well or that he fake his death to do something stupid and Dangerous after his partner/brother/ little bit my son the feelings are complicated died after he was knocked out and woke up to his corpse.

Oh man, this is like, the entire nature of my beef?

(Slight derail just to emphasize the fact real quick that Dick DID actually die, he was just revived quickly, but like, the trauma of his death was very real and its not like anyone was clued into Luthor having a resurrection backdoor built into his literal murder of Dick in the actual moment of it happening. So Dick’s death wasn’t fake, and additionally, he didn’t have anything to do with like, telling people about it, because he was literally comatose in the cave and recovering while Bruce was telling people....by the time Dick woke up in the cave, we already know that Alfred at least had already been convinced by Bruce that Dick was dead, so I have a kneejerk need to pushback against the Dick faked his death narrative by reminding people wherever possible that Dick had no agency in the spreading of that narrative.

It happened without him being involved, and the only actual contribution he ever made to it was just not revealing he was alive before Grayson #12, after Bruce like.....emotionally, mentally and physically badgered him into accepting that doing so would be directly harmful to his family and he didn’t want to be the reason more people died when like, people had just died because he ‘let’ himself be captured and interrogated by Power Woman’s Lasso of Submission, did he?

SORRY TO BE PEDANTIC, just wanted to start this off on a clarification, even though I know the aim of your ask was very much in tune with the rest of my response. A lot of people don’t read the actual comics, so like, I’m never gonna skip over an opportunity to emphasize that the shorthand people use to refer to Dick’s death and the year he was with Spyral, is like, literally just shorthand for describing it. Its not actually an accurate description of how all that went down and who had the most hand in it).

BUT ANYWAY. BACK TO THE MEAT OF THE BEEF.

Okay so like, not only was the entire family and Bruce himself giving Dick shit for his death and Spyral, like, PAINFULLY egregious because it was literal victim blaming in every possible sense of the word....

None of it made a LICK of sense with ANY of their characterizations, and they ONLY all accepted it on face value because the Plot Demanded It, and when you're like, no, as a reader I say The Plot Demanded It is not a good enough reason for me to be like well sure, that makes sense......looking at the characters ACTUAL actions at face value pretty much just makes them all look like assholes?

Like, Tim has never gracefully accepted anyone's death. Ever. This is core characterization for him. He will go to the ends of the earth for his loved ones and to bring them back, prove they're not dead, refuse to let death be the final verdict for them. He was tempted to use the Lazarus Pit to bring his parents back to life. He refused to accept Bruce was dead long before he had any proof whatsoever of that theory. He tried to clone his BFF/future-husband Kon in his fucking basement like, dude was two whole inches away from going Full Dark Side in his quest to bring back a lost loved one no matter WHAT the cost.....and then you've got Dick unmasked onscreen, killed offscreen, and Bruce then reporting to the rest of them with zero inflection 'oh Dick's dead now. Its very sad' and Tim's just like, sure. Sounds legit.

I mean?!?!

And you're SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DAMIAN THING! Bruce LITERALLY LITERALLY LITERALLY went BEYOND the ends of the Earth, like, he full on chartered a fucking space ship to fly his whole family out to APOKOLIPS to bring Damian back from the dead by going to EXTREME lengths.....WHILE everyone else thought Dick was dead....

And not a single person looked at Bruce and was like, okay, not that we're not down to do this for Damian because we miss Stabby Smurf something fierce ourselves, but.....what the fuck is UP with you dude? Why aren't you displaying ANY hint of this same kind of energy in regards to your eldest son that you said you watched die right in front of you?

Like....I don't know that we were actually ever told that Dick's coffin was empty or had a fake in it, but like....this family of detectives who refuse to accept death, defy death, COME BACK FROM THE DEAD....not a single one of them said like, okay, if I'm gonna like, ACCEPT accept that Dick is dead and gone for good, I need to at least just see him one last time? That's literally all it would have taken for someone to realize hey something's a little wonky here. Where's the dead body, Pops?

Since when has Jason ever missed an opportunity to prove Bruce is a) full of shit, b) acting like an emotionless robot and all his kids deserve better especially when they've just like....died, c) just factually incorrect and wrong and jumped to a conclusion before it was conclusively proved, d) lying like a liar or e) all of the above?

Nobody even ASKED if Dick's body could be put in a Lazarus Pit? Yeah, Jason wouldn't necessarily recommend it himself, given what it put him through, but actually fuck that, I take that back, because I'm NOT actually of the opinion that Jason full on hates his life and actively spends every second of every day wishing he hadn't been resurrected, even if it had come with a huge buffet of additional trauma and pain.

And that's kinda what's implied when people just take it for granted that he would never be on board with any scenario involving using a Lazarus Pit to bring Dick back, because it suggests that based even just on his own experiences and feelings, he honestly believes Dick would prefer being dead and not have ANY further opportunities to be with his loved ones, his friends, help save the damn world again at some future point.....that Jason, projecting based just off himself, legit feels Dick would rather be dead than have another shot at life even WITH the downsides of Lazarus Pit usage? Nope. Sorry, I don't buy it.

Speaking of not buying it.....you know what was missing from all those soliloquies the others monologued at Dick about how they felt and were hurt and just devastated by his death, to such a point they can't seem to muster a single shred of happiness that he's NOT dead still -

(seriously, Damian was the ONLY person in ALL THE LANDS OF EMOTION-HAVING who expressed ANY kind of positive reaction to having Dick back. We were so fucking cheated of like.....ANY opportunity to have the characters show just how much they valued him by just being fucking HAPPY he was alive, no matter what else was involved....and then most of fandom compounded that by for years being like mmmm, no, Dick didn't get yelled at enough by his family for what HE put THEM through. Needs more yelling. More punching too. Bad Dick. Bad. This is the only way you'll learn not to die and get shipped off on a mission that you don't want but at least is to protect your family after being beaten into it by your dad whilst victim blaming you for dying in the first place. WHEN WILL YOU LEARN TO THINK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR FEELINGS FOR A CHANGE, DICK?!?)

- But like, BUT I DIGRESS aside....you know what was missing from all those monologues about how hard DICK'S death and ensuing year of basically exile from his loved ones was for EVERYONE BUT HIM?

We never got a single line of explanation as to what everyone else officially thinks even happened to him in the first place?

Like, did Bruce straight up just say oh bad news kids, your brother umm. Expired. Spontaneously. There's no one to blame, he just keeled over, its all very sad.

Is that how that went down?

You're telling me that the explanation of Dick's death didn't come with a single pointed finger at someone for this family of blame-happy vigilantes to like, BLAME for the loss of this brother they all mourned oh so much, they just couldn't help but blame him for all the hurt it caused them?

The family that in every other fic is like OBSESSED with avenging and being avenged and all things vengeful and even tangentially vengeance-y....like didn't ask for a single detail on whomst the fuck deprived us of our brother-having?

Where were the attempts on Luthor's life by Jason (who I mean, yeah I know it was in a previous continuity, but erasing that timeline doesn't erase my awareness of the time Dick killed Jason's murderer so like.....mmm, just saying, woulda been nice)....where was the rage directed at the Crime Syndicate and references to how seriously and personally the Batfam took making sure that they were PUNISHED for all this and would never be free to wreak havoc on their world or their family again? What did they tell Damian when he came back to life, and how are you going to tell me that this fraternal little ball of fury didn't aim himself like a cannonball at whomever the fuck had DARED take HIS Batman from him when Damian wasn't around to have his back?

Not only does everyone else's desire to be avenged start falling really flat the second you factor in hey maybe Dick feels "mmm what about MY avenging" sometimes, and why doesn't anyone ever care about doing that for him.....but also, y'know what REALLY sucks about the ONLY person we actually SEE being blamed for Dick's death and ensuing absence being like....Dick himself?

Not only were his family all super keen on making all of this HIS fault and HIM the bad guy because of how it made them all feeeeeeel (and meanwhile fuck his feelings, am I right Batfam hfaklshfklahfkla).....

They somehow found a way to justify prioritizing this OVER ever even getting around to blaming some villain for his death in the FIRST place, in the entire year or so they thought he was still dead!

Like, you couldn't come up with a single target in all that time, but Dick's back two seconds, and you don't even give him a chance to EXPLAIN before you're punching him, shutting him down with 'I expected better from you' and turning away with 'I don't want to hear it, why am I surprised Dick Grayson disappointed me again'?

afshklfhalfhalfhla

Make it make sense!

And like, it won't, cuz it doesn't, and it never will, and like I said at the top, the ONLY reason it all played out this way is because DC doesn't give a fuck about character development and deemed it necessary to go down this way for the sake of the plot (which was totes worth it, I mean, glad we sacrificed characters for this A+ plot which was clearly the greatest plot of all time and definitely justified every story choice made or not made around it loooool).

BUT.

BUT BUT BUT.

The problem isn't JUST that DC is stupid, even though that is an eternal mood and quite the problem.

Its that the SECOND large parts of fandom decided to play along with DC and just accept the story at face value, only add to it and play into it exactly as it happened in canon with no significant deviations, and like, heaping on the LITERAL abuse from Dick's siblings while ignoring the LITERAL abuse from his father....

THAT....is when all of this becomes relevant.

Because the second people decided TO engage with the reasoning DC gave for what Bruce did and how and what Dick did and how and just not mess with any of that and have it all play out exactly like that...

The second people are like, okay we're FINE with not just dismissing this story as OOC writing that doesn't make any sense, and actually VALIDATING it to various degrees by engaging with it as is....

That's when 'OOC writing' stops being an excuse or explanation for alllll of the above gaps in character logic and actions.

Because its like, when you had abundant chance to REJECT this story and say nope, this was bullshit from start to finish and I'm not here for it, when you were just as capable of transforming literally ANY aspect of this story you didn't like into something that made more sense to you....

And you chose not to.

That's.....accepting it as valid writing. You were like, okay, I'm game to just treat this as a thing that happened, just like they said that happened.

For the chance to give Dick shit for it, see. For the angst, see.

And that's when I'm like okay cool, so when engaging with this story as is and accepting it on face value and just delving into the characters as they were SHOWN interacting with and around these events......for the angst or whatever....

You guys just all decided en masse to just hop, skip and jump over allllllllll the opportunities for angst inherent in examining even ANY SINGLE ONE of the above lapses in judgment or hypocrisy on the parts of the characters (who don't get to be excused by OOC writing if you're not going to call the story an example of OOC writing, whoops).

And its just like, uh, what's up with that?

#lol thank you for this ask tho #I havent gone on a good Spyral rant in months #it does wonders for my pores

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andrea-lyn · 3 years ago

Text

The Recs (Less Travelled)

I’m excited to bring you the first installment of my ‘roads less travelled’ recs! I will be doing another round of this, probably once the Ted Lasso fic tag hits about 25 pages, and then I’ll also grab a couple more fandoms to collect in there!

The Rules:

Each fandom/pairing was sorted on Archive of Our Own by completed works. Anything recced here was not in the first ten pages when sorted by kudos at the time of reccing. There may be some more well-known authors on this list, but the specific fics I’ve picked are ones that didn’t crack that top ten or just didn’t get much traction and I think deserve it, so hopefully I have also balanced it out with other under the radar (and still great!) works. As ever, I have a pinned post of my other recs (none have been duplicated from there), so you can also check those out! Under the cut you’ll find 10 recs in each fandom for:

Raven Cycle

Roswell New Mexico

The Old Guard

Inception

Star Trek (mainly Kirk/McCoy)

The Raven Cycle

savor all the little pieces by littlelionvanz

“Since when do you garden?”

Ronan snorted, “Since I grew up on a fucking farm, genius. Jesus who gave you permission to pursue higher education.”

the old grip of the familiar by littleseal

"There is a single black feather and a printed out picture of Gansey, Blue and Cheng standing in front of some fucking monument Ronan didn’t care enough to remember the name of. Gansey sent it to Ronan’s phone some time ago, but it sat in his messages until Adam picked it up and grinned at it so hard that, one afternoon later, Ronan cursed and kicked and glared his old printer back to life in order to print it out.

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in love with a hoarder."

Adam collects things. Ronan is in love with him.

No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin by gansey_is_our_king

Ronan Lynch has wanted to kiss Adam Parrish for a long time.

(alternately titled: four times that Ronan could have kissed Adam)

Cheers to Another Seven Years! by skyermirth

Adam left Henrietta for Harvard and never returned. Now, seven years has passed, and an unexpected work assignment has brought him back to a place and people he hardly recognizes.

Row, row, row your boat by emmerrr

“What. Why are you smiling at me,” he says suspiciously.

Adam shrugs. “You’re cute.”

“I’m not cute, I’m terrifying.”

“Terrifyingly cute,” Adam says.

and now the world is ours to take / and every single move is ours to make by thatlittleblackcat

"Adam was the scientist, Ronan was the data, and Orphan Girl was the key that explained the strange outliers that Ronan presented, his previously unexplainable actions."

Adam sorts out his feelings, Ronan helps him, Gansey is the number one dad friend, Blue is the number one mom friend and Henry tries to make Ronan smile. Otherwise known as the story of how Orphan Girl became Opal.

All These Things You Make Me Feel by SilverOpals394

It was late. Adam could feel the long day catching up to him as he left Boyd’s, all his energy exhausted. When he started his car, the tape deck whirred to life once more. He sighed and raised his hand to turn it off, but before he did a soft melody began to play.

AU in which the mixtape Ronan made for Adam only plays the murder squash song until Adam realizes he's in love with Ronan, too.

Ways to Communicate by Jalules

Blue Sargent reflects on an early memory (and gets busy with her boyfriends.)

(The two things are related, trust me.)

Hold Me Closer, I'm Safe in Your Arms by actuallyronanlynch

“You wanna tell me why I had to hear from Henry Cheng that my boyfriend was at the hospital?” Adam hissed, though his voice wasn’t as acidic as it could’ve been. Ronan took small victories where he could.

