#Just gonna be a sad rectangle forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shyvioletcat · 3 years

Note

For zoom interrupted could we have one where aelin is attending a meeting and Rowan is supposed to take care of Elspeth and well hell ensures

Well, I don’t know where this came from. But it’s here and it’s fluffy, so enjoy.

Zoom Interrupted

~~~~~

It was Rowan’s turn for ‘keeping the toddler out of the study’ today. Aelin had a meeting and they weren’t as accepting of interruptions as his colleagues were. Dorian didn’t mind, neither did Aedion, but a lot of the others had sticks up their asses and didn’t understand kids at all. At least with Dorian as her directing manager, Aelin wasn’t going to cop any flack for it if something happened. He just listened to the complaints, reminded those complaining of the situations they were in, and left it at that.

The only problem was that Elspeth had woken up today feeling like Aelin was the only person that existed in the whole entire world. She wouldn’t have a bar of him. Rowan had tried everything –– snacks, her favourite toys, cuddles, video chatting the grandparents. Nothing worked. The best he could manage was cartoons and being regulated to the opposite of the couch after she had pulled just about every possession she had into the living room and left it there. Even then she was still restless and whiny, every so often she whimpered a little. It was enough to break his heart.

Rowan was checking his phone ignoring the annoyingly high voices on the TV, when there was a loud clatter making him snap his eyes away from the screen. The remote had landed on the floor, the batteries spilling out.

“Elsie,” Rowan said sternly.

It was a mistake. Her green eyes went wide and started to fill with tears. Rowan sighed, he knew what was coming so he slipped off the couch to deal with the remote before it did. He’d just got the batteries in and the back on when Elsie cracked it, crying like her world was ending when all he’d done was say her name in a slightly lower octave than he usually used. Kneeling on the ground Rowan looked over at his daughter, who was now lying down on the couch, her little face heartbreakingly sad.

“I’m sorry, little one,” Rowan said gently. “But you can't throw the remote, it will––”

She didn’t let him finish.

Rowan sighed again, knowing this was a losing fight. “Do you––” more crying, “I can get you a chocolate milk, how about that?”

That caught his daughter’s attention and her crying stopped as she nodded at him. Rowan smiled triumphantly and pushed himself off the floor to go to the kitchen. He got out Elsie’s favourite sippy cup and the milk and the chocolate powder. Spooning in just enough that the milk was convincingly brown, Rowan screwed on the lid and went back to the living room.

“Elsie, here’s your…” Rowan’s voice trailed off when he took in the oddly quiet couch.

Elspeth was gone.

~~~~~

Aelin loved babies. And she loved making babies. It was just the in between bits she wasn’t too fond of. If the vomiting and near constant nausea, along with the fatigue, wasn’t bad enough there was also the fact she was shut in their little house with nowhere to go. Aelin understood why she couldn’t go out, she really did. But being stuck inside with a toddler and her husband with no one else to see face to face was driving her a little stir crazy.

At least today she had something to break up the monotony of the days. She had a meeting for work, meaning that she had to at least look somewhat presentable, giving her something to do and a reason to wash her hair. The hard part had been convincing Elspeth to play with her father for a while. She’d been extra clingy today and Aelin had to literally pry off the little hand that held her shirt in a vice grip. Throughout the meeting she’d heard muffled sounds of tantrums and Rowan’s efforts to placate their daughter, all in all it didn’t sound like it was going great.

And neither was Aelin. She’d zoned out a little while ago while Kaltain droned on about something that wasn’t relevant to Aelin so she put all her attention to keeping her breakfast in her stomach.

Then there was a silence and Aelin hoped that the meeting was over but then her name was being said, and from the tone of it, it wasn’t the first time.

“Aelin,” Dorian said.

She took in a deep breath, not quite exhaling as she said, “Yep.”

“Have you finished that manuscript?”

“Not yet,” Aelin managed to get out, swallowing back the nausea. It usually took Aelin no more than three days to finish a manuscript with her notes for the publishers. But she was more than a week behind on this one. It wasn’t her fault, every time she tried to read she just fell asleep.

“It was meant to be finished last Friday. I don’t think you’ve ever been late before,” Dorian mused.

Aedion snorts from his little rectangle. “Being late is kind of Aelin’s thing at the moment.”

Aelin sends her cousin a scathing look while Dorian looks confused.

“Well that’s it for today,” Dorian said. “Same time next week.”

“Before you go,” Aelin adds quickly before the call ends. “I need a minute with you Dorian.”

“Okay, I’ll just disconnect everyone else.” It took Dorian a minute but then it was just the two of them. “What’s up?”

Just then the door to the study swung open and then a small figure launched itself at Aelin. She gagged on impact, but managed to keep from actually throwing up.

“Elsie!” Dorian cheered. “How’s my favourite little gremlin?”

Aelin saw her daughter give Dorian a look on the screen that looked all too much like Rowan as she clung tighter to Aelin.

“Aw, what’s the matter, petal? Do you want to see the puppies?” Dorian asked.

Elsie nodded at that, wiping her nose on Aelin’s shoulder. Dorian’s dog had had puppies a few weeks ago, Aelin was a little jealous and had cried over the photos more than once. Dorian apparently had one on his lap and he lifted it up so they could see. Aelin’s eyes started to tear up immediately and the fluffy little things. It was enough to get Elsie’s attention and she moved forward, nearly knocking over a drink bottle, making Aelin jump up to catch it before it did some damage.

“Aelin Galathynius-Whitethorn, is that what I think it is?”

Aelin looked at her own screen, at the view Dorian had. The shirt she had worn today hugged her very small baby bump, all the more noticeable from the sideways angle she was standing at. Aelin readjusted Elsie who was currently tucked under her arm, and sat back down. “Yeah so… I’m going to have to put in for leave. I’m pregnant.”

“Again?” Dorian all but blurted.

“Hey,” Aelin pointed a finger at him, feeling irrationally angry. “What do you mean again? It’s only the second one.”

“Sorry,” Dorian said meekly.

“Well, you say it like it’s my fourth or something.” For some reason this conversation was now making her cry. Damned hormones.

“Did you just make my pregnant wife cry?”

Rowan now came into the study, no doubt looking for his escaped charge. He was scowling at Dorian, green eyes staring him down through the camera.

Dorian cleared his throat. “If we weren’t in lockdown I might be afraid for my life right now.”

“Lockdown won’t last forever,” Rowan threatened. “And I never forget.”

“Unless it’s contraceptives,” Dorian muttered.

That set Aelin cackling, her erratic emotions coming full circle, especially when she saw the faint blush on Rowan’s cheeks. Elsie started laughing too, cheered up by being in her mother’s arms and the little puppy.

Dorian sighed. “I hate to lose my best proofreader, again,” he added with a wry smile. “But congratulations. To all of you.”

“Thanks, Dor,” Aelin said, giving Rowan a nudge.

“Thanks,” Rowan said tightly, making Aelin roll her eyes.

“Okay, I’m gonna go before Rowan finds a way to murder me through a screen, we can work out deatils later.” That was all Dorian said before he ended the call.

“You’re the worst,” Aelin said, looking up at her husband.

Rowan sighed, “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“How convenient, me too,” Aelin said. “How about we take a family nap?”

