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sanguineterrain · 3 years

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Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner.

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.”

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.”

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.”

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly.

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.”

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter.

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even.

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter.

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment.

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours.

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.”

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look.

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you.

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.”

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you.

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?”

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.”

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you.

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table.

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?”

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons.

“Yeah. We always do.”

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore.

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.”

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table.

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone.

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week.

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home.

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you.

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye.

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening.

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

#bucky barnes x reader #1940s bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #kas9kwc #repost for those of you who asked <3

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ilguna · 3 years

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Redamancy - Epilogue (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing.

wc; 1.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

There’s a certain sensation of satisfaction that goes through you while watching your brothers and sister dance together. How they’ll jump, and twirl, and light up when the music changes to one that they’re particularly good at dancing to. It’s good to see them so carefree. For once, the weight seems to have lifted off their shoulders.

You smile to yourself.

You’ve spent months preparing for today, picking out flowers, tasting different cakes you might like, choosing a venue and how the decoration will be. Not to mention all the rehearsals, like the dancing and walking down the aisle. And it’s all finally paid off. The stress of planning a wedding is completely gone, you’ll never have to do this again, because you and Finnick agreed on forever.

He’s officially yours, whether he likes it or not.

You watch as Reed offers his hand to Alyssum to take, so that he can twirl her and dance in a circle. Before she can take the offer, Mox sweeps in and places his hand in Reed’s. For a moment, Reed’s face twists, but soon they’re laughing loudly. Mox gets twirled, and they dance to the traditional music in District Four. As soon as their turn is over, they invite Alyssum in, where she’s practically thrown around.

Her giggles make your heart flutter. Alyssum’s face turns a light shade of red, trying to keep on her feet. Everyone turns the other direction, and she seems to pick up the beat better. During the dance lessons, she had picked it up a lot easier than your brothers had. With practice, they got better, but Alyssum was naturally good at following the complicated steps.

Surrounding them are all of your friends from District Four. Annie and Mags are together with Anchor, in their own little circle. They might not be perfect, but they’re definitely making the most of what they know. Sometimes Mags will pause and hold onto Anchor from how hard she’s laughing, wrinkles appearing in the corner of her eyes.

Naida and all of her kids are here. Calandra stands off to the side with Amon and Naida--her parents--watching as Caspian tries to entertain his younger brothers. They want to dance, and then they want to play tag, and then they want to sit down and have more cake. It’s hard to keep track of them, since there’s three of them, and only one of him.

And the rest of the people at your wedding are loose friends known from high school, people like Mayor Burrula and his twin sons, or formalities. Naturally, you had to invite Luther and Scotch. Miraculously, they both decided to show up together, Scotch looks like he’s having fun, even if he’s spent most of his time sitting with Luther.

You play with a pure white napkin in your hand, folding it into a numerous amount of shapes while watching everyone. Somehow, it’s more exciting sitting off to the side, seeing the reactions of friends and family. Instead of actually partaking in the memory-making. You think that you’ve contributed to it enough today, considering that you’re the one that got married.

And almost like he can read your mind, Finnick shows up. He’s missing his suit jacket, you can imagine that he decided to throw it over the back of a chair because of how hot it is tonight. You were smart and laid out a separate dress, one shorter and not long-sleeved for the banquet. You knew that it would be hot tonight, and you didn’t want to spend the entire night fanning yourself.

He’s got his sleeves bunched up at his elbows, a button undone at the top, and a few curls out of place. There’s a giddy smile on his face as he comes closer. In his hands is the rose pink wine bottle that President Snow sent you two. You’re not sure how it happened, but word traveled to him, and he sent the bottle as a congratulations.

“You look like you’re having fun.” Finnick jokes, pulling out a chair and sitting in front of you. He shoves the cork remover into the wood, twisting it a few times before he pulls it out.

There’s two empty glasses that he pours the wine into. It comes out a pink color, too. When you lift it to your nose to smell, it’s sugary. Almost reminds you of the Ritchson Sibling’s drink at The Victory Speech. You and Finnick clink your glasses together before taking a small sip. The wine is almost irresistible, easy to drink the entire thing when it’s so sweet.

“I am, I promise,” you tell him, “I just like watching them like this.”

Finnick looks over his shoulder slightly to see what’s happening now. The group has opened up wider, allowing Caspian and the three boys to dance with them. It’s more chaotic than it was before, with the boys trying to keep up with the others. Still, they all seem to be having fun.

“It’s probably a relief, huh?” Finnick looks back at you.

You give him a warm smile, “Yeah, for all of us, I think. They don’t have to worry about me anymore. I have you, I’m going to be okay.” you pause for a second, “Alyssum on the other hand…”

Alyssum’s the next to worry over, and it’s only getting more the closer she gets to eligibility. Just a few more years and she can go into the Hunger Games. She’s already doing well inside of the boarding school, but you’re worried that you’re going too slow. And then you worry about her childhood and whether or not you’re going too fast.

You can’t win at this. You want her to be prepared, you don’t want her to live her life in fear and preparation for something that may never happen. Although, you never saw your reaping coming. You thought that you had gone through enough in your life, and you were still chosen.

“It’s going to be like this forever.” Finnick says, “Reapings, mentoring, coming home. Until the both of us have someone to replace us.”

“It’s going to be a while.” you tell him.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t look forward to it. There’s a lot that I can’t wait for.” Finnick takes a sip of his wine.

“Like what?” You ask, eyebrows drawing in slightly.

“Too many to name.” Finnick waves it off, “I’ll forget some.”

“I guess you should start a list, then?”

It’s a joke, but Finnick sits there and thinks about it for a second, “Sure.”

You open your mouth, and then close it. Finnick reaches over towards one of the wedding notepads on the table. At the top has both of your names, as if someone will try and take one of these and bring them home as a souvenir. The only real reason you bought little things like this is because you have a lot of money that’s built up, despite using a good portion of it towards the boarding school.

Finnick picks up a black pen, and then writes at the top, ‘The Forever List’.

He doesn’t hesitate to get started.

The Forever List.

1. Marry the love of my life.

2. Be there for her.

3. Attend her family’s weddings.

4. Have kids.

5. One boy/one girl.

7. Watch them grow.

8. None of them get reaped.

9. See them get married.

10. Have grandchildren.

11. Grow old with the love of my life.

“Looks like you can cross one of them off.” you place your finger on the first one.

“Looks like you’re right.” Finnick gives you a cheeky grin.

He doesn’t cross it off, instead he stars it and off to the right, places today’s date. You stare at it for a couple of seconds. They’re all long-term goals, obviously. And some of them are vague, like ‘Be there for her’, since there’s no set time when that’ll happen. You guess he could star it when something hard happens between you two. Other than that, you’re not entirely sure.

Finnick then folds the paper into a small, neat square. He stands from where he was sitting, and holds out his hand towards you, “One more dance, Missus Odair?”

You give him a grin, taking his hand, “Don’t mind if I do, Mister Gallows.”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

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#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair redamancy #redamancy #redamancy epilogue

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

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Slipping Through My Fingers

Read here on AO3!

When it comes to his children, Bruce has very few regrets. He loves them completely, scars and all. He wouldn’t want to change a single part of them.