“You don’t have a cellphone,” Ronan pointed out flatly. “It’s not like I could’ve gotten a hold of you.”

arts and crafts and the inevitability of death by sunshineinthestorm

Adam comes to the public library in search of a study spot, not a boyfriend.

But it must be his lucky day—because he ends up with a bit of both.

Roswell New Mexico

a conversation between insignificant others by Bellakitse

“Hey…have you noticed that our boyfriends are madly in love with each other?"

“You noticed that too, huh,” she answers dryly, letting out a huff of reluctant amusement.

***

Forrest and Maria share a drink and a conversation and start a friendship.

Own Personal Hell by BeStillMySlashyHeart

Now that Isobel's getting the hang of her telekinesis, Michael decides to test out his telepathic abilities. It backfires. Badly. Now Michael's trapped inside his own mind and only one person can break him out.

Drop the Hammer by brightloveee

Max makes a new friend at the shooting range, who turns out to be even more bad-ass than he expected.

(Takes place mid-S1)

Boys Like You by forgadgetsandgizmos

Curly, dirty blond hair (the mere description ‘curly’ felt like an injustice) twisted in every direction off his head, a sharp contrast with the scruff darkening his strong jawline and scowl-ridden face.

Alex made a mental note to compliment Maria on her excellent taste in men.

—

Or, Alex has coffee with Maria's one-night stand, a man who he definitely does not have a crush on.

let's exchange the experience by lostin_space

Michael decides they need to quarantine.

Michael floods Alex with love and care over and over and over.

This Is Hardcore by Anonymous

Michael makes a proposal. Alex accepts. Michael wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

i don't know what to think (but i think of supernovas) by Milzilla

michael discovers that the console can talk. then, he discovers it can do far more than that.

iridescence on skin by Lire_Casander

In a world where (almost) everyone has a tattoo on their right wrist with one set of coordinates that point to the place where their soulmate is born, Alex thought he wouldn't be any different. He couldn't be more mistaken.

He has two.

The Real Thing by elliebird

Max checks on Michael the morning after Michael saves Max’s ass from Wyatt Long and his dumbass buddies. He sees more than he’s supposed to.

Written for a Tumblr anon who one of their friends walking in on them or anyone of them finding out about Michael and Alex in an interesting way

Sundering by romancandles

“You know it was just an Air Force balloon, right?” says Alex.

Michael smirks. “That’s what they want you to think,” he says, with a wink.

The Old Guard

Peer Reviewed by ishandahalf

[From:] Journal of Medieval Studies ([email protected])

[Subject:] Ad-hoc note from the editor

I have noticed an uncommon level of animosity in your responses to your reviewers (or rather, one reviewer in particular). I am writing to ask if you would please do your best to keep your interactions civil. In fairness, I have also sent a similar request to the reviewer you seem to have this friction with. I trust you will both try and remain more professional in the future.

Again, thank you for submitting your work to this journal.

Sincerely,

James Copley, PhD

Editor-in-Chief

Journal of Medieval Studies

An (accidental) academic epistolary romance as (inadvertently) documented via a (theoretically) rigorously blinded peer review process.[citation needed]

third for a word and the song keeps going Macremae

It was honestly shaping up to be a pretty uneventful year before the Vatican got on Nicky’s bad side.

Or: three times in 2008 that the team genuinely thought about killing Nicky if only to get him to shut up about the changes to the Catholic English Mass and his unrelenting opinions on them, and one time Nile did.

Apex Predators In Island Ecosystems (Freeman et al., in press) by Sixthlight

Palaeobotany PhD student Nile Freeman and her supervisor Joe al-Kaysani are invited to billionaire Stephen Merrick’s new project – a theme park full of cloned dinosaurs. What could possibly go wrong?

This Rough Magic by Marivan

When Joe came to Scotland to study the sea, he did not expect to also encounter a beautiful man claiming that A. he’s a selkie and B. they’re married because Joe picked up his scarf.

It sounds like a fairy tale and that’s a problem. Because Joe’s a scientist. And selkies don’t exist.

Wars for the broken by Yuliares

Five years into his exile, Booker is joined by a companion he never expected to meet. Together, they try to work on healing.

Sometimes they go down to the sewers just so she can scream and scream. “I like to hear it echo,” she explains. “Underwater, you can’t hear anything. Here, at least I can be heard.”

“I don’t feel like a warrior anymore,” she tells him, throwing bread crumbs at pigeons. “I feel broken.”

“You’re still a warrior,” he says roughly. “This is still fighting.”

a good (eighth) impression by deanniker

Over the next few months, Joe runs into Nicky every so often at the farmer’s market. Some weekends Nicky doesn’t make it, because of his work schedule - Joe doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t ask, though he does start to recognize when one of those missing weekends is coming up because Nicky will stock up on things with longer shelf-life. When they do run into each other, they make small talk and move through the stalls together.

Joe doesn’t mention it to Lykon when he stops by, because it is kind of weird, that Lykon’s ex-boyfriend texts Joe things like - If you’re here, the apples look particularly good this week and thank you for that recipe, I did not know what I was going to do with that much couscous

Or,

Joe wouldn't usually consider starting anything with his best friend's ex, but as long as they keep it casual, it shouldn't be weird... right?

get back to where you once belonged by tenderjock

Nile takes a sip of her cappuccino and closes her eyes.

(Booker and Nile get that coffee. Life happens, along the way.)

a house; a home by mehm

“Is this a kidnapping?” Joe asks as Nicky checks both their seat belts. “Like, I don’t mind. It’s just not quite what I expected for my birthday.”

In which Joe gets a birthday surprise, because that’s the stuff you have time for when you and the love of your life become mortal at the same time.

the ties that bind by damaskrose

“There’s a story I heard many times,” Andy begins, “in the Mediterranean. Threads of fate and three sisters. One to spin, one to measure, and one to cut.”

Clutter And Croutons by flawedamythyst

Joe and Nicky have an argument, and then Nicky talks to Nile about what it really means to be in a relationship for 900 years.

Inception

My Big Fat Slightly Annoying Wedding by jibrailis

Arthur and Eames elope for ~tax reasons. Certain people in their lives are not happy at the lack of a wedding.

Remember Sydney by pathera

When Eames shambles into the safe house outside of London, he finds a red light blinking on the phone.

For the inception_kink prompt:

Arthur is on a plane which is about to crash. No way anyone is going to survive. Instead of panicking he calmly calls the team's office and gets the answering machine. He hangs up before the plane crashes.

Give me Arthur's last message to the team.

(TW: Character Death / Angst)

Of Such Deceitfulness and Suavity by delires

In which emotions manifest themselves in unusual ways.

YO, K2tog (it's like a code) by lazulisong

“Oh my God,” moans Arthur. “I’ve paid less for Somnacin. Good Somnacin.” A horrible thought strikes him. “How much is the yarn --”

“I want you to have an unguarded reaction,” Eames tells him, and pulls him up from the floor.

(They run an extraction on a knitter.)

hit the ground running by orphan_account

"I travelled halfway around the world for you. I dealt with the French for you."

Valley by wldnst

It's an old story: a knight, a prince, a kingdom in peril.

If This Is Rain Let It Fall On Me and Drown Me by Brangwen

We used to be so brave, Eames thought. Of the two of them, Arthur had always been the more fearless.

a gentle familiarity by jollypuppet

Two weeks later, Eames is on his doorstep with bad Italian takeout and a grin, and Arthur tells him he can sleep on the couch.

Your Crisis Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by sevenimpossiblethings

Arthur doesn't do snow, Ariadne is determined to be as Midwestern as possible, and blizzards make cell phone service unreliable.

Let’s Say I Do (I Do) by xsilverdreamsx

There were, perhaps some things worse that this, Arthur thinks, as he glares at the letter in his hand with his name printed clearly in bold ink, indicating his presence in two weeks for his esteemed marriage to one William H. Eames, III, at St. Catherine's Church in London, England.

Star Trek (predominantly Kirk/McCoy)

Show the World That Something Good Can Work by knune

Leonard McCoy is a doctor, not a personal assistant, and maybe that's why he can't stand working for Jim Kirk.

It's in the little things by winterover

Bones is bemused by a persistent secret admirer.

"Wedding" Away with It by pendrogon

One morning, Bones wakes up and he's single. By the same afternoon, he's married to Jim Kirk for Arbitrary Fic Reasons(TM).

How Long Will You Stay (For Your Whole Life) by withthepilot

Jim Kirk, deputy director of the Enterprise parks and recreation department, sees all of his hard work fall to pieces when budget specialist Leonard McCoy arrives from the state capital to cut Jim's budget and threaten the livelihoods of his colleagues. But thanks to a major parks project, Leonard finds a place in the department, as well as in Jim's life—and when all is said and done, Jim doesn't want him to leave.

All-Time Favorite by mardia

What to do when your best friend suddenly starts making new friends.

Joy Ride by Cards_Slash

While running for their lives from an alien species Kirk had accidentally enraged, they come across a car. And well, if you were to come across a car while being chased by aliens that wanted you dead, and you possessed some lingering knowledge of how to drive a car similar to said car, you would have decided to drive it toward the nearest cliff too.

Also a gunfight.

Syncytia by epistolic

He’d signed up for Starfleet on an impulse, but Starfleet meant James Tiberius Kirk: the first – and second, and third, and fourth – big mistake of Leonard McCoy’s life.

Renovation by canistakahari

Jim has a whammy put on him by an alien death ray and he suddenly craves domesticity. He's crazy with longing to shop at space!Ikea and get potted bamboo and he starts looking into adopting AND HE HATES HIMSELF AND CANNOT CONTROL THE SHIT. Luckily, McCoy is drunk all the time and plays house.

17:08 by butterflycell

She'd watched the news holos with a sick feeling, searching for information that was completely obvious in its absence. Amidst the reports of the the Enterprise's miraculous recovery and the damages sustained, there had been next to nothing about the crew or her captain. Jim had been mentioned only in passing, his name shied away from as his first officer limited interaction to the bare essentials.

The Honey of Hybla by shrift

"Bones, prepare to be my date."

#recs #fic recs #recs project #star trek recs #inception recs #the raven cycle recs #the old guard recs #roswell new mexico recs

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until-theend-oftheline · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Neverland - Part 2: Aimless

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: PTSD, Survivor’s guilt, Insomnia, aimlessness, mention of character deaths.

Squares Filled: Tony Stark for @star-spangled-bingo 2021 and Insomnia for @badthingshappenbingo

Word Count: 1400ish

A/N: Still no reader in this part - we will meet her in the next part.

Betaed by: @blacktithe7 - thank you love

MASTERLIST - TAGLIST

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Bucky couldn’t tell you why exactly, but his first stop had been visiting the lake where Tony had been put to rest. He parked some distance away from the house. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb or cause any pain to Pepper or the little girl. Instead he quietly snuck up to the lake across from the house.

Bucky wasn’t sure how long he stood there letting the night of December 16th 1991 play over and over in his mind. He had done a lot of things he wished he could have stopped himself from doing. Things that kept him up at night or pulled him from his sleep screaming at himself to stop. Every life he had taken haunted him and caused the insomnia he had battled ever since he had gotten control of his mind back. Every single one, but somehow, that night was clearer than the rest. Maybe it was because Howard had once been a friend, or maybe it was because Tony had grown up to become a friend of Steve’s. He wasn’t sure. He also knew he should have been angry at Tony for trying to kill him and Steve that day so long ago, but he wasn’t. He never had been. Bucky hadn’t wanted to die, but if he had died that day, it would have been justified. Bucky even resigned to his faith back then and had only started fighting back when Steve wouldn’t stop helping him, and Tony’s rage had turned on Bucky’s best friend. His only friend. The only man that had never given up on him.

Bucky didn’t realize he had started crying, and he had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard her walk up next to him. He only became aware of her when she handed him a handkerchief.

Bucky’s eyes briefly met Pepper’s as he took it before her eyes drifted to the lake. They stood there silently watching the stillness of the water, and Bucky desperately wished he knew what to say. He didn’t. He hardly ever did, so he kept quiet, not wanting to leave, but not sure if he had any right to stay either.

“He didn’t blame you anymore.” Pepper’s voice was quiet, hesitant almost but she sounded sure. “After Morgan was born, I think he started seeing everything differently. He felt betrayed by Steve to a degree, but he was also ashamed of what he had done. He never spoke about it much, but I knew him. Better than anyone I suspect.”

“He was right to blame me,” Bucky lowered his head.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Pepper turned around to face Bucky. “It’s so much more complicated than that Bucky. He was angry and hurt, but like I said, when Morgan was born he let go of all of that. If he had been here with us, I know he would have told you to do the same. What they made you do, there is no changing that. There is no bringing back Tony. We just have to find a way to live with the past. We have to live though, for the ones we lost.”

“I don’t know if I know how,” Bucky answered truthfully, his voice heavy with grief and guilt.

“When you figure out how to let go of it all like Tony did,” Pepper smiled, reaching out to give Bucky’s arm a slight squeeze, “then you’ll know.”

Bucky looked down at her hand before meeting her eyes. He gave her a sad grateful smile. He didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything.

“Do you want to come back to the house? Meet Morgan?” Pepper offered, making Bucky quickly shake his head. He didn’t want to do anything to upset the child.

“Okay. I’m heading back to her,” Pepper sighed was she turned to walk away but stopped, looking back up at him. “You’re always welcome here Bucky. You don’t have to try and sneak in. I doubt with all of Tony’s tech and Happy keeping an eye out, you could if you wanted too.”

Bucky smiled. He had been an idiot thinking no one would know he was here.

