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wellhellotragic · 5 years

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Dead in the Water (1/2)

You guys!!! It’s here! It’s our @csrolereversal drop date and I’m so excited for you all to see the amazing art @clockadile created for this event. Everyone, please go to her page, check out this amazeball painting, and send her all of the love that she deserves because this fic would never have existed without her! She is just such a wonderful person and I feel so honored that I got to make words in an effort to bring her art to life in a different way. I hope that I’ve done it, and her, justice and that you guys enjoy this. Shout out to @darkcolinodonorgasm for pulling this event together and to everyone in the rolereversal discord chat. It truly has been such a wonderful event and everyone has been so amazingly supportive of one another, so thank you all for being so awesome! Also tagging @cshalloweek even though my theme doesn’t completely match the day.

Summary:

Killian Jones may have just had the worst year of his life. The loss of his hand, of his career, and of his pride were almost more than he could take. In a bid to reclaim his life, Killian decided it was time to face his fears, and get back on the metaphorical horse, or in his case, back on the water. Only, the purchase of a haunted second-hand boat may just come at the cost of his sanity.

“The sea is like a cruel mistress. You can love her, you can hate her, but you can never trust her.” - author unknown

Rating: M (foul language sprinkled in and some adult themes)

Also on AO3

“Mayday! Mayday!”

Nothing.

“Please, is anyone out there?” The faint words were met with radio silence. The only noise a high pitched whining from what was likely a busted eardrum. Weak and dizzy, blood continued to drip into the water filling the cabin. The once brown floor now covered in pink.

Searing pain, a sinking boat, and all hope lost. There was little to do but wait. Wait for the inevitable. There was nowhere to go, no reason to have hope. Climbing to higher ground had been a struggle, and pointless as the vessel continued to dip lower and lower into the icy water.

That night, prayers went unanswered. The heavens laughed as they flashed their pearly white teeth and the crackle of a thousand laughs filled the air. The rain continued to fall all around.

There was nothing to do but wait until the water finally claimed her prize. Until the sea took it’s claim. Until the world went black.

***

It was unseasonably hot in Boston. Granted, summertime was hardly a perfect oasis in the northeast on a usual year, but that July had seen it’s hottest temperatures in over sixty years, and the city had been a sweltering mess. The usually pristine buildings along Freedom Trail were littered with blinding metal as each window had suddenly become occupied with ac units overnight. There had even been rolling blackouts as the power company struggled to keep up with the city’s demands.

Why Ariel’s Antiquities had insisted on holding their event outdoors was a mystery to Killian. Women and men dressed in their best, hoping that fancy clothes would somehow insinuate that they had money and could easily out bid their competitors. Unfortunately for them, their power suits became far less intimidating by the minute as sweat lines began to appear sometime just before ten. As the hours drifted on, people became puddles, their shoes sticking to the sidewalks.

Killian found himself near constantly tugging on the collar of his shirt, peeling it away from his sticky skin. Unlike him, his brother had refused to undo the top two buttons on his shirt and seemed even more miserable, if that were somehow possible.

The two men had been sniping at each other for the better part of the morning, and now with the sun at full intensity above them, they’d resorted to silence as they milled their way through lot after lot. The auction advertisement Killian had seen online seemed to have mostly a mishmash of memorabilia and collectables, with a few actual antiquities mixed in.

But unlike the other bidders, the two men weren’t there for random knick knacks. There was one specific item that had caught his eye on the online inventory. A tiny thumbnail the only indication of its existence and he could only hope that it hadn’t been from a previous auction.

For over an hour, Killian traipsed through the old fair grounds, Liam in tow behind him, searching with no luck.

“Killian, I hate to be the one to say this, but it’s not here. We’ve been to every lot and it’s just garbage.” He turned to see his brother giving him a look of pity, infuriating his very being. “Perhaps this is a sign.”

“A sign of what? False advertising?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I just-” Liam took a deep breath, pushing the air out on an audible huff. “I just worry about you.”

With that, all of the anger and frustration from the day left Killian’s body. He couldn’t be mad at Liam any more, not when he knew it was true. When he still had memories of waking in the hospital, of seeing Liam’s eyes red and puffy from tears. It was the first time he’d seen his brother cry since their mother had passed years before.

“Liam, this is something I need to do. I need to prove to myself that I can get back out there. I can’t let this cripple me for the rest of my life.”

His choice of words hadn’t meant to convey the irony, but as his brother glanced down at the metal and leather covering his wrist, Killian couldn’t help but notice the cruelty of the universe. That even the most benign of words could cause such pain, even a year later. How even thinking about that day caused his missing hand to throb in pain.

“Killian, you are one of the strongest people I know. You don’t have anything to prove. Not to me or anyone else.”

Gone were the days where Liam teased him and called him little brother. Now, he was lucky if Liam said anything cheeky around him at all. And while he didn’t have anything to prove to anyone else, the truth was that he needed to show his brother that he wasn’t broken. Not anymore. That he didn’t need to be coddled like a wounded duck.

Before he could respond though, a glimmer caught his eye from a passing bidder’s reflective earrings, causing him to whip his head to the left. And there, tucked behind an old telephone booth, 2 huge entertainment centers, and a large canopy bed, there it was. There she was.

He didn’t wait for his brother, his jogging nearly breaking into a full stride. She was hard to see, tucked away behind items too heavy to move, but even in his limited view he could see that she was battered and bruised. Still, Killian knew that with a little sweat equity, she could be a marvel. He let his hand run down the fiberglass, feeling the strength of the hull, despite the hole in her port side. A gaping wound about the size of a bowling ball.

She was damaged, just as he was, but together they’d mend each other. He was sure of it.

“That’s it? That’s the boat you brought us all the way out here for?” Killian could only smile to himself. “Brother, she’s a mess. Where’s the mainmast? And did you see that hole? There’s no telling what kind of dry rot is on the inside.”

“Yes. I know she’s not much to look at right now, but-”

“No. You can’t be serious. She’s better off torn apart for scraps.”

Killian couldn’t explain to his brother the draw that he felt. He’d been searching auction houses for months. All of the boats he’d seen were either grossly overpriced, or faced the Goldilocks conundrum. Too small. Too big. But this one, it was just right. From the instant he’d seen that tiny thumbnail picture on his laptop screen, he’d felt it deep within his gut. He was meant for that boat, just as she was meant for him.

“And what kind of name is Jewel of the Real?”

“Realm.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s Jewel of the Realm.”

Killian’s hand brushed over the faded wood, tracing the faintest outline of where an ‘M’ used to reside.

The rest of their time there was a bit of a blur for Killian. Liam trying his best to talk him out of buying The Jewel as people threw their paddles up in the air, capturing the trinkets on the stage. Killian fighting with a man two rows ahead of him for the winning bid, going over the maximum price he’d set in his head. Giving the auction house the delivery address, ignoring the way his brother huffed as Killian wrote them a check.

But none of that mattered, because in the end, she was his. The auction house delivered her a few days after his check cleared. The address he’d given them was for a warehouse another expat had told him about. Cheap monthly rates and all of that. What Will Scarlet had neglected to mention was that the warehouse was actually an abandoned building in a rather questionable part of town. Killian never should have trusted the man with a deposit sight unseen. The building lacked windows or doors, and Killian immediately knew he’d been had by the huxter.

He’d scrambled to find another place to fix up the Jewel. The drydocks at the marina were expensive and lacked space for him to spread out with tools, not to mention the absence of privacy while he worked. It was bad enough that people stared at his hook while he was picking up food from the local pub or out with Liam and his wife. He’d be damned if he was going to have people watch him work on a boat one handed. He even considered trying to work out of his friend, Robin’s, garage but the thirty two foot boat simply wouldn’t fit. No matter how imaginative he got with his sketches.

In the end, it was the most unlikely of allies that came to his rescue. The last man he ever expected to aid him with the Jewel. Liam owned a shipping company, specializing in European imports, with English ales and German lagers making up the bulk of his business. The main office was based in downtown Boston, but there was also a small warehouse down by the port where items were stored as they awaited inspection. His brother, still not happy with his decision made him an offer anyway. Come to work at Jones Shipping Monday through Friday, and he’d have the warehouse all to himself in the evenings and on weekends to work on the “abomination.”

Killian accepted begrudgingly. He wasn’t necessarily in need of a salary. He had the monthly stipends from the Navy to live on, the only benefit of losing his left hand, and the idea of becoming a corporate stooge maddened him to no end. He’d already sold his soul once, and they spit him back out once they deemed him of no further use. He wasn’t quite ready to lose the rest of himself to a full time day job pushing paperwork, schmoozing potential clients, and taking orders from Liam. But the perk of Liam’s harbor warehouse was too great to pass up.

So he took the job. He started on a Monday and the boat was delivered on the following Tuesday. Liam had neglected to mention his need for a key, so after driving across town, Killian ended up having to turn around without seeing her. The next day he’d nearly ripped into Liam when he saw him, but seeing three other men in suits sitting in front of Liam’s desk made him rethink his anger. Or at least rethink giving his brother a piece of his mind at work in front of people he’d only ever met at staff parties. He’d already had to deal with stares and questions from a rather bold intern. The stress from his own self-consciousness only amplified his frustration with Liam.

He finally got the key from Liam later that afternoon, along with another gift that he wasn’t particularly fond off. One that actually left him offended. One that he threw back in his brother’s face as he stormed out of his office, not caring one bit what anyone thought of him. Not when his brother obviously thought so little.

He was too upset to even go check on The Jewel at that point, choosing to head to a pub near the harbor instead. The Rusty Anchor was a fan favorite for expats. It’s where he’d met Scarlet, which unfortunately didn’t actually say much about the place. He’d met a few good blokes there as well though, like the bartender Robin. They’d become friends in a grief counseling group. It was mandated for Killian, but optional for the other man who was grieving his wife. Listening to Robin talk at their monthly meetings had helped put Killian’s loss into perspective. Suddenly his missing hand didn’t seem so catastrophic.

Robin had invited him to the pub knowing Killian was new in town with few friends, and the two men had formed a bond in the months since. In a way, he felt closer to the man than he did to Liam. Like he could tell him anything without the brotherly judgment that always radiated from the elder Jones.

After a few pints and a good talk with Robin, Killian had calmed. Liam was still a moron, but that wasn’t on him. And as Robin said, he just had to continue to remind himself that the only reason he was even working for his brother was so that he could fix up the Jewel. As soon as she was sea worthy, he could leave his job without breaking his word to Liam.

In a slightly better mood, he headed a few streets over to the warehouse, ready to take a full inventory of all of the repairs she’d need. The hole in the hull was obvious, as well as new paint all over, and she needed a new mast and sails, but there was always the concern of dry rot. That was the biggest worry. Having to replace every plank of wood and all of the fiberglass on the boat would defeat the entire purpose of restoring her.

Not to mention the difficulties he’d face using his hook. He was more than proficient with it for everyday use after eight months of practice, but some things still tested his limits. As he walked up to the warehouse, thinking about how he’d hoist the sails on without tearing them, he was completely lost in thought, oblivious to the man standing next to his boat. He was more than a little embarrassed by the shriek that escaped from his lips, but upon realizing that it was Liam there waiting for him, his distress turned to anger again. Especially when he saw the box from earlier on a nearby table.

“Killian, before you say anything, it’s not what you think. I never meant to imply-”

“What? That I’m a freak. That I’ll scare away all of the clients?”

“Actually, it was quite the opposite. I got it for you.” Killian looked down, unable to meet his brother’s gaze. “What? You don’t think I see you? The way you shrink in on yourself when you’re out with Elsa and me?”

Liam had him there.

“Look, Killian. I just thought that maybe it would help you to feel more comfortable. I never meant to insinuate anything by it.”

Perhaps he had overreacted. In his mind’s eye, it was just the cherry on top of a horrible year. The whole world judged him. Wasn’t it only a matter of time before his brother saw him as a disfigured beast as well? Except, that wasn’t what happened. He’d made a snap judgement, and thought the worst of Liam in the process.

“You’re right. I... it’s harder than I expected it to be sometimes. I thought,” he had to fight to keep his emotions in check as he remembered those first few weeks in the hospital. How he’d lost more than just his hand. “I thought it would be easier than this.”

“And I’m sorry that I didn’t handle it in a more sensitive way. I think I was just so excited to show it to you that I assumed you’d be just as enthusiastic. Obviously, it’s not all that functional, but it’s remarkably realistic and Elsa and I just thought it would make you more comfortable dealing with clients.”

Killian laughed to himself. A sad little thing. It was very realistic in a way that nauseated him when he first opened the box. Even now, as he walked over to it and lifted the top, he couldn’t help the catch in his throat. The prosthetic hand looked incredibly realistic, right down to the synthetic hair on the back of the silicone. There was a metal clip that popped into place in his arm sleeve and a metal wire that hooked into his shoulder strap, just like with his hook that allowed some slight mobility in the hand. It opened and closed, allowing him to grab objects if he needed to, but it wasn’t nearly as advanced as the mechanical hands he’d seen in the clinic. Although this one probably didn’t cost the same as Liam’s house either like the mechanical ones, which was a plus.

He lifted it from the box, testing the weight of it. It was slightly heavier than his hook, something that would take some getting used to. It was also probably going to end up being longer when all was said and done. Wearing suits might be a problem. He’d have to wait until he got home to check.

Liam, for his part, didn’t seem to want to make it any bigger of a deal than he already had. Instead, he changed the subject back towards The Jewel.

“Do you want the good news or the bad first?”

He’d already had a hard enough day. He didn’t need the bad news at all, much less first.

“The good.”

“Well, she’s not a total loss. I’ve been checking her over, and the bulk of the damage seems to be located here, in the hull where this hole is. The fiberglass is badly splintered around it. I’ve been trying to work out what exactly could have caused it, but aside from an act of Poseidon himself, it makes no sense. Whatever made the hole, it came from the inside of the boat. The furniture inside the cabin is also ruined. Smashed to pieces or rotted away. But the rudder and keel are still in perfect shape.”

Killian leaned in closer, allowing his hand to move along the edges of the hole. Liam was right. The edges was splintered towards the outside of the boat, and the fiberglass around it was all badly cracked. The auction house had sent him home with documents explaining that the ship had been docked at the marina and it had been hit by some object during a storm. They’d clearly been mistaken.

“And the rest of her? What shape does she seem to be in?”

“Well, the wood planks on the deck could use a good sanding, but if you’re just talking about integrity, I think she’ll hold up just fine.” Killian and Liam both climbed the ladder Liam had set up, allowing him his first good look at her. “You know about the mast and roping already. A full redo on both of those. But come look at this!”

Killian followed, letting his hand glide upon the metal railing. For the first time, it felt real. Look at this! It’s the original certificate showing the builder. You realize what this means don’t you?”

“That you’re excited she’s older than you are?”

“No! She’s vintage Killian! Once we fix her up, you can sell her for twice what you paid for her! Well done little brother.”

Killian took a deep breath, already out of patience with his brother for the day.

“Liam, I see three things wrong with what you’ve just said. First, it’s younger brother. Second, when exactly did this become a joint endeavor? Just a week ago you thought the very idea of my purchasing her was the single greatest mistake of my life. Thirdly, and listen closely Liam because I’m not going to say this again, I am not selling this boat.”

“Well you are my little brother. And I’m just trying to protect you. Why do you think I worry and watch after you so much?”

“You don’t need to worry about me!”

“Well apparently I do!” There was something about the way Liam’s voice, the way it broke as he screamed the words that tugged at Killian’s heart. “You almost died! I waited and waited while they searched for your body, sure that there was no way you’d survived that storm. And then I waited and waited again at your bedside in the hospital, praying to God that he didn’t take you away from me like he had mother. So don’t you dare tell me that I can’t or shouldn’t worry about you!”

Killian had to will back the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He knew that Liam had been at his bedside in the hospital, but he had never thought of what it must have been like for him getting the call that his brother was lost at sea in a storm. He spent a great deal of time clinging to some wreckage, just trying to stay afloat as the waves crashed over his head, and his body plummeted over and over for what felt like years. Once the storm had passed, he found a piece of the destroyed ship large enough for him to crawl on top of and he let the exhaustion take over. When he woke again it was to intense agony in the hospital ICU.

“Liam, I’m not out there anymore. I’m not adrift at sea anymore. I’m here, and I’m fine.”

“But you aren’t. You aren’t here. You say you are, but I think a part of you died out there that day, and I-” Liam gave up all pretense of hiding, letting the tears flow free, “I think part of you wants to get lost again. Why else are you so intent of fixing up this boat?”

“That’s what you think? That I want to put in all of this work just to go out and vanish into the ocean? Liam, I’m doing this to prove to myself that I can. Because the idea of going back out there sends a bolt of terror through my spine right to my very core. I need to show myself that it was just a freak accident. To get back up on that proverbial horse.”

