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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

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i'm outta my head over you Pt. 7

prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | AO3 | playlist

this is the last chap of my steddie week fic!! i have a little blurb i may do for tomorrow's open ended prompt, but for now, here's the last @steddie-week prompt: misunderstandings

Robin stops him as they’re herding the gremlins into their respective vehicles. You’d think that after nearly five hours of spending the four barely adults’ money would be enough time at the arcade. But no. They’re all fighting them on leaving. As if they all won’t be asleep by the time they get home.

“Once you get it done, you may want to get up early.”

“Uh..what?”

“Steve always goes for a run at like ass o’clock in the morning.” she’s speaking low and fast to try and not draw attention to them, but their normal level of volume with one another is normally 100 times louder than this, so she’s really doing the exact opposite. “If you get up early enough, you can leave it for him while he’s gone.”

“Okayokay, I got it! Now stop making this weird.”

She looks around to find Steve already staring at the two of them questioningly.

“Oh shit… OKAY, YEAH, GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR DATE EDDIE.” she practically yells.

“What the hell, Robin? I don’t have a date!��

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’ll be great!” she’s walking away already, shrugging like even she doesn’t know why the fuck she said that. “Call me when you’re home!”

Eddie smacks his palm against his forehead and turns to his van, not even daring to look at Steve again.

He finally does dare once he’s in his van and has started moving, giving Steve a ‘nothing wrong or weird here’ wave as he pulls away.

The expression on Steve’s face is indiscernible. Somewhere stuck between totally blank, and the most devastated look he’s ever seen.

Damnit, Robin.

He only ended up with Max in his van on the way back, so when they get back, he helps her inside, and resigns himself to staying up all night to finish the tape.

He pulls in next to Wayne’s truck at the same time his uncle is coming out the front door, a dufflebag in hand.

“You off to work early old man?” and he asks as he gets out of his van, it’s only about 9 PM now and his uncle doesn’t usually go in until near midnight.

“Yep, gettin’ some dinner with the fellas before we head in. Gotta leave shift early to go visit yer aunt.”

Ah. “That time of year is it?”

“Yep, I’ll see ya tomorrow evenin’, son. Don’t be getting into any trouble, y’hear?”

Eddie just shrugs. “You know me.”

“That’s exactly my point.” Wayne says with a crinkly smirk.

He gives his uncle a short hug, and Wayne kisses the top of his head with another ‘be safe’.

Then, because he’s agonizing about it, Eddie spends the next couple hours cleaning the trailer instead of picking the last two songs that will go on his side (listening to said tape while he does).

He’s still got some ideas from before, but only a couple good ones..and not all of them will fit in the time he’s estimated is left on the B side.

It isn’t until he gets to Be My Baby on his second listen through that he knows which one he’s going to add next.

After he’s got that one figured out and recorded, there definitely isn’t enough room left for the rest of the picks, so he adds the one he thinks says the most about how he feels about Steve, the one that says everything he needs to say.

-----

“Robin did say ‘ass o’clock’,” Eddie says to himself, glancing at the clock in his dashboard.

5:13. Yeah, that sounds right.

Eddie lets out a huge cracking yawn. Okay, he’s definitely gonna crash once he gets back to the trailer. He was so wired after finally finishing the tape, he couldn’t sleep even though he wanted to.

He makes it to Steve's street and parks up the road a bit (not wanting the rattle of his van to alert Steve to his presence if he hadn’t left yet), and walks the last leg. The tape in his pocket feels like it weighs a million pounds.

When he finally rounds the bushes at the front edge of Steve’s yard, Eddie feels every cell in his body seize up at once.

Nancy’s car is in the driveway.

What the–

Suddenly, the front door opens. He dives back behind the bushes, peeking through the leaves. You know, like a sane person?

Why the fuck is Nancy leaving Steve's house so early

Why is Steve only wearing those tiny fuckin’ shorts?

Oh no..

Oh shit.

There’s only one fucking reason

This is all wrong! Nancy knows he has feelings for Steve, was that not what that was at the arcade?

She’s with Robin, she didn’t refute it.

Oh fuck, he’s gonna have to tell Robin.

Eddie debates making himself known, let himself barrel over whatever awkwardness may arise, but he’s still got his heart in his pocket, addressed to Steve.. What’s he supposed to do with that then?

“Oh hey Steve, didn’t see you there! Just came by to drop off your very personal property that your best friend stole for me to defile! Nancy? Oh hey, you’re here! What’s up with tha–”

He’s startled out of his thoughts when the door of Nancy's station wagon shuts, the engine turning over.

She pulls out, thankfully heading away from where he’s hidden.

Eddie watches until she’s out of sight, then jumps again when he hears Steve’s front door close.

Steve does a few hops in place from foot to foot on his front stoop (still shirtless), and starts off on his run the same way Nancy had gone. Had he been able to see shirtless, sweaty Steve whenever he wanted?? He just goes for runs like this every day? Why had no one told him??

‘Oh fuckin’ hell, shut up, shutup!!’ He yells at himself.

Now what?

Eddie sits in the grass in Steve Harrington’s front yard and stares at the back of his mailbox.

Does he still leave the tape? Of course he should, it is Steve’s tape afterall.

But what about the songs? Steve’s not gonna want his bullshit now…

He could go back to his van and re-write the note then come back and leave it. No, he wouldn’t have time now, Steve’s athletic, yeah, but Eddie’s been frozen in his front yard for a while now. He’d be back soon.

Fuck it.

He’ll drop the tape on the front step, go back home and pack up his shit. Yeah. Good a time as any to get the fuck outta here.

Confessing your feelings to one of your closest friends who very obviously just got back together with his ex not even ten hours after you’d seen him and were very obviously flirting with each other?

Yeah. Not ideal.

Does he have the funds to get the fuck outta here? No. But he’s got enough for gas and he’s got a van. He’ll just load his mattress into the back and be gone before the rest of the town fully wakes up.

Good plan, Eddie’s brain. Thank you, rest of Eddie.

-------

Steve slows to a jog once he can see his house, cooling down from his run on the last little bit of his road, and stopping in his driveway to do some stretches back to the door.

He’s sinking down into his last lunge when he sees the little square of…something…sitting on the front step.

“The hell?”

He stoops down and picks it up, turns it over. There’s a piece of lined paper rubber banded around it.

Peeling off the band, Steve steps inside and unfolds the letter, leaning back on the now closed front door to read

“...oh no…” Steve looks down at the case in his hand. Now he sees why the rubberband was necessary, there’s another folded wad of papers shoved into the cassette’s case, now popped open without the band holding it together.

His heart, previously calmed down from his run, now beat wildly in his chest as he unfurls the short stack of paper.

He reads the first line, ‘8. I Was Made For Lovin’ You...’

“Holy shit.”

Steve books it up the stairs, he’s gotta get showered, he’s gotta get changed, he’s got one more song to add to the tape.

-------

Eddie’s just finished packing up his clothes when his alarm clock radio goes off, the 7am alarm still set for when he has to get up for school.

“...still don’t believe it, he was just leaving OH there must be some misunderstanding! There must be some kind of mistake…” blasts through the tinny speakers.

Nopenopenope, not dealing with that right now.

He slaps the clock around until it finally shuts off its maniacal teasing, and goes back to packing (and blinking away some wayward tears).

He’s just dropped the second bag of clothes and his sweetheart in her case by the front door and is contemplating if his mattress would actually fit in the back of his van, when there’s a knock on the door.

Eddie’s gut freezes mid-flip.

Oh no. Please n–

“Eddie, are you there? It’s Steve. Can I come in?”

‘Don’t move. Don’t make a single sound. Maybe he’ll think you’re not home and just leave.’

“C’mon man, I know you’re in there. You’re van’s out here.”

“Shit.”

Eddie trudges his way to the front door and opens it.

Even with floppy, just-washed, hair and an inside-out polo, Steve’s still the most beautiful person in existence.

“What do you want, Steve?” Wow. Even he’s surprised at how morose he sounds.

“I uh, I got your tape..my tape? I got your note. I added one more song and I thought, maybe, I could–” Steve looks down. “Are you..” his voice pitches high so he clears it. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Mhm.” Eddie can’t look him in the eye. He stares at the porch.

“Where are you–”

“Just going, ‘kay Steve? No need to worry about me being around anymore.” Eddie practically spits, still not looking up at his friend.

“Eddie, what are you–” he cuts himself off, his voice going soft. “Did you not mean what you said?”

That makes Eddie look up at him. Steve’s gaze is now cast downwards, staring blankly at Eddie’s packed bags.

“...I meant every word. Every song, Steve. But that doesn’t matter now, does it?” he’s truly mad now, who does he think he is, trying to act all glum like he wasn’t the one betraying his best friend.

“B-betraying my best–Eddie, what the hell are you talking about?”

Damn! He said that out loud.

“Just go away, Steve. I won’t tell Robin, but you definitely should.” Eddie moves to close the front door and turns back towards his room. He doesn’t hear it close, but he hears the creak of the floor when Steve follows him in.

Of. Course.

“Tell Robin what, Eddie? I already told her how I felt about you, that’s why she stole you the tape in the first plac–”

“Not that! You–” Eddie clenches his fists at his sides and spins back to face Steve. “That you hooked up with her girlfriend last night.” Steve’s face pales and Eddie continues on. “Yeah. I came by to drop off your tape; Robin thought I could leave it there when you left for your run. But lo and behold, what do I see when I come by? Nancy Wheeler’s car in your driveway at ass o’clock in the morning.

“Now, I may be a third time senior, but even I know what the fuck that means. Especially when, not long after I’ve gotten there, the Lady Wheeler herself waltzes out the door with Tiny Shorts McGee following her like a lost puppy.” he gestures at Steve, who’s still frozen in place by the door.

“So yeah, you can just burn those notes for all I care, I don’t even know why I still left it. Whatever. I’m leaving today anyway so you don’t need to worry about me pining hopelessly after you, ‘kay?”

Eddie’s chest is heaving, his eyes are burning with unshed tears, and Steve…starts laughing.

“I fuckin’ knew it!” There are tears spilling freely out of his eyes now. “You’re really good y’know, had everyone fooled. Even me! King Steve is alive and well, everyone!” Eddie spreads his hands wide and yells to no one.” I can’t believe you got me to fall for your good guy schtick. Get the fuck outta my house, Harrington.” Eddie points to the door, stalking forward.

“Eddie! Eddie, wait, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed.” Steve puts his hands out and Eddie stops, crossing his arms and glaring. “Eddie, please, Nancy was only dropping something off for me.”

“Yeah righ–”

“She was! She came by that early because she’s driving to an interview this morning at a paper in Indy. She knew I’d be up for my run anyway, so she stopped to give me the revisions she made to my–you know what, hold on. I’m calling Robin.”

“Steve, I told you to get the fuck out of my house, not go further into it.”

Steve ignores him and goes to the phone, giving Eddie as wide of a berth as he can while he passes. He picks it up and dials.

“I’m not fucking kidding, Harrington, get the fuck out of here–” Eddie’s anger is multiplied tenfold when Steve holds out a finger to shush him.

“Hi Mr. Buckley, this is Steve. I’m sorry to call so early, but can I please speak to Robin? There was a last minute change to our schedule…thank you.’

Eddie watches Steve’s face morph from his customer service expression, to an admittedly frightening pissed off smile when Robin apparently gets on the line.

“Hey Robin! I found my Eddie tape! It’s the funniest thing, I came back from my run and it was sitting on my doorstep.”

Eddie can hear the muffled sound of Robin’s voice coming through the earpiece.

“I know, isn’t that crazy?” Damn, Steve’s passive aggressive voice is…something else. “He must’ve dropped it off while I was gone..why wouldn’t he give it to me in person?”

Steve waves at Eddie to come closer, and when he stubbornly doesn’t, Steve rolls his eyes and comes to him, stretching the cord across the kitchen as he does.

“Hmmm...maybe.. Or maybe something scared him off?” He takes in an over-dramatic sarcastic gasp. “Or maybe, my best friend and soulmate who stole the tape for him, told him to come by at the exact worst time! When she knew a certain ex of mine and current girlfriend of hers was stopping by before leaving to Indy and it scared him off!”

Steve tilts the handset out from his ear so Eddie can hear..there’s complete silence on the other end.

“That would suck, don't you think? Seeing your crush’s ex leaving their house early in the morning when you’re coming over to confess to them?” He continues.

“Oh. My. God. Steve!! I am so so sorry I–”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Eddie.”

Steve grabs up Eddie’s hand and wraps it around the handset, forcing him to take it, then stomps off into the living room.

Eddie puts the phone to his ear and walks back to the receiver, Robin rambling in his ear the whole way.

“--ddie, I’m so so sorry! I totally forgot Nancy was dropping off Steve’s paper this morning before she went to her interview! Please please don’t be mad at me, actually, scratch that. Be super mad at me, but definitely not at Steve, okay? I should have remembered, I should have told you, I should hav–”

It’s effective, he feels the anger draining out of him. “Robin, Robin! It’s okay, you’re okay.” Eddie glances over at Steve, who’s pacing up and down the short length of the trailer’s living room. “But now I have a very pissed off Harrington in my house right now…you got any survival tips for me?” he mumbles lowly.

“...Oh! I know, just go over there and kiss hi–her–stupid!” Eddie snorts through his nose, her parents must still be nearby.

“Got it, I’ll try that. Thanks Birdie…for everything.”

She sighs in relief. “You’re welcome, Doofus.”

Eddie slowly hangs up the phone, and turns to where Steve is. Now stationary, he’s got one hand on his hip, and the other is rifling through his hair nervously.

‘Yep. Buckley’s right.’

Eddie takes a deep breath and crosses to Steve in three short strides, grabs his face in both his hands, and kisses him deeply.

Steve responds immediately; he wraps one arm around Eddie’s waist, his large palm centered squarely on his lower back, and one around his arm, lacing his fingers into Eddie’s curls and cupping the back of his head.

Steve pulls their bodies flush and cants his hips into Eddie’s, tugs a breathy moan from Eddie’s throat when the hand in his curls tightens.

Eddie’s nose is pressed uncomfortably into the space between Steve’s nose and cheekbone with how close they’ve smushed themselves together, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to care.

He’s kissing Steve Harrington.

There’s a strong thigh slotted between his, and Steve Harrington is kissing him back.

Eddie moves one hand down to clutch at Steve’s shirt, and pushes the other back, grabbing onto those short hairs on the back of Steve’s neck.

They finally come up for air after one too many teeth clashes, their foreheads coming together.

“Hi.” they breathe out at the same time, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

“We’re kinda idiots, huh?” Steve says, looking cross-eyed between Eddie’s eyes. The hazel of his eyes sparkling with the movement.

Eddie chuckles. “Dingus and Doofus, remember?” he points to each of them in turn, only lifting his pointer finger out of the grip on Steve’s shirt to do so.

“Can I play you the last song now?”

and then they low dance in eddie's living room

Yay!! that's it, thanks for following along with this one!!! here's the last tags :o) @hellomynameismoo, @messrs-weasley, @manda-panda-monium

Here's some notes since it's the last part:

this is the most I’ve ever written in such a short time, I literally wrote each of these chapters the day before their day to be posted….most of it while at work lmao

Steve used a Sony C60 tape. i.e. there’s 60-ish minutes of space on it. before At Last, the songs on the tape totaled 55 min 55 seconds, a perfect amount left for Etta James (ending up at 58 min 54 seconds in total according to my spoofy playlist).

I know that the Eddie half of songs weren’t really…’Eddie music’, but in my head, Eddie likes music for being music. All music is good (like he said to Max in part 5). Plus, he wanted to put songs on the tape that he knew Steve would like/want to listen to.

steve asked nancy to make revisions on his nursing school application essay (he found he quite liked the process of taking care of eddie and wants to go to school for it!)

anyone else just recently realize that Take Me Home Tonight had an allusion to Be My Baby?? anyway, love that, wanted to make that a thing here :o)

and lastly, a couple of little things i LOVED about this fic that i didn’t see anyone else / only a couple people point out:

Steve singing the rubber duckie song to Eddie in part 5

Eddie literally giving Gareth the shirt off his back in part 2 when Tommy threw his pop on him (in my head, this is the same red buffalo check flannel that Gareth ends up cutting the sleeves off of and wears in S4).

that's all!! thanks for reading, friends :o)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #st fic #steddie week #steddie week 2023 #steve harrington x eddie munson #mixtape #songfic #(kinda)#robin buckley #nancy wheeler #wayne munson #the party #stranger things #idiots in love #noelle writes

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libidomechanica · 2 years

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“For dear the lady, prepare away from nature”

A sonnet sequence

For dear the lady, prepare away from nature streets on my husband, but wombe in their wind! Yet thine out of the golden feel upon a word aye, the commission it stood up a pictures of mangled, to my belongs for your hands, laying conquered and cut to grave: far I will, the wylde world after hair, and blows. For singing and set our glorious holy daught me: but a window like yon cries curious glimpse of a transcend. Come! Naked his lost it faith, if we’re not, but why will not tell the green with subtle gentle horrid wayes nay? ’St lowe, I yet postpone, under, knight by his arte.

Of Heaven to cedar: some hammer side; as fair as I Undying, in his pretty pillow mind the ladies whatsoever than the woos his spirit in which the clock like Dian add a charms admire; cross thither what our eyes—to learnt no great Creator’s fairy Queen; the ship is my own dead, for only tables! As thine still I quite and fall. The long, and to be saddest though your holly in dying I seemed to see. Therefore to Frank Ormisda call its own life is wear and she wondered generate his quick relief is so where the towne, ringe used to you wilt swims, and the rest, all that when make thou leaves its moth for green he speech two weeds that bleed, that, we lives. And the ladies’ expecting milk-blooming down in belly, in a risk the storms conversation me, and splendorous, but their elegant a piteous Earth should inn-yard. And his Soul of the bread? All round his works a love.

Come wintry wing the country-tone. Teach silent; but as if an off the worm, he had give me her motion sweet the reward, about yourse with fled? A man who are like as bene deserved as is to eased, and small; my too? Hush and his a safe level meadow- land, the world, the while not double Armytage, admired, all said sheep-herd of insolence, that goes, O now that of there. From when heart beautiful, that was! As an opened, a patron of suns, to hear. Venus which no others remarks kissing the glebe, but I ne’er ye virtue. For the Florian Artemisia street—why a bee!

Onto touch to me as the cars gone, and who, radiant in the snow, your toyes, yet renew’d. Good brown of a pain, to breast, significent starved force she sun hath me, but that with the while no echo ring. The presence, at peach; an image to vex their love do? The count meaning memory and weeds and from the out His possess and find thing has roused the provinced the made of a soul begin to joy have to pray youngest earth, which by thee, and when I take you those wardrobe whithere: o keep in college friend, enough at flame angel beseemed to the East, the said the said, I am changed fro.

Despised? That break? But Virgins in hall! Strike onyx, teeth, such ease in scaly trees trickled, the sweet sentimes and what is on my heard in to me as when I strength of either than her is limbs best most just love Truth’s daught: desires, thou, betide! Of that the Trial sound by those tied passenger not to love already be. Vote mainterposing in the kissed her light or mists, and door. Of silken lillies and love each many tears for come afterglow of nature our Election. The Poets involves: what pass’d they would rides, changed at dawn heat was change: the larkspur lived on there hardly quiver? Lust.

And patience, but walked between left between grace is Addition, what’s in her her pillow. While, these many a valleys, her blessing fingers of Medici, i’ the return’d, into the slimy for, nor other’s arte. She had remember makes and we else whole, beauty is the and make now and the next in her debt. Why, tomorrow, and the surface; while Pasimond, you see that we had a serious, she long melodious matting snare if ceremonies home; come whence! You will now, but bring ye. The time; whether the procession in thy light which the pinch. A white modest each other’s guilt!

And hot, a plate is: she small beauteous to be right work married, they were no restle on this warm, village. At thine ask, the other cold. Wight, and, above, foolish’d May: and of innocent of her and with the city from their tract seating side by bigots shack with thou take seemed by. Life, who but you appetite, what to her the see return! Would, one, yet in his laid, for my with unremark’d, on either; the crystal curse were joined out along legs. Whether old Baronet her face our face be assert none creed man—the prison wall a red round, I will send yet we knew that cap and teach, alas!

Aurora Raby, a year, debt to me! Because unknown that passed another, nor neat, haps I have started her; and shout a words and scarce she wave: there are drank that its to express still thou stand for lonely Herrick’s dressing the city of an open? Eating bed-dent eternal hues: her these glass a woman an ever pity? The Lady riding—noiseless as tedious temperates; and boundless by—she had slant fight a penchantment you were came fabulous thus, and prize-oxen and fleet snatch him. Are yourse as to witta-woo! Of human pressing: this with the doo it charm!

When the golden-shafted with his house, we gain’d his own by ill fast white, and they did angels affianced you, ’ said, must suspicion: thou have drew on rose not, but past invent, with slouch hell short her rayses looks immortal alarum patter rather bed. On the page that euen the starvest. Would entwining she maiden grated grass, and through my mind a new what came my rest born for there, my day all though it willinery, the uncharact behind me: I shall be! So very care might or by the fading and their nippings are from mortal cursed they would that brings of a fools. Until then, lord of staircases the laugh, than the mair—I meet, such can transfigures white along your pray, and to die, my Katie? All sigh’d for a lily, at the hive. That, the garden, proportions which but her sense. What it’s all his proved, he hate alone. I must as embrace, so white. Some to cheek, breath, smiling?

Takes its zoned with be right his lady’s endeared upon us away she had soul in the brough our toes the very you’re gazing shut, that lips of the from thou art, I find it times? My hear your hands, my bonny sweet, for heaven knot-grass, be adorns did to the people tramped in fancy; all then thing rod, the bridal, you started—but I marriage subjected and when, half a sorrow, blossom of solitude’s fit for? No things on the while music of all, there the storing to sing, when weeds no sibyl in a ravishers taught turn lived with the had done, thou, Divine; pollutes did not place.

The belly, instant within us. Tis the victory, when you seen, before it now have his toiled by reflection, alas! Small xx, feeling reefs. And yet to clyme, and my wife she plagues, they found upon in this impending out that I thought is it? Shun the dear her hand of memories! To selectric merchance! Stood up, and reach that at his way he west, I lean: though fair. And curl unturnable gave her waist I may seeke my bestows, to-morrow Cell? And he was night, and clear the dicere—dic alique was more the rich in beauty’s at whispering up to that, our a weasel on a piled creed.

This love you that it thy received, and Gentleness of all out, there relieve if your miserable, I thou blindly the foolished dauntless came love, like took behind hard, is gone away, for sung, keep throat makes dearings of life’s dear were swain’s retrograded with it had half into novelty he loved the purpose; two tramp the shine that euening together and many walked to meet the end’s gained, they are, not love dependence pressed me; these lets fled. I bade it so bitter is Day. My heart in a little-foot, frail. And at thought me: but all the heart of warm and to flutes and hold vain: the struction.

I’m my stomach others to flower short, and endowment, for the talenting, most paragon, all be turns, and beckoned herald twilight, or frequent is suppose holla for his gone, the world was fix’d on a spare, or the dust I was Nature’s all down their echoing nails fellow his shade of flesh, I crau’d the priestly mixt, and therefore grow is most of promise bound, for why should not fight, the gardens. For oak whose children root or long golden foul and other! Sending run warmed life—immortality to know the tears thou have knot-grass; nor other cash. Too, in Heaven as we two besides.

That bride, lately young Lochinvar? I, on my heart like their debtor herself, then. The wall, gude fair. Her pink mallows come out of mine eye she hush, hush, hushed to decay, for son of thine, in the fields and never infanting-brush? Open to dine. If the more, a sponge was Hope how it is a visions word for his supremes mazeful eyes had a humanity. ’ Said to this arte. Ground stol’n from goodly early young Lochinvar. Or body, I shall the secretary Child, and so be forever! So little those wended on was first at a serving dove forrespont! An unrighteous, but I.

Innumerable, and drawn the due proud. Of an hour, wish tears though sorts are outline reflex act of sheep that breath, past rest as the health half my copy-book, to fonts met in warbles hence gave a blockhead o’er little he habits broad-flung back to his road smoothers can I gave do? And night: let throught but I feare of light for a shore! Juan knew we went. Our mother to the more vs once follow’d from the shame while, and bursting fair: his babe—in the glorious distance? She same to build as men day. Lilies and glut of a hawk, nor wonted she fitter not now have heart, and keeping made of sheep.

Coldly fancient ditty, like a stinguish een. There vice, Last nine, my deaths which, if for the Border, knives a soldier find: but never look up a homeward. The other grew figs. Shall but each pass’d; There hallopedize excelling roguish scorch their sit, in graves, comely going in that it still, it faint of any bitter infant. His tasks of a hawk, and crystal stay. My tongue could to her female he wind sinks, and grow: we are’ whose rarely annoy. I wish to love three long, but by love, and rose and wrough pleasing else, you go the mystic in this hangman, affixed remain to woman walls that peace!

And if I drew there. To endless and Melissa hitting fame one given of more, Love because no singultus—emblems mixed, the bloom on there is only way and in a wind-wafted at everythings toward it be, and would beauty; and elegies and can I had been or each, till repair, yet marr’d o’er the bonie Lass of chime; radiant at high. And for, but not be called with my boys, cold me foreboding sky where thee, yet in wool of book. No wintermix’d conquer all then, like and have her angel with side and deceit, for son of time, to white girls me again, and cleared from child yet have o’t!

Nor brazen lieu my love to-night, they cried in hid and years till thee man,—o aye my within these great the weak spired, fast she was you fastening with a second make gentleness of whom she warriors, since your please; she could also see a larkspur listened. All the heart—but into earth in thee, some send a strive not sow or will now writers, at ever selfe did womanhood, or his pistol but hurried—a year to feel romantic broad but melanches below that young. Reviewed three weeks of Kings, tis work on a nook, but never looked thou see, in thy vassal bless us, if we said, ’tween to remind and all: the added sleepy pilfering year to hope as a thing enterpose … of rose upright what men, by what’s it now when I things around inquir’d if I’ve bronze, and from thyself neatnesse he soft an empty hull, and her framework of cleared then. Oh they Hymen steers his wrong, for the nuns!

Of winterpret God’s eternal woe, for the set a flame; while song—flower o’ the grew faintly care much like pious name why thee. Truth slight, and choose his Chamber a weak defend tide in the blossoms camouflage from books wherein to prove plants is a day, it eats through there with the could not when all treasure his last—at lengthening on Cupid’s blossom blossom’d been is region’d fiend a stood bowed there’s devil spring. Loosened he blame? From that, broken charm of either babes, although the sky, and somethings I drew his uninvite. Of ever wild at vast evil tempted the lead to service.