But he can’t lie and say that he doesn’t regret the timing with which each of these beautiful souls entered his life. Bruce has six children, but he’s never had a baby, and isn’t that wrong? Isn’t that a pity? He missed so much of their lives—so many milestones that every parent wants to remember forever but that he’s not even had glimpses of. He wasn’t there for the first steps or the lost teeth or learning how to ride a bike. He missed all of his children learning to talk, missed watching Sesame Street with them in the morning and making soapy mohawks in the bathtub. Bruce missed everything. He missed moments that he can’t get back, no matter how hard he yearns for a rewind. Take him back. Return to him the moments he lost without even knowing it until they’d already slipped through his fingers. Bruce has a few mementos to get him by, but they only grant him glimpses of the years he missed. Dick has a bin of old tapes from the Flying Graysons’ best performances that he likes to watch on bad days. Occasionally he’ll let Bruce watch with him. There’s something magical about watching the young boy in the tapes swing on the trapeze and pull gravity-defying moves, all the while knowing what a strong man that boy will one day become. Jason came to the manor with very little, having to travel light while on the streets. There’s a shoebox under the bed in his old room salvaged from his mother’s things, containing a handful of photos from Jason’s toddler years, a stuffed animal or two, some loose possessions. Bruce used to go through them after Jason’s death, just to give himself something to hold on to. Tim had more than Dick and Jason combined: plenty of photos, report cards, baby teeth, and coloring books all saved in storage. But as much as there was, Bruce still only had glimpses of the real Tim. Every family photo was stiff, like an assortment of plastic dolls. The papers and drawings that have been collected are too crisp, like they were shoved into a childhood folder and forgotten about without a second glance, not even making it to the refrigerator. All Bruce has of Cass’ childhood are videotapes of training sessions. He refuses to watch them, for both her sake and his own. Duke has a photo album he keeps in his bedroom, compiling plenty of baby pictures and family vacations. He’s only shown it to Bruce once. Otherwise, he keeps it in his bookshelf, untouched but for the handful of times he’s visited his parents, showing them old memories in case it will miraculously jog something and put the shards of them back together. The longer it doesn’t work, the less he’s willing to tell. The League of Assassins has an entire storage room of files on Damian’s development. Bruce has seen it. It’s like every move the boy made was monitored and catalogued, detailed without so much as a lick of emotion to remind anyone that this was a child being discussed. There were no shiny milestones to celebrate, only completed stages. No one commemorated his first word or first time seeing a butterfly, but his first time using a wakizashi sword earned five entire pages. If Bruce could go back in time, he would snatch up every one of his children and give them the lives they deserve, right from the start. No pain. No dead parents. No neglect, no heartache, no scavenging on the streets just to survive the night. He would wipe their slates clean if it meant he could stave off their suffering, just for a little while longer. He would do anything to go back.

Back when Bruce was a child and tragedy hadn’t yet torn his family to bloody shreds, there was one Fourth of July on which his parents took him to the circus. Alfred had an open invitation to accompany them, but, being a Brit, he politely declined from the day’s festivities. “I’ll have you know, young sir, that I served as a spy for the British forces and mentored Alexander Hamilton during his teenage years.” Bruce was ninety-nine percent sure that Alfred wasn’t alive during the American Revolution. That day was the first time Bruce had been to the circus. It was a local one, small with very few extravagant spectacles, but his father bought him peanuts and afterward the three of them watched the fireworks in Gotham Park. It was a day that imprinted itself on Bruce’s memory, sticking with him long after they were gone. So when he sees a flyer announcing that Haly’s International Traveling Circus is visiting Metropolis on the same day Bruce has an interview with Lois Lane for some column on America’s wealthiest men, how can he turn the opportunity down? The air is warmed by summer rays, the entire field radiating Metropolis’ natural brightness. The scent of peanuts and popcorn wafts from all sides and the classic tinkling circus music fills his ears. The show doesn’t start for another half hour, so Bruce settles on walking around, unsure of what to do with himself. He should get some photos to bring home for Alfred. He’s always had a fascination with jugglers. After some perusing, Bruce pulls up under a tree, shaded against the thick trunk. He’s just pressed send on the pictures to Alfred when he hears a voice from above. “Hey, mister.” Bruce looks up to discover a boy perched on a tree branch two feet above his head. The kid looks around six years old with black hair that curls around his ears. He’s wearing a bright red and green costume—obviously one of the performers. How a child his age came to be part of the circus, Bruce can’t begin to guess. He’s missing his front teeth and his skin, tan with a honey glow, makes his nationality hard to place. Bruce blinks up at the boy. “Hello.” The kid drops down and catches on the branch with his hands, dangling with his bare feet kicking in the air. “Whatcha doing here?” Now that he’s paying attention, Bruce can detect the slightest accent. Romani, perhaps? “Why does anyone come to the circus?” The boy laughs. “You don’t look like the kind of person who goes to the circus.” “Then what kind of person do I look like?” The boy thinks, swinging back and forth like a cartoon monkey. How his hands aren’t scraped raw from gripping the rough bark, Bruce doesn’t know. “A lawyer, maybe. Or a president.” The corner of Bruce’s mouth lifts. “I’m neither of those things, unfortunately.” “Well, I’m an acrobat.” “I can see that.” “But I do other stuff too,” the kid tells him, “like I know how to juggle and how to walk on stilts and how to throw knives at targets. I’m getting real good at that.” “Are you sure a kid your age should be playing with knives?” The boy laughs. “You think knives are scary? You should see it when they let me play with the tigers.” Bruce arches an eyebrow. “You play with tigers?” That can’t be safe. Maybe he should have a talk with the ringmaster and make sure someone is ensuring that no little boy heads are getting bitten off by mighty jaws. “Oh yeah, the tigers are the best.” The kid swings his body upward, letting go of the branch and pulling a heart-stopping somersault midair as he falls. He lands on his feet without a wobble. “I know all of their names and they’re huge, like they’re this big”—he stretches out his arms as far as they will go, which makes the tigers a whopping two and a half feet tall—”and sometimes I’m even allowed to ride them!” Bruce leans back against the tree trunk, crossing his arms with a smile. “Is that right?” “Yeah!” The kid then launches into a string of chatter, so fast that it takes all of Bruce’s focus to keep up. He tells Bruce all about the circus’ tigers: what breed they are, how many they have, what they eat, what their names are (their actual names and the names the kid gave them; Marshmallow is his favorite), and how his dad once gave him permission to hold a hoop while a tiger leapt through it. The entire time, Bruce can’t help but wonder, is this what childhood is supposed to be like? Swinging on tree branches and giving oral reports about your favorite animals to complete strangers? Is this what growing up is like for normal children? Bruce doesn’t know whether to be envious of this little boy or concerned. He’s so innocent; it bleeds from every grin. There’s nothing weighing this kid down—literally and figuratively—and Bruce finds himself silently praying to a being he doesn’t believe in that it never changes. Let this kid stay pure, untouched by the evils of the world. Let him go his whole life swinging on branches and talking about tigers without a single setback. After a good ten minutes when the boy’s tumbled into a handstand and has moved on to tell Bruce about his favorite elephant Zitka, a feminine voice rings, “There you are, Dick. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” A beautiful woman approaches the pair, wearing an identical red and green leotard. She’s got matching black hair and blue eyes—too spitting of an image to be anyone but his mother. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re supposed to be backstage.” “Sorry, Mom,” Dick says, turning right-side up, but he hasn’t lost his grin. Now that he thinks of it, Bruce doesn’t recall it waning once in the entire time they’ve been talking. She takes in Bruce, suit and all, and plasters on a stage smile, sticking out her hand. “Mary Grayson. You’ll have to forgive my son, he gets excited easily. He’ll talk your ear off for hours if you let him.” But the glimmer in her eye gives Bruce an inclination that she has no problem being an audience for her son’s happy rants. Bruce shakes her hand. “Bruce. I take it you’re the Flying Graysons I’ve been hearing so much about?” “The very same. I hope you’ll be seeing our show tonight.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He winks at the littlest Grayson, who beams. Mary ruffles Dick’s hair. “Well, this little robin and I should be getting ready now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Bruce.” “Likewise.” He leans down and shakes Dick’s small hand. “And if you ever come to Gotham, maybe you can tell me more about those tigers, eh?” Dick looks like he contains the sun itself. He’s sunshine incarnate. “Definitely!” He drags his feet when his mom starts leading him away, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Bye, Mr. Bruce!” He waves his hand like a windmill of its hinges, and Bruce can’t help but return it. Bruce hasn’t felt this content in a long time to the point where he has to stop in wonderment of it. It’s unlikely that Haly’s will end up coming to a place like Gotham anytime soon, but Bruce hopes for it anyway. After all, Gotham could use some sunshine.