“That’s good,” Bucky nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

He stayed in front of the lake for a few minutes after Pepper disappeared back toward the house. He walked back to his bike, feeling a little lighter, but still not able to forgive himself for what he had done to the Stark family or to any of his other victims. He had hope though, hope that he would be able to find a way to live with it all, just like Pepper had advised him. He just had no idea how yet. So Bucky drifted around from town to town for a few weeks. He never stayed in the same place for more than a day. He told himself he was exploring his country, but he wasn’t. He felt aimless. He had no idea why he had left a place where he was at least doing some good to drift around with no direction at all. When he was on the run he had a goal; stay under the radar - don’t get caught. Now he was just… drifting.

He had no one left but Steve and maybe Sam. He had left the two of them behind to look for something; he had no idea what. He felt useless, and was almost ready to go back a month after he left, sitting awake in a hotel room hundreds of miles from New York. He had just about made up his mind when his phone suddenly rang, and Steve’s face appeared on the screen.

Bucky grumbled, slightly annoyed that Steve somehow always seemed to know when he needed to talk, even if Bucky never wanted too.

“Steve, it’s the middle of the night,” Bucky groaned into the phone, and he could practically feel Steve rolling his eyes at him.

“You weren’t sleeping, and it’s not night here yet,” Steve retorted, before pausing. “Bucky I have to tell you something… Becca she…”

“She died while I was gone. I know,” Bucky interrupted Steve. That was one of the many things that haunted Bucky at night. He had the chance to go see her when he was on the run or in exile. It would have been risky, but she had been alive.

“Yeah… I’m sorry Buck. I found out where she’s buried,” Steve said hesitantly.

Bucky felt as if the air was knocked from his chest. He hadn’t looked for her resting place, because visiting her would make it real. His little sister was no longer breathing the same air that he was. He no longer had a family, not aside from Steve that was, and with his decision, chances were Bucky would be forced to outlive him too.

Bucky had understood. He wanted Steve to be happy, and he wouldn’t have wanted Steve to choose any differently. He had encouraged his choice, and he would again.

“Stevie… I don’t know if…” Bucky stammered, and he heard Steve take a deep breath on the other end of the phone. Just like he usually did when he was getting ready for one of his speeches. Only nothing came.

“I’m gonna text you the address.” Steve announced, and it was Bucky’s turn to take a deep breath.

“Okay…”

“Bucky,” Steve tried, making Bucky shake his head even if he knew Steve couldn’t see him.

“I’m fine Stevie,” he lied.

“I think you should go see her. I think… well I think that might be where you need to go,” Steve said, without really saying anything. It always annoyed Bucky when he did that, but he was also too tired to argue.

“I might,” Bucky promised without promising too much. “Goodnight Steve. Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” Steve’s voice sounded before Bucky ended the call, waiting for the screen to light up with an address. He stared at the phone for a few minutes before tossing it onto the bedside table and throwing himself back onto the bed. Tears flew down Bucky’s cheeks as he stared into the ceiling. For the first time in forever, he let himself feel the loss of his family, and it hurt so badly he could hardly breath.

Reblogs spread my work and make me happy. Got a favorite part/line? Did something touch you? Do you relate in some way? Please tell me and make my day.

Bucky Barnes Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr @littlebittcrazy @sleepretreat @roxyspearing @jewels2876 @hellaqueerangelofthelord @blacktithe7 @danijimenezv @rumoured-whispers @becs-bunker @smoothdogsgirl @avengerscompound @grace-for-sale @scarletlingeries @averyrogers83 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @sorenmarie87 @docharleythegeekqueen @erosbellarke @the-wayward-robot @super100012 @lucifersbird @achishisha @awkwardfangirl2014 @igotkatiepowers @dottirose @panicatttckiss @kimmiestrawberrykiwi @sdciopo @deathofmissjackson @cosicas-cuquis @stormi-ames @anxiousamandapanda @miraclesoflove @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @rinthehufflepuff @hailmary-yramliah @pinknerdpanda @percywinchester27 @mysupernaturalfics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes

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crystalirises · 4 years ago

Text

The Exiled and The Forgotten

Hello! So this is a fic about Tommy and Fundy just talking about their issues in Drywaters. Essentially, this is part of a series of one-shots where Eret and Fundy find Tommy in exile and they take him to Drywaters to heal. This is a continuation of ‘Safe and Sound’ (which I think posted before on Tumblr?) and ‘You Reap What You Sow’ (which is on my ao3 one-shot book since I haven’t gotten the permission to crosspost here on Tumblr.) You should probably read those two first before understanding this one.

TW: Abandonment Issues, Implied Cheating (not really but Fundy thinks so, I don't write about actual cheating I just can't ;-;). and Mentions of Suicide and Suicidal Thoughts (Tommy pls ;-;)

Pls stay safe everyone!

ao3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/74251095

Fundy didn’t know how long he had been out, but it was the distinct smell of smoke and meat burning that made his eyes snap open. The hallway was dark, save for a small sliver of light that came from beneath the kitchen door. He yawned, wiping at his eyes as the world slowly focused into view. It took him a moment to realize that he was on the floor, a tattered blanket draped over him as though to keep away the chill of the night that seeped into the thin walls of the house. He forced himself to sit, startling awake as he realized that he must have fallen asleep while waiting for Dream to leave. Dream to leave… Dream… Dream had been there… Tommy…

Tommy! Fundy flung the closet door open, heart pounding in his chest as he found it to be empty. He took a deep breath, the smoke strong in the air as if… Fundy stood up, the blanket left discarded on the ground as he made his way to the kitchen, nearly tearing the door off its loose hinges in his haste to get there. A strong and sickening torrent of heat attacked him, choking as he tried to bat the gray smoke away from his face. “Tommy! Tommy! Tommy, where the fuck一”

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SHOUTING AT THREE IN THE MORNING?!” Fundy jumped at the response, coughing and wheezing as he moved away from the direction of the smoke.

As the smoke began to clear, Fundy saw Tommy standing by the poorly made table, two smoking plates of steak - if they could be called that - on top of it. Tommy had an exasperated look on his face, as if Fundy was being hysterical for no reason. “Tommy, why are you cooking at 3 AM?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and you told me not to leave the closet until Dream left. He left an hour ago. Honestly, man. I don’t know what you ever saw in that psychopath.” Fundy rolled his eyes, not ready to continue that point of conversation. He wasn’t sure if his heart could take it. The fox hybrid eyed the meat that was on the table, surprised that Tommy had even thought about making him food. Well, the meat looked awful and burnt to a fucking crisp but Fundy wasn’t going to say that outloud. “Are you going to keep standing there or are you going to sit and eat?”

“I would but… eh… I usually eat when the sun is up.” As if to emphasize his point, a yawn escaped him as Fundy settled on sitting against the creaky window ledge. Tommy shrugged, turning towards his meal. Fundy tried not to wince as Tommy began to eat. “Nightmares?”

“What fucking else? How the fuck could you sleep with Dream threatening to bash your door in? I couldn’t sleep a wink.” Fundy ran a hand through his hair, sighing as guilt ate at his heart. Tommy was right, he wasn’t sure how he’d fallen asleep. He forced himself to stand, moving to sit next to Tommy in some semblance of comfort. Fundy wasn’t really sure how to comfort someone after a nightmare. No one ever showed him how. He spared a glance at the teenager, shivering as he noticed soot clinging to Tommy’s shirt sleeve. “You know I think it was good that you found me. We both know Dream could’ve broken down the door if he really wanted to. Guess that’s what you get for being on his good side. He doesn’t act like a bitch around you.”

“Can we talk about something else? I’d rather not discuss my ex-fiance and the many reasons why he didn’t just smash my door.” They settled into an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t unnatural. Ever since Fundy and Eret brought Tommy to Drywaters, there has been an atmosphere of awkwardness and tension that permeated the air. Fundy couldn’t recall the last time he had even spoken to Tommy, the memories of tragedy and war muddling whatever positive moments he’d had in the past years. When was the last time they’d had a proper talk? When Tommy had mocked him in Pogtopia or when Tommy had publicly disowned him and threatened him during the elections? When did ‘uncle Tommy’ slowly change into just ‘Tommy’? Fundy couldn’t recall. “When you were in exile… what did you… you never told me一”

“Can we talk about something else? I’d rather not discuss my ex-fiance and the many reasons why he didn’t just smash my door.” They settled into an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t unnatural. Ever since Fundy and Eret brought Tommy to Drywaters, there has been an atmosphere of awkwardness and tension that permeated the air. Fundy couldn’t recall the last time he had even spoken to Tommy, the memories of tragedy and war muddling whatever positive moments he’d had in the past years. When was the last time they’d had a proper talk? When Tommy had mocked him in Pogtopia or when Tommy had publicly disowned him and threatened him during the elections? When did ‘uncle Tommy’ slowly change into just ‘Tommy’ ? Fundy couldn’t recall. “When you were in exile… what did you… you never told me一”

“It was during Manburg when I first met him.” Tommy fell into shocked silence, and Fundy took that as a sign to continue. “I don’t remember much about that day, but I know that I was upset. So, like I usually fucking do, I ran away to the forest until I collapsed by a lake… He was there.”

Fundy ignored Tommy muttering underneath his breath and continued with the story, “Ya know I thought he was going to kill me but he surprisingly left the moment I got there. So, I kept coming to the lake each time I was upset and he was always there, staring into nothing like the idiot he is.” He wished he could keep the amusement and endearment out of his voice, but he couldn’t help but remember the man that he’d fallen in love with. “One day, he decided to stay long enough to ask why I always looked upset each time I went near the lake, and it was stupid of me to tell him but… all I ever wanted was for someone to care enough to ask. So I told him why.”

“Horrible decision, really. 0/10 shouldn’t have done that.” Fundy nearly laughed as Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes that they were practically disappearing into his skull. “You could’ve chosen anyone but you chose the green boi. I’m not fucking surprised, you got Wilbur’s tastes in people. Should’ve taken lessons from me, big man. I’m a fucking expert in people.”

“Sure, you are. Is that why you’re still single?”

“Oh shut the fuck up, furry.” Fundy found himself cackling at the nickname, somehow not as irritated as he should be at 3 AM in the morning where he was usually ready to just kill anyone who decided it would be funny to wake him from his slumber. “Go on. Tell me about how you fell in love with Dream of all people. I won’t judge your tastes, but they’re clearly fucked.”

“Whatever, Tommy. I told him. It was hard, do you know how painful it was to pretend to be someone I wasn’t? To act like I hated my own dad, to be hated by everyone all for a part that ultimately never even gave me anything? Dream was so nice about it too… he listened. He actually listened. He didn’t mock me or ridicule me or insult me… he just listened. I know. I know. I shouldn’t have revealed what I was to an enemy, but I just… someone had to know. I needed to tell someone.” Tommy had remained disturbingly quiet as Fundy spoke, his lips pressed into a thin line. “And he understood, at least that’s what he told me. He said he knew how I felt. He knew my pain and it was so easy . It felt like it was meant to be and I… I fell, hard. He knew what it felt like. He knew my pain and it was felt so good and so real that I一”

Fundy hadn’t meant to cry, or let out a whimper. He quickly tried to wipe his tears away. Gods, he was supposed to be the fucking adult here. Fundy felt a hand pat him on the back, an awkward gesture that helped Fundy cement himself back to reality. He sniffed, casting Tommy a smile. “I proposed. We were supposed to be married in a few weeks… guess I have to cancel the wedding invitations and preparations. I feel… stupid. I clung to the one person I thought… fuck it.”

“You could have talked to us. You had Niki. You had Eret. Why Dream?”

“I had no one, Tommy. In Manburg, I was alone.” Fundy ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the tips as his tail curled around his waist. “And I… I thought he understood. I really thought…”

Fundy took a shaky sigh, recalling the signs that he should have seen. “You probably said it to cheer me up but Dream doesn’t love me. I don’t think he ever did looking back on it now.” He felt the urge to curl into himself, to pull his knees closer to his chest and just bury his face in his arms. He glanced over at Tommy, a frown playing on the teenager’s lips. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to act childish, not around Tommy. “I should have seen the fucking signs. The way he wanted to keep us a secret, the way he never even looks at me when we meet in public, the way he had chosen to spend all of his time protecting George. It was always fucking George. It was so fucking stupid of me to even think that he cared. Slip of the tongue, what a fucking joke. Those flowers were always meant for George. It’s never me, Tommy. No one ever chooses me.”

“George?! Dream… what the fuck. I’m going to kill that son of a bitch一 How fucking… No one messes with the fucking Soots!” Fundy forced a laugh, hoping that his tears weren’t showing as he turned towards Tommy - who had forgotten about his steak, much to Fundy’s relief cause Tommy needed better food than that. Tommy’s eyes were narrowed, his hands gripping the edge of his seat. Fundy smiled, even if he knew that Tommy’s bravado and threats were nothing but for show. Tommy only cared about him because Fundy was protecting him. Once Dream was no longer a threat, Fundy would go back to being forgotten. As it should be一 “Hey! Stop that! I can see the self-pity in your eyes, stop it! You shouldn’t be this fucking sad... I mean, don’t be sad!”

“I’m not sad.” He rolled his eyes, tail lifting and falling as Fundy looked down at his boots. “It’s fine, Tommy. I get it. I’m okay with it. We barely even care about each other as it is. I’m not一”

“Going to lie to yourself? Yeaahhhhhhhhh, I can read you like a damn book, big man. You aren’t getting anything past Tommyinnit.” Fundy shook his head, conflicted on how he should feel by it all. Tommy was acting like his old self and he felt guilty at doing a shitty job as a caretaker. Fundy was supposed to be helping Tommy, not the other way around. “HEY! STOP IGNORING WHAT I’M SAYING AND LISTEN! I’m not just gonna… fuck off once this whole thing is over. Hell no. We’re all gonna be living in L’Manburg, every single one of us. One big fucked up family. We might even get Technoblade back if we convince him to break up with anarchy.”

