#they was the first person she snuck into the suitcase and the one who taught her to value times and pictures

[the-blossica-fan]

Greetings!

The living situation in the suitcase will always be a mystery.

Like, laundry schedules: with clothes from loads of people from different eras and probably vey different methods of cleaning how the hell do they do dry cleaning? Maintance for Isolde's outfits must be extensive.

Anyways I have a fun/ angst ridden hc for Vertin: her outfit came from a tailor she met once, because clearly her outfit doesn't align with the Foundation's standard uniform, I hardly think being the TK would warrant an outfit so different to the usual colours (they really do lean towards the Manus in being darker).

I'll say she meant them really young, early on starting out as the TK, befriending a tailor in London who took pity on Vertin's attire, ill fitting field investigator outfit for a 12-13 year old. Vertin is still heavily suffering from the incident of the Breakaway so to that tailor shes a soppy wet cat in clothes that don't fit her at all.

The tailor? Up to you if u wanna flesh out who they are: attire wise VERY similar to current Vertin clothes, maybe longer and with a different accented colour. Vertin was staring at the clothes from the window until the tailor invited her in.

Two days later Vertin walks out in the attire we know today, maybe the tophat scarf thing was originally worn by that tailor, given as a gift. Probably the first clothes not dictated by the Foundation.

Ofc we probably know what happened to the people before Regulus, maybe the tailor was the first person she attempted to save in the suitcase but failed, the clothes while a little big serve as a remainder to that tailor and the little independence it gives Vertin.

If we ever met this tailor, in a miracle scenerio that we finally find a way to save the reversed I see a scenerio of that tailor meeting Vertin again, older and matured: "I see the clothes really do fit you now, right Vertin?"

(uh i made an oc didnt i. Make of this as you wish!)

Greetings once again, comrade!

Every time you send an ask it's either something fun that I'll have my time thinking over or angsty things you throw at me and I accept. This is the second.

The foundation has a thing with giving their youngest workers outfits far too big for them, it wouldn't be strange for Vertin to be walking around in a ugly gray tuxedo that didn't fit well. She had no hat but her hair would be in the same hairstyle as ever, something Madam Z gave to her.

Even then, Vertin still held that curiosity and wanting in her eyes, so when she saw a beautifully tailored suit being displayed inside the window of a tailor shop, she stopped to look at it, in a trance.

Knowing the story, perhaps this character you're describing to me is around 20 to 25 years old, but I think it would be fit for them to be around 28 to 32. They would run a tailoring business that's not doing good in money despite the works being so beautifully made, and once they saw Vertin outside with the ugly foundation fit she wore, they offered her to come in.

The inside of the shop is beautiful, covered in multiple tailored clothes and self-made outfits that surprised Vertin. The tailor would be taller with the iconic top-hat on their head and (maybe) medium length hair hanging out of it. They'd wear some nice clothes, dark but beautifully put together blues and whites that reminded Vertin of the suit outside.

She didn't carry any money so she could only speak with them, and, by accident, creating a strong friendship between the two. Vertin would pass by every time she was free and would always wonder why the shop is so empty.

One day, the tailor decided to make Vertin something that would look good on her to replace that foundation wear that made her look weird. They asked for no money, a loving gift for a friend.

It would be similar to theirs by Vertin's request. It was a little big, but they predicted Vertin would grow taller, so they made it slightly bigger to fit when she grew.

"It's lacking the hat. Don't worry, I'll make you one in no time." Said the tailor to Vertin after tailoring the suit, fixing the foundation logo in it.

The storm was approaching quickly, perhaps the 1980's storm that washed away the era completely, and Vertin knew it.

She asked the tailor if they trusted her, and after some hesitance, they nodded and (with a lot of surprise) entered the suitcase. Vertin informed them of the storm as it approached, telling them how it would wash away the eras and return to the past, but inside the suitcase, they would be safe.

(this isn't allowed to tell but Vertin broke the rules for her first outside friend who mattered a lot to her)

However, she didn't count the fact that humans could not survive the storm, and as they began to notice their body starting to turn into nothing (like Mr. Karson did), they turned to Vertin and took off their top hat.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make you a hat that fits better, but I hope you like this one.

The hat tipped to the side due to it being too big for Vertin, and she watched as her friend turned to nothing right in front of her eyes. Only their clothes and the top hat on her head remaining.

She didn't have a single picture of them, and with time, she began to forget their face and looks. After this, she bought a camera and began to take pictures of every new friend she made in case they disappeared, so she would never forget about them.

If they were to ever meet again, I think it would be back in the same era. Vertin would be elated to go back to the tailor shop and she would see, in nostalgia, how the same suit she saw back when she was 12 was still there, as if it belonged there.

She walked inside, and there was the tailor, sipping on their tea with a smile before turning to her. They hadn't changed a bit, the era returned them to the same spot they were before.

"Vertin? Is that you? Wow, you have grown so quickly! The suit fits you perfectly, I knew I was right."

And they were met with a hug, Vertin's face covered by the hat pressed against their own suit.

"mm? You're okay? You're a weird one, Vertin. Ah, is that my top hat? It really fits you"

This time, they brought them into the lively suitcase, and they wouldn't disappear like they did all those years ago.

[incorrectbatfam]

Can I get headcanons for an au where Bruce adopted the kids when they /were/ babies, please?

Use the bathroom, get comfortable, and maybe have some tissues on hand.

For these headcanons, we’re gonna assume they were adopted in order of age, and that they’re all under 18. So Dick and Babs are 16 (with Babs being older), Harper is 14, Cass is 13, Jason is 12, Tim is 7, Steph and Duke are both 5 (with Steph being older), Carrie is 3, and Damian is 1. Yes, I’m aware that it diverges from canon age gaps but once you keep reading you’ll see why I did that.

Now for the headcanons (in no particular order):

Alfred is “Grandpa” and Bruce is anything from “Dad”, “Pops”, “Old man”, “Baba”, etc. All the other adults, like Kate or Clark, are aunts and uncles.

Steph and Duke compete over everything, like who can tie their shoes the fastest or learn to ride a bike first. Steph makes a point of letting everyone know she’s older, but Duke fires back with the fact that he’s taller. They’re both at the top of their kindergarten class and are known for butting heads, but God help anyone who decides to pick on one of them.

Harper got her first period at school while wearing white shorts. Thankfully, Dick and Babs came in clutch.

At school, Kon told Tim that he got ten dollars every time he lost a tooth. Tim tried to hack the system by pulling a bunch of teeth out at once (thankfully to no avail) until someone caught him.

Babs has a different secret handshake with each person.

When Damian first came along, everyone expected Carrie to be angry or jealous since she’d no longer be the baby of the family. And she was a little jealous at first. But the moment she saw him, her eyes went wide and she whispered, “He’s so tiny” and vowed to protect him with everything she had.

The last business trip Bruce took was when Cass was a baby, and the reason why it was his last one was that while he was abroad, Alfred sent him a video of Cass taking her first steps and he burst into tears in the middle of a meeting because he wasn’t there to witness it in person.

Dick once used Damian as a wingman to pick up girls. It worked so well that Jason tried the same thing, only to have it grossly backfire on him.

Whenever Bruce needs a break, Alfred will call everyone to the living room for one of his infamous spy stories.

Cass is the queen of April Fool’s.

Tim, Steph, and Duke regularly climb on each other’s shoulders to try to reach the cookie jar.

Harper is a pro at getting gum out of people’s hair. Tim is a pro at the exact opposite. 

Bruce gives Dick “the talk”. Dick then gives it to Harper who gives it to Cass who gives it to Jason and by then it’s so misconstrued by then that Bruce has to re-give it to all the kids.

One time Jason lashed out at school and it led to the teachers referring him to a therapist. Bruce stayed with him during the first appointment and Jason admitted to feeling unwanted because of what some kids at school said. Meanwhile, back at home, all the other siblings were trying to get their names to be Damian’s first word, like a competition. None of them ended up winning because when the other two came home, Damian called out to Jason. (And Jason cried on the spot because it didn’t matter what people said at school, he was wanted by the right people).

Group outings with the Kents or the Allens are a normal occurrence.

Harper gave Bruce a heart attack when she DIYed her hair dye and piercings.

The first time Tim saw a shooting star, he was convinced that aliens had arrived to take over the world. His conspiracy-driven panic spread to his younger siblings and that’s how Alfred found them all hiding in a blanket fort wearing saucepans as helmets.

Steph once got lost at the mall and the first thing she did was buy ten Build-A-Bears. 

Cass regularly carries her younger siblings like suitcases.

Bruce never rushed Dick into getting a license or helping out around the house.

Harper once snuck on a train to the next town without telling anyone because she wanted to ask Kate advice on coming out.

Nobody got any sleep for the forty-eight hours when Damian’s favorite stuffed animal went missing.

Duke is a LEGO kid. Carrie is a horse girl. Together they created the ultimate toy equine sanctuary.

Bruce can’t ground the kids. They’ve unionized.

Jason is no longer allowed to pick movies on account of the time he chose an R-rated slasher.

It’s an open secret that Cass accidentally left Tim at a haunted house once. 

Alfred custom sews a ten-person "get along" shirt.

Duke once snuck Damian to school for Show And Tell. Steph ratted him out almost right away.

Jason tried to make his younger siblings reenact Shakespeare. It lasted a good thirty seconds before it dissolved into people hitting each other with props.

As a big mystery/conspiracy theory person, Tim was wholly convinced that Damian was an extraterrestrial because the first time he saw him, it was at the hospital where Damian was hooked up to a bunch of machines after he was born. It wasn’t until after three different people explained the concept of preemies to him did Tim finally get it.

Carrie loves to play dress-up and will rope in anyone in the vicinity.

Bruce’s favorite song to sing to someone when they’re upset is Lean On Me by Bill Withers

Cass taught everyone obscenities in sign language and it was all fine until someone caught Babs at school and she got detention

Alfred can’t remember the last time the house was not babyproofed.

Between birthdays, holidays, Gotcha Days, and other special days, there’s always a reason to celebrate at Wayne Manor.

Whenever they fly on the private jet Duke's in the cockpit insisting he knows more about airplanes than the pilots (Alfred or Kate) bc he watched the Planes movie.

Harper got matching leather jackets for all the sisters.

Bruce gives Tim "coffee" that's 90% milk and a splash of coffee for flavor.

Cass and Jason communicate solely in inhuman grunts.

Carrie can and will latch onto the first person she sees like a koala bear.

There's a running gag among friends on how many siblings Dick has because he tells stories without ever using names.

Bruce comes home after a long day of work and everyone drops what they're doing to dogpile on him.

Harper only got an after school job to pay for her Club Penguin membership.

They all make snowmen in descending size order with Bruce's being this huge towering one and Damian's being like three inches tall.

The girls have a "no boys (except the baby) allowed" zone.

Carrie can't pronounce the letters "R" or L".

When Damian learns to crawl suddenly all the other family members become a jungle gym.

Bruce doesn't notice when someone invites a friend over without permission because what's a few extra kids anyway?

Harper comes out and for a week people wouldn't stop making bi puns.

They try to do that thing where each family member puts a different colored handprint on the mailbox and they end up running out of space.

As the oldest Dick gets stuck with babysitting or he's forced to let Jason tag along when he goes out (bc all parents make their older kids do that) and he resents it but at the same time no one can talk trash about his siblings.

Damian's animal collection begins when he brings in a mouse from the yard. (Cue the hilarious siblings-helping-him-hide-new-pets montages.)

Someone beat Bruce for “World’s most attractive man”, but that’s okay because he was voted “World’s happiest man” instead.

[acreativeme]

Generational Trauma

Generational Trauma 

Clinton Skye x Reader 

Y/N snuck down onto the floor of her bathroom, positive pregnancy test sitting on the sink. They couldn’t be pregnant, she thought. They weren’t even supposed to be together. Y/N and her partner, Clinton Skye, grew up thinking that the other was an undomesticated beast or at least that is what their parents taught them. 

“Baby? Everything alright?” Clinton asked, sensing something was up with her.

Y/N coughed, quickly brushing the tears away. “Yeah, everything is fine.” She got up and opened the door. “I’m pregnant.” She blurted. 

Clinton’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

She nodded her head. “The test came back positive.” She held it up to him. “I need to meet with my doctor to confirm.”

He tossed the test onto the counter behind her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Yeah!” He picked her up, which made her laugh. “We are going to be parents!” 

Once she was back on the ground, Y/N sighed. “Speaking of parents, when are we going to tell ours about us? I mean we’ve been together for years and we are going to be parents ourselves.”

He caressed her cheek, trying to distract her. “I don’t think now is the best time to tell them, my folks are still mourning Angelyne’s death.”

Y/N froze, knowing that was not the complete truth. “Clinton, she’s been dead for over a year now. Don’t you think that learning they are going to be grandparents again will make them happy?” 

He gave her a skeptical look. “I don’t think so..” 

She nodded in understanding. “You don’t think them finding out who the mother is, is going to help.” She stepped around him, moving towards the closet. “I get it.” She threw some clothes into a suitcase. 