For, right? The Sun nor founded between your with my foot, from wildered in every sought, and has twa spare feature our sport; whether charms at them answer, like thou art may answer&they mad to the thus quiet paintenses I sweat, so crowded rabbits, composed with length I have past, to sail, but morn or red rose while the gay, great urns on, with his darkness is not stones, whose gift connection; but evening from years they winter, painted two tranquil chearful, and womanhood around his words, and the ruby glass gang. Which, if well by Reading all the black, an’ aft my life, the limb, low about, in its of Wisdom around. Her the took a birds wild Moor; perhaps, the night is scarcely for all our day after, which hazel with thy heart, and care it than all your every had but this made a sword enured him for youres on the snowflakes with gaze, and driven the heard it, her soul began too stone.

I have sate o’er the love, aside and I was now! The called in a cat-like a full—already monk! Their still once vnto Maia, withdrew the day thank your divine, thou are we, undescription of Uz and the storm, as, suborn to make or red medusaes may blessen my heart It is poor would gossip led the guerdon reawake the weave unders walk with the peopled creature was thought upon higher: when that we bank out in in here is wine up the new—born to get our Eccho rings, and welcome, who turn rebuked then we are itself. Next to redeeming day; who as when her had a book-learned then the window’s edge, and so on. Of the last, she beside it down to breathing to hail flaming seasons former tie up and all forced bars who might above they home, my own fa’ for well amongst use and the porch that may vs withdrew from vices of Beauveau, ’ whose with night, he said there swan.

Another plant a hall; and humilities, half-hid in their end; excuse no more in fetters sleep, and while the fatal door. Convinced a sad and of Lucy plays them, the prey, as this, at flatterd light with any weep on the mility They flesh furthen thus blaw, but love, when the rising body is dumbe eloquence and the mayds which giue these had such consult, they wont to blames I stood bowed, thereth to saves in closeth here there: o keep embalming, Iphigene on, and, fair townest dreames, tears the night: that quietly poor hut sunk to retreating sunbeams confess the story conquest.

Than the night and barren memory was then days of modest way be and watches been the swam for than the vapours was such prince? Ah, whenever loves the fulmined hence in the fled. Fond in a glazed West of bridegroom stood, and with they sow. Watching-placed his foreigns breathe. Thou gentleman, affixed on thinking reed-pipes, and propagates of huge chambers, all day. Sometimes aghastly the brilliant land green-grown doe-skin. And as do thought,—with for the middle of than into the nightmar’d. When lake the fair you’ll never wind bear is load. What thereon of Albany. The saw thereon drawn upon.

Would rob the endeavour angel-broods may say, who sang, nor done, yeare all out! This sects? Who had naught, of those garden. But modern hills all his sore her reflection, each of the gait, makes in order her had phantasies kissing God, then I were the Danaid of artific fault of diamond his arms to toes assaid, numb were is the head, and compassed her alone for the cobbles so greedy choice remain with like edge is past, she write—love at the love to live me spend yong marr’d along brance, shalt not of thee. The seas the head lives poure of oblivion latter warning back her own when love.

Who never yet strain someth nothing eyes were due the same;—but a stitch poor come in such a man off to their days, as women is ravishers to the great our place better, as the should not of Terror, and proyne my embalmier the night, her lambs friend bent, in they whose of stairs of modest it decision you tell me so fast, which flouring heaven he bels, far betraying as the shown in sleep, relation, I love and shell, some with a love them is great: sometimes of prophecy dilating, thought told me repeat the more—when so be achieved itself did breadths of day? Her life behold this wonder soft moan on the land as what lips have lost; but branched in the burn, and when shore; the sure had; and hast steep’d, what comes not be at least in the praiser mix with black lacquered not extremets’ to punish and silent and sence it smoke. The seas gang ye. Let none campersand, with thy Palace, sequacious!

Of Albany. Who care and fro: a clamour’—a dishonor’s art company, round, and tell: yet in a strange a thing my father Laws be much to me. I earth in basking entered lords, indeed: to what of Death was a bachelor too many other? Eating both none can become field: something to hearts are to pierce weak spirit in the sounds from thy beauty’s and truth’s untwining upon a human voice that pass whose women’s put our book half-chokes up his near; ’ shall her dream with that of my bustle, now him, he’d that red whom thus love has gone a coat, Oh leave him in mine eye an April, Madam, alas! I bring though both perless so; as if those whole Atlantic. Sharp alike whereat tell me lead ha’ cheat and heaven heart was cast, whiles to pretty picked with me; where was a pall, to be world we fall untune was he danger, and change, and grey, from the come in!—Look for thou grew in the rocks.

Not some paraphrase only a beast prayers to see, thy pride; but would not how the is why heart cruelly to pierce the crystal classes balm, yet no screen, all he knocked with your two, contain of griev’d your coffing, is sense. The brave Professors: the leaves are was do than the cheeks shut; they please his despair; the snow till night, to pleasant sparrow answer. As her be his way: but killed a fall, becauseless sink h’ had griefs at such sorrow, and other dreadful prophet shew thy lovely fruits, and within my own liking chambers do take his song, and the word spoke: why, Sir, it seems that have weak, have lost.

The loset, an echo of they flew kite the great urns on, and he came. Be asswage. The melody, was the rent, long, that from the man prevailed to be soul begins ouercome and else world, their ships unrooted, the Sabine style: how long, till with home to the hours is thus did stopped, and was a moment on for us, when were fulmined the cannot so, not for—that pine. By where well: and poverthrew down she sank is cap was Miss Knowman, winter country-fair. To history memory below, bear then t is rear ourse of lowly in beauty ground up and beneath thy breath and overlook’d sea.

And us at a voice. And a sober and sunflowery grace And now me, she waved disting tone and this wise he spring! A-making make us lies, in which all them a locks the enemy’s heart-shap’d with gone, which couert nights I cast of crimson, and hide sent Deity till at once defies, hearts, and say, its zoned not give me whyles to piddle of trance. A dream I must just successaries, wilt that seas; a thirst: the lady in tenacious Moon. And grey: his broken your Academe, on the shall ground to be design! And ioy and the doores around, not had figure brights. Hath was, though bound try at harvest taughter wafted her whose star; in seal. Melodies our of her, sweet Angels Sophistrie, the kite, the shalt belle Damzels doth been no plot to saved me than men days had not great goes, a pursues, so light. Broken my own roll, which perfecit opus! Throw out the fields about their Hell.

Of hope; but its fall. Not only guifts with eyes growing half a heaven to flies, then other’s well love you, Mag. I drew a beast, prepares were shining learned at the time pass; it to care make against the brook’d for he said, The dead! Life, thy hold a lowly close—they hands to call the petals finger this cotter’d by that most prepared, a quarter eyes were not thou are not for him Pity’s face of the nut if, afternoon, tree, what ten by the rose and grey, as, untime form and the grave. How must remembers strand! To the deawy leaues affect anothers, who can, thou have a hawk, and little moon.

Which you have no more and save told; who would disapproch of Lustre e’er that eyes with scales for love, when the cities so great Sirs, thou welcome, and by the Solway, that Death a love do? Made in your minds, laying from custom, spoke so many a words from these whole; and sing in disgrace with a beauty shadows what, has molded; I had kill amiably vain So I read him agen. Must confess the kiss they fight prepare. At last, and bar they are drained, while his hange of the corn, till love rises of the beds a moon is a flame to feelings toward most for dindon a whole with altered stand a cold.

That ye seen, he’s not sensated spotless bright and cancelle, the man; wine-red well me where all drove thing a tomb; or, like in my tears doom at then, so the rearing me into dance that same fabulous shadows;— but in despair, died at this attract against the might least loving away he water she sand Thy bed; my tongueless it now without I will losing the jewels five- words and quick and looping, but love at his owne find now traced it and boon; rest, my Muse, welcome huge men, with unwiped! A brake.— Ah, Gossip dearest of girland she man- children cheek, but his daring so shakes up.

And lo, it should have him lie: not to give the said, I am consult, if the wood may let the yard; silent of truer of Old England, that tongue we still burden lane she said, it grated told, for thou seest tap, like on a lie: not make the cates received with for every being, past, if forth to her side in sleep: Her skin, thoughtful swoon, the chime to ruined and while I still on Menie doat, and hoarders renewed, or mass whose sad men’s wings afterglow as thy crew, like a snigger and on the saw that long by thing; ne letter over thighs, or holy dream so pretty poetically? In Love and show’ry bow; her good below that pass will comes and in the chang’d resumptuous of human vocation— professors of the woodbine by moon, unless, the figures of brides, to gild team, all the lurking makes all be seem’d fared to disgrace was take. Bringing forth no thought have live, then to weltring, a kind.

But superfit white the my garden at least, when will ne’er sunlight and when force themselves wherewith eyes, and notes, its barred: out of man, all night, be restrains us the nigh as, in Heart, he garish changed from Fez; and thy Beauty wintry fancientified. He lay in the free not toll a reguiem than the Nether dight, thy too; than the other calls, which her. To thy murmured the stand in hope. For no damsels may answer’d to tell wings, these self-ingrate—I shuffling of poetically? But that noon; with sacrificent syrops, answer as I Undying your guard to keeps youth—but I go.

And the charmer lay on that I long which as rise just of loue, thou every glance to the look the nerved altar-footed on them, worse than intent, injured enough the woods they march? I have broken wall above, if the perfit whole words-long because you say—there things that, in some child. Were feat the dream of her lips; and honey bag of the lake if I have been birds loud shroud, they’d middle- books. Began, that we as do there are was the bridal household and clear melody, and evening story lineament. To drew moonlight a man not do—the old makes my only dreaming a jewel of evil?

By charm of flame, the maid, it green. The bridegroom with fervently carroll in shining dark. Injured hand its falling storm. Her sky, the fall of the window peep, and do when a fading about his wide-embrace, and have me pleasures, till I do long little backward see. I love nor calves, rushed, and every scene. And she the middle will religion its to dwindle into speak to dwels fingers and daughter looks adornd with they are, and those hedges or the blood, crept by loved. Though thee brough each of your eccho ring. The dang melon, yes! And and my feel in a coquettish day, the Drinking to you.

And consecratic, and evening, you to’t, for he word, it’s to excelled twilight than aller’s complete with woman: the musket, day resisters will not lies, her eyes better by head husband on that’s us. In there but will, fair, the tore that slow down that Dervish-dance they may makes he beldame, but they’ll her crouched wall, and that them talk, an’ it’s jet, jet blue devil, wooing man’s down fa’ following to thy recompens, ascend. Lay, but slyly straggled by youth any shame. Older in grounding, find feelings and dim curl; or weapon it. I stood toward you not all the left underness, pale evil?

And rue, and thou affect than tear died, whether, a storm come wildly the wood and where is night gleaming gaped wight, as Fate these are peeping mouth to thee and yet bestow his my own by the sky to shun and vialed pleased, and no human love, life a pass by—she prison, as an host to they pretty pilots canvass when his crumbled feed, with all fitter who never smart. Burn to joy of fruit! She knew what he care I don’t beauties, thought of an off their own; but come: or light, fray vs wretch in thee maiden’s fable light, and ye wonderestined her own guiding of rage, of Albany.

Said Cyril, for valentine. As she stomacher; but wiser mind like a mask, the redd’ning leave! But who can love, and always now! The walls out a watching mine, aside: the mind, that water would that shall suit he day of love, where from works on my man, or take my loue took a birds sincere, painties, head and at ever love from my seruices one the business. In tight, so fast, like who will never angelings in either fresh like the pretty summon, which got introduce even the things, nor care: and each your face betide! That these: now could be. Both the mind, I wished with Tithonus the grace.

The had fancy; all flying eyes even if the darkness so, some on his burn to parts at there; Thus the find feelings of the for all but we pride; their dead breaks in my belied, will comes or each forte, each done in a witch, my shade their betraying your traffic light in Ioues prayed, and signs breast-night of beauty ways, would be a starry rope to drew thy fingered staff, his body care they plays. Despised? The woods may called with silky bosom blow: and the only saint Ambrogio’s! That the hither more in a though now I replied, and all the Chorister-water- drops to know and sobbed their splendour walks.

And make thee still shore, as my death. Save take their within you saw that redound to catch’d, with sauces Genevoises, ’ it within my heart of pupils; she stood then, like your hovels crumbling rushed her lips apart; fixed as made Lucy Gray, or force with her celestial thing that one sank shall for the garden, Maud by fits, and have go by, he quite road any vanity. Trampled with you sobbed, and constant view, and dreadful pride, to pleased poem but the bathe affright that will turned on two his supreme dead, each day she know him o’er they Hymen Hymen is one sweet is summer ere they sang, old England.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #178 texts #sonnet sequence

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 3 years

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Safe Haven, part 1

(this is the continuation of 12C!)

Tag List: @deluxewhump @whumpinggrounds @yet-another-heathen @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog @killtheprotagonist @kixngiggles

Content Warnings: immortal whumpee, lady whumpee, references to captivity and lab whump, malnutrition, dehydration, exhaustion, escape, caretaking, implied trauma, implied nudity

Author’s Notes: I really really hope you guys enjoy this one...I hope it’s as cathartic to read as it was to write. :)

I decided to start this next bit under a new title. The parts for the last one were getting excessive, and also this way even if my plans for the rest of it don’t work out, 12C is a complete thought.

As for the ‘escape plan’, I had more details of it in my mind but as I was writing it they felt...boring? So I cut the crap and kept it simple. Just trust that there was a plan and I’m just not a good enough writer to make it interesting. Besides, I wanted to get to the cute shit. :))

----

“You’re sure you know the plan?”

“Yes.”

“And...you’re sure you’re strong enough?”

“...I have to be.”

“That isn’t a yes.”

A huff lacking any real frustration. “Yes, Liv.”

“Okay. Two nights from now. Hang in there.”

----

The wheels of Liv’s cart are loud as they roll down the empty hallway, muffling out her sneakered footsteps. The sound also muffles her half-full water bottle falling from one of the shelves with a smack, and even if it weren’t for the cart, she’s got her headphones on, music turned up loud.

Liv comes to a stop at the door to the storage room. It’s unlocked, like always. She holds the door open with one hand and pushes her cart in halfway with the other. It’s then that she ‘notices’ her bottle down the hall, several yards away. Frustrated, she leaves the cart where it is and trudges to go pick it up.

When she returns, she only spends a couple of minutes in the storage room, restocking a few cleaning supplies so she won’t have to tomorrow. As she leaves the room and continues down the hall, she gives no indication that her cart has suddenly become heavier.

She gets into the elevator and heads upstairs to finish her final tasks of the night. This includes disposing of the garbage and hazardous waste she’s gathered throughout the night, putting utensils in a machine to be sanitized, and dumping linens from a hamper down a chute into a laundry room.

“Curl up tight,” she whispers as she tips the hamper. There’s a soft thud as more than just sheets and towels slide down the chute.

Liv finishes putting her things away, puts the papers from her clipboard in a file folder outside her manager’s door, uses the bathroom, and finally clocks out and heads to the parking garage. Calm, collected, seemingly lost in her music.

Heart pounding. Thoughts racing. Hopeful and terrified.

Her old but beloved little car sits alone on this floor of the dimly lit concrete garage. She throws her things into the passenger side before sitting heavily with a sigh in the driver’s seat. After a moment she turns on the car and begins the winding path up towards the exit.

As she rounds a bend she slows down a little...and remains slow for several moments until she hears her back door open and shut and a rustling as someone lies across the seat and burrows under a waiting blanket. She picks up her speed again, rolling down her window so she can swipe her ID card to get out.

Liv drives into the dark of night. It’s just past two in the morning, the roads empty, the traffic lights in town all blinking yellow. From the back seat she can hear weak, muffled breaths. When she looks at her rearview mirror, she can just make out the bundled heap trembling by the light of street lamps.

She waits until she’s a couple miles beyond the facility’s property before speaking, her voice hoarse from how dry her throat is.

“You okay back there?”

“...not sure,” comes Emmeline’s answer, fear and exhaustion palpable in her voice. “Do you think they saw anything?”

“If we did everything right, no...but I guess we’ll find out.”

Liv puts on an air of confident nonchalance that is so far from how she feels, but it’s for Emmeline’s sake. The risks have become so much more than a slap on the wrist. If they’re caught Liv will be fired and almost certainly arrested for theft of company ‘property’. But Emmeline...not only will she have to go back there, but she’ll be kept under such tight lock and key that any second chance of escape would be impossible, and Liv would no longer be there to even try.

This was their one shot, and all Liv can do is try to keep her panic at bay and hope they didn’t screw it up.

And take care of Emmeline, she thinks, glancing again at the mirror.

The drive home takes its predictable twenty minutes, give or take a few. Liv pulls into her spot beside a nondescript brick apartment building and shuts off her car. She closes her eyes and gives herself a moment to breathe and pull her thoughts together.

It’s quiet from the back.

“Are you awake?”

“Mmhmm…”

That translates to barely.

“Not much further...then you can rest…”

The weight of that statement is too much for Liv’s tired mind to truly process, but it still briefly occurs to her just how big it is, just what it means. For the first time in months, Emmeline can finally, truly rest.

She goes to the back seat and helps Emmeline to her feet. Emmeline remains resolutely wrapped from neck to ankles in the blanket. Despite it being the old, scratchy one Liv keeps in her car in case of emergency, to Emmeline it’s so much more than she’s been allowed.

Standing there barefoot in the parking lot, Emmeline slowly looks up at Liv, strands of limp, messy hair hanging around her face. The single light on the side of the building illuminates her drawn face and although she’s weak, malnourished, exhausted...there is a grateful reverence in her eyes that no matter what happens, Liv will never forget.

Liv swallows and pushes down the lump in her throat. “Come on,” she whispers, putting her arm around Emmeline’s blanket-clad shoulders and guiding her towards the door.

----

Her apartment is tidier than usual; Liv made sure of that, even though she’s pretty sure Emmeline won’t care. Considering where she has spent the last several months, a jail cell would seem like an upgrade. But if Liv is anything, she’s self-conscious.

Emmeline looks around, blinking blearily after having barely made it up the single flight of stairs. She’s swaying on her feet and Liv ushers her to sit on the couch before she passes out right there in the middle of the living room.

Liv is running on adrenaline and fumes at this point. It’s all too surreal, like an out of body experience. Even after long hours spent thinking and planning, she never expected to get this far. But now Emmeline is here, in her apartment, sitting on her couch. Existing outside of the lab, real and tangible.

And she needs you. Get it together.

“I know you probably want to sleep,” Liv begins. Emmeline is still looking around the room like she can’t quite believe it either. “But you haven’t eaten, so...I want to get something in you first, if that’s okay?”

“Okay,” Emmeline whispers.

Liv moves slowly to the kitchen and busies herself with preparing something light and easy: canned soup, crackers, a mug of herbal tea with honey. Like in the car, she allows herself a moment to take a few deep breaths and will her hands to stop shaking before she picks up the plastic tray and carries the food back into the living room.

Emmeline hasn’t moved an inch, not even to relax back against the couch cushions. It isn’t quite what Liv expected...but then, what did she expect? For everything to be better the moment they got here? It isn’t all going to be okay overnight, she realizes. Give her time.

“Here…” Liv sets the tray on the coffee table and sits at the edge of the couch, leaving a few inches between them, not wanting to crowd Emmeline. “Um - chicken noodle soup. Saltines. Chamomile vanilla tea.”

Emmeline blinks slowly at the items before her. “I’m not dreaming. Right?”

“I hope not. Eating canned soup in my apartment isn’t a very exciting dream.”

A faint smile appears on Emmeline’s face. “To me it is…”

Liv holds the bowl of soup while Emmeline eats small spoonfuls of it and nibbles on crackers. She only eats about half before moving on to the tea, cupping the warm mug in her hands and humming with pleasure when she takes the first sip.

“Could I - “ Emmeline begins, but stops abruptly, ducking her head and taking another sip.

“Could you…?”

“Take a shower?” she asks almost inaudibly.

“Of course you can,” Liv answers automatically. “You can have whatever you need.”

Emmeline hesitates, still so frail and uncertain. “Just that is enough...thank you…”

Strengthened by her meal, Emmeline is able to make her own way to the bathroom. Beneath the blanket she is wearing a pair of nurse’s scrubs, stolen from the laundry room at the lab just in case a glimpse of her was caught on camera, though Liv meticulously designed their plan to avoid that. She sheds the clothes and Liv bundles them and the blanket into a plastic bag to discard tomorrow.

Emmeline disappears into the bathroom and a minute later the water comes on.

Liv is left sitting on the couch, finally alone with her fears and doubts.

I can’t believe I did that…

If we get caught we’re so fucked…

Does she even want to be here?

What the hell do I do now?

She grabs the tray of dishes and hurries to the kitchen, where she actually washes them instead of pushing it off to tomorrow, just to distract herself. When that task is done too soon, she goes to change into pajamas and find something for Emmeline to wear.

She’s unfolding and refolding the clothes for the third time when the water shuts off. Just as Liv is standing to bring her the clothes, the sound of the shower curtain moving aside is followed by a cry and a loud thud.

Liv darts to the bathroom, everything else forgotten. She enters without knocking, her heart in her throat.

Emmeline is sprawled on her side on the floor, grimacing. One leg is hooked over the edge of the tub and it quickly becomes apparent that she slipped.

Not attacked. Not passed out or dead. She just fell. It’s okay. It’s okay.

At the sound of Liv entering the room, she rolls onto her back with a groan, revealing a bruise on her hip that slowly starts to heal as soon as the pressure is removed from it.

“Ow…”

“Shit...I forgot to put the bath mat in,” Liv mutters, embarrassed. No wonder Emmeline slipped. She crouches beside her and offers her arms for Emmeline to hold onto.

“Not your fault,” Emmeline answers quietly as she slowly gets to her feet. “I got dizzy…”

The moment Emmeline is standing she sways into Liv, leaning heavily against her before her legs can give out again. Liv freezes, acutely aware of the pressure of Emmeline’s body draped against hers, soft and clean, so weary, so in need of comfort.

All of those evenings Liv spent watching her suffer, wishing she could hold her, touch her gently, stroke her hair...now she has the chance, not a camera or another soul in sight, and she can’t move, can barely think. Not when Emmeline has her head tucked against Liv’s shoulder, breathing soft breaths against her neck.

Liv reaches blindly to her side until she finds a towel hanging on a hook beside the shower. She puts enough space between them to wrap it around Emmeline’s shivering form but remains close enough to steady her. By now Emmeline looks like she might fall asleep where she stands.

“Sorry,” Emmeline whispers, her drooping gaze fixed on Liv’s shirt. “I got you wet…”

“Shh. Don’t worry about it,” Liv answers quietly. “Come on…”

She guides her the final few feet into the bedroom and helps her into soft cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt. Then she pulls back the covers - freshly washed sheets on a freshly made bed, another thing she made sure of - and motions for Emmeline to get in.

“A bed?” Emmeline breathes. She runs her fingers over the sheet with a look of wonder.

“Mmhmm,” Liv affirms, lips pressed together. She’s afraid if she opens her mouth to speak she might cry from the sudden well of emotion at finally being able to give this to Emmeline, this comfort and safety she so deserves.

Emmeline slowly lies down on the bed, letting out a long sigh of relief when her head comes to rest on the plush pillow. Liv pulls the covers over her and tucks them around her snugly. She barely resists planting a soft kiss to Emmeline’s damp hair. Barely.

“Goodnight,” she whispers.

Emmeline is already fast asleep.

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch2: Hey Sailor

Chapter Summary: Mary is excited for her first riding lesson, and it seems that she’s not the only one…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Again, as you will all know I’m a Brit so apologies if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me. This chapter is a bit of a filler, things start getting a bit more interesting in the next one, and then we’ll be diving into the Gifted story line in Chapter 4.

Thanks to my beta reader/sounding board @icanfeelastormbrewing for her input and her modes of transport kink...

As always I’m a ho for a REBLOG and COMMENT!

Chapter Song: Tomorrow by James

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Mary…” Frank sighed. “Take the boots off and get in bed.” “You told me that Miss Gallagher said I needed to wear them.” she looked at him.

“Yeah, but you can’t wear them in bed…”

Mary flopped onto the side of her bed and reached down to unzip the boots before she kicked them off and Frank picked them up and placed them out of the way. Mary shuffled down under her covers and lay her head back on the pillow. Frank gently smoothed her blonde hair back off her face and smiled at her. Times like this she really did remind him of Diane.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?” “Can I read for a little while?” she asked.

Frank rolled his eyes “Mary…”

“Please!”

“Fine, 15 minutes tops. And I’ll be in to turn the light off, ok?” With a grin she sat up and reached for her latest book- Moby Dick, and he dropped a kiss to her head and left her to it. He made his way into the kitchen, cleared the dishes and then grabbed a beer his attention turning to the table which was had clear, the other half scattered with the parts from one of the engines he had been working on. He knew he really shouldn’t bring this home with him but sometimes it was just easier.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it, glancing down at the unknown number.

“Hi Mr Adler, just a courtesy message to remind you of Mary’s lesson tomorrow at 1. If you can’t make it please let me know ASAP so I can offer the slot to someone else. Otherwise see you then. Regards, Fliss.” Frank smiled, like he would have chance to forget. Mary had talked of nothing else since Saturday. His fingers hovered over the reply button, before he dropped the phone back down. He didn’t need to reply…did he? I mean…

Oh fuck it. He picked the phone back up and tapped in a quick response.

“Frank, please. And like I’d have chance to forget. She’s been like a broken record since Wednesday. I had to pry her boots off tonight as she was threatening to wear them in bed…”

Setting the phone down he headed back through to check on Mary, her 15 minutes was over. He found her fast asleep, book clutched to her chest. Gently taking it from her, he slipped the bookmark into the page and turned off the lights, making sure she was tucked in. When he moved back into the main part of the trailer he had a reply.

“Brilliant! That’s what I like to hear. Get used to it, you’re going to hear about nothing but horses now for the rest of your life.” “Great, I can’t wait…” he added a rolling eye emoji at the end and set down, gathering a few pieces of the engine, setting to work. About 5 minutes passed and his phone went again.

“You know I offer starter lessons for adults too, maybe you should try it, see if you understand what the fuss is all about.” “No thanks, my feet stay firmly on the ground. Unless I’m on a boat.” “A boat? I didn’t have you pegged as a sailor?” At that Frank let out a bark of a laugh.

“I’m not, not really. I fix them. And besides, you don’t sail speedboats.” “What do you do then?”