There’s a smile on his face, Fundy can tell despite the ache in his chest. For a moment, he feels like a little kid again, looking up at his - at the time - taller uncle. He had been embarrassed, being older than Tommy but still somehow less mature. And now… he was tired. “Promise?”

Tommy scoffed, reaching out to smack him on the back of the head. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Fundy laughed at that. It was the same response that Tommy had given him all those years ago. The war was just beginning at the time, and Fundy had been frightened that he had decided to dig himself a little fox mound to hide in. Wilbur had tried everything in his power to get him out, but Fundy had refused to leave… until Tommy showed up and jokingly mocked him for being a baby and to “get out and fight like the man Fundy was”. What got him to leave was Tommy promising him that they’d all be alive by the end, that “uncle Tommyinnit was going to beat everyone and win the war for us!” Tommy always did have a way of making everyone feel hope.

“Thanks. Sorry for一” Fundy stopped as Tommy casted him a glare. He had nothing to apologize for… wow, that’s a first. He shook his head, trying to clear any negative feelings he may still harbor. There were many problems to be spoken about, and they both couldn’t say everything in one night. “Well, you’ve heard my shitty life problems… You don’t have to talk about yours, Tommy. What you went through, it’s a lot. I understand if you can’t really talk about it yet一”

“WELL TOO BAD BECAUSE FUCK YOU, I’M TELLING THE STORY, BITCH!” Fundy groaned as Tommy practically threw himself on top of the table, the plates rattling and nearly falling off the edge if Fundy had reached out to grab them. The table shook as Tommy began to pace on top of it, his energy a little too much than what Fundy could handle for a 3 AM talk. He leaned back, ears pressed to the top of his head as Tommy finally settled on sitting on top of the table, facing Fundy with a grin on his face. Fundy frowned, noticing how Tommy’s smile didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. It felt like Tommy was putting on an act, and Fundy knew all about acts and pretending. “Now, I’m a big man, you know? I can handle myself! I’m Tommyinnit! But… this exile, wow, it uh… it sucked bigtime. I fucking hated every moment.”

A somber look appeared on Tommy’s face, guilt appearing in eyes that had seen too much of the world despite Tommy’s youth. Fundy bit his bottom lip, knowing that look far too well. “I fucked up. I get that. I fucked up and I said shitty things to Tubbo when all he was doing was looking out for everyone. Selfish… Maybe… Maybe I was selfish. We had peace and I screwed it up because… for some discs?” Fundy felt a pang in his chest as Tommy raked a hand through his hair, shaking and pulling as though trying to make sense of it all. “I missed him. I missed L’Manburg, sure but I missed Tubbo. The thought of seeing him again kept me going because my exile had to end sometime and then I could go back and see Tubbo again. The thought of going home again kept me sane… at least it was holding me back from… from…” Tommy began to tremble, fear flashing in the teen’s eyes as his breath began to quicken in pace.

"You don't have to say it, Tommy. If you're not ready to say it, then you don't have to." Fundy reached out to tap Tommy on the arm, breaking him out of his panic as he looked around the room, as if cementing himself back to reality. Fundy's tail hung low, sad to see that Tommy was still suffering even if he did try so hard not to show it. Fundy didn't like seeing Tommy so… scared. "You can… tell me another day, ya? It's difficult, I get that. Maybe you can tell me one day, but maybe not today. You don't have to force yourself, you have every right not to talk about it. Tommy—"

"I want to. I want to get it off my chest because who the fuck else is going to listen to me?" Tommy snapped, rubbing a hand at his mouth as his eyes shut tight. Fundy wasn't sure if it would help but he reached to hold Tommy's hand, squeezing it. Tommy didn't let go, his hold tightening around Fundy's as his eyes finally blinked open. "I… I wanted it to be over. I wanted it to be so fucking over that I… I thought of… leaving. Just leaving, one final goodbye to the world. All it would have taken was one step off the platform. The lava looked so inviting, so warm and Logstedshire felt so fucking lonely and cold I— I wanted to go. Dream fucking stopped me but I doubt he did that out of the goodness of his heart. He said he cared about me too, about how he was the only one who cared about me… Fundy, how is Tubbo? Does he? Does he miss me? Dream said Tubbo didn't care, he was lying, right? Tubbo missed me, right?!"

"Tommy. I don't what the fuck Dream told you but Tubbo missed you. He didn't want to exile you, you know that." Fundy felt that Tommy needed more than assurance, needed more than words to quench his fears. He stayed where he was, unsure if Tommy would even want a hug from Fundy of all people. For the time being, all he could say were what he hoped would help Tommy realize that Dream had lied. His blood boiled at the thought of Dream wondering what he had done wrong, how could that idiot be so fucking stupid? Tommy was hurting and Dream continued to rub salt into his wounds. He shivered, wondering what would have happened if he and Eret hadn't found Tommy. Gods… would Tommy have been— Fundy felt sick at the thought of having another ghost haunt L'Manburg. "When you left, Tubbo threw himself into his work. He barely went out of that stupid office and he just kept planning and planning. He never said it out loud but everyone knew he missed you. He's… he's not doing so great either, ya know? I think it would be good if you two meet up! Oh! I could bring him over to Drywaters sometime… We could go to L'Manburg but I don't trust Dre— Dream enough that he wouldn't send or stay near Drywaters for a while. But, whatever. Fuck Dream. We're… we're going to plan a good ol' reunion. That would be good, ya? We could do that, right?"

"Yeah… that would be fucking great… AND OF COURSE TUBBO MISSED ME. FUCKING DREAM AND HIS LIES." Tommy jumped off from the table, nearly sending the plates to the ground, again. Fundy laughed, weak and almost pitiful in his ears as he looked over at Tommy's smile. It felt so surreal about how Tommy could still remain smiling despite everything he had just been through. "One day, I'm gonna beat the shit out of that fucker—"

Tommy paused, gaze snapping towards the curtain-covered windows. There was a worry in his sky blue eyes, a terror that was gone just as quickly as it had come. "That bitch better not be out there or I'm gonna kill him myself. Yeahhhhhhhh, I could do that. Show him what happens when you mess with Tommyinnit and his fucking family. How dare he…" Tommy began to tap his foot against the floor, anger burning in his eyes as he continued to rant.

"Tommy… are you okay? Are you okay now?" Fundy hadn't missed the way Tommy had glossed over the whole… he had wanted to give up. He couldn't help but fear what pain Tommy had through. Fundy wanted to cry, wanted to cry for both of them when Tommy refused to do so for himself. He couldn't help but move closer, wanting nothing more than to just hug his uncle until both of them felt somewhat better."Did you… Did you really want to?"

"I did. I was just so tired, so alone and stuck that I didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do. I was exiled from my own country and I screamed and kicked the whole time. Tubbo… I hurt him. I hurt a lot of people. Fuck, I hope I didn't cause Ranboo problems since he tried to defend me. I—" Tommy took a deep breath, finally collapsing back into his seat, exhaustion in his gaze as he rubbed his hand on his mouth. Fundy moved a bit closer, hesitating before finally placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder. It wasn't a hug… neither of them were really good with giving those anyway. It was either Tubbo or Wilbur who started them and it was always Fundy or Tommy who would quickly pull away. "Thank you. I'm happy to know that he isn't mad at me, I wouldn't fucking blame him. I was a dick. I'd like… I'd like to see him again. Maybe plan ahead for whatever awful shit Dream wants to do."

“Ya… I’m sorry about what you had to go through.” Fundy patted him on the back, Tommy scoffing at the awkward display of assurance… but it was the best they both could do. Tommy patted his hand in return. “Dream’s gonna pay for that, he has to pay for that.”

“I just want to go home.” Tommy sighed, closing his eyes. “I just want—”

“You’ll see L’Manburg again, Tommy. Not today, not tomorrow but someday. I’ll make sure of that.” Fundy wished that they could leave right then and there, but he couldn’t risk it. Not with Dream still out there, waiting and plotting. “You’ll be home again. You’ll be happy again.”

Tommy hummed a low tune beneath his breath, a habit that reminded Fundy of Wilbur.

After a moment, Tommy finally looked up, a hint of tears in his eyes. “Promise?”

“Ya…” Fundy wasn’t the best protector, but by the gods was he going to try.

“I promise.”

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But ye, hope you guys like this! Bye bye!

#fundy #tommyinnit #mcyt #angst #as is what I do

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mercuriallycooperative · 5 years ago

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Doom flags at her heels, Katarina really has a lot going on

(slight arc one spoilers, slight arc later spoilers, lotta long rambling thoughts)

So I’ve been keeping up with the manga for quite awhile and then remembered the light novels exist and then discovered the anime is existing and then realized “oh this is popular enough people are writing fic for it!” and then read a good fic and then I realized that this was a chance to articulate a thought that’s always in the back of my mind whenever I reread the manga and now that I’m watching like four let’s-watch youtubers as the anime goes on but like-

It has always struck me that like- as much as Katarina has a lot of sparkling happy fluffy moments and people she cares for a lot in this life, people that certainly I think she does love perhaps more deeply than even she realizes, and the audience is reminded so often "ha ha she still thinks she's doomed, she doesn't realize literally everyone has fallen in love with her and she's become crucial in their lives and hearts"- there’s also the other side of that-

That is that all the preparing she's been doing since she woke up with her past life memories at 8 years old- she's spent all that time running from a looming shadow at her back.

She's spent 7 years with a lot of excellent friends, capturing hearts and being a bright light in the world, but she's also spent all that time living with the fear that some of her friends might kill her, someday, or that she'll be made to leave them, or be discarded, and have to start a new life in a strange place for a third time- this time, alone. And she's been running from that all this time. Even for a slightly one-track mind with a bit of a blind spot for things too close to her, how much fear and worry do you have to be carrying, to be still as Concerned as we see her when she's 15, to keep up preparing for such a doom for 7 years?

And there are moments like when she’s visiting Sophia and is reminded of Acchan, that we see she does still have some wistfulness for her life-that-was. Heck, even when she’s fighting her way out of her magical coma thing. Wistfulness for the world that was. And she doesn’t seem to have spoken to anyone about any of this past-life stuff. Even if this is her world now- she lost a lot, when she died the first time.

Even if she’s usually more focused on either things right in front of her, or her looming doom (hardly an enviable distraction), that has to be a lot to bear and never breathe a word of. A lot to miss, and people she will likely never see again.

And of course she's considered very simple and direct and incapable of guile or scheming by even her dear beloved friends- and often times she is- but there is also is the fact that in 7 years she hasn't let on about the secret of her memories, or what she's preparing for, or what she's afraid of. She hasn't ever let on those fears of getting killed or exiled by people close to her, or the fact that all this preparing is just in case she has to leave them all forever. Just in case they make her have to leave them all forever. She does a lot of off-the-wall things, but nobody has ever gotten a real hint of what they're for. The most anyone has really gotten is a refrain of “just in case!”

(I went back to check- she's mentioned "In case I'm exiled," in some material. She has not mentioned "In case you exile me." There's something of a difference.)

Also like. I know she’s really memetically, uh, got a bit of a blind spot about how people feel about her (I’m pretty sure she just doesn’t care about the whole rules of society thing except when they make immediate trouble for her, which she’s in a position to mostly ignore- that’s less her lack of sense, I think, and more her contemporary sensibilities and a certain amount of unselfconsciousness coming just as much from not caring for some of the more implicit rules as it does not noticing them) (not that she doesn’t also have the sense of a single turnip sometimes, but like. still.).

But like, in the first episode’s worth of events, she has like three different head injuries, two of which result in unconsciousness, one of which results in getting a load of past life memories dumped into her head. It’s not unlikely that this happens, not frequently, but more than just the times we’ve seen, over the years. That can’t be good for her- especially because if she’s visibly fine there wouldn’t necessarily be any reason to apply any handy-but-rare healing light magic that could mitigate any medical repercussions of head injuries. Certainly, I would not be surprised if this affects her attention span or ability to put together some things, just a little.

Take that, along with the fact that given what we see at least about her parents in this life, pretty sure some of the obliviousness is genetic- and also the whole ‘preparing for her doom for seven years’ thing... When we’re afraid of stuff, our limbic system, our fight-or-flight-etc, goes all “yeet” in our brains and it does actually affect our ability to think things through. Like. We had a seminar at work about it and stuff. And constant stress, even constant low-level-mostly-in-the-background stress, is known to cause issues with both memory formation and retrieval. Which can’t be helping anything else happening here.

What I’m saying is, Katarina has a lot of actual potential physical reasons to have some of the really increasing amounts of obliviousness that sorta seem to show later in the light novels.

(Also, in fairness, some people just aren’t great with the subtext of the goings on around them, even if they can read the pattern fine in words on a page. I’m like that myself. Uh, not nearly as much as Katarina, given, as far as I know. But that’s a way that one can be, too, and it’s not mutually exclusive with the rest of this or anything.)

Aside from those- from what we get about her reflection on her life in the last world, it doesn’t seem like all of this is totally new to her character; I definitely feel like she was Like This last lifetime too. (Actually, yeah, went back to check, and in the light novel, in Acchan's chapter, Katarina was indeed Like This last time too.) But I think it’s possible that aside from new circumstances in this life accentuating these characteristics, that they’re the sort of thing that produces more, uh, pronounced reactions to situations, the bigger the situation is. Last life, she was a normal schoolgirl who didn’t expect anything life-threatening. This life, she’s been living in the shadow of her doom for 7 years, and she’s in the upper strata of Very Important People, With Harem Hijinks.