Liam said nothing, just walked back down to the stern of the boat and down the ladder, walking straight out of the warehouse, leaving Killian alone with the guilt of everything he’d put his brother through. Even as children he was always managing to get into trouble, and poor Liam had always been the one to pick up after him. As he heard Liam’s car start up from the open warehouse door, he couldn’t help but wonder how much more Liam had left in him.

If it weren’t for the fact that he had work at eight in the morning, he very likely would have found himself back at Robin’s, downing a full bottle of rum all on his own. As it stood, he had a debt to Liam, far more than for the agreement he’d made for the warehouse space. He owed his brother everything, and though he couldn’t give Liam the one thing he wanted most, he could give him everything else. He could be the prodigal son in a way. Arrive to work everyday in nice clothes, rubbing elbows with Boston’s elite.

So instead of heading back to Robin’s he went down into the ship’s cabin. The space was small, not that he expected much. The boat was only thirty two feet long, and not that tall. There was enough space for a small kitchenette with a tiny sink and grill top. Across from that stood what should have been a small dinette area. Where a table and bench seat should have been was nothing but wood scraps and moldy torn fabric.

He nearly gagged when he opened the door to the tiny lavatory. The toilet was covered in black mold, or what he hoped was mold as nothing else seemed like an attractive option. And then he went to the bedroom area up at the front of the boat. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect, knowing that the hole was in that area. What he found was nothing though. The bed and mattress had been removed, as well as the padding in the seat next to it. The wood forming the cabinets and closet had been torn out as well, leaving behind only the impressions of where they once fit in.

It was evident that the Jewel needed work when he bought her. And he knew that had he known at the time just how much work she needed at the auction house, he likely still would have bought her. But as he stood there, in the torn apart interior, he couldn’t help but feel scammed by Ariel’s Antiquities. They’d purposefully positioned her in a way that no one could see just what shape she was truly in.

Repairing her would take longer than anticipated, which only meant more time working for Liam. Exhausted, Killia headed back to his one bedroom apartment, crashing nearly the moment his head hit the pillow. The next morning, he rose well before the sun, even without the use of an alarm. Apparently you could take the man out of the navy, but not the navy out of the man.

After a nice run, Killian readied himself for the day by showering. Once dry, Killian placed his sleeve over his stump, followed by the hook he’d become so used to. He then picked out one of his better suits, not that he had all that many to choose from, dressed, combed his hair, and stepped back to take stock of himself in the mirror. It wasn’t a look he was used to. In fact, the last time he’d been dressed in such a way had been his mother’s funeral. He was still a teenager, Liam barely an adult himself, wearing suits they hadn’t yet grown in to.

Not wishing to dwell on that thought any longer, he headed for the door, grabbing his keys from the bowl on the side table.

And that’s when he saw it. The gift that Liam had given him the day before. His brother had left it in the warehouse in his haste to escape, and Killian had grabbed it on his way out, still not sure how he felt about it. He’d never really intended to wear it, not for everyday office use at least, but as he stood there in his suit, feeling completely uncomfortable and out of place, he decided to, just for once, do something for Liam.

It took him a few minutes to undress, removing his suit jacket and dress shirt so that he could disconnect his hook from the shoulder strap. The hand felt clunky on his arm, and it was difficult to get it through his sleeves, but in time he managed.

The drive to Liam’s, and now his office, wasn’t a long one, but at seven in the morning, it may as well have been a full county away. The traffic was horrible, not something he’d become accustomed to driving in. He’d always avoided rush hour like the plague, and now it would be a part of his daily routine. He also found that the hand was difficult to use. Because of his sitting position, it wouldn’t quite clamp shut around the steering wheel the way his hook would have.

By the time he arrived, he was over ten minutes late, and the morning staff meeting had already started. He did his best to sneak in, sitting at the back of the room, hoping to go unnoticed by Liam, but because the world was already against him that day, he failed.

Liam called him up to the front of the room, officially introducing him to everyone as the new head of client relations. Killian gave an awkward wave and that was it. He’d been inducted into the company, and day after day, week after week, he sat at a desk, working up contracts, researching possible leads. His nights were often spent at dinners, flirting with wives and schmoozing husbands into signing with Liam’s company. He hated it, and more still, he hated how little time he had for repairs on the Jewel.

Repairing the hull had been easy. He sent off for a patch kit, a misleading name considering the size of the hole to be touched up. After carefully cutting away the excess damaged fiberglass and setting the patch in place, he waited for the epoxy to harden, sanding down the excess so it was smooth. Aside from the lack of paint, she looked good as new. The hardest part had been placing everything where it needed to go with just one hand.

He soon realized just how difficult repairing the rest of the boat would be. The entryway to the Jewel was narrow, hardly wide enough for one person to enter at a time. He’d never be able to get fully assembled furniture and cabinets in. So slowly, he brought in all of the material, piece by piece. It took time, considering he’d had to carry all of the materials from the parking lot down the dock, and onto the ship. It was exhausting work, and there was still the matter of assembly. It took him weeks to get everything cut just to size, and assembly space had become a real issue after the new bench and table had been installed. Finding a place to store the cabinetry wood had almost broken him. The boat had almost broken him.

But he persevered. Slowly the cabinets came together. The bedroom in the bow of the boat found itself with a bed and a small closet, and the bathroom got a shiny new toilet. After two months, he’d finally finished the interior of the boat. All that stood in his way from land and sea was a new mast, the part Killian had been dreading most.

It was the very first thing Killian had ordered after he’d purchased The Jewel, but as with any special order, it had taken over a month to arrive, and then when it did, it wasn’t even the right size. He and Robin had spent the better part of a day trying to make it work, to somehow force the new mast into place, huffing and puffing at the weight. Hours later, Killian finally admitted defeat, and with shaky arms sent the company a firmly worded email chastising them for their incompetence.

Two full months and one paint job later, a new one arrived. Robin was unable to help him again though. Setting his pride aside, Killian was forced to ask for help. He and his brother’s relationship had soured. It wasn’t that there was ill will between the brothers, but there was a small bit of resentment on Killian’s part. Sometimes it seemed as if Liam was giving him extra work and setting extra meetings for the sole purpose of stalling his repairs. Some of the clients that Liam set him up with were too small to even have shipping needs.

We just want to make sure that they keep us in mind incase the expand Killian. You have to always be selling Killian. It’s called networking Killian.

He’d had enough. Eventually he’d declined enough of Liam’s offers to spend time together on the weekends that Liam had stopped inviting him over. The brothers discussed business needs, but outside of the office, they may aswell have not even have been related. Killian did feel bad. His brother was the only family he had left after all, but there was just the matter of his pride. He’d had so many arguments with Liam in his mind that he couldn’t remember which conversations were real, and which were made up. He just knew that he was right in all of them.

Which is why it was so hard for him to turn to Liam for his help. Unfortunately, the mast weighed a few hundred pounds and while the dock, where the boat finally resided, had a crane to help them move it in place, someone still needed to help him slide it into place and hold it steady as he secured it to the boat. The dock had a firm policy on not helping with certain repairs. They didn’t want to be held liable for any damages or injuries that occurred as a result of human error.

Asking Liam for help had been hard. It took him full two days of building up the courage. He’d nearly walked into Liam’s office three times before turning around at the last minute. Finally, he just had to man up. To his surprise, Liam agreed without much opinion on the matter, and that weekend the two brothers finally made up as they struggled together to install the mast. They tried seating it in place, but despite their best efforts, it was slightly off, leaning just a degree or two. While most people might have shrugged it off, both of the Jones boys were determined to get it in straight.

To the chagrin of the crane worker, they demanded he raise it back up so they could check to make sure the surface was level. Nothing seemed off to the naked eye, but again, the mast wouldn’t sit straight. After one final raising, Killian stuck his hand in the seat, trying to feel if there was bubbling or warping in the wood, and to his surprise, he felt something cold and smoothe, not at all like the wood plank he’d expected. After some fiddling, he was able to loosen the object enough to pull it from its hiding place. It was small, so small he wasn’t surprised that anyone at the auction house had missed it.

Liam, for his part hadn’t said much, but Killian could tell by the way Liam was breathing that his brother was annoyed, not with him but with the delay, and ready to finish working. Killian threw the gold piece in his pocket and together, he and Liam finished installing the mast and all of the rigging lines. Afterwards they went for drinks at Robin’s bar, a place Liam had never been before. They shared a few beers, caught up on all of the things they’d missed in the past few months, and each departed like it was no big deal, both ready for a good night’s sleep.

Killian had hoped to crawl into bed and fall straight asleep, but for some reason, as he laid there, his brain seemed to kick into overdrive. It started with thoughts of how he’d have to map out the currents and winds in the boston area before he could ship out. Before long though, all he could think about was work. He’d planned on leaving Liam’s company as soon as he was done, and while he hated some aspects of the job, he did like the structure it provided him with. It forced him to get back into the world again, something he hadn’t realized that he needed to do until Liam tricked him into it.

Unable to sleep, Killian got up to clean, something that usually relaxed him. He started with the dishes, washing and drying them all by hand before moving on to tend to his laundry. Most of his suit items were dry clean only, but his weekend clothes were soaked with sweat and best washed sooner rather than later. Checking all of the pockets and making sure everything was right-side out, he threw items in the washer one by one until he got to the jeans he’d been wearing that day. He’d managed to completely forget about the trinket he’d found on the boat, until just then.

He finished sorting his clothes and started the machine up before heading back into his bedroom, turning on the nightstand table lamp as he crawled back under the sheets. He let the metal turn in his fingers, inspecting the perfectly polished gold. It was a small locket with a bird etched onto one side. There wasn’t an engraving to go with it and told him nothing about the person who’d lost it. The chain that it was attached to was short and the links where tiny, meaning it likely belonged to a woman, but that was all he was able to gather. He continued to turn the locket, just feeling the weight of it in his hand, the surprising warmth of it, when his finger caught on a hidden clasp and the locket snapped open.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. Most women’s lockets contained tiny photographs, but the inside of this one held a small compass. The opposite side featured an engraving, but it didn’t have any names. It simple read: So you always find your way.

He should have wanted to search for the owner, to return what was probably a meaningful gift. There were plenty of news stories all the time about people helping to reunite lost items and owners. The soldier who had his purple heart stolen. The bride that lost her wedding ring on a beach vacation. They were always happy endings, and he knew that the locket didn’t belong to him, but for some reason, he just felt a call to it. Like he also needed it to help him find his way. So he kept it, slipping it on over his own head, having to pull it past his ears. He fell fast asleep soon after.

The next week at work had been grueling. Liam had lined up three dinners for him, one of them with a very sexually aggressive woman that ran a dog breeding company. Apparently there was a high demand for designer dogs and people were willing to pay high prices to have them shipped over the water during the summer and winter seasons when airlines restricted their pet travel policies. He’d had to pry her off of him at the end of the evening, promising he’d call her soon. A complete lie.

The whole encounter had left him feeling dirty. He hadn’t even so much as looked at a woman since his accident, not really, and he just wasn’t ready to move forward in a romantic capacity, even just a physical one. Not after having his heart shattered before. The woman in question wasn’t even interested in him. Not as anything more than a gigalo.

The weekend couldn’t have arrived fast enough. He just needed to get out of town. To get away from everyone, from his responsibilities. He was ready to hit the water and shed the ghosts he carried around with him. He’d planned meticulously. There were charts filling half of his closet and he’d popped by the Tuesday before to fill the kitchenette with snacks for his inaugural trip. He didn’t have a refrigerator yet so he’d done his best to stick with ready to assemble meals. Nothing big, just some bread and jams. A few tea bags and bottled water in case it got cold out on the water.

The plan had been to set sail just as the sun was rising that Saturday. To greet the new day on the water, but for some reason his alarm hadn’t sounded that morning, and for the first time since he’d joined the navy, he overslept. By the time he made it down to the docks it was just after ten, and the area was filled with people. Families going out on day trips. Tour groups trying to enjoy the last few weeks before the winter season. Before everyone would have to winterize their boats and leave them stored away until spring.

He was lost in his thoughts as he walked along the wood planks at the docks, past other ships, nearly tripping on a rope that someone has carelessly left out. Cursing under his breath, collecting himself from the slight embarrassment of it all, he glanced back at The Jewel. It was hard to see with the sun reflecting back on the water, but for just a few seconds, he could have sworn that he saw a shadow moving along her port side. There was a person on his boat.

It wasn’t unheard of, finding a vagrant living on an unused boat, or some random person lost and on the wrong ship. The Jewel had a very specific and unique paint job though. Mistaking her for any other vessel on the harbor would have been impossible. And he’d been there only a few nights before. He would have seen signs of a stowaway using her for shelter.

That could only mean that whoever was aboard his boat was looking for trouble, and after the morning he’d had, he was more than willing to give it to them. Swearing to himself, he picked up his pace, ready to give the trespasser a piece of his mind, but when he finally made it to The Jewel, she was empty. Thinking perhaps they’d gone below deck, he crept down the narrow stairs, doing his best to avoid making noise. There was no one though. She was empty. Just a trick of the mind.

Feeling foolish, Killian reemerged, on the deck, ready to give all of the lines one final check before setting sail when he heard a noise, a creaky wooden plank from down below. This time he ran, not giving a damn if the person knew he was coming or not. He was ready to find whoever was hiding.

Once again though, he came up empty. Even after searching in all of the cupboards and storage spaces under the kitchen bench and his bed. He checked all of the closets, but there was no one. He was all alone.

It was just in his head. Not surprising considering what a huge step he was about to take. The idea of going back on the water leaving him with an uneasy queasy feeling in his gut. Which was also the exact reason that he needed to do it. Why he’d tried to stress to Liam the importance of buying The Jewel.

He needed to conquer his fear. Even if his brain tried to scare him out of it. Because that’s all it was. A shadow from a person on a boat near his. An old creaky boat groaning from the change in humidity. It was all in his head, and it needed to stay there.

More determined than ever, Killian went back upstairs, ready to set sail, distraction free, but when he emerged from the cabin, he was met once again with an odd sensation. A feeling of being watched.

“Permission to come aboard?”

“Bloody hell, Liam? How long have you been here?”

“Not long.”

And there it was. His older brother, his protector, playing games with his head to place doubt. Liam had done more than his fair share of things to delay the boat becoming ready, but to actually try to scare him away was just too much.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Come again now?”

“I’m talking about you playing games with my head, trying to frighten me away from taking my boat out. You’ve made it very clear that this wasn’t something you wanted me to do, but this is a new form of low, Laim.”

He was furious.

“Killian, I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve only just arrived.”

He watched the elder Jones, the way his brow furrowed. Liam may have been a great many things to Killian, but he’d never known his brother as a liar.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I’ve actually come bearing a gift.”

It was only then that Killian noticed the neatly wrapped bundle in Liam’s left hand. Liam didn’t ask permission again, choosing to come aboard The Jewel to hand the gift to Killian. He felt more than a little guilty for accepting it, especially after having just yelled at his brother, but Liam was insistent.

Carefully he peeled back the wrapping paper, careful not to tear it, lest he find paper scraps for weeks to come blown into every nook and cranky. Inside, he found a book, an old one by the look of it.

“It’s a first edition. Took some time to track down or I would have had it to you sooner.”

The significance of Liam’s thoughtfulness was evident. It was a first edition of Peter Pan. The book their mother used to read to them nightly. Each time she finished, Killian would beg her to start again from the beginning. It was the thing that first ignited his love for the sea.

“Thank you, Liam. This means more than you know.”

Liam just gave him a nod, understanding the emotional weight they both held in that moment.

“I, uh, guess you haven’t checked the stern of the boat just yet?”

It was on his list. First the ropes, then a walk around above deck to ensure everything was properly secured, before walking around the dock to check that everything was good on the exterior.

Intrigued, Killian climbed down from the boat and walked around to the back side of The Jewel. But what he found was that she’d been renamed.

“The Jolly Roger?”

“I very specifically remember you telling mum and me that when you grew up, you were going to own a huge ship, and you were going to name her The Jolly Roger-”

“Just like Captain Hook.”

He’d completely forgotten. As a small eight year old, he was determined that one day he’d own a pirate ship. That he’d sail the seven seas taking whatever he wanted from whoever he wanted. Probably in part because he was sick of getting Liam’s hand me downs.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know she’s not exactly what child Killian had in mind, but you’ve done exactly what you said you were going to do. And I know I’ve been a prick about this entire thing, so I wanted to do something to make up for it. To show you that I really am in your corner.”

Killian was touched. It was possibly the first time his brother had apologized to him since before their mother died. Even then, it was probably the first time he’d ever done it without being scolded into it.

