#but next to the engines he's FUCKING PUNY

[theredengineapologist]

Sometimes a family can be just a dad and his seven giant steam locomotive children.

Bonus James-centric screenshots because I have a favorite child (clearly):

#ttte memes #ttte shitpost #ttte #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #sir topham hatt #ttte thomas #ttte james #james the red engine #ttte edward #ttte gordon #ttte henry #ttte percy #ttte emily #shitpost #i will never get over how FUCKIN HUGE the engines are in cgi #any group shot they have with sth will always be funny to me #because sth is already short by human standards #but next to the engines he's FUCKING PUNY #SMOL ASS MAN #these giant ass steam locos (who are all older than sth too let's be honest) all gather round and are like “hi dad :D” #and sth looks back at them and are like “hello children :D” #it's so funny to me i don't know how else to explain it XD #redengineposts

[beepiesheepie]

Engineer headcanons from moi:

-loves summer, favorite season. Not just because it was the one time of year he got a break in his 10+ years of uni

-master barbecue man it's in his Texan blood. Makes his own sauces

-hates hates hates hot dogs because thats what he ate 24/7 as his meals in uni. His parents and grandparents never gave him money for uni so he would learn independence and boy howdy did he learn (derogatory). Because his diet was mostly hotdogs, pasta, and jello he actually couldn't eat anything else for a while after graduating- he would get sick, his stomach wasnt used to anything else. He's fine now though but it was pretty scary at the time. If you ask he will grill you a hot dog but you can see his blood freeze when you do.

-does cookouts for the team when it's a nice enough day on a weekend. They love him for it. He often serves ribs, steak, and chicken wings, his one vegetarian option is a salad.

-can and will stay up into the night working if he isn't persuaded to bed

-in uni engie slept 4-5 hours a night and crashed on the weekends, so if you're under engie and he's asleep you are NOT getting up

-knows how to ride a horse, has done it plenty of times

-sometimes he takes off the gunslinger or any prosthetic cause after a while the weight of it hurts his shoulders and back. Oftentimes when like this he forgets its off and tries doing things with his right hand only to go "Oh yeah, right"

- very bad with literary analysis on a deeper level. Flirt talk is fine, basic analysis is fine (this character represents the rich, this conflict is about being greedy), but if you ask him to go deeper he'll start getting stuck, hates when things are open ended like that, how are you supposed to solve anything?

-emotionally intelligent when it comes to knowing how other people feel and how he feels but when he snaps he snaps

-likes being up early to watch the sun rise

-has some old college merch that he keeps with him but it's really old. Has a little flag he hung up in the workshop. Kept his graduation cap and he has his PhDs proudly hung above his workbench in the workshop.

-speaking of, I imagine the workshop is a huge basement area, pretty large room but you wouldn't know with how much stuff is in it. It's filled to the brim with crates and mechanical parts and junk and somehow he found a way to have a tiny living area- its just a mini fridge, a table with food on it, a stool, and a radio next to a bed he has for when he wants to crash and not walk up stairs to his room. (I hc they each have individual rooms, but the size of them is, uh, puny. Basically broom closets +)

-god tier at cooking

-calls all soda 'coke' even if that isn't the specific soda he wants

-he was super scrawny and acne ridden upon entering uni. Sometimes he shows his old ID or a photo before he got on the train to uni to people and they just go "who the hell is this, did you have a brother"

-the words "Remember, you're a Conhager!" Are seared into his brain like a cattle brand

-goes outside and takes pictures of the tornado when the sirens go off, everyone but Soldier and Medic think he's insane for that

-has never slept in a comfy bed. Maybe one night at a hotel for something but he's never really owned in and slept in a comfy bed.

-is besties with most people on the team. Tries to be a dad figure for Pauling but Spy filled that niche before he did

-not a headcanon but did you know engie is 5'7". He is a normal height. What the fuck. This means Sniper is 6'4" and Heavy is 6'5". Soldier is 6'. Everyone on this team is fucking gigantic.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 engineer #i love him so much

[drethanramslay]

A funny thing called Fate: Chapter 2

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Aisha Khurrana)

Word Count: 4.6 K words (yeah yeah its more than usual)

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Warning: None, just some cursing

Author’s note: The next chapter is here and it is in Aisha’s POV!!

I decided to take part in @choicesseptemberchallenge20​ and the prompt is heaven which you will find in bold. 

TERMS THAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

- IIT, Delhi: It’s one of the most premier institute for engineering in India. Delhi campus is said to be the best one in the country. The majority of the Indian CEO’s like Google, at least have a degree of IIT under their belt. 

-ku'uipo: Sweetheart

-'Ae: Yes

- Beta padhai par dhyaan do, dost aate jaate hai: Child, focus on your studies, friends come and go (TBH this is the one line which maximum desi kids have heard while growing up. That's why we can be uh.. awkward in making new friends lol)

-Main kya gadhi hoon: I'm such a dumbass (side note: gadhi (female) actually means donkey in hindi)

-Duniya main maine itna bada gaandu kabhi dekha nahi hai maine: I have not seen a bigger asshole than this guy. (yes I love swearing in hindi and what about it)

Forgive me if i made any errors

10 YEARS AGO- AISHA'S POV

My fingers ran against the spines of the book, my head tilted as I searched for a new book to dive into.

"Found anything of your liking, Aisha?" Tina, the librarian asked, her kind eyes twinkling. The old librarian loved me because I always helped around in sorting the books or with checkout. She suggested that if I were to help her, she would pay me so I decided why not?

But the lack of people coming to the library and their constant need to be fake on social media, flexing about their looks instead of textbooks often left the library empty which consequently resulted in free time.

Not that I minded.

In that free time I would either catch up on my study assignments or I would read the books recently added to the collection be it fiction, politics, history, astronomy... I wasn't picky about the genres.

But lately, my attention is being drawn to medical journals and textbooks. Yes, I'm 16 and that its definitely not people my age do but, to be the person balancing on the tightrope between life and death, the person who stands between existence and heaven... it's just a beautiful paradox that I can't help be captivated by the concept.

That and my strengths are biology and chemistry so its just an added plus. So, I definitely dream of being a world class doctor. 

Not to brag, but I know all the pulse points in the body and can name the bones of the skull in my sleep. My parents don't know that because... let's say there is a reason why I stay out of home for the majority of the day.

Are we again going to go over this? I am sick and tired of your fucking indiscipline. How I wish you could be more like Aditya... Mama's voice rung in my ears which made me close my eyes and take a shuddering breath.

Now is not the time to think about how awful you are. I repeated it in my head like a mantra, making it a point to message my brother and rant about the newest development.

Despite our parents trying to pit me against bhaiya, we were thick as thieves. We always had each other's backs and we're there to cheer each other up. Whenever our parents would scream at any of us, we would wait until they fell asleep to do something to lift the other person up. Midnight feasts, movie binge or just cuddling and imagining a future where we were away from them... That always managed to cheer me up and I knew bhaiya enjoyed it too.

I don't think we fought that much either because we were pretty close in age, with only three and a half years difference. We are pretty like-minded and scientifically inclined only he was interested in computer engineering while I was fascinated by the engineering of the human body.

It sucked that he is in IIT, Delhi while I'm so far away. We still manage to video call irrespective of the time zones but it is not the same as having the comfort of your older brother.

"I think I will take this." I handed her a battered copy of Gray's anatomy.

Tina just gave a knowing smile and I checked out. I headed to the nearby Fleming Beach Park, which is one of the most popular beaches in Maui. It was a five-minute walk from the library and the majority of the school population used to come here to hang out in the evenings.

Not that I was paying any attention to my oblivious classmates.

I headed to Kimo's Beach Shack and the owner gave me a gentle smile.

"What will it be, ku'uipo? The usual?" They asked as they wiped their hand on the dishtowel.

"'Ae." I smiled at them and they started making my favourite drink- Strawberry milkshake.

Precariously balancing my bag, the drink in one hand and my wrist-thick library book under the armpit of my other hand, I headed to the quieter side of the beach, away from the raucous.

I settle down under the shade of the palm trees and lean back against the rocks, taking in the view around me. I could see people from my school roaming around in their swimming suits either playing volleyball or surfing. As I sipped my milkshake (looking like an absolute loner, must I add) my eyes drifted to their happy faces as the joked around, laughing and having fun with their friends.

The two concepts that are so unfamiliar to me.

When I was back in India, I had a good group of friends who I would hang out with and play basketball with. It was good but shifting to a new place can strain those relationships. I do follow them on social media but seeing them enjoying and doing the things which we used to do together, it causes my heart to ache.

And I never really tried making friends here in Maui because a) The people here didn't consider me as one of them and b) My parents kept on saying it is temporary so there was no point focusing on that. Beta padhai par dhyaan do, dost aate jaate hai. My dad told me the one night I decided to express my excessive loneliness.

Thanks papa, real helpful. I shook my head, sipping my drink as I carefully opened my library book.

"You look sad." A childish voice spoke up breaking me out from my melancholy. I looked up and saw a four-year-old girl, her doe-like eyes staring down at me. She was wearing a pink summer dress and a cute bow hairband, taming her light brown hair.

"Huh?"

"You look sad... and lonely."

"I am okay, keiki... Don't worry."

The kid's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "How did you know my name?"

My eyes widened. In the two years in Hawaii, I had learnt a little bit of Hawaiian and spoke in bits and pieces. And I'm pretty sure keiki meant 'child' in Hawaiian so you could imagine the shock I felt when her name was the literal translation of child.

Who the fuck names their child... child?

"A lucky guess. It is nice to meet you Keiki." She moved her hand forward and Keiki's hand clutched my big hand with her small ones shaking it. Her hand was as big as my palm.

"What's your name?" Keikie asked as she sat down next to me.

"I'm Aisha. And, what are you doing here all alone?"

"I came with my elder brother but he and his friends were playing and he forgot his promise to build a sandcastle with me. So I just went walking." She huffed and crossed her short arms across her chest.

"Well, your brother would be worried about you, won't he?" I asked as her eyes scan the crowd, looking for a guy who remotely looks like my little companion.

"Well, I think that's a go-good puni-shi-ment for him." She struggled with the big word.

Aisha chuckled and soon Keiki's giggles joined hers.

"You remind me of the times when I used to bother my elder brother like that. He would get so mad."

"Where is he now?" She asked as her hands fisted the sand, her eyes moving to look at the brunette.

"Well, he is in university, in a completely different country."

"Do you miss him?"

"A lot." I sighed. Her puppy eyes met mine and she reached to hold my elbow. I smiled down at her, appreciating the gesture. She opened her mouth to ask me more questions when we heard a commotion.

"KEIKI!! There you are!" A shout wafted towards us, interrupting Keiki. I saw a tall guy jogging towards us and when my eyes landed on him, I immediately recognized him.

Bryce Lahela. The golden boy of my school, with girls and guys falling for him, left, right, centre. And right now, he was approaching me completely shirtless, his abs glistening in the evening sun. He had a Polynesian tattoo wrapping around his left bicep and ending a little below his collarbone which had me feeling... uh thirsty?

Cool, cool, cool, just act like yourself.

Yeah as if that's helped you deal with your awkwardness. Her conscience snarked at her.

“Shut up.” I muttered to myself. But, I wasn’t subtle enough and Bryce turned towards me, a weird look in his eyes.

Off to a great start, Aisha. Keep up the good work. I mentally groaned as I went back to reading my library book. 

"Thank god Keiki you are okay... I was so worried." He kneeled and hugged her, immediately forgetting my weird mumblings. I could feel the body heat emanating from him and suddenly, the anatomy of the kidney seemed more interesting than the hot guy beside me.

"Its okay Bryce. I was talking to my new friend." Keiki squeaked as she pulled away from the hug, two sets of hazel eyes staring at me now.

My eyes widened and I subconsciously reached to push my glasses up my nose, feeling the back of my neck heating up.

"Well, thank you so much." His voice reverberated and I swear I felt as if I would combust at the spot.

I looked up and shot a tiny smile. "No worries. Keiki here makes a nice study buddy."

I internally smacked my head. Study buddy? Really? Who uses that term now?

"Of course. Daddy says that I'm a beauty with brains." She said with a smug smile.

"Well, that's the one thing that I agree with dad," Bryce said as he settled down on her other side. The one feet distance enabled my mind to resume working.

I smiled down at Keiki and I found that Bryce was looking at me intently.

O... okay?

"Wait... You go to my school right? Lahainaluna High School?"

I nodded my head. I was about to introduce myself when his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He was snapping his fingers when his face lightened up with recognition. "You are Aisha, right? The newbie who joined us last year I was in your chemistry class last year."

The drink almost fell from my hand and I had to clutch it tighter to prevent myself from making a bigger mess. Clearing my throat I smiled nervously. "Yeah, that's me. You are Bryce, right? You are on the basketball team, right?"

"You know me?" He asked, shocked and I could hardly stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"Duh?! You are Mr. Popular with really good looks and either people love you or hate you." I rambled off.

A small smile played on his lips. "And which category would you belong too? The love or hate category?"

I gave a shy smile. "Let's just say I'm on neutral grounds. Give me a good reason why I should like you."

"Because of my dashing looks? My tattoo?" He stretched his hands wide, gesturing towards himself. His hair caught the evening light, making it look like a halo. His hazel eyes had flecks of gold which threatened to drown me but before I could get lost in his sheer beauty, I shook my head to snap out of the daze of his presence and gave a mocking sigh.

"Aaaannnndd, he is just like other dumb jocks who is overly obsessed with his looks. Why are they all the same?"

Keiki put her hand sympathetically on my lap. "Don't worry Ash. I don't like Bryce when he talks about his looks either."

Bryce gasped. "Keiki you are breaking my heart."

"Good."

He reached for her and started tickling her which made her squeal with laughter. I had to get up so that the sand doesn't get on me, laughing at the sight. "Brryyccee!! Stopp!!"

"Not until you tell me I'm the best brother in the world."

Gasping for breath with tears in her eyes, Keiki breathed out in defeat. "Okay, okay. You are the best... brother in... the world."

Bryce pulled back a grin playing on his lips.

"Good."

My phone rang and I saw Mama's name flash on the screen which made me sigh.

"Your mom?" Bryce asked.

"Yep. should reach home before she turns into momzilla." We chuckled as I put my book into my bag.

"Bye Keiki, it was nice talking to you."

"Bye Ash. I like you. Can we make sandcastles next time?" I laughed and nodded, "Sure sweetie."

"Where is my goodbye?" Bryce pouted.

I rolled her eyes. "Bye Bryce. See you around."

And with that, I turned on her heel, and walked home, feeling much better.

PRESENT

Aisha felt like banging her head against the wall of the hospital out of utter embarrassment. In the span of 7 hours, she had pissed off her superior, met her ex from ten years ago, got stuck with a partner who hardly did anything and now managed to embarrass herself yet again in front of her role model.

Rookie... Are you hiding from me? The way Dr. Ramsey had an eyebrow raised, as if to question why she was hiding behind another intern and the appalled expression as she stumbled over her words were forever imprinted in her mind.

Not my brightest moment. Aisha recollected as she sighed at the way she stuttered and finally came up with an excuse.

I'm doing charts. She mocked herself as she shook her head. There was a table right next to me!! I could have come up with anything but that weak ass excuse.

And she had always dreamed that if she were to meet Bryce in real life, she would definitely insult the fuck out of him and then for the finishing stroke, she would probably punch him in his handsome face or kick him in the crown jewels.

But sadly, you seldom get the things you wish for.

I don't have time for this - Main kya gadhi hoon. She mentally groaned as she tried to shut off the part of her brain which was so hell-bent on making her feel humiliated.

She entered Annie's room to find her curled up in her bed, playing idly with her phone. She perked up a little when she saw Aisha, forcing a smile on her face.

"Oh. Hi, Dr. Khurrana."

"I just came by to see how you're feeling Annie."

Annie shrugged. "The same. The nurse came by and gave me some medication a little while ago.."

Opening Annie's chart she checked. "Yeah, antibiotics. It's too soon to see any improvement yet, but hopefully, we'll see some results soon."

Aisha was about to turn on her heel and leave when she heard Annie's small voice. "hey, could you stay awhile? It's... kinda lonely, being here all on my own."

Aisha gave an empathetic smile and reached to sit down on the chair near her bed. "Of course I can."

"Thank you once again doc."

"No, thank you. I haven't been off my feet since I got out of bed this morning. So Annie," Aisha leaned forward, "what are you studying?"

Annie blinked as if she was confused by the question. She took a couple of heavy breaths before attempting to answer.

"My master's is in... English... but my... my..." She swayed, her voice woozy as she tried to finish her sentence.

Aisha was on alert. "Annie, are you feeling okay?" She asked as she felt her pulse which was dropping before Annie passed out.

The heart rate monitor sounded a long, flat tone as her heart stopped.

"OH MY GOD!! Code blue, I need some help here!!" Aisha shouted, pressing the button near her bed.

"C'mon Annie stay with me." As Aisha stood on the nearby stool, performing CPR as she waited for the code team to arrive.

"Aisha?!" Jackie's shocked voice made her lookup.

"Jackie, where is the code team?"

"Room 502 called a code blue just before you. Just keep up with CPR. They'll get to you when they can!"

Aisha's eyes flashed. "That could be too late!! Help me, Jackie we are losing her fast."

"What were her symptoms?" Jackie asked as she snapped on the latex gloves and moved towards the bed.

"Symptoms were headache and nausea. Started during her vacation to Indonesia. Aurora and I did a blood workup and gave her cefpodoxime." Aisha opened the gown and Jackie's eyes narrowed in on the rash rapidly spreading on the side of the body.

"She is breaking in hives. She is in anaphylactic shock!"

"Now that I think about it, it may be because of her allergy to the antibiotics I gave... I had fucking asked her, dammit." Guilt made her chest heavy.

Jackie's face turned into a scowl as she wheeled the defibrillator cart closer. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is. This girl needs you now! We have to get her heart started ourselves."

Aisha nodded as she opened Annie's gown, baring her chest. She took a steadying breath. You have done this numerous times in AIIMS, you can do this.