“That’s not what I meant…” He tried to back track.

She held up a hand to silence him. “That is exactly what you meant.” She moved around him to get some things out of their shared bathroom. “I think that I am going to visit my parents.” 

He grabbed her wrist. “That’s not necessary, baby.” he was practically begging her not to go.

She looked down at his hand, not having the mental strength to deal with this anymore. “Let go, Clinton.” She muttered, not looking up to meet his eyes.

He let her go, not saying anything as she walked away from him. His own tears began to fall as he heard the front door shut.

Y/N’S POV

Y/N sat in the driveway for a few moments, hoping that Clinton would come after her. But he didn’t. There was no movement at the windows from the living room or their bedroom, so she took that as a sign to leave. She brushed away the tears as she put her car in drive, not wanting to break down.

She wanted to get to her parents before day break, but had to stop after only three hours.  She pulled into a gas station, needing gas and a bathroom break. There was no one else at the station other than the clerk, a young edgy looking woman with headphones in. Y/N sat in the bathroom, crying into her hands. She briefly glanced at her phone, not seeing anything from Clinton. A part of her had hoped that he would come to his senses and reach out to her, but he didn’t. I guess he doesn’t care as much as I thought he did. She thought, wiping her tears away. She finished up quickly, wanting to get some snacks and go. 

She grabbed a couple bottles of water, two bags of BBQ chips, and a king size pack of Reese. The clerk didn’t say anything to her other than the price of her snacks-- didn’t even offer her a bag or anything. Y/N gave her a small smile, not wanting to come off as rude, and wished her a goodnight. Y/N tossed her items into the passenger seat, so that she could get gas. She got back on the road quickly, putting on music to distract her from the fact that the person that she loves has not attempted to make contact with her. 

She made it to her parents home by 6 am, having only stopped to reach out to her employees about opening the shop without her for a few days. 

Her father was standing on the front porch as she got out of her car. “Alskling, what are you doing here?” His baritone voice was laced with sleep. 

Y/N choked back a sob. “Pappa, I made a mistake.” She walked closer to him.

He stepped down off the porch to wrap her in his arms. “It is okay, pappa is here for you.” He slowly began ushering her into the house. “Tell pappa what has happened.” 

She stepped away from him. “I am pregnant, pappa, with Clinton Skye’s baby.” 

Clinton’s POV…

He snuck to his knees as Y/N walked out of their shared room. He didn’t know why he let her walk away from him, but he couldn’t make himself go after her. 

Or even get up from the floor. He sat there all night, just staring into space. He was startled awake from his daydream by his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

In a panic, Clinton fumbled with his phone. “Y/N?”

Jess frowned on his side of the phone. “No? It’s Jess. Is everything okay?”

Clinton sighs upset that it wasn’t Y/N. “Yeah, everything is fine. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve got a case, how quickly can you get here?” Jess asks worry, burying itself in his chest. 

“I can be there in 30 minutes.” He hung up without furthering the conversation that he knew Jess wanted to have. 

He changed out of yesterday’s clothes, not bothering to fix his hair or put on deodorant. His heart ached as he moved through the house in silence. He was so used to hearing Y/N humming in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for them. She would dance along to whatever was playing in her head, without fear of judgement.  

He didn’t linger too long in the house, knowing that he would lose all composure. He was quick about getting in his car and going, not wanting to think about their driveway without her car.

Y/N’s POV…

Y/N sat against the headboard of her childhood bed, knees pressed to her chest. Her father had spent the first two hours of her visit yelling at her about the bad choices that she was making. And how he couldn’t believe she would sleep with the enemy. Her mother had come down, still in her night clothes and rob, as he was forcing Y/N to sit on the couch. Her mother had started to chastise him, but was stopped by his raised hand. 

“What is going on, Hugo?” Astrid asked, coming to stand behind her daughter.

“Our daughter has been keeping a secret from us.” He crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed. 

Y/N sighed. “Mamma, I’ve been dating Clinton Skye for nearly ten years. We moved in together last year, that is why I haven’t invited you all to my new place.” Y/N turned around to make eye contact with her mother. “And I am pregnant with his child.”

Astrid gasped, clutching her heart and covering her mouth. “Oh, Alskling. Why did you do this to us?” She turned to her upset husband, “where did we go wrong?!” 

This continued for another hour and forty-five minutes, before her mother sent her upstairs to get some rest. They wanted to talk about everything that she shared with them, disappointment displayed clearly on their faces. Even though Y/N is in her early thirties, her parents still have a lot of control with her life. They had immigrated from Sweden right after they got married, barely 20 years old, to escape a family feud of their own-- which makes what they are doing hypocritical. Y/N never questioned her parents disdain for the Skye family, until she met Clinton Skye and he turned out to be nothing like what her parents told her.

Y/N was subconsciously rubbing her stomach when her parents walked in, both looking stern and upset. “Alskling, we’ve decided to send you to Sweden for a few months to stay with family.” Her father stated, not leaving room for discussion. 

Y/N gasped, standing up from the bed, “you can’t do that, pappa. I am an adult. And I’ve got a business to run, I can’t just leave for a few months!”

Her father puffed up his chest, “Either you go to Sweden like we have said, or you will be disowned and will never be allowed to talk to us or your siblings again.” His tone was serious and hard, which threw her off as she had never heard him talk like that.

Her mother, who had been silently standing by the door, spoke up. “You will have no help with the baby and no inheritance to be able to support you and the baby.”

Y/N laughed, brushing her tears away, “you think I care about money? I make good money on my own, if you hadn’t noticed.” She looked down, knowing her choice. “I will go to Sweden, but I need to make arrangements for my business.” She wasn’t going to be able to raise this baby without help and without Clinton, her family was all she had left. 

Clinton’s POV…

He couldn’t focus. His heart ached as the hours passed without word from Y/N. Even though they were fighting, he still hoped that she would reach out to him and let him know that she was okay. His withdrawn behavior was worrying the team. 

“Clinton, can we talk for a moment?” Jess asked, pointing to a door that led outside.  

He looked up, nodding, “yes.” 

Jess led him off to the side, trying to make sure no one else would overhear them. “I am concerned for you, Clint. It is not like you to be so unfocused, especially on a case.” 

“Nothing is wrong, Jess.” He tried to deny it, but neither believed him. 

Jess reached out and patted his shoulder. “You should call her.” 

Clinton looked up at him. “What?”

Jess sighed, “you should give Y/N a call. You haven’t been yourself for the last couple of days and it is starting to affect your work. And we can’t have that, especially not with this case.” 

After taking in what Jess was saying, Clinton nodded and went off to call her. He had tried her phone twice, but was sent straight to voicemail--which he found odd. He dialed the number for her shop, silently hoping that she was busy there and wasn’t ignoring his calls.

After three rings, a female voice answered. “Stargazing Sweets, this is Melinda. How can I help you?” The voice was cheerful and sweet.

His heart sank. “Melinda, it is Clinton. I am trying to get a hold of Y/N. Is she there?”

“Oh hello, Clinton! She didn’t tell you, weird? She is going off to Sweden for a little bit to visit a sick relative!” There was a pause and a rustling noise, “from the email that she sent me, I think that her flight should be leaving in the next couple of hours.”

His breath caught in his throat. How could she not have told him that she was leaving? “Thank you, Melinda. I am going to try and give another call.” 

“No problemo! Have a good one, Clinton!” Click. She hung up on him.

Clinton sighed, anger burning in his chest. How did their relationship go from laughter and bubble baths to her leaving the country and not telling him? In frustration, Clinton punched a tree. In hindsight, it was not a very bright move because now his hand hurt. He stalked back into the building, needing to find information on her flight.

Both Kenny and Hana were sitting at a computer, so he decided to ask them for help. “Hana, Kenny. I need your help getting information about a flight.” 

The pair shared a look, before nodding. “Sure, if it means you’ll be returning to normal.” Kenny jokes.

Uncharacteristically, Clinton glared at him. “This is not a time for your jokes, Crosby. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N and her flight is heading to Sweden.” 

The pair nodded in sync, not wanting to piss Clinton off further. Hana was the first to find anything, so without hesitation she sent it to his phone. “I found the information and have sent it to your phone. If you hurry, you might be able to catch her.” 

He smiled briefly, “Thank you.” Without any further words, Clinton walked out of the office. 

As he was opening the door to his car, he dialed his mother’s number. She picked up right away, “Hello, Mom? Is dad around, there is something I have to tell you both?” He was finally ready to share his truth.

Y/N POV…

Her parents left her at the airport, not wanting to see her off-- hell, they didn’t even say goodbye. Though she had made the decision to go to Sweden, they were still giving her the silent treatment. Clinton had called her twice as they were driving to the airport and she had to decline both of them right away, so that her parents didn’t turn around and see. As she was walking away from the luggage drop off, she received a text from Melinda that said Clinton was looking for her. She sent a thumbs up as a reply, signaling that she is aware. 

As she walked through security, she made the decision not to call him back. She knew that if she did, she’d allow herself to be talked out of leaving. And she couldn’t allow that to happen. She needs her family… but she needs him too.  She found her gate fairly easily, only stopping to buy a drink and a sandwich. Her father wouldn’t allow her to have breakfast before they left, so her and the baby were starving. 

She took a seat by a window, wanting to watch the employees work. She slipped her headphones in, wanting to keep strangers from interacting with her. She wasn’t feeling music, so she turned on the latest episode of her favorite podcast, Ladies & Tangents (which is an actual podcast that I love!). Y/N picked at her sandwich, zoning out as Jeri and Ciara joked about shitting in a closet. She was so focused on the podcast that she didn’t notice someone walk up to her, which is something that Clinton had taught her not to do. She nearly jumped out of her skin as the person bent down in front of her.

Pulling off her headphones, Y/N shook her head. “What are you doing here, Clinton?” She asked, both equally shocked and happy about him being there.

He reached forward to hold her hands. “I heard you were going to Sweden and I wanted to see if I could get you to stay.” He squeezed her hands, voice cracking. “I am so sorry. I messed up. I was so worried that my parents would hold you in the same regards as your family. I was scared and I let that fear affect our relationship, which is something I should’ve talked to you about and not kept to myself.”

A tear ran down her cheek. “Oh, Clinton. I have to go…” She trailed off, not really wanting to admit why.

He tried to brush the tears away, heart aching at how broken she looked. “Why do you have to go?” She looked away from him, which caused him to try and turn her face to look at him. “Y/N, what aren’t you telling me?” She took a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to tell him the truth. “My parents threatened to disown me and keep me away from my siblings. I told them about us and they threatened to disown me.” She blurted, not being able to hold back.

Clinton froze, feeling every ounce of pain pouring out of her. “Oh, baby.” He pulled her to his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I told my parents about us. I told them that you were nothing like your parents, that you made it your mission to learn about our heritage.” He whispered.

She pulled back, shock evident in her eyes. “You did?” 

He nodded, “and they would like to meet you, but only if you want.” 

She looked over his shoulder at her gate, trying to decide what she wanted to do. “I think..” flashes of her parents judging her and not listening to anything she tried to tell them popped up, making it an easy decision. “I think I would love to meet them.”

Clinton grinned, happy tears falling down his cheeks. “Good,” he stood up, “because I’ve already had the airport pull your luggage from baggage claim…” He stated bashfully.

She smacked his chest as he helped her up. “How could you be so confident that I would say yes to coming back with you?” 

He shrugged, throwing his arm over her shoulder, “Baby, I just know you so well.” He pecked to the side of her head.

They both laughed at that, happy to be together again.

[imagine-loki]

The Slutty Webs One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 6 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Brianna's surprise was a bedroom matching the guest room at Tony's and much more. Loki had conjured a two thousand square foot flat into an underground rock formation with sleeping quarters and private ensuites at either end. The main rooms were open concept, all the lighting adjustable to simulate midday or dusk and she followed his gaze to a set of drapes in the dining area.

"I dare speculate what's beyond. Don't you?" He asked.

Another room simulating the outdoors had a domed ceiling painted like the sky, two walls a tropical rainforest and the third a beach scene. Below it was a narrow pool, running the rooms length and to her left, a swing set and exercise apparatus. Brianna ran to him and squealed with delight when he spun her around in his arms. "You did all this for me?"

"With great pleasure."

"It's the best. Our own perfect hideaway, but aren't you exhausted?"

He chuckled. "Had I conjured a palace, perhaps. My magic is very powerful."

She suddenly looked concerned. "Sooo, nobody knows I robbed those houses? I really don't want to go to jail."

"Og Min Lille, no one. You're free now and shall never live imprisoned again." Loki wanted to erase those sad memories, but she was too young. It risked relearning to walk and talk, achievements well established in adults and possibly forgetting vital information that could help locate her 'imprisoners'. "Let's focus on the happier times ahead. I'm hungry are you?" Inside, he opened a suitcase of food taken from Thor's. "Can you believe the God of Thunder eats marshmallows? His face must resemble an oversized zit."

Brianna's giggle was so adorable he wanted to gobble her up. "Do you like pranking him?" She asked.

"Me? The God of Mischief? Nooo."

"Your nose is growing, Pinocchio."