“Thank you, brother.”

There’s one final thing. Last night, Robin and I came out here and installed a motor on the back.” Killian was about to say something, but Liam barreled on. “I know. But I just want to keep you safe. If you should find yourself without wind, you’ll still have a way to get back to shore.”

“Marvelous.” His annoyance only slightly tempered by Liam’s attempt at a kind gesture.

From his inside coat pocket, Liam produced a manual for the motor. ‘A guide to your new Stern Mounted Electronic Engine.’ He had to give it to Liam. He’d thought of everything. Even a Mr. SMEE.

Together, he and Liam set about getting The Jolly ready. After checking everything over twice, they finally set out, both men trying not to hold their breath as the docks become smaller and smaller. After about thirty minutes, they were able to relax, realizing that the ship hadn’t yet sunk, and likely wouldn’t anytime soon.

The trip was relaxing for the most part. The brothers argued still, as Killian realized that Liam had completely rearranged all of the food in the kitchenette. It wasn’t surprising and he’d seen Liam do it at his house, whenever Elsa would just quickly throw things back in the pantry. But what did shock him was how Liam adamantly denied it, even though Killian knew he’d left the tea bags in the cupboard above the tiny stove top, not under the sink. And the chips had been moved as well as other items. Still though, Liam swore he hadn’t touched them.

Killian eventually let it go, finding it not worth bickering over anymore than they already had. The real fist-to-cuffs came at the end of the day, as the two men had already redocked and were setting the boat back to rights. Liam had grabbed the trash and told Killian that he was going to take it all to the dumpster in the parking lot while Killian secured all of the sails.

Liam couldn’t have been gone for more than a minute when Killian stood to turn and move on to the other sail when he slipped and fell flat on his back. It hurt more than he wanted to admit, and in his haste to stop himself from falling, he’d somehow managed to catch his hook in the jib sail, tearing it as he fell.

Killian took a moment to compose himself, waiting for the sting of hitting his back on the rail to subside. He must have taken longer than he realized, because by the time he sat back up he heard Liam call his name and scramble across the boat to check on him.

Killian assured him that he was fine, or that he would be as Liam helped him back up. Careful of his steps, he turned to see just what exactly he’d slipped on when he caught sight of small water puddles in the shape of shoe prints. Absolutely sure that Liam had made them somehow, the two brothers had it out, causing Liam to storm away in a huff once more.

Killian stayed long enough to dry all of the water and to watch the sunset over the horizon before heading back to his place to grab a much needed ice pack. His back was still sore two hours later, so he opted for a shower instead hoping that the warm water might help soothe the muscles.

Slowly he undressed, trying not to twist or bend too much. Catching just a glimpse of himself in the mirror are he removed the small gold locket he’d found, he caught sight of his red cheeks, realising that even in October, he’d still managed to get a bit too much sun.

Getting to sleep had been tough. It was only after a glass or two, or three of rum that he was able to find a comfortable position. He drifted off, dreaming of being a child again. Of Neverland and Captain Hook.

The next morning he was still quite sore, so he’d opted not to take a second trip out on the water. Instead, he’d spend the day shopping for groceries and flicking through television programs until he settled on Wicked Tuna. Before he knew it, it was time to ready himself for bed and another dreaded week at work.

It ended up not being as bad of a week as he expected it to be. Liam hadn’t scheduled any meetings for him outside of normal office hours, and the clients that came into the office to settle contracts all seemed relatively normal for once. The brothers had quazied made up, but both felt it was best if Liam didn’t go out with Killian again for a while.

By the time the next weekend came, Killian was eager to set sail again, alone. No distractions. No mind games. Just him and The Jolly. Unable to hide the gold chain under his work shirt, Killian had chosen to leave the compass at home all week, but slid it back over his head before getting in his car to drive down to the water.

For a few moments he worried that his plans would be dashed as his car had refused to turn on. The starter trying to turn over and failing. Finally though, he got her started and headed straight for the docks.

He went through his usual routine, checking everything over, checking the weather once more. It was a little windier than he would have preferred, but the local station said that the wind would die down a bit by mid day. With everything ready, he set out, heading up the coast line just a bit.

The wind stayed stead for nearly four hours, despite the weather stations promise, and at one point, his life preserver ring had managed to come loose and blow straight off the ship. Not wanting to waste sixty dollars on a new one, he turned into the wind, stalling the boat, and dove dove in after it. A foolish endeavour on his part, considering he was alone if anything had gone wrong, but he figured if he could just get to the ring, he’d be fine.

The water was colder than he’d expected. In the navy he’d done cold water drills, letting his body adapt to it. But it had been a year, and his body simply wasn’t used to it yet. The moment he hit the water, his leg cramped up, and for just a second, he sunk under the surface of the water as he grabbed at his leg. When he resurfaced, it was with a mouth full of salt water. His nose burned and his eyes stung.

Once he managed to make it to the preserver, he tried wiping his eyes, but it only made things worse. Looking around to see just how far he was from The Jolly, his eyes had difficulty focusing. Everything became blurry as it felt like he’d had sandpaper rubbed against his cornea. At one point, it looked as if there was a figure standing at the bow of the boat. An impossibility given how far out he was and the lack of other boats.

He closed his eyes, giving them a few minutes to calm down, and when he reopened them, the figure was gone, and The Jolly was more in focus. Killian managed to swim back to the boat, a freezing mess in his wet clothes. He hadn’t actually thought about bringing a change of clothes with him for such a short journey. He stood there on the deck a shivering mess, ready to give up on the day.

As he tried to turn the wheel he began to feel slightly warmer. The wind had finally died down just as local weather woman Alfina Merryweather had promised, except that Merriweather had neglected to mention that her version of a slight breeze was actually a dead stop.

There was nothing, not even the slightest hint of movement. He waited and waited, at one point removing his clothes and doing his best to squeeze as much water out as he could. He thought of Liam, of how his brother would probably be worried if he didn’t hear from him soon. Thoughts that eventually reminded him of the motor his brother had installed for just such an occasion. The motor that Killian never wanted, and certainly wasn’t going to admit to using.

It took him forty two minutes to read the manuel enough to understand what he was doing, the whole thing one long novel of gibberish. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, and how many times he went through the manuel again, twenty minutes later he was just as stuck as before.

After another thirty minutes of attempting to start it and pretending that hyperthermia wasn’t a real threat, he finally caved, ready to call for help over the radio to a towing company. But the radio was just as dead as SMEE, and all of his calls for help were met with static. He began to worry, checking his phone to see the time only to realize that his phone was dead as well. He continued to plea for assistance, the static only becoming louder, eventually there was a spark as he felt a strange nasty shock from the microphone

He jumped back, yelling every curse word he could think of until he was nearly hoarse. Just as he’d quieted, shaking out his hand, he’d heard it. A creaky noise coming from above deck, The same sound he’d heard on his first day out. The sound of boards buckling under the weight of a person. He was sure of it this time, unless the jolt had managed to shock his brain too.

Slowly he crept back up the stairs, feeling every hair raise along his arm as he went. Something felt off. Something just felt very very wrong. But he persisted still, opening the door as quietly as possible. He crept along the deck, treading lightly as not to make any noise. As he moved high enough to see the front of the boat, he noticed a figure. An eerie ethereal blur of a woman.

But before he could say anything she turned and looked right at him. He watched her for a moment, as she seemed to float above the bow of the boat, somehow both there and not quite real. And then her mouth opened, and with the anguished scream of a hundred voices at once, she yelled at him to get out.

He nearly fell as he scrambled backwards, feeling his heart in his throat, trying to leap clear from his body. And just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone. He was paralyzed in fear, completely unable to move when he heard the boat’s engine spring to life, snapping him out of his trance.

#csrolereveral #clockadile is just the best #show her all the love #cs fanfiction #csff

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malereader-inserts · 5 years

Text

Non Omis Moriar [2]

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Tony Stark & Son!Reader Summary: Not all of you shall die, so it’s all or none. Word Count: 3,762 A/n: ANGST ANGST, I hope this makes sense plot line. Also, I apologise for like basically writing the plot out again, you get the gist. Part one here!

“That’s not how time travel works,” You responded dryly.

Your eyes on your new suit as Scott tries to grab your attention, but you give him no consideration. He sighs as he watches you rewire your suit, stats on the screen for you.

“In Layman's terms, it means you're not coming home,” You continued as you sighed, put your tools down and looked at Scott.

“I did.”

“No, you accidentally survived. It's a billion to one cosmic fluke,” You responded, sighing, “Look, Scott, as much as I want to believe, this whole time heist is laughable, it’s a pipedream.”

“You have to be optimistic, (Y/n).”

You looked behind Scott and see Bruce, glowering over the two of you at the Avengers base, specifically in your dad’s lab. Bruce smiles at you as you shake your head, scoffing.

“Bruce, I’m not the one to preach about optimism, that’s Steve’s sort of rodeo but what have you been doing for the past year? You’ve lost to Thanos both times in both forms - look at you.”

“But, I’m willing to do something if it means we can save people, I know it’s not you or your thing to save people, but we’re the only people left. Remember what Natasha always says?”

“Whatever it takes.” Sighing, you shake your head, “I can’t, Bruce, I’m sorry.”

Bruce nods, leaving as Scott sends you one last look but as he watches you play with the screens of the stats of your suit - he leaves you be. A year had passed since the snap and all you’ve been doing is fixing Avengers’ equipment, updating the little things as you don’t have their suit.

Isolating yourself.

You made your own suit, the one you and your dad made was hard for you to work on because you made it with your dad. It’s didn’t feel right for you to work on something you and your dad made.

Within the year, you’ve been taking medication for sleep too. Nightmares of the time on Titans kept you all night and when you’re sleep deprived the voice and vision of your dad appears. No matter how much you want to see your dad, you were not going insane.

Within the year, the bond between you and Bruce had become strained, you don’t call him uncle anymore, not out of malice, but a family doesn’t seem complete anymore in your heart.

“I’m blaming Strange,” You muttered to yourself.

“Sir, you’re talking to yourself again.”

“It’s okay, Fri,” You reassured, smiling to yourself.

Friday has been ultra protective you, she may be an AI but in a sense, she was like your sister as Tony created her. Protecting her big brother from losing himself. Friday lost Tony, Pepper, Rhodey. She was not going to lose you in any circumstances.

“Hey, Fri?”

“Yes?”

“New project,” You called out as you watched Bruce and Scott figure something out across the building.

Glass walls work wonders, you move your suit to the side and Friday brings up a new slate of holograms for you to mess around.

“Hey, kid,” You hear your dad’s voice next to you, you could sense him probably leaning against the table to examine what you’re up to, “What are you doing?”

“Sir, what is this new project?”

You looked off to the distance as you smile to yourself, a mirror across the way. You looked at yourself and the hallucination of your dad next to you, you look too much alike. Same snarky smile of pure happiness and a confident stance.

“Thanos knows Stark men, he invaded my dreams since I was a child and corrupted my dad’s mind, if Strange says I’m needed then I’ll damn well avenge my father.”

“Hey,”

You jumped at the sudden voice of your dad in your ear, rubbing your eyes out of sleep as you realised that you’ve been sleeping in the lab,

“What day is it?”

“You’ve been passed out for two days sir, you fell asleep the moment you sat down, you haven’t even started your new project.”

“Way for a dramatic flair,” You commented as the AI buzzed in amusement, “What’s going on with shorty and Professor Green?”

“I believe they are ninety per cent in finishing what you have called time-heist.”

You nodded, “I’ll start it after I get food.”

When you had returned back to base Bruce and Scott was nowhere to find as you sat down and got to work. You didn’t know how long you were in the lab for as you reclined in the chair, groaning, your head hurts.

“By the looks of Scott and Bruce out there, Scott turned into a baby?”

Friday didn’t respond as she pulls up the video of Scott and Bruce wild attempt of time travel, as you chuckle as they were entertaining, you shake your head. your shoulders tensing. Getting back to work into the nightfall.

“Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out. So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time, in the shape of a Mobius strip, inverted, please.

”Processing...”

Friday was processing as you wandered around the lab, kicking a soccer ball into the glass walls, you could hear your dad scowling at you for leaving ball prints on the clean glass.

“Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. Gotta take a second.”

“Just a moment.”

“And don't worry if it doesn't pan out. I'm just kinda-” You were interrupted by Friday.

“Model rendered.”

In a complete shock of amazement, the render comes back as successful. You smacked the ball so hard into the glass that it bounced back into your face, but you didn’t care because you were too bewildered by this discovery.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” You breathed, then laughing in joy, opening the door of the lab, “Bruce, Scott!”

They peaked out, seeing a stupid grin on your face, Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It’s been a while since you smiled like that, it’s been a while since you got excited over something.

“Call Nebs, we’re doing a time heist...”

“Aw hell yeah!” Scott celebrated.

Bruce looks over to you, watching smile to yourself, you glanced up and did a small nod to his way.

“I’ll make suits, it’ll be the four of us and we need a test run, Scott, you’re up for it?”

“Hell yeah, I am,”

“Okay, so the "how" works. Now we gotta figure out the when and the where.” Bruce speaks as he looks at the three remaining people of heroes.

“That’s easy,” Bruce looks at you with a raised eyebrow, “With all data collected throughout the almost ten years you guys have been Avengers, it has the location of most Infinity stones.”

You looked at the blank face of the green giant, you scoffed as Bruce shakes his head, “I’m confused.”

“Am I seriously the only one who reads the paperwork after your missions and I’m not even part of the team, man.”

“Well... You and your dad are very much alike,” Bruce offers weakly as you pulled a face.

“Anyway...”

As you started your rambling with Bruce trying to write everything down despite Friday recalling your words and putting on the hologram, two stones were talked about by Nebula, after a short silence of awkwardness as she mentions that her sister was murdered by their dad, Thanos. You, Nebula, Bruce and Scott examine the screens.

The holograms displaying the different location, the Soul and Power stones in space in 2014. the Reality stone in Asgard, 2013; and the Space, Mind, and Time stones in New York City 2012.

“Bruce, Scott, you two will go to New York City, Nebula and I will go to Asgard and space,” You initiated s they all nodded.

You never thought you would come to a point that you were a leader, in fact, you hated taking responsibility, you hated leading stuff and people looking up to you for direction - it was too much greatness upon your shoulders in your eyes.

“Don’t fuck it up,” You narrowed your eyes, “I mean it-”

“Yes, sir-” Scott says as you looked at him weirdly, “I mean, Mr Stark, er, no, (Y/n).”

As you suit up, you stare at the old suit that you built with your dad, packing it up into a compressed case and held it together on the transporter. Nebula and Scott give you funny looks but you decided to ignore it.

“Alright, simple in and out mission,” you called out one last time, “Whatever it takes.”

“You know, to obtain the soul stone you have to sacrifice something, Nebula came back with you,” Bruce says as you looked at him annoyed as you tried to assemble a gauntlet.

“The suit, dad and I made together,” You responded, you shoulders deflating, “Technically, it’s last thing I have of him, not the lab, not his tools, not even Friday. Scrap metal of memories left of my dad. I have nothing left of him. I need my dad back, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Bruce nods, “Carol hasn’t responded to your messages.”

“It’s fine, I’ve been updating her anyway,”

“You talk to her?”

“She’s a good listener,” You shrugged your shoulder, “Even if I’m talking to her through a hologram. Now, uncle Bruce, silence would be nice.”

Bruce opened his mouth before shutting it closed when you give him a pointed look, you cast your eyes towards the gauntlet again as you picked up the stones gently. With nervous precision, you manipulate the machine and carefully places all six stones into the gauntlet.

“Alright, the glove is ready, the question is who will wear it and bring everyone back?” Bring the iron man like gauntlet out to show to Scott and Bruce, “Where’s Nebula?”

“Toilet?”

“Androids can go to the toilet?” You asked Scott, tilting your head at the man who answered your question.

“It’s 2019 man, anything is possible.”

You gave it some consideration as you agreed as you looked at the two men, you placed the gauntlet down on the table to suit up for any accident, your new suit is something you’ve been working on a few months, full of your ideas and ideas that you found from your dad’s blueprints of your old suit.

“I’ll do it,” Bruce calls out as Scott and you looked up at the half man half hulk, “But the radiation's mostly gamma,” He takes a good look at the gauntlet, “It's like...uh...I was made for this.”

You nod as you helped Bruce place the gauntlet on, watching the metal adjust to the size of his big hand. Scott and you took a few steps back as Bruce lets out a shaky breath.

“You remember... everyone Thanos snapped away a year ago and just bringing them back to now, today. Don't change anything from the last year.”

“Got it.”

“Hey, Friday, do me a favour and activate dad’s Protocol 8,” You called out as the facility goes down into lockdown.