Rowan grinned at her as he helped her up from the chair while Elsie still clung to her. “Sounds perfect.”

~~~~~

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @hellasblessed // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rose // @elriel4life // @miserablesmusings // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @charlizeed // @feysand-loml // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr // @thegreyj // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream // @magnifique1807

204 notes · View notes

metalheadcowboy · 3 years

Text

Steve turned his head from where he was looking out at the quarry, illuminated only by the headlights of Billy’s own midnight blue Camaro, to where his boyfriend slammed something down on the hood of the car.

“What’s that?” he questioned, plucking his cigarette from his lips, smoke pooling out with each word.

Billy just shrugged nonchalantly, but the small smirk on his face gave away his excitement. The brunette just furrowed his brows and reached for the folded, rectangle piece of paper next to his thigh.

Steve just stared at it for a moment before unfolding the crisp letter, taking a second to wonder what the hell he was about to see.

”Dear William, Congratulations!“ he added a sarcastic excited tone which drew a huff of laughter out of the other teen, ”We are pleased to welcome you to…” Steve’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach, “UCLA…”

He had to read it again.

Nope, his eyes were not deceiving him.

“Great, huh?” Billy asked, wide grin seeping onto his face. Sadly, Steve could not reciprocate the happiness.

”UCLA, Bills?” He questioned, eyes soft and sad as he tried not to let his disappointed point show through. He was failing, “Doesn’t that place have, like, a crazy low acceptance rate.“ Or at least that’s what he thought when he encouraged the blonde to apply.

Billy scowled, “You callin’ me dumb, Harrington?” God, Steve hated that nickname.

“Course not! You know I don’t think you’re dumb, at all baby,” Steve quickly cleared up, letting the paper fall out of his hand and back onto the cool, blue metal, “It’s just… it’s far.”

Steve gawked when Billy scoffed and rolled his eyes, “What?” the older boy demanded.

”Far, shmar, what’s it matter, I’ve wanted this for, like, ever, dude!” And now it was Steve’s turn to scoff.

”’Harrington’, ‘dude’?“ he asked accusingly, “The hells gotten into you?”

Billy just laughed but Steve couldn’t find the joke, “Seriously, Billy-“

”You didn’t think this was gonna last forever did you?” The words cut through Steve’s heart like a knife, “You didn’t really think we were gonna spend the rest of our lives here, right?” And it was almost laughable the way Steve was so ready to just firmly say yes.”I mean… I don’t know, may-“

”No,” Billy cut him off, “And if you did you’d have to be just plain out stupid-“

“Shut up!” Steve snapped, “Shut the hell up, Hargrove!” Billy’s eyes widened at Steve’s sudden change.

”Oops, hit a nerve,“ Billy shrugged and laughed to himself like a hyena, it reminded him all too much of Tommy and everyone knows how that ended.

Steve lunged forward, full send tackled Billy onto the harsh gravel with a heavy grunt.

“You’re such a fucking asshole I don’t know what I ever saw in you in the first place!“ he yelled, shaking the blonde boy by the collar of his shirt. Billy just stared up at his boyfriend with wide eyes, not even sure how to react.

”God, I fucking hate you,” Steve’s voice cracked as tears started welling up in his eyes and his bottom lip started quivering, “I hate you and I hate stupid fucking California!”

His grip slowly started loosening on Billy’s shirt as sadness drug him down deeper and deeper, making him weak with it, “Why don’t I hate you?” he croaked, a single tear falling from Steve’s cheek onto Billy’s neck, Billy who was still in complete shock and maybe a bit concerned as to where the joint in Steve‘s hand was tossed.

The younger boy slowly let his hands come up in an attempt to offer a hug and Steve immediately fell right into it, drawing a small ‘uff’ out of Billy.

Billy let one hand slip under the hem of Steve’s shirt, soothing out pale skin, “‘M sorry, Pretty Boy,” he appologized, starting to get a little misty eyed himself, ”But I have to go.”

Steve stayed silent for a moment, loud sniffle breaking the quiet.

”I know.”

#What is this lmao #Harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Stranger Things #Angst

54 notes · View notes

cakesunflower · 4 years

Text

Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 10

A/N: This is it, you guys!!! This is the LAST part of “Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me?”!!! I honestly thought this was gonna be the second to last part, as I had said before, but it’s actually the last one. I MIGHT do an epilogue, though I’m not 100% sure. If I do, it’ll be a short one. Nonetheless, this is the final part of this story, and I can’t thank y’all enough for reading it! I hope you enjoyed reading about Josie and Calum as much as I enjoyed writing for them. I hope you revisit them soon! For the final time (for this fic anyway), happy reading, babies!!

Josie smoothed down the front of her dress, the floral maroon print one she admired as she fixed the slit on the skirt. It was a happy occasion and despite the weight on her chest, Josie was determined to enjoy it. So with her heels strapped and her hand grabbing her purse, she left her bedroom and went downstairs, heels clicking against the stairs as she tried to listen for Luke. Her eyebrows furrowed when she looked out the window in the living room, letting out a breath. His car wasn’t in the driveway. He’d already left.

Which was fine, Josie figured. Calum was picking her up anyway. Josie sighed once again. And so the silence from her brother continued.

When Calum pulled up in front of the house, Josie locked the door behind her and slid into the passenger seat, feeling some relief as Calum leaned over and greeted her with a kiss. His thumb brushed against her chin as he lightly cupped her face, brown eyes light as he said, “You look beautiful.”

Her cheeks warmed as she settled in her seat, eyeing the black suit he was wearing. “So do you,” she responded with a cheeky wink, earning a laugh from Calum as he began driving.

They chatted comfortably as Calum drove them downtown where the party was. It had been a while since Luke found out about everything, but that didn’t overshadow the excitement of Michael proposing to Crystal. He’d been planning it for a while, and her two friends’ happiness was a welcome focus that helped Josie ignore the fallout her own love life had brought. She spent the days listening to her brother’s footsteps around the house if the two of them happened to be home at the same time, and every time Josie would think Luke was about to come to her, to finally talk, she’d be sourly mistaken as he continued to do his own thing.

Luke’s lack of communication bled into his act of sometimes spending the night at Sierra’s place, leaving Josie to either spend the night alone in the house or spend it at Calum’s. Every day of silence from him gave her more of an initiative to find a place of her own. That had been the plan from the start, hadn’t it? Crash with Luke for a while as she searched for an apartment of her own. So she had started looking; asking her coworkers if they knew of any apartments for rent, searching some up whenever she could. There were a few potential prospects, but Josie hated that even just the thought of moving out of the house—Luke’s house—had her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She didn’t want to move out, honestly. At the very least, have the memory of her moving out of Luke’s place be sadder than it already was.

Josie bit her lower lip. When had she started thinking of it as Luke’s place instead of home?

They arrived to the destination about forty-five minutes later, a restaurant right by the beach, and Michael and Crystal had rented out the roof portion for their engagement party. It was beautifully decorated, no doubt Crystal’s doing, with lights strung up above their heads and floral vines wrapped around the railings. The sun was going to set soon, and the air was filled with the salty scent of the sea, the sound of waves crashing against the shore forming a symphony, almost, with the music playing.

There were rectangle tables, seating ten, scattered around purposefully, leaving enough space for a dancefloor, all around with beautiful floral center pieces. A bar was set up, as well as a table filled with dessert foods, including the engagement cake, and a lettered banner spelling out the couple’s names hung behind it. The colors of everything were a pretty combination of white and lilac, and the lights provided for a soft glow throughout the rooftop.

As soon as she stepped onto the roof, Calum’s fingers laced with hers, Josie’s eyes somehow managed to find her brother. Luke stood next to Sierra, chatting with some of Crystal’s friends Josie had met in passing, and Josie’s breath stilled when Luke’s blue eyes met hers. He was on the other side of the roof, but Josie still caught the way his smile froze on his face before faltering a bit, the lightness of his eyes diminishing as he observed her and Calum. And then, just as quickly, he looked away, and Josie’s grip on Calum’s hand tightened along with the fist around her heart.

How long was this going to go on?

Josie looked away just in time to see Calum glance at her, a concerned glaze in his eyes as he briefly followed her gaze to see where Luke stood. Calum squeezed her hand in return and Josie looked up at him, returning his gaze with a smile. It was easy to smile around him. Nodding his head, Calum said, “Come on—let’s go see Mike and Crystal.”

She nodded, allowing Calum to guide her to where their friends were standing. The two of them were glowing, which was the first thing Josie noticed as they approached them. There was such a tangible happiness engulfing the engaged couple, and it only brought the smile to Josie’s face, allowing her to forget whatever weighed heavily on her head and heart.

For the next hour or so, Josie and Calum stayed side by side, chatting with their friends as well as Michael and Crystal’s families. Josie surprised herself by focusing on having a good time rather than letting her gaze wander over to wherever Luke stood, painfully aware of her brother keeping his distance from her. If the others noticed, they didn’t comment on it, knowing full well what had gone down. Still, Josie felt guilty. Their best friend was engaged and Calum and Luke couldn’t rejoice in it without being twenty feet apart or more. Josie would often glance over at Calum, trying to gauge his reaction.

But her boyfriend was more or less an expert in schooling his expressions, not even letting Josie know what he was thinking or feeling with Luke being right there but not speaking to either of them. God, Josie hated this.

At one point, she pulled away from the group she and Calum were chatting with, whispering to him the excuse of needing another drink. His eyes met her, and he let his concern show through. Josie just smiled back, giving his hand a squeeze, not wanting to worry him. She knew Calum always seemed to sense her sadness when it came to the shit that was going on with Luke, and the last thing she wanted was for him to feel guilty because of the strain between her and her brother. Just like he didn’t want her to feel guilty about the strain between him and Luke.

As Josie waited for the bartender to make her a margarita, someone stepped up to her left, and she felt a sigh of relief when Sierra greeted her with a smile. “How’re you doing?” the brunette asked, placing her hand on Josie’s arm.

She let out a sigh, offering a small smile. “I’m good,” Josie answered, despite feeling a sting at the lie. The close-mouthed smile on Sierra’s face told Josie that she didn’t quite believe her. Licking her lips, Josie asked, “How’s Luke?”

Sierra let out a sigh, shifting so she was leaning against the bar with her hip, facing Josie. “Stubborn,” she said quietly, twisting her lips to the side. Her dark eyes met Josie’s blue, expression softening. “He’ll come around, Josie.”

“Will he?” Josie returned, thanking the bartender as the margarita was placed in front of her. She let out a deprecating scoff, not entirely believing Sierra’s words. “It’s been radio silence on his end, Sierra. I’ve given him space and it’s not working. At this point, if I move out, I doubt he’ll notice.”

Sierra frowned as Josie took a sip of her drink, standing up straight. “You’re moving out?” she questioned, giving a confused shake of her head. “Why?”

Josie licked her lips after swallowing the sip. A breeze tickled her skin, making the skirt of her dress dance a bit. The salt in the air mixed well with the salt on the rim of her glass. “I wasn’t going to live with him forever,” she shrugged. “I was always gonna move out. I just—I didn’t think it’d be so soon. But with the way things are going, I think it’d be best if I found a place of my own quickly.”

“So you’re going to give him more distance so he can talk to you?” Sierra asked. “I don’t think that’s how that works, Josie. I mean,” she looked away with a shake of her head, a short laugh escaping her. Josie realized that Sierra looked almost as frustrated as she felt. “Nothing’s gonna get resolved if he doesn’t talk to you. He keeps telling me that he’ll get around to it, but he’s just so fucking stubborn.”

Josie smiled, almost sadly. So Luke knew he had to talk to her—he just didn’t want to. “He is my brother, after all.”

“He’s being dumb,” Sierra sighed. “I wouldn’t ever tell anyone how long they can take to process something or how long they can be angry about it, but he’s your brother. “It’s been, like, two weeks? This isn’t some kind of problem that’s going to go away. You and Calum are together and the sooner you guys clear the air with Luke, the better. I know he doesn’t want to lose his friendship with Calum. It’s just—it’s so frustrating to see you all upset.”

A-freaking-men.

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes later, though, that Luke would finally break his silence.

Josie had just left the bathroom, walking down the wide hall that would ultimately lead her to the door back out onto the roof, only to stop when she saw her brother’s large frame walking towards her. For a moment, Josie assumed he’d walk right past her, but was surprised when Luke stopped in front of her with a frown knitting together his eyebrows.

“Are you moving out?” he demanded, and Josie wondered if she was imagining the hurt that colored his tone.

She blinked up at him, not entirely expecting that. “What?”

“Sierra said you were looking for an apartment—so, what, you’re gonna move out? Just like that?”

Despite the surprise of Luke talking to her, in addition as to why he was speaking to her in the first place, Josie wanted to laugh. “You know I was gonna move out eventually, Luke. Staying at your place was temporary.”

He frowned, pressing his jaw together briefly. His fingers twitched and Josie knew he was itching to run them through his hair, which was slicked back, so he kept himself from doing so. Luke exhaled sharply through his nose before shrugging in question. “So, what? You’re just gonna leave without word?”

That had Josie mirroring his frown, though hers was deeper and more surprised. “I—No, I wasn’t,” she stammered through a startled laugh. “I still have to find a place and I—I would’ve told you.”

He raised his eyebrows, skeptical. The music was a bit muffled, the party outside continuing as the two of them stood alone in the hallway. “Really? You would’ve told me?” Luke scoffed, looking unconvinced. “Thought you picked up a habit of keeping things from me.”

Josie’s lips thinned, heart thudding in her chest as her expression fell. The bitterness in his voice hadn’t gone unnoticed, and even in the dim lighting of the hall, she picked up on the flash of regret that appeared across his face. “We were going to tell you, Luke,” Josie said quietly, carefully. Maybe they could finally talk, finally clear the air. “We just didn’t know how. How can you blame us for that?”

