#they would laugh about it. brag about their evil schemes right in front of them

[sankttealeaf]

writing up gortash tadpoling his parents and i had to stop because perhaps i'm projecting a little on the way he talks & treats his mother in this scenario where he has full control over the situation. whats fanfic writing if not free therapy?

im not sure if i should... fade this encounter to black or dig deep in the pits of my mind and realllly go deep into this. hm.

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 5

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link! , Chapter 2 Link! , Chapter 3 Link! , Chapter 4 Link!

Summary: There’s nothing that brings opposing sides together like a mutual enemy, though who that enemy is...

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Author’s Note: I wanted to take a short break after THE SPECIAL to retool, replan, and rewrite some stuff in the next few chapters and make sure they would fit with what I have already posted, as well as wait for the last episode to be subbed so I could double check what I had in this chapter before posting. This fic is already canon divergent (and now a full on AU) so that helped a lot. All you need to know now is that in SFAUT another year is added in the timeline and 1 New Year has already passed. I will provide spoiler warnings for any chapter in the future since some stuff in the special will be relevant to this fic now. (There are none in this one! No Spoilers Inside!)

Chapter 5: Gladly, your journey ends here with me

“Come on, come on Jin... Ah ha!” Yin let out a triumphant yell as the two Calabashes finally connected remotely, one hidden tucked away where their now unwanted business partner hopefully couldn’t find it, and he quickly closed out and hid all the windows he could on the computers that would give away their plan. It was a long shot... but hopefully this would work. He just had to trust that his elder could handle this on his own.

----------

“You weren’t kidding when you said everything smelled dull,” Mei said with a frown. They were walking around the city looking for anything that could possibly help them get out of here. So far no luck, everything appeared to just be as normal as normal could possibly be. MK had even tried breaking something with his staff on “accident” and only got a slightly angry but forgiving shopkeeper once he paid for the broke table out of it. “Now that I’m really paying attention to it I can’t help but notice it.”

“It’s bizarre,” Red Son chimed in with a growl, true frustration having long since started to bloom in his expression. “Nothing’s happened! No one is attacking us, no one is trying to make everything perfect. It’s just... Normal!” The last word was screeched out, his hair flaming up before he took a breath and calmed back down. “I don’t think this is Jin and Yin anymore. It’s too different from what you described to us.”

Despite not wanting to, MK couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “I think you’re right... this has to be a Calabash, I’m sure of it! But unless they got really good at making more than two step plans really quickly, someone must be helping them.”

Though who that could possibly be they had no clue. As far as the three of them knew the Gold and Silver Demons weren’t really affiliated with anyone specifically. They seemed to run around doing their own thing for the most part.

“There’s got to be some kind of clue around here about how to get out, nothing technological is perfect!” Mei chimed up with a wide smile. “Who knows, maybe the solution will just hit us when we least expect i-”

“WATCH OUT!”

The trio jumped in surprise at the yell, voice familiar but sounding just off enough to startle them. They looked up as a cloud barreled down and ducked right before it flew right into an alley behind them, a series of yelps and crashes and curses being let out by whoever had hitched a ride on it.

“God bloody damn it how does he even fly this stupid thing?” They heard from inside, and they all carefully stepped into the alleyway. MK pulled out his staff, Mei her sword, and Red Son lit his hands on fire in preparation.

“UH...” MK lowered his staff just a bit when he caught sight of the figure in front of them, turned away from them and brushing dust and dirt off his clothes with his tail swiping madly at the air like he didn’t exactly know what to do with it. “M-Monkey King?”

“Monkey King” tensed, turning quickly with an uncharacteristic look of surprise and... fear? Fear on his face. “Uh... you’re sorta right, MK.”

“Ok, you are definitely not Monkey King, he NEVER calls me MK and he definitely does not have an accent like that,” MK said as he raised his staff back up with a raised brow. “And you are definitely not the fake Monkey King we just left who did call me Bud and Kid instead. Who the hell are you!?”

The new fake Monkey King raised his hands in a sign of surrender, laughing awkwardly. “Whoa, whoa! No need to attack, I’m here to help you! Surprised you don’t recognize me already, do we really sound that much alike?”

“Wait a- JIN!?” “THAT’S Jin?” “But how?” MK, Red Son, and Mei all shouted one right after the other, looking between the Jin-Turned-Monkey-King and each other.

“Change back!” MK shouted, extended his staff just enough to poke Jin in the chest. “Stop looking like that right now!”

“I can’t,” Jin sighed out, taking a step back and away from the staff jutting into his rib cage. “I mean, I can if I try for a minute, but it’s not safe! I need to be disguised and apparently using this digital form already made up with your info this is the best disguise the program decided for me.”

“AH HA I was right this is a Calabash!” MK shouted in victory before realizing this just confirmed what they had already agreed to. “Ahem... OK... why do you need to be disguised? And why did you say you were here to help us? Isn’t this one of your plans?”

Jin winced at the questions and looked away, rubbing one of his arms. It looked... bizarre and wrong to see on the Sun Wukong’s face. Sure, MK had seen the ancient being look vulnerable before but it was never anything like this. “Yin and I were... tricked into helping someone we shouldn’t have. She’s got control of everything right now, except an extra Calabash Yin has me in that I’m remotely connected to you from. I can help you get out of here if you just trust me for a bit.”

“Oh, like we’re just going to trust you like that!” Mei growled, taking a step closer. “How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick? That this isn’t part of your plan?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna admit that me and Yin aren’t really that good at plans,” Jin deadpanned with a frown. “I mean, we’re pretty smart! We made an entire virtual reality system that can hold multiple people shrunk down with magic and replicate anything from their own memories after all! But we��re not really good at more than 2 step evil plans.”

“He has a point,” Red Son interjected. “We fought them 2 months ago and even then their plan was ‘take control of the city water supply, fight Monkie Kid’. They didn’t have a plan aside from just... holding the water and hoping they’d win.”

“See, bad at plans!” Jin pipped up with a wide awkward smile, and that felt more natural if a little exaggerated to see. “But! We’re good at tech, and the problem here is tech we personally made. So I can help you!”

“Again, why though?” MK asked, lowering his staff cautiously. “Why help us? Wouldn’t whoever you’re working for getting rid of us be good for you?”

Jin frowned again, looking down at his (Sun Wukong’s) hands. “... It was my idea. A week or so ago... A woman came by asking for a job, told us to just call her Vapor, learned real quick that wasn’t her name after she dropped her disguise... We needed the extra cash to fill a tech order for another demon and it sounded easy enough. Make a Calabash convincing enough to trick the Monkie Kid’s senses so that he couldn’t get out from the inside. And it was easy, we already had everything being worked on ourselves! But then...” He scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away. “She started to want to get all three of ya. Started talking about wanting it to be ‘worse for him, more painful’. We didn’t know what she was talkin about, but we knew from context clues that whoever ‘him’ was wasn’t you.”

MK let his staff down entirely but didn’t put it away, earning odd looks from Mei and Red Son. He shook his head, gesturing to Jin and then their weapons to urge them to stand down for the moment.

“Then she started to get frustrated,” Jin continued. “She pushed us to work harder, faster, and when we tried to cut off the deal she... she pulled out this kind of smoking pipe and I don’t know what the hell she has in it but that stuff knocked us out harder than any drink ever did. When we woke up we were... stuck.”

“Stuck?” MK asked. “Wait, you work for other demons?”

“Yeah yeah, we make tech for other demons, that ain’t the point right now!” Jin cleared his throat, continuing his explanation. “She had some kind of... of sealin charm on the building. No demons gettin in, no demons gettin out. ‘cept for her, she’s got some kinda charm around her neck that lets her leave whenever she wants. We’ve been stuck in our little hidden HQ ever since and whenever we get too rowdy or annoying she just puts us to sleep again. I don’t know how much more of that we can breathe in before it starts to actually hurt us, and whatever she has planned wasn’t for you. You’re just some kinda-a pawn. To hurt someone else. That’s why I want to help you, she’s hurtin my brother and as much as we want to take you down the Gold and Silver Demons will not be used as pawns in other’s schemes.”

“So it’s a pride thing,” Red Son said as he crossed his arms. “You’re helping us because this Vapor woman hurt your pride.”

“Yeah, and what of it?” Jin crossed his arms in turn, glaring at the fire demon. “Need a better reason or do you not want my help?”

“We want your help!” MK jumped in with a sigh. “Any help, even help from pride alone, is probably needed right now.”

“Great!” Jin smiled wide again, and the quickly changing expressions he was showcasing on the Monkey King’s face were starting to give the trio tonal whiplash. “Should be simple enough, she’s out and about right now so all we gotta do is get to a little something Yin and I added in while she wasn’t looking before she gets back.” He smirked, prideful and eager to brag. “An emergency access hub. Didn’t have time to program it to pop up on command, but once we get to our hidden HQ we can access it and force this Calabash to just spit us out! You probably could have found it yourselves... eventually...”

“That’s... surprisingly easy and simple,” Mei said, but smiled after a moment. “But worth a shot I guess. If you’re lying we can just kick your butt and get out of here the old fashioned way!”

This caused Jin to laugh nervously again, raising his hands up. “No lying, promise! Just follow me-EAGH!” When he took a step he stumbled, righting himself as he flailed his arms and sighed. “Stupid tail, how do you balance with this thing?” He took another careful step, then another, and after a moment he just grabbed his tail and yelped at the sensation and wrapped it around his wrist before walking normally. “This is bloody weird.”

“I’ll say...” MK muttered as he watched Jin step out of the alley and wave his free hand, the air in front of him glitching in a familiar way before a digital floating map rested before him. “... ok, that’s kinda cool.”

Jin paused, looking back at them with a bit of a flushed tint on Monkey King’s ears. “Uh... thanks? Just follow me, this will tell us if anything pings the system to alert it that I’m here or she comes back.”

They followed Jin for a moment, fake people staring at the full form of Sun Wukong in awe. The same way MK and the others would have expected them to in real life.

“Wait, hold on!” Mei piped up after a moment. “You said you found out Vapor wasn’t this mystery woman’s name, but you never told us who she was! What’s her real name, maybe we already know who she is!”

“Yeah, if we know who she is we can plan on how to kick her ass!” MK agreed.

Jin shook his head. “I don’t know if even you three can fight her at this point, she’s strong. Way stronger than I already knew she could have gotten over the years. You’re gonna need more than a little help to take her down.” He turned to Red Son.

“What?” Red Son questioned, tips of his hair sparking as he tensed in confusion and worry. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because Vapor was-AAAAAHHHHH!”

And Jin fell to the ground screaming.

----------

“And to what do we owe the.... honor of your visit,” The Demon Bull King growled lowly, arms raised slightly at his sides as Princess Iron Fan stood on his shoulder. Her own glare was even more formidable than her husband’s.