Taking the paddles, she placed one paddle on the right side, beneath her collarbone and the other paddle on the left side, just beneath her armpit.

A small impressive smile made its way on Jackie's lips. "Good, now set the charge."

"Charging to 300 volts... Clear!"

Annie's body spasmed as the paddles discharged. Keeping them aside, Aisha resumed her compressions on Annie's chest.

C'mon Annie... You can do this... Come back to me. Aisha prayed.

The monitor beeped twice before Annie's heartbeat returned, accelerated but constant.

She let out a sigh of breath as she bent over the bed. Jackie clapped her back. "You are soooo lucky."

"Shut up. Now just give her an epinephrine injection and intubate while I maintain compression."

Jackie nodded her head and Aisha shot a grateful smile as she continued her compressions, her hands aching.

"What the hell is going on in here, Rookie?"

Yikes. Aisha winced at the tone and looked up to find Dr. Ramsey glaring from the doorway.

Time to own up, buddy. She sighed and spoke up. "Dr. Ramsey, she was allergic to the antibiotics I prescribed.

She couldn't gauge his reaction from so far away. "Well... at least you are taking responsibility. Sometimes patients don't know about their own allergies. That's why you always have to be cautious."

Jackie injected the epinephrine pen into Annie's tight. Still unconscious, Annie took a shuddering gasp of air.

"And now we intubate."

"Excellent work, Doctor...?"

A self-satisfied smile made its way on Jackie's face. "Varma."

"You were assigned to this case?"

"No, I was passing and I hear Dr. Khurrana calling a code blue."

A smile made its way on his face which shocked Aisha. This man voluntarily uses his facial muscles to smile? I wouldn't have known. "The patient's very lucky you were here. I'm not confident Dr. Khurrana could have handled this alone."

Now, wait a damn minute... Aisha clenched her jaw. This wasn't her first time she was getting insulted and yeah it was called for but it didn't help her feel any better either.

Jackie bit her lip and glanced at Aisha, which Aisha pointedly ignored. Watch her jump at the opportunity in 3...2...1

"Thank you. Just doing my job, Dr. Ramsey."

There it is.

Gulping down her annoyance, Aisha spoke up. "Dr. Varma really bailed me out." Aisha turned towards Jackie and nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Dr. Varma."

Jackie tried to read her, guilt swimming in her eyes.

She should be guilty, she took the credit of the save when I was the one calling the shots.

"...Anytime."

Fuck you. She narrowed her eyes slightly which made Jackie wince.

Luckily, Dr. Ramsey gave Jackie an out. "Dr. Varma, you should return to your patients."

A relieved smile made its way on her face. "Yes, Doctor." Throwing a backward glance towards Aisha, she walked out.

Dr. Ramsey swivelled towards Aisha, his face drawn tight with annoyance. "And you... you need to have a long hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here. It doesn't matter that it's your first day, or that you're still learning. Whether this girl lives or dies is on you. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Dr. Ramsey."

"You still have no idea what's wrong with her, and your first attempt nearly killed her. This is the real world. No room for mista--"

"Hi, Dr. Ramsey? Sorry to interrupt." A short Asian intern interrupted him and Aisha let out a small sigh of relief.

This guy would give my parents a run for their money. Why do I meet assholes everywhere I go?

"For the love of God, what now?"

"One of the nurses told me... that one of the other interns told them... that one of the doctors said..."

Dr. Ramsey certainly didn't enjoy beating around the bush. With a biting voice, sharp enough to make both Aisha and the intern to flinch, he commanded. "Skip to the point."

"Dr. Toussaint needs to see you urgently." She rushed.

Dr. Ramsey pinched the bridge of his nose, muttered something about 'interns' under his breath.

Straightening his coat, who gave pointedly glanced at Aisha. "Remember what I said, Rookie. Next time I see you, you'd better have solved the case." He turned on his feet and stormed out making the petite intern jump.  

Aisha stepped out into the hall with the intern, leaned against the wall and let out a sigh.

"Thank god for Dr. Toussaint. I swear if he wouldn't have called, Dr. Ramsey would have burst a vein or something."

The intern leaned against the wall adjacent to Aisha. "Yeah... Too bad he doesn't actually need to see Dr. Ramsey."

Aisha's eyes widened and she turned to stare at the other intern. "Huh?"

"I made it up! I could hear Ramsey chewing you out halfway down the hall, I figured you might need a save."

Oh my god, that is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me.

Aisha smiled brightly. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. But you could get in serious trouble if he realizes it."

She shrugged with a cheeky grin. "If. Besides, I'm tougher than I look. I'm Sienna by the way. Or Dr. Trinh. Whichever floats your boat."

"I'm Aisha Khurrana. Thanks again." Aisha's pager beeped and she looked down and sighed. "As fun as our little adventure was, I need to get back to work. Nice talking to you Sienna and once again, thanks for the save."

"Bye, hope you solve the case. Also, wait! I heard all the doctors hang out at this bar called Donahue's. I think, just down the street. Apparently, it's like the place to go and decompress after a long shift. Wanna come?"

"Sure!! If only I survive my first shift."

Sienna gave a brilliant smile. "Assuming you live through the next few hours, I'll meet you in the atrium after we clock out."

And Aisha got back to work, tending to her other patients but Annie's unconscious face kept on flashing behind her eyelids and Ramsey's words echoed in her head, like a broken tape recorder.

You need to have a long hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here.

She took a shuddering breath, doubt slipping into her mind, making her question everything she did. Every patient she treated and every prescription she signed.

Am I really cut out for this?

She tried to stop the rising anxiety but it still continued to swell in her like a balloon. Her throat began to dry up and it felt as if the weight on her chest didn't allow her to breathe.

Oh god, it's happening.

Feeling like she was on the verge of a breakdown, she ducked into a dark supply closet so nobody could see her while she tried to pull herself together.

It's okay. You worked your way through med school to get here. You are worthy. She chanted, taking in gulps of air.

It had hardly been a minute when the door suddenly opened and she heard footsteps.

Aisha internally groaned in annoyance. "Get in or get out. Just quit holding the door." She turned around and saw Bryce.

Oh fuck.

He nervously cleared his throat and walked towards her, maintaining his distance. "I feel like I'm interrupting something. Are... are you okay?"

Thanks to the dark, he couldn't see her tear rimmed eyes. Sighing loudly she untied her hair and ran her fingers through it, something she often did when she felt like her life was on the verge of falling apart.

"Nothing. I'm just looking for something." She tried to speak in a sharp tone but it just sounded like her voice was cracking.

She knew that Bryce had definitely heard how close she was to crying. Concern laced his voice. "Hey, I know when we met I was nothing but a dumb, self-obsessed jock but it's different now. I... I know you are not okay. Want to talk about it? Or vent?"

Goddamit Bryce. "Fine! I almost killed my first patient and I fucking swear to god I saw my career flash before my eyes. But it was lowkey my fault. I should have checked for allergies. But I tried fixing my error by calling the shots and Jackie helped me. BUT that's not it! Instead of being a humble person, Jackie swoops in and takes the credit of my save and Dr. Ramsey just goes on congratulating her as if she won some fucking AMA Award-"

"Aisha, breathe."

Taking a lungful of air she continued. "- And don't even get me started on Dr. Ethan Freaking Ramsey. Duniya main maine itna bada gaandu kabhi dekha nahi hai maine. What a dick!! He should get fucking laid to work off all his anger issues-"

Bryce snorted but didn't dare to interrupt Aisha. From the short time they dated, he knew better than to interrupt her mid-rant, it only managed to instigate her.

Another deep breathe. "- Boy does he manage to make me doubt myself in every step of the way like am I worthy of being here? I mean, I threw my heart and soul into med school because I wanted to be the best doctor out there but dammit I don't think I am ready."

When he made sure she wasn't going to launch into a new roast session, he spoke up. "Wow. You managed so many years of med school, but eight hours into the shift and you're surrendering? Didn't take you for a quitter."

Excuse me? Aisha's eyes narrowed.

"You don't know me anymore Bryce. The Aisha you dated is long gone and dead." She said in a low voice.

He shrugged. "True, but I know that you still have the fire in you to do what you love the most. C'mon, you have dealt with worse but yet you are here, standing tall. This is just temporary. I know you can pick yourself back up and break down all the obstacles in front of you."

She looked up at Bryce, only able to see the faint outline of his body. He still was the same- tall, well built and with really good hair. "No offence but... you used to be the guy who would wet himself during chemistry practicals, what happened to make you so...?" She gestured her hand at him, accidentally hitting his hand.

He hesitated. "As you said, things changed and you don't know me anymore Aisha."

"Fair enough."

The lack of space and the awkward silence just fueled the tension between them. She could feel his converse bumping into her shoes and the heated gaze on her face.

There used to be a time when Aisha and Bryce would talk for hours on end and they never ran out of topics to talk about. Be it something as lame as which is the superior flavour of ice cream or as deep as life after death.

Look at us now... Aisha thought to herself, gulping.

Her hair fell on her face as she averted her eyes, unable to come up with something to talk about. Bryce's hand involuntary reached to push back the rebel strands behind her ear, his hands caressing her cheek in the process. It felt as if electric sparks shot up her cheeks, making her blush.

Bryce opened his mouth. "Aisha-"

The door opened and she heard a feminine voice. "Bryce I saw you giving me the look so I decided to join you-"

A woman walked around the corner of the help and Aisha's jaw dropped. It was not because she was shocked that he was dating, he could screw the entire hospital for all she cared but, no... she was topless.

"Oh." The unknown woman placed her hands beside her.

"Sam-" Bryce began and Aisha spoke up at the same time. "I was just-"

The confusion was interrupted again when the closet door opened again and a senior resident stood before them, aghast. "What is going on over here?"

"Oh fuck." The expletive spilt from Aisha's lips.

The topless woman, whose name apparently was Sam, quipped in. "Yeah what she said."

Well, this is totally not awkward.

AUTHOR”S NOTE #2:

Number one, yeah I dragged PB a bit in regards to Keiki’s name.. PB do your research challenge 🙄

Number two, okay so about the tattoo part, me and @bratzlahela​ were just talking about Bryce having Polynesian tattoos based on this post and I had to integrate it in my series lol

This is something I imagined 🤭

Number 3, Also I tried to change up the scene a bit with Jackie because tbh, Aisha is pretty fucking smart and she won’t be like “Boo-hoo. I don’t know anything” And about the part where she spoke about using the defibrillator numerous times in AIIMS, In India the medical education is a little more hands-on and focuses more on clinical practice rather than theory. Medical students from first year start doing ward duty and help around in the hospitals taking patient history, etc. Also, they have a mandatory year of internship without which you don’t get your license.  

Number 4, So about that supply closet scene, how many of y’all thought would you get a make out sesh?

If yes, here is your clown wig 🤡

Number 5, AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT TODDLER KEIKI I SWEAR I WAS JUST GUSHING THE ENTIRE TIME 🥺

Lastly, IT PHYSICALLY HURT ME TO ROAST ETHAN LIKE IM SO SORRY SWEETIE 😭🥺🤧

This was a pretty long author’s note heheheh

Like, comment, reblog and share your thoughts ❤

Bryce X MC: @lilyvalentine @sanchita012 @zeniamiii @lucy-268 @have-aheart @utterlyinevitable @anotherbeingsworld @this-person-is-busy @cryinginthebackseat @mayascherub @jaxsmutsuo @rookie-ramsey @aylamreads @caseyvalentineramsey @arcticlumineer​ @chetachisblog​ @kelseaaa​

Permanent Tag list: @trappedinfandoms @agent-breakdance  @dailydoseofchoices @colossalpainintheass @siaramsey @raleigheffingcarrera @kaavyaethanramsey @theeccentricbibliophile @ac27dj @ramseysno1rookie @justanotherrookie @jamespotterthefirst @checkurwindow @chasingrobbie @junggoku @bellcat2010 @choicesstan1 @mvalentine @crazynutella @hatescapsicum @dr-ramseys-rookie @lilypills @vampireblissblog @decadentwinnerjudgedream @starrystarrytrouble @drariellevalentine @choicesficwriterscreations @nooruleman @anonymously-cool @sanvivrma

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist)

#anushka writes #oh bryce #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #open heart bryce #bryce lahela x mc #aisha khurrana #bryce x aisha #open heart #open heart mc #choices oh #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #pixelberry #a funny thing called fate #series

[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 11 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Tessering

Part 11, coming at you! This part doesn’t have too much Sonic x Y/n, but don’t worry my darlings, I am saving that for the next chapter ;) This one includes some mother-daughter relationships and tons of foreshadowing. Enjoy!

Warnings - slight angst, robotnik x stone mentions

♡♡♡

“Why so down, Sonic?” A man with a head as smooth as an eggshell asked his pet boulder as it sat next to him in his poorly repaired drone. The boulder had tiny little dents in its craters that were obviously created by Robotnik to form a dopey grin and two misshapen eye sockets. The man chortled to himself as he tapped the cracked glass where an electric blue quill sat, charging up his entire machine. “Aww, are you sad because I’m coming back home?”

Robotnik stared intently at the little boulder, watching as it practically began to sweat under his intense gaze. He finally sat back up and let out yet another loud chuckle, filling the silent air around him for miles. “Sorry to disappoint, bud, but you and your little girlfriend are going to be toast as soon as I wrap my hands around your puny little necks~” He sang out the last part, his time spent in isolation taking an immense toll on his sanity. His tethered and gloved hands expertly found their way across his very dented control panel, clicking on a bunch of buttons that ended up making the drone begin to whirr. The air surrounding him that reeked of fungus began to churn at the new winds. 

“Come on, baby,” Robotnik grumbled, pushing his prized invention to the limit as it began to levitate its misshapen and damaged body a couple feet off the ground. The engines worked in tandem with one another, struggling to compensate for the extreme damage that had been inflicted upon them. Even Robotnik’s expert repair jobs using the emergency kits Stone had made him place in every one of his drones wasn’t enough to make up for it all. 

He guessed Stone was right for once. Shocker.

The erratic energy being extracted from Sonic’s quill mingled with the artificial power he was able to save. As the drone began to sputter, he quickly grabbed onto the throttle in an attempt to steady the drone, even his hideously long mustache hairs twitching with anticipation. He had to do it. He had to make this work. He couldn’t stand another second trapped here with Mushroom Bertha, Mushroom Kick-Sonic’s-Ass, Mushroom Carl, and Mushroom I-Want-A-Hedgehog-Skin-Rug or IWAHS for short. After a couple of minutes spent in agonizing suspense, a little glimmer began to form in the air before him. A malicious grin made its way across his lips as he realized that his plan was working.

The energy coming from his drone was enough to cause a small rip in the universe, mostly due to Sonic’s alienated DNA and ability to tesser between universes. The tear grew a decent size wider, its edges glowing an abnormal white and a very faint image of what he presumed to be Green Hills glimmered within it. It was right there. He was going to make it! It was barely big enough for him to pass through, but it was all he needed. With a surge of energy and Robotnik practically gritting his teeth until they chipped, the drone shot through the portal in a flash of blinding light, crash landing onto a very mossy green ground. The impact made Robotnik slam his face against the throttle, but luckily his gigantic mustache hairs cushioned the blow. The drone slowly began to let off steam, already having used all of its juices to float for less than thirty minutes. A steady blow of steam began to shoot up into the air from one of the drones' important capsules, and Robotnik was quick to regain consciousness, standing up and practically falling back down into his seat from the excitement. He looked around the area, hoping taking over his entire internal chemistry as he looked at his surroundings. The hope died almost instantly as he came to a horrific conclusion.

This… this wasn’t Green Hills! 

What the actual fuck?!

There were oddly misshapen trees and abnormal creatures waddling around the perimeter and LOOP-DE-LOOPS?! The anger got the better of him as he picked up the boulder sitting next to him and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“God damnit, Sonic! This is all your fault!” And the tiny boulder was sent flying out of the drone to land against the grass, where it rolled down a hill.

It was safe from the evil man’s clutches at last.

Robotnik let out another frustrated groan and slammed his fists down onto the dash, causing even more smoke to secrete from vital components of the drone. But he didn’t care right now. He had been working on building up all of that power for months. To have it all lost getting him somewhere that wasn’t even where he needed to be - where those goddamn hedgehogs were! And now he was stuck in this crazy backwards land with nothing to defend himself with. At least back with the mushrooms the only predator was sleep deprivation.

And of course, that was self inflicted.

“Oh thank god.” A sudden voice broke through his frustrations. Robotnik’s head snapped up so quickly he was sure he heard his neck crack. He was expecting the worst: three headed bear, snake crossed with a lizard, horse sized horsefly, something deadly and positively hideous. So when he saw a little black and red hedgehog staring at him intently with ruby irises and what looked to be a gun and a little bag situated around his hips, he was very, VERY surprised.

“Well, who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Robotnik couldn’t help but blurt. The hedgehog looked incredibly relieved as he came closer to the drone, showing his gloved hands in a means of presenting no harm.

“My name is Shadow. I was created by your assistant, Agent Stone.” Robotnik’s heart stopped at the sound of his name. “He sent me through the different universes to find you. It’s taken forever, but I finally did it. I have more rings left to get us back to the planet where Hedgehog Sonic and Hedgehog Y/n reside.” 

Robotnik was floored, to say the least. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Agent Stone, the little guy who made delicious lattes and who knew him better than anyone else, MADE a hedgehog and sent him to help Robotnik defeat the two once and for all? 

He owed him a thank you. Or maybe more than that, if you catch my drift ;)

“W-Well then, I suppose it’s nice to have you on board, Mr. Shadow. Unfortunately, my drone was a bit destroyed during the movement here, so unless you have a giant bag of tools next to your gun there, I-”

“Don’t worry, Sir, I’ve got it handled,” Shadow interrupted him, turning around to point into a throng of bushy trees. “I met an Echidna along the way who might be of use to us. Perhaps we could brainwash him into assisting us.” 

Damn. Agent Stone really did a number on this guy. Robotnik liked it. 