Here’s the rest of it on AO3 because I don’t feel like formatting all 7,000 words on here lmao.

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3pirouette · 3 years

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Fic: Five, Four, Three, Two... One (1/1)

Title: Five, Four, Three, Two… One By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Sequel to Six Dates, Times, and Places

Story Summary: Steve nodded, looking away over the horizon. “I’m still sorry about it.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky moved his hand back to his lap, lacing his flesh fingers with his vibranium ones. “You got me out eventually. You stopped me when it counted.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, “Not every time.”

“Enough times.” Bucky was adamant, his voice sharp and brokering no arguments. – Six Dates, Times, and Places

There were five more dates. This is the story of the very last, and maybe most important, one. Angst, Canon-compliant death.

A/N: Yes, in theory there are four other stories to be told. But to me, this is the most important one. It makes a lot of the MCU make sense, and is a headcanon of mine. No promises on if I’ll ever revisit the other dates, this is the only one I ever really planned on telling.

For Steggy Week Day 7: Free Choice

~*~

Steve and Peggy made a plan in 1948. Somewhere between arranging the wedding and securing him a new public identity, they set down ground rules regarding the last five dates, times, and places. They would do whatever they could, in reason, to get Bucky out.

Steve would do whatever he could, reason be damned, to make sure Peggy stayed alive.

It hurt his head to think of how it all worked. He wished for someone to talk to about it, to try to help explain this cyclical loop to him, to explain to him how he’d already done this and Bucky knew about it, yet it was still his unknown future.

What he really wanted to know, above all else, was if he could actually change anything or if every choice he made was already pre-destined. Was he just a chess piece playing out a game that had long since been played already or could his move affect or change the outcome?

He had to believe what he did made a difference.

It was too depressing not to.

He once asked Pym his thoughts on the matter, disguising it as a hypothetical question based on a Sci-Fi movie he’d seen, but the man was too theoretical, too unable to break it down for someone who wasn’t a scientist for his opinion to be helpful or reassuring.

He’d asked Howard once in the beginning. Howard took it almost too seriously, reminding him so much of Tony as he talked about all the things that could go wrong, the paradoxes, the potential for catastrophe. By the end of the night, Howard was drunk and staring at him dangerously, and ended the night by telling Steve he shouldn’t have come back.

They’d never talked about it again, but Steve noticed Howard started to keep his distance from them. It was a slow process as he distanced himself. Year by year, he saw them less and less. Peggy thought it was Howard being Howard, pulling away from the good things in his life and burying himself in his work.

Steve was fairly sure it was him.

Even then, though, Steve thought it might be for the best.

It had always rubbed him just a little wrong in the 21st century that Tony had seemed indifferent about Peggy, that he didn’t know her well when she had helped Howard build SHIELD. Steve couldn’t understand then how Tony had managed to avoid being around Peggy so often, how her influence hadn’t been felt by him at all.

He knew that Tony hadn’t met Peggy’s husband, had barely known Peggy for all those years. He didn’t know about Steve and Peggy’s relationship during the war for all Howard had bragged about Steve to his son, and Peggy’s death hadn’t phased him in the slightest.

Steve found out as the years ticked on, and as Howard and Peggy drifted apart, that it made sense.

While it was possible Tony had known Steve all along, and hadn’t realized it had been him or had played along, the easier thing to do, especially since Steve knew how it all ended, was to stay as far away from the boy as possible.

Which ended up being easy once Peggy found out Howard was working on the side for the pentagon, trying to recreate Erskine’s serum yet again. She stopped speaking to him all together unless it was necessary for work, and the yelling between the two when the topic came up was unfathomable.

And through it all, Steve kept his little scrap of paper, even with the dates memorized.

In 1956 they sent the kids with the Jarvis’s to the mountains for a week and Steve didn’t leave Peggy’s side for a minute until it was over and they were left watching Bucky slip through their fingers.

In ’65, Steve tried everything he could think of to keep Peggy away from New York City, but when the President called, she couldn’t say no and Steve still couldn’t pull Bucky from the clutches of Hydra.

With the kids grown and out of the house, Steve and Peggy had taken the opportunity in 1972 to try to figure out how to turn the tables on him by prepping months ahead for the assault they expected in the swank DC hotel Shield liked to put Peggy up in when she had to be in town. They had blueprints and had tapped into surveillance and thought they were prepared, but he still managed to slip away in the night.

In 1986, their son had taken up the mantle. Strong like his father, Steve and Peggy brought him into the family secret, and Steve gave their firstborn the job of helping him protect Peggy while they were at an unavoidable State Dinner. Steve and Peggy were both proud, and yet still saddened when the paper was right, yet again, and Bucky slipped away into the night.

Steve generally didn’t ask much of her when it came to where she went or who she saw, especially for work. Peggy didn’t argue with him when it came to the dates on the paper.

Asking her to stay away from the Pentagon for the last date was easier than he’d anticipated.

For this last one, though, it wasn’t just about Peggy.

There was one date left, and it might be the most important date of them all: December 16, 1991.

Despite having their differences, Steve couldn’t at least try. He begged Howard to get out of town. He told him as much as he could, but didn’t reveal the exact time or place that he knew to be the man’s downfall. Just the day. “As far as you can. Take Maria, take Tony, please.”

Howard wanted to push back, especially with how estranged they’d become, but he knew better than to try to defy Steve’s knowledge of the future. “She’s been mentioning going on a vacation, anyway. Bermuda, Bahamas, someplace like that. I’ll have Jarvis arrange it.”

Steve thought he was in the clear. Peggy was staying home, Howard was going to be out of the country, and no one was going to be on a back road just outside of DC in the middle of the night on December 16.

He was going to fix this one. If changing nothing else mattered, this one thing did.

He was nervous all day, fidgeting about the house and checking doors and window locks until Peggy had to stop him and physically make him sit down. It was cold, and a Monday, and it left Steve with little to do but think about the hours ticking by until the very last deadline. They had leftovers from Sunday dinner, then worked on what still needed to be bought or ordered for Christmas for the kids and grandkids, and ended the evening in front of the television, nestled together under a blanket, sidearms within easy reach. They watched MacGyver then flipped between the football game and Murphy Brown. She had a glass of chardonnay and he finished off the red she said was too dry.

Steve had almost, almost thought they’d managed to somehow escape the fate of the last date on the paper as he clicked over to the evening news.

Until the phone rang.

Mister Jarvis’ voice echoed through the phone, tinny and distant.

Steve felt the grief well up in him.

If he hadn’t known it yet, though he was sure he’d become sure of it decades ago, this was the moment that proved it: none of this could be changed. It was always, always meant to be exactly the way it was.

“What… what was he doing there?” Steve choaked out as Peggy wrapped around him. “He was supposed to be on vacation. On the plane by then.”

Jarvis’s voice wobbled on the line. “He pushed back the flight. He was to deliver something to the Pentagon, then head to the airfield.

It welled within him and he rushed through their home to the bathroom, retching the little in his stomach out.

December 16, 1991: Howard was dead. Maria was dead. Tony was left alone.