“Brother Ox,” Sun Wukong greeted as he bowed in respect. “I-”

“We stopped being brothers in name long ago, Sun Wukong,” DBK growled low again. “Now state your business here before I lose my patience and we continue our last fight.”

“I’m surprised we aren’t already fighting...” Pigsy whispered to Tang. “This is weird...”

And Pigsy was right, the situation was weird. They had snuck in, Wukong ready to fight and get them out of there if things had gotten out of hand. Instead, they were greeted with a very annoyed but subdued Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan who looked ready and willing to murder all of them if given half an excuse... but for some reason were holding themselves back.

“Demon Bull King,” Wukong corrected himself with a small frown, holding his bow for an extra moment before straightening himself. “I have come to ask for a temporary truce... and your help.”

DBK grit his teeth, leaning down until he was nearly nose to nose with the Monkey King, PIF holding onto his horn on her side to remain stable. “And what makes you think I would ever agree to that?”

“The reason I am asking for it,” Wukong continued, not even reacting to the snorted breath in his face. “MK, Mei, and your son were supposed to join me on Flower Fruit Mountain this morning. We... have not been able to find them.”

This immediately got both parents attention, DBK narrowing his gaze dangerously as he stood up straight so fast PIF had to hold on tighter to not fall off. “What are you implying?”

“MK, Mei, and Red Son are missing. We want your help to find them.”

[renaerys]

17. “Come here. Let me fix it.” (Mojo & Brick)

{{Original posting unfortunately deleted. Reposted here.}}

February Fic Prompt #17 originally requested by Anon. Sort of a Brick origin story. Against my better judgment, he is kind of cute as a 7-year-old. Mojo is the best evil dad. :’)

xxx

“Ouch!”

Brick shook out his throbbing thumb where he’d smashed it with a hammer. The hammer was bent out of shape and worthless now courtesy of his Super strength, but man that had really hurt. A sudden an apoplectic rage overcame him and he kicked the toy plane clear across the workshop, where it smashed into a prototype Robo Jojo and broke even more than it already was.

He instantly regretted losing his temper and flew to retrieve the toy plane, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t made it worse. The wing was bent and twisted where she’d gotten her grimy, girly hands on it, but to Brick’s utter dismay, he’d cracked the cockpit.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair, least of all her. Just because he didn’t want to share his toy didn’t make it wrong! It was his toy, not Mike’s, and she had no business taking it from him and ruining everything.

Brick squeezed his eyes shut. He could still hear the laughter of the other kids. Laughing at him. This sucked, and she sucked worst of all. He wasn’t lying when he said it was his toy, but she went and broke it anyway and it wasn’t fair.

“Please tell me you did not break into my laboratory without my permission, which is required to enter this laboratory because it is mine and not yours, just to cry all alone.”

Brick shot up and found Mojo Jojo standing near the stairs to the observatory, gloved paws clasped behind his back like some cold scientist observing his test subject’s abnormal behavior to catalogue for further study. Brick glared up at him and hid his broken plane behind his back.

“I wasn’t crying!” he snapped, blinking fast to make the tears disappear before Mojo could see them.

Mojo narrowed his beady eyes and strolled deeper into the lab. Brick was no sissy and he had powers, so he stood his ground until Mojo stopped right in front of him. He looked down on Brick as though he was nothing but dirt under his shoe, like he always did ever since Brick and his brothers had started spending weekends and some holidays with Him. Fine, whatever, he would leave since this place was stupid and the whole idea was stupid and—

“Let me see it.” Mojo held out his hand and waited.

Brick sniffled. “What?”

“The item which you are concealing behind your back. Very poorly, I must say. You have not mastered the art of hiding guns and blasters and other such large and unexpected tools of destruction behind your back as I, Mojo Jojo, have.”

Brick took a step back and glared up at Mojo. “No, it’s mine and you can’t have it!”

“Oh puh-lease. As if I have any interest in taking it from you without your consent, which of course I do not. I am evil, not cruel.”

Brick hesitated. This sounded like a trap. Mojo was probably pretty steamed that he’d broken in here, so who was to say he wasn’t lying and would just take the plane away permanently?

Mojo sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Listen boy, I have had a veeeeeery long day drafting my newest super secret plans to destroy my arch nemeses and all-around pains in my behind, the Powerpuff Girls, and I simply want to enjoy my afternoon tea in peace and quiet peacefully. So, unless you want to be my guinea pig for the new Antidote X Heat-Seeking Laser I am secretly building, which you are not allowed to speak of since it is a secret, then I suggest you—”

“Ugh, all right! Just put a sock in it already, geez.” Brick revealed the beat-up toy plane clutched in his hands, anything to get the long-winded monkey to stop his stupid rambling about his dumb inventions Brick didn’t even care about. He glared at the floor, upset and sad and a little ashamed that he’d been caught.

“Who is responsible for this?” Mojo asked.

Anger burned Brick’s cheeks as he remembered that day earlier in Mr. Green’s first grade classroom. It’s not like he meant to shove Mike hard enough to break the desk, but there was no rule that said he had to share his stuff if he didn’t want to. She, of course, didn’t agree. Heat bloomed behind his eyes just thinking of the way she’d yanked the plane right out of his hands after Mike went down and then bragged about how easy it was to all their classmates.

“Blossom,” he muttered, more ashamed than angry having to admit it out loud.

Mojo was quiet a moment. Then, instead of taking the toy away, he picked up the bent hammer Brick had discarded in a fit. Mojo turned it in his hands, frowning deeply.

Just when Brick was sure this was it, and Mojo was going to rip him a new one for not only breaking in but destroying one of his tools, he walked away. Brick stared at his stupid cape dragging behind him and the broken hammer clutched in his paw.

Mojo paused and looked back at him. “Well? Come on, boy. I don’t have all day.”

Brick was so stunned that he began to float after him without thinking. Why wasn’t Mojo screaming at him by now?

He didn’t have far to go; Mojo had stopped at the workbench where Brick had initially found the hammer and rummaged around the neatly organized power tools and parts. Everything was meticulously labeled and stored way too neatly, but it made it easy to find things. He’s selected a blow torch and paused to look at Brick like he was expecting something.

Mojo sighed and held out his paw. “Come here. Let me fix it.”

“What?”

“Oh for crying out loud, give it here. Unless you want it to stay broken?”

Of course he didn’t want that. It was why he’d broken in to Mojo’s lab in the first place. But he didn’t know anything about fixing stuff. He’d seen Mojo do it a little in times past, but Brick didn’t care about robots and parts and stuff. Who needed them when he had super powers?

Reluctantly, he offered Mojo the broken toy plane with one hand and readied an energy blast in the other in case he tried any funny business. But Mojo just accepted the toy and turned it around in his paws carefully, assessing the damage. He made a grunting noise like he was thinking about something, and Brick floated closer to try to see what he was seeing.

Mojo paused and eyed him hovering over his shoulder. “I need to seal this crack and re-mold the wing. Curses. That girl has the strength of a very strong bovine, how annoying…”

Brick bit his lip. “Can you fix it?”

“Of course I can fix it. I am a genius and I happen to have a degree in Evil Welding. How do you think I am able to create so many diabolical robots and weapons so diabolically?”

Brick didn’t care about any of that, but if Mojo could fix his plane, then that would be pretty cool. “So fix it already.”

Mojo donned the welding mask and frowned at him. “And what would you have done if I had not come back when I did? Perhaps thrown it at another of my splendid creations and further destroyed that which you came here to salvage? How pathetic.”

Brick’s eyes flashed with power and he got in Mojo’s face. “I ain’t pathetic! I’m a Rowdyruff Boy, and I don’t need you or anybody else talkin’ down to me!”

“Then prove it. Instead of whining like a little baby, learn something from this experience so you can use it against Blossom next time!”

Brick’s lasers fizzled just as fast as Mojo’s attention on him, and he was left to ponder those words as the monkey lit the blow torch and began to weld. Despite himself, Brick couldn’t help but watch what Mojo was doing.

“There is a technique to it,” Mojo explained. “Watch how the metal folds…”

Mystified, Brick soon he forgot all about his anger as the airplane slowly transformed from a warped hunk of trash back into his beloved toy.

“Now for the paint.”

Mojo had everything he could possibly need to fix battle robots, let alone little toy airplanes, and when he was done, it came out redder and shinier than it had ever been when Brick stole it out of a goodwill toy box. He could hardly believe it was the same toy Blossom had ruined.

Thinking of Blossom made him scowl. Oh, he’d show her. She was nothing but a sissy know-it-all who thought she was so much better than him, but he’d show her.

Mojo was watching him, weirdly quiet. “This will not happen again.”

Brick looked up at him and smirked. “No way. I’m gonna break her dumb toys next time, see how she likes it.”

“No, you fool. Any imbecile can smash and destroy, but it takes skill and intelligence to create and plan and scheme.”

“Well, I don’t care about schemes.”

“Oh really? Because Blossom is a schemer. The schemiest schemer who ever schemed. I should know, I also have a degree in Advanced Scheming.”

“She’s not.”

“She is. Or are you saying it was just an accident that she bested you today? Tell me, was it really the broken toy you were upset about? Or could it possibly be that you cried because you were embarrassed that she beat you yet again?”

Brick flew at Mojo in a flash, eyes blazing. “She’ll never beat me!”

“Then prove it. Show me the metaphorical money, which in this case refers to your fiery determination to become better than her and outsmart her and then one day destrooooooooy her and her pesky sisters like you were created to do by me, Moooooojo Jojo! Mwahahahahaha!”

Brick bared his teeth in a sneer and clutched his toy plane to him. Outsmart Blossom? Be better than her? If he did that, then he’d finally beat her and she’d never be able to push him around or break his things ever again? Every time he and his brothers faced her and her sisters, they lost, and even though Brick didn’t care, he didn’t get it. Next time they’d win. Next time they’d come out on top once and for all. But next time never came.

She’s the schemiest schemer who ever schemed.

That didn’t sound so hard. If Blossom could scheme, then Brick could scheme. He could be smart. He could learn, like he learned how to fix his toy today. Next time he wouldn’t even need Mojo’s help.

“She’ll never beat me,” he said again, quiet, determined.

“That’s my boy.”

I ain’t your boy.

The retort was on the tip of his tongue, but Brick kept his mouth shut. Maybe…Mojo had a point. Be smart, be better, play the long game, maybe that was how he’d beat her. She, who thought she was sooooo much smarter and better than him, well, he’d show her. He’d show Mojo too.

Brick floated to the open window he’d broken in through, but paused where he crouched on the sill and tucked the shiny toy plane under his arm. “Thanks…for this.”

Mojo showed him his back. “You are welcome.”