♡♡♡

A few hours later and a lot of impressive manipulation, Shadow and Robotnik had recruited yet another member onto their team: Knuckles the Echidna. He was a very burly red thing with intimidating eyes and an unfortunate lack of brains. But, he had resources and his muscle could even out Robotnik’s brains and Shadow’s apparent fiery temper. They were able to convince him that Y/n and Sonic were two beings from a far away planet that were power hungry and had a plot to destroy the entire universe, including this planet. Of course, Knuckles was petrified and said that they must be stopped immediately. The guy was also pretty handy with supplying the needed instruments to fix up Robotnik’s drone. 

Of course, it wasn’t the best job, but it would have to do for now. After Robotnik had done his little patch job, the trio were beginning to prep for their return to earth.

“I assume that you are very excited to defeat the two hedgehogs, Doctor,” Shadow spoke with authority. “But I think it would be better to hide out in a secluded spot for a little while in order for us to build up our resources. We wouldn’t want to go straight into battle without being prepared.” 

Even though Robotnik was really looking forward to crushing Bonnie and Clyde, he had to admit that Shadow had a point. He nodded slowly. “We’ll hide out in the woods in order to gather resources and start the formation of Metal Sonic. Agreed? Agreed.” Even though he wasn’t looking for a confirmation, the two nodded despite. Everything was going according to plan. Robotnik had gathered two allies and had already begun his plan to form a metal-based version of Sonic. For two reasons, really. The first was to use Sonic’s greatest power and turn it into his weakness, and the second was to try and trick Y/n into not being able to fight the one that she loves. They were going to destroy the two hedgehogs once and for good, donating their bodies to Robotnik’s favorite charity: science.

But what these little twerps didn’t know was that a certain fox had been spying on the three of them ever since Robotnik had crash landed a couple feet away from his lab. It was finely secluded within the weeping willow trees, so he hadn’t been able to see it. But his security measures sure saw the mustache guy.

The little fox’s stomach began to fill with dread as he thought about all of this. These guys were obviously up to no good. Anyone who loved the color combo red and black was obviously up to no good. Especially someone who grew their mustache past five inches. 

On each side.

Those two hedgehogs they had been mentioning… What were their names? Bonnie and Clyde? Funny named for hedgehogs, but he guessed that their world was different than his. He began to rummage through the different gizmos and gadgets he had spent ages on until he finally gathered all of the materials he needed. His little gloved fingers found their way to his energy-tracker as he calibrated it to their energy sources. Funny, he thought. One of them was stronger than the other. 

He narrowed his eyes in determination, steadying himself as he thought of the realm they lived in and tossed one of his golden rings. The second the portal opened, he jumped through, landing on what appeared to be a cliff looking over a small town. Relief filled his orangish-yellow chest as he looked across. He hoped he knew what he was doing. 

Extending his two tails, he leapt off the cliff.

♡♡♡

“M-Mom?” Maddie stirred in her sleep. 

“Mommy?” 

The young mother’s eyes slowly opened to be greeted with the sight of her daughter who had tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight of her daughter in distress kicked all of the sleep out of her as she instantly shot up in bed and immediately started wiping away the tears. Most of them got brushed into the fur around her eyes, but she didn’t care.

“N/n, baby, what’s wrong?” She asked softly, trying her best not to wake up her husband who still lay sound asleep behind her. Y/n only continued to cry harder, her e/c eyes glowing in the dark.

“I-I’m sorry, Mommy. I-I didn’t w-want to see i-it, I-” Maddie gently shushed her, standing on her feet and expertly lifting up the frail hedgehog onto her hip, holding her like she was a toddler. 

“Y/n, honey, you’re not making any sense.” She glanced over at the clock and realized it was barely five in the morning. What on earth was she doing up this late? Y/n was in such hysterics that all she was able to do was plant her face into Maddie’s shoulder and continue to cry, her chest feeling like a million daggers were being dug into it. Maddie’s heart was ripping at the seams for her daughter, as the last time she had seen her this upset was when Sonic had died. She quickly and quietly took the weeping hedgehog out of her room, making sure not to make a sound as she closed the door to leave her sleeping husband alone, and continued through the darkened halls until they made it to the main bathroom. She closed the door behind them and set the hedgehog onto the counter, grabbing a wad of tissues and quickly dabbing her eyes while Y/n wrapped her arms around her trembling torso.

“I-I’m s-sorry-” She hiccuped, choking on the mucus being created from her tears. Maddie’s gaze softened.

“Sweetie, what on earth could you have to be sorry for?” To her surprise, Y/n’s eyes only filled with guilt and self-disgust as she looked down at the floor. 

“...what happened?” Maddie gently cupped her daughter’s furry face in her hands and stared into her liquid e/c eyes. The deeper she looked into them, the more she was able to picture Y/n before she had turned into a hedgehog, back when she was a human. The little hedgehog exhaled a shaky breath and wrung her hands together.

“I… I woke up to singing. And I followed it outside, and there was this… thing out there. It was calling to me, and when I touched it, this is going to sound insane, but it showed me pictures of the future. I-I saw Robotnik, and I saw me and Sonic with two other people and then… the last one… M-Mommy, it looked like someone was trying to k-kill me-” Maddie’s heart stopped in her chest, her eyes widening in horror. Fresh tears began to spill down Y/n’s cheeks even faster. “I-I don’t want to die!”

Maddie quickly enveloped her in a tight hug, pressing her daughter’s head into her chest and stroking her quills gently. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. You’re not going to die.”

“H-how do you k-know that? M-my powers are growing a-and I don’t know how to s-stop it, I don’t want to kn-know how we’re going to d-die, I-” 

Maddie hushed her, continuing to stroke her quills. They sat like this for quite some time, with Maddie consoling her hysterical daughter until her sobs finally died down and were replaced with melancholic sniffles. Maddie’s heart continued to pound, however, fear and confusion coursing through her veins. She was trying with all her might to wrap her brain around the matter, but she was the one who had had the worst time figuring out how Sonic and Y/n’s powers worked in tandem with one another. Even Tom relatively understood better than she could. She knew that Y/n had vocal telekinesis, but seeing the future? Little wisp-like creatures? It didn’t seem like those had ever been mentioned or used before. 

What was going on? Was her daughter truly in danger?

Her grip around her tightened. Y/n exhaled softly and it was then that Maddie realized she had fallen asleep. A small smile crossed her lips as she picked her daughter back up and began to make her way back into the living room. She could have just taken her to her bedroom, but in all honesty, she felt safer leaving her with Sonic than by herself. As she walked through the darkened hallways, she tried to silence the red alarms blaring endlessly throughout her mind. 

Something was wrong.

She could feel it. She didn’t even need magical powers to feel it. Her breath hitched in her throat as she made her way down the stairs, making sure not to trip as she entered the living room. Sonic still lay sound asleep on the couch, not having moved an inch since Y/n had woken up. Maddie gently set her daughter down on the couch, resting her head on Sonic’s chest and covering the two with a fleece blanket. Her fingers softly traced Y/n’s jawline as she slowly stood back up, a small, yet sad, smile staying on her lips.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she whispered into the silence. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

♡ a.a.

#sonic #sonic x reader #sonic imagines #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog imagines #sonic the hedgehog movie #sonic the hedgehog movie x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie imagines #sonic the hedgehog 2020 #sonic the hedgehog 2020 x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie 2020 #sonic the hedgehog movie 2020 x reader #flawsome bandits

[cami-chats]

Just Another First Contact

For @winterironbingo Square O3: Hanahaki Disease

Also on AO3

Hanahaki Disease, Getting Together, Star Trek AU

Tony knew-- he did, he knew-- that the feeling of vines taking root in his lungs was psychosomatic and that he couldn't actually feel it because according to Doctor Cho that wasn't what was happening, but that didn't help the petals clogging his throat and choking the air from his passageway. This, he decided-- not for the first time-- was the worst alien fuck-up to ever happen to him.

Seriously what kind of weird ass fungus was this? And it sure as hell did not help that the natives to the planet claimed it was from the feeling of unrequited love. Tony had nodded along peacefully as they explained that there was nothing they could do and they were very sorry for his discomfort but it wouldn't kill him or otherwise permanently damage his system. They gave him whatever the Famoral equivalent was for a pat on the head, and sent The Avenger on its way, with an open invitation to come back anytime they desired.

Steve was a good Captain, so he'd smiled and told them of course and thank you, and then he stomped onto the ship and told Clint to get them the hell out of there and sent Tony to the med-bay. Doctor Cho did tests and scans and eventually told him-- with a very frustrated air-- that she couldn't do anything to help him yet.

That had been weeks ago. So Tony now knew tricks like not trying to swallow it down and to avoid touching Bucky too much because that only made it worse, and that he could sleep through the night if he went to sleep with extra oxygen being fed into his respiratory system. He probably could have walked around with the oxygen all the time, but the warp core didn't have a good reaction to pressurized containers, and like hell he was going to wait until this went away to step foot back in his engine room.

"Lieutenant Stark?" came Bucky's voice from behind him, and Tony jumped in surprise, hitting his head and biting back a curse.

He was already laid out in the Jeffries Tube, so he let his head fall forward onto the makeshift floor. "Can I help you Commander?" he asked, hand covering his head where the bump would appear later today.

"Captain wants to know when we'll be able to go to warp eight," he said, a hint of an apology in his voice.

Tony huffed and scooted around, crawling back into the engine room. It occurred to him now that he was already halfway out, that he should have told Bucky to go away, he was busy with repairs. "I already told him that I can't do that without a new vibranium spanner since he decided to use mine as a makeshift weapon."

Bucky offered him a hand up, and Tony took it without thinking. "He did save the ship."

"At the expense of a very important tool that we can't just replicate. Maybe next time he'll use a self-sealing stembolt and save me the trouble." Belatedly, he took his hand out of Bucky's, but he did it quickly, guiltily, causing Bucky to give a small frown, brow creasing. "Anyways," he said, adopting an airy tone and running a diagnostic on the system he hadn't had a chance to actually fix yet since Bucky interrupted him, "tell him that unless he has the replacement tool for me, I can't do anything for him, and that's final."

"I will." He made an aborted step to leave, then stopped, chewing on his lip as he turned back to Tony. "Are you okay Tony?"

"Yeah?" Tony said, confused.

"I meant with the..." Bucky motioned vaguely to his own throat, "Hanahaki disease."

"Oh." Tony looked at the console again, pretending that he was studying the results of the diagnostic. "It's fine."

"I know it's personal, but have you tried talking to whoever it is?"

"They're not interested," Tony said flatly, trying to convey that he wanted the conversation over.

Bucky either didn't hear his tone or chose to ignore it. "If you haven't talked to them how do you know for sure? You're amazing Tony, I think that if you-"

"Stop," Tony said thickly, trying to keep down the petals that felt like they were crawling up his throat like Vulcan sand spiders. "If I thought there was a chance, I'd tell them. But there isn't, so I don't." It's not like he thought Bucky hated him or something, but their relationship was pretty firmly in 'friend' territory. Bucky was a Klingon warrior, and Tony was, well, puny in comparison. He'd met Bucky's last boyfriend, and was pretty sure that if Bucky ever kissed Tony he'd accidentally be broken in half. That ex? He was easily twice as big as Tony, four times as strong, and twenty percent more attractive, objectively speaking. That wasn't enough by itself, but Tony had seen Bucky flirt, and he'd seen the people that Bucky took to bed when on shore leave, and he knew that the way Bucky treated him was nowhere near the way he acted when he was actually interested in someone.

Bucky stared at him a minute longer. "If you're sure," he said. Then, "I'm off duty at nineteen hundred, did you want to go to the holosuite? I got that lounge singer program in."

"I already have plans with Rhodey, but thanks. Maybe some other time." It was a clear brush off, and Bucky knew it.

He nodded, then left without another word, and Tony ran an aggravated hand through his hair. He had no such plans with Rhodey, so he should give him a heads up in case Bucky mentioned something. That was his plan, but then Peter-- an enthusiastic engineering cadet-- came up to him with a question about the way Tony had modified their warp engine and Tony forgot all about his idea to talk to Rhodey until hours later when he was grabbing a bite to eat in the mess hall and saw him on a date with Major Danvers. Even that wasn't enough, except he saw Bucky sitting a few tables away.

Bucky moved like he was going to get to his feet, so Tony decided in that split second that he could eat in his quarters and got the hell out of there. He had decidedly not expected for Bucky to follow him, so it was a surprise when he caught Tony's arm before he got halfway down the corridor.

Neither of them said anything for a minute, and Bucky slowly let go of his arm when it looked like he wouldn't run away again. "Just tell me. Did he blow you off for that date, or did you lie to me about having plans?"

It didn't sound great to admit the truth, so Tony said nothing.

"It's Rhodes isn't it. The person you don't think you stand a chance with."

Tony knew he should say something, but he was tired and his chest hurt, so he just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Did you tell him? You're best friends, sometimes it's easy to fall in love with someone you know that well."

Tony couldn't help it; he snorted. "Yeah? You wanna fall in love with me Bucky?" He looked up at him, dropping his hand back to his side. "You keep talking about how great I am, and we are friends." He'd meant it mockingly, but towards himself, not Bucky.

The way Bucky immediately flushed in shame though, that kinda showed that they weren't on the same page. He swallowed and averted his eyes, backing up a few steps so they weren't in the same space anymore.

Tony blinked.

"Sorry," Bucky mumbled. "I only meant-" he stopped and cleared his throat, looking down the empty corridor.

Did Bucky... like him? Everything about him was screaming that he did, and that was dangerous because Tony's heart was raising in hope. The familiar clogging of flower petals in his chest lightened, but he barely noticed, too busy staring at Bucky. "Do you- Bucky do you like me?"

He gave a tight shrug. "I thought it was pretty obvious. Everyone else seems to know. Steve kept giving me assignments to talk to you when he could've just used the comm system to ask you himself, hoping I'd- I dunno, confess or something. As if you didn't already know."

"I didn't."

Bucky's eyes shot to him, and he looked a good few seconds from panicking.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tony said, stepping closer, arms loose and nonthreatening by his side. "We could have avoided all this, not to mention I could've been getting laid for god knows how long."

"Uh, you sure you're okay?" He placed the back of his hand on Tony's forehead, which was patently unfair.

"What so you're allowed to tell me you like me but I'm not allowed to say it back? What Klingon bullshit is this?"

"It's not Klingon," Bucky said rolling his eyes and dropping his hand.

"Ah so it's bullshit specific to you, great."

"I find it hard to believe you didn't know."

"I'm not exactly your type."

"And how did reach that misguided conclusion?"

"The magic of sight," Tony said drily, turning to the side to cough. It felt like something was dislodging, and that was supremely unpleasant. "I've seen the people you hook up with."

"Yeah, and I've seen the people you hook up with."

They both stared at each other, neither of them willing to concede to the other even though they were working towards the same goal. Now that he thought about it, Tony said, "Why are we arguing?"

"I think because we don't believe each other."

"That's ridiculous." He coughed again. "Let's go to the holosuite if one's open. Is this the program with the dancers?"

"Should be. Strange said I'd love it." They were about to start walking, but Bucky paused. "Is this a date?"

"That's what I was going for."

"And me being in love with you doesn't scare you away?"

"You didn't say anything about being in love with me."

"Yeah I did."

Tony meant to say that he most certainly did not, but what happened instead was that he turned to the side-- with someone that felt very much like retching-- and proceeded to spill an entire bouquet's worth of flower petals on the bulkhead.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, eyes wide with worry as he placed a tentative hand on Tony's back.

Tony coughed so hard it scraped against his windpipe, and he could tell that the Hanahaki Disease was gone. Just like that. A love confession, a little flower vomit, and it was gone. He wasn't complaining, but this was the weirdest first contact experience he'd had in years. "Never better," he said honestly, turning back to Bucky with a wide smile. "Let me uh clean this up and then we can go."

"You sure?"

"You're not allowed to back out now Commander, you're stuck with me until I at least get a kiss out of you."

Bucky swooped down and gave him a kiss. "Do I get another kiss now that it's not required?"

"It was never required, it was just preferred."

"Sure Lieutenant," Bucky drawled. “Whatever you say.”

#winterironbingo19 #winteriron #marvel #fanfic #tony stark #bucky barnes #au #my writing

[laurasfox-originals]

A New Life – A Good Servant Bonus Story  - Excerpt

The action in this story happens mostly after the main storyline and it tries to include all the suggestions and asks from my patrons. One of the things they wanted to know was “more of Marcus”. So hopefully, I delivered. :)

This is an excerpt:

Marcus leaned against his trustful van and began playing with his knife. Ayn had filled his head with some stupid ideas he could not believe he was getting all worked up now. So he was supposed to pick up some former Master from Aeria and get the guy’s precious bum across the desert, to Haven. Ayn was sure as hell that Marcus was going to like the guy.

“And he has pretty brown eyes, and a tight ass,” Ayn had told him while presenting his best friend the man Marcus was going to meet soon.

“You had me at ‘tight ass’,” Marcus had laughed.

Where could Ayn get the idea that the guy was going to like Marcus, too, that was a mystery. That Marcus was going to like the guy, that was sure. Because Marcus liked almost anyone, man or woman. Of course, he had his preferences. He liked his men weak and delicate, and his women strong and willful. Yeah, he liked one to give him lip. It made the fucking so much better. Some said he had some fucked up tastes.

And now Ayn had filled his head with some crazy stories about this guy. He had met Lucas, and he knew Xav, Ayn’s lover, well enough. If Masters had all been chosen like those guys, strong and tall, that had to mean that Ayn was just pulling his leg. And that was what everybody was saying. The former Masters had quite the fanbase everywhere they went. They just weren’t exactly his type.

Not that Marcus wouldn’t have gotten down and dirty with any of them. That, if they were interested. But, so far, he had had no such luck. Most of them still carried a chip on their shoulders to care about getting between the sheets with guys they thought beneath them.

All in all, he wasn’t supposed to get all worked up. Yet, there he was, waiting for this guy who was supposed to be, according to Ayn, everything his cock and balls needed.

He almost dropped the knife when he saw the guy coming down the stairs of the building in front of which he had parked his van. The guy was carrying a heavy luggage in one hand.