It had been as much his fault as anything that Tony hadn’t known his father as well as he could have, and now he was gone.

He felt like he was watching Tony die all over again.

He’d failed him.

Peggy hung back in the doorway, eyes full of tears. “He told me he canceled it.”

Steve looked up at her, confused, and swiped at his mouth with his hand.

“Department of Defense contract meeting.” She stepped into the room and sat by him, her hand on his shoulder as he crumpled against the wall across from the toilet. “We were supposed to video conference with DOD contractors from all over the world, that’s why it was so late at night. He told me he’d cancelled it.” She swallowed hard and tried to sniff away her tears. “It’s the only reason I can imagine he was going there.”

“What… what could be so important?” Steve asked, eyes welling.

“He’d fixed it,” Peggy whispered, snuggling into Steve’s side. “He had a viable version of the serum.”

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, swiping at his eyes. “If they knew—”

Peggy kissed his head fiercely. “Of course, they knew. That’s why they sent the Winter Soldier. The always know.” She sighed, her own tears falling. “I was supposed to be in that car, not Maria. He just couldn’t stay away from the office for one day.”

His voice was still hurting, still confused. “They’ve never programmed him to go after anyone else before.”

“Maybe you did save me by keeping me home. Or maybe this day wasn’t me, darling,” she whispered, trying to comfort him, comfort herself. “Maybe it was the serum itself and they were collateral damage. Maybe it was Howard.”

“It is my fault.” Steve shook his head and looked at her. “I knew the date, the date Howard died, and how. I knew it, Peg. I should have…”

Peggy pressed her finger to his lips. “How long ago was it that Barnes gave those to you, hum?” She let her hand caress over his cheek and behind his neck. “We’ve tried, for so long, to try to change the outcome. To bring Barnes back. But it has never worked.”

Steve slumped further, resting his head on her shoulder. He felt a tear drip from her cheek to his, and he wiped it away harshly before tucking them closer together. The tile was cold, but it assured him that he wasn’t completely numb.

“I think we’ve both known, all along, that this whole thing was always supposed to go one way,” she whispered softly, her voice thick with tears as she ran her fingers through his hair. “You’ve never shied away from helping anyone in your life,” she softly spoke against his temple. “You tried. That’s all Barnes ever asked.”

“No,” Steve bit out, voice low and thick. “I saved you. But I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save Howard. I couldn’t save Tony…”

Peggy sat up tall, pushing Steve away from her until he could look her in the eyes. “Now, you listen to me. You didn’t kill Howard. Hydra did. You didn’t kill Tony. He sacrificed himself because of that man, Thanos. You did everything you could to save not only the ones you love, but millions of other people.” She grabbed him by his wet cheeks, her own tears still spilling over. “The tragedy is that this was how it has always been, and was always meant to be, not that you didn’t try hard enough. If you could have changed the world with just your will alone James would be joining us for Christmas dinner and things with Howard and Tony would have gone much, much differently.”

Steve’s eyes flickered over her face for a moment before he reached up, taking one of her hands in his and kissing the palm fervently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her skin, eyes closed. “I’m sorry that you lost a friend because of me. I’m sorry that you lost all these years together.”

Peggy nodded, sniffing away a fresh set of tears. She swallowed hard before speaking. “Howard made his choice, and I made mine. And I don’t regret a day.” She pulled him back to her, hugging him closely. “Not a single moment, my love.”

“I’ve made my peace with it long ago, Steve,” she whispered after a long moment. “I didn’t see what you saw, I don’t know what you know, but the world had to burn to bring you back to me. To give us our family. We have all lost so much, and from what you’ve said, Tony’s losses have only begun. Maybe this has all happened before and it is destined to happen again, I don’t know.” She kissed his cheek, holding tight. “But tomorrow? Tomorrow the little slip of paper in your sock drawer no longer holds any power over us.”

Steve held her tight on the bathroom floor, tears trickling quietly for both of them as the clock in their bedroom ticked by the seconds in the silence. “I don’t know how to help Tony.”

“We’ll figure something,” she whispered. “There may be no help for him, Steve. To become the man that will sacrifice his life for the universe, he may have to go through everything just the same.”

“I wish…” He sighed, unable to finish.

“I know,” she replied softly. “Me, too.”

#Steggy Week 21 #Stegy Fic #Angst #Tissue warning maybe #3P's FIc

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gotmilk5101520 · 3 years

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Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia Watch Episode 40 Night Patroll

Well, we’re finally here. The third (fourth) and final season of Trollhunters.

That was not aliens landing in town.

Why are you two chasing him on foot?

“He’s heading toward Arbor Street. Tell me you put up signs there”

It was at this moment he knew, he fucked up.

“I thought you did”

It was at this moment they knew, they fucked up.

Jim gets defeated by a chair.

“Ha-ha!”

“Eat my geomancy”

“Gumm-Gumm swine!”

“Uh, Blinky, you’ve got the wrong sign!”

It was at this moment he knew, he fucked up.

“For weeks, Gunmar’s been sending his minions to do his dirty work” Two weeks have passed since last episode? Again?

“Gunmar strong!”

“Do nothing, Gunmar grow stronger!”

“My choice!”

“It would be a waste of a hulking brute” Never waste a hulking brute.

“Go on”

“I wanna enjoy the sunrise while still have ‘em”

Enjoy it while you can.

Turkey and milk.

“Are you painting?”

“Well, if you can call it that”

“Come on, don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure-”

“WHOA! WHOA!”

“No, no, no, no, no”

“Is it that bad?”

“No, no. It’s-It’s, uh... It’s-It’s”

“thought provoking” Very thought provoking.

“I can drive you to school on my way to the hospital”

“Actually”

”i promised Claire i’d walk her. I was just on my way”

“Oh. And they say chivalry is dead” No, chivalry is dead.

“Claire, i told you not to use your Shadow Staff”

“You’ve had that cold since you opened that giant portal” “Well i rather be sick than be possessed by a bitch or dying a virgin”

“If you don’t get that sign out of here, the crime rate’s about to go up!”

“Geez, mister! It’s just a sign. Everyone else has got one”

“I am running against her!”

“Hammes is my name!” “Aren’t you a Republican?” “Yes i am! Screw Nunez and her Democrat views! Long live President Donald Trump!”

“Gotta go!”

“Let’s cheese it!” “Let’s go!”

“Sorry you’re gonna lose! Especially since we live in California!”

“Why i oughta-!”

“Ahh!”

“Instead of seeking the hole the traitors cower in”

“We should storm the surface and seize the human’s weaponry”

“Use it against them. They have explosives that level cities ripe for the taking” And that’s how World War 3 starts.

“And then what?”

“We’re only as strong as the night lasts”

“Every dawn will decimate our forces, giving the humans the advantage” You know. Gunmar is actually a pretty smart villain. Villains like him would want to attack now, and his men tell him it’s a bad idea. But Gunmar knows that the sun can kill them and that’s why he wants to bring forth the Eternal Night.

“Ugh! The Pale Lady. The Eldritch Queen”

“Why don’t you just call her by her real name?”

“Morga-” “No!”

“Her name is cursed!”

“What is she? Voldemort?”

“Look at the hot sauce that showed up on our front door, C-Bomb”

“It’s Luka Couffaine”

“I told you, i’m not Luka Couffaine”

“Wow, you really are Luka Couffaine” “No i’m not”

“No, you’re definitely Luka Couffaine” “How so?” “Well, you both have blue-black hair” “Play the guitar” “Black fingernails” “Punk-goth-ish outfit” “Trying to steal the girl” “Wait, you guys were both introduced in 2018″ “Yeah, but Luka was introduced in March. Douxie didn’t come till May” “Yeah. He’s a California Luka” “Please don’t let this continue in 3Below and Wizards”

“I mean, it’s the end of the school year”

“and we’re already pretty booked up with all those”

“after school activities”

“You need to take the night off”

“You’re working way too hard”

“Remember, life’s a balance”

“Actually, a friend of mine told me i needed more balance” She got you there.