Brick winced and bolted from the observatory without looking back. He had a long night of studying ahead of him if he wanted to catch up to that lame goody two-shoes and prove to her once and for all who was the schemiest, and he was determined to win this time.

[lenezdansleruisseau]

Pilfering apples is all right, as long as it’s blessed by Aphrodite

This fic had been inspired by this post by @grand-r-siecle (today you’re being a great source of inspiration apparently). Hope you like it!

There had been some long and warm summer days in Athens in the last weeks. A handful of students of the Lyceum had decided to escape the heavy and sultry atmosphere of the city in the orchards just outside the walls. 

There, between the trees, the air seemed lighter and cooler and subjects that had seemed impossible to remember in the stagnating classroom’s air came to their minds easily and quickly and soon the young students had found themselves discussing Socrates and Protagoras or Euripides’ last plays and even about the best ways to write about history. 

They were all bright and passionate students and they were able to discuss all the more contemporary subjects using the more in-fashion arguments of their time. And even if one of them preferred to cry over Socrates’ death, while another was happier declaiming Achilles’ menacing speech in front of Ector Shining-Helmet and another one still could not stop talking about Pericles’ politics, they were a tight-knit group of friends and they enjoyed each other company more than anything else in Hellas. 

Only one of them, usually the first to throw himself in a discussion about the decadence of satire or ignite an argument on the last popular architect, remained aloof, some feet away from the others, legs dangling down from an apple tree’s branch, head hidden in the leaves and eyes lost in a sky as blue as Athena’s irises. 

“I’m ready to bet my other shoe that that apple isn’t yours,” Bossuet commented leaning on the apple tree’s trunk on which his friend was hiding. 

Grantaire looked down and noticed that Bossuet was missing his left sandal. 

“Did Zeus, looking down from his bed of light and clouds, noticed your godly beauty and finally decided to steal you away only to lose you because of those broken and old-as-the-Tartar sandals?” he asked with a smirk on his face.

Bossuet laughed amused by R’s usual extravagant narration and shook his head with false distress.

“Unfortunately, I merely tried to hit Bahorel on the head with it and instead I hit a donkey that decided to munch on it as revenge,” he explained.

“You have to be careful with donkeys, my friend, they are the sacred animals of some mystical Egyptian deity and you never know what they may scheme against you,” Grantaire said thoughtfully and then went back to do whatever he had been doing before Bossuet came to disturb him. 

“May I know what is so important to you that you completely dismiss your friends to devote all your attention to it?” Bossuet asked. His words were reprimanding, but his voice was understanding: R sometimes needed time alone with his own thoughts and if that was one of those times, Bossuet was more than ready to leave him be. 

“I was thinking today,” Grantaire said after a long stretch of silence, “that I’m pretty sure that Aphrodite Destroyer-of-men hates me.”

Bossuet sighed silently, that was something he had already heard coming from his friend’s mouth. 

“I mean, yes, she blessed me with this breath-taking face and a body that could easily be mistaken for one of the statues of the Parthenon, but still it seems that not even one of the Gorgons themselves would want to share his bed with me,” he went on dripping sarcasm from every word.

Bossuet thought to remind him of the boy from the gymnasium he was bragging about just the day before but he quickly changed his mind: first of all, being R, well, R it was not impossible that that had been a lie and, secondly, Bossuet was pretty sure Grantaire wasn’t sulking because no one would share his bed, but because a very specific someone wasn’t. 

A very specific someone who at that moment was passionately talking about what Golden Age could enter the entire Hellas if only Athen and Sparta could look past their difference and build a union of free cities with a democratic government. 

“So you thought the best course of action was to become a crow and pilfer some apples from a tree which is definitely not yours,” concluded Bossuet trying to cheer him up a little. 

“Magpies are the ones that steal stuff, not crows,” Grantaire corrected, his eyes still focused on the apple on which he was carving something with a small knife. 

“But crows are the ones who sulk,” Bossuet replied quickly and R grunted, but his friend could tell he was hiding a laugh. 

“I decided to write the marriage vow on this apple and the first unfortunate girl who’ll happen to pick it up will be bound to me forever.”

“You truly are an evil and sulking crow,” Bossuet said teasingly. He mused if the best way to comfort his friend was to climb on the tree with him, but, remembering the last time he tried to climb a tree, decided against it. 

“I’m not sulking,” Grantaire protested.

“Oh, my friend, just because Enjolras...”

“And who are you to talk? You and Joly have been blushing after that seamstress for months now and with what results?” Grantaire said accusingly moving his hands with an exasperated gesture in the air. 

The apple flew away from his grip, forgotten in the heat of the moment, a disappeared among the green leaves. 

Bossuet had the perfect response on the tip of his tongue, but it died there because not even a moment later an unmistakable voice exclaimed: “Ouch!”

And in an instant, Enjolras was at Bossuet’s side holding the carved apple in his hands and with a confused expression on his face. 

“If you didn’t want me here, you just needed to ask instead of throwing fruit at me,” he said aiming maybe for some humor, but mostly missing the mark. 

“It wasn’t like that, I didn’t mean to throw it,” Grantaire hurried to explain frantically, “could you please give it back to Bossuet now?” 

Enjolras wasn’t listening though, he was too distracted by the words carved on the apple’s skin. 

“What is it?” he asked squinting at it. 

“Nothing!” exclaimed both Grantaire and Bossuet with different level of panic, but it was too late. 

“I swear, on the sanctuary of Aphrodite, that I’ll marry Grantaire,” Enjolras read out loud and then stopped abruptly. 

Long seconds of tense silence stretch on while the meaning of what he had just done dawned on Enjolras. Grantaire was contemplating if deciding to spend the rest of his days on that tree wasn’t, in fact, a more merciful idea than actually have to face what had just happened. 

The Bossuet started laughing loudly, bent over with the force of it, and broke the tenseness of the moment. 

“I’d be too young to marry without my father’s consent anyway,” Enjolras murmured red as the apple still in his hands with a small smile which probably meant he was aiming for a joke again. 

“Yes, yeah, of course... too young,” Grantaire stuttered. 

“Well, I’m going back with the others then. Are you two coming?” he asked trying to watch everywhere but Grantaire’s direction. 

“We’re just behind you,” Bossuet answered still out of breath from the laugh. 

Once Enjolras had disappeared once again behind the trees, Grantaire jumped down from his branch looking sort of disoriented. 

“You can never talk about it with anyone,” he said menacingly to Bossuet. 

“Yes, of course, I’m absolutely going to keep this story a secret,” he replied with the voice of someone who was just waiting for the right moment to tell exactly everyone what had just happened. 

“Juno, Heracles, and all the Olympians I have the worst friends in the whole cosmos,” Grantaire complained throwing his hands in the air and he hurried to follow Enjolras amongst the trees. 

Bossuet just smiled.

Maybe it wasn’t the right time to make him notice that Enjolras had kept the apple, after all. 

[justkending]

Used to Be Overlooked. Chapter 9.

Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N ?)

Word Count: 3900+

Warning: SLOW BURN. Soooo slow, but sooooo worth it...

Series Masterlist

Chapter 9:

As you all herded into the den, Tony approached you as everyone got situated. Steve was close behind, and soon, was by your side once again as Tony asked you what you wanted to drink.

“Anything is fine. I’m not picky,” You said politely as you crossed your hands in front of you. Something Steve noticed you did when you were in more of a business state. He could tell you still weren’t at the stage of seeing them other than acquaintances. He realized they needed to step up their game if they wanted to get to the bottom of your secret.

“You sure? Cause if you say ‘anything’, I’m going to make you a drink, and not a lot of people can hold my drinks,” Tony smirked.

“You underestimate me Stark,” you said with that damn confidence that made Steve’s heart skip a little faster. “Surprise me,” you winked walking over to an empty spot by Wanda, who was kindly patting the spot next to her with a grin.

“She’s got-” Tony started.

“Moxie. That’s for sure,” Steve finished never taking his eyes off of your perfect figure as you sat down elegantly next to Wanda still with enough space next to you for him.

“Hey, you making any progress in the plan?” Tony said bringing him back.

“If you mean, am I trying to get in her pants? No, I’m not making any progress.” Tony rolled his eyes as he went over to the bar and started making you a special concoction. “I am genuinely trying to get to know her. She seems like a nice gal besides the secret. I’m sure she has reasoning behind it, but right now-”

“We don’t know if she has an evil scheme going on in the background Cap. I hate to break it to you, but pretty girls can be evil masterminds as well.”

“You’ve been in the business too long.”

“Apparently, so has she. You should know, you’re the same age,” he huffed.

“We still don’t know if what we found is really anything to support our theory.” Steve defended. He was really hoping they were just blowing things way out of proportion, and you were just a normal girl.

“Exactly. So get America’s ass out there and do some flirting so we can get to the bottom of this,” Tony said, waving his hand over to the empty spot next to you. Steve turned around to see you a little more relaxed in the comfortable setting and laughing at something Clint said with the group. “I’m going to make a special little drink that may help loosen her up a little,” he added quietly.

Steve’s head turned quickly at the comment.

“Are you trying to get her drunk?” he whisper shouted.

“No, I’m just giving her a drink that may or may not be kinda strong. Alcohol is a truth serum in itself,” he said with a devilish grin looking down as he poured a mixture together.

“Tony, if you-”

“She doesn’t have to drink it if she doesn’t want to. She can do with it what she wants,” he shrugged seeing how the idea was effecting Steve. Rogers shot him a glare not happy with what his plan was. “Go sit down by the pretty girl, pretty boy. I’m not drugging her,” he huffed.

Hesitantly, Steve watched Tony make the drink before he slowly walked back over to you. As he got closer, he heard Clint still telling a story. He sat down next to you still giving you room, but enough closeness to seem friendly. You turned giving him a smile before looking back at Clint who was looking around the group as he finished the story.

“I kid you not, the second try and she gets just inches from the bullseye,” he said with a proud wide smile. Mostly likely talking about his daughter who he just got back from visiting. “I couldn’t be more proud of the little up and coming Hawkeye,” he smiled grabbing his drink and leaning back into the large sectional they were all on.

“You know, I’ve tried my hand in archery myself,” You spoke up making everyone turning their heads at you in shock.

“Is that so?” Clint said sitting back up and placing his elbows on his knees.

“How good are you? Think you can strip this one of his bragging rights?” Nat spoke up with a side smirk on her face.

“I highly doubt that,” you laughed making Steve’s lips pull up in a goofy grin at the sound. Tony walked over and leaned down handing you your drink as you laughed.

“Here you are. Special mix for the special lady,” he smiled handing it to you as you accepted and sniffed it before taking a sip. “Now, what was this I hear about beating Clint in an archery contest?” he asked, watching to see your reaction to the highly potent drink.