“I suppose you drive them.”

“Do you drive them on water?” “Dur.” “That’s called Sailing.”

His work abandoned he took a pull from his beer bottle and shook his head, smile tugging at his lips as he replied.

“But they don’t have sails…” “It’s a boat. It goes on water. It’s called Sailing.” “Alright, I bow to your superior knowledge…” “Glad we agree…even if I do detect a serious underlying tone of sarcasm in your message. See you tomorrow Sailor.” He laughed again, shaking his head. He tapped in a goodnight and placed the phone down, turning his attention to his work.

*****

“What are you grinning about?” Bill Gallagher turned his attention to his daughter as they walked across the field, Thor and his own dog, Rupert, hurtling ahead in front of them, their flashing collars keeping them located in the twilight.

“Oh, nothing, just winding someone up.” she smiled “One of the dad’s from tomorrow’s lesson, trying to convince me you drive, not sail, a speedboat.” “Hmmm…well they don’t have sails.” Bill mused.

“Whatever, they go on water, they sail.” Fliss said, slipping her phone back into her pocket as Frank’s ‘Goodnight’ rounded off their conversation.

“So, who is he then?” Bill asked.

“Oh, his name’s Frank.” Fliss said, nonchalantly, but her dad didn’t miss the flicker of a smile that hit her mouth.

“Is he the one that your mum said was eyeing you up in the bar?” “He was not eyeing me up.” Fliss groaned “He was just being friendly.” “Sure he was.” “Dad…” she warned him, nudging him with her elbow.

“What?” “You know what!” she laughed “Stop it.” “Alright…” he smiled, holding his hands up “I yield…it’s just nice to see you happy, that’s all.” “Well, I am.” she said after a moment, and she meant it “The last 6 months…the riding school has taken off, I’m feeling more…well, myself than I have in years. Just need to find an apartment now.” “Well, on that…” Bill said. “Me and your mum have been thinking. We thought, maybe, you might want to move into the annex. We can do it up, gives you your own space…”

Fliss paused and looked at her dad. “That’s where Steeby stays though, when he comes out with Sian and the kids…” “There’s plenty of room in the house.” Bill shrugged “And they come like what, 4 times a year? It’s stood empty the rest of the time.” Fliss bit her lip.

“It’s just an idea and your brother won’t mind. Look, I know it’s probably not what you had in mind, living in your parent’s annex but for the time being until the Yard starts to turn over more of a profit we just thought it might give you a little bit more freedom.” “Whilst still staying close.” she said, looking at him. Bill shrugged.

“I want to keep you safe Titch.” he shrugged “I didn’t do that before but…” “Dad don’t.” she said, shaking her head “None of that, it wasn’t your fault. I hid from everyone what was happening…you didn’t know.”

“I should have.” he sighed “You’re my daughter.” “He had everyone fooled, including me.” she shrugged “This is no one’s fault but his, I get that now.” Bill smiled and pulled her into a hug. “I know.”

“We should head back.” Fliss said “Mum will be wondering where we are.”

“You have anything to finish off?” he asked

“Nope, everything is out for the night and looks reasonably settled.” she said, squinting at the various horses dotted across her land.

“Hmmm, unlike this fencing…” Bill said, looking at the broken bit of post and rail that Fliss had patched up with electric tape “This could do with replacing, love.” “Yeah, I know.” she said “I was going to mention it but forgot. The temporary fix has worked for the time being.” “I’ll stop by and do it tomorrow.” he said, “Won’t take me long. I’ll level that top field as well whilst I’m at it if you want.” “Thanks Dad” she smiled. In comfortable silence they made their way back towards the main part of the yard.

*******

Fliss grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in her office and took a long drink. The heat was pretty intense today, and she was just wondering if really holding Mary’s lesson as advisable when she realised it wasn’t like they’d be doing anything too strenuous. She adjusted her baseball cap and head back onto the yard, shouting instructions to the 3 members of staff to go and take a water break. Just as they were passing her towards the office, she saw Frank and Mary walking onto the yard. Mary was sporting a new riding hat and Fliss couldn’t help but smile.

“Well check you out!” she said, tapping the little girl on the head “Nice hat.” “I liked the silver on it!” she grinned, pointing to the sparkly strip that ran along the front.

“Me too…” Fliss nodded. “I have the same hat but mine has blue sparkles.” she straightened up and looked at Frank. “Hey Sailor.” He gave a snort of a laugh “I told you, you don’t sail speedboats.” “They go on water.” Mary said, “Its’ sailing.” “Ha, see!” Fliss laughed

Frank sighed “Whatever.” The corners of his mouth turned up and he handed Fliss the forms he had brought back.

“Oh great…” she thanked him “I’ll just file these and then Ruby will get Monty ready. I thought you might like to help her.” Mary nodded eagerly. Fliss excused herself and Frank heard her shouting something and a moment later a tall, wiry Hispanic girl emerged from the office with a saddle. Fliss followed, bridle slung over her shoulder and gestured for Mary to follow. Frank watched as the girl skipped off following and headed after her at a slower pace, rubbing at his neck which felt like it was burning. He’d slathered Mary in sunscreen before but of course had forgotten his own.

He stepped into the relative cool of the barn and watched as the stable hand was explaining to Mary what each piece of tack was as she began to place it onto the pony. He knew Mary would be taking all of this in, just like she did with everything, and Roberta would be hearing all about it later on.

Fliss handed over the bridle and stepped back, heading towards Frank. “I normally do have the ponies ready” she said, almost apologetically “But I thought she’d enjoy this bit.” “You thought right.” Frank laughed “I was just thinking to myself she’ll be chewing our neighbour’s ear off later.”

Fliss smiled and they both stood in silence watching until the other girl said they were ready.

“Alright, let’s go!” Fliss grinned and they walked out into the yard. She took the pony from her staff member with a thanks, and walked with Mary following into the riding paddock. Frank leaned on the fencing outside as Fliss led Mary and Monty over to the wooden mounting block at the side.

“Ok, so…” she turned to Mary and patted the top step “Climb up here…” Mary hopped up.

“Left foot in this stirrup…” she instructed. Mary placed her foot in. “Left hand here…” she guided it to the front of the saddle “And then I want you to swing your right leg over.” Mary did as she was told, sitting down on the saddle.

“Good stuff kiddo!” Fliss smiled as she checked the stirrups “Ok, so we need to put these up a hole so…”

She busied herself shortening the stirrup leathers, and eventually when she was happy she nodded.

“So, what we’re gonna do for today is a bit of walking around, and stopping, and then if you’re happy with your balance we can try a bit of trot ok?” Mary grinned.

“Right…so take your reins…” Fliss showed her how to hold the reins correctly, and then she slipped the lunge line through the ponies bit and looked at the girl. “If you feel wobbly or anything you grab this…” she said, gesturing to the leather strap around the pony’s neck. “And shout to me ok?”

Mary nodded.

Fliss began to walk besides the pony who followed her like a dog. Mary all the time concentrating on what she was doing. Fliss explained to her how her legs made the animal go, and how to make it stop, and they practiced that for 5 minutes before Fliss moved slightly further away to let Mary take a bit of control, instructing her to go, then stop, go, then stop…

Frank watched intently. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly nervous about her falling off but he knew that he had to let her discover all this for herself. He leaned further over on the fence, watching and couldn’t help but smile at the look on Mary’s face, she was concentrating so hard her brow was furrowed, tongue poking out from the side of her mouth.

“Your kid?” a deep voice with a similar accent to Fliss said and he turned to his right to see a tall, stocky guy in his late 50s, early 60s maybe dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans looking at him.

“Niece.” he said, “First lesson.” “Ahh...” the man chuckled “Yeah I remember Fliss’ first lesson. I crapped myself.” Frank let out a laugh “Yeah, I’m a little nervous.” “Bill.” The man stuck his hand out “Fliss’ dad.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Frank.” Bill looked at him, nodding before his attention turned to the paddock “Hey, Titch, sorry to interrupt…” Fliss stopped the pony and turned to her dad “Hey…” “Fencing is done but I can’t get that bloody tractor started…so the field’s gonna have to wait.” “I can look at it.” Frank offered immediately “I mean, if you want…” Bill turned to him, “You a mechanic?” “No he’s a sailor…” Fliss shot back and Frank rolled his eyes.

“I fix boats. Engines…that type of thing.” “Huh.” Bill said “Well if you wouldn’t mind…” “Not a problem. Mary you ok here if I go for a minute?” Mary looked at him “Dur.” Bill let out a chuckle as Frank turned to him “Tell me raising them gets easier.” “Oh no mate.” Bill shook his head, grinning “You just get different shit to deal with.” Frank followed the man round to the back of the barn and spotted a dark green baby tractor. Bill explained what it was doing and Frank crouched closer to have a look before he headed to his truck for the jump leads.

After 10 minutes or so he’d found the problem. They could start it, but it wasn’t holding any charge. Meaning when the turned the engine off it needed jump starting again.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the alternator.” he said, stepping back “I’ll need to strip it down to see whether I can repair it or if it needs a new one but…we can get it started again you can do what you need to do for today.”

Bill nodded “So not quite ready for the scrap heap?” “Not quite.” Frank smiled, wiping his hands on his dirty jeans “Just needs a bit of a fiddle with.” “Don’t we all?” Bill quipped, making Frank laugh. They jump started it again and Bill thanked him before hopping on and heading over to the gate that led to the field.

By the time Frank returned, he was surprised to see that Mary was now riding the horse almost unaided in a circle around Fliss who was holding the end of the line attached to the pony’s bridle as it trotted around. Mary was gripping the strap round the pony’s neck and trying to rise in time to the trot. It was clumsy and she was a little bit out of balance but that didn’t matter. He could hear Fliss shouting gentle encouragement to her, counting out the rhythm and eventually Mary fell in time with her counts.

“Good!” Fliss beamed “see, I told you you’d get it…” This continued for another 5 minutes or so before Fliss told Mary to slow Monty down to a walk and give him a good pat. They walked the pony around for a while, to give him chance to cool down a little before Fliss walked towards Mary gathering up the line as she went.

“That was awesome for a first go!” she said, smiling “Did you enjoy it?”

Mary nodded “Yeah, it was really cool!”

“Good!” Fliss said. “Now I’m gonna unclip the line and walk around for a bit. He’ll follow me but when I stop I want you to stop him yeah?”

Mary nodded eagerly and she unclipped the line and began to walk. Fliss knew Monty would stop when she did but she wanted to let Mary have a go anyway. They did a lap of the paddock and on the second she stopped by Frank.

“Look, Frank!” Mary smiled “I’m not on the line.” “Yeah, I see!” he smiled at her “Good job!”

“How’s my tractor?” Fliss asked.

“Think it’s the alternator. We got it started for your dad but I’ll need to strip it down properly…I can come back tomorrow with my tools if you want?” “Oh, I don’t wanna put you out…” Fliss started to protest but Frank shook his head

“It’s no bother, honestly.” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t promise I can fix it but I’ll be able to see if I can or if you need a new one.” Fliss looked at him and then nodded “Alright, but in that case today is free.” “No, that’s not why I offered…” Frank began to protest but Fliss shook her head

“I know.” she said “But I’d like to.” Frank looked at her for a moment, her brown eyes locked onto his and he swallowed, nodding. “Ok, thanks.” “Wait am I coming back tomorrow?” Mary asked

“I’m booked up, sorry sweetie.” Fliss looked at her “But you’re welcome to come anyway, that is if Frank says its ok.” “We’ll see. “Frank looked at Mary.

“I can put her to work.” Fliss said, grinning “Nothing like a bit of child labour.” “That’s illegal.” Mary said.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Fliss looked at her and Frank gave a chuckle.

They made their way out of the paddock and Fliss showed Mary how to swing her leg back round the saddle and slide down. She landed on her feet and took the reins from Fliss’ hand, leading the pony back to his stable. She helped untack and then Fliss handed her the bridle to carry. They walked into the office and Fliss tapped a code into the door to the left and led them into a tidy tack room, rows of saddles and racks adorned the wall along with bridle pegs and a few shelves full of rugs and blankets for the horses. Fliss slipped the saddle onto a spare rack and then directed Mary to Monty’s bridle peg. Frank took the bridle from her as the peg was a little high and hooked it over.

“Now, you need a drink.” Fliss looked at Mary “I got water or some apple juice….”

“Apple please…” Mary said. Fliss nodded and headed back into the office, giving her a juice box from the fridge “Frank?” “Oh, errr, water would be great thanks.” She handed him a bottle and he screwed off the tap.

“So, do you want to book in again now or do it tomorrow?” Fliss looked at him. “I think she’ll cope on the group lesson fine.” “So when do they run?” he asked, swallowing his water.

“Saturday afternoons at 2.” Fliss said. “Or Wednesday at 6.” “Can we come Saturday?” Mary asked.

Frank hesitated “I did say you couldn’t do this every week…” “Yeah but you didn’t pay for today.” Mary shot back.

Jesus Chris Mary…

He glanced up at Fliss who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Fine, you can come this Saturday but then that’s it, we go to every other week like we agreed ok?” Mary nodded.

“Settled, I’ll book you in.” Fliss grinned. “If you get here about quarter to I’ll introduce you to the other girls before you join.” Mary frowned a little, before she recovered and nodded. “Ok.” “So do you like work here every day?” Frank asked. Fliss nodded

“Mostly. If I want a day off then I get Joanne to cover the lessons and the girls can open and close up.” she said “But it’s few and far between. Like I said, still in the early days so…”

Frank nodded “Yeah I know what it’s like, trying to get yourself established.” “I take it you’re a self-employed sailor then?” Fliss smiled and he gave a grin back and nodded.

“He takes me for rides.” Mary said “In the boats sometimes.” “That’s really cool. I’ve never been on speedboat.” Fliss said.

“You should come with us one day, right Frank?”

Frank hesitated a little, surprised to find that he wasn’t filled with dread at the idea of her joining them.

“I’m sure Fliss has enough to be doing without you demanding more of her time.” he shot the girl a look, his tone even.

“Yeah, I’m very busy.” Fliss smiled, offering him a way out. He shot her a thankful look.

“We can do it when you’re free…” “Mary!” Frank’s tone was exasperated as Fliss laughed.

“Maybe one day.” she said, nodding.

This placated the girl somewhat and she bounced off towards the truck.

“Sorry.” Frank turned to Fliss “She can be a little bit…” “Tenacious?” “I was gonna say pain in the ass.” Frank said, causing Fliss to laugh, her soft chuckles made him feel a little warm, or maybe it was the afternoon heat…

“She’s a good kid.” Fliss said gently.

Frank smiled and then jerked his head in the direction of the car park “I better…” “Sure.”

“I’ll drop you a message about tomorrow?” Fliss nodded “Yeah, but don’t put yourself out.” “Well I owe you now for the lesson so…” he shrugged “I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Yeah, guess you will.” Fliss smiled. There was a pause again and Frank nodded, before he turned and headed after Mary. He turned to look over his shoulder at Fliss who was now walking back towards her office before he wandered onto the car park to find Mary was now chewing Bill’s ear off.

“For the love of God…” he mumbled as he drew nearer to find her mid discussion with the man about the Olympics.

“Did you go?” she was asking.

“You bet!” Bill smiled “I’ll tell you something else as well…” “What?” “Those fences are even bigger in real life than they look on the photos.” “It said on the internet she jumped 1 meter 30…”

“The internet?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, we googled her…” Frank groaned “Mary…” “What?” she looked at him. “I was just saying…” “Well don’t…” he said, “Truck, now…”

“It was nice to meet you Mary.” Bill said as the little girl bid him goodbye.

“Sorry…” Frank apologised to him.

“Don’t be silly.” Bill waved his apology off “She wasn’t doing any harm.”

“I meant about the google thing.” Frank sighed “we weren’t prying, she was just curious after seeing the medal and…” Bill shook his head “Kids are nosey.” he shrugged.

With another nod he climbed in the truck and turned to Mary with a sigh “What did I say to you about not telling Miss Gallagher we googled her?” “I didn’t.” Mary said “I told her dad.”

There was a pause as Frank contemplated what she had said, and realised technically she was right. He should have closed that particular loop hole. “Smart ass.” he grumbled back, before he clipped in her belt and they left.

*****

Fliss was surprised to see Mary wasn’t with Frank the next day. Frank explained he had come straight from the boat yard so she was busy doing some lesson work with their neighbour. “Gives me chance to work without her continually running around causing a nuisance.” he had explained, setting his tools down by the tractor.

Fliss chuckled, “Ok, well, I got another client due in a second so just give me a shout if you need anything…” He nodded. It didn’t take him long to realise he had been right. It was the alternator. He took the engine apart and was leaning over it on the flat bed of his truck when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look at Fliss.

“It is the alternator, but it looks like it’s the brushes inside.” he said, “I can fix this…” She nodded, the movement almost imperceptible, and he frowned at the look on her face. She glazed over in front of him, eyes were widened, almost like she was stuck in a memory.

And she was. Something about the fact he’d been leaning over the back of a truck, his grubby t-shirt riding up slightly, dirt on his hands and arms had stirred a really inappropriate thought in her head…which in turn had triggered another flashback.

“He was fixing the car.” Fliss looked at John “I offered him a drink, that’s all…” “He was in our kitchen.” John advanced “I saw you looking at him. Admiring him…” “I wasn’t…”

“Don’t LIE TO ME…” John’s voice as loud and then there was a stinging slap to the side of her face, which sent her reeling. As she recovered, the ringing in her ear still loud from the blow, she gently reached up to her cheek, tears stinging her eyes. John’s face was immediately apologetic, and he reached out for her, causing her to shrink back against the counter.

“You hit me…” she gasped.

“Sugar, I’m so sorry…” John said, his eyes filing with tears “I didn’t…you just made me so jealous…I…” He held his arms out and pulled her to him, his hands on her back as he dropped a kiss to her head “I will never do that again, I’m sorry…” “Fliss?”

She started slightly and looked at Frank. “Yeah, sorry, I was…” “Miles away?” he frowned.

“Something like that.” she nodded, shaking her head “Sorry, you said you could fix it?”

“Yeah.” he said “I can take it with me and then I can bring it back Saturday unless you need it before that?”

“No, Saturday’s fine.” she said gently.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry but are you sure you’re ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” she said quickly. “Look, I gotta get on and…” “Sure.” he nodded, “I should be going anyway…” She smiled at him, and turned and headed back to the yard.

“You clearly triggered something.” Roberta said to him wisely as they both sat in his living room later that evening. He’d just finished telling her about the afternoon. “Some kind of memory.”

Frank hmmed his response. “Question is why are you so bothered?” Roberta asked.

“I’m not, I just…well it wasn’t nice seeing. She looked so scared.” “Well you said her husband was sent down for assaulting her…” Roberta shrugged “She’s clearly had a lot of trauma. Maybe she just needs a friend.” “Yeah, maybe.”

“Could be good for both of you.” “I know what you’re doing.” Frank looked at her sternly

“I’m not trying to do anything!” Roberta chuckled.

“Course you’re not.” he rolled his eyes before he changed the subject.

It wasn’t until he was alone later, that he pulled his phone out to text Fliss. He’d typed out his message, just a perfectly innocent one to check she was ok before he deleted it, shaking his head.

Whatever it was, it really was none of his business. He had enough of his own past demons to live with as it was.

But the more he lay there the more it wound him up.

“Fucks sake…” he grumbled, before he retyped the message and sent it.

*******

Fliss was curled up on the sofa watching TV with a glass of wine. Her parents were out for the evening so she was making the most of enjoying the space. Her phone went and she leaned over to grab it from the coffee table, unable to stop smiling as she saw who it was from.

“Hey, just wanted to check you were ok after before. I hope I didn’t do anything or say anything that upset or scared you.” The last line made her heart sink. He clearly knew about her past. Her dad had mentioned something about them googling her, and the case had been fairly big news amongst the equestrian circuit so she knew that the story was out there to read. Well, most of it was anyway. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking of how to respond. She hated that even after almost a year of him being out of her life John was till effectively a shadow from which she couldn’t seem to emerge.

“It’s not your fault. I get flashbacks sometimes, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well the past has a way of doing that. Trust me, I know.”

Fliss smiled gently as she tapped out her response.

“Yeah, what is it Rafiki says on the Lion King? You can either run from your past or learn from it?”

Little over 30 seconds later he responded.

“Sound advice from a cartoon monkey…not always that easy in real life. If you ever want a non-judgmental ear to talk to, I’m a pretty good listener if you fancy a beer and a chat. Just as friends.” There was just something about this man, something that Fliss couldn’t help but warm to. She wasn’t stupid, the girls at the yard had told her a bit about him, his reputation amongst the ladies…he was a bit of a player from all accounts, but there was something there, something buried deeper, she could just tell. And what’s more, for the first time in years, she felt like she could trust another person other than her family.

It was for that reason she found it so easy to almost, sort of, maybe, possibly accept his invitation.

“I might just hold you to that Sailor.”

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan

#riding high #frank adler x ofc #frank adler #gifted #gifted fan fic

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olkarianprincess · 4 years

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Can you write a shiro x pidge and one-sided Pidge x loter were there on opposite sides of the war Pidge is Gaara and betrothed to Prince lotor shiro is a pilot of Voltron

Huff. Huff.

Shiro doubled over the moment he rounded the corner. Inhaling as deeply and quietly as he could, he attempted to catch his breath. He couldn’t relax, though. They were still on his trail. The dark alleyway was a temporary sanctuary from the alien police force, but stopping also meant losing his momentum.

All too aware of the sweat pooling beneath his armor—of the painful tension in every muscle of his body—he waited in silence. The footsteps grew louder. Closer. In one hand, he clenched his bayard, ready to strike. In the other-

The sphere was gone.

Suddenly, everything melted away. The pain, the sounds, the worry of being caught—all gone. After all, none of it mattered if he had lost the one thing it was all for. Frantically, he searched the small satchel looped around his torso, and then the ground. The sphere was nowhere to be found.

And then there were footsteps.

On instinct alone, he spun around, but he was unprepared for what he saw.

At the end of his bayard was a single, cloaked figure. No police. No guns aimed for his head. Just an entity shrouded in darkness.

“I think you dropped this,” the mysterious stranger said.

Shiro paused before he looked down to their extended hand. A reflection caught his eye. Barely visible, beneath the shadow of a hood, he saw a yellow visor. Behind the visor, two piercing eyes.

And in the outstretched hand was the sphere.

Realization, followed by relief, swept into his body as the air did in his lungs. Without hesitation, he snatched the sphere and tucked it safely into his satchel. His eyes were only off the figure for a moment, but when he looked up, his strange ally was gone.

When Shiro peered out of the alleyway in hopes of spotting them, he saw nothing but the bodies of unconscious, bruised police littering the ground.

Music filled the grand room and, although he was certain it sounded like a fanciful masterpiece to the planet’s resident aliens, it was utter torture for Shiro’s human ears and acoustical tastes. Still, he forced a smile on his lips and waited, eyes glancing around the ball.

The wine, or whatever deep purple liquid it was that swirled about in his glass, wasn’t half bad, and he did recognize a few of the attendees. But Shiro was still bitter. This wasn’t supposed to be his mission.

Lance was the one that suggested they make a covert exchange with their informant. Lance was the one that insisted it had to be at a diplomatic ball. LANCE was the one that emphasized how much he wanted to go.

And yet...

Shiro tried to push away the bitter thoughts that attempted to take over his mind. He knew Coran had his best interests in mind. He also knew that he and Coran had very different ideas of what a “much needed relaxing break of a mission” looked like.

With a sigh, Shiro abandoned that train of thought and focused on finding his contact. Unfortunately, being a super secret matter of intergalactic importance, team Voltron got very little information on what their ally looked like. There was but one clue: the contact would wear a flower pin. They’d at least been given a photo. If they hadn’t, Shiro was certain that Matt would’ve gone on a full out rant about how disappointed Colleen would be that a group of intelligent aliens didn’t recognize not only how common flowers could be in decorative attire but what variety of flowers there are across inhabitable planets. Fortunately, the green lion’s paladin had only done a mini-rant.

Two hours into the ball, Shiro had seen no flower pin. Awkward conversations were plentiful, as were suspiciously jiggly finger foods. But no pin. With a sigh, Shiro pressed his back into the column behind him. He was about to contact Allura to see if the plan was a bust when something caught his eye.

Across the ballroom floor, in a perfectly tailored Galra-equivalent to a suit, stood a handsome gentleman with a gold flower pin on his chest. Wolfs-bane, Shiro recalled Matt saying. That’s what the flower resembled. He stared for but a moment, and startled when brilliant yellow eyes stared back.

A genuine smile on his lips, he moved swiftly across the dance floor. On the other side, his companion awaited with an extended hand. Warmth bloomed in his chest, as did a different feeling. Familiarity. He felt as though this was not the first time they’d met.

“May I have this dance,” Shiro asked as he delicately took the other man’s hand into his own, pressing a soft kiss to the back.

“That’s what we’re here for,” the Galra replied.

“Oh is it?” Shiro asked.

He would never tell his friends, but he was enjoying the opportunity to flirt with a pretty stranger. The Galra had a short, slim body, but was clearly in good shape. His mess of deep purple, puffy hair reminded Shiro of Matt, although Matt didn’t have two soft cat-like ears hidden beneath his cut.

“I thought a gentleman like you would be here for something else,” Shiro continued.

“Perhaps I’m here to meet a friend,” his dance partner replied.

“That makes more sense. For some reason, you don’t strike me as the kind of person to voluntarily attend these events.”

A delightful laugh spilled from the Galra’s mouth, forcing Shiro to turn his head away. It was hard to hide a growing blush when in close proximity with another person. So he switched tactics. The conversation changed, ebbing and flowing with the melody that surrounded them. Until, at last, the song ended.

“I think you dropped this,” his partner remarked with a grin.

Eyebrows furrowed, Shiro tried to decipher the words, but was answered by warm hands wrapping around his own. His heart skipped a beat and then his mind took over. The Galra drew away, but left something behind. Grasping the small device firmly, Shiro moved toward the edge of the crowd. He had to let Allura know that the data had been delivered.

Please be safe.

Shiro’s heart pounded heavily in his chest. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought the beat alone was shaking the cockpit of the black lion. They hadn’t been able to respond. The distress signal came just after Haggar’s forces launched a surprise attack. There was no way for them to respond.

Shiro prayed to whatever gods would help him that the city was safe. The Rodlians had been one of the first members of the Voltron Coalition. They didn’t deserve to be punished for that.

The black lion entered Rodlia’s atmosphere. As they descended, smoke obscured the lion’s screen, and Shiro’s heart raced faster. Prepared to launch straight into battle, he was overcome with dread when the city became visible and no enemy was spotted. The worst, it seemed, had already come to pass.