I think some of Katarina’s determination just really has this flavor of- “Well it just can’t be helped! I just gotta do the thing!” A sort of.... taking all the weight of the things that really are chasing her, and also some of the subtext-laden everything in a lot of her close relationships, and a little willfully going “well this is kind of a lot. you know what was also kind of a lot? preparing for my doom for 7 years! you know how I dealt with that? just getting on with it as best i can, blithely moving past all the things i wasn’t really equipped for, with twice as much energy as life threw at me!” Not consciously, necessarily, but there’s certainly an energy of eliding past the whole mass of situations down to the brass tacks of an action plan. Gonna get murderlyzed? Learn to fight back against being murderlyzed, with a sword! Lonely brother set to fall in love because of healing loneliness? Guess he’s not gonna be lonely anymore! I stole some relationship flags from people? Well they’re great folks, I’m sure they’ll be fine!

There’s a certain resilience to this particular response to the whole state of affairs that keeps the story of Katarina’s life in this world from being dragged down into the implications of all the little bits and troubles that come with both her getting isekai’d into doom flags, and also all her friends’ troubles in their youths. It’s part of what makes her so interesting, I think, that she’s able to just go along being herself, doing her rather erratic best, genuine, honest, loud and enthusiastic and kind, and producing very direct responses to the happenings around her. And people respond to that genuineness and directness and kindness.

Whether we’re reading it on the page or the characters are seeing it in person, I think there’s something very charming about that. Taking ‘wow this is a lot. life is... a lot.’ and getting down to ‘but being nice is simple, and being enthused is simple, and scowling at mean people is simple, and now it’s not as a lot anymore!’

The origins of Katarina’s directness and charm aside, in this life she has very much been rewarded for Being Like This. Here, I’m speaking a little more in response to how I’ve seen people getting exasperated at the increasingly pronounced amount of Bakarina-ness that I’ve seen so far in at least the translation of the later light novels that I got a chance to read; she’s... still quite oblivious.

But her life and the narrative has always rewarded that. Her good-natured kindness to people with sorrows has made her happy friends; her determination to go the direct and simple path through things has always cut to the heart of matters (even if she’s sometimes missed how she’s now rather at the heart of a lot of people now); her blithe disregard for a number of proprieties has been protected by both her noble parents who love her, rather a lot of overprotective friends, and her royal betrothed. Worry has only ever gotten her to an action plan and a drive to proceed with it; after she’s got those to work with (e.g. her “train in swords and magic to not be murderlyzed, keep Keith from being lonely, make a field to train in magic, make a romance novel friend” plans), she’s always had to learn to take her actions and then live her life pushing that worry out of the way.

If she’d drowned in worry about her doom instead of letting it propel her to action and then disregarding it in favor of living in the moments produced by her choices, then I don’t think her life since waking up with her old memories would have been as happy as it was.

(Actually, I have this theory that the ‘original’/no-memory Katarina was running in a similar way as our Katarina, only she responded to the worry with sharp eyes and teeth, instead of brushing it aside with a determined smile. But that’s an analysis for another time, possibly after more of the Verge of Destruction spinoff is out and I’ve reread it a bit more.)

So, all that being the case- why should she be less blithe about things? Why would she be more cautious? Why would she start worrying any more about things beyond her newly-lifted worries about her doom? Her determination to charge facefirst through situations with a good nature, direct problem-solving, and some slightly-suspect assumptions that have always been close enough to the heart of things before- that’s always seen her through.

(Also, like. After everything, when she’s finally, finally able to stop worrying about her doom flags- enjoying all the people and things she loves without digging into the bits and troublesome bobs of it all, getting in a sense a second new lease on life- she can be forgiven for wanting things to be as simple as she’s always tried to make her one most looming problem in the past.)

(Also also, she did have to go through the stages between “you’re all adorable but you’re all 8 and I’m like 16 and I literally cannot be attracted to you, that’s weird” and “well I guess you’re all the same age as me-in-this-life but a large part of me is still 16, so it’s still weird” and “I haven’t changed much over the years because living through the same years twice isn’t really growing up so much as it is being 16 for an extra year or four and then being 12 again and then 13 again and then 14 again and then 15 again and only then finally getting a chance to grow older than 16- and in the meanwhile wait shit now you’re all the same age as me for real. now you’re not just breathtakingly cute or beautiful like a freaking artwork, now you’re making my heart skip a beat, uhhhhhh”.

It’s not particularly surprising that after years of thinking “yeah but I’m older than you, you’re like 8″ that it’s going to take being blindsided multiple times for Katarina to get into the swing of “wait, you’re my age or older and now, suddenly you’re able to be hot. wtf.”)

I don’t really have a conclusion to all this, exactly.

Just that- Katarina may have the sense of a single turnip sometimes, albeit a very good-natured turnip, but while some of it is absolutely just How She Is Even At Peace, some of it’s most likely a response to quite a few environmental factors over the years. And her life has rewarded her for the type of resiliency that she’s used to face her doom flags- the doom flags she’s been politely carrying and deflecting the stress of for seven years.

Direct and simple and kind and uncomplicated in nature she may be- and a bit slow on the subtext sometimes- but Katarina Claes should not be mistaken for lacking in willful resolve where it counts, nor mistaken for lacking fears, nor mistaken for lacking in ability to plan and analyze. I’m pretty sure she just... concludes that kindness is best, people are good, and that this life and the people in it are worth it.

She’s got more to her than just “oblivious harem protag is oblivious and really nice”. And honestly, I think if you look at her closely, she’s a lot more reasonable than people make her out to be.

#hamefura #otome game no hametsu flag shika nai akuyaku reijou ni tensei shiteshimatta #my contribution #in the tags #this is the quality content i'm on this site for #i'm allowed to tag my own post with that

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oceanmastertrash · 6 years ago

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the tide knows our names- part 6

gif from @voyevoda-thejoy

Summary: Takes place after the events of the movie. You are part of an old branch of Atlanteans known as Tidewatchers who can see/predict the future. As Arthur settles into being king, you get a powerful vision of an attempt on Orm’s life. Now you must work with your former king to try to keep your vision from coming true.

Part: 6/?

Word Count: 1,638

Warnings: none for this chapter

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / Read on Ao3

Orm seemed to grow uneasy at Arthur’s expression, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

Then Arthur burst into a shit-eating grin and when he looked at Orm all doubts were erased as he said, “You are definitely going to hate it, little bro. Congrats, you just won a trip to the surface.”

To say that Orm was not enthused about this plan was like saying that the ocean was wet.

“You honestly expect me to hide out on the surface for this?” Orm seethed.

“Yes I do,” Arthur said gravely, just about fed up by his younger brother’s obstinance. “What else would you have us do? Unless you hadn’t noticed, you’ve pissed off a lot of people down here. You killed the Fisherman king for christ’s sake. That’s not something they or anyone else are going to get over in a hurry. And if you want any chance of sticking around and making things up to people, you’re going to have to trust us. Please, give us a chance to figure things out.”

Orm was silenced with that. It was certainly not an easy thing for him to hear but Arthur was right to say it. If he was going to survive this to help fix things one day, he was just going to have to deal with this. Sacrifices must be made for the sake of his people after all. Because whether or not any of the other tribes even believed in him anymore, he still believed in them and wanted to do what was best. And if Arthur was to evolve into a king skilled enough to rule them he would need Orm’s help and he’d be no help if he was dead.

“Alright,” Orm finally agreed and you let out a breath. “We’ll try it your way, brother.”

There was almost a trace of affection there but if nothing else it showed you that he was trying make things right.

Vulko had a suspicious look in his eyes, almost as if he couldn’t fully believe Orm was acquiescing this easily. You knew the truth though, nothing about this was easy for Orm. Each effort at civility and deference in such a charged situation was a heavy and grueling burden.

“How would we do it though?” You couldn’t help but ask before clarifying. “I’m not saying it’s a bad plan. It’s actually pretty clever but how would it work logistically? Would you drop him off at your parents’ lighthouse or what?”

Both brothers had a very visible reaction but while Arthur’s was more disapproving, Orm’s managed to have equal strokes of pain and distaste. He clearly had no desire to play audience to his mother’s happily ever after with her surface dweller. Especially considering it was their romance that had ultimately taken her from Orm, leaving him to grow up under the sole care of his violent and tempestuous father. He may be willing to submit to a stay on the surface he hated but he was not desperate enough to agree to that.

“No,” Arthur said, “I don’t want to put this on them. Besides, if it's crossed our minds, anyone after Orm would think of that too.”

Over the past few hours it seemed to you that you four had spent a lot of time contemplating this problem in silence. It also seemed that you all hadn’t gotten very far in any angle of tackling it.

“Well what do you think?” You asked. “Are we supposed to just pop him on the surface by himself?”

None of them looked even remotely interested in that idea.

“Certainly not,” Vulko responded, “We can’t just send the prince to the surface by himself.”

“What then?” you asked, seeming to track where his thought had trailed, “You can’t exactly send a whole squadron with him. I thought we were looking for inconspicuous. If you do that, you might as well be broadcasting his location. Besides, someone would notice if a whole battalion went missing at the same time the prince disappeared.”

“You’re right,” Arthur agreed, an almost mischievous look in his eye, “but they probably wouldn’t notice if it was a single Tidewatcher.”

You were struck utterly speechless, your mouth hanging open. Then, trying to make sure you hadn’t just hallucinated, asked. “You want to send me?”

Orm was similarly surprised but he had yet to say anything, as if waiting to hear exactly what Arthur intended.

“Why not? You’ve already saved his life once,” Arthur pointed out.

“I did not-”

You spluttered at the same time that Orm said, “I would hardly say that.”

Arthur held his hands up to quiet further objections on that score, “Say what you want but I think it’s the natural choice. It was your death vision that got us started on all this and you would be the ideal option for protection up here. You’d be right there in case you saw anymore visions of attacks.”

Vulko spoke next, “It makes a certain kind of sense but would she be enough to fight off any real threat? It’s not like she’s a trained warrior.”

“Warrior? No.” Arthur agreed, “but she is trained. You saw her in the attack, from what the guards told me, she’s more than skilled enough to not only hold her own but watch Orm’s back.”

You ought to have been flattered at that but you were still stuck at flabbergasted over his bombastic plan.

Orm, strangely enough, did not dispute your skills. Instead he said, “You can hardly plan to send just the two of us up to the surface without any kind of reinforcement.”

“Her tide watching is reinforcement,” Arthur countered. “And from what Mera told me, the Tidewatchers are all connected by the tide or something so if anyone was able to track you down she could reach out to the council and we’d come find you.”

You blinked, that was a gross oversimplification but it wasn’t exactly wrong. And it’s not like you could take any kind of Atlantean tech to communicate, that would be way too easy to track. Seven Seas, were you actually considering this?

Orm was trying to hold back, “Yes but they would likely come too late. If something went wrong, it would be just us out there.”

“The idea is less about fortification and more about subterfuge and deflection,” Arthur said. “We’d be doing our part down here to throw anyone off the track while you two are supposed to disappear on the surface. Who knows? You may even learn a thing or two about it; Y/N seems to have.”

It was then that you realized your mention earlier at having spent time on the surface had not been forgotten by the king and he was in fact, using it as evidence that you were the right choice for this. You had to admit, even if this whole idea completely baffled you, it was smart thinking.

Orm made to object again but Arthur stopped him, “I know, it’s not what you want and it certainly isn’t the most ideal, but right now, it looks like it’s our best shot unless anyone else has any other ideas.”

Orm furrowed his brow, trying to think of one, but like you, failing.

“Besides,” Arthur began, “this way, with you exploring the surface more, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Orm outright scowled at that, “A charming surface expression, I take it.”

Arthur grinned, “Yep, and you’re going to get to learn a whole lot more.”

You didn’t think that was the best way to persuade Orm to agree to this but you weren’t exactly about to say that to your king. Besides, Arthur’s blustery confidence and decisiveness were certainly doing a lot of the work on that score.

Despite all your gifts with the Tides if someone had told you yesterday that the King was seriously planning on sending you up to the surface alone with Prince Orm to protect him you would have thought they were crazy. You supposed this was proof that the tides could still move in ways that were mysterious even to you.

Orm hung his head and you could see him resign to it but he kept his back straight and his gaze steely as he fixed Arthur with his stare. Oddly though, you could sense he was taking special care not to look at you as he finally said, “Very well, my King. But I trust you to do your sworn duty to look to your kingdom, no matter how odious a meeting or how dull you may find it. Atlantis looks to you.”

He then looked to Vulko, “And I trust you not to forget to investigate this matter to the very best of your ability, lest you seek to use this as an excuse to exile me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Vulko said icily though it certainly seemed to you that he had, in fact, dreamed such an idea.

“We’ll keep looking, Orm,” Arthur assured him with a determined set to his jaw, “On that you have my word. We’ll get to the bottom of this and get you back here before too long.”

Orm seemed to take, if not comfort, then assurance in what his brother said because he chose not to snipe back at Vulko. He seemed to have resigned himself to whatever this was that you two were about to embark on even as you still could hardly grasp this was happening.

You wanted him to look at you, to see what he really thought of you being the one to join him on the surface but he kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on his brother as he asked, “When will we leave?”

Arthur looked to Vulko then, decided, back to Orm and you, “Tomorrow.”

IMPORTANT UPDATE: After this chapter, I'm looking to rework this fic so that it features an OC instead of the Reader. Because this story it blossoming to be much longer than I'd anticipated, I feel like being an OC fic would be better for it in the long run. So when chapter 7 or 8 posts, look to see Elara instead of You. I'm hoping you all understand this change and I thank you all for bearing with me. I'm also looking to go back and rework these already posted chapters to fit with this new direction. The story itself is the same, just the main character will be shifted. Thank you!

#king orm #king orm x reader #king orm x you #orm marius #orm marius x reader #the tide knows our names #tidewatcher fic #oceanmastertrash #aquaman 2018

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kenshi-vakarian7 · 7 years ago

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“Perfect”

Another F!Reyder fic to add to my “Whiskey Gold & Ocean Blue” collection.