“You’re my sister. He’s my best friend. You two broke my trust. Who else is gonna get blamed?” Luke retorted, sharp words making her flinch. Josie averted her gaze, dropping to her toes just barely peeking through from beneath the hem of her dress, biting the inside of her cheek. Blame, blame, blame. He let out a sigh, eyes closing as he raised his hand and rubbed it down his face. But before he could speak up once more, a new voice cut in through quiet of the hall.

“We’re not gonna keep apologizing for our relationship, Luke.” Josie’s eyes widened slightly, Luke’s broad shoulders stiffening. She looked past Luke as her brother turned around, hearing Calum’s footsteps approach them. Josie kept her gaze on him as she walked past Luke, dark eyes still on him, as he came to stand next to Josie. She felt a sense of comfort with him now next to her, admiring eyes peering up at her boyfriend who stood confidently in front of her brother. “We’re sorry we hurt you, man—we really are. You know it’s the last thing we’d want to do—no matter how pissed you are at us, you know that’s true. But we’re not gonna apologize for our relationship.”

Luke scoffed, rolling his eyes slightly. “Yeah, you’ve made that clear,” he said, tone dry.

Josie clenched her jaw, for the first time feeling anger rather than just guilt over hurting her brother. “What do you want us to do, Luke?” she demanded, surprised at the steadiness of her voice, catching his attention. “Do you want us to break up? Would that make things better? Will you stop being pissed off at us then?”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, Josie,” Luke snapped, his glare returning as sharp blue eyes kept steady with hers. She stared right back, unwavering. “You think I don’t want you two to be happy? That’s not fucking it. I’m just afraid of the possibility of this thing between you two ending badly. I know both of you too well, know how you both deal with relationships. It’s messy on its own—how’s it supposed to work together?”

Josie gaped at him, lips parting as a disbelieving scoff escaped her. Frankly, she was insulted at Luke’s words. Her guilt was melting into irritation, realizing that although Luke was valid in whatever he was feeling, that didn’t give him the right to basically insult her and Calum. “So, what, just because I’ve had shitty relationships and Calum’s barely been in any, we’re automatically, what, not gonna last?”

Calum scoffed, looking just as bothered by Luke’s words as she was. With an affronted scowl and shake of his head, he all but sneered, “That’s a gross generalization, Luke. And an unfair one. You’re worried about an end of a relationship that’s barely even started, and even then, I’m gettin’ the feeling you’re more concerned about where it’s gonna leave you than what it’s gonna do to us.” Josie noticed the hardening of Calum’s voice, and knew that like her, he was growing angrier than upset, too. All of their emotions were heightened at this point, and Josie’s hopes of having a civilized conversation seemed to be slipping away. Unsurprising, since she was contributing to it. “You called us selfish for getting together, but you’re not too far off from it, either.”

Her brother’s eyes flashed, darkening in aggravation and insult, but Josie kept her lips pressed together. She’d be lying if she said she disagreed with Calum’s words, knowing there was some truth in them. Josie saw both sides of this situation perfectly. She knew where she and Calum were coming from, of course; this wasn’t just some fling between them. What they had. . . It was more real than any of Josie’s previous relationships had been. Sure, they hadn’t been together long, but she and Calum have known each other for years. They’re familiar, friends, had a preexisting relationship that only developed further into the intimate one they had now. Her and Calum were new but established, and despite the secrets and sneaking around, they never felt wrong.

That being said, Josie didn’t really fault Luke for his anger. His best friend and sister running around everyone’s backs no doubt hurt—Josie would’ve felt the same way if the tables were turned. And although she couldn’t speak from a genuine perspective, given that she wasn’t in Luke’s shoes, she liked to think she would’ve let go of some of her anger to actually see the relationship in front of her, to give them the benefit of the doubt. Was it too much to ask for Luke to do the same?

Apparently so, given that he was already dreading the end of her and Calum’s relationship.

Josie’s throat tightened, and her anger melted into sadness once more. Looking at Luke, she said, “You’re so busy worrying about the side you’ll have to take if Calum and I broke up that you won’t even think about the possibility of not having to pick any sides at all.” Josie shook her head, releasing a heavy sigh, though it did nothing to lessen the weight on her shoulders. “I know we hurt you, Lu. And we’re sorry about it. But I’m tired of tying my relationship with Calum to constantly being worried about what you’ll think.”

She reached for Calum’s hand, feeling calm when his fingers automatically laced with hers, catching the way Luke’s eyes dropped to their joined hands. His expression softened, ever so slightly, and Josie swallowed the lump in her throat before her lips curled into a small, sad smile. Her voice, though, remained firm. “You’re my brother and I love you, but I don’t need your permission or approval to love someone else.”

Josie barely registered Calum’s grip on her hand tightening, her attention solely on her brother, whose forehead smoothed as understanding seemed to dawn on his features, blinking with parted lips. Her heart wasn’t racing, much to her surprise, as a silence followed her words, disrupted only by the muffled sound of the party going on outside. She and Calum merely watched Luke, waiting for him to say something, wondering if he even would. Her brother merely gazed at her, looking surprised and taken aback, momentarily frozen where he stood.

And then he sighed, looking away briefly as he rolled his lips into his mouth and gave a shake of his head. His jaw clenched under his beard, shoulders dropping slightly. There was a spark of hope in Josie’s chest when she noted the acceptance that seemed to creep across his features. Blue eyes on her and Calum, Luke said, “I’d never want you two to be. . . Not happy.” He paused, huffing as he tried to find the right words to say. Josie and Calum waited patiently. “I can’t apologize for being angry and hurt because I am—I was.”

“We wouldn’t want you to,” Calum told him calmly, truthfully.

Luke looked at him, offering a small nod. “But I can apologize for how I’ve been acting and the shit I’ve said. You two—” He let out a breath and, for the first time in a while, offered them both a smile that had Josie’s breath catching. “You’re some of my best friends.” Josie smiled when she noted the way Luke pointedly looked at Calum when he said that. “I never meant to be an ass and hurt you, just like I know you never meant to hurt me. I’m sorry.”

“Us too,” Calum returned quietly, jaw tight. “We shouldn’t have pushed you and let you process everything at your own pace. We didn’t mean to make things harder.”

“We know you were only worried about us—about all of us,” Josie chimed in sincerely, feeling the weight on her chest slowly lift. With a carefully playful smile, she added, “Just save it for if it ever happens.”

“Which I don’t think it will,” Calum said right after, his tone confident and steady as he shot Josie a grin, one she couldn’t help but return as he gave a squeeze of her hand.

Luke looked at them, letting out a light scoff before smiling wryly. Nevertheless, he agreed, “Yeah, I don’t think so either.” Josie grinned widely this time, blue eyes meeting his, before Luke smirked and pointed at Calum with a warning finger. “But if you break her heart, I’m still going to kick your ass.”

Calum rolled his eyes, but grinned either way. No one mentioned how despite Luke’s broadness and height, he couldn’t really hurt anyone. Though, when it comes to his sister, who knew. Wanting to ease the nonexistent tension, Josie piped up, “What if I break his heart? You gonna kick my ass, too?”

Luke smirked, offering a nonchalant shrug. “No. I’ll just tell Mom.”

Next to her, Calum stifled a snicker while Josie gaped at her brother, who seemed all too proud by his threat. Flatly, Josie said, “That’s fucked up.”

This time, Calum did laugh, Luke joining in, before her brother said, “What’s fucked up is you wanting to move out.” His expression grew serious, eyebrows drawing together as he looked down at her. “You’re not actually going to, are you?”

Josie’s eyebrows raised, mildly surprised. “You want me to stay?”

Luke rolled his eyes, looking almost exasperated. “My home’s your home, idiot. Of course I want you to stay.”

She snorted. “That’s so sweet.” Despite her sarcasm, the relief that flooded through Josie was clear. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford her own place or she was hesitant on living alone—she was just enjoying living with Luke. She hadn’t seen her brother for years, save for the holidays and rare weekends, and living with him was a way to catch up on lost time. Josie definitely owed Sierra dinner and a few drinks for informing Luke of Josie’s—now revoked—decision to move. It served as a catalyst for Luke to finally talk to her. She smiled then, genuinely. “Thanks, Luke.”

He took a step towards her and Josie’s body relaxed as Luke pulled her in for a hug, and she didn’t realize how much she needed this until his towering frame wrapped around her own. She returned the embrace tightly, closing her eyes to revel in the warmth of her brother that had been absent for too long. Now it really did feel like a step forward in the right direction.

When they pulled away, Luke offered them both a smile and jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll see you two out there,” he said with a low chuckle before turning and walking down the hall towards the door leading to the rooftop.

Josie couldn’t stop smiling as she watched her brother’s retreating back, letting out a long breath once Luke was out of sight and turning to face Calum. Her boyfriend looked just as satisfied with that conversation as she felt, her giddiness returning in full swing, the weight on her shoulders gone the second Luke resolved things with them.

“I feel like I can breathe again,” she said with an airy laugh, shaking her head in relief as she rubbed her hands down the sides of her thighs, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles in her dress out in the process.

Calum looked at her, and Josie was confused at the amusement she saw settle on his features, tilting his head at her. When she raised her eyebrows in bewildered questioning, Calum let out a short chuckle with a shake of his head. “You didn’t even realize what you said to Luke just a few minutes ago, did you?”

Josie blinked, looking away at nothing in particular to rattle her brain, wondering what Calum was talking about. To be honest, she’d wanted that conversation with Luke to be over as quickly as possible so they could reach to a point of being alright with each other again, which she had been desperate for. “Uh. . .” She trailed off, lips tilting downwards as she shook her head. “Not really?”

Briefly, she wondered if she should feel bad about not remembering whatever Calum did, eyeing him skeptically and worriedly. But he still looked amused, maybe even a little bit fond, with that boyish smirk tilting his lips as he took a step towards her. Josie kept her gaze locked with his, wondering where this was going. What had she said? “You told Luke,” Calum spoke up with an inhale, body towering over hers, right hand reaching to gently grasp her left. “That you didn’t need his permission to love someone else.”

His words immediately rung a loud, alarming bell in Josie’s head, her eyes widening slightly as her throat dried, remembering exactly what Calum was talking about. Her heart stopped for a moment as the familiar scent of Calum’s cologne tickled her nose, but she was too busy realizing the magnitude of what she had said—and the unbridled truth behind it.

The world around her disappeared and Josie wasn’t sure if she was more frustrated at the fact that she just so nonchalantly all but admitted the extent of her feelings for Calum, or the fact that she didn’t even remember doing so. It had just slipped out in the heat of the moment, and Josie kind of hated that it did as a way of trying to persuade Luke into forgiving them. Her love for Calum, no matter how true it may be, wasn’t meant to be used as some sort of ploy. She hoped to God Calum didn’t think that’s how she meant it.

When she met his gaze once more, her air in her lungs stilled, she still only found amusement and fondness in his eyes, with a warmth glazing over that had Josie letting out a breath. “I meant it.” The words rushed out of her mouth quickly, though no less true. Calum raised his eyebrows subtly and she knew he was only teasing her, but she wasn’t going to stop there. There was no point to. And she didn’t feel nervous, which Josie realized as she let out a breath. There was no anxiety, no worry, and that made it all the more easy to finally tell him, “I love you.”

Not for a second did Josie think it may be too soon to say those three no doubt significant words to Calum—it felt too right for it to be too soon. The two of them. . . They’ve known each other for so long, had been close long before that night in her dorm room, and it wasn’t startling that her fond love for her friend so effortlessly developed into a wanting, accepting love for her boyfriend. Being with Calum was so easy; she didn’t have to be someone else, didn’t have to worry about anything—other than the whole situation with Luke, but even that was now resolved.

Calum made her feel wanted and safe and loved—more so than anyone else ever had. He did so when they were just friends, and even more now. How could she not be in love with him?

She peered up at him, confident and sure and unafraid, her heart fluttering in her chest as Calum’s grin widened with a short laugh. He could probably feel the warmth of her cheeks as both of his hands reached up to cup her face, his touch soft as always, and Josie adored the crinkles that appeared by his brightened eyes. That smile of his—breathtaking as always. If Josie had any doubts, they disappeared as Calum responded, just as earnestly, “I love you, too.”

Electricity coursed through her veins as Calum closed the gap between them, his kiss only emphasizing the sentiment he just proclaimed. Heat exploded across her skin and in her chest as she kissed him back, allowing Calum to back her up until her back was pressed against the wall and his front was wonderfully pressed into hers. The music playing in the distance was muffled, all of Josie’s senses willingly being taken over by Calum. He kissed her deeply, earnestly, like it was the last time he would be able to do so, and her own hands were pressed against his chest, willing herself not to take the material of his shirt into her fist as to not cause any wrinkles.

Calum was smiling against her lips, her heart flipping because she couldn’t help but smile in return, a foolishly giddy laugh bubbling past her throat. She wanted to stay right in that hallway with him, stay this close, but she knew they couldn’t, no matter how badly she yearned to. “We should get back out there,” Josie said breathlessly, tingling lips brushing against his as she spoke.

His hands slid down to her hips, but Calum didn’t pause in pressing more kisses to Josie’s lips. She’d have to reapply her lipstick, but she didn’t care. Not when his lips were so soft and inviting. “No one’ll miss us,” Calum replied, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