You bring your mask down of your metal suit as you watch Scott do the same thing. Bruce starts to bring his thoughts into what he wants, electricity running through, Bruce was grunting in pain. You wince to see him in pain.

“Uncle Bruce?”

“I’m good!” Bruce managed to spit out, “I’m okay!”

Bruce screams, fighting through the intense pain coursing through his body courtesy of the gauntlet, and manages to snap his fingers. He faints and the gauntlet slides off his arm. You kick the gauntlet away as you and Scott looked over the giant.

“Brucie?” You asked, your mask coming down as you cooled down his burnt arm.

“Did I do it?”

Scott looks outside, it was brighter and birds were chirping, Bruce managed to open his eyes and see your smiling face.

“The grass is always greener on the other side,” You say as Scott laughs, looking relieved.

You looked over to Scott with a smile, hoping you’ve completed what you wanted to do, hoping you have your dad back as you looked back at Banner, a smile had fallen off his lips. Looking up the skyline and seeing the Sanctuary II up in the sky and a single missile heading towards the base blowing away Scott away. Then a continuous array of missiles destroys the base completely.

“Sir?”

You groaned at the voice of Friday, you get up to your feet and see Thanos sitting by. You breathed heavily, your suit covered in ash and dirt.

“Bruce, Scott?” You called out to your comm, it felt funny for you to be participating in hero action as you were not a hero yourself.

“We have the gauntlet,” Scott calls out, he sounds drowned out, “We’re underground but we can make it out.”

“Keep that damn thing away from Thanos,” You growled.

Your suit whirling, tightening. You breathed heavily, it all or nothing. You started to make your way down there, Thanos smirking as he recognised you when he has been invading your dreams as a little boy.

“You could not live with your own failure. And where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. And as long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

You rolled your eyes at his monologue, “Yeah, we’re all types of stubborn.”

“I'm thankful. Because now, I know what I must do.” He stands up, “I will shred this universe down to its last atom. And then...With the stones you've collected for me, create a new one. Teeming with life, but knows not what it has lost but only what it has been given. A grateful universe.”

You put your mask up as he placed his helmet on, “As long as I’m alive, I’ll be damned.”

“I’ve admired you, (Y/n) Stark, from your pretty little dreams, I find a lot of interesting information about you. You are courageous, I commend you for that. But, unfortunately, as much I would love to keep you around, I can’t have you stand in the way.”

“Tough.”

You weren’t a skilled fighter, but you knew the basic of the Iron Man suits. You were able to hold him back off, and in fact, you were surprising yourself in how well you were fighting a Titan.

Smacking you into debris as you stumble to stand up, using energy to blast Thanos before he gives you one last kick to the ground. Spitting blood into your suit as you pant, struggling to get onto your feet.

“In all my years of conquest...violence...slaughter... It was never personal. But I'll tell you now... what I'm about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet... I'm gonna enjoy it. Very, very much.”

Thanos’ entire army is summoned to the ground which includes the Children of Thanos, Chitauri, Outriders. Upon seeing the army descending on Earth, you straighten your back with a fierce determination, you allowed your suit to self-repair and stand against Thanos' giant army alone. Suddenly, a crackling comes in on his communicator.

AC/DC blaring in your ear.

“Hey, kid!”

You stopped, now is not the time to have a hallucination of your dad.

“Kid? You hear me? Sonny boy?” The playful tease of your dad called into your ear. “(Y/n), incoming!”

You pulled down your mask in confusion as you looked around, seeing a yellow portal open up at your left. Three members walk out with two flying above. The original team. Your dad landing on your right with Cap on your left. Natasha on Steve’s left whilst Thor stood on a rock behind you with Clint comes next to your dad.

Another portal opens up, three figures step through; Okoye, Shuri, and Black Panther, fully restored and ready to fight with Sam zooms in from above in his Falcon armour.

Dozens of more portals opening up all around the battlefield. Through one of these, we see Doctor Strange descend in. He is joined by Drax, Mantis, Star-Lord, and Spider-Man.

Everyone watches in confusion and awe as more and more heroes arrive from all corners of the universe, all backed up with forces of their own including Black Panther and his Wakandan army, Valkyrie and the Asgardians, Wong and the Masters of the Mystic Arts and several Ravager ships.

Amongst the throngs of heroes, we see Bucky, War Machine, Rocket, Groot, the Scarlet Witch, the Wasp, and Pepper Potts (clad in her own iron suit) arrive. Nearly every hero has magically been transported to the battlefield to face Thanos' hordes.

“Please, say I’m not hallucinating,” You muttered to yourself, but Tony puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re sane, (Y/n).”

You huffed out a burst of laughter, Tony smiles missing your smile and laughter, “Scott? Bruce?”

Giant-Man emerges from the rubble of the Avengers facility with Professor Hulk. The Avengers, Guardians, Wakandans, Asgardians, and Ravagers take up battle positions. The heroes standing across Thanos' forces.

“Your call, kid,” Steve says to you, patting your shoulder, he figured that you were taking lead.

You pulled your mask up, taking your stance as your side looking at the other side. Thanos makes a fist of fury, angry at the outcome. You saved people, you brought them back, you were not letting them go.

“Avengers Assemble!”

“That thing needs to go back where it belongs!” You shouted in the midst of the fighting, Scott had dropped the gauntlet and with Clint, “He might have broken the quantum tunnel but we need another time machine!”

“The van!” Scott calls out as your team hears you groan.

“Anyone see an ugly brown van anywhere?” You yelled, punching one enemy away from you.

Valkyrie answers back it’s whereabouts as Cint passed the gauntlet over to T’Challa, who was far quicker than Clint.

“Hey kid,” Tony greets, pausing in his fighting to lift his mask up, you do the same.

“Dad,” You breathed out, embracing him into a hug, “I’ve missed you,”

“I missed you too, bud,” Tony sighs happily, kissing your cheek, “I love you son.”

“I love you too dad.”

The gauntlet managed to get into Peter’s grasp as he flew on the back of Valkyrie's Pegasus. Wanda keeping Thanos preoccupied as the cannons of the ship starts aiming towards the battlefield before it all turned up to the sky.

“What’s going on?” Steve calls out.

“Friday, what are they firing at?” You hear your dad through the communication, as you paused your blasting, looking up to the sky.

“Something just entered the upper atmosphere,” Friday replied.

You smirked, “Hey Carol!”

Captain Marvel flies through the ship, and it results in an explosion and the ship crash-landing in the lake, she hovers over and waves at you.

“Hey, little guy,”

“We need an assist here, Carol!”

As Carol makes her way to the van, you, Tony and Peper form a hovering triangle, blasting in each angel as you spin in a circle, having your back faced to each other. You, Tony and Steve all head over to where Carol was. She flies through all of them easily and reaches Thanos. She keeps punching him, but he knocks her to the ground, wears the gauntlet and tries to snap. But Captain Marvel arises again and stops his fingers from snapping.

Thanos headbutts her, but it does nothing.

Thanos pulls the Power Stone out of the Gauntlet and uses it in his free hand to hit Captain Marvel away, then puts the stone back into the Gauntlet.

“(Y/n)!” You turn to see Strange with a questioning look, “You’re needed!”

Strange simply raise one finger, reminding you that the one win over Thanos he foresaw is now at risk. You breathed heavily, everything sounded muted out as you watch the team you grew up and admired struggle. You could hear in the background Steve shouting orders as well as your dad.

You just got your dad back, and yet you were easily going to make the decision that he will live. You nod and attack Thanos, pulling on the Gauntlet before Thanos punches you away.

“(Y/n)!” Tony shouts in desperation at the attack.

You were on your knees, back straight as you looked at the Titan King, “I am the new beginning.”

Thanos snaps his fingers, but nothing happens except a metallic "clink." He sees the Infinity Stones are missing. You have the stones on your own gauntlet, to Thanos' shock

“I think not.”

You snap your fingers with a loud "CLANG" and a blinding flash of white. Rocket fires at a Leviathan and before it devours him, it crumbles into ash. The Black Order starts crumbling to ash. T'Challa and Quill look around in surprise; Steve looks on in exhaustion, knowing that they won.

Thanos, in horror, looks around and sees his entire army disintegrate. He looks at Steve, who just stares at him. Thanos sits down and mourns before slowly being erased from existence himself.

Tony snaps his head over to you, your metal suit releases you from inside as you crumble down onto the floor.

“Kid? Buddy? (Y/n)?” Tony frantically calls out as he gets out of his own suit.

He runs up to you, pulling you into his arms. Your breathing is shallow and your right side is completely destroyed as he clutches you tight in desperation. Pepper, Rhodey and Peter all fly over to you.

“Come on, (Y/n), you’re gonna make it,” Tony’s voice cracked, crumbled, tears forming and staining his cheeks.

“My sweet boy,” Pepper coos, fixing your hair as tears were building up in everyone eyes.

Peter gasping, unable to breathe, he found a family, a brother who would tease him and love him no matter what, fading quickly. Rhodey looking at his godson, Tony was not a religious man but they all pray for a God now.

“I did....” You croaked out, you stare at your dad, “it for you, dad...”

“You’ve done me proud, you always make me proud,” Tony chokes, pulling you closer, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder, your face buried into his neck, “I love you.”

He could see your mouth move, but nothing seems to come out but he hears one last thing, Tony Stark breaks down. He gets you back, you did it for him, only for him to hear your last breath.

Not all of you shall die, Tony decides, your legacy will continue.

#tony stark #tony stark imagine #tony stark x male!reader #platonic #Avengers #avenger imagines #avengers imagine #x male reader #angst

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canid-slashclaw · 4 years

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The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapters 10 and 11

Chapter 12

Amalthia My Love,

I can't wait to see you again! As I'm writing this letter, I've been reading up on your peoples' mating habits and learned that grooming is a female's way of signaling she is available. Had I known you were available, I would have been ready and willing to perform my duties in a heartbeat. I did the measurements and we are pretty close to the same size so I don't think "that" will be much of an issue.

Sorry if I come off as sounding lustful. It's just that I can't get that image of you out of my mind. Even my sisters are complaining that I'm spending too much time in the bathroom.

Okay. Okay. I should probably close that "sinful" book for awhile and take a cold shower. Anyway, you are always on my dirty mind...

Your not-so furry "friend",

Kaleb

Amalthia rested her chin against the palm of her hand as she let out a wistful sigh.

You poor boy... one of these days something vital is going to explode if you keep thinking about things like that.

The doorbell whistle sounded as she heard the shuffle of a very familiar set of footsteps.

Kaleb!

She quickly threw on a light overcoat then slipped into her most comfortable pair of silken breeches and finally laced up her favorite pair of open-toed boots. Like any good engineer, she brought along a few gadgets as well including a micro spanner and butane torch.

One never knows when such things will come in handy. Especially when an event is run by a bunch of cheaters and riff raff.

As she came down the stairs she saw Kaleb standing by the door holding a bouquet of freshly cut lilacs. He smiled at her then handed her the flowers along with another folded letter.

"This is just a 'thank you' gift for all that you've done for me," he smiled as he handed her the flowers.

She took the bouquet, looked over it for a moment seemingly puzzled then gave him a quick hug. "Dead flowers that will never grow and wilt within the next three days. How thoughtful of you!"

"Well, I had considered snagging some half-rotten fish that had washed up along the shoreline. But then I thought about it and said, 'nah... she would think me a cheapskate if I didn't spend an excessive amount for a bushel of dead, overpriced flowers," Kaleb chuckled.

"Seriously, they're lovely. Flowers are used as tokens of affection in our culture as well. They are pretty universal, I guess." Amalthia took the bundle, dunked them in a decorative metal cylinder then filled it up with water from the faucet behind the meat counter.

"Where's your father? He's always been by the counter to greet me whenever I come here." Kaleb looked around and neither saw nor heard any trace of him.

Amalthia waved for him to come up the stairs. "He's sleeping at the moment. I'll explain more once we have a little more privacy."

Kaleb pursed his lips and nodded as he followed her up. Once they were both in her room, she closed the door then walked over towards the workbench and handed him the two pistols she had modified.

"I cut the handles down considerably. The center of gravity shifted so I added some extra weights to compensate," she said as she watched Kaleb getting a feel for the newly modified weapons.

"Wow! The balance on these is to a tee. I can't wait to fire them. Hey! Are you still up for the carnival?"

"What a silly question. Just let me grab my coin bag and broadsword then we can both be on our way." She smiled as she strapped the heavy sword to her belt buckle.

"Don't worry about the coinage. That's on me. Father and I made quite a bit this past week from one of our clients, so we are all good in that department."

The two of them headed out from the upstairs loft exit then headed down towards the center of the town square. Amalthia's braided golden mane fluttered in the breeze, her brass ankle circlets jingling in rhythmic steps to the tempo of a minstrel band far off in the distance.

"So what's up with your father? It's odd not seeing him there to greet me when I come in," Kaleb said with concern.

Amalthia shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not really sure. Shortly after you left, he seemed really down about something. When I opened the cooler this morning, a whole cask of mead had been consumed. We just bought the thing the day before yesterday and it's already gone."

"Oh no. Maybe it was all the war memories that were dredged up following what happened yesterday."

"I don't believe it's that, quite honestly. There is something else afoot." Amalthia pondered.

"Yanno. I wish we could at least hold hands. I hate not being able to show any open displays of affection towards you."

She gave him a reassuring look. "Kaleb. Don't go there. Remember what we talked about. Let's enjoy the carnival, as friends."

Yeah. "Friends", he thought as he turned away with a disappointed expression.

The carnival atmosphere was thick with a crescendo of noise and the aroma of cheap foods. As the pair perused the various entertainment booths, Kaleb happened to spot a shooting gallery nestled in between two eateries. He tugged her shirtsleeve then pointed towards the booth while giving a thumb's up gesture.

"Wanna try?"

"Kaleb. Those things are rigged!" She protested.

Pointing towards her pocket, he winked at her. "So rig it in our favor."

She placed her clawed index finger next to her upper lip as she thought about it for a moment. Upon seeing the array of prizes that were available, she suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

"Okay! I just give me a few," she loped briefly on all fours then stopped by the booth, stood up and scanned the targets that were arranged in the shooting gallery.

The carnival attendant stood half slouching looking as if he had smoked one too many bundles of prairie weed. Amalthia began counting her footsteps as she started walking from the back of the pavilion to the front.

"Ten and a half yards. Remember that number, mouse."

"Uhh. What?" The dreary-eyed kid said with a half-attentive look on his face.

"I wasn't talking to you, mouse. Kaleb. You got that?"

"I do," he smiled, deducing what she had in mind.

"Pink quaggen plushie, please."

"Umm. You gotta hit the targets first uhhh... sir? Miss?"

"Don't worry... won't."

"Uhhh. What?"

"Miss."

"Amalthia - shame on you for confusing this poor creature. Can't you see he is bereft of his intoxicant?" Kaleb said mockingly.

"Coin first, kitty cat. Then you can play," the irritated tenant grumbled.

"Gun, please. Thank you," Amalthia said as she tossed three pieces of silver into a bucket then snatched the popgun and percussion caps from off the table.

She loaded the first shot, aimed at the nearest target then fired. The shot missed.

"Point zero five degrees deviation at four point eight yards," Amalthia said as she laid the popgun back onto the table.

"Paper, please," she asked the tenant.

"Why do you need paper?"

"To wipe myself with, what else!"

Kaleb was barely able to contain his laughter.

"Are all charr this rude?" Grumbled the tenant as he filched out a scrap of parchment the tossed it to her.

"Do all humans swindle their customers this badly?" She said as she unrolled the crumpled mass then pulled out a stylus and began working out some calculations.

"Hey sir, missy... whatever you are. I'm an honest man. I've never cheated a customer in my..."

But before he could finish his words, Amalthia raised the popgun then fired an aim-corrected shot. The target fell back with a thud. Then in quick successive rounds, she felled five more targets.

"Quaggan plush, please. The pink one," she said with a wide smirk on her face.

Amalthia shoved the oversized plush toy into Kaleb's arms. "It matches your shirt quite well."

He just smiled trying to get a firm grasp while leaning over so he could see where he was walking. "I almost felt bad for that kid."

"I don't. He was trying to rip us off."

"Key word is 'almost'. Hey! Now there's something I might be good at," Kaleb said as he pointed towards a banner that read, Dolyak Shoeing Contest.

The master of ceremonies announced for men and women of all ages to compete against the so-called world's fastest farrier. Standing next to a blacksmithing smelter, stood a massive norn who looked to be at least eight feet tall. The MC boldly stated that there was no one on the face of Tyria who could shoe a dolyak faster than Halig the Great.

"He's almost as big as Ulfgar. But I bet with the right tools, I can beat 'em," Kaleb said as he pointed towards Amalthia's pocket.