This is in fact a prompt, but I won’t be revealing what prompt that is until the end as it will spoil the intention I have for this short fic.

And hopefully, I didn’t deviate too much from Reyes’s character. Sorry if it seems like I did. =\

Regardless, enjoy!

Reyes Vidal couldn’t help the nervous twitching in his fingers as he looked over the controls on the console in front of him. Sitting in the pilot’s chair with one leg shaking from side to side, he saw that all was well for his shuttle, though he was starting to get low on fuel. Luckily, the Nexus was within view through the front window.

Reyes was pretty certain that he made it to the station in record time from Kadara. However, that didn’t matter to him. The lack of sleep he got throughout his travel didn’t matter either. What only mattered was that he needed to get to Kira Ryder as soon as possible.

It was supposed to be a routine visit. Since she resigned from being a Pathfinder, Kira still assisted Nexus leadership with negotiating between them and and angaran leaders as an Arbitrator. In other words, her job was to keep the peace between the Milky Way species and the angarans living on Kadara. Occasionally, she made trips to either Aya or the Nexus when certain negotiations were better resolved in person rather than through video conferences.

Her brother Luke, who was the second-in-command to the current human Pathfinder, Cora Harper, took the opportunity along with her former crew to meet Kira at the Nexus and spend some time with her. This was especially with knowing that this would be her last visit to the station for a while. With the team currently exploring beyond the Heleus cluster, who knew when the twins would see each other again.

Then two days ago, Reyes received a call from Luke. He had yet to shake the words her brother said from his mind, the twin’s voice laced with worry. “Kira’s in the hospital. You need to come here as soon as possible.”

More than once since receiving the call, Reyes kicked himself for not taking her offer to go with her. There was too much work here for him to look over on Kadara despite the last of the Outcast being long since gone. Besides, he hadn’t been a fan of revisiting the Nexus since the uprising. Kira understood – she always did – but that still didn’t make him feel any better.

The Nexus became larger and larger as time ticked away, but the station still felt so far away. Sure, it was better than the more than forty-eight hours of flying he endured to get here, but now the Nexus was like someone dangling a toy in front of a cat who can’t quite snatch it no matter how close they got.

Needing a distraction, Reyes let himself think about how he and Kira met at Kralla’s Song more than six years ago. He also thought about all the adventures the two of them had, the fun and mischievous smile on her face whenever she was about to jump into a fight, her laughter… the way she always looked at him as though he meant everything to her. He thought of all the times they’ve spent together, the many nights they made love… the few times he nearly lost her…

Reyes quickly shook the last thought from his head. No… that was the last thing he was going to think about.

Finally, after what felt like forever, a light ping was heard indicating to Reyes that he was within Nexus Control’s comm range. Without hesitation, he pressed the comm button on the panel. “Nexus Control, this is Shuttle N-503 Anubis requesting permission to dock… preferably as close as possible to Garson Memorial Hospital.”

It was a few seconds before someone responded. “N-503 Anubis, please stand by.”

Reyes let out a breath in annoyance. He was always a patient man, but considering the current circumstance, he just wanted to get this all over with. The sooner he was there by her side, the better. At least it was much easier for him to get onto the station these days, not like from the beginning after he became an exile. That was one less thing to worry about.

The flight controller finally got back to him. “N-503 Anubis, you are cleared for landing. Proceed to docking bay S-323.”

“Roger,” Reyes replied. “Proceeding to docking bay S-323.”

Just before he began landing procedures, Reyes quickly unlocked his omni-tool - which had been turned off to prevent being tracked despite jamming technology in his shuttle – to send a quick message to Kira’s brother, even while noting a few other messages waiting for him…

To: Luke Ryder

From: Reyes Vidal

Docking now. Will be there soon.

The hospital, newly built and named after the Andromeda Initiative’s founder, Jien Garson, was relatively quiet upon Reyes’s arrival. Then again, as Luke directed to him in his responding messaging, going through the back way was better than the main entrance. It didn’t surprise Reyes at all that a few members of the media were camping out front. Even after she resigned as Pathfinder, there was still an interest in Kira Ryder’s life. With few exceptions, she despised the attention her former job gave her.

Near the door entrance, one member of Kira’s former crew, Vetra Nyx, waiting for him in the quiet lobby. Most likely, Luke sent her to meet with him once the younger twin received his message. Reyes immediately went over to her and the turian didn’t hesitate to wave an arm as she began to walk forward as soon as she saw him, indicating to Reyes to follow her. He remained just a couple of feet behind Vetra, keeping up with her despite her taller height.

“Luke’s in there with her and with the exception of Drack, the others are in a private waiting area,” Vetra informed him before he said anything. “She’s in a room not too far from here. We’ve been keeping the media out since word spread about her hospitalization. Luckily, no one’s got in yet.”

“Good,” Reyes said in agreement. The last thing Kira needed right now was for the media to barge into the hospital when she was currently vulnerable (especially since it was the one feeling she hated experiencing the most).

As Reyes followed Vetra through the hospital hallways, he found that he couldn’t even begin to start asking her the other questions that were haunting his mind; was she okay? Were the doctors taking care of her? How long would she be here for? Those were just a few out of what felt like a million questions.

It was easy to find Kira’s room even before they reached it. That was because Drack was standing right next to the door, his back against the wall and his arms folded as though he was daring anyone to try to get past him. It reminded Reyes, not for the first time, how much he appreciated the Tempest crew’s loyalty to Kira even long after she walked away from being the Pathfinder.

The krogan spotted them both coming his way. As soon as he made eye contact with Reyes, Drack gave him a single nod, which he returned. Vetra stopped to stand with Drack as Reyes reached the door. He only stopped for a moment to get rid of his nerves as he realized that he was finally within a few feet from where Kira was. Only then did he realize that he hadn’t asked whether she was awake or not. If it was the former, hopefully she forgave him for taking so long to get here…

Reyes took a deep breath, putting on his mask to hide what he was feeling, before stepping into the room…

As Vetra mentioned, Luke was there in the room with his sister, occupying one of the two chairs next to the bed. He looked up to see who came in the room and got up to meet Reyes halfway. “Hey, you made it,” Luke said quietly once he was within arm’s reach.

Reyes sighed a bit. “I would’ve been here sooner, but…”

“I know,” Luke replied quietly as he patted his shoulder gently. “I’m going to step outside for a bit. If you need anything, let me know.”

Reyes simply nodded to him before Luke circled around him and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Reyes walked over to the bed and sat in the same chair Luke had occupied moments ago. Kira was laying on her side in her bed facing the chair. She looked very tired, probably even more so than he was, but that didn’t stop the small smile from forming on her face as soon as she saw him. “Hey there,” she greeted, her voice a little groggy.

“Hey yourself,” Reyes answered as he leaned forward in his chair and reached out to brush his fingers through her dark brown hair, tucking the strands behind her ear. He then leaned down and pressed his lips to her temple. “You okay?”

“I’m sore as hell and hurting all over, but I’ll be fine,” Kira assured him. “It all happened so fast that I didn’t really have time to process it.”

Reyes frowned. “I should’ve taken your offer to go with you. Then you wouldn’t have been alone-”

“Hey,” Kira started as she reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “Don’t blame yourself for not being here. And I wasn’t alone. Luke and the rest of the Tempest crew were with me the whole time.”

Kira removed her hand from Reyes’s face and began to adjust the small, bundled blanket she held in her other arm… revealing the tiny face of a newborn baby. In that moment, a flood of so many emotions crashed upon Reyes it was nearly overwhelming. He never thought it was possible to feel both exhilarated and frightened while his heart was already swelling with immense love for the little human in Kira’s arms. He didn’t know how to comprehend it, so he simply let it be as he attempted to take it all in.

This wasn’t something Reyes and Kira ever planned. Even now, the future always felt uncertain given both the wild environment they lived in as well as their occupations. Both had been scared out of their wits when they found out, her more than him, but they eventually decided to go with it despite the uncertainty. A part of Reyes wondered during these months if they would regret their decision. But now, seeing this little baby sleeping in Kira’s arms, all the doubts and uncertainty seemed to have melted away in an instant.

“It turns out she’s just as impatient as her uncle since she decided to show up a month earlier than expected,” Kira continued, her smile widening and her eyes glistening with tears upon noting Reyes’s reaction to seeing their daughter for the first time. “Already, she’s anxious for an adventure.”

As she spoke, Reyes slowly reached a hand out and, lightly and gently so that he didn’t wake her up, stroked the tip of his finger over the infant’s cheek. It was softer than he had imagined. “And… she’s all right? She’s healthy?” he murmured.

Kira slowly nodded. “Despite being born a little early, she’s fine. And she’s beautiful… though she looked like a red, slimy bullfrog when I first saw her. But to be fair, Luke and I looked the same way when we were born.”

Reyes chuckled at that, his eyes never leaving his daughter. “That’s one way for her to take after her mother.”

“Har har,” Kira grumbled.

Reyes leaned his head close to her, a sly smirk on his face as his eyes shifted to Kira. “I meant the part about being beautiful.”

“Liar,” she uttered, but was smiling nevertheless.

“You wound me,” Reyes gasped, feigning hurt.

Kira shook his head, still smiling. “Give birth to a seven pound baby and then we’ll talk about who’s more ‘wounded.'”

Reyes smiled at that. “Fair enough.” He then sighed as a bit of melancholy suddenly gripped at him. He frowned as he murmured once more, “I should’ve been here…”

“I told you not to blame yourself,” Kira assured him. “Like I said, she was too impatient to wait and it happened very quickly.” She smiled. “Besides, your hand was spared from the ordeal. I’m almost certain I was one more squeeze away from breaking all of Luke’s fingers.”

Reyes knew Kira was joking as a way to make him feel better, but it wasn’t really helping that much. Kira figured that out from his lack of reaction. Her free hand reached out to caress along his jawline. “Hey,” she started. “I’m sorry you weren’t here when she was born. If it’ll make you feel better, I’m planning to give one certain half of Nexus leadership hell for making me travel for a useless meeting at a time like this despite my protests.”

Reyes couldn’t help but smirk. “Let me know if you need me to send in the 'Calvary’ to set an example. I promise they won’t get hurt… unless you count their pride.”

Kira chuckled, knowing the 'Calvary’ meant the few members of the Collective who were planted on this station as an extra set of eyes and ears for him. “That might not be necessary, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

Reyes continued to caress the little infant’s cheek before Kira asked, “Do you want to hold her?”

Reyes suddenly froze in his ministrations, feeling some reluctance over that offer, but he knew that it was out of nerves more than anything. For one thing, she looked so peaceful as she slept and the last thing he wanted to do was to disturb that. And what if he dropped her? Carefully planning raids and discreetly smuggling goods across the galaxy was one thing. Holding a baby? That was out of his element.

But this wasn’t just any baby… it was their child. His child. He was still trying to comprehend that this was not just a dream. She was real and he was her father. The reality of the latter had yet to settle in just yet.

Lost for words, Reyes simple nodded to Kira’s offer before she carefully handed the sleeping infant to him. “Just remember to support the back of her head,” she reminded him. “Her neck isn’t strong enough for her to hold up on her own yet.”

Once more, Reyes nodded as he managed to get a good hold of her before he felt confident enough to lean back into his chair. The baby fussed a bit during the transfer, but soon relaxed once all the movement around her stopped. Reyes then pulled the blanket back a bit, revealing the short strands of black hair on top of her head. Brushing a finger gently over her hair, he noticed how her skin was lighter than his, but also darker than her mother’s. Although her eyes were closed, Reyes was pretty sure that they were blue like all infants were born with. Whether they would stay that way, like Kira’s, or turn amber like his later on remained to be seen. She was also small and light like a bag of feathers, which he didn’t expect.

Holding the little girl in his arms, Reyes wanted nothing more than to protect her from all the things that could harm her in this new galaxy. Not for the first time in the last few months, he thought about walking away from being the Charlatan and letting Keema take over in full… but after everything he put into the Collective, it wasn’t that easy to do. Kira understood this, more than he had expected when they discussed the possibility. Someday he may, but even now wasn’t the right time.

The only thing Reyes could hope for at this point was that this decision didn’t bite him in the rear later down the road…

“So,” Kira started again after some silence as she observed them, cutting through his thoughts. “How do you still feel about naming her Charlotte Ellen Ryder?”

Giving the little girl her mother’s surname was something they decided on months ago. Giving her the Ryder name would keep her safe, and he would do anything to make sure it remained that way. For her sake.

Reyes leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “It’s perfect,” he murmured. “She’s perfect…”

I had this idea in my head for a while… which is funny because I normally don’t write much family stuff, but I decided to go for it after seeing Fanfic Prompt #12: Family Guy by @makocartwheel .

I hope you enjoyed reading this.

#reyesvidalweeklyprompt #mass effect andromeda #reyes vidal #kira ryder #freyder #reyes x ryder #my fanfiction #fanfic #fic prompt fill

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lokifiction · 8 years ago

Text

Unsinkable

Category: Minific

Rating: M

Notes: You asked, and I’m delivering! Welcome to the first installment of my new historic minific, Unsinkable. I’m guessing you’ve already guessed what it’s about based on the title, and I hope you’re excited about it.

To clear up confusion should it come up, this fanfic will have multiple chapters, and will not be a oneshot or a blurb. I’m calling it a minific because most of my fanfics could very well end up being one hundred chapters and I’m limiting this one to about six or seven.

I wanted to let you all know that I didn’t intend for this to be a remake of the film Titianic with my own characters, merely a story that takes place in the same setting, but as I’ve been going on in the process I have noticed a few accidental similarities between the two. Those are not intentional, so I hope you’re not put off by them.