She laughed gently, accepting his kisses briefly. “Tonight’s about our friends,” Josie reminded him, knowing that would get Calum to go back outside. Honestly, she’d rather stay right in this position, but she wasn’t going to hide out from Michael and Crystal’s engagement party—no matter how delicious her hiding space was.

“Fine, fine. You win,” Calum grumbled, pulling away after pressing one last kiss. He looked down at her, a boyish smirk on his face. “Gotta fix your lipstick first.”

She scoffed, her gaze going to his own mouth, noting the pinkish-nude tint that rubbed off on his lips. With a teasing laugh, she quipped, “I could say the same to you.”

They walked out a few moments later after fixing themselves up, and Josie noticed with an awe-filled gasp the color of the sky. The sun was setting and the sky was painted in a gorgeous combination of purple, pink, and yellow, reflecting against the ocean that was in front of them. At one point, Josie found herself by the front railing, putting her phone away after taking some much needed pictures with her friends and of the sunset before admiring it.

The time to herself lasted only a few moments, not that she minded, because soon two people were flanking her side and Josie stood straight when she heard Ashton greet, “Hey, kid.”

She grinned, glancing at the black haired man to her right. “You know you just make yourself sound old when you call me that.”

Ashton rolled his eyes while Michael snickered before saying, “Looks like Luke and Cal made up.”

His observation had the three of them turning around, backs against the railing, and Josie easily found the two men in question. They were by the bar, drinking and chatting animatedly, and it was almost comical how relieving the sight was for Josie. The two of them were talking as if nothing had changed, and Josie was grateful for it. “Yeah,” she breathed out with a smile. “Everything’s good now.”

“Thank fuck,” Michael praised with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t take the tension anymore.”

Josie scoffed, shooting the engaged man an unimpressed look. “You couldn’t? I live with Luke.”

Michael gave an acknowledging tilt of his head. “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna be you.”

“But everything’s fine now,” Ashton cut in swiftly in an attempt to appease Josie before she retorted at Michael’s statement. “It was only a matter of time.”

Both Michael and Josie hummed in agreement, and as she watched the party continue on in front of them, a realization dawned on Josie. She’d been so worried about her boyfriend and brother, she hadn’t given much thought to the two other equally important friends that made up the boys’ group. Josie felt a surge of guilt for being selfish, not sparing any consideration to how Michael and Ashton had been dealing with their two friends not on speaking terms. No doubt it was tense and awkward for them, unsure of whose side to be on, how to go about it.

“Hey—I’m sorry if things got weird for you guys, too,” Josie spoke up. Apologies seemed to be going around today, she might as well deliver a sincere one to these two. Michael and Ashton both looked at her, confused. “Luke and Calum fighting couldn’t have been something you could brush off. I’m sorry if you got, like, caught in the crossfire.”

Realizing what she was talking about, Ashton scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. “You got nothing to apologize for, Lil’ H.” Despite herself, Josie rolled her eyes at the nickname. She knew no matter her distaste, Ashton wouldn’t stop calling her that—she could tell by the brief smirk he wore. “We knew those two would figure their shit out eventually.”

“Yeah, and we were right,” Michael shrugged, sipping his drink that Josie was just now realizing he had. “We’re glad, though—especially for your sake. But if there’s one thing Luke and Calum can agree on, it’s how much they love you. So, you know, all’s well that ends well.”

His words had Josie’s cheeks heating, which she found ridiculous. She and Calum had just told each other they loved each other only a few minutes ago, yet hearing it from others—from people who knew the two of them quite well—ignited a fire under her skin far out of her control. Josie couldn’t lie, though. It was wonderfully thrilling.

Her gaze once again found Calum and in that moment, he looked towards her too, their eyes meeting despite the distance and people separating them. He paused in bringing his glass to his mouth, throwing a cheekily charming wink her way, and Josie grinned in response. Especially when Luke, noticing Calum’s gesture, looked over his shoulder and his blue eyes found yours. He, in true older brother fashion, rolled his eyes and pretended to gag, which only had Calum shooting him an unimpressed look in response.

With a shake of her head, unwilling to calm down her excitedly racing heart, Josie shook her head and said to Michael, “Yeah, yeah. Tonight’s not about us—it’s about you and Crystal.”

“Oh, for sure,” Ashton agreed, and suddenly Josie was wary of the teasing glint in his hazel eyes. “But we all know which bridesmaid the best man’s gonna be hooking up with.”

Josie’s cheeks flushed before her eyes widened, looking at Ashton before her gaze flashed to Michael. “Wait—I’m in the wedding party?”

The groom-to-be glared over her head at Ashton, and Josie knew the beans weren’t supposed to be spilled quite yet. They were aware of Calum being Michael’s best man, but Josie hadn’t known about her own involvement in the bridal party. Sure, it wasn’t too shocking, given her history with Michael, but still. It still took her by surprise in the best way. One look at Michael, though, told Josie she was supposed to find out in some other way instead of Ashton just crudely joking about it.

“Thanks a fucking lot, Ash. Crystal was gonna ask them all in her own way.”

“Oh, fuck. Josie, pretend you didn’t hear that.”

Michael threw a hand up. “Like that’s gonna fix it!”

They dissolved into a round of bickering, though Josie wasn’t quite listening. Instead she just stood between them, an amused and happy smile on her face as their voices melted into the music that was playing. A breeze blew by, chilling her skin, but the sight of Calum and Luke still chatting away was warming enough. Michael had a point; if Josie really thought about it, no one had quite made her feel as loved as both Luke and Calum did, in their own ways. They were her favorite men, easily and truly. She would go so far as to say no one had ever loved her like Luke and Calum did, in the ways they did. And she was more than alright with it.

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @astroashtonio @loveroflrh @meetashthere @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @wildflowergrae @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr @everyscarisahealingplace @socorroann @talkfastromance4 @calumftduke @musichoney @treatallwithkindness @partlysunnycal @dead-and-golden @kaeleykaeley @harrys-sun-flower @br-hoe

257 notes · View notes

covirusgame · 4 years

Text

Hi! Need to escape the utter boringness of a minor apocalypse?

Have you consumed countless works of fiction depicting a massive disaster menacing all of humanity? Did you ever think you will ever live inside such a story? Isn’t all of this really weird to you?

Is the world ending? No? Yeah, but is society collapsing? What? Not more than usual? I see... But capitalism is definitely kicking the bucket right? Right? Oh... Well at least we have a virus spreading globally, so we are all isolated in our homes with nothing but our infinite minds and an infinite internet of things to do.

And sure, the pandemic is a sad, horrifying thing that is spreading suffering everywhere. The situation is dire for countless people and the more vulnerable among us are the ones that risk the most. We must all protect us and others, trust in the power of science and community and just get through it.

But we are humans! We adapt, we fight, we find solutions! And we laugh in the face of death, and find the ridiculous in the tragic. We make memes out of indescribable pain. We still listen to music when bombs fall on our cities. We make love in stolen moments during an uprising. And last but not least we make and play games.

So here is a little game I devised so that you, your grandparents and your kids can pass the time in this weird time we are all living in. Maybe in a month it will be entirely useless. Maybe it will take a year or more for a cure and the return to normalcy. In the meantime we can have some fun or at least waste some time together.

The game is called Covirus and is and forever will be free. After all we can all agree that nobody should pay anything for a cure to coronavirus when we will find it, so why should there be money in a single page of rules for a silly time-waster?

It’s also untested and brand new, but you can participate in its development by sending me feedback and suggestions. Please be kind, I never did anything like this and am very awkward with people. Let’s call the current version of the rules “Alpha 0.1″, then if there will be any improvements I will update this blog.

Without further ado, here are the rules:

1. Have fun together and safely! If you have reason to isolate yourself completely you can still play with others through a videocall or similar methods. Kinda like chess wonks exchanging messages with their moves and gloating underwhelmingly when they win.

2. You need:

A piece of paper, preferably of the squared kind. A whiteboard can do if you're willing to draw the playfield squares.

A couple of differently colored pencils, pens or markers. Pencils have an obvious advantage: you can erase mistakes.

A couple of six-sided dice. You can steal them from a monopoly box. Eat the rich! Or you can kinda make some folding and gluing paper or something. Or you can download a dice roller for roleplaying games. Whatever works for you!

A reason to be stuck playing this game instead of going out to eat pizza and hug someone cute. Like a pandemic. Or a family reunion. It's gonna be fine. No, You Are Wrong! ITSNOTONFIRE!!! ... Just play the game will ya?

3. It's a two player game and it's played on a 20 by 40 squares field. Player 1 starts from one of the shorter sides and Player 2 from the other.

4. Each player rolls a die to determine order of play. Whoever gets the highest number gets to start first (and be the virus) and the other player follows (and is the cure). Don't be mean to people that are the virus or have the virus. Just don't be mean generally. Really...

5. You play in turns and you throw the dice. The numbers that come out of the throw determine what you do according to the following list:

Any combination of non identical numbers gives you a shape to put somewhere on you side of the field. Let's say you roll a 4 and a 2? Draw in your color a 4 by 2 squares rectangle. If it is your first move it can go anywhere in the bottom line, if it's not it must be on the bottom line or adjacent to your other shapes. You can only draw on unoccupied squares.

If you roll a double 6 you get to fill an entire line with you color, even if you already filled some of those squares. You can only choose lines that already have some squares with your color and you can’t choose one that has squares with your adversary’s color. If no eligible lines are present you lose the turn!

If you roll a double 1 you fill a single unfilled square anywhere you want!

If you roll any other double number you don't get a rectangle. Multiply the two numbers together to get a number of contiguous squares to fill as you like! Obviously you still can only fill unoccupied squares.

You lose the turn every time you can’t follow the previous rules according to the dice you rolled.

6. You both take turns rolling dice and filling squares until there is no more space on the field and there are no more moves or it is clear that continuing will change nothing. Or you are freed from isolation and can return to your life.

7. The player that manages to fill the most lines completely wins!

8. That's it! Play again!

We’re done for now. Spread the game, don’t spread the virus and let me know your thought about this weird little child of mine I send out into the world.

With love and hope. D.

Disclaimers:

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/it/

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Italy License

That basically means I will not be mean to you if you share my work or make your derivative work from it while acknowledging mine, using the same license and not making any money off of it. Fair? Fair.

I only put this disclaimer here because I'm paranoid about people being jerks and dire situations like the one we are in currently bringing the worst out of humanity.

#coronavirus #covid19 #covid2020 #covirus #game #timewaster #free game

1 note · View note

justakpopfic · 5 years

Text

I am Not-Chapter 10

Stray kids fic

Masterlist

“CB97! Where are we going?” WJ00 asked as we ran down the hallways. The guards ran in the opposite direction, and I couldn’t believe that I fooled them all.

“To our escape ticket,” I said as we reached the back of District 9. The dim lights showed that there were multiple doors. Which one lead to the vehicle?

“What do we do now?” SM71 said. I took in the hallway. The alarm blared, red lights flashed on the walls. That alarm won’t last forever. We need to move.

“We need to find a door that leads downstairs,” I said. I ran up to the first door. Locked. I took the ring of keys from my pocket. Almost an infinite amount hung on the ring.

“Oh…we don’t have time for this,” I mumbled to myself.

“What do you mean? What’s the hold up?” LM55 was beside me, eyes flickering to the keys and the door.

“The key should match the lock,” LM55 said. “Try using a small silver key,”

The rest of the boys watched as I fumbled the keys in my hand until I grabbed a small silver one.

“Let’s hope this works,” I said as I inserted the key.

The key fit perfectly in the lock. I turned it one direction. I heard a soft click. I almost missed it over the alarm still ringing.

I turned the knob. The door opened.

“I worked!” I said. The door led to a dark room. But the red lights in there revealed a staircase.

“This is where we need to go,” I said. I pushed the door open wider. “Let’s go guys,”

The boys all filed into the stairwell. Once the last person was inside, I closed the door. But not before checking that it was locked from the outside. We didn’t need guards chasing us down here.

We dashed down the stairs. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stairs in my life before. It felt like forever until we reached the bottom.

I heard gasps and sucked in breaths once I stepped onto the floor.

“I recognize this…thing,” CB82 said in awe. He turned towards me. “Do you remember…?”

“Yes, I do,” I said, remembering the book that CB82 stole once with its large vehicles. A wave of longing washed over me. I’m not sure what I’m longing for now. The past?

No, I’m leaving my past now.

“This is our ticket out of here,” I said. “We just need to get inside.”

We scanned the entire vehicle. IN42 found a door.

It was a strange door. It had no handle or any way of us opening it.

“How would we get inside?” IN42 asked. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think about how we might not even be able to use this. What am I supposed to tell him?

“There’s only one thing to do,” a voice said. Turns out the voice was HJ19. He and LF20 grabbed the middle splitting the door in half. They grunted and pulled for ages. Reluctantly, the door opened, making a screeching sound that the guards could probably hear.

The guards. They’d have to know that we’re hear.

“Everyone get inside!” I said, as I lead IN42 and SM71 up the steps inside. Soon everyone climbed onto the bus, except for me.

I heard a voice. A harsh voice. My heart sank.

“Stop right where you are!” The voice said. I risked turning my head in the voices direction.

A guard was standing there. With a gun.

I scrambled onto the bus, panicking.