Ayn, the fucker, hadn’t lied. The man was dressed in a dark suit that was hugging his lithe body nicely. He had wavy hair the color of milk chocolate pulled at the back into a ponytail, and his pouty lips were to die for. Marcus couldn’t see his eyes, though. The guy was walking stiffly, his gaze cast down.

“Allow me,” he hurried to take the guy’s luggage.

The man seemed to resist for a second, but eventually he let Marcus take the bag from his hand.

“Arnaud, right?” he asked, wanting to see the man’s eyes.

Wow, was all Marcus could think. Caramel eyes, the shape of almonds, stared at him, and, from up close, the heart shaped lips were begging to be kissed. Fuck. How was he going to drive with this beautiful man by his side? Ayn should have known better. If there was going to be some accident, he was going to blame it all on that fucker of a friend of his.

***

Arnaud could feel his heart struggling against the cage of his chest, the moment his eyes met the other’s. He had to look up to do that. The man was strong, tall, and towering over him, making him feel puny. His dark eyes were glinting with mischief, and Arnaud was certain he was internally laughing at his so-called travel companion.

He cleared his throat and pulled at his collar. For some reason, the man’s proximity was making him feel hot. Maybe he just feared for his safety. The man looked like he could destroy someone like Arnaud just with a simple touch. But fear was usually cold, not hot like this.

It took him moments to realize the man had asked him a question.

“Yes,” he mumbled, and stiffened.

“I’m Marcus,” the man offered a large callous hand.

Was he supposed to take it? Back in Drena, he used to be a stickler for etiquette. Therefore, he could not simply overlook the gesture. He let his hand into the man’s paw, noticing how pale his skin looked like, a stark contrast against the man’s tan.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said by force of habit and squeezed lightly the offered hand.

Which engulfed his, and kept it there, definitely more than what was socially accepted, if he could still remember such things correctly.

“The pleasure is all mine,” the man leaned in, and Arnaud could feel his breath hitching, as he delved deeper into the dark eyes.

The man was handsome, he realized through a small wave of vertigo. Not handsome like the pleasure slaves in Drena, or the servants. Not like Antoine. But his wild hair, fashioned, although that was not probably the right term, in convoluted corn rows hanging down his chest, and his rough face, and, most of all, his scent bringing the smell of desert and sun with him, along with aged leather and something else, had a strange effect on Arnaud.

He could hardly breathe. Could the man have the means to hypnotize him? By all means, Arnaud shouldn’t have been impressed by a mixed blood individual who looked a bit worse for wear, if he was judging the situation correctly.

“You were supposed to be well rested,” he pulled his hand out of the man’s grip. “And you look like you’ve spent your entire night drinking.”

Marcus raised one hand.

“Guilty as charged,” he laughed.

“Seriously?” Arnaud pursed his lips. “And we’re supposed to travel for how many hours?”

“We might take two days. We’ll stop along the way to rest, don’t worry, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?!” Arnaud exploded. “Just who do you think you are?! I see Lucas intends to eliminate me in a rather convoluted manner! There are other ways to do that, I am certain!”

Marcus caught him by the elbow as he tried to turn on his heels and retreat to the relative safety of the home he had just left.

“I’m a hell of a driver. You’re safe with me. So hop on,” the man said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Arnaud wished he had the courage to protest. But the man’s hand on him was firm, and he allowed to be helped to climb inside the man’s strange vehicle.

 ~Through the desert~

Marcus eyed his charge with curiosity. Arnaud’s beautiful face was a bit flushed, a delicious shade of pink coloring the height of his aristocratic cheeks. Maybe the guy was pissed. Well, it wasn’t like Marcus could resist teasing the guy.

But, damn, Ayn had been right. Not only the guy was beautiful as sin, he was also delicate and just like Marcus liked. He had a bit of fire in him, but not like Ayn’s Xav. This one begged to be taken in hand, he could swear. By how quickly he had obeyed the moment Marcus got a bit hard on him, that had to be it.

He almost cursed as he plopped himself down on the driver’s seat. The fucking curse of having big balls. Without paying much attention to his precious charge, he adjusted the front of his pants. He was going to give Ayn a piece of his mind once back. Again, how the hell was he supposed to drive like that? He patted down his dick. Arnaud was frigging beautiful, but now was no time to think too much of the man next to him. He had to prove the guy he could drive even after a night spent partying. Who said people in Aeria didn’t know how to party? Marcus was certain he was corrupting some scientists, and helping them fry some of their very productive brain cells. It was okay; they had enough of that, and way too little fun.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” Arnaud murmured.

“What?” Marcus said confused.

The pink on the guy’s cheeks was turning red.

“You don’t expect me to say it, I hope,” Arnaud turned and gave Marcus the cold shoulder.

Marcus scratched his head. What could it be he had done that was pissing off the guy again?

“All right, I won’t call you sweetheart unless you beg me to,” he said.

“It’s not about that,” Arnaud replied, and remained half turned, as much as the seat allowed him to.

It was quite nice, Marcus thought. Because of his lithe frame, Arnaud had managed to turn on one side, so he was practically presenting his ass now. In his desire to show Marcus he didn’t care to look the guy in the eyes, he was actually doing him a favor.

“I bet people always love watching you go, baby,” he laughed and ignited the engine.

Arnaud turned to look at him now.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Marcus said with satisfaction.

“So you think I wasn’t worthy of my position?”

Marcus almost scratched his head again, but he needed both hands on the wheel to navigate the streets of Aeria and take them out to the main road. This guy was complicated; he could bet.

“What position?” he asked. “I bet you’re lovely in any position.”

From the corner of his eye, he could notice the man seething now.

“I have a feeling you’re trying to insult me,” Arnaud hissed.

“Insult you? I think I’ve just complimented you,” Marcus said promptly. “Although I bet it’s on your back that you like it most. Or maybe … on your fours?”

There was silence for more than two seconds, so Marcus tore his eyes from the road to look at his companion.

“Ouch!” he yelled, and almost took the wrong turn.

That slap had stung. As fragile as the man looked, he had a heavy hand. He dared to steal another glance at the guy. He had turned to look at the road ahead, and he stood stiffly in his place. But his eyes were a bit too shiny.

“Sorry about that,” Marcus said. “I’m not used to polite company.”

The man’s eyelids fluttered, but Arnaud said nothing.

“Well, see, I’m a joker,” Marcus continued, seeing that the man didn’t say anything. “Everyone knows that. My fame precedes me. Everywhere I go, people say. Hey, it’s Marcus, the joker. And seriously, they laugh.”

“Do you always talk so much?” Arnaud finally spoke.

Good. So the man wasn’t that severely pissed.

“The radio is broken,” he pointed out at the dashboard. “So I need to compensate, or else I’ll die of boredom.”

“So why don’t you fix it?” Arnaud asked again.

“One, I have no idea how. Two, I like to drive others nuts with my chatter.”

“Do you have a toolbox somewhere?”

“Why?” Marcus looked at his companion.

“So I can repair the radio.”

Arnaud’s face had a normal color now. That was good. Phew, disaster averted. Ayn was going to laugh when Marcus was going to tell him that he got slapped for being an ass. But Xav was not going to be amused, and Marcus was not crazy about how Ayn’s partner had a way of dealing with mofos. Case in hand, he was surely to tell everyone not to give Marcus a drop of booze for at least one week. And his stash at home was dwindling. Yeah, Xav was going to ride his ass hard for being disrespectful to Arnaud. Maybe he just had to keep his big mouth shut.

“Yeah, it’s in the back, somewhere,” Marcus gestured over his shoulder. “It might take you all the way to Haven to find it.”

“I will take my chances,” Arnaud said, his lips still pursed in displeasure. “I’d rather inhale dust and whatever it is in the back of this vehicle than spend hours next to you.”

“Ah, that hurt,” Marcus covered his chest with one hand. “Even worse than your slap. By the way, I think you did it too hard. It’s burning,” he rubbed his cheek.

His companion snorted.

“You deserved it.”

“Not one ounce of mercy for a man in pain,” Marcus shook his head with mirth.

“You cannot be serious. Let me see,” Arnaud spoke.

Marcus focused on the road ahead, as warm fingers touched his cheek. His hands were itching to grab that caring hand and kiss it. But he had startled the man enough for at least one day.

“Your cheek is a bit warm, but you didn’t suffer any damage.”

“Glad to hear,” Marcus inhaled the man’s sweet scent.

After so much time spent in the desert, Xav was almost as ragged as the rest of their bunch. But this beautiful man was still an aristocrat down to the tip of his fingers. Marcus was wondering what the hell he had brought in that big luggage. If it was clothes, those were not going to keep well. He needed proper clothes, leather and jeans, to face the desert. They were going to find something for him. Although, it was a bit of a loss. Marcus wanted to admire the guy in his nice clothes, and without them, of course. He bet the man had a sexy lean body, easy to make love to.

Again, he needed to pay attention. Luckily, there wasn’t much traffic between Haven and Aeria, and there were still few parts of the road in construction. So even if he wasn’t 100% focused on driving, there wasn’t much to worry about.

The man moved away from him, and seconds later, Marcus heard him fiddling in the back with whatever was there. If he had been asked, Marcus would not have been capable of giving an inventory.

“It’s good that you have two spare tires,” Arnaud spoke from the back.

“Two? Yeah, that’s good,” Marcus chuckled.

“How long since you cleaned this place?”

“Hmm, that’s not something I remember,” Marcus replied.

“Ah, found it,” Arnaud spoke, and soon, he was back, and ready to get to work.

Marcus stole glances toward the man, as Arnaud carefully took out the radio unit, and began working on it. There was a shorter strand of wavy hair coming loose off the tie at the back, and Marcus was dying to touch it.

For his safety, he decided against it. For the same reason, he kept his eyes on the road for the next hours.

***

Arnaud could feel the man’s eyes on him, heavy, like a gaze could have a physical quality. He was lucky to have something to keep his hands and mind busy. Or else, he was afraid that he was going to look up and face one of those stolen glances directed at him.

He could claim he was unaffected. But the man’s lewd comments had done more than anger him. They had reminded him of times lost long ago. Antoine, Arnaud was certain, had despised him. Of course, the slave had been flattered with the attention, and, at first, even a bit shy in matters of the bedroom. But soon enough, his cruel nature had reared its ugly head. Antoine had been hard and merciless at times, and Arnaud had taken it all. Yet, even that had always made his skin and flesh burn hot, and deep down, he had hoped the slave had feelings for him. That, he knew it, hadn’t been the truth.

He was trying to tell himself that Marcus’s words had been just as callous as Antoine’s disdainful comments. But he somehow knew it wasn’t like that. Marcus was easygoing, a bawdy character, for sure, but he wasn’t mean. Should Antoine have been still alive, he would have spat on his former Master now.

“Here,” he said, and pushed the radio back into the dashboard.

He fiddled for a while with the controls. Cheerful music filled the air. He leaned back, pleased with his work.

“That’s nice,” Marcus commented. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Arnaud could feel his lips twitching. The man knew well he was stepping on Arnaud’s nerves. But he was doing it nonetheless. And that, somehow, felt … liberating. While in Aeria, everyone had walked around him like on eggshells, trying to win him over with kindness. And Arnaud didn’t believe in kindness.

So this change of scenery was probably good. For a while, they listened to the radio and continued to cross the desert toward their destination.

***

“Hey,” someone called for him, and with difficulty, he opened his eyes.

“It appears that I’ve fallen asleep,” he apologized right away.

“That’s okay,” Marcus said joyously. “But now we really need to camp.”

“Camp? Where?” Arnaud looked out the window. They were no longer moving. “We’re in the middle of the dessert! There can be wild animals and …”

“I know the desert like the back of my hand. That’s how I know there’s a perfect spot for camping not far away from here. We’ll have fresh water and we can make a small fire.”

Arnaud felt pretty disoriented despite Marcus’s confidence in his outdoors skills.

“How are we going to sleep? Is there shelter of some kind?”

“I have two sleeping bags,” Marcus answered promptly.

“Sleeping bags!” Arnaud expressed his indignation. “Am I expected to sleep on the ground?”

“Ah, that would be too hard on your lovely bum, right?” Marcus shook his head and grinned. “Well, if you want something softer, I can offer you something else.”

Arnaud wasn’t certain he wanted to hear what the man was willing to offer. At the same time, he knew he was going to hear it, anyway.

“You can sleep on top of me,” Marcus opened his arms wide.

“That should earn you another slap,” Arnaud pointed a finger at him. “But it’s hard to slap someone properly while being seated in a vehicle, it seems.”

Marcus laughed loudly, clapping his hands.

“Then let’s get down, so you can slap me properly.”

“You think you are so clever,” Arnaud said through his teeth. “You think that I won’t do it. That I am afraid of you. I know I might not be who I was anymore, but, in Drena …”

Whistling, Marcus got out of the van, leaving Arnaud’s words in suspension and slamming the car door behind him. The nerve on the man! Arnaud could feel the tip of his ears getting warm. With a humph, he decided to get out, too.

He was seething, and lost in his own thoughts that he almost crashed into the other’s massive body.

“I was just coming to hold the door for you,” Marcus said. “Seeing your … position.”

The words were spoken casually, but Arnaud knew he was trapped between the van door he had just closed and Marcus. He could inhale the other’s smell, and, by all means, he should have felt disgusted, but there was nothing like it. The man’s scent made him want to taste, too, and that was a frightening thought. How low was he willing to go, due to his weak nature? With Antoine, at least, he had held the resemblance of power, due to his station. There was nothing like that to protect him from this man.

“Would you please step aside?”

“Why?” Marcus placed both hands above Arnaud’s head, resting them on the roof of the van.

“Because I need to take care of the …”

His throat was getting dry. He could not find his words. And Marcus wasn’t helping, but making the situation worse, as he was slowly leaning in more, until …

He pushed the guy away with all his might.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he hissed, and quickly moved away.

Anyway was safer than in this man’s close proximity. Marcus was everything he wasn’t, and he craved.

“Where is the sleeping bag I’m supposed to use?” he spoke quickly, for fear that the man might just jump him.

And he wouldn’t have the strength to say ‘no’.

“Are you going to sleep? On an empty belly?” Marcus asked. “Our friends in Aeria packed a lot of goodies for us to have.”

“I cannot believe it!” Arnaud raised both hands toward the sky.

It wasn’t night yet, but the evening was taking its rightful place, smudging the horizon with streaks of dark blue and harsh red.

“What?” Marcus asked.

“You think this is some field trip! Everybody thinks that it’s some sort of joke! Everything! Everything’s changed! That’s what happened! And I’m the only one who …”

He trailed off. He was making a fool of himself. Back in the days, his tantrums had been considered just signs of a weak personality, but the Trainers had eventually allowed him to be as he was. Maybe they had just kept him around because they had found him entertaining. But, no, the Trainers never laughed. They weren’t humans, they …

He let his arms down. Marcus was already getting busy setting up the fire, apparently not in the mood to indulge his travel companion in his endeavor of trying to make sense of this new world. The man was even humming a tune, and wasn’t paying one ounce of attention to Arnaud.

And that was making him feel slightly embarrassed. Under normal circumstances, there should have been at least two servants and one slave to fawn over him and try to appease him. Even to his eyes, his behavior now seemed childish.

Without a word, he sat by the fire, and, when Marcus offered him a plate with food, he accepted it without making a fuss.

***

Marcus had kept a straight face while looking at his traveling companion eating, for as long as he could. The man was a bit too much work if he were honest to himself. Clearly spoilt rotten, and with an attitude to go with that bad upbringing.

But definitely handy with a tool in his hand. Marcus’s radio had been dead for at least five years if he remembered correctly. Also, the former Master was beautiful like no one Marcus had ever met in his life. Of course, that was no reason to put up with the guy’s hissy fits.

For now, Marcus was willing to wait. Observing Arnaud was fun. He could tell the guy was not some innocent. When they had gotten down from the van, Marcus had almost kissed him, and Arnaud had given all the right signals, half closing his eyes, and parting his lips.

Only thinking about that was giving him a hard on. But he needed to bid his time with this skittish colt. Maybe he was ready to be mounted, maybe he wasn’t. Marcus was not some wishy-washy idiot, but he was not going to force anything on the guy, if he didn’t want it.

“Nighty-night,” he said, and made himself comfortable in his sleeping bag.

The fire was going to turn to dying embers in hours, so they had enough heat until they had to be up again.

It must have been past midnight, when Marcus felt someone shaking him.

“What?” he asked groggily.

“I think I’m hearing wild animals,” Arnaud whispered, hovering over him.

“Of course you are. We’re in the middle of the desert,” he replied, wanting nothing but to go back to sleep.

“So, are we going to let ourselves devoured by these animals?” Arnaud whispered again.

“Why are we whispering? And no. No one’s going to eat us. Just sleep,” he said.

“Hey, it’s our safety at stake,” Arnaud shook him again. “We would be safer in the van.”

Was it a good idea to tell Arnaud about the high-grade ultrasonic device Edgar had given him to keep wildlife at bay during his travels? The device was covering a good area, even if it was installed in the van. He had turned it on before starting the fire.

Nah, that was way too much fun. And it was presenting him the perfect opportunity.

“Shut up and sleep,” he said gruffly.

“I can’t! Not with all the coyotes howling in the distance!” Arnaud protested.

He pushed down the zipper on his sleeping bag.

“Come here,” he reached for Arnaud with one hand and pulled him down.

“What are you doing?” Arnaud hissed like a wildcat.

“I’m making you sleep,” Marcus said. “If it’s the only way to shut you up …”

“Shut me up?!”

Arnaud wasn’t fighting, despite his angry words. As Marcus grabbed him and placed him next to him, carefully tucking both of them in, the former Master remained silent. Damn, the man smelled like the best cookie in the universe. He was clearly a stickler for hygiene, but right now, he was sweating, probably in fear.

Marcus hummed contently, and stuck his nose into the back of the guy’s neck. Arnaud was scared, but his breathing was slowly turning to normal. That was good. Marcus threw one hand over him and pulled him closer.

He was expecting some protests. But instead, the guy pushed himself back, adjusting his position. And that was a big frigging problem. Because the guy’s lovely bum was now pressing directly on his crotch. Damn, keeping the one eyed monster down was going to be an issue, given the circumstances.