"Who?"

She explained the character, Loki feigned panic, conjured a mirror and made funny faces while checking his reflection at different angles. "It's not a centimeter larger than the last time I looked. Who's the prankster?" They made smores together and Loki's first bite resulted in a glob of marshmallow dangling from his chin.

"It's okay." Said Brianna. "Uncle Cootyoodles wore most of his first time we made them. Pepper too. He was holding one for her taste when a glob fell down her shirt, she smeared some into his hair and what a mess that followed. Tony started chasing her around the island trying to stuff them into her pockets, but Pepper was crafty. She grabbed the partially melted ones and tried smearing more into his hair. When he blocked it, she slid one under his t shirt sleeve and mashed it into his armpit. They'd begun cleaning up when he snuck chocolate sauce from a cupboard and squirted some onto her head."

"Did uncle Cootyoodles get in trouble?"

"No. They chose a third target and boy did she become invisible fast."

Loki laughed.

"Tony's super funny. Did you know he hides boxes of Count Chocula in their apartment?"

"Where?"

"No way, Jose. I plan a return visit. He might not share if you tattle."

Loki suddenly felt trapped in a web of deceit. Telling Brianna that wasn't possible, or of his intention to move her to Asgard permanently risked jeopardizing her trust. Might she become angry enough to vanish at first chance? He could cap her abilities with a spell, but that meant the same and not learning her full capacity. He was damned either way and wondered if all parents shared this dilemma. Making decisions for their child's best interest knowing they'll be resented for them. And what of the biggest? Telling his Daughter she was a Goddess. With time on their side he opted to mull things over.

That evening he gave her a swimming lesson, cut her hair into a bob with bangs, altered his to salt and pepper, conjured brown contacts and together they planned their first adventure. ***** On Asgard, after reading Loki's letter in her private parlor, Frigga had whisked Astrid off to the observatory.

Heimdall saw them coming and stiffened with the Allmother's scowl. 'Odin's toupee, Beelzebub is resurrected.' "Greetings my gracious Queen and my lady. What can I do for you?"

"Find Loki, please?" The Allmother instructed.

"He's left realm?" Astrid replicated her scowl and he gazed into the cosmos. "Right away." 'Before one of you sprout horns.'

The search was taking too long and Frigga caught on why. "Has my son veiled himself?"

"I cannot see him." 'Fuck. How many holes can you dig in one lifespan, Fenrir?'

Astrid looked ready to hyperventilate. "I didn't hide from him down there."

The Gatekeeper did like the Duchess, yet occasionally questioned her sensibility. 'Maybe because you lack such powers?'

The Queen dismissed her nonsense and calculatingly advised. "Worry not. I have a plan."

Heimdall prayed to the Norns it didn't include an inverted pentagram. ***** The next night, Loki and Brianna exited a portal into a dark alley in Paris.

"This way, darling. You're going to love The Ritz."

An inebriated man witnessed the phenomenon from his apartments alley window. "Sacre bleu! No more cheap merde for moi." ***** In New Mexico, Thor was watching How to Train Your Dragon, thinking Toothless would make his Father a great pet. Odin blitzed on ale and the pair swooping down on Asgards Einherjar as he taunts the warriors. 'Catch me if you can, suckers!' Frigga's in pursuit on a skid. 'Land you ancient ripstonker or I'll tan your hairy hide!' He chuckled at the vision, crushed an empty beer can against his forehead and the doorbell rang. "Must be my neighbor Willie with another complaint. Yesterday the stereo's volume, tonight our TV's. Guess I should pity the old bugger, his surname being Stroker. Coming!" He politely shouted. 'Rickety ray of sunshine.' "Evening Mr...Astrid???"

"Hi."

Thor inwardly cringed when she rolled in a suitcase and paused a second to think. Heimdall always delivered him to spots where Loki had hidden vehicles, but Astrid didn't have a license. "How did…" He picked up her luggage when the bell rang again.

"You should answer that."

He did to someone looking less a ray of sunshine than grumpy Mr. Kneads-his-knob. "Mother???" It suddenly clicked why Loki had warned him Astrid might visit. He'd intended to shield himself and Brianna from Heimdall.

"Don't look so shocked. Last summer your Father surprised me with a brief trip to Norway. A beautiful country, but too many nude beaches. While there, he taught me to drive and Seidre granted me a fake license."

"Why didn't you mention it?"

"I had intended to surprise you by coming with Astrid and Loki on their next visit. In light of your mail delivery, I came sooner. Now where's your brother?"

"I don't know and presume he's veiled?"

"You're lying and we know he has a daughter." Said Astrid. "It was in the letter."

She'd never addressed him so crassly and Thor dismissed it to upset. "I'm not and imagine it was, hence your presence. He spelled me to sleep with a tonic I thought ale and upon waking, they were gone. In 'my' letter, Loki apologized for leaving unannounced, didn't explain why and asked I make the delivery."

"Loki apologized to you?" Asked Frigga.

"Yes."

"This I must see to believe. Show me."

"Impossible, Mother. He spelled that too."

"He what?" Asked Astrid.

"It's in the ink." Replied the Allmother. "The paper dissolves within minutes once exposed to oxygen."

The Duchess shook her head. "This is wrong. Loki claims to have had no relationship with a woman he impregnates then runs off with a child they supposedly created without a word to his wife or Mother?"

"She's right, Thor. If your Father and I truly do have a granddaughter, your brother should've said so, brought her to Asgard and introduced us."

"Loki didn't believe me at first, but knew the instant they met. Like myself."

"So he really didn't come for a bondage session with his big brother." Said Astrid. "You lured him here to meet the girl? Who introduced the two of you? Was the Mother blackmailing Loki and that's why they've vanished? How does he know this person and her daughter aren't working together? Any preteen could learn such skills!"

Thor had retrieved her from Heimdall's last drop and en route to see Tony, was subjected to her jealous assumptions regarding the stories. Loki had once mentioned similar behavior during a visit home with Jane, but this was over the top and he responded curtly. "That's bon-ding and could a six year old, Astrid? Enough with your antics."

"Thor Odinson, mind your manners and tell us everything." Demanded Frigga.

He observed the two expectantly glaring at him and pondered being in his brother's shoes. "No."

"And why not young man?"

Astrid spoke again. "Because he's lying, just like I thought."

The God frowned at his sister in law. "No, because I think I understand now why Loki vanished. Did either of you even hear what I just said? Brianna is six..years..old."

"Frigga's tone softened. "Brianna?"

"Yes, Mother, that's your granddaughters name. Which saddens me to say you'd know had you bothered asking."

"Well if you won't help us, I'll bet Tony knows where Loki is. I'll just call him." Said Astrid.

"You will not." Thor sharply reiterated. "I contacted Stark first thing and he knows nothing. The couple are on vacation. Leave them be."

"Son, at least have some compassion for her feelings." Suggested Frigga.

"Why? I haven't heard a shred of it yet for Loki from either of you and suspect he predicted the same. It's no wonder with our consistent lack of empathy towards him. Jane always disliked him yet the more I spoke of our history, her opinion changed. Humbling mine by insisting I see things from Loki's perspective and candidly pointing out Father's favoritism. I regret a lot, but this isn't a self pity rant. He and Brianna need someone on their side and I'm volunteering, so listen. All I'll reveal is she came to me and refused to say from where or how. I found her cowering inside my apartment after a run and willingly obliged her request to meet Loki." He looked directly at Astrid. "Your husband is innocent, knew nothing of her existence until I told him, yet carries guilt for not rescuing her sooner."

"'Rescuing?'" Asked Frigga.

"Brianna's short life hasn't been a happy one." Thor grabbed his keys.

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here. I need to think."

He left and Astrid sobbed. "I've behaved so selfishly and now Loki's facing this alone."

The Allmother squeezed her hand. "I'm just as guilty, darling, but do get your sexual references straight?"

Astrid cried harder.

"There, there. Loki has to come home eventually."

"How..do you think he instantly kn..knew she was his?"

Frigga suddenly straightened. "Hells bells and Bilgesnipe testicles. Could she possess magic?"

Thor hadn't left to think. Distrustful of Astrid, he needed an excuse to do the one thing Loki had asked him not to. Call Stark. "Heyyy, flying human. Have a minute?"

"Nope. Busy drinking tequila out of Pepper's navel. Later."

She smirked when he hung up. "That was rude."

"What? I can't hold my phone, pour belly button shots and slurp all at the same time."

"Put him on speaker." She suggested.

"Stop moving or I'll pin you to the bed with my suit pieces."

"Now he's calling me. "'I'll' put him on speaker."

"A threesome with big guy?" Tony jested. "Can't we choose someone prettier?"

"You want a threesome? I never thought of sharing 'you' with anyone else."

He belched. "That was ugly. Answer the phone, Butch."

"Hi Thor."

"Sorry, Virginia. It's urgent."

Stark had risen from the bed in his boxers and Pepper withheld laughter as he goofily attempted a full monty. "What's up?"

Thor finished explaining and Tony gasped. "Say what? Pepper and I were about to experiment with shock treatments via my tequila laden nipples and you ruined it."

"He's kidding." She interjected.

The God chuckled. "Whatever ruffles your truffle, Virginia. He's taking it better than Loki predicted."

"It's the booze."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here people."

"Astrid's on realm and has thought of calling." Said Thor. "I won't send her your way. This is just a heads up."

Stark scanned his naked self. "Not anymore."

"Tony." Scolded Pepper.

"Sorry, what?"

"I've convinced her you're on vacation and Brianna came to me."

"Thumbs up, uncle lightning wielder. Why Daddy Snowflake lie and run away?"

"I'm not exactly certain, but suspect to avoid family drama over knowledge of Brianna's existence."

"Are they loco en la cabezas? You tell Loki she can come live here. If she turns our apartment into an ice rink, I'm down with that. I'll teach her how to skate."

Thor's respect for Tony was deepening over his unwavering affection for her. "If Loki contacts you, please warn him our Mother's here too?"

Stark shot upright. "Flaming flamingo fishnets! 'Thee' Allmother is on earth???"

"Not for long if I can help it. Astrid as well."

"'Atta boy! Duct tape them together and hurl 'em up the bifrosty."

"My Mother would have me quartered."

"Pooper shnickers. Saran wrap then?"

Thor laughed. "Virginia?"

"We'll play along. If Daddy Snowflake contacts you, tell him we're a phone call away." ***** Thor opted for a local pool hall instead of going home, but Frigga waited up.

"Does Brianna have powers, darling? I'd appreciate knowing."

He headed straight for his bedroom. "Jane comes home in three days. 'I'd' appreciate if you and Astrid returned to Asgard beforehand."

Frigga stood outside his door. "Thor…"

"Cover me in preserves and tie me to an ant hill, Mother. I'm still not talking."

"Sounds like a kinky ritual to enact on your Father."

He opened it enough to stick his head out. "Are you cray cray?"

"Possibly. If you aren't going to talk then come listen?" He begrudgingly obliged and they sat in the living room. "Forgive my rudeness earlier? I've been overcome with shock and bewilderment since Astrid came to me."

"No more so, than Loki."

"I imagine and have a briefened love story to tell you."

"Again?"

Frigga smirked at the hint of disinterest on Thor's face. "Not mine and your Father's, Loki's and Astrids. When your brother was first pardoned, the people were angry. Palace staff addressed him only when necessary and on the streets, there was talk of him being a traitor. He was miserable so your Father and I allowed him back to Midgard if he promised to stay out of trouble. He rarely cracked a smile on visits home and during one, I convince him to attend a ball by threatening to sacrifice a virgin."

Thor's brows rose. "Mother, you didn't."

"Almost. A young handmaiden he coveted. I'm not as innocent as I appear. Loki spent a good part of it alone, brooding in a side parlor. I'd considered suggesting he lose the glare which conveyed to all, 'come any closer and I'll rip off your limbs' when noticing Astrid edging her way around the room, cautiously evading his sight. I later learned she wanted to greet him unexpectedly, so he mightn't be so quick to reject her. Then as she introduced herself and Loki rose as a gentleman should, he smiled wholeheartedly for the first time in over a year. As you do in Janes presence. Soon he began spending more time at home and no matter the ignorance of others, including her Father's disapproval of their courtship, she lovingly stood by your brother. They were walking arm in arm at last year's harvest festival when someone bellowed 'traitors whore!' Astrid said he furiously demanded the coward show themselves. When no one came forth, she announced to all listening. 'Taunt and think of me as you please, but never forget whose presence you're in. Prince Loki of Asgard, son of your King and Queen and I am his proud fiance, Astrid Heskin.' She's made Loki very happy and it shows in every aspect of his personality."

"I'm just as impressed as I am confused." Said Thor. "If the feeling's mutual, why the constant jealousy?"

"It's between them I suppose." Frigga knew why, but withheld it in confidence.

"Sentiment aside, Loki never said where or when he planned to return. I'll have two days with Jane before she's back at S.H.I.E.L.D and I'm doing charity work. Nor can Astrid keep imposing on Mr. Stark when she and Loki have problems. Please take her home?"

"We'll leave tomorrow."