“Close the door!” I shouted. I tried to grab the doors to close it, but they almost shut onto my fingers.

“Sorry,” a new voice hushed. It was HH49. His hand gripped a strange handle. The guard was banging on the door, screaming at us to come out.

“We need to go now,” WJ00 warned.

“I know but…” It dawned on me.

I didn’t know how to make this vehicle move.

My eyes stared at all of the contraptions and buttons lining the front of the bus. They blurred together, making it even harder to make sense of it all.

The boys shouted at me, telling me to do something. But what snapped me back to reality was the bang.

The guard was trying to break the door with his bat. Another bang sounded, cracking the glass.

I heard weeping, it surrounded me. I couldn’t stay still. I couldn’t let these boys down.

I whipped out my keys, only to have them snatched out of my hands.

LM55 sat into the front seat, accessing everything laid out in front of him. I guess he got sick of my waiting and decided to take matters into his own hands.

That’s understandable. I wasn’t being helpful.

The banging continued. The weeping increased. The reality slowly settled onto me that we might die…

And never be free.

I wanted to try and stop the guard from hitting the window, but I was stopped by a roar.

White lights shone in front of the vehicle. The roar lowered to a growling. The vehicle vibrated. The guard froze, holding his bat in mid-air.

“I think it worked!” LM55 said, shocked.

“Well if you could figure that out.” I ran up next to him, desperately wanting to get out of here. “Then make this thing move!”

LM55 glanced downwards. I followed his eyes to see two rectangles that seemed to be elevated above the ground.

The window was nearly broken, and the guard raised his bat to strike it again. My heart stopped beating as I could only watch.

“Go!” Someone screamed. And we did.

LM55 slammed his foot on one of the pedals. The first one didn’t do anything, except lurch us forward uselessly. The second one sent us flying.

I fell backwards, hitting my bruised head against the ground. I heard shouts of concern, but the room was spinning too much for me.

As I got back up. I felt motion. Looking around, the bus was moving. Actually moving.

My heart loosened. But then I saw lights.

The lights flashed, painting the room in red. The alarm slashed at my heart.

It told me: You won’t make it.

My heart reached my toes if it were possible. We had to get out of here. I came too far to die. I can’t die. I can’t let these boys die.

I could never live knowing I killed these boys.

I had no time to ponder why I care about these boys so much, because the giant vehicle swerved. I fell back to the ground, along with some of the other boys on the bus. I could make out the groans over the notorious bell.

LM55 was acting like a maniac, holding a circle object in his hand that somehow controlled the huge chunk of metal. I stood back up, searching the red bathed room.

“Over there!” I said, pointing at a fence-like gate. That must be how this vehicle got inside and outside of the place. That’s where we needed to go.

LM55 sped towards the gate. He wasn’t planning to slow down. What was he planning?

I didn’t find out until the vehicle smashed into the gate. The front windows shattered, causing the boys behind us to hide under the seats.

LM55 and I winced at the cracking sound the windows and gate made. The gate crumbled, making me believe that it was as fragile as glass. LM55 kept bumbling on as if the gate opened up for us.

We rolled up on a small hill. I gripped onto LM55s seat, not wanting to fall again. A faint light poked at my eyes in the distance. It looked like hope to me. My heart swelled with it.

It wasn’t hope.

Instead, it was the front of District 9. And guards swarmed the place. The front field that led to the gates was speckled with black uniforms.

My heart gave up on hope. All we had was luck now.

“What do we do now?” A voice cried out from behind us. I recognized it as WJ00.

“Yeah! What now CB97?” HJ19 said.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know.

The crying and the alarm morphed into a taunting voice that sang about my inevitable failure. The Black Sea of guards, holding their guns out, ready to shoot us on sight. It became blurry as tears flooded my eyes.

“This is it…” I said, my voice choked and barely audible. “This is the end…”

“No it isn’t,” LM55 said, eyes narrowed, focussing only on the gate. He bounded towards the guards fearlessly.

Is going to do what I think he’s doing?

“LM55! You’re gonna crash!” I said.

“Then how do we get that gate to open?” LM55 said, driving at the gate with such speed that caused the guards to fly out of our way. My heart pounded mercilessly in my chest. My mind snapped back into reality. I turned my head through the whole vehicle l, and I saw a stone under a seat.

I picked it up. It was small and jagged in my hand, but just heavy enough.

“Help me open that window!” I pointed to a window at the front. I didn’t want to trust the broken windows. HH49, the closest to me, rushed to a window. We both fiddled with the latches frantically before finally sliding it down.

“Hurry!” LM55 shouted. “I can’t slow down!”

The gate grew bigger each second. The guards seemed to increase in number. However that also meant that the control pad, which was right next to the gate, was getting closer.

I held the rock in my hand, praying to whoever could be listening.

I threw the stone with all of my strength. The rock smashed into pieces against the pad.

For a moment there, I thought it didn’t work.

But then the gate groaned, and opened its mouth to let us through. I heard cheers of relief, and the roar of the engine.

The vehicle flung itself through the gates, taking the nine of us with it. I glanced behind me to see the guards shooting at the machine, but to no avail.

LM55 guided the vehicle far away from District 9.

I collapsed onto a seat, finally able to properly breathe.

The tears came back to my eyes. But I wasn’t sad. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved and…

Happy.

#stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids au #stray kids district 9 #district 9 #kpop #kpop fanfic writer #stray kids writing #kpop writing #kpop fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

neqeyam · 5 years

Text

Forgotten Myth; Chapter two.

Words- 2967

Warnings- height/falling, fighting, arguing, mentions Lee’s death

Summary- When fourteen year old Ruby Moore is chased down the hallway at school by a character out of one of her fever dreams, she gets thrown into a world of tales and myths that society has ruled out to be fake. Befriending a Pegasus that hates everyone, and gathering friends strong enough to be considered a small army, she has to embark on a journey that will change her life forever.

POV- Ruby

Chapter One- https://rqmcuwdwpjo.tumblr.com/post/188285543834/forgotten-myth-chapter-one

Will took me around the camp, Camp Half-Blood according to his shirt. Showing me everything from a strawberry field to the infirmary. He told me stories of our dad, about how Apollo got banished to be a mortal a while ago and since he’s back being a god he now has a new sense of identity. He took me to the archery range, where I impressed him with my archery skills even though I was new. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I took archery lessons from age six to age ten.

By the end of the educational tour, I was exhausted. I felt like I’d just ran a million miles, but he didn’t stop there. He took me to the only building in a rectangle of twenty other oddly specific buildings that literally was glowing gold in the setting sun. Inside there were about ten bunks, all pushed to the outside edges of the building so that there was room in the middle for three cots.

“Please tell me I don’t have to sleep in one of those.” I whined, pointing at one of the cots. Will made a face as if to say: I hope you like back problems. I almost started complaining but he laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder to keep from toppling over.

“Those are medical cots silly. But anyways, welcome to cabin seven; where children of Apollo learn the trades of our father.” I looked around and took in the scene. Books on various topics lined the many bookshelves in between the bunks, medical supplies spilled out of bags while syringes soaked in a yellowish-brown liquid. One thing that stuck out to me the most, was the fact that everywhere I looked, some sort of archery target hung from the walls with very distinct holes in the bulls-eye. Will rummaged around under one of the bunks that looked abandoned and pulled out a box. When he opened it, a faint light filtered out as if they’d trapped it in there.

“This was Lee Fletcher’s bow. If you want it, it’s all yours,” Will said, sadness drifting through his voice. I was tempted to ask what happened to Lee, but something about Will’s posture and aura told me that I’d better just accept the bow.

“It looks perfect, thank you,” he handed me the bow, and I had to admit; it was perfect. The nocking point seemed to be in a direct line to my shoulder, the bow string wasn’t too taut, I felt like this bow had been crafted just for me. As I was holding it, I realized that the bow itself was actually glowing; not blindingly, just enough for me to see a faint halo of light outlining the bow.

Once Will had enough of reminiscing about Lee’s bow, we went back outside. A horn blew in the distance, scaring me so badly I screamed and hid behind Will (Not my best moment I’ll admit).

“That’s the dinner horn, nothing to be afraid of-” he said, a dark figure appeared out of seemingly nowhere cut him off.

“eccoti, ti ho cercato dappertutto,” the dark haired kid said.

“Nico, for the last time, I don’t speak fluent Italian.”

“Ciao, chi sei,” they all turned to me as if I just grew another head. Though the black haired kid looked more grateful than confused.

“Puoi parlare italiano?” the black haired kid -who Will called Nico- asked.

“no, perché dovrei?” I asked. Will’s face flushed red, but he looked rather pissed.

“Would you two stop that! Ruby you’re speaking Italian!” He yelled, taking both of us by surprise. I looked down at my hands as if they’d give me answers; but no avail. I was thinking in another language too, symbols rather than english letters were flying around my head. I realized the same symbols were almost everywhere around camp, telling me where to go. For a moment, I completely forgot english and my whole sense of identity blurred. Will set a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention from my hands.

“pós boró na milíso angliká?” I asked frantically. Nico handed me the book he was reading, thankfully it was in english and the other two languages seemed to go back to their hiding places. My mind went back to thinking in my first language; I handed the book back to Nico and huffed, “Thank you,” he nodded and started up the hill.

Dinner was cool, I could order whatever I wanted and however much I wanted. My plate just seemed to refill itself, the Greeks really knew how to eat. Mr. D (Will told me his real name is Dionysus, the wine dude) stood and banged a knife against his goblet of diet coke. When he had everyone’s attention, he turned to Chiron. (yes, the Chiron from the ancient times.)

“You all know what today is, the first Friday of the month. Which means-” he was cut off by the Ares table pounding their silverware on the table, chanting CTF; whatever that meant. The rest of the cabins joined in their chants till it was just a rumble of voices and an earthquake of silverware pounding. A stocky girl with dirty blonde, almost brown hair stood up and thrust her spear into the air.

“We’re on her team this month. If we win, I get the Apollo chariot back that she stole from us while Michael Yew was our senior counselor.” Will spat, he didn’t sound happy about being on her team.

“Then I guess we have to win.” I stated. I’ve always been competitive, and now I finally know how I’m so good at basketball. Will grinned at me, his eyes alight with an emotion I couldn’t place.

After dinner, and after Chiron was finally able to explain the rules; Will led cabin seven through the hoard of people and into the woods. Everyone seemed to know their place, some went up into trees, scaling them like squirrels. Others turned invisible and the only hint that they were still there was a rustling in the bushes. Will led me to a pile of rocks that looked like a thumb, a blood red flag shone brightly in the setting sun. he scaled a tree next to the pile of rocks, something told me to do the same. I climbed a tree with surprising ease a few yards away from the flag so I’d have a clear view of who was coming through. Two kids that wore the same mischievous grins that Ayla defaulted to walked through the clearing. Behind them, enough teenagers to be considered a small army without the multitude of weapons came walking into the clearing. The girl, who Will told me was Clarrise, barked orders at people.

“You excited?” someone asked behind me. My instincts pulled an arrow out and notched it all while turning around. I was met with a smug smile that I was so used to. Then I checked my pockets.

“More nervous than anything, your dad is Hermes isn’t it.” I asked Ayla. It hadn’t occurred to me that she looked exactly like him -based on a description from a book I found- She nodded and perched in the tree next to me. I looked over to where Will was perched to see him lazily going in and out of being visible. He flickered sometimes, like he got stuck halfway through his change.

“You and I are gonna charge the flag. According to Connor, they’ve got the entirety of Demeter’s children on guard duty, with Hecate’s scattered throughout the woods.” I nodded along with her, we’d need a plan to get through Hecate’s children’s magic. A bunch of grease covered kids walked into the clearing, -probably Hephaestus’s kids- and Ayla let out an audible sigh. I followed her gaze to a semi scrawny kid who would not stop moving -his dark curly hair and tanned skin gave him away as hispanic- talking to an equally dark skinned girl.

Clarrise held a thumbs up to the sky and then a few moments later a horn sounded. Our ranks bolted into the woods, and the Hephaestus kids started waving Wii remotes around really quickly.

Yells and screams erupted from the woods, and a few kids watched everything through a shield looking thing. The first wave of kids were all blonde except for the black haired kid from earlier (Will told me that he’s the son of Poseidon, Perry Jackson, or something like that). Ayla drew her daggers and charged from her spot in the tree. Will and I rained arrows down on whoever got too close to the flag (Although, most of my arrows missed). A water spout rocketed toward me, but I jumped and fired one of the rope arrows into another tree, swinging across the battlefield kicking anyone that got too close. Light beams burned kids slightly when they started their assault on the flag. We were being overrun by kids. Another kid with blond hair came running through the mess and I thought it might be Will, but then I started to feel sleepy.

“It’s Clovis’s magic!” someone yelled. I took a closer look at the blond haired kid and I realized that he was sleeping. Our defenses were dropping like flies, snores started the echo through the woods. They seemed to be protecting him, drawing a crescent moon around him. Next to me Ayla sleepily fluttered down onto the branch and closed her eyes, a good sized rock almost fell out of her hand. I knew what she wanted me to do.

“C’mon Apollo, gimme one luck shot,” I murmured and wound up. The rock left my hand at an upward angle, then arced down; smacking Clovis right in the temple, he fell like a load of bricks. Some of his defenses tried to wake him up but he didn’t. Our defense team woke up one by one, recharged and ready to go they fought harder than before.