“Don’t even think about it,” Arnaud spoke, but he pressed his arm over Marcus’s, and tangled them together.

“That’s kind of hard,” Marcus complained, pleased with his pun.

Arnaud shifted, making Marcus grunt. All right, Arnaud was going to sleep with a big cock pressed against his ass.

“Are you that easy?” Arnaud mumbled.

“Except from my trustful right hand, and a somewhat friendly drinking buddy I met two weeks ago, I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell lately,” Marcus confessed.

“For the record, this happens only because if we get pounced by wild animals, I hope that they’ll eat you first,” Arnaud said. “And if you cannot help it … well, I can live with it.”

Marcus was fighting hard not to laugh and smooch the guy. He had been expecting so much opposition. Yet, despite how much the guy was running his mouth, he was easy to take. But Marcus was going to move slowly, and not scare the guy. The pert buttocks slightly rubbing against his cock were definitely worth it. Both of them.

***

He had slept like a log, even with the coyotes howling in the distance. In the morning, he slid slowly from the other man’s embrace, and met the dessert dawn with fresh eyes. By the itinerary the man had given him the prior evening, in a few hours, they were going to be in Haven.

Where he was going to meet Xavier, and his new destiny, whatever that was. He stole a glance toward the still sleeping giant. It had felt good to sleep in the guy’s arms. Of course, he was trying to tell himself that desperate times called for desperate measures, but that was not the truth.

The truth was that, for those hours, in the dead of night, in that unfriendly environment, sleeping on the ground, he had felt protected. The man’s body heat had lulled him into sleep, and now he was well rested as he could not remember to have ever been before. With all the comfort and luxury that had surrounded him in Drena, he had rarely felt safe there.

To took one bottle of water and proceeded to wash his face. Methodically, he continued his grooming, ending with his hair, which he needed to comb extensively so that it didn’t become all tangled and messy. It was a habit he had had to pick up as there was no servant for him to comb his hair every day.

He turned to see Marcus getting up.

“’morning,” the man waved at him.

From the corner of his eye, he observed the man taking care of himself. Unlike him, Marcus shed his shirt completely and proceeded to wash his torso and face in the small pond nearby.

Arnaud was curious. Unlike the slaves he had kept, Marcus had his back and arms marked by scars and old wounds here and there. His dark tan was uneven, but nonetheless, strong muscles rippled under the skin, as the man moved with the confidence and grace of a wild animal.

“Do you like what you see?” Marcus turned toward him, flashing a big grin.

“How old are you?” Arnaud found himself speaking.

“Not sure,” Marcus shrugged. “The people who found me and took me to Haven weren’t sure, either. I might have been four years old, or seven. So, now, some say I’m 34. Others go for 37. I’ve always been a big guy,” the man opened his arms to prove his point.

“Where did they find you?”

“Somewhere around this desert,” Marcus gestured widely. “The caravan I was with got attacked or something. The raiders had killed everyone, but, somehow, I was a lucky bastard. So others who were scavenging around returned to their home with a bouncing baby boy,” he laughed.

Arnaud was astonished to hear all that. It seemed unfathomable, whatever Marcus was saying.

“Why are you all scarred like that?”

Marcus grinned, his white teeth a contrast against the dark face.

“Plenty of battles. I have a pretty good winning streak, but not all my victories have been easy.”

“And Xavier thinks the lot of you can be civilized,” Arnaud pursed his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re ready to abandon a life of crime to tend the fields.”

“The fields?” Marcus snorted. “No such thing in the desert, sweetheart. And that life of crime you’re speaking about? I didn’t choose it. It chose me.”

Arnaud looked the other way, annoyed. He knew he was rude to talk to Marcus like that. But he needed to put a distance between them after the intimacy from the previous night.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He almost jumped. He hadn’t heard or sensed the man getting close to him. Dark eyes were staring him down from above, and he gulped loudly. It didn’t help that the man didn’t care about putting his shirt back on. His dark skin was glistening with droplets of water.

“Ayn told me you’d be a piece of work. So I’m not surprised,” Marcus spoke. “But, sweetheart, you better open those big brown eyes wide open, because you’re no longer in fairyland. You’ll have to work your butt off to keep a place in this world. Nothing is handed down to anyone on a silver platter around here.”

Arnaud took a few steps back, to escape the man’s hypnotizing gaze.

“Handed down? You have no idea!” he exclaimed. “I worked hard to get where I was,” he pointed at himself, trembling with self-entitled rage. “So much knowledge, so many things, crammed into my brain, since I was five! And never a moment without something to do or learn! Walk like this, sit like this, don’t laugh, don’t cry, don’t look up, or don’t look down!”

Marcus’s grin became lopsided.

“That’s some shitty childhood,” the man scratched his head, a gesture Arnaud noticed as being the man’s way to deal with things he couldn’t understand. “So, you didn’t have that much fun, huh?”

“Fun?” Arnaud asked, as if he couldn’t understand the word.

He was still shaking a little.

“Yeah,” Marcus confirmed. “That’s okay. Where we go, we’ll have plenty of fun.”

“I don’t see how I’m going to have fun,” Arnaud crossed his arms over his chest.

In two large steps, Marcus was right in front of him.

“Like this,” he said, and, before Arnaud could protest, the man cupped his jaw and guided his lips into a kiss.

It ended quickly, nonetheless. Arnaud could hear himself breathing hard when the man stopped. The dark eyes were scouting his, for signs of weakness, certainly. But he could not tear his eyes away and he stood there, looking at the other, getting lost into that gaze drawing him in.

“You’ll see,” Marcus took him by the shoulders to guide him toward the van. “You already know me there, and I’m known as the fun guy everywhere I go.”

“I thought you were the joker,” Arnaud mumbled, still finding it hard to wrap his head around the kiss from earlier.

“I’m a multi-tasker,” Marcus laughed.

He was helped into his seat, and when Marcus came to take his place behind the wheel, some minutes later, the man had the shirt and leather jacket back on.

“Don’t we have to gather our things?” he asked.

“I took care of everything while you sat here, pouting. I stripped some to the roof, and left behind some things. Other travelers might find them useful. We’re only hours away from Haven, so no reason for us to carry everything with us.”

“All right,” he mumbled.

For the remainder of their journey, Arnaud spent his time watching the never ending desert through the window. Marcus was silent, too, so it was good that they had the radio. All he could think about was the kiss and what it meant. Probably nothing.

~End of excerpt

All my patrons can read this full 25k word extra story.

https://www.patreon.com/laurasfox

#a good servant #my original fiction #Patreon Exclusive #a good servant bonus story #laurasfox

[argylemikewheeler]

BRO HAVE I GOT A PROMPT FOR YOU, BECAUSE I SAW YOUR AMAZINGN POST AND IM HAVING A MOMENT billy meets will and the entire party just goes off and protects him and our badass boy will is awesome and the hero we all need

+ Will has powers (put Byler somewhere). also? i love Will with powers.

Friday after school, Max promised Will she’d teach him how to skateboard in the parking lot. Everyone watched and waited by the bike rack, Max trying to explain the basics to Will without letting him place a single foot on the skateboard. Will listened intently, nodding his head and trying to copy Max’s footing on the asphalt before placing himself on the board.

“Please be careful.” Mike gasped, placing a hand over his mouth. Will tripped over his shoelaces the week prior taking a walk with Mike on Mirkwood and Mike nearly had a heart attack at the amount of blood Will’s knees could spill. If it hadn’t been for Will’s stubborn attitude, Mike would have carried him home.

“I will.” Will laughed, placing a delicate foot on the skateboard. One foot, and he was still steady. As he planted the second, he immediately began leaning back, the board getting away from him. The group jumped forward, Lucas nearly skidding under him to break his fall, when Will stopped moving, held mid-air. “El, I’m fine! You don’t have to babysit me!”

“Okay.” She said, blinking and rolling her eyes. Mike thanked her quietly before sitting down next to her along the school wall. She gripped her hands in her lap, but still kept her eyes focused on Will as he flitted around the lot. Mike watched as well, twisting his hands and trying to not follow him around with his arms out.

“What time is it?” Dustin asked, leaning his head against the wall. “I have to be home by four.”

Eleven checked her watch, holding it out in front of Dustin’s eyes, nearly hitting his face. “Not.”

“Three-fifteen. Cool.” Dustin pushed her arm back.

“Three-fifteen?” Max echoed, turning her head to stare at Dustin. “Already?” She took her eyes off Will and he began wobbling. “No. Your watch must be fast.”

“I’ve got three-fifteen too.” Lucas said, holding it out for her. “Mike?”

“Yup.” Mike said. “What’s wrong?”

“My brother is supposed to be here.” Max said, scrambling to grab her bag. “I have to–”

“Ow!” The group whipped their heads to see Will on the ground, skateboard rolling away from him. The board came under the booted foot of Max’s brother, driver side door open directly over Will. Will cradled his head and rolled onto his side.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Max said, swinging her bag over her shoulder and taking off running. “Everyone stay here.”

“No. I’m not leaving you with him.” Lucas argued, following her closely. He reached behind him to dig through his bag, searching for his wrist rocket.

“Is he okay?” Mike fretted, getting to his feet and running after him.

“Move.” Eleven said, waving her friends out of her way as she walked towards Billy, head lowering and hand raising.

“No! Don’t!” Dustin cried. “You can’t do anything too crazy right now. You’re still hiding, El.” He grabbed her arms and yanked them to her sides. She sighed and rolled her eyes, slowly nodding and understanding the danger.

“Will! Will, are you okay?” Mike tried to reach Will but Billy stuck a hand out and shoved Mike into Dustin.

“These your friends?” He said to Max. “You guys hang out with this bitch?”

“Leave her alone.” Lucas said firmly, pulling his wrist rocket string back.

“Oh, we’ve got some toy soldiers here today, fellas.” There was no one else there, but Mike already felt like they were outnumbered. “Let’s see who gets sent home first.”

“What is your goddamn problem!” Max cried, throwing her bag at the car. “Will, are you okay?” She reached out and pulled Will to his feet, walking him over to Mike and Eleven. Eleven still had her eyes fixed on Billy, but wrapped an arm around Will’s shoulders and pulled him close to her.

“I’m fine.” Will said, smoothing his shirt down. “I’m okay.”

“Already running from the fight? How did you survive the woods again?” Billy chuckled, situating his feet far apart and resting a hand in his pocket while the other clamped two fingers around a cigarette. “Why didn’t they just let you die?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth.” Mike said, glaring at Billy. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He placed a hand on Will’s shoulder, keeping him still as he slowly turned towards Max’s brother.

“Mike, don’t. It’s okay.” Will pleaded, gripping his hand and pulling him back. “I’m fine.”

“Right between the eyes, Lucas.” Mike said lowly, pointing his hand at Billy. He laughed openly and flicked his cigarette butt at Mike, the embers fizzling out at their feet. Will watched it come at them, pulling Mike by the waist to avoid the burn.

“Guys, it’s not worth it. Go home.” Max said, starting to march the group back towards the school. She seemed to forget she had to get in the car.

“Run, bitch. Run.” Billy rolled his tongue along his bottom teeth, watching them rush away from him as if his long sigh was blowing them towards the school. They all raced away, Mike’s hand gripping Will’s arm tightly. Dustin was at the front door, holding it open for the group, and Eleven stomping besides them all, still craning her neck to stare at Billy. He was laughing, calling after his sister and spitting words after them. Will felt his feet dig into the ground and his arm slip out of Mike’s grip.

“Will? Will, come on.” Mike said, reaching for his hand.

“No.” Will said slowly, turning to face Billy. “No. No, I can’t let him talk about her like that.”

“Will, please don’t.” Mike pleaded, reaching for him again. “Please, he’ll hurt you.” Mike could see Billy’s face twisting into a smile as Will faced him, about to continue the fight.

“Byers! What are you doing!” Max yelled, watching him step towards Billy. “Byers!”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Will said, inching towards Billy. “She’s our friend.”

“Well, guess what princess, she’s not mine.” Billy laughed, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket. “Fuck off.” He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and held it up to the end of his cigarette.

“No.” Will’s arm swung out and the flame flickered down to a puff of smoke. “You take it back.” Mike winced as Will moved. Beside him, Eleven froze, watching Will with eyes that grew wider the closer Will got to Billy.

Mike reached out to stop him but Eleven shook her head. “He’s fine.” She said quietly. “Will’s fine.” She sounded uncertain and surprised.

“Apologize to her. Now.” Will cried, waving another hand outward and Billy’s lighter following suit. It clanked against the asphalt, every set of eyes following it. “NOW!”

“What the fuck are you.” Billy said lowly, advancing from his car. His boots thudded against the ground, advancing towards Will in a standoff. “Since when do faggots fight?”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Mike cut in, stepping up besides Will. He had no means to fight, but now had a fire flaring in his chest as he watched Billy laugh at Will.

“It’s okay, Mike.” Will said, turning to him. He placed a hand on Mike’s arm. The touch sent shivers through his arm; it felt strong, but his fingers never gripped tighter than he would around a flower. “I can do this.”

“Do what?” Mike asked, shaking his head. Will couldn’t fight. Mike knew it and knew it from a sincere and loving place in his heart. Will couldn’t do what he had heard and seen Steve do. There was just no way– and no way Will thought he could either. “Will? Will!”

Will started walking towards Billy. Mike was sure he had smashed his head against the pavement when Billy pushed him; he had to be hallucinating. Will was walking so surely towards a boy with a rumbling car, a fiery look in his eyes, and a tight grip pulsing his knuckles closed.

“Oh, this is gonna be good. This is going to be so good.” His arm tilted back, elbow bent and wrist set straight.

“Will, please don’t, Will. Oh my god, Will. Stop.” Mike pleaded.

“Don’t hurt me or my friends ever again.” Will spoke as if to a teacher, firm, but polite and still phrasing it as if it was a request. “Leave us alone.”

“You think I’m scared of you?” He kept his arm cocked, still walking towards him in a strange bow-legged fashion. Will cocked his head in confusion. His eyes left Billy, looking at the space between them, allowing himself to face only his thoughts. Will lifted a hand, looking at his palm, and left the whole group frozen; he was going to get himself killed. “You think I’m scared of you– a puny, shrunken, tiny, infantile–”

“Yes.” Will said, throwing his hand out towards Billy. As if in a gust of wind, Billy flew back into his car. His head slammed against the car frame and his back bowed backwards into the empty driver’s seat.

“What the–”

“Eleven! I said not to do anything!” Dustin hushed, staring at her with wide eyes.

“I–I didn’t. I didn’t do that!” She insisted, shaking her head and holding her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t.”

“Will did.” Mike said slowly. “Will did it.”

“What?” Max stepped up to Will, standing in his line of vision with Billy groaning behind her. “Did you do that?”

“Yeah.” Will sounded breathless, although his chest wasn’t heaving trying to catch his breath. A single stream of blood ran down from his nose. “I could do it.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you.” Mike said quietly, taking the hand still raised as a threat to Billy and squeezing it in his own. Will’s hands were shaking, but Mike was sure there were no powers involved in that. He held Will’s hand tightly in both of his hands, and pressed it against his chest as he walked Will back towards the school. They ignored the winded and moaning teenager trying to call after them.

“El, would you please?” Will said, stepping in time with Mike.

“Yes.” She said, lowering her head again. “Mouthbreather.”

They heard Billy’s car door slam and the engine turn off as Mike and Will walked through the school doors, Dustin directly behind them.

“How long have you been able to do that?” Dustin cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “That was incredible!”

“I–I don’t know. I just kind of… felt it.” Will shrugged, flexing his fingers in Mike’s grip. Mike squeezed tighter. “I just thought of it. I could see it happening– so then I made it happen. I wasn’t going to do anything at first.” Will closed his eyes tightly, his voice dropping off. “But then I just… I got so angry. I felt it everywhere. Everywhere. I knew I could do it. I knew it. I knew I could fight back.” He smiled at Mike, proud of himself.

“And that’s incredible.” Mike whispered, taking Will’s other hand. “But don’t go into a fight unless you know you have superpowers. Okay?” He nodded, biting his lip.

“Between you and El, we are definitely going to get arrested.” Dustin muttered, lifting his cap to run a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.”

“Our dad is the Chief of Police.” Will said, looking at Dustin with a smirk. “We’re fine.”

ao3

#byeler #byler #will byers with powers #will byers x mike wheeler #stranger things writing #prompts

[mad-ramblings]

The Weather Outside

A/n: 22/31 (Almost there!!!) Interesting fact, when I was writing this I figured out that Star Trek follows the Naval ranking system. Everybody and their mother probably knows that, but still. Anyway, enjoy!

Pairing: Montgomery “Scotty” Scott x reader

Warning: Cursing

Word Count: 1670

For some reason, Scotty had been chosen to go on an away mission. Something about a ship crash landing on the planet a few years ago made them chose the Scotsman. They were hoping that he could fix it and get it off the planet before it did any long term damage to the planet’s ecosystem. He was told to bring one more member from engineering on his trip planetside and after thinking about it for a long few seconds, he chose lieutenant commander (Y/l/n).

(Y/n) (Y/l/n) was an ensign when the Enterprise started on its expedition. In only a year or so, she shot up the ranks all the way to lieutenant commander. Scotty was thoroughly impressed with her work and if was to be completely honest, with herself too. He found her vast knowledge about anything and everything engineering attractive. He could just talk to her for hours about advancements in ship parts and anything really.

He sent a message to her, requesting her prescens down in his office. There was a knock on his door and as soon as he told them to come in he heard her voice, always formal, “Captain Scott.” He looked up from his desk, seeing (Y/n) giving him her ever so proper Starfleet salute.

“At ease, and how many times do I have to tell you,” he stood up, giving her a smile, “you can call me Scotty, (Y/n). Everybody else does.” He motioned for her to come in and have a seat as he moved to lean against the front of his desk.