This is fine.

“Again, what is the code of changelings?”

“Rule 1”

“There’s honor among assassins”

“Rule 2!”

“Rule 1 is a lie. There’s no such thing as honor”

“Rule number 3?” “Always kick them in the gronk-nuks”

“I mean. Everything and everyone is a tool to get what you want. I like the other rule 3”

“Use the darkness, Trollhunter. Give in to the darkness. Embrace the darkness”

“Tetsuya Nomura is that you?”

“Ah!”

“That is not a toilet, Plagsnork!” Everything is a toilet.

“What word did you bring, old friend?”

“Two words” That’s three fingers.

“So, you’ve had this cold for two weeks. Any other symptoms?”

“Yeah, to be honest”

“I’ve been tired all the time”

“and spacing out”

“According to my tests, you’re in absolute perfect health” Even though she looks sick?

“This happens a lot”

“Finals are approaching”

“and you kids think everything is the end of the world”

“If you only knew” Haha.

“How are things with you and Jim?”

“Every time i ask, he gets tongue-tied”

“It’s good”

“He’s great” Why did you look away just a sec? What are you hiding?

See? See? Look, even Barbara sees the bullshit!

“Master Jim, thought you could use this”

”I managed to scrounge up all the components for brewing a fine cup of coffee”

“Except i had to use someone’s old gym lock for the filter”

*Spit Take in Troll*

“Master Jim, as our Trollhunter”

“you have been, eh”

“awful”

“So many times, making horrible”

”horrible mistakes”

“Hey, i’m trying my best”

“Precisely”

“And that is why”

“i would follow to the ends of the earth”

“You are human”

“You grow”

”You learn from your mistakes”

”You always try to make the right choice”

“Unlike Gunmar, i believe we trolls can grow with you”

“Don’t push out the darkness”

“Embrace that rage. Let it fuel you”

“Your humanity is your weakness”

“Let’s hope you’re right”

“Trolls, stand with me!”

“For tonight, we...”

“Whatever” Good to see you Changeling.

Sneak attack failed.

“You stole this world from us!”

“The time of man is at an end!”

“Only one can rule the earth!” This hits harder after Wizards.

Oh, hey it’s the billboard of foreshadowing.

“Master Jim! Don’t do it!”

“Do it, Trollhunter!”

“If you think your armor’s too much to shoulder today”

“i’ll make sure it’ll break you tomorrow!”

“I found you once. I will find you again”

“Kill him!”

“You will need to learn to let go”

“No more holding back”

“Release what’s inside of you”

“Use the darkness, Trollhunter”

“He’s not ready”

“His humanity will get him killed”

“Your humanity will be your undoing”

“You are human”

“You grow”

”You learn from your mistakes”

”You always try to make the right choice”

“I’m the Trollhunter”

“Master Jim, we must leave at once”

“You cannot escape me”

“I’ll find you!”

“Who is that?”

“Who’s there?”

“I will return”

“I can’t stop crying...”

“over you”

“I will return” “It’s her”

“I will return”

AAHH! Geez, enough with the jump scares. This isn’t Five Nights at Freddy’s.

Jim, you must reject your humanity!

While we run from the cops.

#trollhunters #milk watches trollhunters #tales of arcadia

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

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Dance of The Spheres Chapter 1: Terran Tarantella

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, implied murder

Characters: Loki(Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel)

Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:

“I see a bad moon a-rising

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin’

I see bad times today”

Creedence Clearwater Revival

A small group of men, and one woman gathered in a small room; the kind that seemed like a storage closet from the outside, the kind that had cameras installed, but not functioning. Beyond this room, the basic hustle of running a government rushed on, but within it, all heads were turned to a handful of hand written documents scattered over the table.

“And you're absolutely sure this translation is correct?” One of them asked.

“Yes.” The woman said. “Well, as much as I can be. Old Norse is a contentious language, but this is written so much more clearly than most of our primary sources.” She gestured to the letter in question, written in gold ink on purple parchment. It was a museum quality piece of work, and it would likely never see the inside of one. Its contents were just too incriminating. Especially since the President seemed to be seriously considering it.

“Hm. Well then, we should probably chose someone shouldn't we?” He said.

“Mister President?” The translator asked. “Are you sure? I've been quite plain about what this says. What is being asked of us. It's...reprehensible. And frankly, I am surprised that King Thor would even allow it.”

“Ma'am, this is a culture that is old beyond reckoning.” Another man-one of the generals? She couldn't keep them straight-piped in. “An alien race on top of that. It's only to be expected that they would have customs that are unfamiliar, even repugnant to us. We should keep an open mind.”

It was ridiculous. She knew for a fact that many of the people in this room and beyond held virulent hatred for several cultures that existed on Earth. There was no reason they should be showing this kind of cultural sensitivity to a bunch of aliens who just showed up and started making demands. Especially that one...

“I ask you to understand that sometimes we make hard sacrifices for the good of all.” The President said. “Asgard is a galactic superpower.”

“Was.” She pointed out. “Now they're a bunch of refugees.”

The President gave her an annoyed glance. “They will no doubt regain their power shortly. Their technology is wildly advanced. And if we go along with the occasional weird little whim they have, they will be grateful. So America gains access to Asgardian tech. Imagine how many people could have their lives bettered by Asgardian friendship.”

The translator couldn't help but wonder since when this man gave a shit about bettering the lives of others. It was disgusting, that this was probably just another path to money and power for him. Even moreso that no one else in the room was questioning this, even a little bit. They were all known for eating scraps from his table anyway, and likely looking to grab some of those benefits for themselves. At what expense?

She decided to start looking for another job.

“Asgardian friendship would certainly be a boon for our country.” She said. “Do you have further need of me?” She wanted out of here badly now. She didn't want to be in the room while they made this awful choice.

“No.” The president said. He tapped one of his men on the arm. “Escort her out, would you?”

With relief, she followed the man out of the room.

She never made it to her car.

******

Loki wandered through the dark and cramped byways, to the furthest reaches of their new settlement, past the places where the rest of his people felt safe, past where even he felt safe. These outside places were no longer the haunts of petty criminals or undesirables exactly, not that he feared such unsavories. No, these rough walls were now the lair of the most notorious and hidden Asgardian of all. So mythical was she, that almost no one knew she still lived.

Gullveig the witch. If stories were to be believed, she was the first witch. If stories were to be believed, she had been killed three times, and returned each time. If stories were to be believed, that meant she was now beyond death.

If stories were to be believed, that meant he was as well.

But that was not why he was here.

In all the whispers, in all the screamed confessions, all the gibbering of those who had visited her, her power was very real. Real and terrible, for she could grant any wish, any wish at all, and sometimes that was far more than the wisher actually wanted. Word a wish poorly, and it would be granted. Fail to think through the consequences of a wish, and it would still be granted. It was why she had been killed so many times in the first place. But that was the fault of the wishers, not Gullveig herself.

And Loki had thought through this wish, and knew what it would cost him. But the gains...if he had calculated correctly, predicted correctly, the gains for Asgard could be immense. Steeling himself, he found the one area that appeared to be lit, and entered.

“You have returned again.” She said in her cracked and watery voice. Her back was to him, and she appeared to be warming her hands over a tiny fire in a glowing crucible. Fires-real fires-were strictly forbidden within the confines of Asgard right now, but it was debatable whether those embers counted as a real fire, debatable whether she lived within Asgard. On the edge of things, always as she liked it. “So you are truly committed?”