"Thank you. How did Father take the news?"

"He doesn't know and thinks I came to escort Astrid to Loki."

"Weren't we supposed to be bonding?"

"That, he would never believe and have surely gone to Heimdall. We told him Loki was helping you find Jane a new house as a surprise, Astrid missed him and wanted to help too. He waved us onward amidst his newfound kingly pleasure, a pedicure."

"Father gets pedicures?"

"It's not as though they paint his nails slut red. Centuries in leather boots makes for terribly smelly feet."

"Still, that complicates things." Thor explained Loki's conversation about Frost Giants. "My crassness wasn't meant as an insult to his original heritage. After everything Brianna's endured, I merely assumed it information overload for her."

"Darling. Where is the difference in learning she's Jotun or Asgardian?"

"There isn't any. Loki wouldn't reveal all they'd discussed and I'd dreaded he'd informed her Asgardians opinion of Jotuns. That 'we' were taught to fear and hate them."

His words reminded Frigga of her own guilt and shame over lying to her son. "Your Father and I were catastrophically wrong for teaching that. He despised Laufey for senselessly attacking Midgard, but I'm just as guilty for not speaking up."

"His scorn remains, Mother."

"Only because Jotunheim are ruled by a secretive and fluctuating council since Laufey's death and are rumored to be allies with Svartalfheim. They want Nidavellir to join them but the realm will not, claiming fear of animosity from the others and losing their greatest source of income."

"Weapons."

"Yes. Secretly, they are 'our' allies. Through spies, we learn of every weapon they sell and to whom. Should the Jotuns attain this knowledge and see the Dwarves as traitors, your Father dreads an outbreak of war and the senseless demise of millions. The Jotuns tell your Father only enough to appease him and the constant uncertainty has led him to double the size of our Einherjar."

"More you have not told me? Mother, why?"

"You're happy here and in a strategic position as an Avenger. Midgard is safer because of you. Loki knows all of this yet your Father is so edgy, I'm uncertain how he'll react to him being veiled."

"I'm saddened to hear of his duress, yet intend on further mending my relationship with Loki. Wish to join me?"

"Indeed I do."

"Then lie to Father again. Don't tell him Astrid returned and ask her to visit her Mother. Have her agree your back up plan should he question Heimdall sooner is she spoke to Loki, but he'd taken Brianna to Disneyland to bond with her alone. Claim that's why he's veiled and said they'd return 'here' in two weeks. It covers our arses and hopefully buys him time."

"Disneyland?" She queried.

"It's a famous amusement park for children."

"And if Loki doesn't show?"

"We're dungeon bound. Pack a warm sweater."

"Norns. How do I prevent Heimdall from seeing Astrid return?"

Thor groaned. "Snitch about this and I'll never forgive you. Max is sworn to service myself and Loki only or be fed to beasts. He takes bribes, but you can probably intimidate him into staying quiet with one glare."

Frigga jestingly rolled her eyes. "Such hooligans I raised."

"Be grateful to him, Mother. His arse will also be on the line for worse than concealing a mail delivery."

She shrugged. "I'll tell your Father I threatened to confine him to my poisonous spider conservatory."

Thor froze and asked similar question Loki had asked of him. "Are you truly 'our' relative? Asgards warm, kind and Allmotherly Queen?"

"Yes although formidable when required. It's a torture chamber, darling. So our enemies believe. They're artificial replicas of Midgards most deadly with tiny doses of various potions in their fangs. One induces diarrhea, another severe itching, hallucinations and my favorite, temporary paralysis. All with anecdotes, of course and they only attack via my magic. Imagine thousands positioned for battle."

Thor wondered if Frigga had inhaled too many fumes from her potion components and next he'd hear she'd conjured them tiny helmets. "You're right. I am happier here." 'With access to exterminators.'

"Do you think Loki is veiled out of fearing your Father's judgement?"

"Primarily."

The Allmother regretfully sighed. "I'll speak with Astrid in the morning."

She passed him and Thor faced her. "Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Brianna's amazing. Intelligent beyond her years, braver than some Einherjar I've known. You will love her instantaneously and yes, she has powers. The rest is her Father's privilege to disclose."

Frigga's smile conveyed gratitude. "Thank you, son. Goodnight." Astrid slept like a log and with magic, she carefully removed her wedding ring, entered the ensuite, made a replica of it for herself and began whispering. "Loki, darling..." ***** Astrid's ring was on, but Loki wasn't tuned into its frequency, didn't hear his Mother's message, nor of a link to the spell that accessed hers. He was too overwhelmed to endure his families negative rantings. As Brianna slumbered in luxury, he read more of her Mother's diary and lurched forward, seething upon discovering an adversary. 'You?'

Loki added the name to his shit list of most wanted. 'Consider yourself marked, fucker.'

[bootleg-killer]

Alexei Yahontov Biography

G E N E R A L   I N F O

name: Alexei Yahontov aliases: Lexi, Alex faceclaim: Aneurin Barnard nationality: Russian age: Twenty-Six gender: Male sexuality: Openly Pansexual height: 6'1"

B A C K G R O U N D   &   P E R S O N A L I T Y

personality

Alexei was always the wide-eyed dreamer of the family. From a young age, he recognized how miserable everyone around him was and made an effort to go against the flow. When his family would complain, he’d try to see the bright side. His family blamed it on his books and proclivity for fantasizing. Among his fellow soldiers in war, he was given names such as ‘Naive Lexi’ and ‘Kind Alex’.

He prefers to cut tensions with jokes, but is never the type to talk down to someone seriously. He’s an extrovert who thrives in social settings, especially parties, where he likes to be the center of attention (usually by showing off his dance skills). He maintains a motto of giving everyone a chance and keeping an open mind.

But even though he doesn’t appear very affected by his darker upbringings, he’s not adverse to make a switch into seriousness. Growing up a farmer and a soldier taught him how to kill when need be. When he killed, in or out of war, the people around him would site a strange switch in his expression; people came to find that there was a different side to him, hidden beneath layers of blind optimism and blind friendliness.

background

Alexei was the youngest brother of five siblings, but one of only two to survive to adulthood. The gruelling Russian winters claimed two sisters and one brother, leaving only him and his older brother, Viktor. They spent their formative years tending to the farm, potatoes being the primary source of income for his family. On the side, however, they produced bootleg vodka behind the Government’s back. Initially, they only sold to close family and friends, but when alcohol was outlawed in 1914, they began to sell to more and more people.

It wasn’t far into WWI that Viktor was sent off to fight, giving his life for his country soon after. In late 1916, after just barely turning 18, Alexei followed suit at his strict father’s behest, fighting on the frontlines and barely making it back alive in 1917. Though his time in the war was short, it wasn’t long before he was forced to fight in the Russian Civil War as part of the White Army.

He realized a couple of years into the Civil War that he needed an out, and after hearing tall tales of the American Dream and what can be achieved in the USA, he snuck onto the first cargo ship he could, leaving Russia behind forever at the ripe age of 21.

His start in America was rocky. Achieving the dream was harder than he thought, especially for an illegal immigrant. But he kept his spirits high, always being the optimistic but naive type, and made due with what he could. He spent most of his days finding odd jobs, anyone that would take him, and making just enough money to get by. It wasn’t until he entered the Speakeasy scene that things began changing for the better.

He thrived in the partying market. Years of physical fitness in the war and a knack for rhythm made him a natural dancer, and his open and friendly attitude attracted many new friends. The only issue was the legality of it all; by this point, alcohol in America was outlawed, so his presence in America became even more illegal by proxy.

Not long after entering the party scene, Alexei met and fell in love with professional dancer, Mia Walker. As it seemed, she liked him, too, and soon a romance blossomed. There was one major issue, though; Mia was being kept under control by a close ‘friend’ of hers, Xander Smith. Xander told Mia when and where to perform, and pushed her closer and closer to escorting, threatening her with police-intervention if she were to defy him.

Not long into their relationship, things came to a head when Mia convinced Alexei to kill Xander for her. Alexei, being the hopeless romantic that he was and already harboring hatred for his target, did it almost without question. This wasn’t his first murder, but it was the most personal and illegal thus far. After the deed was done, the pair ran off together, escaping from Los Angeles to Chicago.

Life got far more rocky for the lovers, but Mia’s survival instinct soon kicked in with a great idea; using Alexei’s knack for making bootleg liquor. After months of scrounging up any money they could, they managed to get an old farm and begin planting potatoes. Everything about buying the land felt barely legal, but it was a well-needed fresh start for them. An isolated farm where they could hide from authorities and produce alcohol to make money on the side.

The business venture was slow coming at first, but when word got around that there was some decent vodka on the market, money began flowing in. At first, they mostly dealt with Speakeasies in the area, but as demand grew, so did their customer base. Their business caught the eye of the budding Mob in the area, and soon they were selling to them and only them.

The pair made due, though, staying as disconnected from the Mob’s criminal activity as they could. Alexei would occasionally be asked to participate in some more violent activity, being the strong arm that he was, but they were set up quite nicely thanks to their gang affiliations. Their measly farm was upgraded, and more equipment was bought to streamline the vodka making process. After a couple years of business, they were sitting pretty on their own (illegal) fortune.

But an innocent business decision meant disaster. When they were asked to also sell to a different district in Chicago, they agreed without much thought. Mob tensions were at an all time peak and their original buyers saw this as a betrayal. A hit was ordered on them–they were going to be made an example for other bootleggers in the area.

Alexei and Mia caught wind of the kill order just in time to fight back. Alexei was attacked at one of his typical hangouts first, getting shot just below his right ribs, but managing to fight off his attackers with a lead pipe and escape. He rushed back to the farmhouse, bleeding out but barely making it. He was expecting Mia to already be packing their essentials for a quick getaway. He was sure he’d get healed up and they’d start a new life somewhere else, just as they had done years prior.

But when he got home, he found she was gone, along with her suitcase and all of their savings. In their time of greatest tribulation, she had left him to die. With the mob closing in on his farm fast, he collapsed on the porch, too exhausted and sorrowful to escape on his own.

With the sound of racing tires in the distance and his body losing heat by the minute, he watched as a thick evening fog rolled over the house. When the Mob got there, all they found was a pool of blood where Alexei used to be.

K I L L E R   I N F O

MORE INFO COMING SOON

weapon: A two and a half foot lead pipe with a turn at the end. It looks as if it was torn directly from a wall to be used as a makeshift weapon.

ability:

killer stats:

base walking speed: 115%

size: Medium

perks

[evilfairytales]

I did this and I am not sorry. It was in my brain and wouldn’t shut up, now it gets to live in yours too. 

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

Sunset Shimmer grumbled sleepily and made a sour face as a beam of sunlight snuck through the bedroom curtains and struck her full on the face. She twisted around under the covers and reached out for the other side of the bed, grumbling again as her hand found nothing but blankets. With a cranky groan she pulled herself into a sitting position with a huge yawn and a stretch. As she rubbed her bleary eyes, she sniffed the air, and a wry smile appeared on her face. There was a definite smell of sweet baked goods in the air. She sniffed again. And coffee. Yes, coffee was definitely involved in whatever was going on downstairs.

That was enough, barely, to get Sunset out of bed. She pulled on a robe and shuffled downstairs towards the kitchen. Sure enough, a familiar figure was standing at the counter in a puffy yellow nightgown, a cascade of frizzy pink hair pouring down her back. Sunset paused in the doorway as she heard the distinct sound of sniffling and whimpering. With a sad little smile of understanding Sunset came up from behind and slid her arms around the other woman’s waist, holding her close and giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Hey,” she cooed softly. “Morning, Love.”

Pinkie Pie sniffed heavily as she poured a mass of chocolaty batter into the waffle maker. “Good morning!” she blurted out, before turning into Sunset’s arms and burying her face in her shoulder.

Sunset leaned her head against Pinkie’s and hugged her close. “C’mon Pinkie...it’s gonna be okay.”

“But our baby is leaving!” Pinkie wailed, her voice muffled by Sunset’s thick plush robe. Sunset felt some tears welling up in her own eyes at that, but she took a deep breath and just held Pinkie like that for a few moments, rocking her back and forth and stroking her head.

Then from the floor above came the sound of a door opening and Pinkie immediately pulled away and wiped her face as footsteps came down the stairs. Pinkie got back to work on the dish that she was preparing and Sunset sighed again, turning to the coffee maker.

A teenage girl appeared in the kitchen doorway with a bright grin. “Gooooooood morning, Moms!” she exclaimed brightly. Her long, wavy hair was a pale red at the roots, fading to a bright amber, with streaks of lighter gold running throughout her locks, in sort of a paler version of one of her mothers’. Her face was a slightly darker shade of pink than her other mother’s, and her excited smile would have been quite familiar to anyone who knew Pinkie.

“Morning hon,” Sunset greeted as she took her first sip of coffee. As the teen in bright blue pjs sat at the kitchen table, Sunset also took a seat and leaned over to give her daughter a kiss on the cheek. “You sure seem excited.”

The girl giggled and Sunset could hear her feet pattering on the floor. “This is gonna be the greatest day of my life!” she exclaimed.