My vision blurred and I saw a figure running for our flag, but I couldn’t see her. I sensed her. When my vision returned I saw someone grabbing at our flag, it rose and started down the hill. Almost all of the offensive troops had retreated.

“Team Ares!” I yelled, gathering everyone's attention. “Stop our flag,” they followed my finger and watched as Annabeth emerged from nothing and set down the flag. A wave the size of a small house flung half our troops out of the way, then the dark haired kid (Perry? Percy? One of the two I can’t remember what Will said) started fighting his way through the mess of kids. Ayla grabbed my hand and the next thing I knew we were zooming through the woods at top speed. She smacked into an invisible shield of some sort and crumpled to the ground with a groan. A few snickers from the other side brought my attention to a bunch of Demeter and Hecate children. Clarrise growled a few feet away from me and stabbed at the shield, getting thrown back. Ayla and I exchanged glances, something told me she wanted to go up. So we did.

The shield was definitely not as strong on the top as it was near the bottom. The only problem was that we were suspended fifty feet up in the air by some jello. Ayla pried a hole in the top and I shot four arrows down. Unbeknownst to me, they were all sonic arrows. Each arrow sounded like it was on eight amplifiers and a surround sound speaker. Good news, it was enough to blast out the shield and disoriant their first line of defenses; bad news, Ayla and I were now falling fifty feet to our deaths. Someone caught me, I was met with brown eyes that screamed anger. He set me down and kept running, as Ayla lowered herself down next to me. Together, the three of us ran at the Aphrodite children. I stayed back a little bit and shot anyone out of the trees, while the rest of our offense fought against Aphrodite, Nemesis and what was left of Demeter.

“Ayla! I have a plan!” I yelled, before I even had a P-L-A. She came running and I told her about what I saw Will doing and how he briefly explained it to me. Another kid came with her, however; it was the brown eyed Ares kid that caught me.

“You’re going to need a brute for that,” he grumbled, trying harder than necessary to sound mean. I didn’t have time to argue so I just grabbed their arms and ran, praying to Apollo that this worked.

The fact that no one tried to stop us told me that it worked. We ran and dodged roots that were constantly growing. When we came to a clearing where a stream ran through, I slowed down. In front of us stood their flag, and a multitude of traps. Ayla groaned at the sight of the traps but I told her to just fly over everything. A blond kid that looked to be about my age paced in front of the first trap, folding over a knife in his hand. He grumbled about something, we didn’t stick around long enough to hear what he was saying. Ayla flew us over everything, groaning and complaining everytime one of us moved the wrong way. The brown eyed kid, -who refused to tell me his name- grabbed the flag and bolted for Ayla and I. An alarm sounded in the trees and two more cabins came running into the clearing.

“Great, now what,” brown eyed boy grumbled. I hadn’t thought this far but I had the beginnings of something that would either be super cool, or the biggest failure in the history of camp. I pulled out my last arrow, it was a rope arrow. Thank Apollo, I thought. Without saying a word I shot it at an angle at Ayla; the arrow wrapped itself around her waist, almost pulling her out of the sky. Brown eyed kid seemed to be following my train of thought because he ran towards the closest kids near us and grabbed their shields. He threw one at me and stuffed the other under his foot. I stopped the shield with my foot, and gripped my bow better.

“AYLA, FLY!” I screamed and she took off. The brown eyed kid grabbed onto the rope with his other hand and held the flag under his arm.

We sped through the woods on shields, Ayla was going so fast that almost nothing could touch us. I’m sure we looked like a more badass version of the Three Stooges. She started laughing maniacally over the wind and we jumped a hill. Annabeth and the black haired kid (I’m pretty sure his name is Percy) were running back with our flag, thankfully they hadn’t made it back to their side yet. They ducked under us and gawked. Cheers erupted from the tree line where Ayla’s half brothers and sisters were gathering along with the Hephaestus kids. We were almost across when a wave knocked Ayla out of the sky, she hit the ground like a ton of bricks.

“Connor! Go long!” he yelled and threw the flag like a spear. One of Ayla’s brothers broke off from the crowd and flew to meet the flag, pulling it over the line; the crowd cheered and lifted him up on their shoulders. With Ayla’s momentum and no one to steer, brown eyed kid and I rammed right into a tree. He turned around right before we hit and grabbed me, his back smacked into the tree hard, and my head smacked into his armor. We both crumpled to the ground, groaning. Will was already working on Ayla who had hit her head on a rock. A few of my other siblings ran over to brown eyed kid and I, healing us with no problem. I stood up and stuck out my hand to help him up, he took it gingerly.

“That was quite the plan, Ruby,” he said and took off his helmet. For a moment I was overtaken with confusion but then I realized who he was.

“You- you told Mrs. Johansson that I FAKED A PASS!” I yelled, poking a finger at his chest. Jackson Ryans stuck his hands in the air in surrender, though the grin on his face told me he was just getting started.

“It was all part of the plan.”

“What plan?!” I demanded, only now realizing that he was a solid three inches taller than me.

“To get you here of course, we needed an actual reason to get you here or else you wouldn’t believe us and someone kept telling the monsters off your scent,” he explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. That didn’t help the fact that I got a detention out of it and was benched for two basketball games.

“He’s right, we did need a reason and Jackson volunteered to tattle on you,” Chiron said as he helped Ayla up off the ground. She brushed herself off quickly and thanked Will, who went to work on the others that were lying around groaning.

“I was benched for two games because of him!”

“Yeah, sorry about that one. That definitely wasn’t part of the plan,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his neck, still grinning. I wanted to smack him but Ayla led me away before I could, throwing me into a celebration that resulted in me, Ayla, Connor and Jackson on various peoples shoulders. Ayla and Connor start playing chicken, with two of the stockier Hephaestus kids. Slowly I realized that I was on an Ares kids shoulders, he was taking me toward their chicken game. Ayla punched me in the arm and Connor shoved my shoulder.

“Hey! No tag teaming!” I laughed, shoving them back. Jackson came over and shoved them with me, together we pushed Ayla off the Hephaestus kids shoulders and then went to work on Connor. He gave up and flew off the kids shoulders. Jackson held his arms out for a hug, I was reluctant but it’s kinda hard to dismiss a hug that you’re forced into. Jackson’s brother moved so that he could pull me into him.

“Okay okay, I forgive you… I guess,” I said so he’d let go of me. Did I actually forgive him? Not really; but something told me I’d have to or else this camp would be absolute hell.

#pjo fanfic #oc fanfiction #fanfic #forgotten myth #greek gods #Greek Mythology #ruby moore #ayla weber #jackson ryans #percy jackson #annabeth chase #leo valdez #connor stoll

2 notes · View notes

iwantthedean · 6 years

Text

Show Me Something

Summary: Dean and the reader fight over the realities of their relationship. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 1095 Warnings: Arguing, mentions of Lisa and Ben, some blunt truths from the reader. Challenge: @eurusholmmes Kayla’s Angst Challenge. Prompt is bolded. Challenge: @charliebradbury1104‘s GIF Challenge. Gif is at the top of the fic. Square Filled: @spnangstbingo Free Space.

You pushed into the bunker ahead of Dean, forcefully closing the door behind you in an effort to slam the door in Dean’s face. He caught it just before it smacked him in the nose and closed it behind him. By the time he turned around to talk to you, you were down the steps and into the war room.

“You gonna talk to me about this, or what?” Dean scoffed, standing just at the edge of the room. When you said nothing, he added, “You came here, Y/N. What, you made the trip just to show me your death glare?”

“Ha! If only I could kill you right now, Dean Winchester. I can’t believe you don’t know why I’m mad! For the record, I shouldn’t have had to come to you.”

Dean pulled his bottom lip through his teeth; you could tell his patience was limited. “We can play twenty questions, or you can tell me what the hell is going on. Take your pick.”

With a deep breath, you marched to the kitchen, pull the rectangle piece of cardstock off the fridge, and marched back to where Dean was waiting. You tossed the invitation on the table and crossed your arms over your chest.

Dean picked up the paper, surveyed it, and then looked back at you. His features had gone from tense and frustrated, to tired and guilty. He spoke to you in a much quieter voice.

“I’m sorry I missed it. There was a case …”

“There’s always a case, Dean. Always. I got out of the life not that long ago — which wasn’t easy to do, by the way. It’s really hard to ignore ghosts and demonic possessions and hellhounds when you’re trying to study.” Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you shook your head. “It was my college graduation. Took me a long time to even get to college, but I did it, and I got through it. And I did really well. I know that college doesn’t mean much to you, that you have different priorities, and that’s all well and good. But this — this meant something to me. You being there meant something to me.”

He considered your words, his expression reading somewhere between anger and sadness. You were being hard on him; had you really expected Dean to choose you over saving a life? Maybe you knew better, but just this once, it would have been nice to have been proved wrong.

“I wanted to be there for you, Y/N/N. I did — I do. I always do. And I know that you think we can find a happy medium for us, somewhere between hunting and you doing the apple pie life, but I don’t know.” His hands slid into his pockets. “I let you down. I will always let you down. I’m not enough for you to be satisfied.”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. You’re not going to cop out on this by guilt tripping yourself! I mean, thanks for owning up to the disappointment, but it can’t be like this forever. You want this life with me, I know that you do. We’ve spent hours talking about it — time you wouldn’t have wasted pacifying me with empty words. I know you better than that. Why can’t you just let yourself have this? I’m not asking you to step away from your life. I’m just asking for you to try to be part of mine.”

Dean sighed. “I’ve been there before, and it didn’t work out. I tried stepping away from what I know, being with someone I loved. I damn near ruined two lives in the process. You remember that? You remember telling me that you didn’t know if I was going to come back from that? I mean, thank Chuck that Cas was able to erase their memories of me, because they’re better off. I think you are, too.”

You threw your head back in frustration. “Ben and Lisa? Fuck, I was so right. You’re not going to ever come back from that. You’re going to let what you almost had hold you back from having something real. We always come back here, don’t we?”

“How dare you,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth. “What I had with Lisa wasn’t real? The cooking and the cleaning and the going home to the same woman every night? That wasn’t real?”

“No, Dean, it wasn’t,” you stated, matter-of-factly. “It was a long-term piece of ass while you waited for Sam to come back because deep down, you knew that he would — although maybe even deeper down, there was a part of you that wanted him to stay gone.”

Dean snorted. “I can get ass anywhere, thanks a lot. I loved her!”

“You loved the concept of what you had when you were with Lisa and Ben! They were a human representation of the life you never got to have — the family that was stolen away from you! You had a good life with Lisa, but at that point it could have been anybody who would soothe you through the nightmares and wait patiently in bed for you while you checked all the doors and locks twice and looked over your shoulder at any chance for whatever monster might be tailing you. Lisa loved you, and all your baggage, but I’ll bet you my soul that even she knew it was all for show.”

He took a long stride toward you, but you didn’t flinch. You knew Dean might come toe-to-toe with you, but he would never put hands on you — not out of anger. You’d had his hands on you time and time again, but never out of anger.

He stood there, breathing hard and clenching his jaw while he stared you down, but didn’t say anything. Maybe he couldn’t find the words.

“What’s it going to be, then?” you pushed, voice almost in a whisper. You wondered if he heard you over the anger boiling in every tensed muscle in his being. “You going to push me away like you do everyone else, or are you going to actual give yourself a chance at something good? Something that lets you live your life but still be a part of something that’s just for you.”

You watched his anger cool as he continued to stare you down. The both of you stood like that for some minutes; Dean taking in and processing every word you said, and you holding your breath while you waited for him to speak.

#supernatural #fanfiction #grace2k #spn angst bingo #liz's gif challenge #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #angst #I think?#cliffhanger #spnfanficpond #jellyfish #iwantthedeanupdates #iwantthedean's tag team #all my lovelies #queue needs a new name

190 notes · View notes

fordarkisthesuede · 7 years

Text

JOURNAL 3 BLACKLIGHT EDITION REVEALED! (Part 3)

Oh boy. This is it. The final stretch.

A New Concern: “What if he wins? It is a thought to horrible to imagine, but imagine it I must. If Bill succeeds in opening the gateway between worlds, it will result in an… Odd-pocalypse? Weird-mergency? Unsual-tastrophe? No matter. If the big day arrives, coming up with a catchy nickname for it will be the least of my worries. To prepare for this worst-case scenario, I have begun stocking my old research bunker with supplies, rations, and weapons. I also tried to choose which theoretical physics books would be most fun to spend 50 years rereading, but they’re all so great I couldn’t decide!” [Picture of the Unseen Eye with the caption “Saw this symbol again recently!”]

Hiding Spot? page: “In case of catastrophe.” [The tree leading down the bunker is shown, with a staircase winding around it to the roots, with “danger!” pointing down, ending in a rectangle with “prepare for the end” inside.] “LAST RESORT – hopefully cryonics have sustained. Watch out for Shifty.”

Page left of Security Room: “I need to stop spending time down in this bunker. I was reprogramming my security code when I could have sworn I heard someone speaking to me. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I suppose I was voted “most paranoid” in junior high, bt I thought I had gotten over that phase. Then again, maybe that’s what people wanted me to think: that I wasn’t paranoid anymore so they could start plotting against me, plotting to take my precious thoughts, my MIND-thoughts! Okay, I’ve been inhaling bunker coolant for too long. Going up for some air now.”

Security Room page: [it now says “Security Code” and has the four buttons to open the bunker highlighted and numbered.] “If I forget this, I’ll be taking a trip to the FIRST dimension!” [There’s a picture of an exit door with “don’t forget!” pointing at it.]