She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “Sorry Cap-” she caught and corrected herself, “Scotty. I just, I always use proper protocol when I’m nervous.” He gave her an inquisitive look. “You didn’t specify why you wanted to talk to me. You just said, ‘Meet me in my office. Important information to discuss.’ I didn’t know if we were going to talk about the new tools we got in the last cargo ship, a task you wanted me to do, if I was getting reassigned-”

“Reassigned?” He interrupted her. “Why would you even think that? You were an ensign when we started and now you’re a lieutenant commander, the youngest one on board at that. I would never allow you to be reassigned.” He watched her as a blush started to spread across her cheeks and then felt a blush of his own start to creep up his face. Was that too much of him to say? He cleared his throat before continuing. “What I wanted to talk to you about is that I was told to pick one of my staff to go with me planetside for a mission. I chose you. So, do you accept?”

Her eyes were wide as she nodded her head. “Yes. Yes, sir!”

A week later Scotty and his team were planet-side. They had been told that the planet had odd weather patterns, but nobody expected this. One moment it was a bright and balmy twenty degrees, the sun shining through the trees, then the next they were caught in a blizzard.

“We need to find shelter from the storm!” Burzom, one of the medics sent down with them, shouted out. “They said that there were plenty of caves around here. Let’s try and find one.” Everybody started to scan for caves or a similar shelter.

Scotty called out to everybody. “Try to stay close. We don’t want to lose anyone. Especially with these weather patterns.” After he said this, (Y/n) moved up closer to him, moving their arm forward as if to link their arms.

“It might help if we stayed in groups.” She suggested. “There are six of us. Could do two of three.” She quickly glanced down at her all weather boots. “Or three of two. I know that most of us have a basic knowledge of first aid so three of two could work just fine. You know, if something were to happen.”

He looked around a noticed that despite his warning to stay close, the snow was making it hard for everyone to stay in one group. He flipped out a communicator and started to speak to everybody. “Everybody pick somebody and stick with them. From the way that things look, this storm is letting up soon and we might get seperated. Go and find shelter and then meet back up at the rendezvous point once the weather clears.” Various affirmative answers came through one after the other, agreeing to his plan. “Well, you’re already right here, so let’s go find one of those caves before we freeze to death.”

(Y/n)  nodded her head and the both of them started to head in the direction their scanners were taking them. They trudged through the snow for awhile, the trees getting closer and closer together as they headed towards their destination. All of the sudden, Scotty caught his foot on something underneath the snow. He fell down into the snow, but not before feeling a sickening pop come from his knee.

“Fuck! Oh Jesus fucking Christ that hurt!” He kept cursing as (Y/n) rushed down to his side. She started to dig around his leg and saw that the toe of his boot was stuck underneath a root of a nearby tree.

She got him to sit up before speaking to him. “Scotty, your foot is caught on a root. You’re going to have to stand up so that we can get it all the way out.” She looked around and saw the cave they were looking for only a few more meters away. “The cave is about nine meters to our right so I can do something about your knee when we get there, alright?” He nodded his head, still hissing and cursing in pain. (Y/n) helped him stand and carefully removed his foot from the root. The two of them make their way to the cave, Scotty leaning heavily on (Y/n) as they walked. As they entered the cave, she helped Scotty back down and took his pack, placing it under his knee. “I’m going to look around see if there’s any dry wood, alright?” He nodded his head and watched as she went off. She came back a few moments later with only a small handful of what can only be called twigs. After getting a meger fire started, (Y/n) kneeled down beside Scotty and started to inspect his knee.

She prodded at his knee, it looking swollen and the skin started to bruise. Scotty hissed out in pain when she touched a particularly tender spot. “Christ lass! Could you be more careful?”

“I barely touched you, Scotty.” (Y/n) looked over his knee again. “Did you feel anything snap or pop?” He explained that he did feel something pop before he landed in the snow. “A pop?” She grimaced. “I think you dislocated it. I can set it back, but it would be painful.”

“At this point, it’s our best option.” His hand rubbed over his face. “Can’t complete the mission with a bum leg.”

She looked at him and gently placed her hands on the sides of his knee. “Now this is going to hurt, so I’m going to try and distract you with talking alright?”

Scotty groaned. “(Y/n) just get it over with would-” She snapped his knee back into place. “Oh fuck! Fucking hell, Jesus Christ (Y/n)! I thought that you said-” He was silenced by a pair of lips hastily pressed onto his with a pair of hands cradling his face. He was caught off guard and it took him a moment to process what was happening. (Y/n) was kissing him, actually kissing him! Her hands started to slip into his hair, pulling him closer. He had just started to kiss her back when she pulled away, breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry Captain.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I-I don’t know what came over me.” He tried to get her to look at him but she was now too far away from him to reach out to her. “I completely understand if you want to transfer me off ship now.”

Scotty lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer to him. “(Y/n), just stop. Now, as your commanding officer I want you to answer this question honestly.” He held her hand and started rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “Did that kiss mean anything?” She still wouldn’t look him in the eye. With his other hand he gently grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “Answer me lieutenant commander.”

She visibly swallowed and shyed back for a moment. He was about to take her silence as an answer, but she surged forward with a burst of courage and captured his lips again. This kiss was softer, sweeter, less rushed. Scotty placed a hand on the back of her neck and drew her in closer, her hands finding a resting place on his shoulders. The both of them pulled away, foreheads resting against each other. “Does that answer your question?”

“Aye, it does.” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. All of the sudden, there was a deafening crack outside the cave. The both of them jumped and looked out towards the entrance. They saw a tree fall to the ground, snow puffing up around it. “The weather outside is frightful!” He turned back to (Y/n) and pulled her close to him. “But I have something right here to keep me warm. A little flame, and that puny little thing right there.” He pointed at the small fire that she had started earlier that was still flickering.

(Y/n) blushed and laughed at his flirtation. “Well it looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.” She snuggled into his chest. “I’m just glad it’s with you.

“Me too lass. Me too.”

#scotty x reader #star trek imagine

[audreycritter]

Hullo there, Bruce & Jason family bonding. A fic request response for @mylittleangelxxx​ set in Cor Et Cerebrum continuity. 

Gen Rated T for language

The leaves from the puny, withered decorative landscaping tree in the crumbling plaza are tinged red with early autumn. The cracked parking lot with faded yellow lines is not the sort of place one might expect to find Bruce Wayne on a Tuesday afternoon, but he is there nevertheless, sitting in a nondescript car chosen for the occasion, waiting.

After five minutes pass, the low roar of a motorcycle engine grows closer. A figure in a full mask helmet takes a swooping right into the plaza and pulls up next to the car, almost too close to the driver door. The bike shuts off and Jason Todd takes his helmet off and hangs it on the handlebars.

He's parked so close that Bruce can barely open his door enough to climb out. He frowns at the bike and twists sideways to fit through the narrow opening. Jason makes no effort to move the motorcycle but grins crookedly at him.

“Hiya, Dad,” he says, and Bruce almost shuts the corner of his jacket in the door when he starts.

“You do that on purpose,” he says, only mildly irritated and mostly, secretly, pleased. He means, vaguely, Jason’s tendency to only pull out the familial name when he's either genuinely distressed or hopes to startle or otherwise jolt Bruce.

“What?” Jason asks, a hand over his chest. “‘Me? Call you father? The nerve.”

Despite the offended tone, Bruce is relieved that Jason seems to be in a good mood. He's been the most temperamental of their patchwork family unit for some time, but the past year has had the lemons-and-sugar effect of drawing the kid closer to family and rattling him physically and emotionally all at the same time.

As if Jay, of all people, needed more of that.

Instead of answering Jason’s mock outrage, Bruce tousles the boy’s hair hard enough to make him duck his head and swat at the side of Bruce’s face in retaliation. The blow cuffs Bruce’s cheekbone and even Jason looks surprised at how solidly it landed.

“Ow,” Bruce says, putting a hand to his face. “I probably deserved that.”

“You crybaby,” Jason shoots back, heading across the lot for the small store that is their intended destination. “It was frickin’ nothing,” he calls out behind him.

Bruce follows and quickens his pace to be walking alongside Jason, whose shoulders are hunched while his hands are jammed into his pockets.

“Jay,” Bruce says, as they step up on the curb in tandem. “Don't worry about it.”

Something in Bruce’s tone must convince Jason, because instead of tightening toward explosion, the young man visibly relaxes. The door bell chimes as Bruce pulls on the metal handle and they go from the bright autumn light into the dim interior.

The inside of the musty, crowded shop smells of ink and old paper and Bruce inhales deeply. Jason has pulled his hands out of his pockets and is already picking up clothbound books on the new arrivals shelf, turning them over as he studies the spines.

“Hullo,” a voice calls from the back of the bookstore. “Be right with you!”

The towering wooden and metal shelves are so closely spaced, it’s hard to see very far from the front counter. The shelving doesn’t match and Bruce has always guessed it was picked up piecemeal from library auctions, but he isn’t certain. The layout of the store is older than him, by maybe a decade or more.

Jason’s already tucked a book under his arm before turning for the taller stacks. Bruce catches a glimpse of it as he walks by-- it’s a worn Tom Swift.

“Are we looking for something?” Jason asks, scanning the shelves. They’re a mix in this aisle of more recent used books, none older than twenty or thirty years. Some of them have intact dustjackets with faded or folded edges.

“I haven’t stopped by in a while,” Bruce says, crouching in the narrow space to study a shelf of densely packed paperbacks. He makes a quick study of the vertical names, searching for Allingham or Sayers or anything missing from Alfred’s worn collection.

“You needed a babysitter?” Jason asks, amused, without looking down. There’s a tenseness in his voice when Bruce stands and Jason glances over, doing a single sweep with his eyes of the fluid motion. “You’re not nursing broken ribs or a fucking concussion, are you?”

“No,” Bruce says, letting the slight sting of the assumption wash over him and choosing to let it fade away. “Just thought you’d enjoy it. It’s been a busy few weeks.”

“Frick, but it has,” Jason sighs, pulling a book out to look at the cover. He makes a face and nods to it.

Bruce looks. It’s a painting of a vampire in a black cape with shining silver teeth, embracing a woman with blonde, curling locks and a sheathed knife strapped to her bare back.

“It’s you and Selina,” Jason says with a smirk, sliding the book back.

“Stop,” Bruce says, attempting sternness but failing miserably to his own ears. “Selina would never carry a dagger that impractical.”

In response, Jason snorts and then takes the book all the way off the shelf and holds it against his side along with the Tom Swift volume.

“I think I need this one,” he says, turning the corner around the aisle.

“Sorry about that,” the voice from the back of the store says, drawing close to them. “Was in the middle of glueing a spine.”

An elderly man with a stooped back emerges from a back room, just at the corner they’re approaching. There’s a flicker of recognition and then he smiles warmly.

“Mr. Wayne!” he exclaims. “I was starting to get worried I’d lost my bread and butter.”

“We’ve been busy, Mr. Murphy,” Bruce says easily and Jason gives a slight wave and resumes looking over a high row of much older books, with maroon or mustard or navy cloth bindings and embossed titles and curved spines. “We were overdue for a visit.”

“I’d say,” Murphy agrees. “And this boy of yours. I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

“I’ve been out of town,” Jason says, tearing his eyes away from the shelf. Bruce can’t tell if the older man’s attention is making Jason feel welcome or uneasy, the boy’s face is so impassive.

“Ah, well,” Murphy gestures a ‘what-can-you-do’ with his hands. “I have some things I’ve been waiting to show you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Lead the way,” Bruce agrees amiably, letting himself be drawn away from the $1 and $2 volumes lining the shelves of the aisle they’re in. They approach the front again, drawing close to the glass case near the register. Jason trails after them and then joins Bruce in leaning over the glass.

Murphy pulls a small keyring out of his pocket and unlocks the case from behind.

“This, this one I got from a German fellow,” he says, reverently lifting a gray and tan book. “Goethe’s Faust, a Harrap printing for London. One of a thousand in the first run.” He opens the book and holds the pages spread for them and Bruce scans the German verse without touching the book.

“Faust creeps me out,” Jason says, with clear admiration in his eyes.

“You prefer Marlowe?” Murphy asks, raising an eyebrow.

“If you sell your soul to the devil, doesn’t matter if it’s in English or German,” Jason says.

“Eh,” Murphy says. “Probably true.”

“I’ll take it,” Bruce says, eyeing Jason sidelong. The younger man, for all his protests, still hasn’t taken his gaze off the dark lines of text. “What else do you have?”

“You don’t have a Faust?” Jason asks, finally looking away as Murphy closes the book and sets it aside. “No. I know you have a Faust. At least four, actually. I remember moving them.”

“And now you do,” Bruce says casually, turning his attention back to the contents of the case.

Beside him, Jason freezes and makes a small noise of protest.

“You’re not going to buy me a ton of shit,” Jason says. Bruce thinks he sounds more pleased than annoyed.

“No,” Bruce agrees. “Which is why I had to get that one in before you were on your guard. Help me find something for Damian.”

“Is that a Narnia set?” Jason asks, peering down, distracted.

“It is,” Murphy agrees. “First American printing. Got it just yesterday, actually. Condition isn’t great but it’s not bad, either. Wanna see it?”

“Yes,” Jason says quickly.

“For Damian?” Bruce asks, guessing this to not be the case for a reason he can’t quite put his finger on. For knowing himself to be an intelligent man, it irritates him how often he feels dense.

“Damian doesn’t like Narnia,” Jason says, taking the offered box set in his hands and looking it over. Apparently, Murphy is unbothered by either of them holding these without a commitment. Or maybe he’s already assumed the sale from Jason’s initial reaction.

“He doesn’t?” Bruce asks. It doesn’t especially surprise him that his youngest isn’t as enraptured by fantasy, but he’s curious about Jason knowing this.

“The Calormen,” Jason says, looking up at Bruce with a crease of his brow.

“Oh,” Bruce says, understanding slamming into him like a careening steam engine. If he’d had a vague sense of feeling dense before, it fully floods him now. “Hm.”

If Murphy is intrigued by this exchange, he doesn’t show it or ask questions. He never has. Bruce isn’t even entirely sure the man is aware that Jason died or if his easy acceptance of Jason’s return is wrapped up in a mute, elderly wisdom of the contradictions of Gotham, even out here in the limping suburbs.

“I’ll take ‘em,” Jason says, surrendering them reluctantly.

Bruce considers, very briefly, telling Murphy to add them to his own tab, but suspects if he does so, Jason won’t show obvious interest in anything else. He decides to just keep track of how much Jason spends and then let Alfred sort it out somehow.

“I’m guessing this is a duplicate for you, too,” Murphy says, with an understanding smile.

“Yeah, you know,” Jason shrugs. “Might have kids someday. Gotta stock up.”

Bruce pretends to be engrossed in a bookbinding, partly so Jason doesn’t see his reaction to this casual statement and partly because he can’t actually figure out quite how he feels about it to hide it very well.

With a casual observer, he might actually be successful, but Jason nudges him in the side with an elbow when Murphy turns to wrap the set in brown paper.

“Oh, shoot,” Murphy says. “I've left the tape in the other room. I'll be right back.”

He leaves the counter, seemingly unworried about leaving them with the open case.

“Don't panic, old timer,” Jason says. “Dickie and I have a pact not to have any until we're sure you're done taking in strays. The family can only handle so much drama.”

“I'm done,” Bruce says resolutely. “And I don't take in strays. You aren't cats.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Jason says smugly. “I'm waiting til Damian hits sixteen, just in case. It seems to be the cut-off. I'm not in a hurry.”

Despite his outward irritation, the slight glare he turns on his second son, something in Bruce is deeply relieved to hear Jason talk so openly and calmly about his younger siblings. It soothes concerns that Jason, even now, regards their presence as a kind of insult or intrusion.

“Alfred would throw me out of the house,” Bruce says mildly, instead of arguing.

“You could come stay with me,” Jason grins. “It'll be fun. Me, you, a salty teenager, a tiny apartment. Maybe we can get that reality show your PR guy keeps trying to talk you into.”

Bruce chuckles and asks, “Tim?”

“He thought you were considering it, you know,” Jason says. “He called me in a hot panic.”

“What'd you say?” Bruce asks, thinking suddenly of Tim and the fact that he should take the kid out for coffee or something soon.

“I told him it's be good acting practice,” Jason says. “That you sounded excited and we shouldn't take it from you. And that I was going back to stay with the Kents.”

“Jay,” Bruce says, trying to muster the ire to sound reproving.

“B?” Jason asks. Their eyes meet, Jason’s glinting with amusement that Bruce finds himself unable to not match. After a second, something in Jason’s expression shifts, his features more solemn though not troubled. “Shit,” he says plainly. “I've missed you.”

When Jason ducks his head, Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

“It's been too quiet without you,” Bruce says. “You sure about staying in Gotham this year, though? Clark said Martha already thinks the house feels too empty.”

Jason nods and leans closer to a book.

“Yeah,” he says. “I already got stuff set up at Gotham U. It's time to just fricking get over it and be home. Damian would like that.”

It takes Bruce a moment to realize the last sentence was directed toward the book, and not connected to sentiments about Jason’s physical location.

“What is it?” he asks, twisting his neck trying to make out the faint title.

“Want to see another one? Ah, yes. The Histories.” Murphy asks, returning with an old tape dispenser. When he sets it on the counter, Bruce can hear the sand inside the false wood veneer shifting and settling. “I wasn't joking, you know. Not to pressure you, but I live for a month on your visits.”

“You're just appealing to my sense of pity,” Bruce accuses with a slight smile.

“I own a stinking used book store in a dying plaza,” Murphy says. “Rent is cheap but ebooks are cheaper. I'm not above honest begging to support my paper habit. Can't say no to a pretty book.”

“We are cut from the same cloth,” Jason says a little forlornly. “You want my advice?”

Murphy’s lips twitch, as if he's prepared to be amused, and he lifts the book out without them needing to specify.

“What's your advice, young Xenophon?”

“Find a rich guy to adopt you,” Jason says glibly, carefully holding the book and then handing it to Bruce.

Bruce intentionally and with some effort keeps his face carefully neutral.

“Huh,” Murphy says. “You in the market, Mr. Wayne? Don't know anybody else anymore.”

“No,” Bruce says, “but I'll take the Herodotus.”