Also, I wanted to inform you that this fic takes place pre-Thor 1 era to give you a visual as to what Loki would look like and explain why he still claims Odinson as his surname, as well as a few other things that will occur later on in the story.

I feel the need to explain before we begin that I know that Camryn isn’t an unusual name, but since this story takes place in 1912 and my research shows that no version of the name appeared until decades later, I wanted to find a way to make it as realistic as possible, which will clear up a comment that comes along in this part.

This fic is different from a lot of things on my page, and I hope the change brings a fresh perspective to everything else. I hope you enjoy it, and I pray it lives up to your expectations.

Warnings: Firstly, I wanted to let you know that smoking will be mentioned a few times in this fanfic. I don’t condone the act these days, but as it was a social norm at the time, I figured it would be unrealistic if it weren’t mentioned.

There’s some suggestive content in this chapter, but other than the aforementioned things, I think it’s pretty clean.

Part One

April 7th, 1912

After an unfortunate accident involving a prank gone wrong, Loki was banished from Asgard and marooned on Midgard. It was, however, no large ordeal, for this happened quite frequently, with the Allfather being completely oblivious on how to punish, or even teach, his sons. Loki still retained every one of his powers and immortal benefits and would be returning home in a turn of the moon, so it was hardly a punishment at all, but rather an opportunity for the curious prince to learn new things. Even though they were looked down upon, Loki hungered for knowledge of any species, and the mortals were no exception. Upon these pretenses, Loki expected to spend his time in petty exile immersing himself in the culture of Midgard, discovering queer, amusing habits of humans, not a woman that would completely enthrall him in a single glance and render him utterly at her mercy for the time he knew her.

He had settled by the window of his room in the housing he chose to bide his time in, that being the finest hotel in all of London, for a relaxing cigarette, a strange habit that he found quite enjoyable, and perhaps the daily newspaper. However, his light was forgotten, nearly burning through his trousers, when she stepped out of the sleek black car with all the grace of an immortal. The garnet red of her travel suit was sharp on the eyes against the drear that Loki was beginning to realize was quite characteristic of that area of Earth, and she appeared a drop of blood on fresh snow.

She directed her driver on the transport of her bags with a delicate yet lengthy hand gloved in clearly expensive lace, lightly holding a folded parasol in the other. A matching set of pearls lightly shimmered on her graceful, swan-like neck and slender wrists, and a wide-brimmed hat frustratingly shielded her face, but Loki was almost sure he was completely infatuated with this woman even after only seeing her razor-slim figure and uncannily regal mannerisms.

Eventually, as if she sensed him looking, she tilted her chin back and peered towards the upper windows, seeming to stare right at him. Her skin was so pale she appeared to glow, and the way her features were sharp yet unbelievably soft at the same time made her resemble portraits of historic queens of Alfheim. Even though it was clear by the way her impossibly dark eyes moved from side to side that she had not spotted Loki, the way her full, red lips- quite a rebellious shade, as Loki had learned cosmetics were reserved for unvirtuous members of society- curled into a smile made him tempted to believe otherwise.

When she averted her eyes, with movements as subtle and soundless as he could manage, Loki opened his window the tiniest smidge. Over the bustle of the city he heard her voice, rich and clear, with a queer accent that was both naïve and authoritative all at the same time.

“That’ll be all, Travis,” she instructed, handing the footman a few bills, quite a hearty tip. “I’ll be alright from here.”

“Are you sure, Miss Potts?” Even Travis seemed bewitched by her beauty. “I want you to be safe, and you’re making this journey all on your own.”

“I’ve handled myself quite well so far, dear man. I will continue to do so.” She leaned down and kissed the driver on top of his capped head. “And if Daddy asks, tell him that I said your service was superb, and I’ve never felt safer.”

“I will, Miss Potts, and I hope to see you again soon. I will sorely miss you when you’re gone.” Travis tipped his cap, a blush creeping all the way up to the top of his bald head.

“What is your objection to come visit me?” She blew him another kiss, then disappeared into the hotel.

Suddenly intrigued, Loki pulled the unused cigarette from between his lips and discarded it. He had originally planned on indulging the room service for his supper, but this new arrival compelled him to attend the hotel’s formal dinner. Raising himself from his perch, he stepped over to his suitcase and rooted around for a fresh suit, more excited by the prospect than he was wont to admit.

Meanwhile, Camryn Potts was being shown to her lodgings by yet another enchanted serviceman. When all her bags had been put away and she handed out yet another generous tip, the young man’s cheeks went impossibly ruddy and he backed out of the room with a stream of unintelligible phrases. The girl smiled after him, chuckling to herself whilst setting aside her parasol and hat, collapsing down on the freshly made bed in exhaustion. She eagerly loosened the buttons of her travel coat and pulled it off her spidery arms with as much haste as she could manage, for the luxurious garment seemed to be weighted down with each of the miles she had passed that day.

After lounging in silence for a few moments, she glanced to the clock on the dresser and discovered that there was another hour and a half until dinner was to be served. She decided that it was time enough for a bath and change of clothes. As she stood to ready the tub, she caught a glance of herself in the mirror, smirking at the memory of the gapes and stares she received due to the matte red hue on her lips, subtle but effective. Always having been an odd girl who did nothing to help her standing out with her innovative and, at times, rebellious personal style, never wanting to conform with what anyone told her to do, she had been relentlessly self-conscious of the stares she received as a child, but had embraced them and given people even more cause to do so in womanhood.

After removing her jewelry and stripping herself bare, Camryn stepped into the bathroom and slid into the steaming water with a contented sigh. She loved dismal weather, but one thing she loved even more was the feeling of peeling off wet clothing and sinking into a hot bath. She sat still as stone for a time, letting her bones warm, then reached over to retrieve her worn book so that she might enjoy a quick chapter or two. She took her baths this way quite often; with no apparent purpose but to relax.

When she finally managed to pull herself from the small paradise, Camryn noticed that the rain had stopped and that shy fingers of sunlight were reaching towards her from between the sheer white curtains framing the window. She was momentarily disappointed, for the constant rain was one of the reasons why she loved London, but cheered when she remembered that the change of weather warranted dinner be served on the terrace in the courtyard. With a renewed spring in her step, she pulled on an appropriate dress and descended from her quarters.

Loki followed soon thereafter, waiting as long as he could force himself. After changing, he paced about his room fretfully, thinking over his decision and wondering if he should really present himself to this ethereal woman. He concluded that if he did not introduce himself as he planned, he would do it spontaneously and likely make a fool of himself, so he might as well remain committed to his mental blueprint. He readied himself to step down to the dining room but realized he still had three-quarters of an hour until the meal was to be served, so he was left to worry in his room. He tried to return to his newspaper, but words turned to blurs in his eyes. He considered attempting to have his cigarette once more, but wondered if this Miss Potts would truly enjoy meeting a man that smelt of a chimney. In fact, he wound himself so tightly in his own anxiety that he realized he was fifteen minutes late when he cast a glance at the clock. Hurrying to remedy his mistake, he almost sprinted down the steps into the courtyard, but steadied and reminded himself that his famous title was Silvertongue, and he must keep up appearances.

Instinctively reaching up to make sure his hair remained in place and that his waistcoat was straight, the disguised god sauntered into the terrace, forcing himself to walk with his usual graceful swagger. It did not take him long to spot the woman, for she was seated at a table directly in the center of the courtyard, querying about the menu with the waiter peering over her sharply-sloping shoulder. She had changed into a simple yet no less luxurious garment of a deep, bright blue which complemented those very tones in her skin, and the last vibrant rays of the waning sunlight were shining directly on her as if putting a spotlight over her form. She was hatless, allowing Loki to see her hair, knotted loosely at the nape of her neck, which appeared a rich coppery auburn in the sunlight, but was, in fact, a deep coffee-brown under normal circumstances.

“Shall I show you to your table, sir?” The maître d’ spoke in his ear, startling Loki from his reverie.

“Actually,” he began, “would it be possible for me to join that woman tonight?” He pointed out the girl, who was sending the waiter off with a laughing, openmouthed smile.

“Miss Potts?” The maître raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

As the waiters pulled up an extra chair and Loki took his seat, he earned envious glares from all men around him, even those present with women who appeared to be their wives. Miss Potts had a different reaction, glancing up as if returning from a dream world and questioning him silently for a moment before picking up her wine glass and eyeing him coyly under arching brows, inviting him to speak first. Her eyes appeared the same coppery color as her hair in the lighting, as well.

“Might I join you?” Loki eventually questioned, accepting his own menu without even casting a glance towards the server.

“Well,” Miss Potts cleared her throat, “seeing as you already have, it appears I have not much choice in the matter.” A few strands of hair had popped free from her chignon and framed her face in a halo of wispy ringlets, giving her an impish, almost cherubic, look.

“Of course you do.” Loki grinned widely in his perfected way that oft made him the more popular prince among women, as opposed to his burly brother. “If you wish for me to leave, simply say the word and I shall return to my own table.”

Camryn hummed to herself, continuing to study him over her wine glass, which she had not moved since she picked it up. This mystery man was quite possibly the most attractive she had ever laid eyes on, his emerald eyes seeming to bore straight through her. She suddenly wondered how his sharp cheekbones would feel under her fingers, what his slicked onyx hair would look like loose about his aristocratic face, and how those perfectly pink lips would feel against her own.

“No,” she declared, taking a sip at last. “You seem interesting. I will let you stay.”

“Then I suppose introductions are in order.” Loki extended his hand and Camryn clasped it over the table, his fingers strangely cold in her palm, hers unnaturally warm in his. “Loki Odinson.”

“Camryn Potts,” she replied in turn, giving their linked hands a firm shake before letting go.

“An interesting name,” Loki commented. He had grasped the concept of Midgardian names, but her first still seemed very modern and unusual to his ears. “I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

“I could say the same thing about yours!” She gasped as if offended. “However, mine has a story attached to it. I was conceived in Scotland during an extensive business trip in which my mother accompanied my father. Over that trip, my mother found out that she had Scottish lineage and relatives in the area, with the surname Cameron. To honor that, they named me after the family, but altered the spelling so that it was a bit more feminine. But, while my name is innovative and modern as my family is, thus the reason for it, yours seems quite ancient, as if it’s withstood the impossible test of time and will continue to do so.”

“That is close to accurate, Miss Potts,” Loki teased, earning a short, jovial laugh from her. “I’ve never heard anything like your accent before, either. You’re not from London, are you?”

The girl scoffed, but a smile remained tattooed on her lips. “Are we simply going to sit here and point out everything about me that’s queer?” She chuckled. “But I’m from New York. Born and bred.”

“What brings you abroad, then?” Loki was grateful when the servers brought him his own wine, for he finally had a prop to occupy his hands so he no longer felt strangely exposed.

“Well,” Camryn took on a theatrically snooty tone, “my father is a vastly wealthy and wildly successful businessman, and I was named heir to his empire of a company, which was quite a scandal, considering my gender. He brought me to England to teach me how things are run, but I ran away to travel the world and now I’m being sent home in disgrace.”

Loki cocked an eyebrow, but she burst into laughter once more.

“I’m kidding!” She assured. “My father does own a very successful corporation, which I was scandalously named heir to, and he came to Europe in the hopes of creating some alliances and merges with parallel companies overseas. I came with him to assist and learn the trade, but my grandmother has fallen ill, so my mother implored me to return to the city and be with my family until she recovers or passes. I did see quite a bit of the continent though, and I’m not being sent home in disgrace for doing so. My father encouraged me to travel and witness as much as I could, and touring Europe has been my heart’s desire ever since I discovered what Europe was. I’m actually quite distraught at having to leave, but I do love my grandmother very much and want to be with her. Daddy assured me that I could return to finish the trip once the ordeal is over, though, so that quells a bit of my sadness.”

“Isn’t it dangerous for a lady as young as yourself to be travelling across the world and open sea all alone? Shouldn’t your father have accompanied you home, or sent someone to do it for you?”

“Travis, our footman, accompanied me all the way from Amsterdam to London, and why should it matter that I’m a young female if I’m capable of taking care of myself?” The girl waved her hand. “It’s always dangerous to travel, whether by train or open sea, alone or in a group of twenty. For example, you’re traveling by yourself, and you don’t seem to be worried at all.”

“And what brought you to the assumption that I’m traveling?”

She pointed out the structure around them. “You’re housed in a hotel. It’s quite an expensive one and you appear to be very wealthy, so I doubt that’s for lack of a home. Where are you from, originally?”

Loki had not expected such a question, and the arrival of their first course left him time to ponder. As Camryn collected her spoon in dexterous fingers, he decided upon his answer.

“Norway,” he replied. “Did you happen to see it during your travels?”

“Briefly, but unfortunately we were pressed for time when we passed through.” Her voice suddenly faded out of its flowing and trained regal state and slipped into a tone that was much more rushed and thoughtful, a bit higher-pitched than her previous velvety octave, but no less endearing. “What fascinates me the most is the religion. The old pagan one that a few in that area still practice. Your name no longer surprises me, given where you were born. I knew it sounded familiar. I actually have my heart set on returning there for an extended period and learning more about their deities and rituals. Do you worship them yourself?”

Loki considered for a moment. “In a manner of speaking, yes. What of you? Are you not a good Christian like most in the Western culture seem to be?”

It was Camryn’s turn to choose her words carefully. “I’m quite open-minded in the matter,” she decided. “Just don’t tell my mother that, else I’ll be sent off to a convent!”

“That would be such a shame,” Loki tutted. “To trap all that beauty under a dusty habit.”

“Oh, stop it. But what of you?” She inquired, composing herself. “What brings you to London?”

Loki’s premeditated lie was simple. “Wanderlust.”

“We have much in common on that front.” Camryn raised her glass as if in a toast. “Will you be wandering away from London in the near future?”