Bill’s Teacup page: This one’s unusual. “One of Bill’s friends… Where have I seen him?” The face is so normal that I can’t really say who it could be. Seems masculine? I mean, my best guess is Alex, but who knows for certain…?

[Edit, 4/26/18: I kept forgetting to fix this bit, but this is a reference to the “Have You Ever Dreamed of This Man?” hoax! Thanks to everybody that pointed it out! (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘) ]

The machine pages: “The machine was meant to create knowledge but it is TOO POWERFUL! The device if fully operational could”

My Muse Was A Monster page: All the eyes drawn here glow in the dark. It looks just as creepy as you’d imagine – especially the big one. It also says “Laseep” “ELPH EM” “sit lal vero” and “rutts on eno”. This is just normal English with rearranged letters, so it says “Asleep”* “Please” “HELP ME” “its all over” and “trust no one”.

*in my defense, I was sleepy when I first unscrambled the words, and I peeked at that “Can’t Sleep!” page...guess I knew what was on my mind that night :/

Bill Cipher pages: Spanning both pages: “If he gains physical form then all is lost!” Left page - “If he entered our dimension, what form would he take? Flesh and blood? Metal? Vinyl? Spandex? Would he be a suave, well-dressed, possibly British man in coattails? Absolutely unequivocally not. Bill is a screeching, senseless lunatic. By best guess at his physical form is something like this.” [arrow points to Ford’s idea of Bill, which is like a triangle-shaped meatball with his eye and a strange large mouth]

I love you, Alex. I really do. Getting that nod at the fandom’s general depiction of human!Bill is the greatest feelings that I didn’t know I could have - yes, we had it before, but not so directly and in a published book. It still brings that certain level of satisfaction. I’m continually amused at the jabs at it, and I still to this day love quite a few depictions of him, but more than anything I’m flattered and amazed that fan-artists can get recognition at this level in this day and age. It is truly a time to be alive. I love this book.

Right page: [the figure of the human head’s brain separated into categories reads “ego, deceit, lies, pride”.] “Counterattack strategy: ?????? A triangle is supposed to be the most stable shape in geometry, but there is nothing more unstable than this angular psychopath. The damage he’s done to my thoughts is impossible to calculate….what havoc might he have wrought?” Underneath, Bill writes: “Wanna know what I did last time I was in your mind, Sixer? I deleted the world “burden” from your vocabulary and replaced it with “sea otter”! Good luck next time you try to sound ominous, smart guy!”

You know, I’m surprised that Bill writes properly. You know, proper grammar, capitalization, punctuation… You’d think he’d be the one to write in all-caps, like he talks! I didn’t think about that before now. Weird, isn’t it?

Blank page next to Invisible Ink page: “I have decided to use invisible ink to keep away prying eyes. ANYONE could be watching me!”

Invisible ink page: [the lightbulb has rays of light coming from it as well as a normal eye in the bulb. The ink pot has invisible written on it, with splatters where ink might drip from the pot. There are a series of odd symbols drawn around it as well as a few on top of the page.] “I may provide previous pages with new secrets I have learned since originally writing them, and perhaps reviewing old passages will stabilize my rapidly dwindling sanity…”

No picture, but the page where Ford goes into town has all the townsfolk’s eyes glowing. Even Paul Bunyun’s.

Hiding Places: [doodle of journal 1] Journal 1 – Describes my first 3 years in gravity falls. Focuses on mythical beasts, geographic anomalies, and my 30-hour arm-wrestling match with a very annoying unicorn.” [doodle of journal 2] Journal 2 – The most dangerous journal! Curses, incantations & dark power became an obsession in this volume. Describes the hiding place of the mystic amulet. I buried the amulet once I learned that it corrupts your soul (and whitens your hair)!” Journal 3 – The volume I hold in my hands. Describes my embarrassing defeat at the hands of Bill and the loss of my very sanity. Also contains a pretty good drawing of a plaidypus. Will soon be bestowed upon S and hidden at the ends of the Earth (I hope).”

Hiding places page 2: Underneath the scribbled out drawing is the picture of the momentum conserver Ford made back in the seventies. Underneath it is written “what might have been…”

Trust No One page: “Can’t sleep!” Is written nine times, and trust no one is highlighted and circled.

On the page next to it, it looks exactly like the show, with several spots on the odd wheel scribbled out, the sad face over the center, and “IS THIS RIGHT? I just don’t know anymore!” written beneath it.

The next two blank pages are Bill’s: “GUESS WHO! That’s right, pal, ol’ Six Fingers just conked out, & that means Captain Bill is steering the ship! And by “STEERING THE SHIP,” I mean making Sixer slap himself over and over! HA-HA-HA! That’s right, I just wrote down the sounds of my own laughter!” [next to the next paragraph, there is a drawing of Bill pouring gasoline on a flaming planet Earth, with the strange expression of someone watering flowers and encouraging their growth.] “Now where was he? Ah, yes! Mr. Serious was saying that anyone who was smart enough to decode these messages is smart enough to get on the right side of history! And that meant joining ME, your new best friend and style consultant, Bill Cipher! All it takes is a little handshake! Ever wanted to see inside the dreams of your crush? Or crush the dreams of your enemies? Or jet someone else control your body and take the old bone-mobile for a spin? ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SUMMON ME!”

Page 2: “And it’ s so easy! Just say the words “BILL CIPHER” three times out loud, alone in the dark. Ready? I’ll say it with you! BILL CIPHER! BILL CIPHER! BILL CIPHER! See? That wasn’t so hard! Now there’s a pathway between your mind and mine. I can see everything you can see! Sixer’s about to wake up, but the business between you and me has just begun. Let’s just say I’ll see you down the road. And if you ever get a phone call from a number that says “UNKNOWN,” pick up. Your Guy on the Inside (of Your Mind), BILL”

June 1 page (aka Dipper’s starting page]: “I discovered the Author’s black light secret! I invented some invisible ink and I’m going to try to write a few sneaky – Ugh! I spilled it! Now it’s everywhere! Oh, gross! It’s all over my pants! Ugh, this is embarrassing. I’m going to go wash it off. No black light for me. Yuck! –Dipper” [True to his word, dipper spilled the ink all over the next page, and indeed the page he was writing on. It’s like 2 giant splatter marks.

Mabel’s Smile Dip page has the “Do you like me” letter!!! I’m so tempted to check Absolutely!!! BUT I CANNOT TARNISH SUCH A TREASURE!

Bipper page: Underneath the note Bipper left is the best gift this book has given me – a caticature of Bipper. It even says “Bipper as a cat!” underneath it. All is right in the world at this moment. I couldn’t be happier. If you can, look upon that drawing and feel the joy enter your soul.

Category 11/Dipper’s page on Pacifica: (underneath the photo of Archibald Corduroy) “Roses are red, Pacifica’s blood is blue, I read what you crossed out! I’m on to you! Start combing your hair, Brother! –Mabel” Dipifica fans are now 10x happier they purchased this book – or got to read that poem!

I’m Back page: “I have found my old bottle of invisible ink! It was right where I left it 30 years ago – hidden inside the science fair trophy in my electron carpet room. Unfortunately, most of the ink is gone, and there’s a note on the bottle which reads: “Hey, dude! I tried to drink some of this and it made my tummy glow. Like Shimmery Twinkleheart! Ha ha! I think I’m gonna go lie down forever now. –Soos”

I’m Back adjacent page: “What a waste! Although, I am amazed that “soos” survivied what should have been a lethal dose of ink. He must be one of the most fit and healthy men on Earth! It’s just as well – this ink did little to keep my secrets from Bill Cipher. And I may have permanent retina damage from constantly flipping the lights on and off while trying to read my own messages. NOTE TO SELF: Invent bionic eyes. I’ll use what little ink I have left for some….private thoughts. NEW DIMENSION CHECKLIST:

Read the past 30 years of newspapers. I wonder if whales have finally made it onto land and become the dominatnt species. Also, looking forward to seeing how advanced the lasted fax machines must be!

Catch my breath – literally! I haven’t breathed the proper combination of nitrogen, oxygen, and trace vapors in years. Air is great. Really can’t overemphasize how great air is.

Order red turtleneck sweaters in bulk.

Check out The Eurythmics’ latest chart-topper!

Invent something as a sign of goodwill towards my niece and nephew. What do kids like these days? Bionic arm-lasers? Maybe a pet Cthulhu?

ILJXUH RXW ZKDW D “VLOYHU IRA” LV DQG ZKV HYHUBRQH NHHSV. FDOOLQJ PH RQH.” [Translated with Caesar -3: “Figure out what a “Silver Fox” is and why everyone keeps calling me one.”]

OMG

EVEN MORE PROOF THAT I LOVE THIS DAMN BOOK. THE LAST PAGE WHERE FORD WRITES:

“AN INITIATION: to fully complete your initiation as an honorary Pines, there is one final task - to place your hand on this page, hold it while you charge up the black light and then remove your hand. See what happens? Welcome to the family! Zh’yh ehhq zdlqlqj iru brx – Stanford”

If that didn’t rip your heart out, translated with Caeser -3, the last line reads “We’ve been waiting for you.”

I’m literally tearing up. Thank you to everybody who made this book possible. I’ve never been so happy to pay over a hundred dollars for a book. It was worth every penny. And the weird nightmares I got after receiving it.

[Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3]

#gravity falls #journal 3 #journal 3 blacklight #J3 Blacklight Reveal #spoilers #I LOVE THIS BOOK SO MUCH #SO SO MUCH #stanford pines #bill cipher #mabel pines #dipper pines #pines family #618 #long post #like long long post #i love that Do You Like Me note #but i can't remove it from it's sacred place of honor #I'll have to just open the book every day i want to see it #i like how Bill drew himself setting the world on fire #but he still wants us to summon him #i did have some seriously disturbing dreams the night i got it in the mail #like no kidding #the most violent gory dreams i've ever had #there were 2 goat heads in the oven #but they weren't cooking #they just turned grey and their horns charcoal?#it was strange #i also got a knife thrown at me in that same dream #like it almost hit me #i really felt like i felt it scrape my neck!

1K notes · View notes

terresdebrumestories · 7 years

Text

Chapter 12/24: Out

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Marvel’s MCU SERIES: SEADLA Verse, version 2.0 RATING: Mature WORDCOUNT: 4 626 PAIRING(S): - CHARACTER(S): Tony Stark, Nick Fury, Clint Barton. GENRE: Jail time sucks. TRIGGER WARNING(S): This chapter contains brief and non graphic suicidal thoughts (it’s really small, but it’s there) as well as iffy matters of consent regarding telepathy that aren’t really discussed. (Check the AO3 listing for a glimpse of what’s to come). SUMMARY: In which there is a rescue team.

DEDICATION(S): As always, to the first version’s readers, to the people who leave comments on the fic three years after its last update, and to 2012!me, who needed to write this fic a lot.

SEADLA ON TUMBLR: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11]

Tony stares into the abrupt darkness with his heart hammering against his ribs until a green and gold flame, no bigger than a thumb, whispers to life. The light flickers over Loki’s face, makes his features handsome, childish and fearsome in turn, a thousand faces birthed and killed by a thousand tricks of lights.

It makes Tony’s head swim.

Loki, apparently unbothered, sends the flame hovering a little above his head and lights another one, then another and another, until several dozens of small fires float in the air around them, casting their light over Loki and deepening the pitch blackness around him.

“You look like the Boogeyman,” Tony blurts out through the wild rhythm of his breathing, twisting his fingers into his sheets, just to make sure the bed is still there.

The whole scene looks and feels a little like the Big Bang did, except there’s neither scientific wonder nor any sense of emotional closeness to keep Tony calm, and sweat starts prickling at his brow long before Loki shrugs and deadpans:

“Well I did do a bit of interim for him.”

Tony gapes, unable to tell whether this is supposed to be a joke or not, until his eyes catch on to a slightly-less-dark rectangle in the blackness behind Loki. He twists around a little, careful to keep his movements limited to the approximate area of the bed, until he catches sight of something moving in the rectangle, like black heavy fog trying to hide paler silhouettes. Tony thinks they look like trees, but they’re too pale to be real.

“Where are we?” He asks at last, struggling to tear his attention off the door and onto Loki.

“I suppose you could say we’re technically both in you cell. This is your mind. Well, a possible manifestation of it, at least.”

“A physical manifestation of—wait, I’m dreaming?”

“In technical terms,” Loki corrects with impossibly precise enunciation, “you are being Visited.”

“Oh right,” Tony retorts, switching from surprise to sarcasm almost before he has time to decide on it, “and you couldn’t ‘visit me’ before because…?”

“You didn’t pick up the knife.”

Tony’s face flushes red in less time than it takes to blink. What does the fucking knife even have to do with anything? And what the fuck does Loki mean, Tony didn’t pick it up? He spent literal days cutting into his arm with that stupid fucking thing, and Loki has the gall to blame him for not picking it up?

Worse, still! The bastard looks sad! Hurt, even! Like he’s the one who suffered instead of Tony! Oh, what a fucking joke, what a bastard—a week! A full week, at least, in custody, all but tortured into drinking, not knowing when he’d come out and that’s what—oh, what a fucking moron Tony was.

“Oh, forgive me your highness,” he hisses, trying not to choke on his fury, “I guess I’m not smart enough for princely mind games, after all!”

“That’s not what I said,” Loki replies in a neutral tone, one eyebrow raising with so much elegance Tony wants to punch it open, “I’m simply saying—”

“You’re saying bull, is what you’re doing. I picked your damn knife up! For nothing! I’ve been calling you for help—”

“I’m actually fairly certain you were punishing yourself,” Loki replies, drawing his head back like an offended bird.”

“You told me there was a spell in it—that you’d know if I tried to use it on myself—why d’you think I went back to cutting? The aesthetics?”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I didn’t actually get inside your head about a minute ago. I knew you were cutting, not why.”

“Oh, right, because that makes everything so much better!”

Tony is all but kneeling on the bed by now, body tense and boiling with the urge to start throwing punches. He’s not even picky about where: face, chest, legs, anywhere it’ll take so long as it gets Loki begging for forgiveness and the ugly mess of Tony’s memories out of his brain forever.

Loki doesn’t seem to care, if he even notices at all.

“It doesn’t,” he says with a slight shrug, “you had to call for me. I planted the knife as because I knew you were too stubborn to—”

“What? Too stubborn to die like you planned?”

Technically, there’s no wall to stop him here, no ground to slam into, which is probably the only reason why flying off and landing in an undignified heap doesn’t physically hurt. The gesture still reels him though, pulls his thoughts into a sharp sideway twist.