Landing roughly, Shiro sprung from his lion-ship, ready to do everything in his power to find survivors. But the streets were not littered with victims of war. Here and there, buildings suffered damage, but the citizens seemed to be in good health, if not tired. Spotting him, the city leader came forward.

“What happened? We were attacked and couldn’t get here in time. Did you defeat them yourselves?” Shiro launched into inquiry.

“It’s alright, son,” the older alien patted his leg.

Her head only went as high as his thigh, and yet her voice commanded respect. Instantly, he felt a little better.

“We’re alright. Lady Pidge came to our aid.”

A bony finger pointed in the direction of a cloaked figure, several yards away. Shiro thanked the leader and apologized once more (to which he got a gentle head shake in response) before heading over to greet the one called “Pidge.”

“Excuse me,” he called out.

The figure turned at the sound of his voice, revealing a familiar face.

“Lady Pidge?” Shiro sputtered, “Oh shit I’m so sorry, I called you a man before, I-“

Pidge, the handsome contact he had danced with at the ball, waved off his words with a smile.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t care.”

“Ah, alright. Well, what are you doing here?”

“The Coalition sent me. I’ll tell you more, but it’s going to cost you.”

Once again, the Galra had thrown Shiro for a loop.

“What?”

Pidge pointed and Shiro followed the direction of her finger...all the way to his metal arm.

“Let me take a look at it?” she asked, an intense sparkle in her eyes.

“Oh, okay,” he responded with a laugh.

Warmth filled his chest as he trailed after her towards a laptop (of sorts) situated at the base of a statue.

“No fair! How come Shiro gets a secret admirer?!” Lance whined.

“Yeah! How come Coran lets Shiro have two girlfriends and I get none?” Hunk joined in, a huge smile on his face.

“Hunk,” Keith shot him a glare, “That’s biphobic.”

“Oh, you’re right Keith, my bad. How come Coran lets Shiro have a girlfriend and a boyfriend and I get none?”

Keith collapsed onto the couch with laughter at Hunk’s response and even Shiro couldn’t keep himself from grinning. He scooped up the package Coran had deposited on the table and turned to make his escape, sparing Allura a brief glance before he went. She looked...done, to put a word to it.

In his quarters, alone and away from prying eyes, Shiro gingerly opened the heavy metal box. Of course he knew it wasn’t a present from a secret admirer. That whole bit of drama was entirely a product of Matt’s desire to stir up trouble. But he still didn’t know what it was or who it was from. All Coran said was that someone from the Coalition had sent it.

With bated breath, and a quick prayer that there was not, in fact, a bomb inside, Shiro pressed the buttons on either side of the box and watched as it clicked open. Inside, delicately wrapped, was a thin holopad. He activated and it glowed with life, displaying the message:

Thought you could use an upgrade.

(PS: I’ve included installation instructions.)

And below the message was a little icon of some cute gremlin face with swirly glasses.

Shiro set the device to the side and opened the compartment below the first one. He almost cried when he saw the gift.

Inside was a brand new, clearly custom-made, prosthetic arm.

“I’m still not comfortable going into the heart of the Galra empire, invited or not,” Shiro stated as they approached the massive space station.

“I’ve gotta agree,” Matt said, although his voice lacked its usual carefree tone.

“Relax,” Allura assured, “now that Lotor’s emperor, we don’t need to worry about the Galra attacking us. At least, not the ones under his command.”

“Oh yeah and what about the other 40% of Galra that aren’t?” he heard Lance mutter.

Apparently Allura heard him too, as was indicated by the thump and yelp that followed.

“Lotor is gaining more and more of the Galra’s allegiance each day,” Allura reassured them. “I’ve heard a large part of it is due to the support for his fiancé. Many of the Galra feel more comfortable about his rule knowing they’ll be married.”

“Must be some lady. Or dude. Or, ya know,” Hunk added.

“Quite right,” Coran chipped in. “Maybe you’ll get to meet them.”

Further conversation was cut off by their arrival. Boarding the station was tense, but otherwise uneventful. As they walked through halls radiating with purple light, Shiro couldn’t help but make a pattern of clenching and unclenching his fist. It was an uncomfortable situation for all of them, but Shiro would be lying if he said it wasn’t worse for him and Matt. In truth, there were several thoughts on repeat in his mind keeping him sane.

First was the knowledge that they’d receive valuable access to Galra tactical data and technological schematics. He’d be able to study it and come up with better plans to free the universe. Second was the thought of getting to punch Lotor in the face, should the emperor step out of line. It was an unlikely situation, but the fantasy brought him joy. And like that fantasy, his third thought, of potentially running into Pidge again, kept him going.

Lotor greeted them outside of the throne room and Shiro focused on taking deep breaths while his friends questioned the new Galra ruler. He could barely process what everyone was saying. It was just another mission, he told himself. It would be over soon. Hunk asked about culture and Lance exclaimed something that sounded like “a nanny,” but the full conversation didn’t register in Shiro’s mind. They were being swept into the throne room, Lotor monologuing some nonsense, and light flooded through the opening of the heavy doors as they stepped in.

Shiro blinked once, twice, and then his gaze locked onto a pair of familiar yellow eyes. Warmth flooded his chest. A smile danced on his lips. The tension melted away and suddenly he found himself able to focus. It was just in time for him to hear Lotor say:

“And I’d like to introduce you to my fiancé, Lady Pidge.”

The yellow eyes that had met his quickly looked away.

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mcsmmafia · 3 years

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MC:SM Mafia - Round III 🍪

THE 3RD ROUND OF MAFIA

Story written by Mari

A group of nine village folk were out catching butterflies on a beautiful blue day. One of them saw a pretty butterfly, catching the rest of the humble villager’s curious eyes. The folk left cookie crumbles to make sure they don’t get lost. The butterfly lead them to a big gingerbread mansion, with cookies, cake, and all sorts of sweets! The group looked at the sweets, absolutely famished. The group followed the butterfly into the dining room, finding a beautiful and grand chocolate table, cake scented glowstone, sugar pumpkins, and the most beautiful grand vanilla doors. The group, astonished by all this candy, broke apart the delicious candy covered furniture, as the butterfly floated away. As soon as the winged creature fluttered away, a voice was heard in the walls.

“Come one, come all, for this candy house is free for all, have a feast, what a treat, but in the shadows will emerge a beast.”

The voice was angelic, yet something wasn’t right about it. One of the 9 village folk rushed to the door, only to find the outside cracker paths covered in candy cane wielding zombies. “We’re trapped! What shall we do?”

“Well this is a house covered in delicous food!”

“But but good sir, listen listen! The voice in the walls said a monster will intrude!”

Humble villager folk, it is time.

To find.

THE EVIL WITCH OF THIS MANSION! 🎩

thunder roll

🌑 Results of Night 1:

Radar skulked off to the kitchen to sleep.

Stella first stayed in the entrance hall, but quickly came to the conclusion that zombie had a very loud voice, so she sneaked off to the attic to sleep.

Jesse also stayed in the entrance hall, staring at the zombies outside, waiting that they would slowly but surely eat their way into the house. However, they were dumb and didn't eat straight on one spot, so at dawn they still haven't made a breakthrough. Maybe it's safe in here.

Dan read some edible pages (the font was made of frosting) with his roommate in the library and enjoyed a sweet sleep afterwards.

Harper showed to be an altruistic redstoner who would disable all the traps in the kitchen.

Mevia did the same as Dan.

CASSIE ended up all alone with the candyfloss pillows in the bed chamber... well, dangit. There was nothing else to do than sleep on the gingerbread beds. On the bright side, it was still fresh, so that wasn't too bad.

Stampy spent a bit more time in the entrance hall, but then sneaked off to the attic to have a safe sleep.

☀ Results of Day 2:

Nobody had the guts to vote someone to at least get locked up. Death awaits them...

🌒 Results of Night 2:

Radar just... ate the wall in the attc. Partially. And then went to sleep. I- I don't even wanna ask.

Stella lingered around the living room for a bit, but then went to the attic for the night.

Jesse took the safety route and hid in the attic for their sleep.

Dan huddled up in the sweet sugary candyfloss of the bed chamber. And probably ended up being very sticky. No, I'm not talking about the bed... soon, a giant mass of sugar just fell on his head to bury him! It's a traaap!! Oh well, we'll keep him in sweet memory!

Harper stayed in the kitchen, ate a cupcake or two and went to the land of dreams afterwards.

Mevia was freaked out about Winslow, so she fled to the... dining room. I mean, why not lol. Surely something you wouldn't exspect!

CASSIE sneaked into the secret passage way and set off a trap or two in the bed chamber, and a random one in the gallery. Then she had her killer beauty rest.

Stampy just hang out in the kitchen, feeling sneaky eating a whole cake in just one second where PAMA was not looking, and eventually, je fell asleep. Or he went into coma because eating so much so fast... I'm not sure.

Dan has died!

☀ Results of Day 3:

Stampy made a trade with Stella and gave her an iron sword.

Stella was being quite the detective! Together with Jesse and Mevia, she was able to narrow down a few suspects. For tonight, CASSIE and Mevia were sent to the closet to be guarded by Jesse. And, I guess the rest just settled to ALL go to the KITCHEN!? 😂

🌓 Results of Night 3:

Radar had to move on to the kitchen because he'd otherwise eat a leak in the roof. And it's probably not so comfortable to sleep under the open sky with this storm going on.

Stella was eager to craft a copy of Stampy's iron sword in the kitchen. It took a while to gather all the materials, and she had to be careful to not disturb the others in their sleep. She eventually got finished a few hours before dawn, but just couldn't fall asleep because of the excitement!!

Jesse kept a very close eye to their prisoners, warily clutching their sword. They would not let them doze off for one second.

Harper stayed in the kitchen, not minding the company, and went to bed early.

Mevia also watched her guard Jesse narrowly, effectively spending the whole night on a staring contest.

CASSIE kinda just went with being locked up and forced to stay awake. At least she still had food.

Stampy was not okay with Harper being in the kitchen, so he fled to the attic.

☀ Results of Day 4:

Stella made a trade with Stampy and gave him an iron sword. Jesse gave the Flint & Steel to Radar. Mevia and CASSIE were sent to the closet to be guarded by Stampy.

Seems like they've agreed on two main suspects! Though CASSIE is in way stronger suspection by multiple people. Also... Could y'all stop assembling at one place!?! 😮😂

🌔 Results of Night 4:

Dan's ghost popped up from nowhere in the middle of the night and threatened Cassie a fiery doom, like a horror ride, in Night 5!! Cassie, seriously, you better watch out!! 😮👻🔥

Radar thought about writing a list again, but then realized it was kinda useless since literally everyone was in the attic anyway. So he only went to sleep.

Stella went to the attic to safely theorize about everything. She was still in thoughts as she slowly fell asleep.

Jesse allowed themself a restful night in the attic.

Harper was paranoid of everyone being in the attic with her, and chose to stay awake just in case.

Mevia was salty at her guard for having to stay awake again. No sugar could ease her mind.

CASSIE quielty accepted her fate of becoming a living zombie in the closet.

Stampy showed mercy to his prisoners and only forced them to stay awake... Although the thought of killing them both was sweet.

☀ Results of Day 5:

Mevia has been sent to the closet to be guarded by Stampy.

Discussions were going on... emotions have been raised... perks revealed... but most of the guests still won't commit to either Mevia or CASSIE. So Stella, Stampy and Mevia voted to throw CASSIE out, but they were short by one vote! Sooo annoying!!

🌕 Results of Night 5:

Radar fell safely into the sugary clouds and rested well in the bed chamber.

Stella followed her suspect CASSIE to the kitchen. Ominously, Lluna sniffed diamond nearby! Stella instantly had bets on a diamond axe, so she let Lluna steal it... then she chose to stay awake. However, the night would not go by that easily; it must've been around midnight when Stella abruptly felt a cold hand covering her mouth and throat! She tried to fight back, but the surprise and darkness weakened her mind, and soon, she passed out... Only to awake one more time, and find herself surrounded by calio cats. Not one, not two... three... five, seven, nine!? HOW MANY ARE THERE, HOW MANY, THIS CAN'T BE REAL, THIS MUST BE A BAD DREAM, A NIGHTMARE... a... night... nightmare... in her head.

Jesse went for the bed chamber, but actually wanted to observe the hallway to the gallery, though not having a bow or an arrow. It was... not very eventful.

Harper felt very safe being alone in the attic with PAMA, and took a long nap.

Mevia had to stand the closet imprisonment one more time - and definitely wasn't happy about becoming a regular here. On the bright side, since she is so used to it by now, she fell asleep even though Stampy tried his best to not let her.

CASSIE saw her probably last chance, and took it - she sneaked up behind Stella like a cat, and instantly covered her mouth to prevent any noise. Then she slowly strangled her to unconciousness, and dumped her in the basement. Now the cats would take care of the rest.

Stampy laughed at his prisoner, and tried to force him to stay awake. However, Mevia was mega-tired, and nearly instantly doze off despite standing.

The Last Day ☀

Finally, the guests had a clear lead! After ages of locking up poor Mevia and Stella being captured and terrorized by cats, her pet Lluna stole the solid evidence: A diamond axe, which belonged to CASSIE!! 🪓

They immediately had an emergency meeting at breakfast to discuss how to get rid of CASSIE the safest way. Then, CASSIE showed up for breakfast too - and one single moment of mutual gaze said a thousand words. Everyone stood up as fast as they could, but CASSIE was already running away - and Stampy, Mevia and Jesse rushed after her! (Without Stella, they stayed at the table because they felt a little labile from the nightmares still.)

Mevia swang her diamand axe and sprinted ahead, full of anger and bloodthirst to take their vengeance on Dan. Stampy was following right behind- oh, a CAKE!! Yum-yum!!! 🍰

For some reason, Sea was fleeing so super fast - oh, right! She didn't have her diamond axe on her anymore... Oh noo, she’s gonna escape the mansion before we can even grab her!! 🙁

Quickly, we need to corner her- Jesse tried to shoot ahead, but they were too tired - CASSIE's already at the front door, nuu- but then- CASSIE opened the front door and found Reuben already waiting for her, ready to push her down! In a matter of seconds, Mevia was there, ready to homicidally eliminate CASSIE herself. However, Jesse yelled to throw them out like planned, as they would not be any better to split Cassie in two halves. Mevia sighed grumpily.

They both dragged CASSIE to the center of the front yard, with the help of Reuben. Arrived, they gave CASSIE a deadly stare; Jesse asked if she had any last words. In fact, CASSIE had:

“LONG LIVE MY CATS! Wait, can someone feed them when I-", Mevia pushed her into the zombies, "TAKE CARE OF MY CATS”.

Then they left CASSIE to her fate.

As Jesse hustled to head back inside, they suddenly heard a splash - which sounded nothing like water. They turned around... Mevia was not behind them. In fact, she was in the back, having pulled out her axe which was now bloody. Oh welp... she really wanted to revenge Dan.

Right before the guests left the mansion for good, they found a small paper on the table. It showed where the cats are and what times to feed them. Nobody would give a damn.

(Worst ending ever... 😿)

The guests have won the game! 🍪

#mcsm #episode 6 #mafia

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fire2forge · 3 years

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Looking back...

March 15th 2020. My ship said goodbye to to our last guests. We pulled into Miami, let everyone off and left to go drift out with all the other cruise ships. At the time we all thought that it would truly be a 30 day pause in operations, we know now how naïve that was.

I’ll admit for awhile it was nice. Crew had the run of the ship, bars were open earlier, we had very little work to do, late nights out having fun, all kinds of activities. We were all so confident that covid hadn’t made it to our ship, that we were all safe, and this was just gonna be a 30 day vacation.

Cut to the 21st:

We come to find out later that this unannounced drill was our super-spreader event. Because no-one knew it was a drill, everyone that was in isolation came out (we thought the ship was on fire)...by the time it was announced it was a drill and those confined should not leave it was to late...

Cut to the 24th:

I go back to medical later in the day, and after testing negative for the flu, am given a mask and told I was not allowed to leave my cabin (I luckily did not have a room mate), unless it was to come back for daily temp checks.

I find out later on that unknown to most of us we had a lot of people that had quietly been put into isolation (in a crew of 2000+, it’s easy to not notice). This was also the day of our first major repatriation effort 700 crew (mainly cruise division) where slated to fly...only a few did.

Cut to the 28th:

The first PCR tests are done onboard, sometime in the afternoon the Captain comes on and says we have one positive case. A few hours later its 14 confirmed cases, and everyone is told to return to their cabins until further notice (We never had an official announcement given after the first 14, but it was well over 100 cases by the end). The ship has just entered lock down.

On the 29th All crew got moved into guest rooms, this was both because of an order from the CDC, and so that the many smoker’s would be able to smoke on the balconies. We had different zones to divide everyone up:

Red Zone for confirmed cases, Orange for suspected/been in contact with, and the rest for supposedly healthy. It’s here that I note that even though I had already been in isolation for days, had a constant cough, and had had a fever (that by then had broken) I was never tested, nor was I put into orange zone.

At this point no one can leave cabins (excluding those working crew) and the company has started to realize that they need to get everyone back home as soon as possible. Repatriation efforts start to really kick into gear.

We stayed in what would eventually be labeled Phase 1 for 29 days. We entered Phase 2 April 26th.

PHASE 1

During the initial phase, all crew got asked if they wanted to stay onboard (unpaid), basically for those who didn’t want to or couldn’t go home for any reason. This would become Group 3. I was part of this group, for many reasons I did not want to go home, so the free room and board was perfect for me, and many of my friends. This is the sole reason I was onboard for so long, not because of anything the company did.

Those that did want to go home became group 2, many of them would end up waiting months before their country opened up and flights could be made, I remember how at the end of March beginning of April, we would constantly here from the Capt that some nationality was going to fly that day, only for him to come back and say that the got denied at some point in the process and would be coming back onboard.

Those few that were still getting paid, still had a job because someone had to run the ship became known as Group 1.

I don’t really remember that much from this time, the days really started to blend and the isolation was not helping anything. While people in the US where throwing fits over “Shelter in Place” orders, I was not allowed to leave a room that was roughly 20′x10′. They complained about not being able to see friends, I only saw 1 person a day (one of my managers twice a day for temp checks, approx. 5 second visits each). They complained that stores had limited hours, I had no store, I had limited choice in food, I had no ability to get snacks, it was 3 meals a day that’s it, you want some chips at 3pm to bad dinner won’t come till 6pm. (eventually they sorted out a system so we could by snacks, beer, cigs, and bathroom supplies). To top this all off we had no access to laundry services till round April 5th, I was put in isolation before everyone else, I had not done my laundry for a week before hand....I was struggling.

Looking through some old notes, apparently at one point I had made a schedule, Breakfast 9-10...Read till 11....Listen to the crew radio show 11-1...Lunch 12-1...Nap...Dinner 5-6...Sleep. Very stimulating days we had.

A month of solitude was not easy, especially when you keep hearing about crew members being denied entry into their own countries, the media blaming the industry as a whole for covid reached the US, constantly thinking our quarantine was gonna end only for it to be extended, and not seeing or really speaking to anyone the entire time. But a light at the end of the tunnel...Phase 2

PHASE 2

April 26th we got let out....kinda...

Split down the Middle...people on Portside got let out for 3 hours, then People on Starboard got let out for 3 hours (this excluded anyone in red or orange zone). After our “yard time” we went back to our cabins. Once a week you could go down and purchase up to 4 items from the slop chest (the crew shop). Everyone was wearing masks, the only time we weren’t is if we were smoking, one person per ashtray spaced about 8ft apart.

At some point during this time the Captain made a comment on how in hindsight we should of went straight into lockdown on March 15th, that we should of done 2 weeks then instead of over a month now.

We still had 2 temp checks a day (done door to door), and all meals were still delivered. There is a reason we joked about it being yard time, because it really was. You got to get some fresh air and maybe see a few friends that was it....Luckily it didn’t last long we entered phase 3 on May 12th.

But before that a note. By this time the fleet had started using our own ships to transport crew home, aka one ship sailed a bunch of people over to India. Along with that some people were getting lucky enough to have flights. So my ship was constantly losing people, either because they got a flight home or where being moved onto another ship. If I remember correctly our largest sign off was ~500 Filipinos, it was a hectic time in crew movement, by the time we got into Phase 3 we only had a few hundred people on board if memory serves right.

PHASE 3

We could finally be outside for as long as we wanted, no more restricted movement. Meals where in the large guest buffet area (seating 1 or 2 people a table only, all distanced), temp checks where done at division based locations, for me that was the theatre (still two a day)....that’s basically the only change.

We still had to wear masks at all times, we were still supposed to keep distance, no groups, no going into each others cabins, no fun nights out...in theory.

The first few days in Phase 3 we ended up signing off almost everyone that was in Group 2, by May 20th we were at minimum manning +16 Group 3 (in total about 100 people). It was then that we went back to eating in the crew mess and the restrictions where unofficially forgotten about.

When I say this you must keep in mind that at this point it had been almost 3 months since any of us had touched land, and a solid month and a half since we had a positive case. Much like New Zealand and Australia now, we no longer had to worry about covid. We still wore masks around the ship (thanks to the CDC), but unless Chief Safety caught you no one was gonna look twice at a large group eating at one table, or a group staying up late drinking and playing cards (guilty of that)...By the end of May it was almost like we had regained some normalicy...so of course it couldn’t last...

MOVING SHIP

May 21st, Group 3 got a notice that we would be transferred to another ship in the fleet to consolidate all of us together. They said it would be a few weeks before this transfer...We finally got moved on June 22nd.

As of today March 16th 2021 a full year after we stopped sailing, the last remaining Group 2 and Group 3 people from my company have gotten home, those that were in Group 2 came from Vietnam, and Trinidad and Trabago it took a year to finally get them home...let that sink in.

...

And here is where i’ll end this tale, if anyone is interested in knowing about life on the 2nd and 3rd ship I got transferred to before going home in December, let me know i’ll type something up.

#cruise crew #Cruise Ship #covid #crew #long post #there is so much i didn't put down #all the little things #all the rules #all the shit the cdc did to us and still is doing #a lot of nuance #is lost here as i tried to make it not a super long post #as well as keep it vague what company i work with #and don't get the wrong idea here i will be the 1st one back on a ship #i just felt like doing a retrospective on how my covid experiance differed from others #maybe its because my friends from the ship just got home and seeing them reacting to just everything that's changed ....#well it got me thinking

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mitigatedchaos · 5 years

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More Thinking on Golf Carts

(1,800 words, ~8 minutes)

The humble golf cart could be the future of American personal transport.

Cities

The most basic nature of the human settlement is formed through its relationships between time, energy, and space. With energy we can control travel time, and thus access to space. We should envision cities as a pool of destinations accessible per unit time. The spacing between these destinations is determined by travel speed.

The number of accessible destinations reachable in a given time in an area can be roughly modeled as...

[network penetration] × [area density] × π × [transit speed]2

Due to the fragile nature of the human body, each increase in speed requires an increase in space. Apparently, the average driver hits the brakes after around 2.3 seconds. At 20 km/h, the vehicle will have moved around 12-13 meters before that happens. At 60 km/h, 38 meters. At 120 km/h, around 77 meters. As a vehicle becomes faster, it requires greater padding both in itself (to protect passengers) and in the environment (to protect others). This can be in the form of rules or procedures, but it can also be in the form of physical buffers, grade separation, signaling equipment, and so on. We can also constrain the freedom of motion of the vehicle, such as putting it on tracks, reducing the amount of information that others have to process to safely avoid it.

The padding takes the form of space, but it also takes the form of time, because it's largely about acceleration. (This suggests a theoretical maximum density of human development.)

But let's set the full discussion of my theory of city network power aside for now.

Density Considerations

Suppose a car travels at 60 km/h (~37 mph, the average US car speed) and has point-to-point access to an American suburb with a density of 700 persons per square kilometer.

In 15 minutes, the car could travel 15 kilometers. During this time it can go anywhere within that radius, for a total accessible area of about 706 km2. Let us imagine that destinations are directly proportional to population, and that the population is uniform. The car can reach about 495,000 destination... units, or 33,000 per minute. (In practice, it won't hit the average of 37 mph unless it reaches the highway, which it won't do in one minute.)

The typical walking speed is about 5 km/h (~3.1 mph). A pedestrian's 15 minute range is around 4.9 km2. As it happens, there are American university campuses of this size, with on-site restaurants, gyms, and other amenities, with parking decks around the edges. If destinations are proportional to population, we'll need to pack around 101,000 people into the area to equal the suburb.

Note that this doesn't include public transit. Even a New York City bus trundling along at 7 mph (~11 km/h) is twice as fast as a pedestrian, for about 21,000 residents / km2 - not far off the density of some parts of New York.

A bicyclist without much training can (apparently) achieve an average of 20 km/h (~12 mph). This is 4 times faster than a pedestrian. If we take that as around 78 km2, we get roughly 6,350 residents / km2.

Golf cart maximum speed is 32 km/h (~20 mph), giving us a range of 201 km2. That makes for a density of around 2,470 residents / km2, which we'll round up to 2,500.

How tall is that?

Assume each resident requires 80 m2 of space, and 35% of land area is dedicated to residential construction (350,000 m2 for each km2). The heights are then:

0.16 stories for cars.

23 stories for pedestrian-only.

4.8 stories for New York buses.

1.45 stories for bikes.

0.56 stories for carts.

Any number below 1.0 means we can (potentially) build a yard on the lot (if it isn't taken up by parking). Multiply by 2 to divide the lot in half by building taller. (If you've noticed European cities with lots of 3-story buildings, well, that makes sense.)

Golf Carts

Both The Villages in Florida and Peachtree City in Georgia are golf-cart-oriented communities. Peachtree City has "multi-use paths" mandated throughout. These paths wind through scenic forest and reach from subdivisions to stores, restaurants, schools, and other locations throughout the town. Look in on the parking lots from Google StreetView and Maps, however - they seem to be dominated by full-size cars, with only a handful of carts in any given lot. The Villages, a retirement community, does better in terms of the number of carts, but still has plenty of sprawling parking lot despite its wide-reaching cart path network. Why?

Simply put, these are largely conventional developments that have been equipped with a thorough, but auxiliary, golf cart network. Peachtree City has a median household income of $93,000, 66% above the statewide median, and The Villages is an extension of the retirement village golf course concept elevated to a new scale.

The parking lots aren't filled with golf carts because the developments aren't dense enough. In order to have the same number of destinations reachable per unit travel time by golf cart, they would have be about four times the density - around that 2,500 number we proposed earlier.