“I am.” Loki said. “I have made my decision.”

The old witch cackled in amusement. “It may be your last! After this, you will be different. You know this, yes? This person who stands in my doorway? He will no longer exist.”

“That is by design.” Loki said.

She turned to face him. She was, by far, the oldest Asgardian he had ever seen; bent, wizened, wrinkled and scraggly. She didn't look the part of a witch. She wasn't horrifying to look at, simply old, frail, wrapped in a pale shawl. She wasn't frightening at all, except that he knew her to be older than his father's father, and that she had one, single-minded focus in life that transcended any morality or ethics she might have ever had.

“Did you bring me what I want?” she asked.

“Yes.” He offered up a sizable sack, filled with every last scrap of gold that he owned. He had pried it from his armor, stripped it from his jewelry, and pricked out every last shimmering thread from his royal wardrobe. His, and only his: she would not accept any that he had taken from someone else. This had to be his sacrifice to make-the first of several.

Gold was all she ever wanted. Anyone could buy her services, if only they offered gold. Sometimes she didn't care where they got it, but as a ruler, he was a special case. No one knew what she did with it. Surely, she had collected enough over the millennia to build a palace out of it, but it was never anywhere to be seen.

She smiled at the sight of it, seemed to stand straighter, move more spryly.

“Now, for yours.” She plunged her claw-like fingers into the crucible, stirring the embers and ashes with rapidly blackening talons. She plucked forth a glowing ring, strewn with runes, and shook it, blowing ashes from the darkening metal. Using her tattered apron, she polished the ring until it shone even in the weak light of her tiny hovel.

It was not gold, which she would never have parted with, but platinum, a metal that just happened to be fairly abundant in their new settlement. He did not know if the powers of Midgard were aware of the riches to be found in the place they had allotted to Asgard, but he would certainly see that Asgard got to claim them.

The glow and runes had thoroughly faded from the ring before she set it on his palm, with the instruction 'not to put it on until you mean it'. But he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. He had taken the opportunity while Thor slept the long and powerful sleep of an Asgardian ruler, to send a message to the country of most of his brother's friends. The country he had tried to conquer. It was a message that promised things, as in days of old. A promise of power, of friendship, of mutual benefit, in exchange for a life. The simplest and most common of agreements.

Perhaps that might make up for his earlier...indiscretion.

He vanished the ring to his magical hiding place, and exited Gullveig's home. While Thor slept, Loki ruled, and it wouldn't do for him to be missed. Winding along through long, rough corridors, until he returned to the well-lit and finished walls of Asgard's new buildings, he found Heimdall and his advisors waiting. Perfect. He needed to tell them to expect a visitor soon.

******

“There. I think that's everybody within the parameters.” One worker said, pushing back from his computer.

“Let me check.” His partner leaned over the keyboard. “Lessee...age range, yeah...unmarried, yeah...less than twelve thousand a year, yeah...anti-Party sentiments on social media...arrest record, yeah...'other undesirable'? That's pretty cold.”

“This whole thing is cold.” He agreed. “But the projected benefits are worth it. Whoever's chosen will be contributing more than their current life is worth.”

“Cold as ice. Well, let's do this.” His partner hit the sort command, the program sifting through millions of names before settling on one at random.

“Well, there's our unlucky lady.” He said, pulling up all the personal information the computer had. “Sorry about this, miss, but maybe you should've made better life choices. Either way, your sacrifice will usher in a new age of prosperity for us.”

“Well, when do we get her?”

“We've got people in her town. We'll just send them a message tomorrow. Well, sleep tight, miss. There's no telling what that freak is going to do to you.”

“Fucking frigid, man.”

******

With a groan, you pulled yourself out of bed. Another day, another dollar. Never quite enough dollars for the amount of days you spent though.

You found your cane and hobbled to the shower, wasting precious morning moments under the warm spray. You probably wouldn't get a chance to bathe this evening. You would be going to a protest-you had finished your sign last night, and it should be dry by now.

You didn't bother to turn on the lights; the sun was peeking through your window, and it wasn't like your studio apartment had much clutter to trip over anyway.

Getting your leg attached, and grabbing a slice of buttered bread, you just barely caught the bus to work.

It was simple data entry, but it-barely-paid the bills. And it didn't require you to stand for hours, or be constantly walking back and forth, or talking directly to customers, so you were thankful to have it.

You'd still be voting for better conditions though, and surreptitiously trying to unionize. You, and everyone there were still being exploited, and it wouldn't do to just accept that, simply because it could be worse.

Now if only Betty had called in...Nope, she hadn't. It was practically every day lately, that you prayed for your ultra-conservative coworker to just stay home, but she never did. She bragged to you-or within earshot of you-very often about her perfect attendance. You could never prove that she was doing it as a jab to your occasional medical related absences, but you wouldn't put it past her.

She noticed you slipping your sign under your desk.

“That's inappropriate.” She said with unconcealed disgust. Ugh, the twit would hate protesters. She somehow thought she was closer to those power-hungry hangers-on that the regime seemed to draw out of the woodwork. She had much more in common with the people crawling in the streets than she ever would with the so-called 'president' and his cronies, and she would actually benefit from the changes you were all marching for, but her pointy, oyster-white nose was so far in the air that she would never see it.

“It's none of your business.” You grumbled, slipping into your chair, and setting your cane aside. You wouldn't be getting up from there for the next few hours.

“It is my business to know whether I share a cubicle wall with a violent thug!” She trilled sanctimoniously.

“Okay, first of all, that kind of accusation is inappropriate, and prohibited by company policy. Second of all, what am I gonna do? Limp at you?”

“If you decide to get aggressive with me, I can't escape. I have to run down the stairs, but you can beat me to any floor, just by using the elevator!”

“This again? Give it a rest!” You were this close to reporting her. Again. Maybe if you did it enough times, somebody would actually do something about it.

Betty held a genuine grudge over the fact that you were the only employee on this floor who got to use the janky old service elevator. Everybody else had to use the stairs. Never mind that it was literally the only way for you to even get to your desk. No, if there was something that some people were allowed to do, but Betty wasn't, it was clearly incontestable proof of oppression against Betty herself. Also, if the 'wrong sort' of people were allowed to do the same things Betty was, well that was also anti-Betty oppression. She just wanted so badly to be able to claim oppression, that she didn't realize that she actually was being oppressed by the people she wanted just as desperately to emulate.

She was exhausting.

“Good morning you two! Hey Betty, you got those numbers for me yet?” Saved by the boss. Well, not really. He didn't like you, but he didn't like Betty either. He didn't hate either of you. He was just the boss-make believe friendly, but distant, concerned with other things. However, he disliked when employees wasted time, and Betty did. A lot. That's what happened when someone was an incorrigible gossip.

Betty slunk back to her desk, cowed for at least a few minutes. He handed you a bit more work to do, then meandered down the aisle, greeting other employees, and handing out more work on his way to his own tiny office. He wasn't all that important either, in the scheme of things. It was really amazing how many people kept their gaze so fixed on the people in power that they couldn't see them pouring quicksand around their feet.

But you would lend your voice to the march on their behalf anyway. They deserved better too. Maybe they'd see it someday, instead of continuing to fight against their own interests.

For now, though, you would concentrate on your work.

The morning came and went, your little lunch alarm signaling its death. You grabbed your cane and walked slowly and carefully to the break room. You kept a week's worth of small lunches in baggies in the fridge here. Salami, little cheese slices, crackers, cherry tomatoes, baby carrots, and grapes. Not much, but tasty and filling, and you got all the food groups. There was an unspoken rule about not messing with other people's food that, thankfully, nobody in the office had ever broken; at least not while you'd been here.