"Your torch. It burns much hotter than that smelter and that will allow me to reshape the shoes much faster."

Smiling with glee upon Kaleb's clever inspiration, Amalthia handed him the torch. "I know you can beat him."

"Who amongst you has the courage, the will and the speed to challenge the mighty Halig?" The MC announced as he pointed at the audience.

Several brawny men, a char and two Asura, raised their hands. As they were ushered towards a large smelting pit, the enormous norn shook his head and laughed as his braided locks of hair flailed about.

At the last moment, Kaleb stepped through the crowd as he shoved his way towards the rest of the contestants. The top hatted MC looked at him for a moment before continuing his monologue.

"All of you grab your hammers and tongs and find the nearest available anvil that is located by each respective dolyak. At the count of five, the contest will commence. The first one to successfully forge four shoes from their respective strips of scrap iron, and can successfully place them upon the hooves of their respective beast shall be declared the winner."

"Are there any questions? If not then good luck ladies and gentlemen!" The master of ceremonies queried as he raised his hand to begin the count. Kaleb activated his torch.

When the countdown ended, every one of the contestants' hammers began pealing away as they frantically raced against each other to be the first to shoe their dolyak. For his part, Kaleb deftly began forging the strips into clean horseshoe-shaped forms as he took advantage of the blowtorch's higher output temperature.

Amalthia cheered wildly along with the rest of the crowd hoping that her man would win the contest. She saw how the sweat that covered his body helped to accentuate the definition of his rippling muscles. A lifetime of heavy lifting and athletic prowess had sculpted his body in ways that made her swoon with desire. She imagined resting her head against his firm chest and hearing the rhythmic beating of his strong heart. Her mind raced with fantasies of what it would be like to have him inside of her.

I want that more than you can imagine, she mused quietly as she gazed upon the human she loved.

By this time the norn had already placed three shoes on his dolyak. Kaleb was running a close second, but was still behind by one shoe. Thinking back to one of the techniques his father had taught him, he realized that it was possible to molten glue the shoe onto the dolyak instead. His dad mentioned that this was a common practice when nails were in short supply. The trick was softening the shoe up enough so the weight of the animal could cause the semi-soft metal to flay out. As it did, the ferrier had to work quickly to crimp the soft edges around the edge of the hooves.

This blowtorch is perfect, he thought as he began to soften the shoe with the orange flame. Remembering the dangers of looking directly into a blue flame, Kaleb pulled out a pair of welding goggles that Amalthia had given him. Once fitted, he switched over to the hotter blue flame as he proceeded to make the metal soft and pliable.

Halig was about to hammer in his final shoe. If Kaleb was to overtake the norn, he had to act fast. Grabbing the red-hot shoe with his tongs, Kaleb raced toward the dolyak, raised its foot using his free hand then quickly placed the molten item upon the base of the hoof. Using a combination of tongs and torch, he managed to crimp on the third shoe.

The massive norn was now only two nails away from finishing the contest. Undeterred and focused, Kaleb raced to heat up the last shoe to repeat the process once more.

Everything was down to the wire and Halig was about to drive the last nail home. But as he brought the hammer down for one final blow, the MC shouted to the top of his lungs.

"Time! We have a new winner."

The norn looked dumbfounded upon seeing the young human who had just beaten him.

"What is your name young man?"

"Grimwald, sir. Kaleb Grimwald."

"Well, ladies and gentlemen. It looks like this handsome young man has upended our current champion. The cash prize of fifty gold goes to the new winner."

"That is bullocks! He cheated! I could have easily won if that boy didn’t use that darn torch," Halig roared as he flung his hammer down in disappointment.

Kaleb spoke up. "Mighty Halig. I respect your sportsmanship in not taking a cheap shortcut in order to win the contest. Your technique was good, but mine was faster."

Several charr, except for Amalthia, bellowed in rage claiming the human had cheated as well. The humans disagreed and soon, a massive shouting match began to erupt amongst the crowd as tempers began to flare.

In an attempt to calm the raging carnival goers, Kaleb gave a very brief history lesson to everyone. "The kursikan molten fold technique has been used throughout Tyria since the Krytan civil war. Not many even use it any more, but my family has always passed it down from father to son. The Grimwalds, my family, are one of the few families in Kryta that still knows this ancient technique. Let's all just have a good time."

Within a short span, the anger began to subside. Many of the attendees who were familiar with the ancient technique came to realize that it was, in fact a bona fide farrier art.

Halig the Great conceded the title without further protest then went over to the young man who had beaten him and gave him a hearty handshake. Kaleb returned the favor by offering to buy his vanquished opponent a tall stein of mead. Never being one to turn down a strong drink, the norn gladly accepted the offer.

As their day at the carnival began to draw to a close, Kaleb and Amalthia had amassed a rather large cache of prizes. By the time they departed, Amalthia had garnered three giant stuffed quaggans and several various small stuffed animals. Kaleb, for his part, gained two quaggans plus the title of being the fastest dolyak farrier in Kryta.

"Blue, green and black - all mine!" Amalthia grinned as she stuck her tongue out at Kaleb.

"I'll trade ya the pink one for the black one." He said as he tried carrying the two monstrous plushies on either side of his hips.

"But the pink one compliments the color of your eyes and outfit so well," She said with a laugh.

"My skin tone begs to differ. Besides, I'll never hear the end of it from Rachel if she sees me bringing home a giant pink quaggan."

"Yer just bein' greedy!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Do you still have my torch?"

"I put it in your pocket, remember?"

Amalthia felt her pockets for a moment then confirmed that the device was still present.

"You forgot to close the valve. Didn't you? Now the butane is all gone."

"I thought it contained ahceedaa... how do you pronounce it again?"

"That's only used for my workstation torch, dummy! And it's pronounced A-ce-tyl-ene."

"Fine, fine. I don't care so long as it wins me titles and gold. You want the red quaggan?"

"No. They are evil." She pleasantly scolded him as they both laughed.

Dusk had approached as the pair arrived back at the butcher shop before sunset. Amalthia looked up at the stairs leading to her loft then decided that it would be better to simply go through the main door instead. "We'll definitely have to do this again. Are you sure you don't want to trade?" Kaleb asked as Amalthia led the way through the front door.

Turning quickly around, she said to Kaleb. "On second thought, I'll take the red one."

"But you said that's the evil one."

"I know," she said as she swung her head forward, "and, oh... hi mother."

Kaleb froze in his tracks.

Mother?

Standing in front of the counter with her arms folded, stood a charr with cold green eyes and a vicious looking upturned scowl the likes of which sent chills through the young man's veins.

"Oh... hi... ms.. Blastforge..." Kaleb said in an uncharacteristically nervous tone. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Fuze - Blast...fuse," came her deadpan reply as she gave the young man a cold, piercing stare.

"Kaleb. I think now might be a good time for you to leave."

He was about to say something in a barely audible whisper when Amalthia interrupted him.

"Have a good evening!" She said as she made a grimacing face hoping that Kaleb would understand that she would talk to him during a better and safer time. She handed him the green giant stuffed quaggan. He nodded in acknowledgment then gave her a reassuring wink before heading out.

Once the door was shut, Amalthia turned around and took in a very deep breath hoping it would calm her for what she was about to endure.

"So this is what the dear little runt does in her spare time... squandering her combat skills collecting cuddle toys and hanging with humans. Did you finally complete your little menagerie fluffy bunnies and koda bears?" Her mother said in her characteristic, derogatory manner.

"Oh yes mother. I saved the red one just for you. It has a face like a hylek. When I saw it, I just had to trade it out as its face reminded me so much of yours," Amalthia retorted with a mocking smile.

"Then give it here, child. I would certainly love to cuddle with it."

Her daughter flung the stuffed animal towards her mother with all her might. As soon as Siri caught the toy she promptly tore its head off then flung the pillowy remains across the floor.

"Well, perhaps an undead hylek will do that to your lovely face one day!" Amalthia snapped as she tried her best to contain her rage.

"I was merely expressing how I felt about you child. Try not to take it so personally. Anyway, if you are through with that forked tongue of yours I have some news you should be happy to hear."

Moments later, Ludrick ambled past the meat counter doors as he tried to steady his balance.

"Your mother does have something very important to say, Amalthia. Please listen," he said in a very somber tone.

"So you finally decided to get off your drunk, sorry tail and listen to the good news I bring forth? Good! Now maybe this little lush-of-a dingbat will take heed and try to amount to something for once," Siri spat in disgust as her pupils dilated.

"I would knock your teeth out right now, woman, if I were able. Just say your peace and get the hell out of my house!" Ludrick said in a hoarse voice while trying to hold his head up.

"Fine, fine. Both of you will think I am the best parent in the world when I say that I've finally found a warband that is willing to accept this loser-of-a-cub of mine as one of their own."

For the first time in a while, Amalthia was left speechless.

"Don't try so hard, cub, to contain your excitement. You have no idea the strings I had to pull in convincing one of the warbands into accepting your sorry tail into their ranks. With all that I've done, I would at least expect a big, wet slobbery kiss, dear cub."

"How about a hug instead?" Amalthia countered.

"Try it and I'll claw your damn eyes out."

"Oh good. Then at least I won't have to look at that hylek face of yours anymore."

"I'm sorry, Amalthia. But we think its what's best for you," Ludrick stated glumly.

"So now you're on her side too, sire?"

"I'm sorry, cub. But there is an inescapable reality that you have been bereft of being with your own kind. As much as I appreciate all that your friend has done, I think you need to broaden your horizons. I can't give that to you if you stay here."

Amalthia looked at her father visibly hurt as she tried her best to maintain her composure. "So this is what it has been about the entire time? Kaleb. It bothers you that we are hanging out together."

"Stop it! Even the mere idea is making me nauseous. Mice are to be eaten and slaughtered, not fondled over and befriended. Cub, I'm offering you one last chance, from the bottom of my generous heart, for you to redeem yourself from your current pathetic existence. There are more important things in this world than going to carnivals, getting sloshed and cavorting with hairless rats."

"That 'rat' was responsible for saving my life!"

"So the human saved you. That's what soldiers are supposed to do. Good little mouse... here's some cheese," Siri said dismissively.

The rage built inside Amalthia until she could contain it no more.

"I've had it with you, mother!" With those words she drew her shortsword then charged headlong towards her mother. As she swung her blade downward, an enormous sword parried her attack. Standing at the other end, stood her father. With the wave of his massive hand he calmly gestured for her to stand down then gently clasped hold of her weapon as she fell to the floor weeping.

Siri stood and laughed. "I honestly didn't think you could still swing one of those old man. Impressive! Hate me even more, cub, because that's what will eventually turn you into a good soldier."

"Stand down, Amalthia. She is just trying to mess with your head," Ludrick said as he withdrew his massive sword back into its scabbard.

"You have no clue ex mate-of-mine. The fun is only starting. Cub - three days from tomorrow, report to Iron Legion headquarters in the Black Citadel. Be there at zero eight hundred sharp or face a firing squad for desertion of duty. I don't care what happens to you so long as your actions do not reflect badly on the legions, or myself."

Ludrick tried his best to muster a bellowing tone. "You've poisoned this house with your tongue long enough. Just leave and never come back!"

Siri just shrugged her shoulders, walked toward the front door then turned around to hurl a few more barbs before leaving. "Suits me fine. This cub may be a sniveling pathetic wretch who is bawling on daddy's floor now, but given a few months of tough love with some real warriors, she will be more of a charr than you ever were. Until then, try not to let yourself suffocate in your own piss and vomit."

When her mother left, Amalthia just laid on the floor curled up in a ball as crystal drops flowed freely from her eyes. Her father sank down next to her, buried his head between his hands and unleashed a stream of salt water from his own eyes as well.

(Chapter 12 is also up on Google Docs.)

#gw2 fanfic #the outliers #kaleb and amalthia #human and charr #interspecieslove #tyriaslibrary

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cbtumbus-blog · 4 years

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TikTok Deal To Sell U.S. Business Could Be Announced As Soon As Tuesday

TikTok has chosen a bidder for its U.S., New Zealand and Australian businesses, and it could announce the deal as soon as Tuesday, according to people familiar with the situation.

Microsoft, in partnership with Walmart, and Oracle are the two top contenders. The sale price is expected to be in the range of $20 billion to $30 billion, CNBC reported last week.

However, even though TikTok has selected a bidder, the deal could be slowed or derailed by the Chinese government, which updated its technology export list on Friday to include artificial intelligence technology used by TikTok. TikTok's Chinese parent company, Bytedance, said over the weekend that it would need a license from the Chinese government before it can sell to a U.S. Company.

Walmart emerged as a surprise contender last week, saying the social media app would augment its e-commerce efforts.

Walmart originally sought to be the majority owner in the deal in a consortium including Alphabet and SoftBank. But the U.S. Government, which said it will ban TikTok in the U.S. If it doesn't sell to a U.S. Company by Sept. 20, wanted a tech company to lead the deal, according to sources familiar with the matter. Alphabet and SoftBank then dropped out, and Walmart partnered with Microsoft on the bid. In that scenario, Walmart would be a minority owner of TikTok.

TikTok's CEO Kevin Mayer resigned last week as the deal neared its close, after just a few months on the job. TikTok executive Vanessa Pappas was named interim boss. Pappas told CNBC in an interview on Friday that she saw synergies with Walmart thanks to new e-commerce tools inside the TikTok app.

Representatives for Microsoft, Walmart and TikTok declined to comment.

--CNBC's Melissa Repko contributed to this report.

Married Father Now Paralyzed After A Business Trip To Memphis

MEMPHIS, Tenn. (WMC) - A scrap metal dealer came to Memphis to buy car parts from a regular customer. It was while he waited on the customer that his life changed forever.

Tommy White, a 38-year-old married father of four and Ripley, Tenn. Resident, is now paralyzed from the chest down after being shot during a robbery in Memphis at the end of June.

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair for him. It’s not fair to any of us,” Rebecca, White’s wife, said.

Rebecca White says it’s not fair that her husband is paralyzed and now sits in a hospital bed in his living room.

Tommy White was parked at Lamar and Bellevue around 3 p.M. Near the Checkers waiting for a customer who had car parts to sell him. Then two men with the AK-47s approached his vehicle and threatened him. White says he gunned his truck, and that’s when the men shot him. He ended up crashing into the sign at the Lamplighter Inn sign across the street.

“Two guys came up to both sides of the truck with AK-47s and pointed the gun at me and told me to give them the money or they’re going to kill me,” he said.

White says he doesn’t know where the men came from.

“I can’t work. I can’t get out and do the things I want to do. I always wanted to do spend time with my kids outside,” White said.

He and his wife’s children range from seven to 16 years old. They have been helping out since the life-changing incident.

“They should be out here playing ball and they can’t do that. Dad needs help getting dressed. Dad needs help brushing his teeth. Dad can’t get up and cook his own meal anymore,” White said.

White says he was aware that Memphis can be dangerous and that he was careful. He even had a t-shirt saying ’I survived Memphis.’

Even though tragedy struck the Whites, the couple is very generous in their feelings about the suspects.

“I want justice, but I also want them to change their lives,” he said.

White doesn’t have much of a description of the suspects - just two guys in their early 20s, one with long dreads and the other with short hair.

Click here to find a GoFundMe account set up.

Gogo Selling Part Of Its Business For $400 Million

Gogo is selling its business of providing in-flight internet access and entertainment to commercial airlines to satellite communications provider Intelsat for $400 million in cash.

Chicago-based Gogo, which went public in 2013, has struggled to earn enough money from airlines and travelers to cover the immense cost of delivering service to airplanes. But it has been particularly hard-hit by the COVID-19 pandemic, which has crushed commercial air travel. Gogo furloughed 600 workers in April and said July 30 it would permanently cut 143 jobs.

Gogo reported Aug. 10 that its second-quarter sales fell 55 percent. “It certainly was an extraordinary quarter, but for all the wrong reasons. I think I can sum it up by saying that if you sell internet on airplanes and no one's on the plane, it's tough,” CEO Oakleigh Thorne said before announcing Gogo had been shopping the business.

Intelsat, a satellite provider based in Luxembourg that filed for bankruptcy protection in May, received approval Monday to buy the commercial airline business from Gogo. Intelsat has a $1 billion debtor-in-possession credit facility.

Gogo says it will remain a public company. It plans to use some of the cash to pay down the company’s $1.1 billion in debt.

“This transaction creates a stronger and more focused Gogo, with the singular strategic imperative of serving the business aviation market with the best inflight connectivity and entertainment products in the world,” Thorne said in a statement.

The companies said Intelsat will operate the commercial aviation business as an independent business based in Chicago.