“Well the greatest day of your life needs the greatest breakfast!” Pinkie chirped, all trace of her former tears gone. “For you, Miss Luster Dawn!” With a flourish, Pinkie placed a plate in front of her daughter, piled with chocolate waffles covered in whipped cream and sprinkles, drizzled with chocolate syrup and topped with a cherry.

Luster’s eyes widened. “Triple Chocolate Brownie Waffle Supreme?!” she gasped, instantly grabbing a fork and shoving a huge mouthful of the concoction into her mouth. She moaned with pleasure. “Oh, wow...” she licked her lips clean and smiled up at Pinkie. “Thanks Mom! Oh, I am gonna miss this in Equestria!”

Pinkie’s eyes turned suspiciously liquid again, and she quickly turned away to hide them. “Anytime, sweetie!” she said. “Sunset...you just want eggs, right?”

“Yeah, but it can wait,” Sunset said, still sipping her coffee. “Why don’t you sit down and help Luster polish that monster off?”

“I can finish the whole thing,” Luster said, a little possessively.

“I’m sure, but then I’d have to explain to Princess Twilight why I had to push you through the portal in a diabetic coma,” Sunset replied sardonically.

Pinkie had pulled herself together again and sat next to Luster, the two of them sharing the decadent ‘breakfast.’ “So, are you all packed already?” Pinkie asked, unable to keep all the sadness out of her voice.

“Yeah...it doesn’t take nearly as long if you aren’t packing any clothes,” Luster said with a little chuckle. She looked at Pinkie, then to Sunset, then back to Pinkie, her smile faltering into a sad expression. “I...I’m going to miss you so, so much, you know that, right?”

Pinkie couldn’t help herself anymore and threw her arms around her daughter, pressing their cheeks together and smearing chocolate, whipped cream and sprinkles over both their faces. “Oh, my little baby Dawnie!” she cried. “Do you have to leave so soon?”

“She’s got a point,” Sunset observed quietly. “Graduation was just a week ago. Are you sure you don’t need a little more time to get everything ready, say your goodbyes, all that stuff?”

Pinkie wasn’t crying, but she was clinging tightly to Luster, who hugged her mom back with a little smile that was both sad and determined. “Oh, I said goodbye to everyone at the graduation party,” she said. “I just really want to get to Canterlot...get used to the culture and, you know, being a pony, before school really starts for real.”

Sunset reached out across the table and Luster Dawn did the same, and they squeezed each other’s hands tightly. “And you’re sure this is what you want?” Sunset asked, for what seemed like the hundredth time to her, and probably about the millionth time to Luster.

“Yes,” Luster said firmly. Pinkie finally pulled back, still holding onto Luster’s other arm with one hand and taking occasional bites of chocolate waffle with the other. “Mom,” she said, looking into Sunset’s eyes, and using the particular inflection of the word that made it clear which Mom she meant, “I know studying magic is what I’m supposed to do, I just feel it. And you two, and Professor Twilight, and all your friends, you’ve taught me everything you can. And those books they let you borrow from the Canterlot Archives have been great...but there’s just not enough magic in this world. And most of what there is, well, it’s all tied up in you guys.

“I need to get out there and actually do something. Roll up my sleeves and get my hands dirty!” Sunset squeezed her daughter’s hand tighter as she heard Luster use words that sounded so very, very familiar. “Becoming Princess Twilight’s student...it’s the chance of a lifetime,” Luster said, looking down at the table with a soft, wondering smile. “I know it’s what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know how I know it, but I do.”

Pinkie heaved a huge sigh and slumped against her daughter’s shoulder. “Then...it’s what you have to do,” she said, smiling sadly. She gave Luster a kiss on the cheek, then giggled. “You better get ready. The portal will be open at noon, and you’re all sticky!”

All three stood up and gathered together for a tight hug before Luster went back upstairs with a smile. Pinkie’s own smile stayed on her face, but there were tears running down her cheeks. Sunset embraced her wife warmly again, and Pinkie let out a shuddering sigh as she leaned against her. “My little baby Dawnie,” Pinkie murmured.

“We have to let her do what’s best for her,” Sunset murmured back, her own voice quavering a little. A tear trickled down her amber cheek and she sighed as well. “No matter what.”

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

Just a few short hours later the three of them were in front of Canterlot High, standing by the pedestal that housed the portal to Equestria. Luster Dawn had a pair of small suitcases, filled mostly with her favorite books and various keepsakes she wanted to keep with her. Most items that would have been practical to pack on a trip in the human world wouldn’t be of a lot of use in Equestria.

“The portal’s probably open now,” Luster said, turning to her parents and setting the luggage down. Her voice was shaking. “I...” Tears appeared in her eyes as she ran into Sunset and Pinkie’s arms. “Mom! Momma...thank you! Thank you so much for everything. I love you both so much!”

The three of them hugged tightly, crying quietly for several long, precious minutes that seemed like they went on forever but were over far too soon. “We’ll be there for a visit in a couple of weeks,” Sunset said, her voice rough. “To make sure you’re settling in okay.”

“And I’ll come back in a few months when Mom’s new cookbook comes out,” Luster said with a shaky smile to Pinkie. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything...I can’t wait to take a copy back with me to Equestria.”

Pinkie gave her daughter a huge squeeze. “Oh Luster,” she sighed. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you to test new recipes on!”

“Everyone loves your recipes Mom,” Luster said, hugging back. She looked at Sunset. “And when you finally finish the new album, you can bet I’ll come back for that, too!”

“You’d better,” Sunset said in a soft voice, hugging her daughter as well. “And we’ve got one more thing for you.” She nodded to Pinkie, who pulled a book out of her hair. The brown cover bore Luster Dawn’s own personal insignia, her cutie mark in Equestria. “I asked Princess Twilight to make this for us,” Sunset said as Pinkie handed it to Luster. “We’ve got the other book. It’s like the journal I had with Princess Twilight. With it, we can write to each other whenever we want.”

Luster hugged it to her chest, clearly close to tears again. “I...I’ll write to you guys all the time, I promise!”

Pinkie laughed a little at that. “I think we know you won’t write all the time,” she said teasingly. “You’ll be too busy with all your new friends! But write a lot, okay?”

“I will,” Luster sniffed. She blinked as Sunset stepped forward and tapped a finger against the book.

“You’d better,” Sunset said in a low voice. “You don’t want your mom to get worried and come looking for you, right?”

“Well, she can’t really do that, right?” Luster said with a little laugh. “I mean, the portal only works if there’s a journal plugged into the Equestrian side and...” she trailed off as Sunset just looked at her with a steady, neutral expression. “Yeah, she’d find a way, wouldn’t she? I’ll write. I promise, really.”

“Good.” Sunset gathered Luster in her arms and held her close. “Luster, please pay attention to everything Princess Twilight has to teach you. Even the stuff you don’t really understand,” she said urgently. “I think you’re right...this is what you’re meant to do. So don’t waste the chance. She can teach you so much more than you imagine.”

“I...will?” Luster said uncertainly, clearly not quite getting what Sunset was driving at. “I will, really.” Sunset released her, and Luster stepped backwards to pick up her suitcases again. “I love you,” she said in a near whisper, as she turned to the pedestal.

“We love you too,” Pinkie called, slipping her arm around Sunset’s waist. The two waved to their daughter as, with a last, backwards glance, she stepped through the portal’s shimmering surface and was gone.

Sunset heaved a huge sigh. Pinkie gave her a little dig in the side with her elbow.

“That almost sounded relieved,” she accused in a voice that was part sad, part teasing.

“I’m not relieved she left...but I’m relieved about where she’s going,” Sunset said quietly. Pinkie slid around to Sunset’s front and held her.

“I know,” Pinkie said, stroking Sunset’s back. “Can you stop worrying about her so much now? Maybe?”

“Probably not,” Sunset said with a sardonic smile. “She reminds me too much of me. And some of the parts of me I see in her...aren’t the parts of myself I like very much. I mean...all the way up through the end of high school, she never made even one really close friend.”

“She’s smart, and she’s independent, and she’s strong. She knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to do the work to get it.” Pinkie said firmly. “Just like you. Those aren’t bad things, Sunset.”

“They can lead you to a bad place if you try and do it all alone, though,” Sunset said, her eyes going distant. Then she blinked and shook her head, smiling at her wife. “But I know you’re right. Besides, I always feel better when I remember how much of you I see in her, too. She can have fun. She can be happy...that’s more than I had, before I met you.”

“And now she’s Princess Twilight’s student,” Pinkie said with a regretful sigh. “We just have to trust them both.”

“I do,” Sunset said, hugging Pinkie tighter. “Twilight managed to put me on the right track. Compared to that, getting Luster to understand how important friends are should be easy. Maybe I can stop worrying. At least a little.”

Like they did when they were students Sunset and Pinkie leaned against the side of the pedestal, slipping down till they were sitting against it, leaning on each other, hand in hand. They stayed like that for a long time, each drinking in the presence of the other to help fill the void they both felt with Luster’s departure.

Finally, Sunset stood with a sigh and a stretch, noting wryly that she couldn’t sit on concrete for nearly as long as she used to. “C’mon Love, let’s go home,” she said, holding out her hands and helping Pinkie to her feet.

“Aren’t you going to the studio?” Pinkie asked.

“Eh, I should’ve known I wasn’t gonna feel like it after this,” Sunset said dismissively. Then she looked at Pinkie with a sidelong expression. “Besides, there is one upside to having the house to ourselves that I can think of.”

Pinkie looked back blankly for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Ohhhhhhh….!” she said, blushing. A grin appeared on her face as the two walked off, Pinkie holding Sunset’s arm.

[unfortunate-rp]

Congratulations, CLAIRE! You have been accepted as your original character, KITTY OSWALD. Please be sure to complete the steps listed on the NEW MEMBER CHECKLIST and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

Well, young lady, have you been good to your mother?

OOC INFORMATION

Name: Claire

Age: REDACTED

Pronouns: she/her

Time zone: cst

Activity Level: 8 (I will endeavor to be on at least once every day.)

Tumblr account (for contact purposes): REDACTED

How did you find us?: search through the tumblr rp tags

Triggers: none

Anything Else?:

IC Information:

Name: Kitty Oswald

FC: Chloe Bennet or Phoebe Tonkin

Date of Birth: September 5th

Age: 24

Character Quote: “She was like the moon – Part of her was always hidden away.”

Pronouns: she/her

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Biromantic

Occupation: waitress at Hungry’s Diner, mechanic, car thief

Affiliation: Civilian

Neighborhood: Downtown, apartments above Black Cat coffee

Personality: (charismatic, resourceful, pragmatic) (Stubborn, tempermental, vindictive)

Biography:

Kitty Oswald was born in the Hinterlands. A place which here is synonmous with prison, or with hell. There were three things she loved about her home. Her mother, her uncle, and a blue toolbox with chipped paint. The first of these boarded a train two week after her tenth birth. The second taught her work a car. The third she took with her when she left home at eighteen. The identity of her father was a mystery her mother never revealed and rarely spoke of. After her passing (as they would come to call it) she became the responsbility of her Uncle Otto.

She grew up with greasy hand, overalls, and a pragmatic head. Work came first, then homework, then dinner, and occasionally (on third sundays and fourth thursdays) there was ice cream. She tutored well under Otto’s instructions, leaning how to fix a car up like new and how to mess up the job just enough that the customer returned one month later. In that junkyard with her uncle, she blossomed. Blossomed is a word that here means grew into a headstrong, occasionally visious, and confident young woman. One that had outgrown the hinterlands. So on her eighteenth birthday she got carrot cake (courtesy of a neighbor), stamps, and a bus ticket to the city.

Ambition was for others. Kitty spent her years waitressing, occasionally searching for her parents, and avoiding drama. She took up rent in a one bedroom apartment, adopted herself a (vicious) cat, and spent her days in Hungry’s Diner. Her nights were spent in a much less noble profession of procuring stolen vehicles for her uncle to sell or breakdown into parts. And, in bed some nights, she could not shake the sensation that she was missing something, something obvious, and it was just out of reach.

Connections:

Daughter of Jefferson Oquassa

This is a fact that is unknown to both father and daughter. They had not even met until Kitty was nineteen and came in Kakao. As a chocolate fiend, she is always splurging at the restaurant and has made passing acquaintance with the owner. If anything his staff finds her a bit annyoing as she loves the food, but does not make enough to tip them well.

Acquaintaince of Farrah Abassi

A regular customer at Hungry’s Diner, Kitty enjoys bantering with the woman and can sense that she’s not your typical late night guest. She makes sure to keep the woman’s coffee topped off and finds time to sneak across the booth and snatch a few minutes of easy conversation with someone who wasn’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

Friend of Cassidy Cantrell

Originally a professional arrangement to garner insights into the families in the city and possibly her own heritage, Kitty has grown actually fond of Cassidy. They share a similar thirst and stubborness that endeared her to the woman. When she needs someone to bounce ideas off of, Cassidy is her go to gal.

Headcannons:

She is allergic to bees and once got rushed to the hospital after being stung. Doctors say if she is stung again she could die in less than a minute.