Anyone who couldn’t hold their liquor or didn’t drink too often would have made a sour face, but you? You didn't seem phased by it. You just raised an eyebrow before taking another sip and keeping it in your hands as you continued the conversation like normal. He shot Captain a look of shock, and Steve read it knowing what he was thinking. He looked back at you and saw that you didn’t think twice of the drink as you continued to talk.

“I never said anything about a competition, but to answer your question Nat, I actually placed in some tournaments when I was younger,” you answered with the slightest form of pride in your voice, but still humble nonetheless.

“Really?” Nat said surprised. “I thought you just lived and breathed science.”

“Not really living if you only do one thing,” you chuckled. “I branched out when I could. There’s always new things to learn and more fields to become an expert in.” You shrugged taking another sip.

“Well, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you,” Bucky said leaning on the back of his seat and throwing an arm over it. “Any other secrets we should know about?”

You blushed at the comment, and Steve shot Bucky a warning look to stop being so forward, but he brushed it off.

“I uh, I can’t really think of any off the top of my head, but I’m sure you all have some interesting things about yourself. I would love to hear them.”

“You’re the guest. You don’t want to hear all of our silly little stories. We want to get to know you,” Tony said trying to bring the subject back to you.

“Well, I mean-” you started taken aback at the attention.

“Tell us anything. We want to hear it all,” Bucky smiled.

You looked back at Steve almost like he was your support net. You weren’t sure what to say, and you were hoping he would step in to help you.

He just looked at you with a grin, and threw his arm around the back of the chair leaning a little closer.

“I’m with them. I want to get to know the mystery girl I ran into at the coffee shop,” he said just soft enough for only you to hear.

You blushed and sighed before grabbing the drink taking a long sip from it.

“In that case, I’m going to need a little more to drink.”

Tony jumped up clapping his hands smiling as if he won.

“I can help with that,” he said coming over and taking your empty glass. “Same thing?”

“Sure,” you said crossing your legs and getting comfortable. “What would you like to know? Ask and I’ll see what I have to say.”

The room took advantage of digging deep. Steve, Bucky, and Tony were surprised at how well you answered even the most random questions. Like how you got into archery, or how you were able to get into college and fend for yourself out in the real world coming out of the supposed orphanage you lived in. Then when people started asking backstories that required more detail, you didn’t even stutter explaining. How did you have the answers locked and loaded? It was like it was all mapped out, and you quizzed yourself beforehand to not raise suspicion. To top it all off on making it even more impressive to the three, you were acting pretty drunk to not slip up even a little. Steve was starting to second guess their whole diabolical plan to expose you. Not that he was mad about it, but it was becoming more and more of a stretch from where they were coming from.

“Ok, Miss. Ember. If you were so good at archery, I challenge you,” Clint said with a few slurred words after drinking one too many glasses of scotch.

“I don’t think you or me are in the right condition for a competition with weapons Mr. Barton,” you smiled slumping in your more relaxed body language and brushing Steve’s hand on the back of the couch.

His hand tingled at the touch, and when you started to fall a little more, he grabbed your shoulders gently to keep you from slumping too much.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to agree with her. I don’t think you guys are sober enough to be shooting pointed objects at things,” Steve said as you giggled at his touch. He chuckled lowly at your giggle thinking about how even drunk you were graceful, and even more adorable.

“Oh, horse shit,” Clint groaned, waving a hand and standing up walking over to where he was in front of you.

You laughed at his cursing, and covered your mouth embarrassed at how school girlish it sounded, but Steve wanted to hear it a million more times.

“What do you say Rosie? Wanna see if you can beat me?” he said putting his hand out for you to accept the offer.

“Rosie, hmm?” you smirked looking at his hand. “You know what? I would love to prove you wrong,” you said, grabbing it and using it for support as you stood with him. You teetered a little but Steve was quick to catch you and had a hand on your waist for balance. “Excuse me Mr. Rogers. I can’t seem to find my balance,” you giggled again covering your mouth.

“Fine by me if I get to help you up,” he smiled looking down at you as you turned to him. Apparently the alcohol was getting to you because besides the drunken stumbling and bet making, you were flushed in your cheeks. The warmth from the drink was showing, but he wasn’t complaining. He got to rest a hand on your hip and see the soft glow on your cheeks. “Are you sure you want to do this? This doesn’t seem very safe,” he said getting concerned now.

“Who said anything about it being safe?” Clint said grabbing your hand and weaving it into his arm as he started to escort you to the target room.

“Yes, Cap. You do know what you do for a living right? What’s the fun in safe?” you said looking back with a playful smirk on your lips, and a sway on your hips. Almost like you were challenging him. You winked before turning back and laughing with Clint.

Everyone watched for a quick second in shock at the change of pace.

“I don’t know about you guys, but this is definitely something I want to see,” Bucky said, standing quickly and moving to catch up with you two.

“I second that!” Sam said rushing as well.

“We should have her over more. She’s fun. Also has a wild side,” Nat said getting up next with Vision and Wanda in toe. “She’ll fit right in.”

As they started following Clint and you, Steve turned looking at Tony who was kissing Pepper goodnight, and walking to catch up with the group.

“Get what you wanted?” Steve asked as they went to follow the group.

“She’s drunk yes, but her answers? No hesitation. Not even having to process them. Either she’s really good, and has everything figured out, or…”

“Or?”

“Or she’s giving herself away by knowing a little too much to answer.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, some of those things we asked? People wouldn’t have any memory of and would just say ‘you know, I couldn’t tell ya.’ Instead she has answer for everything,” Tony said as they turned the corner.

“I see your point,” Steve said almost disappointed that he was onto something.

“On the plus side for you, she’s been sneaking a look here and there at you. Not that you haven’t been doing the same, but your charm is really working for you tonight,” he said elbowing Steve gently as they walked.

“What? No, she hasn’t-”

“Don’t kid yourself Rogers. She’s giving you the googly eyes, and you’re giving them right back. If this all works out and we’re wrong and she is normal. I think you should make a move.”

“I don’t know…” Steve said as they approached the door to the target room Clint usually practices in.

“Sure you do,” Tony said patting his shoulder as he walked in, and left the conversation at the door. “So this is really happening?” he said to the group who was crowded around the two drunkards that were about to shoot weapons.

“A hundred percent,” Clint said grabbing a bow, and a few arrows. “I have a women's bow if you-”

“I’ll use that one if you don’t mind,” you said looking at Clint’s making everyone go wide eyed.

Clint laughed it off though.

“More power to you. It’s a little heavier though, and has more resistance.”

“I think I can handle,” You said crossing your arms and leaning back on your foot more laid back. “After you of course,” you said motioning to the target.

Clint let out a short laugh watching you. He tilted his head and shrugged it off before moving to the target, and lining up. It was a little harder drunk with everything spinning, but he never missed. He took the shot everyone watching, but not shocked when it landed right in the middle of the bullseye.

“Done. Think you can match it?” he said turning smugly back to you, and handing off the bow.

You took it no problem and studied it.

“This is a beautiful bow. What kind is it?” you said twisting it in your hand and Steve moved to the front of the crowd to where he was just a few feet away from you. He was ready to help you stand if your legs and balance decided to finally go out.

“It’s custom made by Tony. Everything from what we wear, to what we use as gear is all Stark made,” Steve answered making you look up and into his blue eyes.

You smiled not realizing he was even there until now.

“Interesting. Wanna come visit the lab at some point, and custom make something for me sometime Tony?” you said looking around Steve’s shoulder at him.

“If you make the shot, I’ll do it for free,” he smirked putting his hands in his pockets.

“Deal,” you said grabbing an arrow and making your way to the target spot. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me. It may take me a minute to find my groundings. All those drinks are making me a little… spiny,” you said giggling at the word that was definitely not something you would say sober.

“Rose, are you sure you should-” Steve said concern filling his voice again.

“Don’t worry about me. I know my limits,” you smiled placing the arrow in its position and turned just your head to look at the group that was on their toes anxious to see if you really were as good as you were leading on. “Jeez, you all look so tense. What do you think I’m going to do? Shoot someone?”

“Maybe, but we’re more excited for you to show up Barton here,” Nat said throwing a thumb the direction of a stern Clint who was watching your stance, and crossing his arms.

“You ready for that Clint?” you asked with a cork of your eyebrow.

“Give it your best,” he said in a cocky tone.

“You asked for it.” You turned back to the target eyeing it and studying it.

Everyone shifted in their spots nervous to see if you were just all talk and drunk. Steve's eyes were glued to you, nervous that you would miss aim and somehow shoot a wall ricocheting the arrow somewhere.

You made everyone a little anxious as you stumbled on your feet a little trying to find the right stance and twitched with the bow trying to balance the weight.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea to give the drunk girl a bow and arrow…

Then almost instantly, your stance straightened and the the shuffling stopped. You were still and completely in control. You raised the bow, propped your elbow, and pulled the string back to your cheek with ease. If they hadn’t seen you drink all those drinks, they would've thought you were sober. 

With the light sound of you breathing out in concentration, you let go of the string and the arrow flew straight forward hitting right in the center of the red circle.

Jaws dropped, eyebrow raised, breaths that people didn’t realize they were holding, were let go.

“Holy-” Nat, Bucky, and Sam started.

“Shit.” Clint finished coming around you and looking at the perfect shot. “But you- you’re- How did you-?”

“I told you not to underestimate me,” you said smiling at your accomplishment and turning back to the group with a gloating grin. “I believe you said something about visiting my lab for some updates, am I right Mr. Stark?” you questioned placing the bow down and turning to Tony who still had his mouth open.

Wanda and Nat’s looks turned to impressed smirks as they saw what you did. You played them. Hell, you may have been drunk, but you had a skill that they were not ready for. And you showed them not to underestimate a woman. A powerful one at that.

“Did you just-”

“Prove you wrong?” you finished for him as you walked over and stood next to Steve only a mere foot between you two. “Yes, I actually proved a majority of you wrong,” you grinned. “I could tell you didn’t think I could do it, and when that happens,” you shrugged before putting your hands behind your back. “Well things like that happen,” you nodded back to the target without looking.

“Right. So you played me?” Tony said.

“If that’s how you want to look at it,” you shrugged.

Tony huffed a laugh looking down. “Well!” he said clapping his hand and walking to the door. “I think we all need a drink after that.”

You giggled, and everyone started following Tony out, all muttering to themselves about the surprising scene that they just watched. Steve and you were the last to leave, and as you started walking, you paused grabbing Steve’s arm who was right next to you.

“Mind being my balance beam on the way up. I can’t seem to walk straight after Tony’s drinks,” you laughed.

He quickly extended his arm, and you hooked your hand through it slightly leaning on him for support.

“You sure about that? You seemed to have your balance two seconds ago,” he laughed with you.

“Maybe, but also this gives me a chance to hold onto Captain America. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” you said with a flirty smile.

Steve blushed at the comment and chuckled under his breath as he started guiding you back up stairs.