The deal takes Gogo back to its roots, when it was founded in 1991 as Air Cell, a provider of wireless service to business aircraft. Unlike commercial aviation, which is down about 80 percent, Gogo said its business aviation traffic is the reverse.

The business aviation unit has 30 percent higher revenue than commercial aviation. A year ago, commercial aviation was twice as large. More importantly, business aviation is profitable. Commercial aviation is losing money.

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todorokis-left-shoe · 5 years

Text

Haircut

Metal was only three when Lee decided it was time to give him the signature bowl cut. But Metal, like many other kids his age, was afraid of the sharp scissors coming near his face. Lee had actually hyped up the hair cut to make it seem much more exciting, copying Hinata and Naruto when they had to give Boruto a haircut. But then when it came time to actually cut it, Metal put up a fight, which was quite the opposite to how Boruto had reacted— Metal just wasn't excited anymore. He hid under his arms, he shook his head when Lee even came within 10 inches of his head, he even screamed "no" in a big hissy.

Lee was at a loss. The season was getting hotter and hotter as the days went by and Metal's hair went past his chin, unruly and thick— defiantly an unfit summer hair style. Metal would roast with this mop covering his scalp. He had the bowl— that he was going to use as a mold of sorts— off to the side on the counter top, the scissors next it, both long abandoned. Metal had his little arms crossed over his chest, cheeks puffed out, and bushy brows furrowed tightly into a determined angry pount. Lee looked at his son, sitting in one of the two kitchen chairs wrapped up, quite messily from the prior struggles, in an old beat up bed sheet; he should have expected this. Metal was a timid child that ran away from things he didnt want to do, but when he wanted to be he could easily put his feet down and refuse to do something with more stubborn confidence than a bull! Lee eas told this would end after turning three but that was obviously a lie.

Lee leaned futher onto the counter, looking up to the ceiling for an answer— at least a hint of what to do would appease him. Lee scanned the uneven, very bumpy, surface above him as if it would give him any rational insight. Which was ridiculous to say the least. Its a ceiling! An inanimate object! Lee hung his head with a huff, exasperated and defeated equally. The ceiling can't so neither can his feet. This is hopeless!

"Daddy?" Metal's little voice piped up. Lee popped his head back up, seeing the little boy with sheepish eyes and a sad lip. His eyes looked bigger with slight guilt lingering in solid black. "Daddy, did I make you sad? Did I do somedin' wrong?" To reassure the boy that his troubles weren't real the older male broke out into a wide smile, although his eyes still hid worry inside— hopefully the boy couldnt read into that.

He waved the little one off, smile persistent. "No no son! I am fine!" He pushed himself off the counter ledge, straightening his posture to look more organized. "I was just thinking, don't worry." He chuckled.

Metal pushed the bed sheet further off his shoulders. "Okay. Can I go now?" Lee hung his head, defeated by his son's nonchalant manner. Metal tried his best to climbed down the chair while the sheet still stuck to his collar and wrapped around his body, however Lee stopped him midway, scooping the boy up in his arms. The younger didn't struggle out of his grasp, he only tugged at the sheet even more, ignoring his father's soft giggles. "No Metal, you are not getting out of this. Your hair is much too long now."

The three year old pouted again. The jounin loosened the bed sheet around his son's neck, keeping it tucked in his collar enough so he still couldn't pull it off easily. He lowered the boy down on the chair once again and knelt down to his level. He cocked his head to the side and stared the boy in the eyes, looking for an answer. "Metal," Said boy's face lit up at the mention of his name, expecting a stern talking to judging by the adult's steely tone. "Why do you not want to get your hair cut? I promise I will not hurt you or make you look bad."

Metal shook his head but said nothing.

"What is it that makes you so scared? Please tell me, son."

Metal looked away and pointed behind the other. Lee twisted around following the boy's finger to the pair of scissors. He reached for the sharp instrument. "These?" He held them by the blades, handle face up in the air. Metal rapidly nodded, still looking away. "Why—"

"'Cuz they hurt people! They cut open and they hurt!" It took a minute for the dotd to connect in in brain; he thought the scissors were kunai.

Lee thought back to a few weeks ago when he brought Metal along to watch him train, preparing for the start of his own training. Lee had set his tool pouch on the ground to avoid them from falling out as he did handstands— you know, to entertain the little one— however, as much of a watchfull eye he prided himself on, he made the mistake of looking away for a couple minutes. Metal had grown curious of his tool pouch and decided a kunai was a smart thing to play with. Lee, his paternal side kicking in full force, dashed for the boy to keep the sharp object out of his untrained hands. But the shock of his father coming at him with what looked like anger made the kunai slip and cut his hand. It wasnt a deep cut but it did bleed, much more than it had when he tripped and scrapped his knee running. Obviously, the little one did cry, it must of hurt much more to him than it would to Lee or any other adult. He is a child afterall.

Metal must of formed some sort of vendetta against them since then. Lee had to clear this up or else the kid could carry this mentality through life.

"Can you hold out your hands please?" Lee asked. Metal did so, not at all knowing what was happening. He was just doing what his dad told him to. Without another word Lee set the pair of scissors in Metal's palms. He thought about dropping them by the looks of it but ultimately decided not to. "These do not hurt people, son. And you definitely do not throw them! O-or run with them!" He quickly added the last bits— a fatherly lesson if you will.

"They dont?" Metal asked, a squeak in his voice. Lee shook his head. "They are for cutting hair. See," Lee took the instrument back and cut a couple of small strands of is own hair. He kept the strands in his palm and presented it to Metal. "For hair." He smiled.

Metal was still unconvinced. Lee let out sigh.

And then he got a potentially idiotic idea.

Lee carefully handed the scissors back and leaned forward, presenting a bit of his bang to Metal. "You try it! Go ahead!" He encouraged with a gleeful grin.

Metal looked at the object perplexingly. He took a hold of the handle like Lee had, trying his best to hold them with his tiny hands. Lee egged him on with a wider smile. Metal opened the mouth of the cutting tool, the older man watching closely. Lee leaned forward a couple more inches and Metal made contact with his hair. He closed the mouth and snip.

The hair strands fell gently down on the floor. The cut wasnt clean of course, more diagonal than straight, but nothing a little trimming couldn't fix. Not a big deal.

Lee was about to pull away when Metal pulled him down and he began to cut at the middle. Lee watched with horror as his hair fell, one strand after another. "M-M-M-Metal!? What are you doing!?" Lee managed to pull away while Metal hovered the scissors for a second. He covered the top of his head with his hands, panicked look as Metal's twisted into confusion.

"I was cuttin' daddy's hair." He said innocently.

Lee softened his face, leaving one hand on his head— very much fearful of the bald spot he might have now— and took the scissors back. He stood, Metal watching his every movement, and grabbed the large mixing bowl behind him. "Are you okay with these now?" Lee asked. Metal nodded, a slightly more confident look on his face. It still looked to be full of worry and fear but it seemed Metal was trying get past it. Lee smiled again and lightly nodded just before going behind his son and placing the bowl atop his head.

His shaggy black hair spilt out from the mouth, messy and tangled as usual. Lee put the scissors in his nondominate hand, blades facing away from Metal, and he took out one of the three combs he had in his back pouch. He combed through his son's hair, straightening it out. He finished it up, the ends threatening to curl upwards.

Lee got to work on neatly cutting away, leaving a neat undercut to keep his ears showing rather than to copy his own style. As Lee moved from the back to the front, Metal remained completely still and well behaved.

Bonus:

Later in the day, after neatening up his own hair, Lee took Metal out for groceries— and a new hat. He was on his way up to the counter when Tenten had spotted him and Metal, stopping them to say hi and compliment little Metal on his new haircut.

"Say Lee..." Tenten brought her attention to Lee's hair, noticing something different. "Did you get a haircut too?"

Lee rubbed at the back of his head, pushing Metal back a bit so he wouldnt point the embarrassing mess out. "W-what do you mean?" Tenten leaned in on Lee's personal space, trying to see the difference. Lee nerously sweat under her gaze.

Metal pulled on her pants leg, getting her attention. She looked down with a sweet smile, telling him to go on. "I c—"

Lee whisked him up in his arms, dropping the shopping basket full of nonperishables. "HE CAN RUN REALLY FAST NOW! BYE!"

Tenten watched the visibly panicked man run off with his son, and then it hit her. She hit the palm of her hand with her fist and said, "He has a bald spot now!" She laughed. "Guess being a dad has made him age faster, huh? Old man."

#i couldnt get the idea out of my head si here #*so #metal lee #rock lee #boruto fanfiction #long post

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tropicalfete · 7 years

Photo

New Post has been published on http://tropicalfete.com/2017/07/29/the-melo-groove-steele-orchestra-keeping-pan-culture-alive/

The Melo Groove Steele Orchestra keeping Pan Culture alive

Written by Jason Walker-

Steel Pan or steel drums were created in the Caribbean islands of Trinidad and Tobago in the early 1930s. The Steel Pan is a unique form of musical expression, but the origin of steel pan started centuries before in Africa. Africans brought the concepts of drumming and festival which would eventually evolve into Carnival when the Spanish and then British-ruled Trinidad & Tobago. There was even a period in 1877 where the British government tried to ban aspects of the Carnival. They found parts of Carnival offensive including the drumming. Drumming was mainly done by instruments made out of bamboo with stamping tubes and some metal containers and some scrap metal. By the 1930s the metal instruments dominated and we began to see what we know as today as the Steel Pan aka as the Steel Drum. The cultural form began to grow among people of color on the island. Steel Pan & Carnival even became cultural manifestations that united the African and Indian populations in Trinidad & Tobago.

In the early days of the Steel Band acceptance was not across all areas of Trinidad and Tobago society. After many evolutions, the Steel Pan Culture would, however, eventually become a national treasure, especially under the father of the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago, Sir Eric Williams. The Steel Pan was now the source of great pride for all Trinibogians. The instrument travelled throughout the Caribbean and Central America and eventually the rest of the world. Today Steel Pan groups can be found anywhere that Caribbean communities are heavily saturated. There is an organization that is helping to keep the culture growing right here in South Florida.

The organization is The Melo Groove Steele Orchestra Inc, a non-profit organization started through the inspiration of a Trinidadian who played Steel Band instruments since the age of 12 during the early decades of the Steel Pan Movement. The late Mr. Melville Esdelle (1939 – 1992) had come to Florida where he taught children how to play the Steel Pan instruments. The organization began operations in the city of Sunrise the 1st of January 2016, continuing that mission of Esdelle, affectionately called Melo. According to the organization “Melo Groove Steel Orchestra, Inc. strives to keep Melo’s dreams alive which are creating a safe structured outlet for young people to embrace the culture and to continue to elevate steel pan music,” a dream that includes teaching children and henceforth keeping the culture alive and growing.

Melo Groove Steele Orchestra’s general manager Bryan Heyliger shows that the Orchestra is a family, community, and cultural manifestation. At age 10 his daughter had gotten involved with the orchestra, which came about by the influence of her Trinidadian godfather. Heyliger’s wife soon followed after going to the practices, and eventually, Bryan Heyliger was brought in soon becoming general manager. His son also recently started playing Pan. According to Heyliger, “my Caribbean heritage comes from the small beautiful Island Federation of St. Kitts and Nevis, whereas my wife’s heritage comes from the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago. As for my daughter as the saying goes, “wherever your parents are from, that’s where you are from as well.”

Besides providing great cultural entertainment along with both mental and musical skills for youth and adults in communities throughout, the spreading of the Pan Culture is a teaching tool about the Caribbean. Heyliger accentuates this point by stating, “the views that impact one’s heritage……(are) that if we the parents fail to teach our children here in the US about our Caribbean culture we have the fear of seeing it being lost.”

Illustrating the power of family in the orchestra, Heyliger describes how he has been influenced by Esdelle, although never meeting him. “Unfortunately, I was not blessed with meeting Mr. Esdelle, however, I can definitely say that I have met him through our Grandmother (his wife) of the band, Mrs. Elaine Esdelle and I call her Ma. The passion, support, and love she displays are clearly a representation of Mr. Esdelle aka Melo”.

Within the South Florida community, the orchestra is gradually making an impact. “We have created a band with a difference. Meaning that we do not just play music for our audience, we perform for them. I have observed a strong sense of acceptance from ALL of our performances during our little over a year of being in existence. Also, we have created a family oriented environment for the children to express their talents while creating memorable milestones.” “Steel pan music has been now embraced all over the world, and, there are still platforms open to sharing this wonderful style of music. (We) make a difference by playing ALL genres.”

Existing as a Steel Pan Orchestra in the United States does have challenges. Heyliger gives us insight on this by stating, “this is a very important part of the survival of this musical art. Many bands face the challenges of practice space, funding, and exposure. If these areas can be addressed I feel that Steel Pan can be elevated at a higher rate.” The funding mainly comes from those in the orchestra’s organization, performances, food sales and donations from supporters.

Challenges there are but in a short time, this orchestra has already been able to achieve watershed moments. “One of our very huge accomplishments was placing 3rd in our first panorama competition in 2016. Melo Groove was formed in January of 2016 and played for the first time in May of 2016. So, to see how dedicated the band was to put our best foot forward for our first competition is a feeling none of us can forget. Then to have Kes himself give us props for our people arrangement was also awesome.”

The accomplishments and skills that are present with this orchestra so quickly beg the question: what will be seen in the future? “I see a Melo Groove Steel Orchestra Performing Arts Theatre. Some may say that it seems far-fetched but I know the potential of my team and it would not be impossible, just another accomplishment under our belts.”

All the above is possible because the team at Melo Groove Steel Orchestra “has created an environment that draws young people. We have also engaged musical directors that have had prior experience with teaching children. Overall, giving the young people a voice in the band and always showing them support in the band and outside of the band creates that bond.”

Heyliger credits success to the fact that “we put God first and then embrace teamwork and family values.” Currently, the orchestra is focusing on upcoming events, “we are preparing for the Houston Caribbean Festival that we were invited to take part of and after that trust me we have big plans for South Florida and even beyond. Definitely claiming the 1st place this year at Panorama. Each day and every minute Melo Groove Steel Orchestra is here to keep PAN ALIVE!”

Melo Groove consists of 15 pan players, 6 rhythm players currently. According to the Melo Groove Steel Orchestra Facebook page: “we will always aim to please our audience which consists of a variety of cultures. Our musical selections include R&B, Classical, Jazz, Reggae, Soca and more. Our goal when we perform is to engage with the audience and to leave a lasting impression.”

Treasurer Alicia Phillips contributed generously to this article.

Friday, October 6, 2017 – Miami Carnival Panorama

Competition. 8pm- 11pm

For more event locations, concert artists, list of registered Mas Bands and more information visit www.miamibrowardcarnival.com or follow on social media at-

Instagram@miabrocarnival

Twitter @miabrocarnival

Facebook-https://www.facebook.com/MiamiBrowardOneCarnival/

Sponsors for the Miami Carnival include: Greater Miami Convention and Visitors Bureau, Jet Blue, Cox Media Group, 99 Jamz, Hot 105 and “With the support of the Miami-Dade County Department of Cultural Affairs and the Cultural Affairs Council, the Miami-Dade County Mayor and Board of County Commissioners.”

#Bryan Heyliger #Eric Williams #Melo Groove Steele Orchestra Inc #Melville Esdelle #Steel Pan #Steel Pan Movement #Caribbean Cultural News

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setepenre-set · 7 years

Text

New Plan (part 2)

Megamind/Roxanne

M rating, pre-movie AU

Since Megamind made Roxanne miss her appointment to get her hair trimmed, it’s his fault that her hair keeps falling in her face. And since her hands are tied, it’s not like she can pin her hair back herself. So obviously, as she points out, it’s Megamind’s responsibility to do it for her...which would be a dream come true, if he could just. figure out. how to work a bobby pin...

AO3 | FFN

Megamind draws his de-gun as he slips silently down the roof stairs and down one of the ladders to the lower floor. Minion and the brainbots are in position for the scheduled attack, half-way across town, and Megamind hasn’t even called Metro Man out yet, so there’s no reason for anyone to be in the Lair. Probably it’s just a brainbot, back home against orders, or maybe Minion sent one to check what’s taking Megamind so long with the Cumulus Accumulator.

The new communicator watches should be working, but it’s possible they’re malfunctioning, in which case, Minion might have sent a bot—

Megamind springs out from behind the bulk of an old battlesuit, de-gun at the ready, and finds—

“What are you doing here?” he blurts out.

Metro Man whirls dramatically.

“You!” he says.

Megamind gives him an unimpressed look and keeps the de-gun trained on him (it won’t actually do anything if he shoots Metro Man with it, but he finds it reassuring anyway).

“Yeah, me,” he says sarcastically. “Wow. What a shock. I live here; what are you doing here?”