She doesn’t know how to swim. Growing up in the Hinterlands there was little options for swimming lessons. This is a fact she hides and is ashamed to admit.

She can do long division in her head and like her mother has a head for numbers. Multiplication, calculus, whatever it might be she can do without paper or pen. From the age of ten, she managed the books for Otto’s Auto Sales.

Plans: I’d love for Kitty to be recruited into the VFD and have her flirt with the ideals of the firestarters, even join their ranks. She is the daughter of two VFD volunteers, raised literally at their doorstep and I think it will take time for her to find her footing in that world. Eventually I’d like her to be swayed into the status of a volunteeer and to become Jefferson’s protege.

Roleplay: Kitty, despite her pragmatism, is a bit of a loose cannon. She’s smart talking, confident, and yet more vulnerable than most. She has built herself up on quicksand and when the time comes she will find out about her family and her history. I hope to bring someone that evolves over time, that grows and strengthens from being able to access her truths and flex her muscles.

Writing Sample

OO,

            Midnight. Orion’s Observatory. Bring chocolate.

                                                          Secretly,

                                                                 JO

She’d found the note pressed between two random pages in Uncle Otto’s books. It was yellowed, worn at the edge, and still bore the marks of being folded twice. At twelve, only two years removed from her mother’s passing, she’d held the message reverently. She’d traced the long dried ink, and felt along the creases. The date on the bottom, written in the man’s spidery scrawl was exactly 365 days before she’d been born. As Oona Oswald had been fond of pointing out, there are no coincedences only people to blind to see the connections.

She’d slipped the note into the back pocket of her overalls and then into a drawer in her bedside table. Uncle Otto would be none the wiser. The books, the numbers, the mathematics of a business were beyond him. He lived for greasy hands, sticky fingers, and warm bathes in the evening. He was always saying his big sister Oona had passed, always collecting sympaty, and never explaining more. In this context, passed meant less death and more packed suitcase, train ticket, and no goodbyes. She’d stuck around long enough to fill Kitty’s head up with something other than gasoline and then made for the hills.

Never one for attachments that Oona Oswald. And yet she’d kept that message.

She rolls back into the Hinterlands that weekend with minestrone soup, oysters, truffles, and vehicle relieved of her plates. (and her previous owner) The shop looks empty, with crows perched on the rusted sign, and dirt encrusted on the front door. But she sees a pair of legs in jeans and mismatched boots poking out from under a car. As she idles to a stop in front of the garage, her Uncle slides out squints in the yellow evening sunlight. She slips out from behind the wheel, gifts in hand, and nods a greeting.

“Uncle.”

“Not much Hinter left in you is there?” He spits and stands. Six years since she left to go live in the city. They haven’t been kind years on him. He’s greyer, fatter, wrinklier. “You look like a posh city girl.”

She snorts. She doubts any of the uptown girls she sees could pop open a cars dashboard and jumpstart it in less than four minutes. “And you look like a rotting piece of fruit,” she bites back.

There’s a pause. She stares and him, he stares back and then …in a flash he tips his head back and laughs. The Oswald laugh. Head tipped skyward, neck bent back, hands on hips, one leg tilted forward. A family trait shared by them all, and offered only sparingly. “Kitty, Kitty, Kitty.”

She steps forward, wraps and arm about his shoulders and squeezes. “I’ve brought you gifts you old bastard.”

“You got it all?” She nods. “Soup?” She nods. “Oysters?” She nods. “Chocolate.” Eye roll and a nod. When have I ever forgotten something. “And what about the wheels.”

She tilts her head back. “The owner won’t miss her. She’s got four others just like it.”

“What about her heart?”

She smiles. He means her engine. She took a look last night after stashing the car in an empty parking lot three blocks from her apartment. One hand on the warmth of the battery and she could tell just how young the model was. “Young,” she says. “Strong. Expensive.”

Maybe she should feel bad about stealing cars for her Uncle’s shop, but she doesn’t. Next month when she rolls in for her monthly visits he might have gutted the beauty and tossed her parts into many different cars scattered about the junkyard. He sees dollar signs in every part and she can rattle them off in her head with just as much ease. And yet, she’d much rather take her apart, get at her mechanics and then stich her back together. Uncle Otto would say that’s the city’s influence, making her soft. Or her father’s blood.

“Christmas in July.”

She nods, looking to her boots and the dirt below them. “I spoil you rotten.”

He guides her gaze back to him with a hand beneath the chin. “You ain’t still looking for him are you?”

“No.” But that’s a half-truth. The thing with having a mystery in the place of a parent is that you are always looking for them. Even when you’ve given up, even when you’ve put the puzzle pieces down they are still there. Here’s what she knows:

His initials are JO

He lives/lived in the city

He once snuck into Orion’s Observatory with her mother at midnight.

That’s not much to go on. When she first moved out and into the city she looked up every James O'Brien, Jeffrey Ocasto, and Joseph Owens in the phone books. Now the urge comes to her like a rising tide. She’ll look at some gentleman in uptown with a suit and top hat and think, is that him? It’s not. It never is. It never will be. But still …

“Or for her?”

She huffs under her breath. “She can be eaten by the Lachyrmose Leeches for all I care.”

[veryangryhedgehog]

The Major Arcana

An Ede Valley Story by Hedgehog. Video here: x

The Major Arcana

For the rest of Monday, Tommy wondered if what he’d seen had really been true. The gypsy wagon appearing out of nowhere, Remus and his fortune telling. He’d claimed that it was all psychology, but at the same time, he’d guessed Tommy’s secret within five minutes of meeting him. And he’d known his name. Tommy was 100% positive that he’d never told him that.

And other time he would have gotten out of there and never come back, any other person who’d done those things would have terrified him. But there was something very... honest about Remus, and Tommy found himself trusting him. He wasn’t a bad person, he could tell. Tommy knew bad people. There was a fine line between mysterious and creepy and Remus was so far away from that line that he’d have to pack a suitcase in order to reach it.

But more than that, Remus was simply cool. What he did was cool, and Tommy desperately wanted to know more. It would be dangerous. If he was caught and the teacher told his parents... he didn’t know what would happen. But Remus had offered to teach him more, and by golly he was going to learn.

So on Tuesday he waited by the fence again until the playground monitor was well out of sight, then crossed the street to the dusty, abandoned lot. The wagon was still parked smack dab in the middle of it, complete with jangly bells and faded sign. Tommy briefly wondered if he was the only one who could see it. Either that, or no one else really wanted to.

As soon as Tommy approached, Remus popped his head through the curtain in the back. “Ah, so you decided to come back, did you Tommy?” He grinned as he beckoned Tommy into the musty interior.

“How did you do that?” Tommy asked, sitting on the same stool he’d occupied yesterday.

“Do what?” Remus sat as well.

“Guess my name,” he insisted. “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Remus knocked himself on the head. “Oh, that’s right, you didn’t. Blast it! To tell you the truth,” his smile returned, “I’m mildly psychic.”

“Mildly psychic?” Tommy repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Remus reassured him. “I can’t move objects with my mind or anything, though that would certainly be helpful.” He laughed. “No, it’s simply that names and dispositions sometimes come to me with surprising accuracy.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Tommy huffed.

“How so?”

“You say it’s all about psychology and stuff,” Tommy explained. “But you’re cheating.”

Remus shook his head. “I think you’re overestimating me. My knack for names rarely comes into much use in fortune-telling. Most people get nervous if you know their names. In fact, sometimes it’s detrimental. Fortune telling is easiest when done completely blind. Let me show you.”

So Tommy listened, enraptured, until he heard the school bell ring from across the street. He almost didn’t want to leave, but Remus insisted that his education was important too. Of course, he barely paid attention the rest of the day anyway, instead attempting to ���read’ his classmates. Though as Remus said, it was a lot harder when he already knew them.

Wednesday went in much the same way. Tommy nearly bounced with impatience throughout the morning as he waited for recess, then almost got caught by the playground monitor on his way across the street. Remus decided to try something a little different that day. He pulled out a deck of cards, but they weren’t the kind that Tommy was familiar with: taller than normal ones, with ornate pictures depicting towers and priests.

“Tarot cards,” Remus called them. “We’ll only look at the Major Arcana today.” He went on to explain how each of them had different meanings, and that meanings changed depending on the order you drew them.

“But the meanings are all very vague,” he continued. “The trick is to interpret them in a way that makes your customer happy.”

“And it all comes back to psychology.” Tommy nodded.

“Exactly!”

And Tommy went home that afternoon with a new set of cards in his backpack and a smile. On the way past the third Starbucks, Tommy thought that it would be fun to stop and observe people. Remus had told him so much about it, and he really wanted to try it for himself, because as he said, it only really worked if you went in blind. So Tommy sat on a hard, wooden bench and watched the people going in and out of the Starbucks.

That women right there with the pantsuit was clearly worried about something, based on the scrunched look of her face. Maybe work? That man over there in the brightly pattern polo was meeting someone he wasn’t supposed to, since he kept glancing back and forth every other second.

On and on and on it went. When Tommy next looked up, the sky was dark. Oh no, he hadn’t kept track of the time. He stood, grabbing his backpack. This wasn’t good, he had to get home, before the sun completely went down. Tommy dashed the last few blocks and up the stairs to the apartment.

Just before he reached it, the door opened on its own, and Tommy froze until he saw that it was his mom. “Tommy,” her eyes were wide, “you’d better get in here before—“

“It that the boy?” His father asked from the living room. Tommy shuffled through the door, caught by the heavy odor of cigarette smoke. “Do you know what time it is?” His father sat forward in his armchair.

Tommy shook his head.

“Come here.” He gestured with the hand that held his cigarette.

“Dear, it’s not all that—” his mom took a step in front of Tommy, but stopped as baby Mikey began to cry in the next room. She hesitated, looking back and forth between Tommy and the bedroom. Then she winced, and rushed off to check on the baby.

“Come here, Thomas,” his father commanded.

He didn’t want to.

The next day he had a new burn on his arm. It stung, a constant reminder to never be home that late again. He couldn’t disobey father anymore. He was supposed to come home right after school and he had been gone an extra hour-and-a-half.

He almost didn’t go back to Remus’ wagon on Thursday. His father would have flipped his lid if he knew that Tommy was leaving school. But still it, and Remus and the calming smell of incense inside beckoned him back.

Though he tried to hide it, Remus of course noticed the new burn right away. “Would you like to talk about it?” He asked gently, sitting Tommy down.

“I don’t know...” Tommy looked down at the dusty floor, and Remus waited. “It’s my fault.” He blurted out suddenly. “I... I wanted to read people like you taught me, but I lost track of time an-and was late coming home and so dad... dad had to teach me a lesson.” He sniffed a little, a trail of snot running down his nose, but he didn’t cry.

“Tommy...” Remus shook his head. “This,” he pointed to the burn, “is not your fault at all. So maybe you were a little late—”

“An hour and a half,” Tommy corrected.

"It doesn't matter. There is never an excuse to hurt someone like this."

Tommy blinked. “There isn’t?” He croaked.

“No! Never.”

There was a moment of silence in the wagon, and then Tommy began to cry. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted someone to say that to him. “T-then why?” he asked through stuttering breaths. “Why does he do it?”

Remus wrapped his arms around him. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it.”

Sighing, Remus sat back, so that his face was level with Tommy’s. “I want to help you, Tommy. I was going to try to find another solution, but this is all I can think of.” He paused. “How would you like to come with me? Get away from here? You could be my... apprentice of sorts.”

“Come... with you?” Tommy asked. “But I barely know you!”

“I know, I know. That’s why I was trying to come up with something else. But I don’t have time to just leave you like this.” He stared back at the boy’s wide eyes. “You don’t have to put up with it. You can come with me. I’ll take you far away from here. I’ve been to places you can never imagine!”

“I’d love to, but—” Tommy paused. Going off with Remus sounded like a dream come true, but also like a dream, it sounded too good to be true. What if his father found him? What if Remus wasn’t who he seemed to be? But he was genuinely scared to go home. So many conflicting thoughts ran through his head. He did want to leave, wanted to get as far away as he could, but... “I can’t.”

Remus nodded, smiling sadly. “Ah yes. Of course. I understand.”

The bell rang, and Tommy began to back out of the wagon. “I... I’ve got to go.”

“If you change your mind, or if you just need someone to talk to,” Remus said, “I’ll be here.”

After school, Tommy went home as quickly as he dared, almost running. He didn’t want to, but he did it anyway. As soon as he entered the apartment, he snuck off to the bedroom that he and his sister Cindy shared. The air in the place was heavy, and though all reason said otherwise, Tommy was somehow sure that his father knew about the conversation he’d just had.

His room was small, and starkly yellow from the fluorescent light above. Cindy was sleeping on the bed, drool coming from the corner of her mouth. She’d better enjoy her easy life while it lasted, Tommy thought, she’d have to start Kindergarten next year.

Tommy put down his backpack, and stood in the door for a minute. He needed something to take his mind off of yesterday. Maybe... yeah. He dug through the backpack and grabbed out the pack of Tarot cards. First he separated the Major Arcana—the ones with the crazy names and pictures—from the Minor Arcana—the ones with suits and numbers—and set the latter aside. Remus hadn’t taught him about those yet.