“Give him three years,” Jason advises.

“I think we're done,” Bruce says and Jason sets the Tom Swift and paranormal romance on the counter. “Unless you wanted to browse some more.”

“Nah,” Jason says. “I gotta go get my rat from Dev before he gets too attached.”

Murphy begins ringing up the purchases and he pauses when he reaches for the Tom Swift.

“Separate bills?” he asks.

“Hell, no,” Jason says. “I'm broke.”

Bruce’s heart warms a little at this allowance, knowing that Jason both has money and is letting this one fall to Bruce on purpose.

“How long has Dev had the rat?” he asks, pulling out his wallet.

“Since last Thanksgiving,” Jason says.

“Jay,” Bruce says with a crooked smile, “I don't think it's your rat anymore.”

“Come help me liberate him,” Jason invites, a little pleading. “I can't face Dev crying all by myself.”

Murphy’s demeanor betrays no emotion besides mild good humor as he swipes Bruce’s card for the few-thousand dollar charge. Most of it is the Faust.

“I don't even like the rat,” Bruce says. “I told Cass it was a bad idea the first day.”

“Cass didn't listen to you about something?” Jason exclaims, taking the offered brown bag from Murphy. He staggers back in exaggerated and false shock. “The perfect child ignored your fricking wishes? Yours?”

“It is the only mark ever against her,” Bruce says dryly. “Thank you, Mr. Murphy.”

“Come back again,” Murphy says. “Soon.”

Jason nods and they step out of the shop together.

“How are you getting the rat home on a motorcycle?” Bruce asks, unlocking his car. Jason had paused to take the book for Damian out of the bag and he freezes, suddenly, and gives the motorcycle an angry look.

“I don't know,” he says stiffly.

“I'll give you a ride,” Bruce says. “We can swing back for the bike later.”

He waits a moment to see if Jason will argue or resist, either for actual reasons or just to be contrary.

“You sure?” Jason says instead, one hand on the passenger door. “I mean, jiminy cricket, aren't you busy or something?”

“My whole afternoon is yours,” Bruce says. He decides to push a little. “And dinner, if you want it.”

He wasn't lying when he said he had missed Jason. Even if there had been interludes where the family was together, or that week that Jason had surgery and it was just the two of them, it has been a long ten months. It is the sort of thing he felt himself more and more capable of noticing or acknowledging recently, as he is less totally consumed by work. He often finds himself forced to pay attention, by activity in the house and the transition of sullen teens into noisy, bolder young adults.

“Food’s my love language,” Jason says when Bruce joins him in the car. “Did Martha Kent tell you?”

“Alfred could have told me,” Bruce says, guiding the car out of the parking lot.

Jason falls silent and when Bruce looks over, he's perusing the Tom Swift book. Bruce is content to let the silence, which feels more comfortable than tense, settle over them for a while. He drives without forcing effort into maintaining conversation even though a question is nagging the back of his mind, something he's danced around and not directly asked Jason in the few weeks he's been back in Gotham.

It feels more pressing the longer they're on the road until the silence tips from casual to anticipatory. Jason closes the book and looks out the window at the bay as they drive over a bridge.

Bruce clears his throat and for all his usual decisive action, finds the words stuck there.

“So,” Jason says, almost as a prompt. “I think my course load is gonna be pretty heavy this year.”

There are methods of finesse and diplomacy that Bruce finds it easy to wield in the boardroom, when the subject is one he is easily detached from and can be analytical about. But the closer things move up from the work of his fingers to the beating of his heart, the more that tact falls away and he mentally resigns himself to bluntness.

“Are you going to patrol again?”

Jason doesn't look startled by the question but he does, briefly, look very torn. He opens his mouth, swallows, licks his lips and presses them together.

“I don't know,” he says after a long pause. “It feels like a waste not to. What do you think?”

A year ago, six months ago even, this might have felt or even actually been a challenge.

But right now, Bruce just hears an earnest and troubled question.

“I think you should do what's best for you,” he says, knowing this isn't much of an answer but feeling compelled anyway. Jason scoffs and turns back to the window.

“Sure,” he says, bitterly. “Fuck.”

“Jay,” Bruce says, slowing to a stop at a red light. He watches Jason watch the girls in the car stopped next to them.

“What,” Jason says flatly.

“This is hard for me to answer,” Bruce says frankly, thinking of conversations he's had recently with Selina. He wishes he'd talked this through with her, too. She's always been better at nuance. “If I tell you not to go out, I think you'll read it as doubt in your abilities. If I tell you to patrol with us, I'm worried you’ll feel obligated or avoid me.”

“That,” Jason says, looking down at the book on his lap, running a thumb across the cover, “is probably true.”

“So, what do you want? You've had a while off. Do you miss it?”

“I miss feeling like I was making a difference,” Jason says. His thumb traces the curve of a massive, wired contraption in the cover illustration. “But no. I don't miss it. I feel like I should and I don't. And I don't want to decide.”

“Then don't,” Bruce says. “Don't make anything final. Just be Jason for a while. There isn't a deadline.”

“I'm glad I was Robin,” Jason says suddenly, a little fiercely. “I don't regret it.”

“I know,” Bruce agrees quietly. “But you don't have to prove that by never moving on to something else. You can be a Wayne and not have the usual nightlife.”

Jason pulled his hand back from the book and cupped it around his ear, relaxing into a cheeky grin.

“Sorry, I'm a little hard of hearing. All those guns and not enough ear protection. Can you say that again?”

Bruce isn't quite ready to make it into a joke yet.

“I'm serious, Jay. It's my fault I've made it seem mandatory but it was never supposed to be.”

“Okay,” Jason says, lowering his hand. “I'll think about it.”

“And besides, Alfred would throw a party if he thought one of us had enough sense to get out,” Bruce adds, pulling into the parking lot.

“I might pretend to be sure, then, just to get a cake out of it,” Jason says, and the stress in the car seems to have melted away.

“He'd make one for you if you'd just ask,” Bruce says, turning the car off.

“That's not any fun,” Jason says.

They climb the interior stairs together and stop outside the door. Bruce has made the trek to this rarely visited apartment alone before; he realizes he has no idea how often Jason’s done the same. He knocks and there's the sound of movement inside.

“You can't sodding have him!” Dev yells through the door, without even answering. “You fucking abandoned him!”

“Algernon’s mine,” Jason yells back, pounding on the door again. “We had a deal!”

There's a long pause.

“He died!” Dev says vehemently. “Dames’ bloody cat ate him.”

“Alfred’s never hunted anything in his life,” Jason retorts. “He's too lazy.”

“The rat gave himself up,” Dev answers, sounding closer to the door now. “Get a new one if you bloody care so much.”

“I'm not paying for that,” Bruce says firmly.

“You're a fucking liar!” Jason yells.

“Sod off!” Dev yells back.

A door down the hall opens and a sleepy-looking woman leans out and glares at them, then slams her door shut.

The door to Dev’s apartment swings open and Dev is standing there, scowling. The rat cage is visible behind him on a low table, the supplies already gathered into a bag next to it.

“Hullo, Wayne,” Dev says. “Your son’s an absentee parent.”

“He came to see his grandrat,” Jason says fiercely, pushing his way past Dev into the apartment.

“I did not and never say that again,” Bruce says, going in after him when Dev steps back and gestures a welcome with a flourish.

“You've been back for weeks,” Dev says, a final and feeble protest.

“I was settling some stuff,” Jason argues. “Get your own rat. This was respite care and you fricking knew it. And only ‘cause Martha’s got a stiffer backbone than Bruce.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow at this but he doesn't put energy into challenging it.

“Yeah,” Dev says with a sigh. “Take care of him.”

“You're not really pissed are you?” Jason asks, turning a little in his crouch, where he's been petting the rat through the cage grating with a finger.

“Nah, mate,” Dev says. “I’m not home enough anyway. He's better off with you.”

“Of course he fucking is,” Jason says. “He's mine.”

“How've you been?” Dev asks, turning to Bruce when Jason leans forward to talk to the rat.

“Good,” Bruce says. “I'm wondering how much of this attachment to rodents is my fault.”

“Probably all of it,” Dev says cheerfully. “How’ve your ribs been, then?”

“Better,” Bruce says.

“They've been better or they are better?” Dev asks, pointedly. Jason looks up from the rat to shoot an accusing look at Bruce, his white bang flopped in front of his eyes. He brushes it aside irritatedly.

“You told me you weren’t hurt,” he says.

“They are better,” Bruce clarifies. “It was just two cracked ribs, Jay.”

“‘It was just two cracked ribs, Jay,’” Jason tells the rat in a mocking tone. “My body’s just broken but I’m fine.”

Dev doesn’t even look slightly remorseful for bringing it up.

“I hate to rush you,” he says, “but I’ve a night shift at the hospital.”

“Weren’t you at the manor for tea this morning? When do you sleep?” Bruce asks.

“I can’t even take that seriously, coming from you,” Dev says, without answering. “Out. I need to mourn the loss of my rat before work.”

“You coming to the thing?” Jason asks vaguely, standing.

“As always,” Dev nods, and Jason picks up the rat cage. Bruce takes the bag next to it without being asked. “Don’t have any sodding emergencies while I’m working,” Dev warns when they leave. “I’ll leave you to bleed out, just out of spite.”

“Noted,” Bruce says wryly. “Have a good night.”

The door closes behind them and it is only then that it occurs, fully, to Bruce that this means transporting a rat in the back of his car. He sighs.

“What thing?” he asks, while they go down the stairs.

“Oh, hell if I know,” Jason says. “We always pretend to have plans. I don’t remember how it started. Sometimes, we talk about shit we never did, just to drive Tim crazy.”

“I don’t have an older brother,” Bruce says pointlessly, knowing this is stating the obvious, “but I don’t think I would have handled one well.”

“That is literally the fricking understatement of the century,” Jason acknowledges. “But Tim’s usually pretty chill about it. We should actually grab him for dinner or he’ll probably just eat crappy ramen. I’ll text him.”

Bruce waits in the gathering autumn dusk, the slight chill of the air blowing over him, while Jason finagles the rat’s cage into the backseat. And though he usually dislikes being left out of making plans, he honestly appreciates that Jason didn’t need to check with him or study his response before committing to the text he is already typing to Tim, while he half-kneels in the backseat.

When he stands, his eyes still on his phone, Bruce puts the bag in the backseat and closes the door.

“Hey,” Jason says, without looking up from typing. “It’s been like, two years.”

Bruce looks at the low moon, rising slow and waxing full on the east horizon, just barely visible in the narrow window that opens between the buildings and the bay beyond.

“Yeah. It has been.”

“Huh. Thanks for not dying,” Jason says, attention still seemingly on his phone. “And thanks for calling today.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce says. “One of those things was more my doing than the other.”

“Alfred made you call?” Jason asks, finally looking up and quirking an eyebrow. He grins. “Figures.”

“Get in the car,” Bruce says gruffly, a smile tugging on his lips. “Let’s go get Tim.”

#cor et cerebrum series #fic blogging #batman #batfic #jason todd #bruce wayne #minor appearances by #kiran devabhaktuni #and #algernon the rat

[patatasbravasmadrilena]

Day 7. 19 marzo 2020. I think we r starting to really feel it.

As of right now in Spain there are 18,077 Coronavirus cases, 831 deaths and 1,107 recovered cases. This entry will have a more sombre tone. We just can’t shake the gravity of the situation. We are fine, personally, at home working, reading books, watching youtube, watching HBO, cooking American style breakfast burritos for lunch (American breakfast is better to serve during Spanish lunch time than Spanish breakfast time LOL), practicing violin (finally) and watching (stupid) motorcycle videos (Javi, not me, duh). 

But at least we were able to receive an online Amazon grocery order in which we SCORED a 24 pack of T-fucking-P!!!!!!! We weren’t out yet, but given the WORLD-WIDE shortage of TP in what seems like every grocery store on the fucking planet, we wanted some and it was granted to us. Look how happy we are about it! 

The grocery continues to be an interesting topic. Currently for me, that is literally the only contact with the outside world I have! I already work at home and I don’t have any elderly relatives to take care of here, I no longer have any official appointments or doctor appointments, so I literally only leave to go to the grocery store. Two days ago we went to get some things. We get there and have to wait in line to get in. The lady tells us we gotta wait, then she only lets Javi enter. Then she lets me stand there like a freaking fool for five minutes and then finally tells me that only one person can enter per group/family/couple. And I was like, WTF BISH LET ME IN. But she was like, nahhh. Then Javi calls me and is like, yo homegirl where are you, you have the grocery list, and I’m like, the lady said, YOU SHALL NOT PASS (is my alcohol consumption showing?). So I had to snap a pic of what we wrote down. Not like it mattered, they didn’t have everything we wanted anyway. Here’s our list and then the newly published rules about going to the grocery store. Rules that we learned the hard way. 

The list says: -linoleum mop floor cleaner -balsamic vinegar -Javi’s 6pack cream -Javi’s hair styling spray -sunscreen -crushed tomato to put on our morning toast -baby wipes (super useful for cleaning stuff) -hummus  -a can of chili con carne

Currently too buzzed to translate the freaking grocery store rules for you. Basically it says one person per household who is healthy, no kids, keep a distance of at least 1 meter between ppl in the line outside &  inside the store, only go if you are healthy and if it is necessary to go, aka DON’T GO EVERY FUCKING DAY PPL STAY THE FUCK HOME. (it says that on there, just like that).

Anyway, despite that it is the end of the world, the memes on the internet are slappin’ as if everything were A-okay! This says, after 6 hours of quarantine at home, I’ve been speaking to my wife and I find out that she, too, is from Badajoz!! Badajoz is a city/province in Spain.  

My friend who works with Italians sent me this next one. Italy has it worse than Spain, well more like HAD it worse. Spain is like the second worst country after Italy and it’s reallllyyyy fucking bad over there. But anyway, someone projected a porno movie on the side of an apartment building in Italy. 

This is just funny cuz the Women’s March recently took place in Madrid on March 8. In retrospect, it really should not have taken place cuz there were literally 2 or 3 thousand women and people marching the streets for  hours in the name of feminism. At the time, we were all blissfully ignorant and in denial. Anyway, one of the chants roughly translated to, Alone, Drunk, I want to get home (safe and unharmed and unasaulted and unraped), but since the country was going into lockdown, all the bars and restaurants were officially closed. So this says, Now that I can get home, alone and drunk, Sanchez (the president) closed all the bares and he won’t let me leave. Fucking patriarchy! 

This next one is self explanatory. But sometimes it does feel like we’re just wasting time. 

This one is just too fucking much. Too puny, too stupid, too dumb, yet fucking hilarious. 

I bought Spanish health insurance today. So starting April 1 I’ll have something to help me just in case the worst happens. And I don’t have the numbers yet, but this private insurance will be soooooooo much cheaper compared to what it would cost me in the good old US of A. 

It’s also hard for me not to worry about my family in Reno. Considering how everything is set up over there, the government just isn’t going to take care of its citizens like they are/will here or in Italy, for example. Both my parents aren’t gonna be working for the next 30 days and my dad will receive a check for at least two weeks, but my mom won’t receive shit cuz she’s part-time. And as far as I know, they are still making my lil engineer brother GO to work. If we were hesitant here in Europe against taking any safety precautions ahead of time, then America is gonna be like that tenfold. The mentality is just different and the government can’t mandate with the same amount of force or power. Our individualistic ideals just run way too fucking deep. I hope it doesn’t get to that though.

[tamsclapper-blog]

The Artificial Clam that Ruined Christmas

Dave and Broth knew it wasn’t real. How could it be? Real clams weren’t limp and dry to the touch. A real clam had gumption. Yet there they were, packing it into a box with brightly colored tissue paper.

            They told their grandmother, 10 years past, that they joined the Navy. They even sent pictures of themselves dressed in real Navy suits they found in the dumpster behind the Taco Bell. She believed every photo, and now believed her grandsons lived in an ocean view condo in North Carolina. If she knew they really lived in Arkansas, a simple state known only for harboring the man who invented ziploc bags, she woulda busted a nut.

            Truth was, Broth was more frightened of the ocean than a baby is of fingernail clippers. And Dave, well Dave was ashamed of his brother and feared that he too might be afraid of the ocean. It was this ‘what if’ mentality that kept him several coat throws away from ever visiting the shore to find out what was or what wasn’t.

So when Broth got a call from their grandmother requesting they come for Christmas, he was feeling mighty pleased with himself for keeping a bushel of oceanfront pictures under his bed all ziploced and ready to go, but then she said something that made him wish he was holding a ziploc bag to breathe deeply into: “Bring something from the ocean.”

*

Broth sat in the passenger seat with the small box between his legs. He gazed out the window, avoiding eye contact with his brother. Dave held the wheel firmly and gritted his teeth. “I can’t believe there isn’t a single crustacean in this god-fucking bag-loving state.”

            Broth said nothing.

            “Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like without you. I imagine it could be pleasant and simple. After all, I’m not the one who’s afraid of the ocean.”

            “You sure about that?” Broth shot.

            Dave’s eyes flickered but he was quick to regain composure. They rode in silence until they crossed the state line and said in unison, “Panty horse”. It was a state line crossing tradition in their family.

             That night they stopped at a motel that was as famous for reuniting folk as it was for people untucking the covers, plunging in, and sleeping the whole night through. When they arrived the woman at the front desk could tell they were brothers and had been fighting. Dave arranged for two separate rooms with an adjoining door but the woman, pointing to a poster with their ‘Never Go To Bed Angry’ slogan, said she only felt comfortable giving them a single room with one, rather puny, bed.

            So there they were. Two faithful brothers kneeled down on opposite sides of the bed, hands folded hamburger style as they prayed. Broth prayed for a safe trip, a steadfast grandma, and for the ziploc enterprise to come out with a bag that could dry a bathing suit. Dave prayed for salt in the complimentary breakfast and that he wouldn’t have to sleep with his ass cheeks all pressed up against his brothers; a prayer not well received.

             In the morning they ate breakfast on the patio among the lilies and wire chairs. Dave was delicately brushing butter on his muffin when a man, who looked like he wouldn’t know the difference between John Kennedy and Clark Gable if you paid him, blocked out the sunlight with his lingering torso.