“Tell me about yourself Steve,” you said randomly as the both of you walked at a slow speed taking your time.

“What?” he said surprised.

“Anything. I feel like I’ve been spilling my guts out about my life to everyone tonight, and I don’t even know anything about you all.”

“Well, you said you watch the news?” he asked looking at you, and you nodded looking ahead. “Then you know about me pretty much. I feel like my story is already out there,” he said in almost a sadden tone.

You turned your head with an empathetic look.

“That’s not true.”

“How so?” he said looking into those big y/e/c eyes.

“That’s just a piece of who you are. Just like I’m one of the youngest female scientist in my field is a piece of who I am. If you can tell from tonight, that’s not all that I am. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“That you do,” he laughed. Oh, how you loved the sound of that deep laugh.

“So, tell me one of your tricks.”

“I guess you could say I’m still trying to figure them out. My life has been just constant fighting. Ever since I got the serum I’ve just been part of a war. Defending those who can’t defend themselves,” he shrugged not sure what else to talk about. “Then I woke up, 70 years later, and-” he paused. “More wars and fights still needed to be fought. So… I fought.”

You looked up at him with a sad look. He really had thought that that was all there was to life. He hadn’t been able to live it really ever since the 40’s.

“Ok, what about hobbies? You must have some of those?” You both paused just right outside the Den wanting a few more minutes to yourself.

“Hobbies?”

“You know besides, the kicking and punching bad guys. How do you spend your nights off?”

“Training I guess?”

“Steve, come on. There has to be something else.”

He paused looking at your pleading eyes for more knowledge on him. You really did want to help him see more than just the good fight he had been a part of.

“Um, I guess drawing. I like drawing.” he shrugged as he turned to you.

“Drawing?” you asked looking down with a smile. You remember a certain someone telling you about that. “You any good at it?” you said looking up.

“I mean it’s not professional, but it’s uh, it’s not bad.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I would like to see them sometime,” you smiled making him look back up.

“What?”

“Maybe you can bring them on our coffee date.” you said confidently.

“Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised Steve. I would love to go out with you sometime,” you said bringing your hands back in front of you, and folding them.

“I would love that too,” he said shyly.

“Perfect. It’s a date. I assume Tony can help you find a way to contact me,” you winked before walking back to the group.

Steve let out a breath as he watched you walk off with ease. Were you even drunk? You weren’t walking or acting like it anymore? With the amount of alcohol Tony gave you, any woman your size, no matter her tolerance, shouldn’t be acting this put together.

“Who are you Rosalyn Ember? Who are you really?” Steve asked as he watched and slowly made his way back to the group.

Chapter 10

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If I tagged you and you aren’t normally on my tag list, I thought you would enjoy the story. Fair warning, it is a slow burn so we will get to the bottom of the issue later, but the burn is what makes it soooooo sweet. I’m really excited for this series, and would love your feedback:) Thank you!

If you want removed let me know. After 3 chapters I will only tag those that I normally do, or those that ask:)

[linssikeittomies]

The Place Between Here An There - Chapter 2: Ship Of Fools

Masterpost     AO3

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8   Chapter 9  Chapter 9(cont’d)

Ugh, Alfred is so hard to write! His POVs are all Thing happens, thing happens, thing happens, he has a thought, thing happens… Ivan’s POV is more like Thing happens, he has a thought about the thing, that reminds him of past thing, thing happens… And Alfred has too many non-plot-important friends, but leaving them out feels even more wrong because he’s a people person first and foremost. He does get more thinkey later, but at this point of the story he doesn’t really worry about anything so he doesn’t have too many thoughts floating around his brain. His parts feel like such filler orz Try and bear with me orz I got so sick of looking at this mess and not being able to write it the way I wanted to so I decided to screw it and let it be, filler-y and bad and all.

–

“Morning, sunshine!” a happy voice greeted Ivan right as he stirred. The grating cheeriness revealed the identity of the perpetrator before Ivan even opened his eyes. The act only confirmed that the annoying idiot was grinning from ear to ear. Seeing that his bedmate was somewhat awake encouraged the American to rise up on his elbows to peer down with an excited look. So he was near-sighted, since he hadn’t put on his glasses.

“Dobroye utro”, Ivan muttered, not sure if he was glad to see Alfred or not. The novelty of being treated like a normal human being was fading quickly now that he wasn’t allowed to wake up at his own pace. “Are you really a cop?” Alfred queried with badly contained glee, leaning in closer with his morning breath. With a grimace Ivan turned his head slightly, and Alfred seemed to get the hint. “Yes, a detective.” “Man, that’s so cool! I applied to the academy a few years back, but I had speeding tickets, and the air force didn’t want me for some reason so I’m still-“ Probably a store clerk. Maybe a cleaner. Likely living on his parents’ money. “- a fireman and it’s great ‘cause I’m saving lives and all, but man, cops! I love cops!” Yeah, right. This infuriating loser seemed barely literate. Pro wrestling would suit him much better: prancing around in embarrassing clothes yelling cringey lines, and no one would notice if he got brain damage. Claiming he actually did important work was the most bold-faced lie Ivan had heard in his life. “But how in the hell did you get in? Did you kill all the other applicants?” “How rude. I was never linked to those cases.” Alfred pretended to be struck dumb, and clutched his pearls like a scandalized granny. “I was hoping you’d claim to be the paragon of justice, but you just ran with it! How am I supposed to make fun of you with that attitude?” he laughed as he sat up, dragging the covers up with him and then letting them fall off his shoulders. The move revealed his toned chest and subtle six-pack again. Ivan contemplated taking a spied look between his legs, but decided against it. His senses were returning slowly, but the insecurity had already creeped in almost full swing. He pretended to be cold and wrapped the covers more tightly around him. “It’s not an attitude. It’s the truth.” Alfred laughed and told Ivan to dress his ugly ass, he was making pancakes. Ivan was not one to say no to a free meal, and the company only left something to desire.

Even if waking up next to someone was a questionable joy, having someone to eat breakfast with was undoubtedly pleasant. Much time had passed since the last time Ivan had a discussion at the table. They used to be common in the old days, and the siblings especially had been practically glued together, but then the thing happened and everything went to hell. Their family dynamics never got back to normal, even after 19 years of stability and moving halfway across the globe. It had no longer felt natural – one was missing and one became an outsider. It was almost more distracting to have his sisters in the same table than eating alone. But with Alfred there was no history so he couldn’t be reminded of anything, and as a result he found himself genuinely enjoying the moment. “Well, ya just don’t look the part, yannow? Think Magnum PI! Ya need a square jaw and a cool baritone voice and a great mustache.” “So what kind of cop do I look like?” “Hmmmm…” Alfred hummed and held an exaggeratedly long pause, took a bite off his pancakes, chewed and then shrugged. “I dunno, the kind who negs decent people and takes advantage of drunk guys?” Ivan shrugged nonchalantly.  “Guilty as charged”, he agreed. He doubted Alfred had actually been all that drunk by the time they left the restaurant, and the stumble had been a conspiracy to make Ivan take him home. He still had trouble imagining Katyushka scheming like this, because she had always been the most honest and straightforward of the family. Her saintly nature must have come from a distant ancestor. “So are you gonna go and brag to all your friends about how you finally scored with a conscious person?” “I hesitate to call someone with your level of brain activity conscious.” “But you will brag to all your friends?” “I don’t have friends”, Ivan’s mouth said with brutal honesty before his brain could shut it up. His breath got stuck in his throat as he waited for inevitable pitying look. It always happened. He could be as terrifying as he wanted, the second anyone learned about his sorry excuse of a social life they suddenly saw him a charity case, defective, helpless… Nothing could be further from the truth, but nothing would convince the hypocrites  that Ivan didn’t need anyone, people were only in the way, and he didn’t care for backstabbing gold diggers or emotional leeches. Jones was a person, Ivan had no use for him. God spared him just this once. Alfred, oblivious to anything but a jackhammer to the skull, missed his slip completely and continued with the friendly hostility. “Small wonder, with your personality.” Ivan was well aware of his flaws, but could do nothing to change them. His path had formed in front him on its own on that day and there were no side roads. He wasn’t like Jones, who had a say in what happened to him. He had no business commenting on what he knew nothing about, but spoken like a true American, he felt the need to police everyone else and just flap his mouth hole to make noise for the sake of it. And he had such a grating voice, too. Ivan wanted to get out of this apartment yesterday. “More coffee?” “Yes, please.” Watching Jones stuff his face with pancakes made Ivan wonder what he even found appealing about the glutton at this point. He was a slob with terrible table manners who loved putting people down. That answered the question of why he hadn’t gotten laid in ages, at least. He should get drunk more often, it seemed to better his odds. “Do you have the day off?” Ivan asked. He almost regretted it, since Jones didn’t bother swallowing his half-eaten pancakes, choosing instead to spit soggy crumbs all over the table. Ivan quickly lifted his coffee off it. Jones failed to take the hint, as expected. “Yeah, but my cousin’s coming over. I’ll have to kick you out by noon.” Ivan hadn’t been planning to stay after breakfast. He hadn’t planned to stay the night. Having to leave in a few hours was no problem for him. And even if he had been free to stay as long as he wanted, which was not a single minute by the way, he was a busy man. He had things to do. Plans to review. He wouldn’t stay even if Jones begged to blow him. “I’ll be gone before that.” Jones smirked coyly, for reasons unknown to Ivan. “Do you wear the uniform?” Ah, he was one who loved a man in uniform. Ivan could hardly blame him, he himself couldn’t resist a suit with a tie. Wonderful toys they were, so versatile, never failed to make him want to pull. He’d like to put one on Jones, for so many reasons. “Only for special occasions.” Ivan would have liked to have a newspaper at the table. The absence of one didn’t exactly surprise Ivan, Jones didn’t strike him as the type to read, even magazines. It was excusable – in his line of work it wasn’t important to know what had went on during the night. For Ivan, it was both a necessary evil and a questionable joy. Not knowing the latest updates when he walked into the office was considered bad work morale, and that’s where news apps really came in handy. A newspaper, after all, first had to go into print, and then be delivered. While all that happened, ten new things had unfolded. It was still nice to have a physical page in his hands, feel the crinkle. They were easily stored. Ivan had a whole bookcase dedicated to newspaper and magazine clippings: cold cases, cases he’d worked on, PD bashings, survival stories, true crime articles… Lately he had taken to throwing out some of the older things to make room for all the Baton killer related articles. 7 confirmed victims, 5 suspected, and that was only after a year and half of activity. Despite what you heard in popular media, it was actually quite rare for a serial killer to have more than 4 victims per year. Reporters liked to play up the numbers, speculating at least a dozen victims, but even more than that they liked blaming the police department for not catching the raving lunatic. Their words, not his – from the evidence and bodies it was clear as day the Baton killer was not crazy. Yes, he never bothered hiding the bodies well, but there was never any evidence left. Every body was cleaned thoroughly after the act to dispose of any DNA evidence, there was never a glimpse of him in security footage, no one ever reported seeing someone who didn’t belong… It takes meticulous planning and a clear mind to do something that carefully. The police weren’t even completely sure they were dealing with a male killer – the only reason to suspect that was that among the victims were two large men who had last been seen in gay bars, and an unopened condom left on the body of one female who had been reported to be fiercely faithful to her clean husband. Ivan didn’t like not knowing things. He got anxious when he couldn’t be sure. It should have been common courtesy to have one paper at the table. “A suit, then?” Ivan shook his head. He preferred wearing his everyday clothes to work, because they made him look just a bit less intimidating. A suit was a double-edged sword: on one hand, it tended to make people more nervous and slip up, but on the other, it isolated him further. Normal human interactions were few and far between for Ivan, so he cherished every single one. This was why he liked dealing with the the deaf: they couldn’t tell the disparity between his voice and stature, so they assumed he was just a normal, large man. In this Alfred resembled them. The bad thing about Jones was that he was insufferable. Ivan had a hunch Jones would be difficult with the authorities, just for the sake of being difficult. “Betcha you’d look hot in one”, Alfred said, winking. Ivan didn’t agree. He didn’t think he looked hot in most clothes. He still muttered a thank you because he wasn’t on the mood to argue.