Metro Man looks shifty for a moment, and then his expression firms up into one of his looks of Heroic Determination.

“Stopping you!”

Megamind thinks fast.

(shit; the Cumulus Accumulator isn’t even close to ready; this evil plot is going nowhere; he’s going to get arrested with nothing to show for it, and it’s going to be embarrassing—)

“…stopping me from doing what?” Megamind says.

Metro Man hesitates.

“…evil,” he says, but for once, it lacks conviction.

(wait, is this lie actually working?)

“I thought we agreed,” Megamind says with a glare, “that, in exchange for me giving you fair warning for my attacks, you wouldn’t come into the Lair except during evil plots. What are you doing in my house? Wayne.” he adds, viciously, and Metro Man flinches at the use of his name.

“Okay, okay, okay!” he says, throwing his hands up, “I was bored and I heard Roxy’s voice coming from here, all right? So I’m early for the Evil Plot, I guess! You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“There isn’t any evil plot,” Megamind says quickly.

(really, the Cumulus Accumulator plan is a bust, but hopefully he can get through this without getting sent to jail)

Metro Man blinks at him, then narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“What’s Roxy doing here, then?” he asks.

(shit)

“She’s not,” Megamind says.

He holsters the de-gun, attempting nonchalance.

Metro Man’s eyes narrow further.

“I heard her voice,” he insists.

“I don’t know what you think you heard,” Megamind says. “But Miss Ritchi is not here.”

Metro Man looks at him hard for a long moment.

Megamind stares back.

For a second, Megamind thinks that his poker stare will work well enough to get rid of Metro Man. But—

“I know what I heard,” Metro Man says.

He shoves Megamind aside; Megamind stumbles a little, almost falling.

(damn; should he try to escape, or gamble on Metro Man forgetting the roof?)

“Don’t panic, Roxy! I’m here to save you!”

Hellfire and damnation. Well; there’s no way Roxanne hasn’t heard the moron bellowing for her. Megamind resigns himself to another trip to prison. She’ll shout back to Metro Man in a moment, and the gig will be up.

“Roxy! Roxy, can you hear me? Roxy, where are you?”

Megamind blinks, tips his head in confusion, then moves to follow after Metro Man.

Okay, that’s weird; why isn’t Roxanne answering? She has to have heard the hero calling for her.

(is she—she can’t be hurt and unable to answer, can she? He left her less than two minutes ago and she was fine, surely she can’t have gotten seriously injured in that short an amount of time—)

“What have you done to her?” Metro Man demands, turning on Megamind.

(I pushed her hair out of her face and made her laugh, Megamind thinks.)

“Nothing,” he says. “I haven’t done anything to her. Notice how she’s not here.”

Metro Man stops in the middle of the (clearly Miss-Ritchi-less) Lair, an expression of confusion on his face.

(yes, yes; good—)

“The roof!”

(damn it)

Megamind glances at the exit; it’s reasonably close; he might be able to make it if he bolts suddenly—

Metro Man seizes his arm in a tight grip, then yanks him off his feet as they fly up the staircase to the roof. Megamind tries to twist away, to absolutely no avail.

God damn it; he came so close to getting away with—

“—Roxy?” Metro Man says.

Megamind looks around the roof, blinking in confusion.

There’s the Cumulus Accumulator, and his tools, and there’s Roxanne’s chair. But Roxanne is nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?” Metro Man says.

“—how am I supposed to know? I told you she’s not here!”

He tries to pull his arm away again; this time it works. Megamind glares at Metro Man and straightens the high points of his collar.

“…oh,” says Metro Man.

He looks at the Cumulus Accumulator, and again an expression of suspicion comes over his face.

“What’s that?” he asks.

Megamind’s lip curls.

“Broken,” he says. “I brought it up here to fix it because it’s a nice day and I wanted to enjoy the weather. Is that all right with you, hero?”

“…oh,” says Metro Man again.

There’s a long awkward silence. Megamind uses it to think furiously about where Roxanne might be.

(she must have escaped while he was gone, then slipped down the stairs and out of the Lair while he was talking to Metro Man. odd that she didn’t wait for her boyfriend to rescue her, but…maybe she’s annoyed with him? that comment she made about ‘what boyfriend’; maybe they’re fighting?)

“…I really thought I heard her voice,” Metro Man says sheepishly.

“Uh-huh,” Megamind says, “Yeah. You mentioned.”

Another awkward silence ensues.

“So, uh,” Metro Man says, “where’s Minion and your little robots?”

“Minion took the brainbots out for some exercise,” Megamind lies smoothly. “They get bored without anything to do.”

Metro Man laughs in a would-be chummy way.

“Ha, ha; yeah—I’ve been really bored, lately, too, you know, and—”

“—and so you decided to harass me for entertainment,” Megamind says, voice caustic. “Tell me, have you ever thought about getting a hobby?”

Metro Man opens his mouth, probably to protest, then closes it again, looking thoughtful.

“A hobby,” he says, eyes suddenly far away. “I could—I could get a hobby. That could be—fun. Right? That could be fun! What kind of hobby?”

(I don’t actually care? Megamind refrains from saying. Why would I care?)

“Take up golf,” he suggests at random, “Start a stamp collection. Learn an instrument. Please go away.”

“—an instrument,” Metro Man says, eyes lighting up. “I did always want to learn to play the guitar—”

“Fantastic,” Megamind says. “That’s great. Start right away. Go. Go now.”

“Yeah—yeah! Hey, thanks, buddy!” Metro Man says, grinning happily, “I owe you one!”

“…yes,” Megamind agrees, “yes, you do. And also you owe me for breaking our agreed-upon rules and breaking into the Lair during a non-evil-plot time, so that’s two more Get Out of Jail Free cards or equivalent favors that you owe me now, yeah, okay, ciao!”

Metro Man flies off at last and Megamind sags with relief.

The moron didn’t notice the ropes Roxanne left behind with her chair. Or—

Megamind bends and picks up the bobby pin from the rooftop.

So that’s where it landed.

He twirls the little piece of metal between his thumb and forefinger and sighs, rubbing his other hand over his face.

Well. Today is definitely a loss.

He shouldn’t be so completely disappointed that Roxanne has disappeared; there’s a silver lining to this: Metro Man owes him two favors now, and he didn’t have to go to jail! But—

His mouth twists and he curls his fingers over the pin. Stupid. Just because she happened to let him touch her without screaming, his idiotic brain thought they were having a nice time together.

As though she could ever be having a nice time, with him around. Of course she took the first opportunity to escape.

He glares at the Cumulus Accumulator as though it’s to blame for his ridiculous feelings. He’s done trying to fix the damn thing, he decides. He’ll take it apart for scraps; he doesn’t need it. He’s got plenty of smoke machines, and he can come up with a different way to produce homemade lightning.

Megamind moves down the stairs, then climbs down the ladder into the empty Lair, Roxanne’s pin still in his hand. He sighs again, then jumps as the watch on his wrist crackles to life.

“Sir?” Minion’s voice comes through loud and clear. (At least something he built works, Megamind thinks bitterly.) “Is everything going all right? The brainbots are getting a little antsy—”

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel the Evil Plot for today, Minion,” Megamind says, “The Cumulus Accumulator is completely nonfunctional.”

“—oh, no. I’m sorry, Sir,” Minion says. “I can hold the brainbots a little longer if you want to try to fix it—”

“No, no,” Megamind says, walking towards his bedroom, “no point. Miss Ritchi already escaped and then Metro Man showed up.” He opens his bedroom door.

“You already fought Metro Man?” Minion says, sounding concerned.

“No,�� Megamind says, closing the bedroom door behind himself and pulling off his cape and shoulder guards. “No, I put him off. I pretended that there wasn’t any evil plan for today. And since Miss Ritchi had already disappeared, he believed me.”

“—Sir, Miss Ritchi—”

“—knows the location of the Lair now, yes,” Megamind says. “Unfortunately.”

“We’re going to have to move, aren’t we?”

Megamind grimaces.

“Possibly not,” he says. “There’s a chance I may be able to—strike a bargain with her. Certain no-kidnapping-allowed days in exchange for her silence about the location of Evil Lair, something like that…she is always complaining about the disturbances to her schedule, so that might be sufficient—I’ll approach her about it tomorrow.”

“The brainbots and I will head home, Sir,” Minion says.

“No,” Megamind says, remembering his lie, “I told Metro Man that you took them out for exercise; there’s a chance he’ll be checking up on that—take them to the old strip mine and let them play. And you—you relax too, Minion. You deserve a break.”

“What are you going to do, Sir?”

Megamind puts Roxanne’s hair pin down on the bedside table and rubs a hand over his face again.

“—I think I might take a nap,” he says tiredly.

“Really, Sir?” Minion sounds far too excited about this. “That’s good; I told you this morning, you haven’t been sleeping enough—”

“—which is probably why the Cumulus Accumulator wound up a piece of useless junk,” Megamind says. “Yes, yes, I know. I’ll take a nap. You take care of the brainbots.”

“You got it, Sir!”

Megamind breaks the connection, then turns the communicator off entirely. He unstraps it from his wrist and tosses it down on the bedside table, next to—

Roxanne’s pin.

Damn it. Damn his stupid heart.

(a full sense memory of what it felt like, touching her hair, sweeps through him, making his entire body flush hot.)

He takes his de-gun from its holster and puts it on the bedside table, too, then sits on the edge of his bed and pulls off his boots, tosses them into the corner. Twisting his arms behind his back, he unzips his shirt, and peels it off.

He isn’t wearing his protective undersuit today; he was running late this morning and forgot it. He almost forgot his boots, too, actually, and he nearly poked his own eye out, trying to apply his eyeliner in a hurry; that was what prompted Minion’s comment about his sleep schedule.

Definitely a good thing he got rid of Metro Man without a fight today. And he really should sleep…

He tosses his shirt onto the floor and lies back on the mattress, fingers trailing idly up and down his own torso.

—Roxanne’s face, tilted up to his, laughter in her eyes and that beautiful, fascinating curve to her mouth as she smiled—the texture of her skin beneath his fingertips and the silkiness of her hair as he brushed it aside—like he—like would have done if he’d been about to lean down to kiss her—

…maaaybe he doesn’t need to sleep right away.

The motion of his fingertips brushing over his own abdomen slows. He bites his lip, torn between guilt and wanting.

He’ll—he might sleep better anyway, if he—

“Hey, Megamind, sorry but—”

Megamind screams and launches himself out of the bed; trips over his own feet and lands hard in a sprawl on the floor at Roxanne’s feet.

Roxanne, who is here. Roxanne who is in his bedroom. Roxanne who is standing with her hand still on the handle of the closet door, half in and half out of the closet still, looking down at him.

“—uh,” she says.

Megamind makes an extremely undignified noise, a sort of strangled screech.

“WHAT?! YOU—WHAT?!” he manages.

Roxanne stares at him for a long moment, neither of them moving—and then she claps a hand over her mouth as she breaks into a peal of laughter.

“Oh—oh my god—” she says. “Oh my god; I’m so sorry—”

“—what!—what—are you—what are you doing in my bedroom?!”

“Well, I…got lost,” Roxanne says, waving a hand, “after I got out of the ropes, and I heard you talking to Metro Man, so I hid.”

She shrugs dismissively, as if hiding in a supervillain’s bedroom closet is an entirely reasonable thing to do.

Megamind makes a small, choked noise and attempts locate his shirt.

(Roxanne! is in his bedroom! and he’s half naked and he wants to die oh god oh god)

“Now you know how it feels when people break into your house and jump out at you, Megamind,” Roxanne says, amusement in her voice.

Megamind, struggling to turn his shirt right-side out, looks up at her in outrage and then promptly forgets how to speak.

(Roxanne is in his bedroom and he’s shirtless and and there’s too much of his skin on display she’s looking at him like that and smiling and how is he supposed to function?)

“—I have—never jumped out of your bedroom closet at you, Miss Ritchi!” he manages to say, after his mouth opens and closes a few times like he’s a non-sentient fish. “That was—just—uncalled for!”

Roxanne laughs again, her eyes still on him, and ah, yes, this is it; this is how he dies.

“I see now why you’re always trying to get me to scream,” she says, smirking at him. “That was fun.”

Megamind feels his face go hot so fast he ends up dizzy. Oh god; he’s blushing all the way down his entire torso; he can feel it.

“Yes, yes,” he mutters, still desperately attempting to sort out his shirt, “I screamed. That’s what—we mere mortals tend to do when someone leaps out at us from our bedroom closet without warning; we can’t all have nerves of steel like you!”

“My my, Megamind,” Roxanne drawls in a voice like sex and honey. “Did you just call me a goddess?”

He looks up at her, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. She’s still smirking at him, but there’s a wicked edge to it now that he’s never seen before and—

“—‘mere mortals’,” she says, raising her eyebrows and shit, oh shit, he did say that, didn’t he?

He makes a small, terrified sound in the back of his throat and scrabbles blindly for the sleeves of his shirt, unable to look away from Roxanne, from her looking down on him, and suddenly he’s terribly conscious of the fact that he’s on his knees in front of her.

“Maybe you should leave it,” Roxanne says, her eyes fixed on his.

“Wh—what—?”

“The shirt,” Roxanne says, still not breaking his gaze. “You seem to be struggling an awful lot with it; maybe you should leave it off.”

Megamind’s jaw drops.

Did—did she seriously just suggest—?

The shirt falls from his suddenly numb fingers.

Roxanne takes a sharp little breath when the fabric slithers to the floor, and for a moment they just stay like that, perfectly still, Megamind on his knees staring up at Roxanne; Roxanne looking down at him.

“Did you mean it, when you said that I was pretty, Megamind?” Roxanne asks softly.

Megamind’s heart jumps in his chest like lightning.

“—beautiful,” he says, voice shaking. “Didn’t—say pretty. I—said beautiful.”

Roxanne’s lips curve slowly upwards, eyes going warm with something that looks like pleasure.

“And did you mean it?” she asks.

Megamind swallows. His skin feels like it’s on fire and he couldn’t look away from Roxanne now if he tried.

(he doesn’t want to try. he never wants to look away from her. he never wants to see anything else.)

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I meant it.”

Roxanne’s expression goes gloriously triumphant; in the half-second it takes her to cross the distance between them, Megamind thinks disjointedly that he’s never seen her look more like an evil queen.

The pin he put in her hair glints in the light and then her hands are on his face and she’s leaning down and—

His first thought is that he’s dreaming.

Well—actually—his second thought is that he’s dreaming. His first thought, as Roxanne presses her lips to his, is a hot, chaotic surge of yes/please/more.

His third thought is that he can’t possibly be dreaming because no matter how magnificent his brain is, it could never come up with anything even close to this.

He brings his hands up to Roxanne’s shoulders and clings to her and tries desperately to respond, to give her what she wants, whatever she wants, if only she’ll just keep kissing him a little longer.

Incredibly, she does, her mouth sweet and slick and hot over his. She pulls him to his feet, still kissing him, her hand beneath his chin as she parts his lips with her tongue and licks into his mouth and Megamind’s knees are so weak that he can barely stand. Roxanne presses forward, pushing him, and he steps backwards in response. The backs of his knees hit the foot of the bed and Roxanne pushes him.

He tumbles backwards onto the bed, sprawled out in front of her, looking up at her in shock.

Her mouth is red and she licks her lips, eyes raking up his body and Megamind can’t stop himself from whimpering.

She moves forward again, onto the bed, knees on the mattress between his legs and Megamind scrabbles back automatically because oh god oh god—

“Ah-ah-ah,” she says, pushing him down on the bed, catching his wrists in her hands and pinning them to the mattress above his head. “Stay.”

“Oh god,” Megamind gasps, and this must be the response Roxanne was looking for, because her lips curl up into that predatory smirk again, the one that twists his insides up and makes his spine feel like it’s turned to liquid.

Roxanne looks at him for a moment, hands holding his wrists in place, and he could break her grasp easily, but—oh god Roxanne telling him stay in that tone; he can’t—

She lets go of his wrists and sits up, looking incredibly pleased with herself, and Megamind shivers and leaves his arms over his head, his hands where she pressed them to the bed.

“Good boy,” she says, and Megamind gulps, feeling his skin flush even hotter than before.

Roxanne looks him up and down and he has to press his wrists hard to the mattress to keep himself from squirming on the bed, to keep himself from turning away from her gaze.

God—oh god—he’s never been—looked at, before, like this; it’s hard to bear, really, having Roxanne look at him when he’s—this aroused.

He can feel his heartbeat throbbing between his legs; the sensitive skin of his throat and shoulders feels hot and achy with how much he wants Roxanne to touch him there. His ears are on fire, his heartbeat throbbing there as well, and his nipples are hard and straining, which feels horribly embarrassing.