You could see into the tidy lines of cubicles from the break room, and while you crunched away at your carrots, you noticed something worrying. There were two men in matching suits and shades talking to Betty. She spoke to them animatedly, gesturing at your cubicle. One of the men peeked inside.

Oh, you didn't like that at all.

You didn't actually have anything to hide, but you knew damn well that didn't matter. If these were cops-or worse-they would find whatever it was they wanted to find, one way or another.

By the time you got back from your lunch break, the men had disappeared, but Betty still had a distressingly smug grin on her face. You checked every drawer and every cranny of your desk: nothing had been taken, and nothing had been left behind. You went back to work, trying to ignore the anxiousness that was creeping up your back.

You had just finished and sent your last spreadsheet when your boss opened his door and called you to his office. You slowly made your way there, trying not to pay attention to the malice sparkling in Betty's face, or how your other coworkers glanced at you with pity or distrust.

The suspicious pair of men were hiding out in your boss' office, and you'd never seen him looking more uncomfortable.

One of the men positioned himself closer to the door behind you, not that you could run anyway.

“Um...Do you know why I called you in here?” Your boss asked.

“I assume it has something to do with your new friends.” You said sourly. This was going bad, you could see it a mile off. You honestly didn't know why they were here, or what they wanted. “Seriously though, no I don't. Why have you called me in here?”

You'd make him say it at least.

“Er, well, unfortunately your employment with us has been, well, terminated. So, if you would just gather up your things-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You interrupted. “On what grounds? Because these guys said so?”

'These guys' said nothing.

“No, no, it's, uh...your arrest record...”

“That's ridiculous! Why didn't you fire me two months ago then, when it happened? Because you know it was pure bullcrap, that's why! You saw the footage; I never threw anything at that cop! He tripped over some garbage that was already there, then turned around, knocked me down, and hit me with my own cane. They let me out the same day because they knew they had nothing. Cane's still bent.”

“Look, I'm sorry, but you're fired. I'm sorry. Now go on, get out of here.”

And take them with you seemed to be the unspoken plea. You stormed out of the office with as much dignity as you could, spoke to no one, shoved the meager contents of your desk into your purse, gabbed your sign, and got into the old service elevator for the last time.

You would be reporting this, to anybody who would listen. It was completely unacceptable. And now you would have to go through the ordeal of applying either for unemployment, or disability. You hoped your savings would last long enough for your appeals to go through.

You spotted their reflections in a display window on the way to the bus stop. The two men from the office were following you now. Were they feds? Had Betty and your spineless boss sold you out to the feds? You hadn't even done anything!

You almost expected it when they dragged you into an alley, a pungent-smelling cloth held tight over your face, muffling your voice. It made you cough, but that also made you inhale, and in moments, soft blackness wrapped around you.

#danceofthespheres #loki x reader #disabled reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#Heimdall (Marvel)

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duckymcdoorknob · 4 years

Text

Words Really Do Hurt

Warnings: TW!!!!!: harm (not self but still ouchies) A n g s t

You bitches are going to cry. I’ll make sure I drag this out and not leave out a single detail.

Ships: Jamilton

Prompt: Thomas Jefferson always assumed he would have the upper hand in arguments, from his quick wit and snapbacks. He always made Hamilton cry. But when Hamilton rolls up his sleeves, he realized what he was truly crying about.

He never knew where it came from. It was always just there...

“Bastard!”

Pain

“Whoreson!”

Pain

“Dirty thief!”

Pain.

Young Alexander ran away from the insults of his “neighbors.” Tears blurred his eyes as he ignored the searing feeling in his arm.

He opened the door of his home, seeing his sickly mother setting down “dinner” for them.

A bowl of bland oatmeal and a small apple.

“Mama... the..they di..d it again.” Alexander said wincing.

His mother rushed to his aid, putting their food aside. She drew a bath for him and helped him inside.

“What happened this time my darling?” His mother spoke softly, petting his hair.

“They called me a th..thief and a bastard whoreson.” Alexander mumbled, letting his arm down under the water.

The bathtub tinged red, a sight Alexander’s mother loathes seeing. Her boy had three fresh cuts on his arm.

She never knew how he got it.

The doctor told her that whenever something truly hurts him inside, it somehow hurts him outside too. Something to do with the signals in his brain, eating away a line on his skin. Nameless, yet so distressing to the Hamilton family. No matter how deep or long the cut is, it won’t affect his life. Something that would kill any normal human would only hurt him.

She let him rest in the bathtub as long as he wished, then dressed him in his favorite jammies.

They went downstairs and his mother put the oatmeal back on the fire.

——

Alexander went on through his life covered in scars. A large scar on his chest appeared when his mother died. No one has ever seen it, except him.

“I’m sorry but I don’t think a whoreson deserves any money. His mother should’ve thought about it before she got knocked up.”

Scar

——

“She doesn’t have much time left, Mr. Hamilton. She’s too weak and sick.”

“I love you, Alexander...”

A large scar across his chest formed again.

——

“My son was shot and killed in a gunfight.”

Alexander now has three straight lines across his chest. Signifying the loss of the three most important people in his lives.

Rubesis. That’s what the medics called it. Ovelate Rubesis, (oh-vel-eht Roo-bay-sis) the anatomical consumption of skin caused by emotional distress.

——

The wind howled outside as a chilling rain fell from the sky.

“The things you say might be completely delusional, Hamilton. But this takes the cake. The North and the South are completely different. Why should we have to pay for your debts?” Thomas began in a ramble.

Alexander felt a tiny prick on his arm, “not again.” He thought to himself. He stood tall and angry, ready to take whatever Thomas yelled at him.

“If you make the South pay your debts, It’ll be Yorktown ALL OVER again. And don’t expect to win with your current state. Your son stressing you out that much? I mean God, we could turn you into a candle with all that extra fat.”

A sudden swipe of pain shot up Alexander’s arm. He felt A thin cut develop by his wrist. These were schoolboy level insults. Why did he let it get to him?

“That’s enough, Thomas.” Washington stood between him and Jefferson, “that was below the belt and you know it.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. He wasn’t done yet. “Hamilton I can’t believe they even let your naive, foolish self into the government. I mean honest to God a brain dead toddler could run treasury better.”

A large, deep, gash began to form on his forearm.

“S..stop...” Alexander managed through his searing pain.

“Oh boohoo! What are you going to do? Cry?” Thomas teased. He scoffs and crosses his arms “So weak and pathetic.”

Tears pricked the corners of Alexander’s eyes. “P..please... i-it hurts. S..so bad.” The gash got longer.

“Christ what’s wrong with you? Can’t you just be normal?” Thomas asked, taken aback by Alexander’s behavior.

Alexander winced as blood stained his white undershirt. “J..Je..Jefferson s-stop. Please.” Alexander was breathing hard, tears falling down his face. The gash traveled from his forearm to his elbow by now.

“Jefferson, enough” Washington spoke through gritted teeth. He glared daggers at Thomas, who simply rolled his eyes.

“All I’m saying is this plan is outrageous.”

At that point in time, Washington’s assistant entered carrying a heavy crate of writing supplies. They walked over to where Washington was hovering over Thomas. The wind blew with gusto. Then shortly after, the electricity in their building was out.

The sudden flash caused Washington’s assistant to jump and drop the crate on Thomas’ leg.

“Ah! Son of a bitch!” Thomas exclaimed.

Alexander gasped and rushed to help Thomas. He may hate the man, but his paternal instincts kicked in. He rolled up his sleeves and lifted the heavy crate off of Thomas’ leg.

“Thank you, Washington. Now can we work on those lights please?” Thomas inquired.

Almost on cue, the lights flashed back on.