~¨:.:¨~

Jeez, this guy was just too cute! No adult man should be allowed to have such an adorable face! The way he shyly blushed and averted his eyes to the side combined with his huge stature did something incredibly pleasant to Al. It was getting the best of two worlds. He tended to go for the big, tough guys, but enjoyed the odd twink every now and then, and here he had two for the price of one! Moving to the big city really was the best damn decision he had made in his life. Rural Kentucky just didn’t have these types. “Unlike you, no doubt”, Ivan answered weakly, and Al grinned again. He couldn’t explain why he liked exchanging insults so much. He did it all the time with Arthur, too, but the Brit always got pissed too quickly. Mattie’s game was too strong, so Al no longer did it with him. But now he had a new playmate! One that liked the game just as much! He hadn’t had this much fun since last night, and with any luck he might be able to convince the Russian babe for round two of that, as well! Maybe one day he could bring the insult game to bed? “Yeah, but I look good naked”, Al shot back. Ivan rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee again. “You get cross-eyed when you take off your glasses.” “Do not! Take that back, fatso!” With a teasing smile Ivan raised his gun again. “And you smell terrible. Have you showered in the last three days?” “Didn’t bother you last night.” “I had a momentary lapse of standards. The culture must be damaging my brain.” Aaahhh, that accent! That was paradise, right there! Ivan really had everything: looks, personality, huge body, huge dick… He should marry the guy before he wriggled away. The way to a man’s heart goes through his stomach, right? “Sure you don’t want pancakes?” Alfred confirmed. He was almost offended Ivan had refused them the first time. While his weren’t as divine as Mattie’s, they could still make a man moan in pleasure. Pancakes were the one food he never made from instant mix or in a microwave. “I am sure.” Al pouted and poured some more syrup on his stack. Fine, be that way!Vodka had probably ruined his tastebuds anyway, so he couldn’t appreciate the pancakes if he wanted to. Ivan gulped down the last of his coffee and got up. “Leaving already?” “I have work. Thank you for the coffee.” Work on Sunday? What kind of breakthrough had they had in whatever case Ivan was working on? Detectives usually only worked weekdays 9 to 5. “No prob. See ya ‘round!” Ivan scoffed as he put on his coat. He was wearing three layers, and it wasn’t even that cold yet. Guess he was just always cold, if he needed two sweaters even indoors. “No one would want to see you again. You are a headache on feet.” Al laughed. A lot of people commented on his loud voice, usually telling him to turn it down a notch. He just didn’t have an indoor voice and he got excited so easily. “And my ears are ringing from listening to you squeaking”, he joked back. He wondered why Ivan decided to use such a weird voice. Obviously he had a much deeper natural pitch, but it hadn’t come out much even last night. He sounded like a prepubescent boy. It added to his cute image, but couldn’t have been easy to produce. Maybe it was an effect of growing up with two high-pitched sisters? “Are you the youngest?” “The youngest what?” Ivan asked, voice muffled from the pale pink scarf. Another cute quirk, didn’t fit his towering height and wide shoulders at all. “Sibling. Katie’s the oldest, right?” “Yes. Katyusha is four years older and Natasha is five years younger.” “Really? You and Natalie look the same age. Do you look young or does she look old?” “It could be a little bit of both.” Ivan had his hand on the knob, but hesitated. Al tilted his head questioningly, and Ivan reached a decision. He dug out a pen from his pocket, but couldn’t find paper, so he wrote his number on the wall instead. “Call me if you want to go drinking sometime.” “After you ruin my fucking wall?! In your dreams!” Ivan gave an infuriating little smirk and closed the door after him. Damn that Russki and his adorable ways. How long should Al wait before he called?  The same day would be needy and a little creepy, but he didn’t want to wait two days! Agh, this was just like that one time in Montana! Or, Christ, Tex! He couldn’t handle another bi-curious cutie deciding he wanted to stick to women! The guy was just too much fun, Al really liked just hanging out with him, not that he minded the afterhours, either… After wolfing down his seventh pancake Al did his morning pushups and jog. Artie had been right in that age would eventually catch up with him and he’d need to work harder to stay in shape. With his steady diet of junk food it was really a miracle he was so fit. Musta been good genes. Pissed Artie off to no end. Speaking of, he should clean up the place. Neither of them was looking forward to Mister Cleanliness nagging about Al’s housekeeping skills. It didn’t really even matter, no one in the history in the world had died of a few shirts on the floor, or a few weeks’ dust, or a messy closet, and penicillin had been discovered in dirty dishes. And so what if there was some food gone bad in the fridge, they were in closed containers, the bugs weren’t about to strongarm open the lids. Ehh, Artie was still three hours away, he had time. He could play some Mortal Kombat first. He needed to practice Kenshi’s fatalities anyway. And while he was on the sofa anyway, he might as well try out that GTA swing glitch! Oldie but goodie.

Knock knock. “Who’s there?” Just kidding, Al already knew it was Artie. His British cousin was the only person in the world who knocked when there was a perfectly good doorbell. “It’s me.” “Me who?” “Arthur, you bloody twat! Open up!” Sigh, ol’ Artie never played along. All he laughed at was that Monty Python show. Poor guy, he’d die an early death thanks to never laughing. Al threw the controller on the couch and got up to get the door. Yikes, those eyebrows were still a shock every time. “I swear you grow like twenty new hairs every time I see you!” Al commented, earning an irritated sigh from his cousin. After 17 years he didn’t need to ask what Al meant by that. “And you accumulate more and trash in your place. Three copies of Die Hard 2?” Artie whined looking at the living room table. Well, at least he wasn’t bitching about the dirty coffee cups and plates on the kitchen table. He should be a maid, he was so great at whining about pointless stuff. After setting his luggage in a corner, Artie made a show of placing the Xbox controller on the coffee table and making himself at home on the couch, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “Never again!” he announced. “This baby screamed the whole flight and my neighbour spilled his orange juice all over my trousers.” Seeing Al eyeing his perfectly dry pants, he explained. “I changed in the airport toilet.” “Wanna throw them in the washing machine?” “Go ahead.” Artie’s suitcases were works of art. He knew just the way to tightroll everything and exactly how much of any given thing was needed, then filled every square inch so perfectly it looked like a Tetris high score. Speaking of Tetris! “Hey, Artie! Guess who scored with a cop last night?” “Alfred, please! I don’t want to hear about your sex life!” “But he was so great! So tall and cool and burly and cute! And I got his number!” Artie gave him a confused look from under his arm. “Burly and cute? That’s a combination you don’t hear often.” “I know! But it was awesome! God, I wish I had a photo to show you, he was just perfect! He’s a detective!” Artie lifted his feet off the couch to let Al plop down next to him. “He acted all cool and aloof and then blushed when I said he’d look hot in a suit! It was adorable!” Al knew he was gushing like a teenage girl about her latest celebrity crush but he couldn’t help it! This was the single greatest thing that had happened to him since… since he first got laid, basically! “And he’s a cop! I’ve never seen a cop like him! He wrote his number on the wall”, Al helpfully pointed at the number scratched on the wall paper. The wince on Artie’s face was great. “You two seem like you would get along swell”, he muttered. “I know! He’s not at all uptight like you are!” “It’s called being a functioning adult! You git!” “A functioning adult would have brought me Cadbury creme eggs!” “The last time I did you thought I was flirting with you!” Oh right, it had been the day before Valentine’s and Artie had been blushing for some reason.

They cleaned up the place together. Artie tried to cook “as a reward”, which would have been about as much of a reward as a death penalty. Al insisted he wouldn’t make a guest cook, so they went out for dinner, even though Artie hardly counted as a guest. He was rarely over, thanks to the ocean between them, but the guy was as much family as Mattie. Every time he stayed at Al’s place it was like a roommate coming home. Artie didn’t buy the excuse, as he never did, and claimed Al needed a good English dinner in him just once and would never go back, as he always did. This was routine for them. Everything about Artie was familiar. He had gone through a few phases in his teens and early twenties, but ever since becoming a premature grandpa the only thing that changed were his clothes. He was as stagnant as Mattie. “You gonna go see Mattie after dropping by our folks?” “I don’t have time”, Artie said. “I only have three days left and I couldn’t get a ticket. I’ll see him on Christmas.” It was something of a tradition for the whole extended family to gather at Mattie’s place on Christmas, since he was one of the few who didn’t switch apartments every year. Not everyone could make it at the same time, some stayed for a few days before Christmas and some dropped in to say hi on Christmas Day. Al always stayed in the guest room, but the sheer number of relatives forced the large majority to stay in hotels. Artie got a mattress on the floor the years his pervert husband stayed home. They had learned from the first time. “Francis is still working out his schedule so I’m not sure if he can make it.” “Good! He’s already got a hubby, he shouldn’t hit on Mattie!” Francis was an okay guy most of the time, but you better not let your guard down or you’d find his hands down your pants. How Artie hadn’t dumped his cheating ass was something Al would never understand. If he ever started going steady, he wouldn’t forgive a single stray ogle. Luckily Ivan didn’t seem like the type to cheat, since it had taken him so long to even realize Al had been hitting on him from the first sentence he had said to him. It didn’t look like the guy had much of a sex drive. “And he better stay the hell away from my date, too!” “Your date? Weren’t you single just a few hours ago?” “I’m talking about that cop!” Artie made a face, but Al couldn’t figure out what he had said wrong this time. “Al, you only met the guy yesterday, and now you’re bringing him to Canada for Christmas?” “No! I mean, I could, I think we really clicked and I’m of course awesome so he totally wouldn’t say no.” Another face, more concerned than exasperated this time. “Oh come on Artie, be a little more happy for me wontcha?” “I am, it’s just that – you’ve been hurt before, because you get so into it far too early.” Right, Tex. But this was different from Tex! Ivan was completely comfortable being with men! He wouldn’t pull the same “incompatible” stunt he had! Ivan and Al went so well together, they liked the same things, they understood each other, and talking was so easy between them. Talking with Tex had sometimes been like pulling teeth. “I’ll be fine! I’m a grown man! And it’s just for fun – I just meant I wouldn’t object to getting serious if he wants to.” “Well – good luck”, Artie muttered. “Thanks!”