            “You boys on the road?” for a rough and tougher he had a surprisingly high-pitched voice.

            “We’re men,” Dave said, not looking up from his food.

            Broth said, “Headed west to see our grandma!”

            “West, alright. Okay. You can take my sister along with you, at least as far as Santa Fe,” the man supposed.

            Dave said, “Now why in the hell would we do that?”

            Broth’s hand shook like a thespian’s broomstick, “Dave, Don’t loose your temper,” he was in a deep seated eye lock with the standing man, “We better take her, Dave. We better do what he says.”

            “That’s right, there, Davey. Better do what I say. Ha.”

            Furiously, Dave launched from his seat, but when his eyes met the mans he handed over his watch quicker than a half-baked choir boy can say ‘no loose change.’

            Broth’s shaking was so anti-miniscule that a muffin shot out of his hand and landed in the shirt pocket of a young girl, about 12, who came to stand by the mysterious man. Patting her brim filled pocket, she flashed her metal braced teeth.

            “This here’s my sister, Olbright, take her with you wherever you want,” he turned to Dave who was gripping the table for support, “Just don’t let me catch any you three in this town again. You hear?”

            Broth tipped his hat and stood to bow, “We hear everything. I can hear better than a cocker spaniel.”

            “Uh, huh,” the man said skepticly.

            Olbright pulled up a chair and the sun returned as the man disappeared, unless you had been paying attention and saw him walk away in a normal fashion. Dave tried to shake his heavy daze. He had that sick feeling you get in your gut when you trade one good gemstone for one mediocre at best gemstone at a convention – and nobody could hear his cry.

            “You guys got any bees?” Olbright asked impatiently.

            “No,” Broth replied. “The bees have been disappearing. No one really knows what’s happened to them.”

            Olbright crossed her arms and kicked the leg of the table.

            “I’ll go pay the bill,” Dave said.

*

The only two things the car ride after the hotel had in common with the car ride before the hotel were that Dave and Broth weren’t doing much talking and the road was long and arduous. The difference was that now they had Olbright and she simply wouldn’t shut up. She talked for hours about catholic school and how she had never gone there. Then she talked about catalog models and how their faces change over time. What ticked the two brothers off the most was how oblivious she was that they had both gotten haircuts during the last pit stop. She just kept chipping away at their souls with talk of crowded city corners and pinto beans. Broth was just about ready to settle his head between his knees for a nap when the chatterbox from hell yelled, “What is this thing?!” with disgust from the backseat.

            “Jesus! That’s a clam for our grandma. Wrap that back up!”

            “A Whaaat?”

            “A clam from the ocean.”             “Um. Is your grandnanny blind?”

            “Um, No!”

            “This is not from the ocean. Even I know that and I’ve never even been there.”

            “Oh yeah,” Dave chimed in, “Well how come you never been to the ocean. You scared or something.”

            “Noooo, I don’t think so.”

            Broth reached back and grabbed the artificial clam and its box wrappings. “Why don’t you take it easy back there. Just go to sleep or something.”

            “I can’t. It’s day.”

            “Then let’s play the silent game. For the next hour I want it so quiet I can hear my teeth chatter.”

            “But what about the engine. Are you going to turn off the engine just to play a game? That’s really irresponsible.”

            “Enough!” Dave shouted and slammed on the brakes.

            Then, and only then, that artificial clam ever so gingerly flew from Broth’s flimsy grasp, broke through the front windshield and bounced off the hood.

            “Holy. Mother. Of. CHRIST!”

            “The Virgin Mary?” Olbright asked.

            “Yes,” Broth whispered, bowing his head in defeat, “Or so I’ve been told.”

            Slamming the car door behind him, Dave started down the gravel road. Broth scurried to his beloved clam. The shell wasn’t chipped, but the half- chalk like half-caulk like ‘clam’ broke off. Stuffing the pieces in his pocket with an iron fist, he ran after Dave, screaming his name on high. Catching up with his brother, who was paused in the road, and an eerie feeling came over Broth. He felt afraid to speak.

            “I can’t stop thinking about what happened at that hotel.” Dave said gravely.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Come off it.” The wind picked up and a wave of dust washed over their blue suede shoes.

            “I – I dunno.” Broth muttered, “That man made me feel like I was hiding in a kitchen with all pots and no pans. I hate feeling that way.”

            “So do I. I felt weak. And now look what were dealing with,” They looked over at Olbright who was kicking at a car tire. “We can’t keep living this way. Fear is ruining us. Maybe we should just go to the ocean and –“

            “NO! No, Dave anybody would have given a man like that their watch and looked all dumb faced and eagle eyed. That wasn’t fear, just common sense.”

            “Hey!” Olbright called out, “You guys wanna see your dumb old granny or ya’ wanna squat in the dusty road all day?”

            “Granny.”

*

When they arrived at grandma’s, everyone was feeling pharmaceutical. Broth had super glued a piece of ziploc to the shell and another to the artificial clam so that it locked neatly into place.            Dave lifted Olbright into an open window and she went around and unlocked the door. The weary eyed travelers sat by grandma’s feet as she napped in her ottoman. There was nothing to do but wait.

            When she woke, she opened one eye at a time and then her mouth. This is what came out of it, “When I was a little girl my father’s father took me to the sea. I loved the sea and the way the sand was like tiny pebbles, only different. I had waited with cold breath all winter for grandfather to see me in my swimsuit, and now there we were. He whipped off his shirt and ran for the water. “Come on, Virginia! Take off your top, the waters fine!” But to my surprise, I couldn’t do it. The sea had made me shy. I never went back after that day. And that’s why I’m so proud that you boys, my grandsons, live in peace along the seaside.”

            Broth presented the gift, feeling he might faint. Dave gulped. ‘She’ll know, she’ll know,’ he thought.

            Just then the telephone rang. Broth rolled over and rubbed his eyes. A dream, it had all been a dream! “Thank. God,” he expressed, grabbing the receiver.

            “Talk to me.”

            “Broth?”

            “Grandma? What a coincidence, I was just having the strangest dream about you.”

            “Really? What was the dream?”

            “Uh…you were drinking cherry cola in an igloo,” he lied.

            “Oh, dear! That’s wonderful. You know, I haven’t had cherry cola in years. That is a coincidence! Listen dear, I know it’s short notice, Christmas being only eight and a half days away and you boys living way out by out ocean, but I really would love a visit.”

            “We’d love to come see you, grandma.”

            “Good! Good it’s settled. Can’t wait to see you! Oh, and bring some cherry cola.”

            “Okay, Gram.”

            “Oh, and Broth? Bring something from the ocean too. Ta ta.”

 *

 Broth spent the afternoon preparing a rather suggestive meal for his brother.

            “Baby back ribs, baby carrots, and baby snap peas. Notice any theme here?”

            “No,” Dave spat as he tucked his napkin into his turtle necked sweater.

            “Well, you should, cause were going to grandma’s, baby!”

            Broth had the whole dream carefully written out, just as you’ve read above. I, Broth wrote that, just as I’m writing this, and I read it to Dave, stuttering and shaking like a bitch on pay roll. When I finished he fled the room and came back with a sketching of the mysterious standing man and a map pointing to where grandma probably lived in the dream. This is how I knew he understood what we had to do.

            We filed into the car, closing the smooth metal doors like true gentleman. We sailed past grandma’s house, who in real life lived right down the street, a secret us brothers guarded in the evening, morning, and early noon.

            This journey called for far more courage than a simple romp to grandma’s, and I figure you��re not too dim witted to know we were headed to the very thing we disowned decades ago; the mad sea. What you probably are too stupid to know is that the strange man in the dream represented our grandmother’s neighbor, Armen Kelley, who was always looming about, especially around the holidays, bragging about his best selling novel; ‘The Ocean and All the Things that are Really from it and All the Things that Aren’t.’ If we brought something artificial to Christmas this man would be our downfall, believe you me.

             Dave and I rode together in perfect unison down a road that was so malleable, you could slip a penny in it if it were a pair of loafers, and said, “Panty horse” when crossing our first state line.

After two days of travel we finally found a motel we could agree on called Absolute Fascination, and it was there that I caught my first glimpse of hell. Toes huddled together, I hid behind my knees on the cold bathroom tile.

            Dave knocked on the door, “Are you thinking about Jed Maco in there?”

            “No,” I lied. Jed Maco was a lad I went to school with who’s parents wrapped his lunch in tin foil instead of ziploc bags. My hatred for the Maco’s helped steer my mind off something of a vastly blue persuasion.

            Dave flattened himself, slid under the crack of the door and reformulated. I didn’t even know he was behind me until he tugged on my ponytail. I wheeled around and we were nose to nose – two brothers – just as it should be, would be, and was.

            “Have you ever heard the expression ‘the world is your oyster’?”

            I nodded.

            “Well, what if it really could be.”

            “Don’t like oysters,” I said after thinking it over.

            “But what if you did like them, Broth. What if we could lay out sunbathing, go parasailing!”

            “Take it easy.”

            “If nothing was holding us back, we could-“

            “I don’t want to hear your ‘we coulds’! I do just fine without those things. Maybe I don’t want to be here at all, did you think of that? Maybe I was fine as doing before that female doctor before her time reached into the utero and pulled me out by the hind legs!”

            Needless to say we both got like 50 emails that night. They were prank emails.

*

“David B. Cylinderthrob, clearly you are under much stress. Your hair follicles have been startled by something. What did you do to them? Well, anyway, that’s why you’re bald now,” the doctor spouted, tactlessly.

            We had arrived at the seaside earlier that day, where the mystery of whether Dave was or wasn’t scared of the ocean receded as quickly as the strands of dead skin cells that used to round his face, drawing attention from his ‘maybe its maybelline’ cheekbones. And we hadn’t even left the car.

            “But doctor,” Dave pleaded, “Without my hair, how will anyone be able to tell I’m albino?”

            “Oh, its still very obvious, Mr. Cylinderthrob.” The doctor bent down on one knee and held Dave’s chin affectionately,             “You’ll always have those beady little eyes.”

            Dave blushed.

            “Say, doc,” I interrupted, “Who’s thong strap do I have to snap to get some cheese curls or chili around here.”

            “Just go to the end of the hall and take a right. There will be four elevators, use the middle-left one and wait until the doors close before you press the round ‘four’. The button will light up when you do this, but don’t be frightened. When you step out, take a smart right and pass the first set of stairs. When you reach the second, descend. If we have cheese curls or chili that’s where they’d be, in the cafeteria.”

There were rows of them, nestled sweetly in a shallow tin platter, each shell raised at half mast exposing the steamed bodies of a certain sea urchin my brother and I had been clamoring for. They were the size of a wax turtle figurine if the turtle were the size of a rock that’s the circumference of a zookeepers fist, and I had a feeling Grandma was going to ‘go ape shit’ when she saw. I ordered one in a to-go box and a double helping of noodle casserole; I was eating for two since Dave’s appetite went out the window, barreling towards the tides with his luscious locks.

            I went up to find Dave seated in a wheel chair with one sad balloon tied to the handle, pathetically grazing the cruel tile floor. This was a man voted ‘Best Hair for an Albino’ in his senior year booklet, and now he looked like a tried and true grape, ready to combust.

            “Well, at least one good thing came out of this.” I announced.

            Dave grunted.

            I opened the to-go box, waving the morsel under his nose. His eyes glimmered for a moment, then he pushed it away. “Let’s get this honkey tonk Christmas road show on the road where it belongs.”

            I could tell he was going to be a real prick the whole way home.

 *

 I loved Christmas as a kid. It was the only day of the year my parents would let me use the bathroom before Dave at times when we had to go at the same time. It was also when my father and I would enter in an annual competition, just me and him, testing our fate in The Father and Second Favorite Son Snowmobile Race for Non -New Yorkers and Ex- Policemen. We even almost won one year. I remember that day like it was corn water in a vase. But it wasn’t, it was Christmas.

            Papa-runie had resurrected an old snowmobile from the dead, and this thing was mad. It was a three speeder but I swear it rocked like twenty-seven speeds. Mama usually didn’t let us wear helmets cause she said it made our heads look too big for our bodies, but when she got a load of what we’d be riding that year she said, “God has no head mercy for the foolish.”

            She wrapped our baby sister, Juniper, up in some old cloth, stuffed her in a French horn, and slung it over her shoulder. I remember at the starting line how mom’s brass horn reflected off my fathers wrist watch forming a powerful beam that flashed square in my eye, nearly cataracting me. They were so in love.

            “On your marks?” The mayor inquired.

            I looked to the father and son team to our right; a baseball card collector named Ted Bundy and his father, an ex-cop turned con. We were going to pulverize them, I thought mischievously.

            “Go!”

            Everything went silent. We were traveling so fast, sound couldn’t catch up. A voice verbatimed in my head, “Unbuckle your helmet.” It seemed a familiar voice, though too angelic to be my mothers. “Unbuckle and remove your helmet, Broth. It’s time to let go.” My hands reached up as if it weren’t even me moving them and unleashed my neck from its itchy strapped hell, throwing the blasted thing behind us. And then, it felt like a million knives stabbed into me. It was a pain like nothing I’d ever experienced. We had ridden over ice and it broke. I swam as fast as any boy wearing thirteen pairs of long johns could, and my mother was waiting at the ponds edge to lift me out. My father sunk immediately. It was the helmet, it was just too heavy. Devastated, I watched as the victors crossed the finish line. The boy pulled down his pants to taunt me with the fleshy keister and his old man flipped me a bird or two.

            The next day my mother and sister perished in a fire. Since then its been just me and Dave; Dave taking care of me, me taking care of Dave, and our Grandma making peroshkis and buying us the latest trouser trend. Now, with clam in hand, I finally felt man enough to repay that woman.

 *

 Armen Kelly. Was he beast or was he man? All I knew for sure was he was on our Grandma’s porch patting us down, “Saw it in an old cops and robbers film,” he offered aimlessly as Dave pushed his way through the hinged openers that could only properly be described as doors.

            When I saw her my heart stopped for half a second, beat, and then repeat itself just as it always does. At first she didn’t notice us because she was ravenously licking envelopes but then, in one maddening arm swoop, all the letters flittered to the ground and she motioned us to sit on her coffee table. I tried my weight and it teetered but with a bit of fidgeting Dave and I sat simultaneously on opposite ends to even things out, and Armen handed over a piggy bank to make up for the five pounds Dave had on me. Grandma didn’t make a peep except to give some balongie excuse for her favorite team, The Nicks, and to coin a new term. I took out my ziploc bag full of beach photos and passed them around.

            “You bring these same photos every year,” Armen spouted, “Why don’t you take a new shot or two?”

            Dave came to my rescue, “Actually, Mr. Kelly, Broth takes a picture of our beloved ocean front every morning, but he likes those few shots so much that he keeps taking them again and again. It takes a true artist to copy an image so exact.”

            Armen muttered under his breath.

            “Yes, and the morning before we left, I scooped from the shore a morsel so succulent that I couldn’t help but wrap it in Garfield franchise paper, dab a bow on top, and bring it to the only women I know who enjoys playing Scattagories with a spinner instead of a dice,” I said smoothly, taking the gift out my pocket like a boss. Grandma unwrapped the clam and bounced it on her knee, giggling like a school girl, when old ‘Shoulda Beena Stillborn’ put on his reading glasses and got his nose all up in the shell, sniffing.

            “My dear Virginia. I hate to say it, but I’m afraid this here clam is an artificial.”

            “A WHAT?” I shouted.

            “That’s from the Atlantic, you man fetus,” Dave chirped.

            “As is noted in my book, ‘The Ocean and All the Things that are Really from it and All the Things that Aren’t’, or TOAATTTARFIAATTTA, as we call is down at the publishers station, a real bivalve molluscs, which one would have to go to the ocean to find, has two valves which are connected by both a hinge joint and a ligament. This clam here? No ligament.”

            “Armen,” Grandma sighed, “Everyone knows how much help you had writing that gruesome sea urchin book. Really, I don’t think you’d know a real clam if it crawled into bed with you and took off your socks.”

            “It’s a fake!” he shouted and stomped.

            “Sit down, Armen, you’re getting red in the face. It’s unbecoming.”

            “Your boys don’t live by the ocean!” He turned to face us, “I see you phonies at the grocery store every Sunday!”

            The room went silent except for Dave crunching on cheetos, then he looked up and lamely said, “No.”

            Armen paced like a hobby horse ready to leave the station.

            “Okay,” Grandma finally spoke, “Yes, I know the boys don’t live by the ocean.”

            My eyes widened.

            “You use so many ziploc bags. Only an Arkansinian zips and locks with such pride.”

            Dave bursted from his corner of the coffee table, toppling me to the ground, shouting,  “I told you so, I told you so, I toooold you to lay off the ziplocs!”

            “What the fuck, Dave! You never said that! Besides, you use ziploc bags all. the. time.”

            “Boy’s, stop! It’s my turn to talk and I’m going to talk for a long time, so curl up like cats on the floor!”

             I laid my head on a broken table leg and drifted in and out of consciousness as grandma spoke for many hours. At times it seemed like everything was in slow motion, like when Armen Kelly walked backwards to the front door and closed it oh so slowly behind him. I couldn’t possibly reiterate all that was said, but here’s what I did pick up on: grandma, as it turns out, doesn’t give two shakes of a lambs tail about the ocean, and never understood why we thought she did. She spoke in high regards of the inventor of ziploc bags, calling him the prince of plastic. She also rambled about D-Day in such a contradictory way that I was unable to assess whether she was for or against the tragic day. I woke to Grandma breaking smelling salts under my nose.

            She led us single file into the dining room where Dave and I’s gifts sat on the table. We opened them feverishly, revealing two thirty caliber machine guns. We pointed them to the ceiling, and with each bang specks of ceiling fell like little snowflakes, raining down on us, covering my face just as the snowfall did on the night my father died and I laid in the backyard feeling still an untouched pill. Through the silent cracks between bangs, I could faintly hear my Grandmother’s cries; “Stop! My house!” But that didn’t matter now.