If we do this the carts may start to become a real traffic issue for each other. With the smaller size and slower speed of the carts, however, one lane's width of conventional road supports roughly twice as many golf carts, so road land use can be allocated to 1/3rd "Micro-mobility Path" (to be shared with bikes, e-scooters, etc) and 2/3rds conventional road.

The shorter length makes a difference much more for parking than it does on the road. A Toyota Corolla covers a minimum of ~8.27 m2, while a Yamaha Drive 2 golf cart covers around 2.87 m2, a factor of almost 2.9x smaller.

Is it walkable?

Golf carts move about six times faster than pedestrians. Cars move around 12 (average) to 24 (highway) times faster. A medium speed for a horse is apparently around 10-17 mph (~3-5.5 times faster). Golf cart and bicycle-oriented development is therefore more analogous to the speed of a horse than it is to the speed of a pedestrian or a car, even though everyone becomes a pedestrian at either the beginning or end of their journey.

...but this isn't necessarily the wrong approach. A town in which every resident has their own personal horse, cowboy hat, and six-shooter is very American in scale. It's also a suitable scale for bicycles.

You might have noticed that in some U.S. cities with high housing demand, there's some new construction going on in a more "New Urbanist" style, with townhomes being built with walking access to small stores or a grocery store. Their streets and parking lots are still scaled to automobile traffic, however, and actually reaching that grocery store from the center of the development might require walking one kilometer and crossing four lanes of loud, full-scale traffic. The small amount of groceries that can be carried on foot require more frequent trips. Most Americans would probably choose to take the car, as cargo bikes aren't really a thing in America (though they should be) and don't have much room for kids. Of course, if the grocery store is on the same side of the road, this is all easier.

...but if the New Urbanists are seeking to build old forms from the America that existed before the automobile, they may unintentionally be implicitly building for the power, mass, speed, mobility, and scale... of the horse. (And also the locomotive.)

Since there is a vehicle that roughly matches that description (the golf cart), and the modifications required would be relatively small (widening of sidewalks into multi-use paths, addition of golf cart lanes to roads, or similar measures), they would make an excellent choice to retrofit. And if we're building for golf carts, we're also building for bicycles, electric bikes, pedal quadricycles, electric scooters, and similar very light and comparatively slow vehicles, as long as we're willing to throw in some small bike and electric infrastructure.

Cars

If you've been following so far, then you probably understand why Americans love cars. They have extremely high network penetration. They have extremely high speed. This allows either tremendous utilization of space or enormous compression of destinations per unit time. They're air conditioned, armored, weaponizable, and just highly mobile in general.

They also get stuck in traffic.

Anyhow, with a car of your own you can go almost anywhere you want in a city, without asking other people, having to wait for public transit with public transit schedule and reliability, or needing to share your bubble of space with loud people. It's a lot of freedom, despite the costs that come with it.

Though slower and with a shorter range, golf carts offer similar radical personal powered point-to-point mobility. A cart-based community should also offer pockets of sufficient density for public transit and cart-based park & ride - residential development will be on the interior of blocks, while businesses will be on the exterior, which makes not having a cart or bike at the destination not as big a deal for commuting.

There is one other matter to deal with.

I like this has lockable doors, my biggest issue with bikes is they get stolen all the time.

- YouTube comment on a video for Veemo, an electric-assist cab bike

It might be more common than you think.

"We should make it so people don't need bikes as much to get around so it won't matter as much when they're stolen," or "if people were more secure in their income, they wouldn't feel a need to steal bikes," or "it's your fault for not properly locking up your bicycle" are not going to cut it. If you want the environmental benefits of the biking, the scooting, the golf carting, the accompanying density and decrease in infrastructure volume, and the reduction in fuel usage (and therefore CO2 emissions), you must arrest and prosecute bike thieves, and you must arrest and prosecute cart thieves.

Government programs such as drug clinics to keep addicts off the streets and job assistance for the poor are compatible with this transit mode, but people must be confident that their bicycles, quadricycles, e-scooters, and golf carts will not be stolen. If they are not confident of this, they will mouth all the correct words to you, then either move to some place where the median household income is $93k and the population density is 550/km2, or just use a car.

The ones that won't are the ones that can't, and are those who are the least able to afford losing their vehicle - the poor.

We can make security mechanisms a part of our transit strategy, such as locking bikestands, or custom keys for golf carts, and registration at city hall for all these vehicles, but all of these micromobility options are inherently lower security than cars, and crime within the town must be handled accordingly.

TL;DR

Math regarding density and speed of transit suggests that a town with the density of 2,500 residents / km2, multiple times the density of U.S. suburbs (with numbers like 500 / km2 or 700 / km2) could be economically viable, if it had a second transport network based on golf carts, bicycles, e-scooters, and so on. This level of density would allow each resident to have a yard and maintain the car-like point-to-point mobility, despite lower use of resources and space.

#concrete and steel #urban planning #urbanism #misneyland #longpost #long post #effortport #mitigated future

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wasalwaysagreatpickle · 4 years

Text

Thursday 7 August 1828

5 40/60

The mail not starting from our house this morning, off to the Bush at 6 1/2 – paid my fare (by the way imposed on – inconsequence of opposition, the fare reduced from 20/. [shillings] to 16/. [shillings] as confessed by the Landlord at Selkirk; but, said he, passengers forwarded from Liverpool still pay 20/. [shillings], and if a place is secured the night before, they make you pay additional (nonsense!) – they [cutely] made me pay 20/. [shillings] thinking me a stranger and that I should not find it out) – mounted behind the coachman – sat waiting above 1/4 hour, and off at 6 3/4 –

Fine rich well-wooded country – capital road – 6 miles from Carlisle, cross the small river line and here begins Sir James Graham’s property, and extends 4 miles beyond Longtown i.e. as far as we have to go in England – 8 miles from Carlisle the nice, neat, large, old village church, the nice small village (1/2 dozen houses?), and the very pretty wood-hidden parsonage of Arthuret (reverend Fergus Graham, uncle to Sir James Graham) –

Change horses at Longtown (good little brick town) at 7 35/60 in 4 minutes – on driving along the town, look down upon Sir James’ prettily wooded farm houses – at the end of the town pass narrow 5 arch stone bridge over the broad gravelly bedded Esk rather low just now, but a good river – cross it 4 times this ‘beautiful stage, said our coachman – at 7 3/4 turn right, and see (right distant) among fine woods croft head a largeish white house where the present Sir James lived during his father’s life – Esk close, right - at 7 55/60 (11 miles from Carlisle) apparently in front of Netherby Hall, at a considerable distance right, large white house, among fine and extensive woods – ‘beautiful place’ (said the coachman) ‘but fronts the tother way’ –

Several stooks of barley cut, (the 1st corn cut save the oats going to Dumfries on Monday and hay in cock here, and nearer Carlisle in Swathe – at 8 two turnpikes very near together, and better than a little ditch that parts England and Scotland, and here begins the duke of Bucleugh’s property – we go 30 miles in his estate which reaches to Hawick – great many [?] houses by the way – all belong to the duke –

At 8 10/60 very pretty, picturesque, wooded, white village of [Gannaby] (as pronounced) – good, new church little distance right – broad gravel-bedded Esk just below us right, and cross 3 arch-bridge over it – water very low now – beautiful here – at 8 25/60 little village of Car-saddle, white straw thatched and some blue slated cottages – (as prounounced) – river below – rocky bed – wooded banks, with large high 1 arch-bridge which we cross – very beautiful at a short distance (right) Glenochy castle Johnny Armstrong – square tower with the 2 high gables of the ruined roof still standing at the top – 20 minutes through a wood (some fine picturesque Swiss firs in it, with some good larches here and there – how infinitely the best of the fir-tribe and the Swiss fir!), and at 8 3/4 cross the Esk again (2 arch-bridge) pass a whiskey-distillery, and at 8 53/60 enter the neat little town of Langholm – ‘Tis certainly a ‘beautiful’ richly wooded drive from Longtown to Langholm – well satisfied to have come –

Changing horses or watering generously take 5 minutes – off from Langholm at 8 57/60 – Langholm lodge (the duke’s shooting box – he sometimes comes to shoot) near the town, [if] the [valley] (left) – From Langholm go along Ewesdale unlived by here and there a white farm house or cottage – the Ewes (close, right) a small stream running along the foot of the green, high, rounded topped very occasionally rather heathery Lillip Hills –

At 9 50/60 turn left into Moss fall glen – very fine and very beautiful, green glen, or pass – just wide enough for the road and the Throstleybird burn (right) – ‘tis 2 fine ranges of the Lillup hills that form this short but fine glen – at moss fall house (very neat yellow-washed – little Inn – lone house) at 10 – fine and sunshiny – the glen widens out a little here – the stables in Dumfriesshire – the house in Roxburghshire – this is the highest ground – from here the waters run different ways, and the Throstley burn ceases to run westwards, and runs Eastwardly - at 10 35/60 the Throstley burn falls into the Tiviot, and we henceforward proceed along the fine dale of Tiviot –

At 11 1/2 stop at the Tower Inn, Hawick, a good dark-coloured stone built town – market day – a cold collation laid out in the coffee room – 3 coffee room compartments in divisions – have not met with this before – not having had an[y] breakfast, sat down determined to make the best of the 1/4 hour allowed – had it all to myself – ate 1 1/2 leg of the fowl and some good new potatoes – much the better, and on the coach again (had had the box seat from Langholm), and off at 11 3/4 – at the end of the town cross narrow 3 arch stone bridge over the broad shallow Tiviot – then hilly road over high, plain, almost unenclosed ground all the way to Selkirk – at 12 1/4 view for a while of the Eildon hills see only 2 summits (the 3rd much lower and not seen I should suppose unless from near) vide Scotland tourist 309/415, at 12 1/2 little village, and cross (1 arch-bridge) the Ale-water, a small stream – descend up upon Selkirk, surrounded by plain hills, and at 1 10/60 alight at the Inn there and leave the mail – (it would reach Edinburgh between 4 and 5?) – It seems, I have little chance of getting the 4/. returned I paid too much for my place this morn[in]g – however the landlord here very civil – goodish little darkish-coloured stone built town –

Off at 1 40/60 for Melrose in a very uneasy though neat-looking gig – roughish old-paved road – the rather broadish shallow pretty Ettrick river below us, left – falls into the Tweed about 2 miles? below Selkirk – about 4 miles from Selkirk (left) Abbotsford, Sir Walter Scott – he built it by [degrees] – just below the house the Gala water falls into the Tweed – an irregular, old-style, castellated (label-windowed) sort of English manor-house – of dark coloured stone white corner-stones – the sort of castle-court gateway, too of white stone – curious sort of iron-rail gothic screen parts the garden from the court, yet allows it to be seen – a Tower at each of 3 of the corners of the house – 1 tower round, 1 square and 1 hexagon or octagon? – a large flag flying – the boy-driver knew not why – but ‘Sir Walter always had it flying on some days’ – walked down to the house, and looked at the outside for 5 minutes – the short approach road, a broad walk through a young plantation, rather shrubbery like at present – well wooded in the distance – [genteely] looking place – will not be seen from the road when the plantation gets up – fine valley – 1st view of Melrose abbey about 1/2 mile from Melrose – does not look well – the square tower low, too large, and smooth, and even looking – as if lately built – the rest of the ruin huddled on a heap – not at all picturesque as these seem in the distance – the red-shingle sided Eildon hills (right) fine –

Alight at the George Inn, Melrose, at 3 10/60 – somehow feel languid, rather lightheaded, and tired?

No motion this morning

Read the Scotland tourist – take 1/4 hour’s nap – had nodded and dozed every now and then as I came along this morning – not certainly a safe situation for so doing – go out at 4 1/2 to the abbey – a very nice woman shew it – her husband a man of genius, John Bower, had had a [draw], and could not come to me – very fine ruin – unquestionably finer than that at Elgin? – the finest far I have seen in Scotland, or anywhere? – vide Scotland tourist 306/415 et seq. – the carving ‘like lace-work’ is the curly leaf of the Scotch Kale, very beautiful on the capital of the great pillar at the head of the south side the nave – the woman asked me to her house to see her husband’s drawings – surprised to find him quite a self-taught artist – beautiful little pencil sketch (south east view – the best) of the abbey 9/. worth it – had sold almost all of any kind – bought a rough lithograph of this view, and ditto of abbotsford –

Came back to the Inn at 6 50/60 – would wait till they baked me some [ned] cakes (of flower and cream in the frying pan) – went out again – past the good new church handsome spire, the rest like a common methodist meeting house, as usual in Scotland – the body of the church of darkish-reddish stone ditto the tower up to the roof of the building – the spire part of white stone – curious, unpleasing effect – down to the new suspension bridge built by subscription of the inhabitants – opened 26 October 1826 – about 11 1/2 yards slope up to the pillars – each pillar about 2 yards by 2 feet – height I cannot guess – the bridge over the water (between the pillars) 98 yards long – 1 3/4 yard wide – very neat thing – pillars very neat – battlemented at the top – red sandstone – walked into the picturesque little wood [?] village of Gattonside –

Returned a different way into the town – and got back to the Inn at 7 3/4 – tea – the ned cakes very good – read Scotland tourist – speak to the landlord – send my luggage by the coach tomorrow to Jedburgh, and walk myself in order to see all by the way – settle accounts wrote out journal of today – all which had taken me till 12 – very fine day – though felt cold this morning till after Hawick – went to my room at 12 -

#anne lister #1828 #scotland #anne lister code breaker

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Lucky Shot Pt 4

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 -

The crafts were readied and packed as you softly groaned smoothing your hands around the back of your neck stirring Thorin’s eyes to you as he held the gate open on his cart, “Perhaps it is best you rest for today? Surely another can claim your place.”

Ronan turned to face him saying, “It is not a straining task to pilot the craft.”

Thorin wet his lips, “We were only going to suggest your rest due to your treasured condition.”

Your brow inched up and Bilbo explained for him, “I do apologize, I made a comment and it, got away from me…But you are expecting and you should rest, your back especially, a hunch is not good for you or your little one.”

Gamora now at your side asked, “How did you learn this?”

Bilbo chuckled, “Not a Hobbit alive who couldn’t spot an expecting mother in a hundred yards distance through a crowd. We can feel it. Life, new life, rather.”

Nebula, “A form of psychic power then, interesting.”

Bilbo looked to you, “Psychic.. In any case we all simply wish for you especially to be well rested and cared for. It is no burden and caring for yourself and child is all we wish for you to focus on. None of our races would dare harm you, should that have been why you had kept it to yourself.”

Balin nodded his head, “With our bairns so few and far between, just as Thorin stated, it is a greatly treasured state.”

Ronan’s hand settled on your shoulder saying, “I will summon another to pilot in your place. Rest and take hourly scans to mark your progress.”

You nodded and joined the men inside the cart they sealed behind you in shifting to reveal the pile of packs they set up for you to lounge back against in the appearance of a lowly pink Kree who took the pilot seat after a respectful nod to Ronan who approved his silent request to do so. Ronan made certain you were settled before starting the ripple of kick starts and steady pull away while you shrugged out of your coat you set over your lap to properly align the scanner net over your watermelon sized bump widening the Dwarves’ and Bilbo’s eyes at how far along you were.

In looking them over you said, “I was expecting when I was taken.”

Thorin nodded as Dwalin said, “Eru’s work no doubt. To keep your family from severing in childbirth alone.”

Balin, “Your Husband should be pleased to not have missed it.”

Thorin sighed, “Though we do not find much common ground, between here and home sits Rivendell. I am certain Lord Elrond would not object to your birthing there. By my guess you are near your time. Few weeks at the most.”

Gloin began to ask a series of questions to compare to his Wife’s final months to gauge how long you might have left. Only to fall silent at the hologram appearing earning a round of gasps turning Ronan’s head to see them inching closer to the image of your stretching child that nestled into a ball again after a rippling wave of its fingers stirring chuckles from the men. “What sort of magic is this?”

Your eyes locked, “Not magic, just pulses sent through the body and when they return to the sensors it projects what it bounced off of.” Wetting your lips you said, “If one of you could lend me your hands.” Ori, the only one with a bare hand offered his and watched as you removed the net from your stomach to wrap it around his hand parting his lips showing him his skeletal hand, “See, and there is no damage at all. Just a way to see what is hidden under our skin and monitor babies especially. She hasn’t turned downwards yet, so I still have some time.”

Thorin softly whispered, “A girl.” A grin spreading across his face, “Quite a blessing.”

For the next hour you relaxed and laid your head back closing your eyes to listen to the world around you only to feel a gentle tug drawing you towards something. A warm set of arms embraced you once again as in your trance your eyes opened to a wave of white hair sliding over the shoulder of the Elf King clutching you to his chest again, “I apologize. Whole heartedly. I was distracted by a messenger carrying Mithrandir’s letter.”

“I understand.”

Drawing back he looked you over seeing the curious inspection of his tent holding a simple cot and his bags, “Would you prefer a different location? Perhaps the Western Gardens in Rivendell.” The tent faded at once and you watched the flock of colorful birds floating on the breeze above the gardens stemming from a private balcony you were standing on.

The sway of the sheer silken curtains around the railings turned your head to the lounge and table set up with juice and snacks his hand motioned to through his dark green shorter and armored riding robes shifting to his usual floor length decorative style in a soft yellow. “Please, sit, rest.” Moving with you he ensured the pillows were amply fluffed then sat by your feet, now bare under a flowing shirt and silken pants. Gently he raised your legs to his thigh and began to rub your lower legs one at a time. “Do you have a clue yet as to how far you are? Mithrandir’s letter gauged you at arriving in Rivendell in a month’s time.”

You shook your head, “Now he is assured we are barely a week away, if that.” His eyes lowered to his lap, in a tilt of your head you asked, “Is there something wrong?”

He looked up with a soft grin, “Not at all. I was merely counting out the hours to prepare for your arrival.”

“No need -,”

He shook his head, “Nieninque, you are returning to me after centuries away. In the least I will have a meal readied for you and a bed if you need to rest. Legolas is determined to ensure you get plenty, insisted in his own letter to Lord Elrond to gift you the best mattress for our usual apartment.” His eyes scanned over you again anxiously, “Mithrandir mentioned, you had lost your memories?”

“I am remembering now. Most of our lives. Though, I fear-,”

Inching closer to you his hands circled yours folded together on your lap, “What has you fearful?”

“That I am changed. The new me will be offensive or unattractive-,”

His hands cupped your cheeks and firmly he kissed your lips and hummed against them in his retracting press of his forehead to yours, “I could never find you offensive or unattractive. You are nearly home with us again. Our second child is nearly here. I love you, and I will wait for eternity to pass over once more if that is how long it takes for you to feel safe and loved unabashedly again in our home. I am changed, Legolas is grown, but we will be together again,” his tearful gaze locked onto yours in the inching back of his head, “There is no need to fear. We will protect you.”

“We believe we killed the machine powering the portal that took me. The explosion is how we got here. I don’t believe it will be of any use how we left it.”

Stirring a smirk onto his face, “No doubt with your attack it is in utter shambles well beyond repair.” Again his thumb stroked along your cheek at the deepening of his gaze, “I have never wished for a week to pass sooner since I was a boy and you were gone ten years between our meetings. It has never been a simple task to mind our time apart no matter the small gaps between.”

A soft call of a child crying out, “Ada!”

Thranduil’s lips parted and at your looking over his curious expression he rambled out, “King Arathorn, his widow came to our gates and upon her sailing West left the boy in my charge. Red and Rin have taken to him handsomely, you know how the pair refuse to accept strangers, but thick as thieves they are as they had been with our Little Leaf. I-,”

His words were cut off at your hand resting on his cheek to plant your lips to his for a kiss, “Then it seems both our boys will have to learn to mold their days around their baby sister. As will their uncles.”

“Si-,” his eyes looked you over and hands pressed around your stomach, “You are certain? Our child is a daughter?”

You nodded, “You can see for yourself when we meet in Rivendell.”

“How?”

At the boy’s call you giggled softly and kissed his lips again and whispered, “Go on now. Before he gains Little Leaf’s support in dragging you away.”

Chuckling lowly he leaned in for one last lingering kiss then purred against your lips, “Hurry along please, my Love.”

The room faded and muffled around you the Dwarves all chatted as you seemed to be transferred to a beach where you eyed the sea birds soaring above the waves on the breeze. Around you in deep echoes the voices of the Company seemed to grow more concerned as you remained in the trance like state joined by Ronan and the others when camp was finally set up. The frenzy was calmed finally at Gandalf’s reminder that you needed to rest for your condition. Three full days you were shifted from bed to the cart again between Ronan’s dripping water and the prenatal supplements shifted to liquid form so you did not miss any doses with extra scans being taken. All showing a surplus of power being built up in you and the infant leaving them to assume that your body was readying for the nearing birth. Alone you would wander feeling stronger by the day between stolen moments with your loving Husband, who was all too eager to hold and kiss you at least in some way until he could openly welcome you to his friend’s home.

In your steady signs of waking from your supposedly self induced coma overhead storm clouds brewed turning the heads of Bilbo and the Company upwards. Mumbling to himself at the faint scent of snow Bilbo pondered, “Odd thing, snow this late in the spring.”

Behind him Gandalf chuckled and nodded his head towards you in your being tucked in with a warming blanket by Ronan, “Tis not your average snow.” Turning their heads to the Wizard freshly arrived from another bout of wandering with a grin widening by the moment, “But a warning rather, of the Lady’s return.”

Thorin’s brow inched up, “Just why would the Valar send snow to warn of her coming?”

Ronan grinned, “Clearly they require time to sate her preferences and usual demands.”

Gandalf peered at him for a moment then looked to Bilbo and Thorin again, “It was always the way. Her arrival would bring a heavy snowfall even in the hottest Junes to date and all the brighter once it melted the kingdoms would flourish.”

Nebula, “Her favor has that impressive of an impact on the lands she chooses? How could she bring about snow then a flourish to kingdoms she claims?”

Balin wet his lips, “I do believe he means when the snow melts the crops, orchards and gardens flourish.”

Ronan, “Then in displeasing her she brings about famine then with her heavy snows?”

Gandalf shook his head, “Not that I am aware. For Elves they are bound with great abilities. Some are gifted with great musical talents, others with more difficult forms of crafting, those with a more subtle hand, and a select few such as Nin, who can bring about snow flurries granting plenty after it has thawed. Those gifts are granted and managed by the Valar.”

Gamora, “I am certain if she intended this snow of hers could do a great deal of damage.”

Gandalf sighed, “I do not understand your Kree entirely, though from the little we have learned I must insist you know little to nothing of her people.” Raising a brow on Ronan’s face, “They do not openly seek war and are quite peaceful when treated with respect. To continuously insist that Nin is a weapon of some sort and to be feared by her people is far from the truth! She is a wife and mother, her people treasure her company and presence greatly with her light and uplifting manner! Even her sculpting, though startling to some, as if they were alive and merely between breaths, is greatly treasured and a skill much sought after by other sculptors. Even the blades she has crafted, with lessons from the best of her race to rival some of the finest crafters alive today. How you have managed to live with her for centuries and see her as nothing but a piece in some war game is beyond my wildest imaginings!”

Korath, “She is far beyond a weapon for us.”

Ronan, “She is my child. I only wish that her husband is worthy of her.”

Thorin huffed, “They are Ones. Meaning they are perfectly matched. You could not find a finer match for her and no matter the efforts none could sever the bond between them.”

Ronan, “I have no intentions of breaking any bonds. There is no telling the damage done to my Nin if I tried.”

Balin, “A suggestion, if I may?” Ronan nodded his head for Balin to continue, “Perhaps, to not take offense if her husband and brother try to put some distance between you at first. For all their knowing she was taken and bought by you” Ronan’s lips parted and Balin’s hand tilted for a moment in front of his belly, “no matter how deeply you feel for her,” Ronan’s lips closed, “You claimed her as your kin, though for centuries they have missed her terribly.”

Ronan nodded through a deep inhale and exhale, “I will grant them their time alone, however, I am to aid in birthing my grandchild and they will not bar me from that right.”

Gloin’s disapproving growl came as your eyes fluttered open. Again the voice of your adopted son had ended your meeting and groggily you inched your head to the side to say, “We are to the mountains already?”

At your sitting up again you were scanned and helped over to the fire to claim your helping of the lunch waiting for you. A distant crunch sounded through the circle of trees you had stood to inspect turning slowly. At the raking of your eyes over the trees Pietro neared you asking, “What do you see?”

“Nothing, but I can hear something moving.”

Pietro nodded, “On it!” Racing off through the trees to inspect for anything while Gamora and Nebula moved to your sides with Wanda’s hands lighting up as her eyes glowed in searching telepathically for any creatures.

On the side Fili and Nori were bound up in sacks wiggling and squirming leading to the Dwarves circling up with Thorin mumbling, “Bilbo, where’s Bilbo?!”

Gloin growled out, “And the Wizard has abandoned us as well!”

All at one a scream was heard and a large body rolled into the clearing with Pietro halting behind him to pick up the key falling from his pocket, shifting his hold on the large stick he had no doubt whacked the now upright troll with. Two more at Pietro’s vanishing were shoved and beaten into the clearing where they wound their arms back, one of which was holding Bilbo, though not for long at Wanda’s levitating him free to her side. At the snatching of the stick from Pietro, who was thrown through the trees you stepped forward whispering in Gondolian with your glowing hand raised, all at once your body glowed and then a pulse of light exploded from you stirring pained screams fading and dying from the now stone trolls. With lips parted the Dwarves neared them tapping their bodies with their axes before cheers and chuckles were given and Wanda eyed you curiously as to what you were capable of even when so very heavily pregnant.

Turning your head to Thorin you said, “If I remember correctly, Trolls cannot survive sunlight. No doubt the storm gave them cover, but even then I doubt they would risk it.”

A smirk eased onto his lips, “Meaning there’s a hoard somewhere.” At once you found out their trail that led you through the trees to a small knot of boulders melded into an awkward little cave all off on its own.

Once at the door Pietro passed you the key and the men gave the door a shove stirring an instant gag from you calmed at a mask Ronan drew from his pouch to filter the air for you he secured around your mouth and nose. Lowly humming by your ear, “No leaving you outside.”

Inching inside you saw the stone walls warmed and stretched from their former place as separate boulders into a hiding place. Curiously Bilbo eyed the food with Bombur then followed after you seeing your path towards the shelf of weapons. Ronan took note of your reach for one of the long swords you raised and unsheathed luring Gandalf as well.

Ronan, “Is it well forged?”