The next morning Al woke up to a horrible smell drifting from the kitchen. Not the worst Artie had ever caused, but it still made his eyes water. The sentiment was nice, but Artie just didn’t get that his breakfast would be put to better use in torture chambers. They did the usual song and dance – Artie claiming his cooking was great and Al just didn’t understand the fine undertones of British cuisine, and Al dumping his portion in the garbage and frying a healthy dose of bacon. Then they went sightseeing, since this was Artie’s first time in this city – the last time he had been living in Waynesburg. He’d leave tomorrow while Al was at work, so they had to make the day nice, since they would next see each other on Christmas. Granted, they talked daily but it still felt important to part on friendly terms. The one time they hadn’t, Artie had cut all contact with Al for 5 years. It didn’t matter that it had been over a decade ago, that before and after they were thick as thieves. So the next morning Al let his cousin make breakfast, bravely swallowed one bite and washed it down with half a gallon of Coke, and finished with three sunny side ups. Artie insisted his “baked beans”, that is, a sad, dry heap of something bumpy, and black pudding were delicious and nutritious. That might have been the case with store-bought “pudding” that had no business being called pudding, if the ingredient’s weren’t so god damn gross to begin with. “It’s an acquired taste, that’s for sure”, Al muttered in response. How Artie was capable of swallowing his own hellish productions was a mystery for the ages. He was married to a master chef and still lived in a delusional world where his own cooking wouldn’t be censored in daytime TV. Al left the Brit to shovel his indescribable “consumables” alone, and 15 minutes later arrived at the station. “Morning, guys!” “Morning”, greeted a chorus. A slow night, then, if so many were at the station. José made space for Al at the table and they went over the incidents of the last shift. A couple car crashes, two kitchen fires, one false alarm. Such a big city and so few incidents, that couldn’t last. Today would have to be busy. Stu dug out the playing cards after the last shift went home. They were starting the second round of poker when duty called the first time – a false alarm from an old folks’ home, something had spilled on the stove and triggered the alarm. One of the nurses made eyes at Stu, who never wasted a chance to flirt with a pretty face. “Way to keep it professional, Stu”, Jack sighed back in the truck. Jack was a forty-year old virgin. Word on the street was he’d never had a single girlfriend, or boyfriend, and that was why he was so frustrated. He spent most of his free time exercising and fishing. “I just made her day”, Stu argued proudly. He never went beyond flirting, as far as Al knew – the man worshiped his wife. His phone memory was 90% pictures of her. That reminded Al - should he have called Ivan yesterday? Al knew he wouldn’t mind being contacted the next morning, but Artie did keep telling him he was the most socially clueless bloke in the world, so maybe he shouldn’t trust his own judgment? Why hadn’t he asked Artie yesterday? The old man might not have been in the game for a decade, but he had to still have some memories from his single days! “Hey Jack, suppose you gave your number to a girl. Wouldja think she was desperate if she called you the next day?” Jack sighed exasperatedly, like he always did when Al asked him for relationship advice. “I don’t know. I never know anything you ask! Think whatever you think.” “I just wanna make sure! ‘Cause I don’t wanna drive away a good guy by being creepy.” “You’ll drive him away by being obnoxious”, Jack snapped. “Can we please concentrate on work instead of your sex life?” “I’d rather not think about all the dick my coworker is sucking, either”, Stu commented from behind the wheel. Had it been anyone else, Al would have punched them. Stu was chill, he just had a crass sense of humor and no brain-to-mouth filter. “Honestly though, wait until next evening but not longer. You’ll want to seem interested.” Shit, so was it already too late?! A day and a half had already passed! And the station was still ten minutes away! Had he already screwed up his chance? Jeez, stay cool, man! Ivan was totally into him, if anything he’d be overjoyed Al had remembered him! Yeah, that sounded much better. Al could salvage this. Right when they got to the station he’d call. Riiiiight… nnnnnnnnnoooooooooow! “I need to make a call!” he yelled and sprinted for the relative peace of the locker room.

~¨:.:¨~

Ivan was in no mood for solicitors right now. Staring at files and security footage for hours on end was soul-sucking work enough without some young hopeful desperately begging him to buy just this one amazing supplement that comes free with this subscription of these seven home improvement magazines only for 19.99 per month! Ivan never had problems hanging up on them immediately but that didn’t take away the reminder of outside life. For now, the only place that was supposed to exist was this sleazy alley with dismal lighting where one frame in a week’s worth might or might not reveal that Richard Boyarin had walked by it at some point during his vacation. Incredibly important work. Ivan frowned at the screen. It was a number he didn’t have saved on his phone. That was no news, he had a total of eight numbers in there. Two were his sisters’, one his boss’, one his partner’s, one for the station front desk, three for delivery food. He suddenly had the irrationally hopeful thought that it might be Alfred. Absurd as the notion was, it was tempting. And Toris clearly wanted him to silence the ringing, so why not try his luck? Anything would be better than trying to distinguish the black pixels from the other, slightly less black pixels. Fully prepared to be disappointed, Ivan answered as harshly as he could. “Alyo?” ”Hey Vanya, it’s Alfred!” Thoroughly shocked, but altogether pleased, Ivan felt an unexpectedly honest smile forming on his face, and casually insulted Alfred’s pronunciation. “Oh screw you, I did fine. You free tomorrow night?” Alfred’s nasal voice asked, completely carefree and smiling widely. Typical American, but at least Alfred’s smile wasn’t deceitful. He smiled because he was happy, not because he needed a good tip to pay his bills. Ivan was free, and had the feeling he would even make himself free if he hadn’t been. But the idiot didn’t need to know that, his ego was bloated enough already. “Hmm…” Pausing as if to check his calendar, Ivan lifted a finger to his lips at the nervously disapproving Toris. There was never any evidence in the Baton killer’s cases anyway. Of course not a single hair, spit drop or footprint had been found in this one either, which was the whole reason they had been forced to turn to these good as useless security tapes. The only thing ever found were the bodies, and that they had already analyzed to Hell and back, and of course it had revealed nothing new. Why pour over the same old evidence, hour after countless hour without any breaks? There would be a new victim, perhaps soon, even, there had been a long break between the last two. Then they could actually work. “Yes, I have a few hours after seven.” It wouldn’t do to look too eager. Ivan Braginski did not chase after men. “Great! Wanna go out? Rocker’s has a party celebrating the owner’s daughter’s birthday so they’ll have free booze! See you there at eight!” It better not be punch. “I suppose. What’s the address?” “It’s right next to orthodox church, you’ll find it!” If he found the church. Ivan rarely paid attention to places of worship, and then only to avoid them. Well, he would just Google the place later. Couldn’t be too many Orthodox churches in a city like this. He wondered if Alfred suggested the place because he thought Ivan had an inclination towards the Eastern church. “And hey, you never showed me your badge”, Alfred whined. An adult man, so fixated on badges, how cute. “You didn’t ask.” “Well show it to me tomorrow! You’ll love it”, Alfred said, wiggling his eyebrows so hard they almost rode the electronic waves to Ivan’s desk. He truly did like cops. Alfred was delightfully childish in a way that was funny for a few hours, but no one could take for more than a day at a time. One could only imagine how he had been as an actual child. Ten times as bad, or exactly the same? Maybe some boys never did grow up, as they say. “Only If you promise to stop whining.” “I promise nothing! Come onnnn, I’ll show ya my hose…” Again the eyebrows wiggled and Ivan almost snickered. Such a strange person. How old was he? He had looked a bit younger than Ivan, so maybe thirty or late twenties? A good age, young enough to enjoy fun but not young enough go overboard, old enough to understand life but not old enough to be weary of it. “Well in that case. Will you show me how it works?” “Oh, I’ll show you all right, and let you try…” This time Ivan did snort. “Tone down the eyebrows and I might take up your offer”, he chuckled, making Toris tilt his head in confusion. It couldn’t be that odd to hear Ivan laugh, could it? Surely he had done it in his partner’s presence before. “Eyebrows?” Alfred asked and the eyebrows stopped wiggling. He must have done it instinctively so he didn’t even pick up on it. Ivan wouldn’t be surprised – Alfred hardly seemed the perceptive type. The only things he could think about were probably sex, cheetos and beer. “You want me to pluck ‘em? They’re kinda thin already…” “Nevermind. Just make sure to impress me and you’ll get something good in return”, Ivan smirked, whirling around on his office chair. “Ivan –“ Toris attempted, but a quick hushing from Ivan silenced him and made him go back to studying the badly pixellated security footage. “Oh, do you have company?” “Just my partner. We’re going through some evidence.” Thank you, Toris. Live a little, nerd. “Jeez, you should have said you were at work. Tell me all about it later! Seven at Rocker’s! Bye!” “Bye.” With a heavy sigh Ivan put his phone back in his pocket. Security footage was easily the most mind-numbing part of police work, even worse than paper work, and in homicide investigation it contrasted so badly with the actual interesting part it felt ten times more tedious than in any other department. “Toris, you wouldn’t mind getting me a coffee?” Toris silently nodded and scurried off. The diminutive Lithuanian was an interesting mix of courage and nerves: on the job he wouldn’t flinch even when a gun was pointed at him, but whenever he was alone with his partner, he became a fidgety mess. Brilliant man, great at his job, but very meek. He had joined the force three years before Ivan, and was also that same three years older. They had been partnered seven months ago, after Ivan’s then-partner had been crippled on duty when they had been chasing a suspect. Tragic story, really. She would have survived the car crash with minor injuries, had a freak malfunction not made her gun fire inside the car and lodge the bullet in her spine. One of the finest of the force, she had been. Dedicated, smart.

--

You might have noticed that Ivan goes back and forth with Alfred and Jones – that’s on purpose. He uses Jones whenever he wants to maintain some distance, and Alfred when he forgets to despise all of humanity. Oh Ivan, you’re not nearly as misanthropic as you tell yourself!