It was a little hard, thinking about Remus and his offer, but also somehow comforting. Tommy himself could admit the strangeness of the whole thing, but his gut told him that Remus truly had his best interests at heart. And seeing him and learning about people and fortune telling were about the only things he looked forward to.

Just as he was laying out the Tarot cards and trying to remember all their meanings, Cindy lifted her head from the pillow. “Wha’re you doing?” she asked, rubbing her eye with a pudgy fist, the bunch of yarn and plastic beads she called her “good luck charm” tinkling slightly on her wrist.

“Practicing Tarot cards,” Tommy mumbled as he narrowed his eyes in concentration.

Cindy sat up, looking over his shoulder with interest. “Tara cards?”

“No, Tarot,” he corrected.

“What are those for?”

“They’re for telling the future.” Tommy gathered the cards from the floor and shuffled them clumsily. He winced as he accidentally bent one a little. “Here, let me show you.”

Tommy didn’t know what he was doing. They hadn’t gotten that far yet. But it was like Remus said. “If you look like you have all the answers, they’ll all believe you do.”

He drew a card from the top of the pile and laid on the carpet. “This is the Tower,” he said, relieved. That one was easy to remember, with its image of a monolith being struck by a flash of lightning. “It means hardship. 

“Another one!” Cindy demanded, enraptured.

The next card had an image of a woman feeding a goat. “Oh, this one is... is...” No! This was the one he kept forgetting. It wasn’t the Priestess, or the Empress, so it had to be... “Strength!” It finally came to him. “This one’s Strength. That meaning’s obvious. Let’s do one more.”

He drew one final card, and placed it besides the others. It had a picture of a marauding warrior being pulled in a cart. “Chariot,” Tommy said. “This one is the Chariot. It means change. So if we read the three of them together...” he pointed to the first card. “There’s hardship ahead, but if we’re strong,” the second card, “things will change,” and finally the Chariot.

Cindy’s eyes widened. “Whoa...” she said simply. “Do it again!”

But just as Tommy began to gather the cards together, their door opened abruptly. “What are you kids doing in—?” his father burst in without knocking, but stopped as he saw the Tarot cards. “What in God’s name is this?”

“N-nothing,” Tommy stuttered, trying to gather up the cards and hide them behind his back.

“I can see that it’s not nothing,” he snarled. “What do you think I am, an idiot?” The glow of the fluorescent light caught the surface of the strength card, and his father picked it up.

“Fortune cards? I thought I told you two to get your damned heads out of the clouds.” With little fanfare, he bent the card and tore it in half.

Tommy watched the two halves fluttered silently to the ground in a second that seemed to stretch out to forever. He didn’t take his eyes off of it even when his father growled: “Where did you get there?”

“I...” Tommy began, struggling. If he told his father about Remus, he could get him in huge trouble. And then he wouldn’t be able to see him again. He couldn’t tell, but if he didn’t...

“I asked you a question, boy!”

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. That’s right, he didn’t have to put up with this. Remus had told him that.

“No...” he said quietly.

His father paused. “What did you just say?”

“I... I said ‘no’.”

Turning beat-red, his father took a step into the room. “You ungrateful little shitheel. Do you know who I am? I am your father! Tell me!”

“No!” Tommy repeated, louder this time. “No, I won’t!”

“You will not disobey me.” In a flash, his father unbuckled his belt, and wrapped it around Tommy’s neck. He squeezed.

Tommy struggled. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get away. His father bared his teeth as spots danced across his vision. Self-preservation made him kick and squirm, but weakly. He couldn’t feel his limbs, and the world was darkening. Somewhere distantly, Cindy screamed.

“Robert!”

His father let go as he heard Tommy’s mother at the door. Tommy collapsed, wheezing and coughing. The next thing he remembered, his mother’s arms were around him, her tears hot on his forehead, and his father was gone. “I’m sorry, Tommy.” She sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She held him for a long time, and after she stopped crying, put him to bed. It was still early, but Tommy wouldn’t have been able to do anything else anyway. He just wanted to lose himself in the oblivion of sleep. His neck hurt. Even he was surprised by how calm he was. But all the while he lay in bed it all felt so distant. It had happened so fast; the only thing that made him sure it had been real was the pain in his neck every time he tried to cough.

Much later, he would be grateful for that distance, because instead of panicking and feeling scared, only one thought entered his mind: he needed to leave. He couldn’t stay here any longer. His fate had been sealed the moment he’d said ‘no’. If he didn’t leave now, his father would kill him.

Tommy waited, and waited, until he finally heard his parent’s bedroom door close for the last time. Slowly, he got up, grabbed his backpack from the ground, and began hastily stuffing clothes into it. He couldn’t tell exactly what he was grabbing in the dark, but he didn’t want to risk turning on the light, and it didn’t really matter anyway.

“What are you doing?” whispered a voice. Tommy looked up to see Cindy blinking down at him from the bed.

“I’m leaving,” he hissed out, unable to get his throat to work properly. He prayed that she wouldn’t cry or fight him. But she didn’t do either. She just stared and nodded, like she had known it longer than he had.

After digging through the pile of blankets and pillows, Cindy held up her good luck charm. “Promise you’ll come back.” It was not a request.

“I promise,” Tommy smiled, taking the charm from her and slipping it around his wrist. He hoisted the backpack over his shoulder and quietly as he could, opened the bedroom door. Cindy didn’t take her eyes off of him until he was almost gone.

“Bye Tommy.”

He waved, and shut the door behind him.

Slowly, carefully, he snuck across the carpeted floor of the front room, grabbed the handle to the door, and turned. With baited breath he opened it, and when he heard nothing from the house, he ran. Down the stairs of the apartment complex, through the parking lot, and out onto the rain-soaked street. Before long, he was soaked to the bone, and his throat ached.

He kept running.

Past the Starbucks, across the street—he almost got hit by a car—and finally, the chain-link fence of the school came into view. And there, in the abandoned lot, caught in the glow of the Dollar Tree, was the wagon. A part of him had needlessly worried that it would be gone, just like it had appeared almost a week ago.

But there it was. Tommy ran to it, pulled open the flap. “Remus,” he pushed, but almost no sound came out.

“Who’s there?” the man emerged from a nest of blankets at the back of the wagon. “Tommy? Is that you?” he asked as he peered through the darkness.

“Help.” Tommy tried again, but only produced air.

Remus grabbed an electric lantern and clicked it on, shining it in Tommy’s direction. “What’s going—?” He began, but stopped as his eyes fell on Tommy’s neck. “God.”

“I...” Tommy cleared his throat, not that it helped. “I need to go somewhere safe.”

Nodding, Remus stood. “Of course.” He patted the side of the wagon. “You heard the lad, Mathilda. It’s time to go.”

“The wagon has a name?” There! He got a little out that time.

“Mathilda has... a mind of her own, you could say.” Remus nodded. “She takes me where I need to be.”

“Where are we going?” Tommy asked as a strange wind began to blow around them.

Chuckling, Remus smiled. “That’s the beauty of it: I don’t know!”

“What?”

“Here we go!” Remus shouted over the rising gale.

Tommy closed his eyes, and when he opened them next, they were someplace new. A soft, green light flooded through the entrance to the wagon. Remus peaked his head out of the flap. “Ah, Mathilda, you genius.” He grinned. “This is perfect!”

Blinking in the sudden light, Tommy looked too. Outside, the wagon was now surrounded by trees. But not just ordinary trees. They towered up hundreds of feet into the air, and their trunks were thick as houses.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“This is the forest of H’thalee.” Remus hopped out of the wagon, and offered a hand to Tommy. He took it, following behind. “I’ve been here before, helped the Geftil Tribe with an awful pusmumps epidemic about a year ago. They’re a very wise people, I’m sure they’ll have you all fixed up in a jiffy.”

“H...H’thalee?” Tommy stuttered. “I’ve never heard of that.”

Remus smiled. “Ah, that’s because I’ve taken you about as far away as I can manage. This place isn’t on your world, it’s someplace... different.”

“Like another dimension?”

“Exactly!” Remus nodded. “And there’s millions of different places out there! Things you can’t even imagine!”

Despite the clenching fear in his gut, Tommy felt himself smiling as his eyes grew wide. “That sounds... amazing! And... and I can really come with you?”

“Of course, my boy.” Remus grinned broadly, patting him on the head. “You’re my apprentice now, after all.”

[myselfinserts]

“You’re trying my patience.”

I never had a family. At least, not the way that most other kids my age have them. 

I grew up with a lot of other kids in a giant school in the US a long time ago. I don’t remember my parents, having been barely a few days old when I was left there. The teachers never told me what happened to them. They instead focused on raising me until other family could be located. 

They hoped that someone, anyone, would eventually come for me. 

They gave me a name. ‘Suellen’, they called me. One of the teachers called me Sue. Another Ellie. But I didn’t like either. Suellen sounded better. And Nursie, the teacher in charge of me, said it meant ‘lily’, like the lilies that grew in the garden. I always smiled when Nursie told me that. I liked being compared to her flowers. 

When I turned five, they took me to a doctor. The doctor told me that if I didn’t manifest signs of a quirk by the end of the year, it would most likely mean I have no powers. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t like I needed them to be happy. All I needed was Nursie and my flowers. Maybe even Nursie could adopt me.

But sadly, that didn’t happen.

Nursie became very ill, and was eventually no longer there. By the time I was six and a half, I’d shown signs of a quirk, but no one really got it. My head would hurt, I’d scream, and then a bright flash of light would erupted from my stare. I was isolated, scared, and the only person I trusted was taken away. 

That is, until I met my brother. 

Simon Einion. Overall, he seemed like a good person at first. He said he’d been looking for me for so long, and didn’t stop looking even when it seemed hopeless. When he heard the name they gave me, he smiled and said it didn’t seem right for me. But I insisted that it was my name. He accepted it, and accepted me into the family. 

Though it was only as long as I followed the rules; No leaving home ever, unless he was with me. No going into his office. And no talking to strangers. 

We returned to his home, nearly two states over from my school. It was an old warehouse that had been converted into an elaborate house. There were rooms upon rooms, a library, a kitchen. It wasn’t good, not by a long shot. At most, it was stable enough so that one could live there, but leave if the need arose. And it smelled horrible. I got sick often.

It made me miss Nursie so badly. 

But it wasn’t all bad. I had a good bed, lots of toys, and my brother would read to me every night. Always fairytales. He taught me how to use my quirk too. As it turned out, it wasn’t just light that I emitted. My quirk mirrored his. Literally. 

‘Mirrored Eyes’ allowed him to put people’s minds into mirrors. Me, on the other hand, could remove them. We would practice every day. He’d have one of his friends go into a mirror, and I’d get them out. We practiced this so much. I got really good at it and soon the headaches stopped. By the time I was ten, I was a master at it. He also taught me ‘survival skills’. I learned how to steal wallets, make a camp fire, run from danger, pitch a tent, and sneak food for the hungry from grocery stores. 

I got really good at learning to take care of myself.

One night, however, my brother and his friends left me all alone at the warehouse. I was bored, having finished reading Moby Dick and craving another adventure on the ocean waves. I knew my brother kept the key to the library in his office. 

So I decided to break the rules. 

It didn’t take me long to learn why my brother had the rules in place that he did. 

In his office was a door. It lead to the second biggest room in the building. It was the ‘trophy room’ as my brother had called it. In it were mirrors upon mirrors. Some big, some small. None bigger than what could be carried in a purse. Ornate, simple, older, newer. It was a hodgepodge of glass.

And every glass had a face. Every mirror had a voice. One of whom was a friend my brother used to have in the earlier days. His name was Elmer, and he was scared. He said I had to help the others escape. 

He told me everything. How my brother wasn’t the nice man I thought he was. Simon was a monster who took pleasure extorting others for his own gain. Those who couldn’t pay, those who crossed him, those who stood in his way. All of them were locked in mirrors. It wasn’t just innocent civilians either. There were some Heroes as well. And fellow Villains. 

Many of them asked me for help. Elmer said not all of them would be able to return home. My brother made a point of ‘disposing’ of bodies when he could. It was hard though, because he couldn’t risk leaving a trail of the dead everywhere. A trail of the catatonic however, were less suspicious, so as a result, most of the victims were safe. Elmer promised that if I were to help everyone, if I were to get as many of them back to their bodies, he would take care of me and get me away from my brother. 

So I decided to help.

The next night my brother left, I grabbed my backpack and packed as many essentials as I could. I got my suitcase, a dainty little carry on sized piece, went to the trophy room, and filled it with as many mirrors as I could. It was near bursting. I can’t remember how many of them there were. I think I took only half of the collection, but there were so many back then I can’t really remember. Chances are there were more left behind.

I didn’t exactly have time to count and make sure I had everyone. 

“Please step away from the mirrors, Suellen.”

I remember my brother’s face. How unkind and cold it looked staring back at me from behind his sunglasses. In his hand, he held Elmer’s mirror. 