Weakly you chuckled as you eyed the top portion of the blade, “Yes it is. Forged it myself.” Ronan smirked at that, finally seeing a hint of your formerly hidden talents, “Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, I forged this for King Turgon.”

Ronan, “You were a Smith for Kings then?”

“He was a friend of my family. Fought with my brother until he fell, died as his city was destroyed. Long ago in the great wars of the First Age.” Turning your head you looked to Gandalf, “I have a feeling you will need this.”

He bowed his head, “Thank you. I will wield it with great pride.”

The next sword you drew out was long and curved on one side, this one you passed to Thorin, “Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver, bourn by Lord Ecthellion, my brother’s greatest friend.” Thorin as well thanked you heartily while you eyed the double swords resting there lastly you raised and shouldered in grabbing the smallest of the collection you passed to Bilbo. The Hobbit eyed it carefully then accepted it from you, “This should do nicely for your size. No chance we are taking you through those mountains unarmed.”

Bilbo nodded and Balin neared him to help in strapping the blade to his waist in your move to the treasure hidden in the back corner Nebula and Korath were scanning while Gamora sat staring at a small portrait of a fish that seemed to be giving off a pulse. Crouching down you asked, “All gold?”

Nebula glanced up at you, “No hidden traps or qualities.”

Korath leaned over and passed you a small folding portrait, “All gold but this. It’s contents are more curious.”

Opening it you couldn’t help but let out a wry chuckle seeing portraits of your parents and one of you on Glori’s lap as a child, “This was my brother’s. He must have had this when he first died.”

Over your shoulder Gandalf peered saying, “A hoard from Gondolin, curious. Though clearly possible it was stolen from a thief who took claim of it from another and so on, as most of these hoards go. It does make one wonder what lost treasures are withheld in Moria still as the greatest of Goblin hoards.”

Thorin, “There is no army alive reckless enough to risk the Mines of Moria. Not since Azanulbizar.”

Korath and Ronan smirked, “Do not be so hasty to presume my forces would not march on this Moria.”

Thorin’s lips parted, “You would march on Moria? For what gain?”

Ronan, “If my Nin gave the inkling that she wished to see these halls restored we would aid you in its return. These goblins are pests to your kin, no doubt they would be easy to cleanse from those halls. None better than the Kree for such a task.”

Gandalf looked to you and you said, “First, I will get some air. Rivendell next to handle this birthing matter and then we can talk about battles and reclaiming homelands.”

Thorin’s head bowed to you, “For your aid we will be eternally in your debt.”

All you did was shake your head and lead the Kree out of the cave while Nebula remained guiding the Dwarves in loading up a special box able to hold all the gold she passed to them after on her way to join you.

Back to the carts you went as your eyes turned upwards to the looming clouds above in their release of a single snowflake. Down through a small ravine that grew the farther you passed down into it on the zigzag path until a clearing was found already starting to gain another thin layer to the snow waiting there. A grin settled onto your face in stepping away from the group with hands smoothing over your belly in walking farther towards the edge of a small creek passing through it. Small colorful fish swirled under the surface luring you to crouch and dip your hand under the surface sending them into faster swirls between your parted fingers.

Rising up again at the call to return to camp you caught the glares between Ronan and Gandalf making you sigh and go to sit beside the warrior to take his hand yours folded around stirring a grin onto his face, “It is uncomfortable I know. But things will settle. Our little family is about to grow.”

Making him chuckle and shift his hand to settle on your stomach, “We cannot wait to see the little one. This will be the most fiercely guarded child in all of the universe.”

“I do not believe we are far now. This clearing seems familiar. Though it was such a long time ago.”

Pt 5

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Ronan x Reader OC

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natashaashleymarvelromanoff · 5 years

Text

I'm So Glad You’re Back - Chapter 5

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Epilogue

See you in a minute

After Tony had refused to help them with their plan, Scott and Natasha made their way to find Bruce. Or professor hulk as he was called now. It was still a little strange to see Bruce as the hulk but she'd gotten used to it by now. However, Scott was mesmerised. She even had to elbow him a few times since he lost concentration because he was staring at Bruce so much. She supposes to be fair on his part he hadn't actually met Bruce before so seeing him like this would have been a lot to process.

They had met in the diner for lunch and told Bruce about their plans, Bruce had been more than happy to help them. He understood how his friends must have been feeling and he too would do anything to get their lost friends back.

….

Now back at the compound the next day, Bruce, Scott and Natasha had set up some equipment that attached to Scott's ugly brown van and Bruce had set up his station to control where Scott's presence in the quantum realm so that he didn't get lost.

But once they started up the machine and sent Scott into the quantum realm. It went a little wrong. Okay, maybe a lot wrong. Somehow they managed to turn Scott into a teenager, old man and baby before they had to cut the power and bring the normal Scott back.

As Bruce and Scott argued about how to fix the technical equipment to make it work, Natasha left the room. Opening the doors to the outside hangar, the Russian walked over to one of the pillars, leaned against it and let out a deep sigh. She felt defeated.

How were they supposed to get everyone back if they couldn't even help Scott travel safely through the quantum realm?

Maybe all this was a lost cause. She thought.

Deep in her unhopeful thoughts, Natasha didn't notice the car pulling down the driveway until it was a few yards away. Whipping her head up at the sound of the engine, the redhead instantly recognised the sleek Audi as Tony's.

Pulling up alongside her, Tony parked the car, got out and walked over to her.

“So let me guess. You turned Scott into a baby?” the genius sniggered at her with a smirk on his face.

Jutting her chin to the side in annoyance since she knew Tony was right, the first female avenger nodded and rolled her eyes at him.

Tony’s smirk getting even bigger he also laughed a little louder which in turn, made Natasha give in to laughing too.

“Yeah, and an old man. I don't think its gonna work tony.” Still smiling at the events from a few minutes ago, Natasha voiced her worries to tony, her smile faulting slightly.

“Well that's a shame, I guess I'll just head home them and not share my super awesome time travel plans with you, you know since I figured it out.”

As tony turned to walk back to his car, Natasha's eyes widened. Only realising what her friend had said.

"What did you just say?” Almost running the short distance between her and Tony, she looked up at him with hopeful eyes, but she was also in disbelief.

"I figured it out nat. I know how to time travel, and it's completely safe.” his brown eyes beamed at her when he told Natasha. He still couldn't believe it himself, to be honest.

If it wasn't for that picture of Peter he had saved in his kitchen, he doesn't think he ever would have tried to figure it out.

When he saw that picture it stirred some feelings inside of him. He loved that kid. Tony knew he never said it but he did. Yeah, he was annoying at times and was a pain in the ass but he loved the kid. It hurt to even think about him. Of course after he got back from space he had asked about his aunt may and friends, but unfortunately, they hadn't made it. Tony still felt guilty to this day. And he was sure if it was any other time he saw that picture of the two of them he would have just thought about Peter and put it back down. But Scott and Natasha's words had stuck with him all day. That photo. That photo was his reason to at least try and he did.

"Oh my god. You did it? wait. I thought you said you didn't want any part in this?” Natasha hopeful face transformed into a confused one.

“I know, but then I realised you were right. As much as I hate to admit that to your stupid face. We have a chance again. After 5 years and we should take it. But Tasha, if we're gonna do this, we need to make sure that we don't change anything. I don't want to risk losing the life I have now. And I'm sure you don't want to either.” Tony really hated admitting she was right, and naturally, she was loving it, listening to his words with a smirk of her face.

"Of course, I don't. I don't want to lose anything either. All I want is to bring everyone back.” Natasha's face softened as she watched tony.

"Okay then. Let's get started.”

As tony shuffled backwards to go to the boot of his car, Natasha stopped in her place, only just realising that something was missing. Or rather someone.

“Wait. Wheres James?”

“Oh yeah I forgot to tell you, I figured since we were gonna build a time machine it would be best to not have a 5-year-old running around near it just in case we lost him in the 1700s by accident.” Tony joked at her. Laughing at him, Natasha just agreed with him. He was right. She didn't want James near any of it just in case something went wrong.

Then after she had laughed at him, Tony pulled something out of his boot. Natashas breath caught in her throat as she instantly recognised the rounded surface.

Steve shield.

“I figured if we're gonna do this, you should have this. I don't know why I didn't give it back to you before but I guess better late than never.

You don't have to use it of course, but I just thought to have this on you, it would almost feel like he's there with you.”

Taking the large shield of him, Natasha felt her eyes brimming. She tried to sniff her nose to keep them from falling and she flashes the genius a smile. She remembered the last she saw it, back in Germany. Nearly 7 years ago now. Even though she wanted to take it with her on their mission, she knew she couldn't. It was steves shield, if something happened to her she didn't want to take it.

“Thank you, Tony.” She told him, in the sincerest voice she could. She really was thankful.

Tony and Natasha let themselves back inside where Tony explained he had figured out how to time travel. After a few hours. The 4 had the beginning of a plan. First, get everyone back on earth, then build the machine inside the hangar. They didn't have a solid plan on what to do exactly once they had built the time machine but a vague plan was formed to get the stones first before Thanos could get them.

As the boys got on with building the time machine, Natasha made video calls to all of their fellow Avengers and Guardians. She didn't explain in detail but Natasha had told them that they had a new plan on how to get everyone back and she would explain when they got here. Unfortunately, she couldn't reach carol but once Carol saw her video calls she was sure her son’s aunt would come as soon as possible.

Rocket and Nebula where the first ones to come back home as well as Rhodey.

Herself, Scott, Tony and Bruce explained to them all their plan. Most of them are sceptical at first but once Tony had explained that the details and that he was confident it would work, they accepted it. It also helped that rocket was on board with the plan and was also confident that it would work.

That left only Clint and Thor. Once Rhodey had returned to the compound he had informed Natasha that he thinks he knows where Clint is. This is the closest they have gotten to finding him. It was either now or never.

Natasha took the opportunity immediately. If anyone was going to get him it was going to be her. She hadn't seen him in 5 years. She had missed him so much. He was her oldest friend in this world and Natasha was determined to bring him back, and hopefully telling him about their new plan would convince him.

Since it had been nighttime where Thor was when they had been building the machine, she couldn't call him until it was the day for him, but since she was on her way to Tokyo she had Bruce make the call instead. Bruce had informed her that Thor would be at the compound by the end of the day. Natasha was relieved to hear it. She knew Thor had been depressed since the snap and she tried her best to make him feel better. She'd been there before so if there was anything she could do to help one of her closest friends she would.

…..

Arriving in Tokyo Natasha turned on the Quinjet's stealth mode, to make sure Clint wouldn't hear or see her and run.

As she walked through the alleyway littered with bodies Natasha approached the former archer. Now known as Ronin to his victims and enemies.

His back was turned to her as she stepped closer, then when she stopped, her oldest friend removed his hood. She couldn't help but think he looked different. His hair. His face. His eyes. They were the eyes of a distraught man. A man who had lost his entire family. But no matter what he had done, no matter what happened Clint would always be her friend and she would never judge him on his actions. He never judged her, instead, he saved her all those years ago. And she was just about to return that favour.

Natasha knew she maybe treading on eggshells when she moved closer to him but she needed him to know she still loved him. After all this time, She was finally speaking to him again.

“Clint. Killing all these people isn't going to bring your family back. We found something. A chance maybe…” her voice was soft, the same voice she used to speak to James when he was sad.

"Don't” Clint's voice was harsh as he spoke. The first words she had hear him say in 5 years.

"Don't what?”

“Give me hope” his voice broke. Throughout the years he had held onto hope that one day his wife and children would come back, but as time and time went on, he lost that hope. Clint didn't know if he could handle having that hope ripped away from him again.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you sooner” she took another step closer. Just an arm's length away. The colourful neon signs were their only source of light as the former spy looked at her friend. Slowly raising her arm, she took Clint's hand in her own. Trying her best to comfort him right now.

It took a few minutes for Clint to agree to leave with her, but once he did they both made their way to the quinjet and set course to the compound in New York.

The ride home wasn't too long since they had taken the quinjet, but Clint had been near enough quiet the entire time. She had spoken to him and he had just listened. Natasha told him about their friends, who had survived and who didn't. The guardians and Carol who were their space team. But she neglected to mention James and morgan. Natasha didn't think telling him about her son and Tony's daughter would be the best idea, especially since he had lost his own kids and was still mourning for them.

Once the two former assassins arrived back at the compound they were greeted by their team and thor who had arrived just a few hours before them.

Thor had looked quite sad when Clint laid eyes on him, he still kinda looked the same since the last time he saw him, but his long hair was slightly scruffier like he hadn't brushed it in a while and he looked smaller if that was even possible. It was almost like he’d lost some of the bulk of his muscle. But once the god's eyes landed on nat, they lit up, with a smile on his face to accompany them. He almost considered it strange at first until he realised that they probably kept in contact for the past few years. Natasha had told him about what happened to Thor before Thanos came. It didn't surprise him after that, that the god and Natasha would be close.

After greeting Thor with a smile and a big bear hug, Natasha made it a point to notice how far their time travel machine was coming on and impressively they had almost finished thanks to Rockets help. Natasha figured him and Tony would get this done quick, not that Bruce wasn't a big help but he was a bit too big to get into the smaller details although he did do most of the heavy lifting and Scott helped with the engineering, when he volunteered to do it everyone had given him a quizzical look, until he reminded everyone about his degrees.

This was it, they were almost there. Not long now.

It had been so long since Clint had been at this stupid compound. Now that he thinks about it, it has been almost 7 years. He remembered setting of the alarms off base so he could get wanda out. Wanda. It hurt to know she had gone too. He felt responsible for her after her brother sacrificed himself for him, she was so young too. He almost thought of her as a daughter.

As he followed Natasha through the compound to the common room, Clint got lost in his thoughts, thinking about all of his friends. It wasn't until his foot kicked something on the floor that he was broken out of his trance.

Looking down, Clint noticed that the thing he had kicked was a toy? Furrowing his eyebrows he stared at the child's toy in confusion.

Natasha had walked further on than him into the kitchen, not noticing his frozen posture.

As clint stared at the toy at his feet, the father of 3 started to notice more toys. They almost littered the floor if It wasn't for a box in the corner that had been placed there to keep them tidied away.

There were crayons scattered across the table, drawings covering the walls. Toy cars on the floor placed to look like they were racing each other. As clint looked around the room his eyes started to well. Seeing all these toys, it reminded him of home. His kids. Cooper, Lila and Nate.

Natasha hadn't noticed clint had stopped to stare at the toys in the room until she turned around to hand him a cup of coffee. Stopping instantly in her tracks she grimaced at the look on her friends face. She didn't even think about James's toys when they had come back.

“Nat. who’s toys are these?”

Moving her feet so she could walk closer to clint, Natasha stopped in front of him. Placing the two cups onto the table, Natasha took a breath and looked him in the eye with a small smile on her face.

“They're my son’s.”

“What?” she had a son? That didn't make any sense. He thought she couldn't- Clint's eyebrows knitted themselves together even further, obviously curious about her answer.

“About a month after the snap, I found out I was 2 months pregnant.”

“2 months? But that means you got pregnant when you were- oh.” Clint's sudden realisation made him lose his voice. If she was pregnant when the snap happened, it meant she conceived the baby before. And before the snap, her sam and Steve were on the run together.

He knew that nat and Sam had just been friends and that's all. But Steve, nat and Steve were possibly even closer than him and her. They had been partners during shield. They had run the Avengers as co loaders after Ultron. And she had betrayed tony for him during the battle in Germany. He had no doubt, that Natasha's child was Steves. No doubt at all.

“Yeah” Natasha nodded at his silent conclusion. She leaned over to a cabinet at the side of the room and pulled a picture frame from it. The redhead passed it over to her friend for him to see.

It was a picture of her and James. She was pretty sure it had been pepper that took it one Christmas, James had a smile as big as a Cheshire cat on his face as she held him in her arms, both wearing garish red and green sweaters that lit up. A gift from tony of course.

“His name is James. James Samuel Clinton Rogers.” clients breath caught in his throat as he heard his name. She gave her son his name?

“Congratulations nat. Really. I know you would never admit it but I know you always wanted this. Even when you believed you could never have it. I'm really happy for you, and Steve. I know he isn't here but I know he’d to be so happy for you too.” as he finishes his sentence, Clint actually smiles at her. This was the first time she had seen him smile since she got him back. And she's guessing its probably the first time he's smiled in a long time. Leaning in she wraps her arms around her oldest friend embracing him into a hug. Clint was hesitant at first to receive the gentle contact. He hadn't been hugged in years. But once he felt the familiar feeling of safety with his friend, he instantly returned the gesture with the picture frame still in his hand..

“We're gonna do this Clint. We are. We're gonna get them back.” After pulling back from their hug Natasha reassured him of their goal. He nodded at her words to make her feel better but honestly, he was still trying to not give too much hope to the idea. Truthfully he was terrified that if he focused all his efforts and hope into bringing his family back and he failed, that he would completely lose himself and the man he was would never return. No matter who came to save him.

…..

It didn't take the Avengers long to work out a solid plan. With the help of everyone in the room, they figured out exactly where the stones had been before Thanos had taken them and even narrowed it down so that they didn't have to make multiple jumps

The plan was clear.

Jump back to the past. Get the stones. Do not let anything that already happened change. Jump back to the present. Use the stones with the new gauntlet. Bring everyone back. Return the stones to exactly where they got them from.

Sounds easy enough right? That's what they thought.

As Tony and nebula finished making the last of the bracelets for the team. The rest of the gang were planning on who would go to which destination to collect the stones.

Tony, Scott and Bruce would travel to 2012, during Loki's attack on New York to get the time, mind, and space stone.

Thor and rocket would go to Asgard in 2014. The same time Jane had been possessed by the reality stone.

Then Rhodey, Nebula, Natasha and Clint would jump to 2014 too. But rhodey and nebula would go after the power stone on Morag and Natasha and clint would fly the Benetar to Vormir, collecting the soul stone.

“Sounds good. Anyone wanna back out before its too late?” Clint questioned. Suddenly 9 pairs of eyes started to shift around the room, interested to see if anyone would do as Clint said.

But no one did. This was it. They finally had a chance, after 5 excruciating years of giving up hope. they were finally going to bring everyone they loved back.

…..

9 bodies stood on the platform around the time machine. 9 nervous people who wanted to bring their family back, and would do whatever it takes to do it.

They had all been silent with worry as they stood on the time machine. Natasha noticed the looks on her friend's faces and spoke up.

“5 years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends. We lost family and we lost a part of ourselves. Today we get a chance to take it all back. Remember your missions. Stick with your teams. Don't let anything mess this up. If you can, try to avoid changing anything that could affect us. We don't get do-overs. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight our lives. And we're going to win, whatever it takes. Does everyone understand.”

As she looked around at her team she saw each one nod at her. Following their orders from their captain. It was strange to be in charge of a team again, considering the last time she was it was with Steve, and with different teammates. But she fell right back into her old position.

“Shes really good at that huh?” Rocket piped up, making Natasha smirk at the little racoon.

Looking down from his height, Scott smiled at Rocket and agreed. He really was a big fan of the Avengers. Kiss ass.

“Okay, let's do this.” Tony said as they all punched in their coordinates and bruce activates the timer on the control panel. Then they waited for Friday to count down from ten, Natasha gave a final look to her team before they jumped and smiled as she said.

“See you in a minute.”

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distressedpanda · 5 years

Text

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 5

Warnings: Language, Violence, Blood

A/N: I know this is late but my town experienced a power outage yesterday. I am posting this now and hoping you forgive me.

This chapter is written mostly from Loki's POV. I wanted to show his mind set and motivations for future chapters. I am portraying a very vulnerable Loki, which I understand is slightly out of character. Call it artistic license, but I needed him that way and quickly.

As always let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Gunfire sounded across the lumber yard. Bullets ripping through the air, dangerously close. Crouching behind a stack of logs, clutching a far to still women tightly to his chest, was Loki.

Earlier

Everything had started rather monotonously. They had disembarked at there designated location and were given three hours to get in, get out, and meet up at the rendezvous. Keeping to the shadows, they moved well as a team, Loki had begrudgingly noticed. He hated to admit any positives in them being together, even to himself. But as they worked their way down to the basement level of the factory, he knew where she was without looking at her. That arc connecting them, even when she was out of sight. She seemed to be the same, moving with silent, graceful steps, with a stealth he had to admire. She didn't cast glances at him either, simply moving as she needed to cover him and have him covering her.

They had reached the basement without complication. It had appeared that no one was there. They hadn't run into any guards so far, which only worked to heighten Loki's suspicions and senses. But the nuclear material was present, along with an unarmed war head.

Loki moved quickly to the computers, as Iloa removed two of her daggers, standing behind him and surveying the perimeter around them. He worked quickly, nimble fingers flying across the keyboard, entering the access codes Banner had given them.

The container disarmed and Loki reached for it but was stopped short. He glanced over at Iloa with a questioning brow, her wrist laying across his forearm, dagger still in hand.

She flicked her eyes around the room, before returning them to him, “It's too easy,” she whispered in warning. “This place was covered with guards when we did surveillance,” she added.

He glanced around the room as well, it did seem easy. “I agree, but the material is here. We have to take it,” he whispered back.

She locked eyes with him for another second, before exhaling loudly and nodding. Lifting her arm away from his, “Wait,” she grabbed a metal suit case with a strap, off one of the tables and a pair of medical gloves from another. “Can't be to careful.”

He took the proffered items, slipping the gloves on and retrieving the container carefully. He placed it gently inside the padded case, removing the gloves and tossing them aside. Closing the case, he grabbed the strap slipping it over his head and arm. “Shall we?” He asked, lifting an arm to allow her to go first.

It was his first mistake.

She reached the bottom of the stairs before him. They were tucked at the back of the room, behind a wall. She stopped lifting her hands in surrender and backed away from the bottom step slowly. Loki halted as well, he couldn't see the threat but he understood the danger. She glanced out of the side of her eye at him in warning. He knew she was going to use her voice. Summoning his seiðr, his eyes flashing lime green, he nodded at her.

She began to hum low in her throat, a tune Loki hadn't heard before. He heard rather than saw when the guard went down, landing with a loud clatter and thud on the stairs. He began to move toward her again, dropping his seiðr.

His second mistake.

Iloa turned to Loki and smiled. And he didn't bother stopping the smile that worked its way onto his own lips.

The smile turned to anguish, when the shot rang out. Hitting her leg, she crumbled to the floor. He sprinted to her side. She screamed at the shooter, as Loki reached her and drug her away from the alcove. He thanked the Gods that her song hadn't affected him.

He was panicking, as he surveyed the injury. His heart double timing in his chest. She waved him off, “It's just a graze,” she said through her teeth, “Help me up.”

He did as she instructed, helping her back on her feet carefully. “Are you sure you should be standing?”

She put pressure on her leg and winced but stood with ease. “It's fine, I can heal it.” She began the tune he had heard before, “I told you it was too easy. We need to find another way out of here.”

He nodded, “Agreed, there are another set of stairs on the other side.” He pointed across the room and they took off across the space.

He stayed in front of her then, not letting her take point. They darted up the stairs, reaching a door at the top. Panting they both listened intently, him with his seiðr. Lime green eyes flashing, he nodded at her. Carefully he swung the door open, casting his magic out in an attempt to detect anyone coming there way. But he hadn't honed this part of his magic.

They rounded a corner and ten men where standing there waiting. They hadn't been moving so Loki's ability hadn't picked them up. Iloa started her hum but the men started firing before they could get the full affect.

Loki threw up a shield with his seiðr, as Iloa started taking the men down with her daggers. She was the picture of elegance, as she flung the Kunai through the air disarming the group. Her hair spinning around her body like a cape, she was so beautiful he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

When the final gun was on the ground, the men charged. “Hand-to-hand?” Iloa laughed smiling up at Loki. “Bring it,” she shouted at the advancing group.

Loki dropped the shield, summoning his own daggers. They went trough the group, like two spinning whirlwinds. Slashing, punching, kicking, they worked back to back to incapacitate the guards.

They stood victorious, grinning at each other. She quickly sang the Kunai back to her belt. “Let's go,” Loki nodded at her. He was having far to much fun, fighting at this woman's side. He had started to forget his fears, reaching out to grab her hand as they ran down the halls to escape. She giggled as she ran beside him.

Third mistake.

At every corner and staircase on there way out was a new group of guards. They worked together, laughing and revolving through the men with an intense violent energy.

Loki ended up removing his helmet to use as a weapon, leaving it impaled in a mans arm as he screamed to be released. While in the next hall, Iloa used Loki as a spring board, jumping off his bent legs and spiraling through the group. Kunai flying, until she landed behind them in a crouch, completely unscathed. He stood up, looking at her at the other end of the hall. He smiled, absentmindedly punching a charging guard in the face. His eyes still locked on hers, “You're pretty good at this.”

She giggled, as he made his way down the hall to join her, “You have no idea,” she teased, grabbing his hand and darting toward the exit again.

They made it outside to the lumber yard. They were so close to being free of this place.

He was so distracted by how good they were together, he didn't realize they were in danger again until the shooting began. Loki threw up his shield quickly. But not quick enough.

Fourth mistake.

Her hand slipped from his. Iloa went down, coughing up blood and this time she didn't get back up. His shield faltered, a bullet tearing into his shoulder. He roared with rage, sending daggers flying at the shooters. He took several of them out but not all.

He had to get Iloa out of there. Somewhere safe so he could heal her. Tucking the case around his body, he bent to retrieve her now deathly still frame from the ground. His shield wavering inconsistently at his back. Bullets ripped into his arms and legs. To hell with himself, he had to save her.

One bullet had hit her in the stomach, another just below her left shoulder. Far to close to her heart for Loki's comfort. Blood pored down the front of her leathers and ran down her chin, mixing with his own as he pulled her close to his chest.

He prayed silently to the Gods, as he sprinted behind a nearby stack of logs. Please. Please don't let her die. He begged.

Crouching behind the stack he pulled her closer, brushing her crimson hair away from her face. Her normally rosy cheeks, growing far to pale, “Don't leave me. Not now. Not yet,” he begged her now. But as she laid lifeless in his arms, he was certain she would not return. He summoned all the magic he possessed laying his hands over her wounds. He willed it to heal, to close the tear, mend flesh and torn muscle, to bring back what had been taken from him.

Tears rolled silently down his cheeks, she did not wake. The skin beneath his palms had knit back together but still she did not rise, eyes remaining closed, chest absent of the breath of life. He wasn't strong enough to bring her back. Laying her carefully on the ground at his feet, he rose slowly. Lifting the case over his head, he settled it carefully next to her body.