Dobroye utro(Дoбрoе утрo): Good morning Alyo( Алё): Hello

Chapter name comes from Ship of Fools by World party. I should probably mention that the song lyrics have nothing to do with the chapter contents, I choose them purely by title. Also the symbolism mostly only makes sense to me:D Don’t mind if you don’t get what I’m going for.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for Thursday, december 17 of 2020 with Proverbs 17 and Psalm 17, accompanied by Psalm 87 for the 87th day of Autumn, and Psalm 52 for day 352 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 3rd revolution this year)

[Psalm 17]

A David Prayer

Listen while I build my case, God,

the most honest prayer you’ll ever hear.

Show the world I’m innocent—

in your heart you know I am.

Go ahead, examine me from inside out,

surprise me in the middle of the night—

You’ll find I’m just what I say I am.

My words don’t run loose.

I’m not trying to get my way

in the world’s way.

I’m trying to get your way,

your Word’s way.

I’m staying on your trail;

I’m putting one foot

In front of the other.

I’m not giving up.

I call to you, God, because I’m sure of an answer.

So—answer! bend your ear! listen sharp!

Paint grace-graffiti on the fences;

take in your frightened children who

Are running from the neighborhood bullies

straight to you.

Keep your eye on me;

hide me under your cool wing feathers

From the wicked who are out to get me,

from mortal enemies closing in.

Their hearts are hard as nails,

their mouths blast hot air.

They are after me, nipping my heels,

determined to bring me down,

Lions ready to rip me apart,

young lions poised to pounce.

Up, God: beard them! break them!

By your sword, free me from their clutches;

Barehanded, God, break these mortals,

these flat-earth people who can’t think beyond today.

I’d like to see their bellies

swollen with famine food,

The weeds they’ve sown

harvested and baked into famine bread,

With second helpings for their children

and crusts for their babies to chew on.

And me? I plan on looking

you full in the face. When I get up,

I’ll see your full stature

and live heaven on earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Message)

[Psalm 87]

A Korah Psalm

He founded Zion on the Holy Mountain—

and oh, how God loves his home!

Loves it far better than all

the homes of Jacob put together!

God’s hometown—oh!

everyone there is talking about you!

I name them off, those among whom I’m famous:

Egypt and Babylon,

also Philistia,

even Tyre, along with Cush.

Word’s getting around; they point them out:

“This one was born again here!”

The word’s getting out on Zion:

“Men and women, right and left,

get born again in her!”

God registers their names in his book:

“This one, this one, and this one—

born again, right here.”

Singers and dancers give credit to Zion:

“All my springs are in you!”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 87 (The Message)

[Psalm 52]

A David Psalm, When Doeg the Edomite Reported to Saul, “David’s at Ahimelech’s House”

Why do you brag of evil, “Big Man”?

God’s mercy carries the day.

You scheme catastrophe;

your tongue cuts razor-sharp,

artisan in lies.

You love evil more than good,

you call black white.

You love malicious gossip,

you foul-mouth.

God will tear you limb from limb,

sweep you up and throw you out,

Pull you up by the roots

from the land of life.

Good people will watch and

worship. They’ll laugh in relief:

“Big Man bet on the wrong horse,

trusted in big money,

made his living from catastrophe.”

And I’m an olive tree,

growing green in God’s house.

I trusted in the generous mercy

of God then and now.

I thank you always

that you went into action.

And I’ll stay right here,

your good name my hope,

in company with your faithful friends.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 52 (The Message)

[Proverbs 17]

Better to gnaw on a bit of dry crust in peace

than to feast in a house full of stress.

A wise servant will be put in charge of a child who behaves badly

and will take a share of the inheritance like one of the family.

Silver is purified in the crucible, gold in the furnace,

but motives of the heart are judged by the Eternal.

Wrongdoers perk up when listening to gossip,

and liars lean in close to hear talk of mischief.

Anyone who makes fun of the poor disparages his Maker,

and those who celebrate another’s misfortune will not escape certain punishment.

Grandchildren are the crowning glory and ultimate delight of old age,

and parents are the pride of their children.

Elegant speech sounds odd when it comes from a fool,

and a lie on the lips of a leader is even more out of place!

A bribe is like an enchanting charm to one who counts on it—

everywhere he looks he sees the illusion of success.

Those who forgive faults foster love,

but those who repeatedly recall them ruin relationships.

A single correction makes a more lasting impression on one who is wise

than a hundred lashes do on a fool.

Evil people are determined to rebel,

and so a merciless messenger will chase them down.

Better to face a mother bear stripped of her cubs

than to encounter a fool caught up in his foolishness.

Those who repay good with evil

bring unrelenting trouble upon their families.

Picking a fight is like leaking water from a crack in a dam,

so walk away from an argument before the outburst.

Both of these deeply offend the Eternal:

one who acquits the guilty and one who condemns the innocent.

Even if fools had the means to obtain wisdom,

they would not be able to benefit from it.

A true friend loves regardless of the situation,

and a real brother exists to share the tough times.

Only a fool shakes hands on a deal

and guarantees repayment of someone else’s loan.

A person who loves sin loves a fight,

and one who builds a grand entrance dares others to tear it down.

Crooked-hearted people never recognize anything good,

and those who distort the truth court disaster.

Having a fool for a child is misery;

there is no joy in parenting a fool.

A joy-filled heart is curative balm,

but a broken spirit hurts all the way to the bone.

A wicked person accepts a bribe under the table

to derail the course of justice.

Those who understand look to wisdom for guidance,

but fools fasten their eyes on some distant horizon.

Foolish children irritate their fathers

and embitter their mothers.

Also know this: It is wrong to penalize those who do what is right

or to lash the noble because of their integrity.

Those with knowledge know when to be quiet,

and those with understanding know how to remain calm.

Even a fool who keeps quiet is considered wise,

for when he keeps his mouth shut, he appears clever.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for Saturday, may 9 of 2020 with Proverbs 9 and Psalm 9 accompanied by Psalm 52 for the 52nd day of Spring and Psalm 130 for day 130 of the year

[Psalm 9]

A David Psalm

I’m thanking you, God, from a full heart,

I’m writing the book on your wonders.

I’m whistling, laughing, and jumping for joy;

I’m singing your song, High God.

The day my enemies turned tail and ran,

they stumbled on you and fell on their faces.

You took over and set everything right;

when I needed you, you were there, taking charge.

You blow the whistle on godless nations;

you throw dirty players out of the game,

wipe their names right off the roster.

Enemies disappear from the sidelines,

their reputation trashed,

their names erased from the halls of fame.

God holds the high center,

he sees and sets the world’s mess right.

He decides what is right for us earthlings,

gives people their just deserts.

God’s a safe-house for the battered,

a sanctuary during bad times.

The moment you arrive, you relax;

you’re never sorry you knocked.

Sing your songs to Zion-dwelling God,

tell his stories to everyone you meet:

How he tracks down killers

yet keeps his eye on us,

registers every whimper and moan.

Be kind to me, God;

I’ve been kicked around long enough.

Once you’ve pulled me back

from the gates of death,

I’ll write the book on Hallelujahs;

on the corner of Main and First

I’ll hold a street meeting;

I’ll be the song leader; we’ll fill the air

with salvation songs.

They’re trapped, those godless countries,

in the very snares they set,

Their feet all tangled

in the net they spread.

They have no excuse;

the way God works is well-known.

The cunning machinery made by the wicked

has maimed their own hands.

The wicked bought a one-way

ticket to hell.

No longer will the poor be nameless—

no more humiliation for the humble.

Up, God! Aren’t you fed up with their empty strutting?

Expose these grand pretensions!

Shake them up, God!

Show them how silly they look.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 9 (The Message)

[Psalm 52]

A David Psalm, When Doeg the Edomite Reported to Saul, “David’s at Ahimelech’s House”

Why do you brag of evil, “Big Man”?

God’s mercy carries the day.

You scheme catastrophe;

your tongue cuts razor-sharp,

artisan in lies.

You love evil more than good,

you call black white.

You love malicious gossip,

you foul-mouth.

God will tear you limb from limb,

sweep you up and throw you out,

Pull you up by the roots

from the land of life.

Good people will watch and

worship. They’ll laugh in relief:

“Big Man bet on the wrong horse,

trusted in big money,

made his living from catastrophe.”

And I’m an olive tree,

growing green in God’s house.

I trusted in the generous mercy

of God then and now.

I thank you always

that you went into action.

And I’ll stay right here,

your good name my hope,

in company with your faithful friends.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 52 (The Message)

[Psalm 130]

A Pilgrim Song

Help, God—the bottom has fallen out of my life!

Master, hear my cry for help!

Listen hard! Open your ears!

Listen to my cries for mercy.

If you, God, kept records on wrongdoings,

who would stand a chance?

As it turns out, forgiveness is your habit,

and that’s why you’re worshiped.

I pray to God—my life a prayer—

and wait for what he’ll say and do.

My life’s on the line before God, my Lord,

waiting and watching till morning,

waiting and watching till morning.

O Israel, wait and watch for God—

with God’s arrival comes love,

with God’s arrival comes generous redemption.

No doubt about it—he’ll redeem Israel,

buy back Israel from captivity to sin.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 130 (The Message)

[Proverbs 9]

Lady Wisdom Gives a Dinner Party

Lady Wisdom has built and furnished her home;

it’s supported by seven hewn timbers.

The banquet meal is ready to be served: lamb roasted,

wine poured out, table set with silver and flowers.

Having dismissed her serving maids,

Lady Wisdom goes to town, stands in a prominent place,

and invites everyone within sound of her voice:

“Are you confused about life, don’t know what’s going on?

Come with me, oh come, have dinner with me!

I’ve prepared a wonderful spread—fresh-baked bread,

roast lamb, carefully selected wines.

Leave your impoverished confusion and live!

Walk up the street to a life with meaning.”

If you reason with an arrogant cynic, you’ll get slapped in the face;

confront bad behavior and get a kick in the shins.

So don’t waste your time on a scoffer;

all you’ll get for your pains is abuse.

But if you correct those who care about life,

that’s different—they’ll love you for it!

Save your breath for the wise—they’ll be wiser for it;

tell good people what you know—they’ll profit from it.

Skilled living gets its start in the Fear-of-God,

insight into life from knowing a Holy God.

It’s through me, Lady Wisdom, that your life deepens,

and the years of your life ripen.

Live wisely and wisdom will permeate your life;

mock life and life will mock you.

Madame Whore Calls Out, Too

Then there’s this other woman, Madame Whore—

brazen, empty-headed, frivolous.

She sits on the front porch

of her house on Main Street,

And as people walk by minding

their own business, calls out,

“Are you confused about life, don’t know what’s going on?

Steal off with me, I’ll show you a good time!

No one will ever know—I’ll give you the time of your life.”

But they don’t know about all the skeletons in her closet,

that all her guests end up in hell.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 9 (The Message)