Fuck, he wishes it’d hurt though. Wishes it’d bleed like a proper wound so he could just stitch it up and be done with it instead of having to watch himself fester down into nothing. It’d be a bitch to go through but it’d be clean. Straightforward.

Simple.

God, he misses simple.

But it doesn’t hurt.

Loki’s face though, that gets something out of Tony, because he looks hurt. He looks like he’s hurt and betrayed, like Tony should commiserate with the poor widdle god of trickery and lies regret at sending a so-called friend flying. Like Tony should be craddling his cheek and say ‘it’s alright, you’re not really an asshole for trying to throw me into concrete, or whatever you thought would stop me mid-flight’.

Fuck that game. Tony’s most definitely not playing it.

“If I’d meant for you to die,” Loki hisses after a long, shivering pause, “All I had to do was leave you here. I could have killed you a dozen times as Lorna. Better still, I could have ignored your letter and let you do the bloody job for me, you pathetic coward!”

The lights around them burn brighter with each word, swelling with Loki’s venom and turning his hair from black to a bright copper, draws lines of runes onto his face. Tony watches the change proceed with sick fascination, blood humming in his veins as Loki’s ordinary black leather shifts into thick winter gear, his chin colors with a thick copper beard where the runes come and go like words on the wind.

It fills something primal in Tony, like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t have access to, and there’s the beginning of a punch building up in his fist when Loki strides up to him, seizes him by the collar and hisses into his face:

“You’re a lucky coward, though, I do not intend to let you die. Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You will know when the time comes.”

Tony does punch then, as hard and fast as he can manage, satisfaction blooming into his chest when he hears Loki’s nose crack and spots blood dripping onto the elegant mustache. Fuck him. Fuck him and his mysticism, his arrogance, his every fucking thing! If he wants to think he’s above everyone, fine! But if he thinks Tony’s gonna lie down and take it in silence, he’s got another fucking thing coming.

His thing with Lorna might have worked wonder, but Tony is sure as hell not about to take another one of his lies, fuck him very much.

“Lorna was a lie, that much is true,” Loki says while he dabs elegant fingers under his nose, “but it wasn’t mine.”

He’s out of the door before Tony can try to punch him again.

{ooo}

Tony wakes up to a major kink in his neck and the taste of a hangover gone stale on his tongue. He lies on the bed like a a stringless puppet, crusty-eyed and sweaty, desperatly trying to ignore the headache forming behind his eyeballs. At the edge of his memory, shouting and pain mix with green flames in the dark, and it’s all he can do to push them back in favor of Loki’s words.

Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You’ll know the moment when it comes.

Of course he had to be a fucking cryptic with that, too. What an asshole.

Tony still hopes, though. He thinks about the not-quite-dream all day long as he lies down, unable not to wish Loki said the truth. Unable not to feel like time has turned into especially thick syrup as he keeps his hands under the pillow, clutching Loki’s open knife just in case.

Somewhere around what’s probably the beginning of the afternoon, Clint comes back with more food. He doesn’t make a show of roughing tony up this time, which is definitely progress, but he does mouth ‘be ready’ when he leaves the tray. If nothing else, it probably means Clint is on Tonys side.

In times like these, it’s a thought worth clinging to.

{ooo}

As far as Tony can tell, it’s about four when the guards start screaming. Muffled shouts and the slap of flesh on flesh fill the air for a hot second, and then there’s a pregnant silence and the hiss of Tony’s cell door sliding open. Tony, who at this point is little more than a random collection of ill-kept hair and bloodshot eyes in hospital pajamas, watches a skinny silhouette in red and blue spandex stride into the room with confident step, pause into a full-bodied show of surprise, and exclaims:

“Dude, you look like crap!”

The boy sounds something like seventeen, maybe eighteen. Barely college age, at any rate. It doesn’t stop Tony from saying he’s been worse.

It’s both true and false. Afghanistan hurt more, physically speaking. He doesn’t remember feeling that empty while he was there, though, too busy trying to figure out how to get Yinsen and himself out to feel sorry about his life.

He wouldn’t go back there just to stop being depressed though, thank you very much.

“How did you know where to find me?” He asks, following the kid out into empty corridors with Loki’s swiss knife in hand, “Clint managed to get blueprint out?”

“Yeah, and then a little spider talked to me in a dream.”

A pause, and then:

“I mean, it was really more like the biggest tarantula the world has ever seen, but it’s not as funny an image.”

Tony’s too busy trying to walk in a straight line to care much, either way, but whatever rocks the kid’s world, really. How or why on Earth Anansi got involved, he has no idea. Same goes for Spiderman, actually, but neither of these questions feel pressing enough to distract him from the very real, very urgent need to get away from this place.

So he runs.

They reach a doorway that probably leads outside about fifteen minutes into Tony’s escape, four S.H.I.E.L.D agents standing in their way with old Nazi weapons at the ready, and Tony’s heart sinks.

No way he’ll get past them.

“Okay,” Spiderman says, twisting his head until the bones in his neck crack, “no offense but I think we’ll be better off if I handle that one on my own. You’re in no shape to fight, pop.”

Tony would quip back and say the kid is being a little generous about his suit-less abilities, but he doesn’t have the time. He’s barely started opening his mouth, and one guard is down already, dragged to the ground with a clever use of silky—and sticky—rope. Spiderman runs toward the next one, yells ‘crotch!’ and hit the man with exactly that part of his anatomy, catching one of the two women in the jaw with his foot as he twists the male guard around.

The second woman manages to get a grip on him and twist his arm behind his back, but before Tony gets to helping him, he’s jumped and twisted in such a way that he broke the woman’s nose with his knee and wriggled free of her headlock.

“Phew,” he says, voice rough from the chokehold, “thank heaven for super flexibility, right?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer before someone grabs his arm and forces him to start running. He barely realizes it’s Clint in time to avoid punching at him—and then it stops to matter, because he’s finally outside.

He was never a very outdoorsy person before but hell, he’s ready to get into full time camping right now, relishing the wind on his face more than he could have thought possible, so happy to be let out of that damned cave of a jail cell that he barely manages to hold himself upright.

“Stark!” Clint yells in his ear with the tone of someone who’s been trying to get his attention for a bit, “they’re trying to torture Banner into hulking, we gotta move out fast!”

“He’s not gonna do it!” Tony protests even as he picks up his pace to keep up with Clint, “Bruce—”

“I’m not wondering if he wants to hold it in,” Clint replies, guiding Tony away from where a gaggle of agents are fighting a man on a horse car, “I’m wondering if he’ll be able to! He’s never had to resist torture before, we don’t know how it’ll affect him!”

Tony, still half-drunk from sudden freedom, wishes he could protest. Bruce saved his life multiple times already—sometimes as Hulk, even!—but Clint as a point. This is brand new territory, and they’re probably better off getting to safety before they start pondering the nature of Bruce’s doppelganger and how it’s gonna react to pain.

Around them, the air screams with explosions and too many voices, multiple fights breaking on the ground and across the sky as Tony lets Clint and Spiderman drag him out into what may or may not be the desert of New Mexico. He thinks he makes out a voice that sounds like thunder in the chaos but, really, there’s no way to be entirely sure.

“We gotta come back for Bruce,” he manages between two steps, dodging Clint’s elbow when he shoots at an agent.

“We gotta get you to safety,” Clint says, eyes roaming the landscape around them for something, “if Banner’s smart he’ll let the other guy come out and get him out of Fury’s hands.”

“But he’s—”

“I don’t see out back up!” Spiderman yells, “Where’s she?”

“Hell if I know! You seen a cat recently?”

Tony stumbles on the uneven ground, legs of cotton and shot vision combining to mess up with his balance, but he’s still got enough brain to despair at Clint’s words. A cat? they’re hanging their survival on a damn cat? God, they’re so lost—he’s just gonna die here and get this kid who asked for nothing down with him and then—

“Oh fuck!”

Tony twists on himself to follow Clint’s line of sight, trusting the guy to take them through a manageable path...and immediately regrets his decision.

Behind them, mounted onto some kind of vaguely horse-like mechanical monstrosity, the scarred man who visited Tony is flinging people out of his way like they’re annoying flies and not full grown adults. He’s yelling something Tony doesn’t understand but, more importantly, he’s catching up to them. Fast.

“Damn it all!” Clint shouts, “Bastet! Where the fuck are you!”

There’s a flash of grayish-pink flesh by Tony’s feet, a shape running toward the artificial horse as the scarred man prepares to shoot, and then he’s flung to the ground under the weight of a hairless lion with a snarl of hatred that shakes the air around Tony.

“The portal’s behind the rock,” the lion—lioness, judging by the voice—yells over the scarred man’s struggling body, “go!”

Tony is scrambling to turn around before Spiderman even manages to grab him—there’s a sharp pain in his guts as he runs, the exhaustion finally settling in, but he doesn’t let it stop him and keep going, passing a giant boulder at breakneck speed.

He doesn’t notice the hole until he’s already falling.

{ooo}

“Finally,” a deep, cheerful voice exclaims when Tony climbs back to consciousness, “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up!”

Trying to ignore the voice, Tony keeps his eyes closed and tries to list his injuries—there should be some, considering the day he’s had...whenever he got knocked out.

He doesn’t find anything.

Nothing hurts.

There’s no fire in his veins, no throbbing in his head, no itching and pulling around the reactor, no dull ache where he thought he’d pulled a muscle running, nothing at all.

He’s not sure what it says about him that the absence of pain is what makes him open his eyes and panic.

“Alright, alright, try to calm down,” the voice says when Tony bolts upright, “it took a while to patch you up, and probably even longer to negotiate your return with Hades, let’s not go and ruin all that good work.”

Tony turns, and stares at the woman he finds there. She’s about as tall as Thor, though her shoulders and hips are slightly narrower. Long, bleached-blond hair tumbles into a thick braid over her right shoulder, and when she walks closer to examine Tony it’s easy to spot the freckles on her golden cheeks.

“What the hell?” Tony exclaims when she inspects his wrists and there’s no trace of scarring there, “Where the fuck am I?”

“The exact answer is a little complicated,” the woman says with an apologetic smile, “so for the sake of simplicity we’ll just say it’s my infirmary, for now.”

“Right. And how long have I been in ‘your infirmary’?” Tony asks with his heart in his throat.

“A little under three days. You were awake for some of it, actually, but you kept trying to tear your glowing gadget out and re-open your wrists, so I sedated you. You should be able to get out tomorrow, depending on your state of mind...i the meantime, you can visit Anansi in the next room but going further would be a bad idea.”

Tony blinks, and takes his first proper look around the room.

White stone walls, too smooth to be natural but not enough to be a modern building, curve in as if to cover whatever is inside them. Blue light, rippling over the room like it had to get through water, mixing with the light of several candles to paint the atmosphere a golden kind of turquoise. It’s unusual and somewhere halfway between magical and spooky, but it’s also oddly soothing.

Secure, more than stifling. It’s a nice change of pace.

As for the furnitures, aside from the way they curve in to accommodate the walls, they look fairly infirmary-like. A spartan bedside table for each of the three narrow cots, a roll up tray with instruments waiting to be used, and a basket filled with whatever it is an infirmary needs to throw away. To the left, a closed door. To the right, a door left ajar, the low hum of conversation filtering through it—probably Anansi’s room, then. Tony should probably go and visit.

He doesn’t have it in him to do it, though.

He didn’t expect to wake up. didn’t even really want to, either. What does he have to come back to, these days? An empty house without Jarvis? A bunch of broken dreams? More problems than he can even begin to count? And that’s taking Loki out of the equation. Loki who, unless he’s even more of a jerk than he already showed, might come walking though that door at any moment.

Wonderful.

Honestly, tony wishes he could stop thinking about him. He’s going to have to, at some point, whether he likes it or not. Might even be a good idea to do so, in the long run. Right now though, nothing in his body hurts—not even the reactor—and his mind is just numb enough to keep him from a fall in complete despair.

It’s not ideal, but compared to the past few days it’s progress, and Tony is not going to ruin it with undue concern, thank you very much.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about Anansi’s health?”

It take tremendous effort to look at the woman again. Here eyes, almond shaped with a distinct fold at the corners, are so dark they’re almost black, but they’re warm too, and comforting. Well, there’s also a hint of reproach in there, but Tony doesn’t really have the energy to care about that.

“I assume he’ll be alright. He’s a God.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try and be a proper friend to him. Or, you know, a polite person.”

Tony tries to snort, but it comes our more like a huff of breath. Either way, it’s not the answer the woman was angling fro, because she crosses her arms over her chest with a more obviously disapproving stare. She’s wearing an apron over a purple wool tunic, more prepared for viking ships than the imperial court of China, but what does Tony know about mythology, after all? Just ‘cause nobody talks about godly emigration doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

“Just because you’re out of it doesn’t mean you get to be an ass, Tony Stark.”

“And just ‘cause you know my name doesn’t mean you get to use it like you’re my mom,” Tony replies without much heat, “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Only because you didn’t ask.”

The woman’s voice deepens with every sentence, like her annoyance at Tony can be measured in how many octaves she can drop. She still reaches for a bowl and holds it out to Tony, with a firm ‘eat something’ when he takes it in hand.

It’s something like gruel, bland-looking on the whole, though when Tony tries it he finds nuts, honey and dried fruits as well. He doesn’t have the capacity to enjoy it in full, that’s true, but at least it tastes of something.

There are worse thing to unenthusiastically munch on.

“My name’s Sigyn, by the way.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Tony doesn’t quite get why until Sigyn adds:

“You might know me as Loki’s wife.”

#MCU Fic #Tony Stark #Loki #SEADLA #Fanfiction #MCU

1 note · View note