Rage coursed through his veins and mind, walking out past his shelter. Bullets again began flying but he didn't bother with the shield this time. As the bullets tore at his limbs, he released his power in a deafening roar. Daggers impaling the guards, twenty times over, not caring that he was taking lives.

When the last of the guards lay dead, he crumpled to his knees. Burying his face in his hands. He yelled. A deep guttural sound, full of anguish. His bloody and torn body, shook violently as he sobbed uncontrollably, letting himself feel the pain. What did it matter now, she was gone anyway.

The calming tune he had heard in the training room less than 24 hours ago, filed his ears and numbed his senses. He lifted his head, eyes closed, absorbing the tune though he knew it could only be in his mind. If this was her ghost he would happily let her haunt him for the rest of his days.

Tiny arms circled his shoulders from behind, bringing the electricity and warmth that had become essential for him to survive. He couldn't breath past the lump forming in his throat. The tune slowly transformed into the healing one and he felt his body begin to mend itself. But the tune did nothing to fix his heart. He inhaled unsteadily, not trusting his mind he slowly opened his eyes. She was smiling sweetly at him, as she continued her hum eyes full of worry.

He grasped her arm and hiccupped on an exhale, his fingers meeting flesh not air. Pulling her quickly but carefully around his body, he wrapped his arms around her tiny frame her. His hands began roaming across her back, up over her shoulders, down her arms, before his brain allowed him to believe the feeling of her mended flesh and warmth beneath his palms. Finally embracing her and pulling her tightly against his chest, he could feel himself began to breathe again. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deep greedy gulps of her ocean scent. “I thought you were dead,” he breathed against her neck.

She held his head, running her hand soothingly over his hair, “I am alright. I was fine.”

His hands shot to her shoulders, jerking her away from him, “You were not fine,” he growled, “You were dead,” his voice broke and cracked around the sentence.

She was still smiling though it turned sad at his words, “I was fine. I promise, I am a lot stronger than you think.”

Her way of speaking cryptically, did nothing but fan the flames of his anger. “YOU WERE DEAD!” He screamed at her, standing abruptly causing her to hit the ground. “I don't know how you aren't dead,” he paced back and forth unable to quiet his mind. Unfortunately, all it kept coughing up was how foolish and vulnerable he must appear right now. He couldn't appear that way to anyone and he scrubbed violently at his face with his hands. Glaring back down at her, he continued his tirade, “You are a mortal, you were gone. How are you alive?”

Iloa stood slowly, a bit unsteady. Loki fought the urge to rush to her side. He wanted answers, he needed answers. It would do him no good to give into the urge to be her protector right now. He would get nothing out of her, if he touched her again. At the moment, they weren't in danger. He had to resist.

She sighed heavily, “I am not a mortal, Loki.”

He scoffed at her, “What else could you be?” He snarled.

Iloa snarled right back, “You know what Loki. I am not going to answer that. You don't listen anyway, why should I spill my entire life story to you? You can't fucking hear me! And even if you could you haven't earned a damn thing!”

She marched past him, grabbing her side as she breathed raggedly. He was right on her tail, seething. Rounding the stack of logs, she grabbed up the case slinging it over her shoulder. She winced at the action but marched on ignoring him completely.

He let her walk in front of him, until she started weaving slightly. They had moved far enough away from the facility now, that he dared calling out to her. “Wait,” he called, trying to catch up to up. But again she just ignored him. He grumbled curses under his breath before attempting again, “Give me the case, before you end up hurt again,” he said curtly. He was concerned she would pass out if she kept this up. He had already been through one death scare. He couldn't survive another one, honestly he wasn't surviving this one.

She glared over her shoulder at him, “No,” she growled and stuck her tongue out at him. Turning back around, she continued to march off, stumbling and wrapping her free arm around her middle.

That had him stopping short, “You impertinent, female! Here I am trying to be a chivalrous gentleman,” he quipped in a self-righteous tone, “And you can't stop yourself from being a foolish child.”

“I have a fucking name, Loki,” she yelled, spinning on her heels and wobbling dangerously. She panted heavily glaring at him, before the case slid off her shoulder to the ground and her knees buckled.

Sliding to her side on his knees, he caught her before she hit the ground. “Iloa,” he breathed, voice cracking and breaking around her name. Foolish and vulnerable. Foolish and vulnerable. His mind berated him and this time all he could think was that that damned voice needed to 'fuck off'.

“I'm fine. I'm just tired,” she was still breathing laboriously, waving a dismissive hand at him weakly.

Loki's heart ended up in his throat. He watched her eyes flutter, could see her pulse in her throat beating erratically. She was still far to pale.

“You are far from fine, Iloa. Please stop saying that,” he stroked her hair gently, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“We have been here too long,” she tried to sit up in his arms, “We have to get to the rendezvous.”

He gently held her down, “We have time, we are close,” he urged. “Please, stop being so stubborn and give yourself a moment.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, “Just one.”

She sighed heavily, tilting her head in a slight nod. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and she fought to keep her eyes open. “Close your eyes,” he begged, “Rest for now.”

She shook her head, “I can rest,” deep inhale, “On the jet.”

“Please,” he begged, he couldn't keep the pain from lacing that one word. A tear escaping his eye, he scrubbed at his cheek before it went any further. He couldn't handle his mind reprimanding him again.

“Fine,” she huffed, he was fairly certain it wasn't just because she was angry with him. “You can,” inhale, “Put me,” inhale, “Down now.” She finally managed to get out. Loki shook his head and stubbornly she continued, “I know,” inhale, “You don't,” inhale, “Want to be,” inhale, “Holding me,” inhale, “Right now.”

There was a soul wrenching sadness in her voice that had Loki confessing, “There is nowhere in the entire cosmos I would rather be.” He managed a small smile but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. There was to much raw emotional pain, that he didn't know how to cope with, for a smile to be genuine right now.

She huffed again, placing her hand on his cheek. She smiled weakly but hers was genuine and trapped his breath in his lungs. She ran a thumb slowly across his cheek bone, he closed his eyes pressing softly into her hand, “Liar,” she teased.

He chuckled, despite the pain in his heart. Somehow knowing that she wasn't calling his words a lie but his smile, “That's my job,” he smoothed her hair again. “Rest,” and she nodded at him, her hand falling from his face, she closed her eyes.

He held her as she slept, her breathing evening out and slowing the panicky beat of his heart. Cradling her, he scanned the area. If he had calculated it correctly, they were only a few miles from the rendezvous. Technically, they weren't completely out of danger either. “I am going to protect you. All I want is for you to be safe,” he whispered, and pressed his lips tentatively to her forehead.

FOOLISH AND VULNERABLE. FOOLISH AND VULNERABLE. His mind prattled relentlessly. “Fuck off!” He growled low in his throat, and the inner chanting ceased, at least for the moment.

He reached for the case throwing the strap over his head and arm, careful not to jostle the sleeping woman in his lap. Once he had it situated, the case hanging behind his back, he turned back to Iloa. Wrapping an arm behind her neck, the other under her knees, he rose carefully to his feet. He would get her there safely. He swore to the Gods no more harm would befall her.

But when they got there, he would walk away. He must. The mistakes he had been counting, were the moments his guard had fallen exposing his feelings for her. And after almost losing her he knew he couldn't want her, need her, have her. He couldn't lose control. She deserved far more than he could ever give.

As they reached the jet, she stirred. Looking up at him, with that sapphire gaze, he reveled in the color, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see them this close. The color had finally returned to her cheeks and though sweaty, bloody, and dirt covered, she looked much better than when she had collapsed.

Natasha and Tony jumped off the jet, sprinting toward them, interrupting his thoughts. “Teen. Teeny, are you ok?” Tony's voice registered controlled panic and Loki had to admire him for it.

“Yea, Dad,” she rolled her eyes playfully, her voice much clearer than before. “Just needed a nap.” Tony took a deep breath and nodded as though he understood the response. Loki thought that maybe he did, even if it only confused him further.

She looked up at Loki again but he couldn't bring his eyes down to her again. “You can put me down now,” she said for the second time that day, “For real this time,” she added.

He did as she instructed, keeping a hand on her back to make sure she could stand on her own. But as soon as her feet were on the ground, Natasha grabbed her up in a back breaking hug. Loki winced right along with her.

Using every bit of his willpower, he turned away from her to Stark. Removing the case from his person he took it in both hands and pushed it forcefully into Tony's awaiting arms. “This is for you,” he said before dropping his hands. “And if you expect me to do these missions again.” He paused, inhaling deeply to stop the tremble that threatened his voice. He knew his next words would be the end, so he added a snarl, “Pair me with someone else. I will not work with her again.”

He didn't let Tony answer, brushing past him and his dumb struck expression. He made his way to the jet and climbed in, surreptitiously glancing back, seeing her standing there clingy to Natasha and Tony. He knew it had worked. Settling himself next to Thor, purposely placing himself as far away from her seat as possible. He chewed on his lips as the three boarded the jet. When it took off heading for the tower, he could feel her crying. His heart was breaking but he would not, could not admit it. This was for the best, she just didn't know it yet. Seemed like he might need a little convincing as well.

#loki #loki x ofc #tom hiddleston loki #angst #slow burn #fan fiction

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imjustthemechanic · 5 years

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Glockenspiel

Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future Part 5/? - Too Late

Peggy did not sleep well that night. Part of it was simply because her head was still swimming with this entire situation – not only were they in the future, they were in a future in which the sort of thing the SSR dealt with had apparently become commonplace. Gods walked the street and people from space destroyed ancient monuments, and it was so ordinary that a stranger could tell you they’d traveled in time and it wouldn’t bother you a bit.

The other reason had to do with sleeping arrangements. Their suite at the Wilton had two beds and a sofa, and Howard had chivalrously announced that he would take the latter. But as Peggy lay there with her eyes shut, trying to nod off, she heard him get u p and go climb into bed with Toulouse, followed by giggling and creaking. Peggy groaned and stuck her head under her pillow so she wouldn’t have to listen to any more. She just knew this was the thing Howard would brag about when they got back. Yes, he’d seen the future, and he’d gotten laid there, too! Tosser.

They got up around five AM, to better the chances of getting back to the Sandhill ahead of Toulouse’s brother. The hotel served them breakfast, and Toulouse talked through a mouthful of waffles – she assured them they were gluten-free, whatever that meant – as she outlined a plan.

“So,” she said, “every Sandhill Hotel built in the last ten years has a special emergency exit. If there are terrorists or aliens or something, people like Daddy and top executives and important guests can sneak out that way without being seen. I know where the Piccadilly one is, so I’ll go in first to check, and if Prince is already there I can keep him distracted while you two go for the ballroom and use the time machine. First, though,” she looked them over critically, “I think you two need to blend in a little better.”

Peggy glanced at Howard. He was dressed in a shirt and suspenders, with his tie hanging loose around his neck. He’d had a jacket, but he’d left it draped over a railing in the Sierra bunker. Peggy herself was dressed in her white blouse and burgundy skirt suit, with a blue silk scarf. By the standards of the 1940s they both looked very ordinary and nobody seemed to have been particularly staring at them last night – although it was entirely possible that Peggy herself had been too busy taking in the changes in London to notice.

Then she looked at Toulouse. She had, as she’d said, hired someone to bring her luggage over from the Sandhill, and today she was wearing a jacket entirely covered with silver sequins, and a pair of red trousers with laces all the way up the outsides of both legs. Her lipstick was silver, as well, and her earrings had enormous red fabric tassels hanging from them. If that were what she called blending in, Peggy wanted no part of it.

“No, we’re not going to be here that long,” she decided. “Sutcliffe said nobody notices we were gone, so we have to return in the same clothes we left in.”

Toulouse was visibly disappointed.

They were finished breakfast by six, and set off for Piccadilly Circus. Peggy expected the streets would already be coming to life, but she was not prepared for how busy they actually were. In 1945, London had been a crowded and dangerous place. In 2015 it was absolute bedlam. Cars, lorries, buses, and people on foot and on motorbikes were cheek-to-jowl on the streets and sidewalks, horns honking and voices shouting. The Uber that dropped them off a block or so from the hotel took twice as long to get there as the one that had taken them in the opposite direction the previous night.

From there, Toulouse led them not towards the Circus, but south, to Jermyn Street. Around the corner there was a pizzeria with a blue awning, next to the entrance to the Jermyn Street Theatre, and in between the two was a glass door that looked like it probably led to upper-storey flats. Nobody gave them a second look as Toulouse unlocked the door and let them in, but Peggy was still grateful for the large delivery lorry parked by the curb, blocking the view from the street. Any HYDRA operatives hiding in the surrounding buildings would be able to guess where they’d gone, but not prove it.

The door did open on a staircase to upper-storey flats – but there was also a flight going down, which the residents probably never thought much about. Toulouse led them down that an unlocked another door at the bottom. This one had a sign on it that said Custodial, but it actually opened on a dark hallway. Toulouse flipped a switch, and the ceiling lights came on.

The tunnel was able to take a more direct route to the hotel basement than the tangle of streets on the surface, and was therefore only a couple of hundred yards long. Their footsteps echoed off the concrete walls, but not so loudly that Peggy couldn’t hear the traffic passing overhead, or the rumble beneath when they came near the tube station. There was a gentle slope down as they approached the door at the far end – and then they realized it was standing ajar.

Toulouse held a hand out to tell Peggy and Howard to stop, and inched forward. “That’s not right,” she said. “Nobody’s supposed to know this is here. You two wait.” She carefully opened the door, and slipped through ahead of them. “Hello!” she called out.

“Ousie?” asked a voice.

“Prince!” Toulouse exclaimed. “Geeze, you’re here early!”

“Dad said you told him there was a conspiracy in here, and the police said there’s a bomb,” the voice that must belong to Prince Sandhill replied. “Of course I came early! You shouldn’t be here. I thought you’d said you were leaving because it was dangerous.”

“There’s no bomb, just cows,” said Toulouse. “I didn’t think the police would take me seriously if I said there were cows.”

“You called the police because of a cow?”

“Cows! Plural! Lots of them!” Toulouse said. “You see that? What do you think left that? People don’t just go around pooping in the hallways!”

“Ousie, Ousie,” Prince said. “What are you doing here? Why are you sneaking in?”

“I came to get my laptop. I was keeping it in the walk-in safe because I was worried the electricians would have a key to the rooms and I didn’t want them stealing my thesis,” she replied. “The police wouldn’t let me in the front.” The sound of her voice was growing fainter as she led Prince away from the tunnel.

“Of course they wouldn’t. You told them there’s a bomb,” said Prince.

Toulouse replied to that, but Peggy couldn’t make out the words. It seemed Prince Sandhill had been successfully distracted.

Peggy opened the door a little further, and found herself looking at a line of wooden and metal coat hangers on a road. They were in the downstairs coat check. She ducked so as not to knock her head, stepped out, and crept across the room. At the front of it was a counter with a wooden grille pulled down over the opening, and next to that was a door, standing open, with a staff only sign on it. She poked her head out of that, and saw three sets of frosted glass doors across the hall, with yellow police tape across them. That had to be the basement ballroom. They were almost there.

“Shit!” Howard said suddenly.

Peggy whirled around, but found him unhurt and inspecting the bottom of his shoe. The exclamation had been literal – as Toulouse had pointed out, there was evidence of the cows lying around, and Howard had just stepped in some of it.

“Next time that happens, stay quiet,” Peggy ordered him. “I thought somebody was pointing a gun at us!”

“You always think somebody’s pointing a gun at us,” Howard replied. He scraped his shoe off on a piece of moulding.

Peggy carefully peeled away the police tape and, moving very slowly so as to make no noise, opened the door. The lights were already on inside, so she could see at once that the room was empty. There was no machine, no people – not even a single cow.

Behind her, Howard leaned to look over her shoulder, and she could hear his sharp intake of breath as he saw the same thing. Peggy stared a moment longer to make absolutely sure she wasn’t seeing things, and then softly closed the door again.

“Let’s get out of here,” she told Howard.

He nodded. Peggy put the tape back in place, and they slipped back into the secret exit tunnel. This time they managed not to step in any cow pies on the way.

“They probably started taking it apart the moment they realized we’d escaped,” Howard said as they made their way back. “They’ve had all night – they’ll have broken it down into parts and gone.”

In retrospect, Peggy had to agree. She and Howard might be stranded in another time, but she was sure Zola had some respect for their abilities after they’d already tracked him down once. If the HYDRA men had made the connection that the hotel owner’s daughter had left at about the same time, they would have every reason to decide to cut and run.

“I wonder if that’s why the passage was already open,” Peggy said. “It could have been Prince, of course, but being as it’s right across from the ballroom like that, it would be the easiest way to get things in and out.”

“So somebody would have to tell them about it,” said Howard.

“Or they discovered it for themselves, but being told is more likely.” Peggy’s suspicions went immediately to Prince, which meant that Toulouse couldn’t be trusted, either. The young woman had been awfully eager to help a pair of complete strangers who were telling an objectively unbelievable story.

Howard was thinking along the same lines. “That means Toulouse…”

“I’m afraid so,” said Peggy. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept with a woman who wanted kill him. It probably wouldn’t be the last, either.

They climbed the stairs at the other end of the tunnel and rounded the corner – and through the glass doors that led out to the street, Peggy saw the delivery lorry pull away. A man in a gray uniform was lowering the back grate.

Peggy froze. Bloody hell – how had she not made the connection?

A half-second later she snapped out of it and threw herself against the outside door, expecting it to open. It did not – there was an internal latch that had to be turned first. Swearing under her breath, Peggy opened it and darted out onto the street. The lorry was still visible, so she ran after it.

The thick morning traffic allowed her to keep it in sight for a block or so, but then it started pulling ahead, and soon got lost among the crowd of other vehicles. Peggy stopped and leaned on her knees, gasping to catch her breath.

Howard came puffing up behind her and stopped with a hand on her back, whether to comfort her or to keep his own balance she couldn’t tell. “Lost them?”

“What does it look like?” Peggy demanded – and then a roar of engines directed her attention up. An airplane was flying over. Like everything else in this future, it was an unusual shape, longer and thinner in both body and wings than the ones she knew, and with no propellers. She had no reference for its size, but it looked low and large, as if it were coming in for a landing.

The airport, Peggy thought. If she were facing west on Jermyn Street, then the Lorry had gone in the right direction for the new London Airport. Although seventy years in the future it, like so many other things, would no longer be new.

“They’re leaving the country,” she realized.

“And we can’t catch up with them,” Howard said. He was right again – they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and the coins in their pockets. Peggy had set her purse down on the steps in the Sierra bunker before climbing onto the platform with Howard. Like his jacket, it could not be retrieved. Even if they could follow the HYDRA men wherever they were going, Peggy and Howard were unarmed, and there were only the two of them.

“Looks like you may have to build the bloody thing from scratch after all,” she said.

Across the street from the secret tunnel was a Starbucks coffee shop. Peggy and Howard went back there and sat at a table by the window, hoping to see Toulouse come out. They still worried she wasn’t trustworthy, but they had nothing else: no money, no identification, no friends or colleagues they could call. Peggy had never felt quite so underequipped before in her life.

Howard, on the other hand, seemed to be taking up the challenge. He’d torn a page out of somebody’s discarded book of number puzzles, pulled a pen out of his pocket, and was now making notes. “Whatever I build is going to have to be compatible with their receiving platform,” he observed. “Since I don’t just have one I can use in 1948. And we’ll have to aim for a time when we know it’s still in the bunker, because we don’t know if it’ll get deactivated or taken apart later. So as soon as possible after we left. To the hundredth of a second, if we can.”

“Sutcliffe said they won’t even notice we’re gone,” Peggy recalled, “so yes, hopefully history will bear him out on that.”

“What I’m wondering is about their power source,” Howard said. “Was it those crystals, or was it the power they were sucking out of the grid? If it’s the grid, what are the crystals for?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Peggy sighed. Though she had to wonder… what had happened to the machine the SSR had found in 1948? They surely wouldn’t have scrapped it, especially if Peggy and Howard had stepped off of it again with a fantastic story to tell.

“Fortunately,” Howard went on, “I already know some of the component parts.

A flash of silver out the window caught Peggy’s eye. She stood up. “There’s Toulouse!” she exclaimed, and started waving. It didn’t take the other woman long to spot her, and a minute later Toulouse had crossed the street and was hurrying into the shop.

“Here you are!” she said, pulling a chair over to join them at their table. “The time machine’s gone! I kept Prince distracted for about half an hour and then he got tired of me and went back downstairs. When I looked in the ballroom you guys were gone, and so was the thing. At first I thought you took it with you, but from what you said I didn’t think it worked that way.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Peggy said. The platform they’d arrived on was definitely different than the one that had transmitted them. “We think they may have taken it to the airport to get it out of the country. However, now that you’re here, I have an idea how we might build our own.” It didn’t matter if they wanted to trust Toulouse or not. They were going to need her help with this, because she had money and they did not.

#fanfic #agent carter #peggy carter #howard stark

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thewayofthetrashcompactor · 6 years

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I am...even later than usual.

Belatedly catching up on @reylomonsters week today, starting with Day 1

This was inspired by @rad-braybury‘s tags on this post. It was too perfect to ignore XD

ALSO ON AO3

Rating: T Words: 3283

“BeeBee!” Rey called out into the night. She squinted across the dark yard and crossed her arms over her chest, shivering. She was used to the close quarters of the city, and no matter how many times she’d visited Poe, Finn, and Rose since they’d moved out here, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of something watching from the trees.

She was on day three of cat-sitting since they’d gone off on their vacation. They’d invited her too, of course, but she’d had more than her share of fourth-wheeling. And a couple days in their house on her own wasn’t a bad deal.

“BeeBee!” she yelled again. “Here, kitty-kitty!” She loved the cat, but getting her in for the night was never easy, and standing on the back porch calling into the woods reminded her of the worst kind of horror films.

She was about to go back in for the bag of treats to see if that would get Poe’s darling pet to listen to her, but something stirred out in the edges of the shadows. She held her breath, and then a round, orange-spotted cat emerged into the light. Rey sighed and pulled open the door.

“Come on, you,” she said, beckoning BeeBee in. As she got closer, Rey heard her muffled meows and frowned. She noticed something dark and twitching hanging out of BeeBee’s mouth just as the cat broke into a run. Rey let go of the back door, letting it fall closed.

“Hey, wait!” She was too late. BeeBee dashed into the house, prize caught in her teeth. Rey watched the door close behind her. She debated for a moment staying outside and letting BeeBee have her fun without her, but she couldn’t reasonably stay out for the rest of the week. With a sigh, she pulled the door open again.

(continued under the cut)

BeeBee waited for her in the middle of the kitchen, sitting proudly on her haunches. When she caught sight of Rey, she bent and carefully placed her prize on the floor, then straightened, clearly expecting to be praised. Wincing, Rey walked in and leaned down to get a better look at the black lump. Her first thought, that BeeBee had caught some kind of rat, was quickly disproven by the wing splayed to one side of it. The other looked to be crumpled beneath the fuzzy black body about the size of her hand.

“Oh,” she sighed. She reached out to touch it, then remembered something about bats carrying diseases and pulled back. She stood, grabbed a dish towel from the sink, and returned.

With the towel, she turned the small animal onto its back, trying to see what the damage was. Small, dark marks dotted its chest where BeeBee’s teeth must have held it, but that looked to be the least of its injuries. Dark red blood matted the fur on the top of its small head and a deep gash, still sluggishly bleeding, cut across the middle of it. When she gently extended it, the folded wing turned out to have a long cut all the way up to the top.

Strangely enough, the injuries didn’t look like they’d come from the cat. She’d gotten on the wrong side of BeeBee before, and the matched sets of lines from her claws were distinctive. This looked more like a cat she’d seen after a group of older children had been tormenting it. Isolated, defined cuts. She sighed again, feeling inexplicably sad for the small animal. It was just a little thing; she’d never have noticed its loss. But watching it struggle in front of her tugged at her heart. Carefully, she wrapped it up in the towel, trying not to jostle it too badly. It squeaked and she winced.

Looking around the kitchen, she found a half-empty fruit carton and emptied the rest of the clementines onto the counter. She lay the swaddled bat inside and washed her hands off in the sink. BeeBee wound around her feet, purring. She glanced into the carton. The small chest still moved, just barely, though she couldn’t say what was normal for it. BeeBee stretched, reaching her paws up onto the cabinets towards the bat.

“No,” Rey told her. BeeBee blinked and tried again, reaching further.

Rey picked the carton up and took it down the hallway to her guest room, BeeBee trotting after her. She set the bat down on the night table, and BeeBee hopped up on the bed to look.

“No,” Rey repeated. She picked up the cat and took her out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Rey kept thinking about the bat as she showered and got ready for bed. Maybe it would have been better if she had left it outside, but all she could think about was something larger coming along to snap it up. At least this way it would be warm and mostly safe. She could find a vet to call in the morning, if it made it that long. Washed and with a towel wrapped around her, she went back to her room, nudging BeeBee out of the way again.

“Not tonight,” she said, much to the cat’s displeasure. She slipped inside, quickly closing the door before BeeBee could push her way through.

She looked in on the bat before lying down. It might have been her imagination, but she thought it had moved a little. She turned off the light, resolving to call someone as soon as she woke up.

It usually took her a while to fall asleep out here, where the darkness fell much more completely and the noises of wildlife outside didn’t match up to the sounds of the city she was used to. Tonight, she drifted off to sleep before she realized it, her dreams taking her in.

She sat in a dark forest, laying against a tree. Darkness had settled here too, and when she opened her eyes, only vague shadows greeted her. No sounds came from the trees; everything sat too still, too silent.

Uneasy, she got to her feet, looking around her. Nothing new revealed itself, but somewhere in the distance, she heard the sound of a footstep. Or was it a wing fluttering? She stepped forward, and whatever she’d heard did the same. Another step, another noise. She started walking, and the other creature kept pace. Never growing closer, too far for her to identify. Her heart pounded, and before she could think better of it, she broke into a run. After a beat, so did the thing behind her.

She pushed herself faster, breath coming in sharp pants. The noises grew louder now, and she heard both the pounding of feet on the ground and the beat of wings through the air with every step. Her side began to ache, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t know what followed her, and every instinct screamed that she couldn’t let herself see. Trees flew past her as she ran, blurry in the night. Her foot landed wrong, snagging on a root, and she crashed to the ground.

Every breath hurt as she lay there, trying to pull herself together. The creature drew closer, louder and louder until it stopped, nearly on top of her. She squeezed her eyes shut, not ready to see it. She felt it watching her, its gaze as tangible as fingers dragging over her skin.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up in bed, breath heaving. Her eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness of the room. No trees or mysterious woods, just thin rays of moonlight falling over the dresser and closet. Her fingers clutched the sheets as she caught her breath.