“I haven’t quite decided yet.” That statement now resided on the wings of truth, for Loki’s mind was now muddled with considerations of jumping on the next boat to New York City to follow this girl wherever she went.

Camryn hummed to herself, furrowing her shapely brows. “I wouldn’t place you as the unstructured type,” she commented. “You seem one to have an entire itinerary already mapped out, scheduling every second of your time.”

“Well, you have only known me for a few moments,” Loki jested.

She dipped her chin, stealing a sip of wine. “Point well stated.”

The courses then began to come and go, and over that time the two discussed London: their favorite parts, the ones they’d rather avoid, interactions with the locals, and tidbits of stories of particularly colorful experiences. Eventually, once the dessert plates were long gone, Loki pulled out his cigarette case and light.

“Mind if I have a smoke?” He inquired, preparing his next hook carefully.

“Only if I can have one, as well.” Before waiting for a reply, Camryn reached over the table and took a cigarette for herself, positioning it between her ruby lips delicately.

“I’m surprised you want one,” Loki admitted. “A proper young lady such as yourself doesn’t seem one to smoke.”

“I’m not as proper as you’d think,” she declared, leaning over and accepting his offered light. “But proper or no, I’m by no means addicted, or a ‘smoker.’ They merely calm me when I need them, and I find them highly glamorous in the right situation. Besides, my mother hates it when people smoke, so that makes me want to do it more.”

“Do you not have a good relationship with your mother?” Loki lit his own cigarette, taking an elegant drag and blowing away the smoke that filled his mouth languidly.

“It’s not that,” Camryn shrugged. “I just have very rebellious instincts. No matter how much I like or respect a person, if they tell me to do something, every fiber of my being implores me to do otherwise.”

“I should like to see that in the future.” Loki grinned, pulling one eyebrow upwards in the hopes of seduction, but Camryn merely shook her head, pursing her lips.

“Believe me, you don’t.”

After that reply, Loki had to improvise.

“Anyhow,” he began, returning to his original conversational plan, “it would have been rude of you to refuse my inquiry as to whether I could smoke, so I’m glad you accepted.”

“Why would it have been rude?” she exclaimed teasingly. “What if I had some sort of health condition?”

“Because you deprived me of my afternoon cigarette,” Loki explained vaguely, smirking.

Camryn scoffed. “And how does that work? Illuminate me.”

“Earlier in the day I was about to enjoy my afternoon smoke and the newspaper before the window of my room, but I caught a glance of you arriving at the hotel and was so distracted by you that I forgot about the both of them. I nearly burned a hole in my trousers.”

Camryn chuckled bemusedly. “Well, I can reimburse you for the trousers if they are, in fact, ruined, but I’m afraid I can do nothing for your absentmindedness.”

“Ah, now.” Loki shook his head. “I think there is something you can do.”

“Oh?” Camryn crossed her arms over her boyish chest, leaning back in her seat. “And what might that be?”

Loki snuffed out his cigarette, abandoning it in the ashtray as he placed his forearms on the table and leaned over them. “You can accompany me on a night on the town.”

“Alright.” Camryn mimicked his actions exactly, and when she uttered her next words they were practically nose-to-nose. “I suppose it’s only fair that I do so. When shall we leave?”

Loki exhaled sharply, rising from his seat in a gliding movement and holding out his hand, palm raised. “What’s keeping us from leaving right now?”

Camryn shifted backwards slightly, taking on a defensive stance resembling a deer poising to run from a hunter. The way her eyes so resembled a doe’s only increased the effect as they shifted from Loki’s outstretched hand to his face, filled with apprehensive surprise. She was suddenly timid, and for the first time since Loki laid eyes on her she seemed every bit a girl and not yet a grown woman, but that somehow made her that much more interesting. Finally, with her teeth catching her lower lip, she extended her own palm and slid her fingers into his. Loki helped her to her feet, purposely tugging a bit harder than necessary so that she was pulled flush against him. Their bodies were so closely pressed together that they could feel the rise and fall of the other’s chest, and as Loki’s burning eyes met hers once more, it made Camryn feel such foreign things in mind and body that she had to duck her chin. Clearing her throat, she detangled her arms from Loki’s and tucked them into the proper position for a man escorting a woman, and forced herself to assume her previous demeanor.

“Where shall you take me?” she inquired as they passed outside of the hotel’s grounds and onto the streets beginning to crowd with patrons of the nightlife. She tugged on his arm with the statement, as if she were a child pulling on her mother’s skirts. “It seems as if we’ve both already seen as much of London as there is to see, so I don’t suppose you had tourism in mind.”

“I didn’t.” Loki agreed. “However, there’s this club I’ve passed by and observed through the open door several times, but have yet to go in. How do you feel about dancing?”

The corners of Camryn’s lips pulled into a coy smile. “It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

The club he was referencing was only a few paces away, nestled between a bookstore and a pub. Its entrance was so narrow one would never even notice it was there if they weren’t looking, with no sign or indicator of its presence but the ever-opened door, warm yellow light streaming out along with constant laughter and upbeat music.

Loki removed Camryn’s hand from his bicep and clasped it in his instead, for there was no possibility that they would fit through the door abreast, even though both were equally as slim as rails. He glanced over his shoulder to see her awarding him with an apprehensive smile, exhaling in preparation between revealed teeth. Loki squeezed her palm in encouragement to relax and stepped over the threshold, becoming immediately engulfed in a scent cloud of smoke, multiple ladies’ perfumes that did not necessarily mix well, and fine wines dripping from every patron’s glass. It was overwhelming to the point where one’s eyes had to adjust, but it was not necessarily an unpleasant smell. It was the scent of a high-class life, the one the pair of them had been raised to, but it was presented in an entirely different situation than either of them had experienced: amid twirling bodies, unbarred laughter, and free conversation in loud, excited voices. The two unconsciously huddled together, unsure of where to go first.

They did not have to wonder much longer, for a waiter dressed in a disheveled suit approached and greeted the two in a thick East London accent.

“Good evening to you,” he shouted over the din. “Will you have anything to drink?”

“We’ll each have a sampling of your finest wine.” Loki did not raise the tone of his voice at all, yet he was still understood perfectly through the club’s noise. That intrigued and unsettled Camryn greatly as she wondered just who exactly this mystery man was, but she quickly dismissed the thought, figuring that her enchanted infatuation with him had her honed in on his being, creating such an illusion.

“All right, then. Those will be to you as quick as we can manage.” The waiter jotted a note down on a small pad. “Could I have a name for the tab?”

“Odinson,” Loki replied promptly, and the server nodded.

“Good, now, two glasses of wine to Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” he confirmed, but Camryn jumped in before the last syllable had faded out.

“Oh, we’re not-”

The waiter glanced up as if seeing the pair for the first time. “Say, you two make a handsome couple.”

“Don’t we?” Mischief gleamed in Loki’s eyes as he snaked his hand about Camryn’s hip, thumb trailing a bit too scandalously across the bone at her front. “We met incidentally, two travelers staying at the hotel down the road. I joined her for dinner, uninvited, then took her dancing at this very place, which is where we fell madly in love with each other. Now, a year later, we’re here on our honeymoon.”

“You don’t say!” the waiter gasped. “You know, forget the tab. Free drinks for this couple all night! Consider it a wedding present.”

“Thank you very much.” Loki waved as the serving boy departed, but Camryn immediately smacked him on the arm in a very inappropriate gesture. To the outside eye, they appeared every bit the married couple, and it was no wonder that the waiter assumed as much.

“Why would you tell such a lie?” she gasped. “My good sir, that was certainly not truthful at all. Don’t tell me you did that just to receive free wine.”

“My dear,” Loki leaned down and whispered against the shell of the girl’s ear, “you will come to find that I am not at all a truthful man. I can afford all the wine I’d like. I told him such a thing because I gain a certain thrill from telling lies and having people believe them. To me, it makes it seem as if my falsities are true.”

Camryn pulled away, but not in jerking motion, as if she were frightened, instead leaning back just far enough so that she could see his face, trying to hide the anticipative shivers that passed down her spine at the feeling of his breath on her neck. “That’s cause for me to be very frightened of you. You’ve admitted that you’re a liar; now how do I know you’re just a lonely traveler? I’ve told you all about me and you’ve told me almost nothing about you, so you could very well be a murderer. How can I be certain that you won’t get me very indisposed on this dancing club’s free wine and then take me up to your room to murder me?”

“Trust me, Miss Potts.” Loki leaned down once more to purr against the girl’s temple. He did not have to stoop quite as far as he had with others in his previous years, for she was a woman of considerable height, but his even more considerable height still managed to dwarf her. “If I brought you to my room, I would be doing entirely different things to you.”

This time Camryn truly did jerk away, but a glimmer in her eyes betrayed that she was interested in the offer. “You may not be a truthful man, Mr. Odinson, but you certainly are a bold one.” She reached out to catch his hand in hers, quickly changing tune. “If you come dance with me promptly, perhaps I might excuse you for being too forward.”

As she pulled him onto the dance floor, a server quickly passed by and caused their hands to break apart. Nevertheless, she continued on without Loki, emerging onto the floor alone, turning to face him as she began to move. The tune was jaunty and mainly couples occupied the space, bouncing around in coordination, but she, turning about by herself, did not look strange at all. She did not appear uncomfortable or inhibited, rather, she looked to be the most beautiful and ethereal being in all the realms.

As she moved, dancing with an intoxicating mix of a style dangling between playful and seductive whilst remaining proper, Loki’s eyes, for the first time since they met, traveled from her face to her body. Her figure had not one curve, yet that set her apart from other mortal women in the way that she did not need large and prettily shaped mounds of flesh to be alluring and attractive, rather, her soul seemed to shine straight through her skin, her body seeming too compact to contain it, and in turn she shared a radiant piece of it with everyone she encountered. This fact made Loki wonder if this woman was truly an immortal, come to Midgard to break the hearts of both men and women alike.

Loki was broken from his trance when her resonating voice, more mature sounding than a woman’s of her age ought to be, rang out over the noise.

“Mr. Odinson!” she called, grinning cheekily. She was now holding a glass of wine in one hand and the fingers of the beet-red server in the other. “If you don’t get out here within the next few seconds, I’m abandoning you and dancing with Charlie.”

“Why don’t you?” Loki played along. “He looks rather excited at the prospect.”

Charlie shook his head furiously. “Oh no, I could never come between a pair such as you two. Please, Mr. Odinson, come dance with your lovely wife. Besides, I’ve still got to give you your wine.”

Relenting, Loki pushed through the crowd until he was inches before Camryn once again, accepting his glass from the server and drawing in a languid sip.

“Will you quit procrastinating?” Camryn drained her glass in one go, then set it aside and seized Loki’s wrist with both of her hands. “I want to dance!”

“Miss Potts!” Loki gasped in feigned shock. “That was quite expensive wine and you can’t possibly have enjoyed it as it is meant to, and you will surely be drunk within the half hour if you continue on that way.”

“I’m not going to have any more, and I’ve had my share of expensive wines, so I know how they’re supposed to taste. This was your idea, so I expect you to follow through on your word.”

“What word?” Throwing her a playful smile that made her heart beat a million miles a minute, Loki followed suit in draining his glass and turned towards her, hands folding over her waist. They began to dance energetically in accordance to the tune, and Camryn’s grace rivaled even that of Loki’s. By the way she placed her feet it was obvious that she’d had training in the art, but her steps still retained an air of freedom and spontaneity that made it appear as if she was born to do so forever. And spinning right along with her, getting lost in the deep pools of her laughing eyes, Loki was beginning to believe that he was born to be in her arms. How did it come to be that a mortal woman gained such a tight grip on him after only a few hours?

The two danced until the club reached its closing and Camryn nearly collapsed in fatigue. As the pair stepped outside to return to the hotel, the wind was gusting and rain poured down, causing the girl to cast a nervous gaze out the door and tut at herself, for she had not brought a coat. Loki soon stepped in, draping his own suit jacket over her slender shoulders, then ducked his head with an arm secured firmly around her as the two sprinted as fast as they could to escape the weather. When they entered the hotel, the two discovered that their rooms were on the same floor, directly perpendicular to each other. Upon realizing this, Loki invited Camryn in for a cup of tea and to warm herself by his fire, but to his great shock, she refused with a coy shake of her head and a wry smile.

“I know what ‘come in for tea’ means, Mr. Odinson,” she declared, unlocking her own door. “I’m a good, respectable girl, and I’ve known you for such a small amount of time. I’m not going to give you what you want that easily.”

Loki decided against arguing with her about his motives and instead called out in an almost desperate plea: “Might I see you again tomorrow? Perhaps we can go on another outing.”

Camryn pursed her lips, and while she was quite deflated at the fact that she would probably never see this man again, it showed not at all on her face. “Unfortunately, you can’t. I leave for Southampton first thing in the morning.”

“Southampton?” Loki exclaimed as if in disgust. “Why are you going there?”

“I’m travelling home to New York, remember? My ship is sailing from that particular port in a few days.”

“And what ship might that be?”

“Don’t you know?” Camryn was genuinely surprised. “I’m departing on a vessel called the Titanic. It’s quite popular, and has been in the news for months. It’s supposed to be unsinkable, and the grandest ship in the world.”

Loki scoffed. “How ignorant. Anything can be sunk.”

“I agree with you, and believe that it’s rather unwise to play up that aspect of advertising lest it backfire. However, I hope and pray that it doesn’t, because I will be on that unsinkable yet completely sinkable ship.” Her grin widening, Camryn opened her door and disappeared inside. “Goodnight, Mr. Odinson. I do hope our paths cross again.”

Left completely dumbstruck, soaking wet and dripping onto the rug in a dark hallway at an outrageous hour of the night, only one thing was clear to Loki in that moment.

He had to find his way onto the Titanic.

Next Part

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic

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