Roxanne reaches down and rolls one between her fingers.

Megamind hears himself make an inhuman sound; his hips jerk up and his back arches.

Roxanne makes a noise of satisfaction and bends down to press her lips to his chest and Megamind makes another of those alien sounds; a whirring in the back of his throat.

She kisses her way down his chest, open-mouthed kisses that make him pant—god, the heat of her mouth; he feels like he’s melting on her tongue. She kisses his hipbone, then slides the tip of her tongue along the edge of it and Megamind cries out, pushing his wrists hard into the mattress to stop himself from reaching for her because she told him to stay—

“—w-wait,” he manages to gasp out.

Roxanne looks up at him, an inquiring expression on her face.

(god, what is he doing, stopping her; is he insane? he’s wanted this, wanted her, for years. but—)

“—it’s not that I’m not sincerely appreciative of—um—but I really think you need to take a moment to consider what you’re doing right now, Miss Ritchi, because if you don’t I suspect you’re really going to regret it and I’d much prefer that you—”

Roxanne frowns.

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

Megamind squeezes his eyes shut momentarily for strength.

“I mean, I’m assuming based on the comment you made about—Metro Man—earlier, and the fact that you hid from him after escaping, that you’re maybe a little annoyed with him at the moment, but—he is—your boyfriend, Miss Ritchi, and—”

Roxanne sits up, frown deepening.

“Wait, hold on—” she says. “You still think…?”

“—I—I just don’t want you to hate me,” Megamind says in a small voice, “m-more than you already do, I mean—”

“Hate you?” Roxanne says, sounding baffled. “Megamind, what—and—and didn’t we—didn’t we already have the whole—boyfriend conversation?”

“…boyfriend? conversation?” Megamind says.

“Yeah, when you said something about my ‘boyfriend’ and I said ‘what boyfriend’, because I…don’t have…a boyfriend? Oh my god,” she says, “Did—did you really not get that?”

(she’s not dating…?)

“—okay, but the concern about you regretting this still stands if you’re doing it to get back at him after a break up,” Megamind spits out, the words like poison in his mouth, but he can’t let her—he doesn’t want to be something Roxanne is going to regret.

“Oh, no,” Roxanne says, passing a hand over her face for a moment, “oh—Megamind, no. You are—entirely off base with the—Wayne and I didn’t break up, okay? We were never dating in the first place.”

Megamind stares at her.

“What,” he says flatly.

“I—I thought— You didn’t…? I thought you at least suspected,” Roxanne says, gesturing a little wildly. “All of the sarcastic remarks about him being my ‘boyfriend’, and—”

“What.”

“Oh god, no wonder I could never get you to make a move, no matter how hard I flirted!” Roxanne says.

Megamind feels like his eyes are going to fall out of his head, they’re so wide.

“…how hard you flirted?” he croaks.

“Uh, yeah,” Roxanne says, “did—did you not notice the flirting?!”

“—I mean, I always figured it was an assertion of dominance thing,” Megamind says, stunned. “That’s—usually what it is, when people pretend to flirt with me. That, or they’re trying to get something from me…”

“Oh my god,” Roxanne says. “Pretending to flirt? Megamind—I have never pretended to flirt with you.” Her eyes go round with horror. “Oh, no—is—is that what you were doing? Pretending—the—assertion of dominance—”

“No!” Megamind blurts out. “No, I—no. I never—I never pretended, either,” he says, heart beating hard against his ribs.

Roxanne looks at him, face still uncertain.

“I told you,” he says, “I—I meant it.”

Roxanne bites her lip and Megamind feels his face heat again. He glances away awkwardly.

“…I was really going for the whole smooth seduction thing, here, but I think I missed,” Roxanne says.

Megamind looks at her once more; she’s smiling crookedly, a blush on her cheekbones, too. It’s unreasonably gorgeous.

“I’m not—um—not averse—” Megamind gulps, “—to—b-being seduced.”

Roxanne’s smile goes shy and surprised—oh—oh; she’s too—she’s too beautiful—

“I’m just—not really sure why you’re doing this?” Megamind says, and then wants to bite his own tongue off.

(why is he asking questions; Roxanne is in his bedroom, in his bed, offering to seduce him and Megamind has to start asking questions like an idiot)

“Didn’t we—? I told you,” Roxanne says, frowning a little, “I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

(and that doesn’t make sense, but he needs to stop asking questions before she changes her—)

“Yes, but why?” Megamind asks, unable to stop his voice from rising in his complete and utter bafflement. “You don’t like me!”

Roxanne stares at him, looking taken aback.

(and there it went; he’s ruined it, she’s—)

“I don’t flirt with people I don’t like, Megamind,” she says slowly. “I—don’t you get—?”

Megamind, still on his back looking up at her, shakes his head wildly in denial of what he is hearing.

“…okay,” she says, “okay, um—let’s just shelve the question of—seduction for a minute and—”

Megamind flinches.

“Could you just—come here? Please?” Roxanne says.

He sits up slowly, carefully, watching Roxanne warily. She bites her lip and reaches out to take both of his hands in hers. Megamind’s hands jerk involuntarily at the unexpected contact and Roxanne laces their fingers together. She looks down at their joined hands and takes a breath, then looks up at him.

“I really like you, Megamind,” she says, looking nervous but determined. “I have for a long time. You’re—fun to be around and you’re smart and you’re so genuinely sweet and you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re—staring at me and this is probably really weird and out of nowhere for you; I should have thought this out better, but god, I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages and you said you thought I was pretty and so I just—”

“—beautiful.”

“—what?”

“I told you,” Megamind says, scarcely aware of what he’s saying, “I didn’t say pretty. I said beautiful.”

Roxanne’s eyes go wide; she looks more than nervous, now; she actually looks almost afraid.

“—I really want to date you,” she blurts out.

...to be continued.

#megamind #fanfiction #megamind/roxanne #new plan #megamind dreams

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libramoon2 · 7 years

Text

[evening dionysian]

working title: [evening dionysian]

Dancers dance musicians play Enchanting sylph narrates stories while seductively moving to sinuous back beat, tick of chimes. Occasionally emphasizes subtle percussions with intense expressions, leaps, cunning stumbles, falling to crawl into spellbound speech. Scheherazade myths, archetypal passion escapades, poignant weeps, salient shouts to power. Exquisite meditations on mystic climes, spirit and form. Merry masks, sparkly costumes, paint and glitter as embellishment to the tellings. Theater as intimate ritual. Anything could manifest.

Pisces murky androgeny Libra emits graceful beauty Scorpio at home in passion Deeply attractive Complicated self-hatred urging service and demeaning. At core strong self-belief expressed intuitively. Stories from the collective well, mystic ether, imbued in earth, exhaled by flames. Centering, sense memory trances exhibits as sinuous performance.

This world is ending …

Even happy families share dissonance, complex histories, emotional triggers. Happy families learn to thrive, profound mutual respect as guide, resort to good humor for smoother passage. Why fight, divide strength from where it is better spent? Folk who pull together by choice rejoice in shared communion.

Outside self-circumscribed worlds Diverse perception of views Sight with wide spectra of hues

She heard him crying, a lost child in the night. In her prophetic heart she knew only she could comfort him. But she was only a child who was never allowed to be lost. How could she comfort this lost boy when she had no freedom to reach out? Late in quiet dark, after her people, asleep, would not be checking on her, she opened her window and made daring escape. Wandering in the outside dark, she listened for his cries. At first she discerned wind among leaves and branches, small creature forays, clash of metal against pavement, perfumed strains from afar. Then, yes, whimpers, ragged rhythm past exhausted weeping. He was huddled, hidden, on the alley side of a cold brick building. Seeing him, frightened, lost, she did not know what to say. He smelled of rancid sweat and fear. She did not know how to speak. She cried. She emptied herself of every caustic tear, every regret held for guilty ransom, every sadness kept inside so no one would fuss. He looked up at her watery face and asked with amazed concern: “Are you lost, too? Because if we are lost together, really we have found each other. We don’t have to stay scared and alone.” She looked around, realized that in al her blind wandering she had lost her way. She had no idea where they were. She knelt beside him. They smiled and hugged. For that precious while they became beloved kin. Perhaps some special night they’ll meet again.

Mythy visions to transcribe; thought fragments to form. Myths we live, and how to rewrite them.

She knows she has awakened. Every effort of her body pinches, aches, demands refuge in self-talk, reason, mental override of pain. Carefully, she measures out tools of destruction, what she must carry in her pack into the city, to her place of destiny. Doing what one can to make sense, have meaning. Life is short, ugly, pointless, unless you get that call. Trying to act cool with familiar friends, laying low, hiding from everything that doesn’t allow relevant existence for dregs like us. Recognition? Commendation? A scrap of real notice? To sacrifice this humorless joke to Godly cause, that’s got to be imbued with meaning, to be holy. How not find zealous courage, so dishonor numbing a drug, one point of focus. All my sins, my impoverishments, inadequacies, forgiven in ultimate atonement. God can love me. I am made pure in His sight. A tool, a weapon, no matter how lowly, bestowed sacred purpose in this great fight. My parents, my kin, vindicated, their suffering denied nobility avenged. Cleansed in adventure’s icy plunge, only ever young in throes of romance, a chance for breathless rush of brief immortality.

. question everything accept or reject with clear awareness and flexibility

. purity of essence is to will one thing

. She didn’t like her skin. So hard to blend in. She didn’t like her body, jutting awkwardly, too bulky, not compliant to conscious control. She ached to let her spirit free from matter’s burden, to ooze out onto open air. Her envisioned wish took her to aerial glee, and no more. “What would I see, outside of eyes, no biological boundaries?” Her attention, turned to this yearn for omniscient sight, was caught, held strong and seduced. Ever present, ever expanding through every crevice of her consciousness, she became inured to matter’s inadequacies. She desired entirely. No one could reach her, though no one tried. She trance-walked through her duties and habits with none to notice any lack of aliveness, lack of any impish spark within her eyes. Self-consumed, obsessed, absorbed in apotheosis, physical possibilities no longer matter. Her spirit no longer held to this room, this body. Blind to her unseeing world, enraptured in unfiltered light, colors far beyond our rainbow.

. A brave and learned man hired out to guide a motley assortment through a narrow, rocky passage to a settlement in need of laborers. At this time, he was a stranger to settlers and these prospective immigrants. He had an idea of joining their project, but felt nag of doubt enough to only commit as far as hiring out for specified work and pay. This Job – this man who gave his name as Job – was curious, clever, aloof because caught up in thoughts complex, calculating, critical, cynical, contemplative, entertaining. He spoke as necessary for terse communication. He listened as if a subtle etching of rain on sand. He sucked in sounds and all their meaning to nourish his chattering brain. Though his behavior, demeanor, presentment appeared distancing, others tended to respect his leadership, his abilities. Even those who mocked or boisterously complained in private camaraderie in which he did not join agreed that he bested them at coming through. After their passaging, safely gathered at the settlement, words and gestures of gratitude lauded upon him were spontaneous and sincere. As settlers and new arrivals met together to discuss their common project, ask questions, give opinions, figure out teams and chores, Job continued his passage. Busy in their plans and adaptations, no one noticed him disappear.

. Capture my imagination Take me for a ride self-discipline, acknowledge without judging

Philip, he so tired, exhausted, can’t bear the nattering. Silly people, spew of soft-heart advice. Stupidly happy people, smug in their hugs and white smiles. Philip recedes into deep, dark hate – so mired and convoluted spirals down his mind. Lethargic impulses, held back, kicked down, pounded to weakness as he grew in twists and turns. “Don’t look at me.” He hears his silence scream. Horrid beast snarls, whimpers. Philip aches to hide from his own mind, beastly child whining, cringing around cutting steel for comfort. Snappy, happy babblers burst like saliva balloons, insult, annoy. “Don’t speak to me. Don’t daintily pretend you understand; oh so precious extended hands, limpid eyes question, judge, sentence to demented status. “I am fine, or will be when you all leave me alone. Ignore my retreat into secure solitary recrimination, whip lash of vengeful sin. You know you don’t really want to be let in, to feel the wrath I am. Scatter, you flesh-covered delusions who choose to disturb my sleep, my darling nightmares’ stomping victory. You clearly don’t need my input to be complete. Complete fools – go do your better things. Enjoy your day. I’ve no more to say, to share.” Aloud? Allowed? He allows himself to voice complaint aloud. And the folk crowd ebbs out beyond his self-fixed point. “Express your truth,” he silently affirms. People may listen.

Imbibe trance Fall into story Record intimately

Become one story Imbibe trance intimately Record while falling

face shifter. story spinner. dervish zeitgeist possessed. defined by shades, by shadows, by negation.

Sammy scary loco crazy. They say he got the paranoid schizophrenia. What he got is commandos tracking his thoughts, grinning. Party of demons who been with him, telling him what to do, clever talk when he needs to answer some fool. He’s got my nightmares, but can’t shake them awake. No one wants to listen to me or him when we say what’s real. They want us to be kids, whatever that is. They want us to make them feel alive in their self-comforting fantasies about responsibilities. What is Sammy responsible for or to? Because he suffers disability, because he can’t break through Hell’s circles, flames of purity. I walked from Hell. My mind still burns. I am strong, a born survivor. He survives as he can. Is that weakness, or alternative dimensions habitated? I am amazing, mobile, continuing, sensibly explaining, harmoniously relating, conversing like a pro. I struggle. I hurt, it feels unbearably. I work until I want to scream, become explosive screaming. I stifle, call up mania to work on. Efforts only I applaud – amazing me! Nothing spectacular to entice the jaded they. Sammy is spectacular. I am seriously amazing. I won’t let them blind me.

. They walk in and out of patterns, broad swath of night. No designated home; no one has to accept them. They walk. Dust, dirt, soot, effluvia collect, protect in the sense of repel. In safe dark none encounter to harass. Those alive by day buried in bed. They walk without notice or plan. This is their closest approach to sleep, hypnotic glide through distance. Landscape undifferentiated by visible presentation. Footsteps feel clearly what comes under, it seems by instinct — or possibly familiarity. They walk on perhaps forever with no where to stop. Pit stops. Beg for food or find leavings. Play merry fool, eyes gleaming, lips voice hands form expressive grand soliloquies, hoped fee implied (implored). Sustenance they afford varies by mood of kindness, unswayed by desperation. Exhaustion only dulls, removes any attractive shine. As air blows colder, nights freeze over, they seem to dissolve into neverwere. Empty shadow, haunted tingle bereft of cause. “They were never us, nothing like us.” Unspoken song bears rhythms of walking unseen.

She awoke in a body, young, womanly, driving consciousness on hold somewhere like dreamless sleep. It was her occasional brief invasion to feel in touch with mortal concerns. She is to be a bride, again. Foolish, innocent yet of so many regrets and betrayals to come. She is ready to exult in the veil and it symbolic lift. Happy to perform, darling of her audience of familiars. Happy day, swept clean of trepidations, of all yesterdays and their burdensome effluvia. Today is always hers. These ceremonies, traditional duties and pleasures, bind her to cults, cultures, accumulated lore and intuition. Not creature, but weaver – still she is inseparable from the story. Today she again assumes bridehood. Tonight, awash in festivities, again she removes her spell of possession. This new bride returns to a familiar world, changed. No longer civil child nor spiritual supplicant, she has ascended. People see her differently, treat her with more deference, more distance even as they proclaim her their precious chosen intimate, ply her with cherished secrets as if her allegiance would add value. Her bearing carries an air, an enhanced spirit, a subtle awareness, unspoken by any inner voicing. Language is a human art.

Gathered on picnic table benches behind the home, hot in sunshine. Karen explains, fact by fact, how Gus became her inseparable soul. They beam together. He gives consoling hand to shoulder as she grieves children left with their father, her ex’s condemnation, stern paternal assertion of power. Saving his kin from this unrepentant whore. Karen cries, again – unrehearsed habit. She carries sadness; leaks occur. Gus hardly speaks. His troubled eyes, weary stance, gentle pull and pass of their pint bottle as he glances with deep countenance to each face around is eloquent conversation. Sweat smells, condensed alcohol, burnt tobacco, drying shit from local dogs, passing fumes from the road out front, all permeate, help set the mood. They treat the stranger in their midst as a friend of long acquaintance, just another straggly member of a morphing crew. “Ain’t we all strangers of long acquaintance – everybody a wrapping of layers, appearing in colored bits along our drowsy companionship. Strange friends, welcome distractions, smoky mirrors that let us see as we discern.” Bonnie and Denise giggle at Big Dan’s pedantic speech. They solicit contributions for their liquor store expedition. Enough gets thrown in to make it a go. Go, girls. We’ll be waiting, celebrating what we can because here we are.

#short takes #flashes of vision #theatre of imagination

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