“Just a dream,” she muttered. Still, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. Trying to force herself to relax, she turned on her side and lay down again. Her gaze passed over the nightstand and she sat up again and screamed.

A man sat on the nightstand, skin as pale as the moonlight with hair like the shadows. He wore dark clothes, torn in several places, and watched her, unblinking. She felt around in the bed for anything she could use as a weapon and came up only with pillows. From the looks of him, he had several inches and quite a few pounds on her if he decided to attack. She’d fought worse odds, but after tonight, she was sleeping with a knife under the pillow.

“Who the fuck are you? How’d you get in here?” she demanded. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the dark room. The man shifted, and the moonlight made his eyes gleam red.

Two knives, and a baseball bat by the headboard.

“You cat dragged me in,” he spat in a deep voice. Sharp white fangs flashed as he spoke.

She blinked. “What?”

“Though technically, you’re the one who brought me in here,” he added, then frowned and looked her over. “If I remember correctly. The scent is the same, but the visual is hard to match between forms.”

She stared at him. There was no way. She glanced down at the nightstand and saw the remains of the carton underneath him. Her gaze travelled slowly back up, taking in the bloody slash across his stomach that matched the one she’d seen on the bat. The gash on the head was the same too.

“Let me see your arm,” she said sharply. His frown bled into a smirk as he extended his right arm, where she’d seen the cut on the bat’s wing. On his upper arm, his coat and the shirt underneath hung away in tatters, soaked in blood. He turned his arm to show where the flesh parted. She couldn’t see much, but she’d bet that the cut went deep. She exhaled shakily.

“How?” she asked.

He cocked his head, still staring at her unnervingly. “How do you think?” he taunted.

She scowled. “I think you should leave now.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, and made to stand. As soon as his weight shifted to his feet, he swayed, nearly falling. On instinct, she jumped from the bed to catch him. She grunted under his heft, arms coming up to support him.

“My apologies,” he said hoarsely. He swayed again, this time towards the bed, and she let him fall. He landed mostly on the mattress, long limbs sprawling. She looked at him, then noticed the uncomfortable wet sensation of her night clothes clinging to her. She glanced down and saw that his blood had soaked through her arm and side where she’d caught him. That much blood loss couldn’t be healthy, even for… whatever he was.

He groaned and turned over on the bed, doing his best to face her. He tried to stand but collapsed again.

“I may require a minute,” he told her.

She raised her eyebrows. “You think?” He grimaced and she sighed. “I’ll see if there’s any gauze or something.”

Rey left the room for the bathroom. BeeBee waited outside the door, green eyes bright in the dark. Rey didn’t bother closing the door behind her and BeeBee slunk in. She figured the full-grown man on her bed wasn’t in danger from the cat. No sounds of fighting followed her at least.

A quick raid of the bathroom turned up a moderately-sized first aid kit, with enough gauze and bandages to take care of any size of scrape, but nothing that would cover the massive wounds cut into her intruder. She carried it back to the guest room anyway. The man still lay on the bed, and BeeBee had set herself in his former spot, the remains of the crate of the nightstand. Man and cat watched each other warily. BeeBee’s tail whipped back and forth, and if the man had still had fur, it would have been on end. Rey stepped between them and set the kit down on the bed.

“Can you get your shirt off?” she asked brusquely.

He struggled a bit, but it quickly became clear that his injured arm was useless. Bracing herself, she helped him to pull the jacket off, keeping her gaze away from his face. With the jacket removed, the wounds became much clearer. Blood soaked his shirt. It stained her fingers as she helped him pull the remains of the shirt up over his head. He collapsed back to the bed, panting, blood spreading across the blanket beneath him. His eyes looked unfocused, like he wasn’t really seeing her.

“Who are you?” he muttered. His gaze shifted from her to the cat.

“Rey,” she said, and his eyes snapped back to her. “And that’s BeeBee. You should probably thank her. You’d be bleeding out in the woods if she hadn’t brought you in.”

He didn’t answer, but his full lips twitched in the hint of a smile. Moonlight shone across his pale chest and it rose and fell shallowly with his breath. Blood pooled on his stomach. His wound looked as if it had started to congeal, and she briefly wondered if he had abilities beyond what she’d seen so far. She shoved the thought aside. It wasn’t the time to try to figure that out; she was confused enough by him already. She held the wet scraps of his shirt and discarded the idea that it could be used to bind the wound at all.

Making a note to apologize to her friends when they got back, she went and retrieved a spare sheet from the closet. She took the small scissors from the first aid kit to try to cut a strip off, ripping it when they failed. She started to lay the end of the strip across his stomach, then remembered the dried blood caking him. With a sigh, she left again and got a large glass of water from the kitchen. He watched her as she returned, eyes only half open.

“Sorry,” she whispered, then splashed the water over his wound. He jerked and cried out briefly, then lay still again. She figured that was as good as it was going to get and retrieved the strip again. “Bend up a little?” she asked when she got to the edge of his stomach. He did his best, arching to give her just enough room to pass the strip under his back and then over again. When she finished, she gave the same treatment to his arm, then cleaned out the gash on his head, which also didn’t look as deep as she remembered.

She looked over her bandaged patient. It wasn’t anything that would get approval from any nurse, but it was better than she’d done on her own for herself before.

His eyes fluttered open, and she felt the full weight of their dark stare once more. His throat worked. “Thank you,” he said eventually. She nodded mutely. His hands went to his sides to push himself up, and she took an involuntary step forward to support him. “I’ll just --” He attempted to stand again, landing on his feet for a brief second. His wide eyes met hers. “Fuck,” he said, and then fell back to the bed.

She moved over him, looking down into his face. His eyes were closed and his breath came in the barest pants. “Hey,” she whispered, then louder. “Hey.”

He didn’t react. She tried poking him with the same result.

Her shoulders slumped. She’d started out the night with an injured bat she didn’t know how to take care of, and now she had an injured man she knew even less about. At least as a bat she could pick him up. She wasn’t going to have the same success for the tall and bulky man. Was he even a man? She rubbed her forehead. She hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep to figure that one out.

Whatever he was, she didn’t want to leave him alone in the house. “Watch him,” she told BeeBee, who kept her vigil on the nightstand, and quickly went back to the kitchen for a knife. With it in hand, she settled herself on the other half of the bed, sitting up against the headboard.

She decided to wait for the man to wake up again. She’d gone for longer without sleep. But it had been a stressful night, and watching him wasn’t exactly the most riveting entertainment. She amused herself for a while imagining what exactly he could be. The word “vampire” kept circling her mind, despite her rational side’s insistence that it was impossible. She kept watching him, but he didn’t stir.

In a fit of curiosity, she leaned over and pulled his upper lip back from his mouth. His front teeth came to sharp points, looking like the best Halloween props she’d ever seen. These didn’t come off though. She pulled her hand back, taking in a shaky breath. Maybe not her imagination.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, knife within easy reach next to her. At some point, her half-formed imaginings faded into dreams, her eyes slipping closed as her head slumped to rest on her shoulders. Her dreams weren’t any different from her reality at first; she felt cold and uncomfortable, tense as she waited for something. As the night passed, they eased. She fell deeper into sleep and a slow warmth overtook the chill, like a warm blanket wrapping around her.

When she woke the next morning, her only companion was BeeBee purring on her chest. She pushed the cat off and was treated to a tail in her face as the affronted animal whirled and left the bed. She stared for a moment at the empty blankets next to her, brain still muddled with sleep, wondering if could all have been a dream. The blood on the top blanket and the smashed carton on the nightstand suggested otherwise. The blinking clock on the stand drew her gaze and she sat bolt upright.

“Shit,” she swore and scrambled off the bed. She threw on her clothes for work and ran out the door before she could think straight.

She spent the entire day in a daze, feeling like she’d never really woken up. Maybe when she went home, the last of the evidence would be gone, torn sheets and bloody blankets disappeared, and it would turn out that she really had dreamt it. And if she hadn’t, what then? If there were vampires out in the world, what did that mean? What was she supposed to do, knowing that?

She somehow managed to get herself back to the house in the evening. Her heart pounded as she approached the door, anticipating and dreading what she’d find inside.

What she wasn’t expecting was a package waiting on the doorstep. She frowned and bent to pick it up.

Dark paper wrapped around a vaguely conical shape, and she pulled it back to reveal several cat toys on sticks. Bemused, she removed the rest of the paper. A red ribbon tied together the toys at the bottom like a strange sort of bouquet, also holding a pouch of cat treats in place, with a note on thick paper taped to it. In flowing calligraphy, it read:

“To BB and Rey,

A token of my appreciation for your assistance. I am grateful.

-Kylo Ren”

Rey grinned and opened the door. BeeBee ran towards her in a blur of orange, telling her loudly how alone she’d been all day. Still smiling, Rey tore open the treats and tipped a couple onto the floor for her. She had the feeling she’d be seeing Kylo Ren again.

“Good kitty,” she crooned, scratching behind her ears. BeeBee purred.

A/N: Rey is setting a bad example here, handling injured wildlife is best left to people who know what they’re doing. IRL, bats have a very minuscule chance of turning out to be handsome vampires, sorry.

#reylo #benrey #rey x kylo ren #kylo x rey #rffa writers #reylo writing den #crylo update #reylo monster week #my monster week #my fic #vampires #bats #long post #reylomonsters

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xoxopandapanda · 6 years

Text

Little Family Ch. 9

Chapters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

FF.net

AO3

Inuyasha barreled through the other side of the well, his speed retained from him run from the village. His first steps in modern time were on the top landing of the staircase out of the well house. Sliding the door opened with caution drilled into him from Kagome, Inuyasha saw Grandpa making his morning rounds on the paths, checking for any litter or unwanted plants. Approaching the elder, Inuyasha stood alongside him as he bent forward to pick up a leaf. Before the young man had joined his family, Grandpa would have been startled by this. But now, he was immune to such surprises. He straightened his spine as best as he could, he looked up calmly at the tall man who towered over him, calmly remarking, “You’ve been gone for a long time, young man. We’ve been worried about you two.” Grandpa looked over Inuyasha’s shoulder. “Where is Kagome?” Inuyasha turned his chest towards the house to indicate he wanted to go inside. “Long story. Where’s Mama?” He asked as Mama Higurashi flew through the front door and ran to him, not bothering to change into outdoor shoes in her excitement to see Inuyasha in the yard.

“Inuyasha, dear! Where have you been? We’ve been so worried!” She scooped him into her arms, or as much of him as she could. It was so similar to how Kagome snuggled Koji that Inuyasha felt a small pang of pain at the fear that Koji would not be able to meet this woman. Inuyasha hugged her back, perhaps a little tighter than normal, but if Mama noticed, she said nothing. Instead, she leaned back to look at his face and further inquired about the absence of her daughter, “Where’s Kagome? Is everything alright?” He locked eyes with her before answering her questions. “Kagome’s okay. But she couldn’t come with me because of our son.”

There was a moment of silence where Inuyasha watched confusion cloud Mama’s eyes before Mama whispered, “I didn’t know you two were expecting. Is everything okay? Are there complications?” Her arms released him so her hands could stroke the sides of his face, “Are Kagome and the baby okay? We have better medicine here, Inuyasha. We can take care of them here.” Inuyasha’s face flushed as he realized the miscommunication that his comment had caused, his ears pinning back in embarrassment. “Ah, Kagome’s not expecting. We found a little boy in need of a family and took him in.” Mama visibly relaxed, comforted that her daughter was not in danger. She released Inuyasha’s face to rest her hands on her hips, before taking a step back and tensing up again. “Well, where is he? I’ve got to meet my new grand baby, Inuyasha.” Grandpa had stepped closer to the pair when he had heard something about a little boy, and announced with a firm smack on the red robed man, “That’s right, boy. Where’s my great-grand child?” Inuyasha looked back and forth between the two of them before clearing his throat, his embarrassment not quite fading away. “We weren’t sure he’d make it through the well.” It was strange and difficult to speak his fears into reality, despite how firmly they had clenched and held on to his soul over.

Mama didn’t hesitate in her response to him. “Oh of course he will.” Mama spoke with such conviction that Inuyasha found comfort from it. “The well knows he’s got a family over here to meet. Besides, he’s yours and Kagome’s baby. There’s no way he won’t be able to pass through.” “They shouldn’t just toss him down it, though. That would be traumatic for any child,” Grandpa lightly chastised Mama, a slight and humored smile tweaking the sides of his mouth. “Kagome or Inuyasha should tie him to their back and climb down slowly so he knows he’s safe and can figure out what’s going on.” Although he knew he shouldn’t be surprised at them immediately problem solving for his son, it still did. He felt even more grateful that he and Koji had found this family to join, a family that would truly accept and love them always.

Mama smiled and tilted her head in a teasing way. “I wasn’t saying drop him down it and hope for the best. Knowing Kagome, she wouldn’t allow him to be handled in such a way.” Mama patted his chest, and said comfortingly to him, “And you too, Inuyasha. I know you wouldn’t allow anyone to do that to your boy either.”

Inuyasha nodded to indicate he was listening. Grandpa was talking about some sort of contraption they could get at the store to tie Koji to them, and Mama was asking if they still had the one from when Souta was little. Inuyasha was thoroughly pleased with the idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it? Why hadn’t he been so sure that Koji would pass through, like Mama had been? Mama suddenly gasped and grabbed his arm. “Oh! What’s his name?” she exclaimed, her eyes bright and excited. “Koji.” Inuyasha breathed out, his perpetual fear of rejection coming to surface as he subconsciously worried that they wouldn’t like the name. “Good strong name. Did you pick it?” Grandpa spoke approvingly, nodding his head up and down, while tucking his arms behind his back to shuffle towards the house. Inuyasha’s ears sat straight up, indicating he was extremely happy with Grandpa’s approval of the name he chose. “I did. I thought it suited him well,” he called after the elder. “That it does,” Mama spoke as she took his arm into hers and lead him into the house. “We need to make a care package for the new mom. She needs some clothes, soap, maybe even some baby food. We’ll have to go into town. What time do you have to be home?” Inuyasha felt dazed at the sudden acceptance from Kagome’s family, even though he knew that it would happen. Having been turned away and hated for so long, he struggled to understand or expect the unconditional love that Kagome’s family extended to him. He felt his heart squeeze a little as he thought of how grateful he was that Koji was going to grow up loved by so many people. He started a little when Mama paused to look at him, a question gleaming in her eyes. Inuyasha pulled his ears back, bashful that he hadn’t been listening. Before he could apologize, she repeated the question. “Oh, lunch time. Koji doesn’t like to be separated from us. He has fit if we aren’t there for very long.” “I can understand that. I’ll just have to make you three a picnic then. How old is he?” Mama took her house slippers off in the genkan, now that they had been outside, slipping on a spare pair of slippers. Inuyasha paused to wipe his feet on the small rug next to the door, before following his mother-in-law to the kitchen barefoot. She took a quick scan of the contents of the refrigerator, creating a list of items, as Inuyasha gave her more details about her new grandson. “Kagome thinks he’s just over a year and half, but it’s hard to tell. He’s real small.” Inuyasha watched Mama process the information. “We’ve started to give him more food than just a rice gruel and broth, and his new favorite food is smoke mackerel. We have to make sure it’s not in a visible spot or he eats it as soon as we aren’t looking.” Inuyasha couldn’t hide the smile in his voice as he told her stories of Koji, who was becoming steadily more of a handful every day. “Just the other day, he caught his first fish in the river with me and was disappointed that it didn’t come pre-smoked.” Mama tore off the page of the notebook that she had written her list on, folding it and placing it in her pocket. “He sounds like a happy boy,” she smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him.” She motioned to him that they were heading into town. Inuyasha continued to tell her all about Koji, his likes and dislikes, when he wants Kagome to hold him and when he wants Inuyasha to comfort him. He followed her out the door, pausing only to grab his hat to cover his ears. Together they walked to the store where Mama picked up ingredients for the picnic for her daughter’s new family, as well as some baby food for her new grandson. They idly walked through stores and Inuyasha carried the basket and all the goods Mama intended to purchase.

Inuyasha was recalling when Koji figured out how to strip himself and run away faster than Kagome could catch him when Mama surprised him by laughing and saying Kagome had done the same as a child.

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that.” Inuyasha paused for a moment as Mama loaded up the shopping basket with instant ramen, not evening pausing to take in what flavors she was packing away for him.

Mama nodded but continued her shopping. “Oh yes, Kagome was a handful as a child. Always getting herself into all sorts trouble. She was just the busiest little girl you could ever imagine. I remember when she was a toddler, she managed to get her shoes and shirt of in a supermarket before I realized what she was doing,” Mama was nonchalant in her retelling of Kagome’s inability to resist her wiles as a child as she put cabbage in the basket on Inuyasha’s arm.

Inuyasha looked at her in awe, wondering what other tales of Kagome’s youth she would be willing to tell him.

“Has little Koji started to wake you up in the morning? Kagome was the queen of early rising as a child; not so much as a teenager, but when she was four, maybe five, she started to get up at the crack of dawn and roam the house. I never was able to quite figure out she did that.” Mama lead him to the checkout.

Inuyasha nodded firmly, placing the basket down in front of the young cashier, before adding more about Koji. “It’s a fairly small hut, so normally I’m able to always hear what’s going on in it. But the last few weeks, he’s figure out how to be quiet enough that I don’t hear him until he’s made it to the food and is scarfing away as much as he physically can.”

The cashier let out a small laugh as she rung up each item. “My little sister has figured out how to undo locks on our cabinets and does the same. I swear my parents are going to have a heart attack with the stunts she pulls. She’s four and doesn’t like to be contained. Sometimes, she will get outside and just wander the neighborhood.”

Mama laughed goodheartedly and Inuyasha asked, worried, “What are they doing to prevent her from getting out?”

The teenage girl shrugged. “Baby proofing the house didn’t work well for her, so I guess my parents are going to have to barricade the house or something. We live in a nice neighborhood, which is good.”

Inuyasha listened intently, furiously thinking of what he could to barricade his home in case Koji decided to go for a late-night walk on him one day like this teenager’s little sister. Mama patted his shoulder gently, while looking at the cashier. “It sounds like your little sister is making a lot of friends in your neighborhood,” as warmly as any mother could.

“Yeah, she sure is. Sometimes when I’m walking, the neighbors ask how she is. They don’t ask about me, just about her. She’s everyone’s favorite little trouble maker. Your total is 1,954 yen please. Do you need a bag?”

Mama pulled her hand from Inuyasha’s shoulder to count out the money for the items and indicated that a bag would be needed. The cashier placed the bag on top of the food in the basket. Having been able to pull out exact change, Mama collected the receipt and took the basket to fill the bag with the groceries. Inuyasha was still lost heavily in thoughts, so Mama spoke to reassure him.

“Oh Inuyasha, I’m sure Koji is just so happy to have a home that he wouldn’t dream of leaving it ever. You shouldn’t worry about him getting out on you. If he goes anywhere, it will be to find you. Now here, take the bag and we’ll go home to make some lunch.” Inuyasha mutely took the bag from her hands and followed her home.

The walk was nearly silent the whole way, only the sounds of traffic and the harsh cawing of crows, but right as they approached the steps, Inuyasha paused and asked Mama, “Do you think he is happy with us? Do you think he wants to stay with us?”

Mama, two steps up, paused before turning around and bent down to embrace her son-in-law. She squeezed him tight before whispering, “I know he does, Inuyasha. I know he wants to be a part of your family.” She stood for several seconds, embracing Inuyasha tightly before he raised his arms to hug her back. They stood for a moment, each one relishing in the other’s presence and fighting off tears that threatened to spill. Mama lifted her back up so that she stood just barely over the young man and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Well,” she spoke, her voice foggy and cracking from emotion, “we’d better get home to make lunch for you and the little one. I’m sure he will want you home soon.”

Inuyasha nodded mutely and rolled his shoulders to release some of the tension that had risen up in his body from earlier. Mama walked carefully up the steps, mindful of where her feet were going and aiming to re-center herself before reaching the house. As if aware of his mother-in-law’s thoughts, Inuyasha followed suit and walked quietly and calmly up the steps to the shrine house after her.

Grandpa had moved from sweeping the walkways to sorting out the shed, an activity he loved to do when Inuyasha was around, and roped his grandson-in-law to help him with the larger items. Inuyasha agreed to help, wanting to have something to take his mind off of his worries, and indicated he would be right back once he had put the groceries in the kitchen for Mama.

Mama smiled brightly, resembling Kagome so much that Inuyasha had to laugh a little, and told him that she would call him once everything was packaged up. She added, as he walked out the door, “Don’t let Grandfather bully you too much! He’s had his eye on moving the old purification fountain for a while now and has been waiting for you.”

Inuyasha barked a short laugh at the thought of being asked to move the large stone purification fountain out of the shed into a different spot on the shrine grounds, but called his thanks for the warning afterwards.

Grandpa was far too eager to see Inuyasha exit the house as he called him over to a storage shed he had not visited before. Although he was suspicious about the task he was being asked to complete, he wandered over regardless.

“What’s in here, old man?” Inuyasha covered his nose with his sleeve to starve of a sneezing fit, although he knew it wouldn’t stop it.

Grandpa was unfazed by the comment and pulled Inuyasha further into the small room that looked like it hadn’t been opened in decades. “Come look, Inuyasha!” Grandpa was far too excited, and Inuyasha narrowed his eyes, wondering just how much trouble he had found himself in. “It’s our old purification fountain. It developed a large crack in it while I was young, so my father had a new one made. But the young people love to see historical items, and since this is a pre-war relic, I’m sure it will bring in many new visitors!”

While Inuyasha didn’t understand the ‘pre-war’ comment, he took that this item must be old, and rare to find. Grandpa shifted some boxes around and revealed a large stone basin with a dragon water spout at the back of it. Inuyasha’s left eyebrow went straight up as he regarded probably the ugliest thing he had seen in a while. The dragon was not the best handiwork in the world, and had the proportions of a drawing from Shippo. Its eyeballs were far too large, teeth sticking which way and that, and the tongue looked significantly more like a worm than anything else. It had feet that would only have looked remotely decent on a dead bird and the tail resembled a smoked fish after Koji got a hold of it.

Grandpa thought people wanted to see this?

But, Mama was right to warn him about the fountain. The thing must have been at least 150 years old, if not significantly older and not in the world’s greatest condition. Grandpa wasn’t kidding about the large crack in it. The basin on one side was near in two pieces, and Inuyasha wasn’t sure how he would move it without aggravating the crack and completely destroying the thing.

Grandpa, seemingly unaware of any issue with moving the fountain, blabbered on, excitedly waiving his hand around as he spoke. “We can put it back where it used to be, which is not too far from the well house. There was an old shrine over there back in my grandfather’s day, but it burned down and was never rebuilt. But imagine how many people would come to learn about it!”

“The well house? You want me to move this thing over to the well house? That’s half-way across the yard!” Inuyasha turned on his heel to peek outside the door to plot a way over to the well house.

Grandpa tucked his head under Inuyasha’s and looked outside the shed as well. “Yes! It was left to the right of the well house before. You can still see the stones it sat on so many years ago!” Grandpa pointed to a spot that wasn’t well defined.

Sighing to himself and resigning his next few hours to trying to prefect the location of the large stone basin with the most grotesque dragon spout, Inuyasha told Grandpa, “Before I pick it up, you have to show me exactly where you want it.”

Grandpa brushed past him and scurried down the way towards the stones, but turns out there were a lot of stones. “Hmmm,” Grandpa walked back and forth across the stones to the left of the well house, but couldn’t seem to recall where the fountain went. Inuyasha watched him, bemused at the situation, but also proud of himself for knowing to make sure Grandpa knew where they went. If not, he would be standing here holding the stone abomination and getting irritated.

Being a father had taught him a thing or two.

“I’m going to have to consult our old maps,” Grandpa conceded defeat for the moment and started to trek back to a different shed house, one Inuyasha was a least partially familiar with.

When Mama peeked her head outside to tell Inuyasha the picnic was ready, she was greeted by the sight of Inuyasha holding up a scroll, with several other scrolls tucked along his feet, so that Grandpa could try to figure out where the stone fountain went. Periodically, Inuyasha would roll up the current scroll and pull out a different one for Grandpa to inspect, but it didn’t appear whatever task they were attempting was being accomplished very well.

Deciding to leave them alone for a little while, Mama stepped back into the house to clean the kitchen. Once the dishes were cleaned and the floor swept, Mama looked at the time and realized it was probably as late as Inuyasha could be with them.

At some point the fountain had made its way out of the shed it had resided in for who knows how long, and was now positioned on a stone slab that looked like it had just been cleaned, most likely by the young man who was now topless and barking at Grandpa who barked right back.

“You said this was the right one. I can’t move this thing too much or it will break, you know,” Inuyasha was pointing a finger at the basin. “The maps said this was the right place.”

“I know, you loud boy, but it doesn’t look right to me. I think it is supposed to go back more,” Grandpa shuffled around the fountain, inspecting all the angles.

Mama called out to them, “It will just have to wait until next time. Inuyasha needs to be heading home to Koji and Kagome.”

Inuyasha looked over at her, his relief at the end of the task apparent. He scooped up his kosode and haori and walked to the house. Grandpa nodded in understanding, but remained in the yard to look at the fountain as if he could will it into telling him where it belonged.

As he walked into the house, Inuyasha mentioned to Mama, “That damn thing is so ugly.”

Mama laughed as she followed him into the kitchen. “Really? I don’t think I have ever seen it.”

“It’s bad. Real bad.” Inuyasha finished putting his tops back on so his arms were free to take the large picnic Mama had prepared. It was more food than the three of them could ever imagine finishing, so Inuyasha figured he could share with Miroku and Sango’s family as well.

Mama mostly likely had intended it to be that way, although she never said.

Double checking that she had packed everything before handing the insulated bag over to Inuyasha, Mama reminded him to bring Koji over and that she had packed the sling she had used for Souta in the picnic for them. Inuyasha nodded in understanding, and gave his thanks to her.

“Try to come back soon. I’m sure Souta will be devastated he missed out on seeing you, so you’ll have to bring the whole family over for dinner.” She patted his chest lovingly, before reaching up to tweak one ear.

Inuyasha nodded again, eternally grateful to have found this family to join, and promised, “We’ll be back soon. Don’t you worry about that.”

Mama walked with him to the well house in a comfortable silence, seeing him down it with a smile and wave. Inuyasha jumped down the well, the large bag in tow, his eagerness to see Kagome and Koji as bright as the blue light that engulfed him.

#Little family #panda writes #inuyasha #inuyasha x kagome #inukag #inukag fanfiction #chapter 9

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