“Don’t hurt him,” I whimpered. 

“Then step away from the other mirrors.”

“Don’t do it, Suellen!” Elmer screamed. “Take them and run!”

Simon had glared at him. “You’re trying my patience, old friend.”

I saw his hand tightening around the glass. I didn’t even think. I ran at my brother and smacked him with the suitcase, causing him to drop Elmer. I caught the mirror quickly and bolted out the door. I could hear my brother screaming for the others to catch me. 

But I ran. 

I kept running. 

I was good at running. 

The sky resembled glass above me. I bolted from the warehouse and down the street toward the train station. I managed to get lost in the crowd, quickly assessing my options. I couldn’t get on a passenger train. If I did, my brother could track me down. But he might suspect I’d take one of the cargo freighters.

So I compromised and snuck into a luggage car. I made myself small, hid among the large parcels and packages and cases. I took out Elmer’s mirror and inspected it. A single crack along the side, but otherwise unharmed. Elmer had gained his own cut over his eyebrow as a result of the crack. 

I knew from then on I had to be careful. 

From that day on, I became a vagrant. Elmer helped me travel all across America looking for the bodies of the missing people. Most of them we found. None of them were healthy enough to help me. Some were physically too weak, others had been mentally and emotionally broken from the stress of being locked behind glass. Despite helping them, most of these people couldn’t bear to even look at me and my Mirrored Eyes. 

Eventually my travels took me outside of the US. We went to Mexico, Canada, even some places in eastern Europe. Many a time we had a close call, nearly being recaptured. But every time I managed to escape.

There were some cases where we couldn’t find a body. A man named Kent asked me to leave his mirror on the tombstone where his family had him buried. Another person, a woman named Sophia, asked that I leave her on a ship so that she may see the world, saying this was more freedom than she’d ever known in life. I last saw her being picked up by a sea captain and being placed near the helm. 

When it came time to find Elmer’s body, he told me he didn’t have one anymore. Apparently, he knew my brother ‘took care of it personally’, but didn’t have the heart to tell me. We went to a few hospitals and looked around. He wanted to test my power and he had me find a body that was declared brain dead and about to be pulled off support. We found one, a young man nearly the same age as my brother. He’d gotten into an accident working at a construction sight and had no family other than an ex-fiance. Elmer asked to try and put me into this body. 

And by some miracle, it worked. 

Elmer woke up in the man’s body, smiling and giving me a pat on the head. He promised to help me with the rest, but I told him no. He was weak from the transfer, and this body was in too critical of condition. He’d need to heal up. And we couldn’t risk being seen together. All the others probably went into protection or moved away. Changed names. If Elmer stayed with me, my brother would surely kill him. 

We parted ways after that. I haven’t seen Elmer since. 

I continued my travels, eventually bonding with a strange man in a mirror who had no memory of himself. All he knew was he was last in Japan. As we made our way in that direction, I came to see this man as my new Elmer. Not that anyone could replace him, no. But this mirror became my support. Kept me from breaking. 

We would find everyone. No matter how long it took.

“Suellen! Suellen wake up!”

Suellen blinked awake slowly. Her head ached terribly and she felt shaken. Her heart felt shattered like a mirror. Shakily, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the compact. For a moment, she saw herself. Tired, weak, alone. 

“Michael?” she groaned. 

Michael’s image appeared in her stead, smiling with relief. “You’re okay! Thank god. You passed out and I thought-” he shook his head “-It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Suellen managed a smile, but she wasn’t feeling any happiness. She still had th guilt. The anger. The fear. 

“I did something really bad,” she muttered.

“It was an accident,” Michael assured. “I’m sure that you’ll be able to fix it.”

“I hope so...”

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S LEAD VOCAL KIM RAEYOON...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Remy CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Music production

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): 

rae-ja (來子): based on his tendency to drop unexpected wisdom bombs, give out unsolicited advice, and implement idioms/sajaseong-eo into his everyday vernacular. the nickname plays off ancient chinese philsophers such as confucius (孔子), mencius (孟子), and latozu (老子). (origin: indigo members)

kim huhuhat (김후후핫): based on his distinctive laugh, which almost always begins with inaudible giggling before eventually bursting into sharp, head-thrown laughter. (origin: fans)

shark (상어): based on physical attributes (origin: fans)

INSPIRATION: his mother park jinsook, a once-aspiring folk singer SPECIAL TALENTS:

impressions of female celebrities (the older the celebrity, the better)

reading with exaggerated emotion

tongue twisters

NOTABLE FACTS:

spent a large chunk of his childhood in lausanne, switzerland

hiccups when eating spicy foods (update: it seems he has cured this issue)

cannot hold his liquor and has the worst tolerance of all the indigo members

it’s rumored that he comes from a wealthy family (the truth: they’re comfortable)

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

improve songwriting skills. win msg’s trust so they hand over more jurisdiction—at least as far as his group’s music and concept trajectory is concerned. bring back the electronic bullshit (but maybe not the dubstep). if growing up in eurotrash switzerland has taught him anything it’s the beauty of electronic done right. make the fusion of electronic, r&b, and ballad a sound to be reckoned with. encourage the other members to participate in defining the group’s creative direction.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

produce more songs for other groups in the company. transition into more behind the scenes work. occupy a senior enough role in music production to participate in executive level decision-making at msg. help steer future generations of idols in the right direction—he knows what it’s like to be mismanaged and would hate for others to experience the same disenchantment that plagued him and the rest of his bandmates for so long. continue to build upon indigo’s foundations to ensure longevity. knows that maybe his goals are idealistic (outward) and restricting (inward), but there simply aren’t any other career options he’d be willing to explore.

IDOL IMAGE

remy bursts onto the scene of winter 2014 with bad boy debonair, mischievous nonchalance, and a penchant for flirtation. play off the strengths and weaknesses of your members, had been their furtive recommendation. here’s the earnest one, the sensitive one, the diligent one, the ethereal one, and now you. you’re sharp edges, a cut and cruel face, thin mouth that only knows how to grin crooked, and tapered eyes whose surest weapon is their wink. hone your artillery, make it yours, and if you can, make them scream.

remy’s never been one for violent metaphors but he runs with this one because his passion outweighs everything else. for the first few years it gets the better of him and he feels some dissonance, has a hard time believing any of what he’s bringing to the stage is coming from anywhere real because of course it isn’t. but in time he learns that this too is part of the art of performance, and that there’s nothing disingenuous about what he’s doing so long as he can differentiate his two egos of what could never be and what actually is. when the music stops so does the charade and this is how he will retain his authenticity.

the public learn the ins and outs of remy, too; the few who care at all take whatever crumbs and scraps they can find, one scattered comeback at a time, to build a more nuanced portrait and uncover the person behind the persona. for the most part their findings are accurate and positive. remy is methodical, prefers to take things a little bit at a time. but is there a reason he takes forever to make a decision? it’s only dessert. it’s called being considerate. his head is in the cloud sometimes, but he’s always thoughtful. must read a lot too, he’s always quoting stuff i’ve never heard of. pretty sure that’s his way of showing off the fact he used to study in europe, never liked elites like him. the only bravado he shows is onstage, not sure what you’re talking about. he’s surprisingly demure behind the scenes. i’ve never seen him cry, not even once. you sure he’s not some kind of robot? i’d pay good money to see a robot with a laugh that cute. weird. i think you mean his laugh is weird.

his reputation—whichever unassembled pieces exist in phone cameras, group chats, morning catchup by the office water cooler—follows remy straight into re᛫group, where he thereupon establishes himself as the show’s sage, a calm meditative tide. the contrasting snarl and bite of his performance style still persists, but the sex appeal stops there. he’s not controversial, not cutthroat enough to propel himself to viral fame. but his character and up-until-this-point unseen predilection for music win him the respect of fellow competitors and the sincere affections of weekly viewers. it’s more than he could possibly ask for.

with indigo’s triumphant return to the industry, remy repays fans old and new by trying his hand at songwriting. building off of the momentum from re᛫group and recognizing the group’s need for growth, msg embraces a brand shift, letting him produce the track for their next comeback. the move effectively solidifies and tacks on a new identity for him as a producer for the group; he acquiesces to the role with ease, and to rave reception. indigo’s reaffirmation in society comes with the affirmative understanding for all of the members that donning their faces, old and new, they’re in it for the long haul.

IDOL HISTORY

a: at five, he is petulant. more than the average five-year-old should be, but who can blame the kid when he feels how jarringly out of place he is in this country and continent, but doesn’t have the vocabulary to express any of it. and so raeyoon prefers to spend his time indoors, in front of the television and away from prying eyes, watching documentaries and music broadcasts he never quite comprehends but thinks he likes the sound of. mother, ever observant from the kitchen, keeps a watchful eye.

b: prideful, not passionate. pride is what keeps him enrolled in piano lessons but keeps him from realizing his potential. his mother sits with him through every practice session, guiding him with an iron will and berating him with an immovable ear. she calls him a technician and so do the judges, but he plays a showstopper in basel and a sonata in bern anyways because people have programs to fill and don’t expect full emotional maturation from a ten year-old. that summer when he takes the train to summer camp abroad—but then, what isn’t abroad at this point—raeyoon distantly wonders where he’s headed.

c: hundreds of miles from home, raeyoon is suddenly compelled to take to the stack of cds that father snuck into his suitcase months ago without ever citing a reason. the cds themselves are bare. the cases in which they are contained are bare save for a rough tracklist penned in permanent marker. the music that he hears isn’t anything familiar. but the voice he hears most certainly is.

d: he passes his audition.

he had gone on a whim. while out shopping for beef bones with grandmother one morning someone had approached him with a business card and while stewing the beef bones back in her apartment he’d asked grandmother to accompany him. he doesn’t remember anything about it beyond a panel of faceless men and his mother’s voice reverberating like a dream in the caverns of his head.

it was never supposed to be this consequential and yet it is, yet here he is feeling the mostsomething he’s felt in his five-thousand-eight-hundred-eight-eight-day life. the news hits him like a brick and his head drops onto the table. grandmother pries the phone away from his hands and dials in another number. with his head still down and eyes closed raeyoon hears her shuffle into the kitchen, open the pot, and plate up the last serving of oxtail soup. he hears the line click on the other end. and then he hears her voice again, so familiar and sweet and real.

e: he blends in here. he laughs thinking back to a decade ago when he’d stood out so sorely, and how that’s exactly what he needs now if he wants a good shot at this. for the next three years, he sharpens himself to the finest point possible.

f: it’s called face. face in the crowd, facing the music, saving face. it’s a word loaded with meanings and potentialities and it feels so wholly appropriate raeyoon almost cries but doesn’t, not yet. he runs through the showcase introduction, performance, final ments. thanks everyone for coming out to support their debut. when the spotlight dims down and the mass of bodies begins to file out of the venue, he spots his mother lingering in the audience, a face in the crowd. raeyoon swallows the lump in his throat. not yet.

g: during rehearsal at a hundred-person venue in gwangju city, a standing light crashes and raeyoon sustains a small injury to his right pinky. no big deal, he tells everyone, it’s not like he’s using it for much anymore anyways, and the appendage is wrapped in gauze and rehearsal continues like clockwork.

he doesn’t notice until a year later, when it’s much too late for buddy tape and a brace, that his pinky never quite recovered right. he opens up a dusty book of liszt arpeggios wondering if maybe now is the time to leverage that skillset, if maybe now he can demonstrate something beyond the technical prowess of his childhood, and fumbles like a clown on the keys. looking down, his pinky tells him the whole story. the first knuckle juts outward and askew with the rest of the finger, like a soul separating from its host.

he thinks back to the past year, and even the year before that, and draws a funny picture not unlike the analogy. it’s not just the finger. negligence is rampant. looking the other way and pretending not to notice everything that’s gone wrong, and everything that could possibly go wrong. what were the meds for, again? chronic pain, allergies, or just insomnia? he forgets. forgets most things, like his pinky finger, like the fact he hasn’t called home in weeks out of shame, and forgets that crying was even an option even though these days he’s got all the time in the world.

h: his saving grace descends in the form of a reality show that sweeps the country and his group by storm. it’s in between mandatory diary entries, the relentless gaze of the camera, stress and sleep deprivation, public defamation, and the thrill of a new stage—another day—that sets raeyoon alight again.

on the last night: a sea of faceless, wailing bodies under the stage, let’s debut, and his mother’s song ringing in his ears. he feels the bodies beside him leave one at a time to claim their spot on the podium, rank five, four, three. he’s tired, hungry, and smiling brighter. two. a rock tied by string. and one. his vision blurs, wet, and opaque. the lump in his throat swells, and he throws his head back to blink away the tears. not yet, not yet.

i: his first hand at production, a first win for the group, and a first concert after five years. it’s nothing short of a miracle, and their story is one that resonates somewhere deep. though revitalized, raeyoon doesn’t hunger for much anymore. but even five years in and with the tides swaying in their favor, he knows better to submit to complacency—scoffs at even the suggestion. with the attention on them—actually, legitimately on them now—the stakes are higher than ever, and he’s simply too grateful to do anything but deliver.