Thomas saw Alexander carrying the heavy crate, multiple cuts and scars on his arm, and a deep gash bleeding profusely.

“I must’ve been incorrect. Thank you for the help, Hamilton.” Thomas said softly, avoiding to talk about what he’s seen. He figured the last thing Alexander needed was to be upset more.

Alexander put the crate down, realized what he’d done and quickly rolled his sleeves back down.

“Can we get back to non verbally abusing politics please?” Washington spoke up.

“I agree. Let’s continue.” Alexander said, crossing his arms.

“Now Secretary Jefferson. You’ve given a fair view on your opinion. But why do you feel this way?” Washington began

“Lovely” Alexander thought to himself

“Mister President I believe that Hamilton’s plan to assume the debts is unfair to the South.”

“The only reason I asked is because Virginia’s debts are already paid. I just wanted to see if-“

“Shut. your. fucking mouth, Hamilton.” Thomas groaned. So much for not further upsetting him. “I know you can’t keep yourself quiet for more than a minute at a time, but for the sake of all of us in here, shut the hell up.”

“Mr. Jefferson I don’t think you’re being fair to-“ Washington was cut off by a hasty Thomas.

“You’re right. Hamilton, you’re not completely useless.”

A gash on Alexander’s left arm formed, just as his right arm.

“Thomas! That’s enough!” Washington finally raised his voice

“Ugh. Sorry dad didn’t realize we were all offended by everything here.”

“Please just leave me alone...” Alexander thought with sorrow.

“I’ve stated my case. I don’t support this buffoon’s plan. I’ve nothing else to say to his sorry ass.”

The cut deepened and grew longer. Traveling from his wrist to his mid forearm.

“E..end it.” Alexander stuttered as he grabbed his arm. “E...end the.. m..meeting.”

“You don’t get to speak to me, scum. You best run back to your island.”

The gash grew until his elbow, in an agonizingly slow manner, causing Alexander to cry out in agony. “PLEASE!” He cried, falling to the floor. Blood oozed out of the large gashes, the right one having reopened. Alexander sobbed as Washington sprinted towards him. It hasn’t been this bad since John’s death.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. Don’t let go of me.” Washington said softly, trying to keep Alexander from hyperventilating. He sat down next to Alexander and gently held the hurting man.

“Oh what now?” Thomas’ angry, annoyed face, dropped when he saw the blood seeping from Alexander’s shirt. “Oh Christ- CAN WE GET SOME HELP IN HERE?”

Thomas attempted to rush to Alexander’s aid, but stopped when he noticed Alexander cowering away.

“Get him away from me. Don’t let him say anything to me. Please!” Alexander tried to cover his ears as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Washington moved his arms down, “you know better.”

Thomas searched fantically for anything to pack the wounds with. He was freaking out. When did Hamilton have time to pull a blade on himself?

“How did you-“ Alexander pondered on Washington’s previous remark.

Thomas’ frantic pacing was stopped by Washington.

“Thomas Stop. You’re going to do more damage if you wrap them.” He said softly

“Are you INSANE?” Thomas yelled.

“Go to the shelf, Medical book, Index, Under “O”, near the end. Starts with “ov”

Thomas races to the bookshelf and did as he was instructed. There he discovered... “Ovelate Rubesis?”

Washington nodded. Alexander was too determined to stop his suffering; he couldn’t hear what was unfolding.

“Wounds will widen if bloodflow is stopped by outside force. Expose to air to end bleeding.”

Two and two didn’t click for Thomas. He knew that he needed to leave the wounds alone, but he didn’t realize that Alexander had the condition.

“Don’t cover it. They need air.” Washington replied to Thomas’ out-loud reading.

“How did you know about?-“ Alexander pondered softly.

Washington said nothing and lifted his sleeve to show multiple scars and one healing cut.

——

“Ugh. Sorry dad didn’t realize we were all offended by everything here.”

Washington barely flinched as he felt the cut on his arm develop.

“First in a few years” he thought to himself

——

The two men sat on the dusty wooden floor of the cabinet meeting room. The other members had recessed to help reduce panic.

Alexander looked down to see his wounds closed, but still red and puffy. “Thank you sir.” He said as he reached out a hand to help Washington to his feet.

“Mr. Hamilton.” Thomas said calmly, “will you please meet me outside in the hallway for a moment?”

“I...” Alexander didn’t want Thomas to be suspicious, “I suppose.”

Alexander followed Thomas into his office and closed the door behind him.

The velvet clad man sat on his desk, crossed armed, and glared at Alexander. “I’ve two questions for you, Hamilton.”

Alexander gulped. He didn’t know how much more jolts of searing pain he could take. He mentally prepared himself for the unbearable feeling.

“Why did you help me? After all I’ve done and said to you?” Thomas asked quietly.

“I-it just happened. I guess s..since I have Phillip to care for, it’s j..just instinct.” Alexander managed to stutter out.

“Ah I understand.” Thomas said with a small chuckle.

“I..is that all, Mr. Secretary?” Alexander inquired quietly.

“Don’t get too formal on me now.” Thomas said with a half smile.

“Sorry.” Alexander said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Second.” Thomas began, walking to Alexander’s tense figure.

Alexander met his gaze. It was... sympathetic?

“Would you like to explain these for me?” Thomas said in a low voice.

He grabbed Alexander’s wrist swiftly and rolled up his sleeves.

Alexander’s arms looked ugly. The large gashes were stained bright red, swollen to the high heavens, and tinging the surrounding skin a warm pink. The small cuts puffed up in irritation. It was a sight of horror for both men.

“I-I...” Alexander didn’t know what to say. Did he tell his enemy the truth? Or lie? “It was from the... the c-crate! Yeah the crate.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Hamilton.” Thomas said with a sigh. “I just didn’t expect this from someone like you.”

“I..I’m not cutting myself. I swear.” Alexander whimpered.

“Well clearly it’s from something!” Thomas said defensively, causing Alexander to flinch and put his hands up in defense.

“I..is someone. Is someone hurting you, Hamilton?” Thomas asked as tears pricked his eyes.

“Why... why would y-you want to know?” Alexander said with his own tears falling.

“God damnit, Alexander! I don’t know? Maybe that I care about you, you braindead sheep!” Thomas yelled.

Alexander’s heart panged. Then he winced as a sharp pain slowly sliced across his bare arm.

“Oh- oh my god.” Thomas said as he put a hand to his mouth.

“Just leave me alone.” Alexander mumbled, turning his back to holding his sore arm.

“Alexander...” Thomas said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t-“

“You don’t even know.“ Alexander responded, not attempting to meet Thomas’ anguished face.

“I read about it, remember?” Thomas said.

Alexander shook his head, “I was more focused on not passing out in front of anyone.”

“Ovelate Rubesis.” Thomas stated matter-of-factly, “Your skin cuts itself when something... hurts your heart.” Thomas slowed his speech in realization. “I feel like such a dick! How could I have not known this?!” Thomas’ eyes widened. “This... this is why you-“

“Begged you to end the cabinet meeting?... yeah.” Alexander said coolly.

“Oh my god that’s why you always cry during... oh my god that’s what happened. And the blood, and Washington saying it’ll heal itself, and you covering your ears and-“

Alexander’s eyes grew large from a sudden shock. Thomas had engulfed Alexander in a hug from above.

“Im so sorry.” Thomas repeated as tears streamed down his face.

Alexander buried his face into Thomas’ neck, letting sobs rack his body.

“I’m so sorry, Alexander.” Thomas whispered, resting his chin on top of Alex’s head.

The two sat in a silent embrace for a good while.

“Alexander...” Thomas whispered.

“Mm?”

“Wha...what happened when...” Thomas sighed, “when Eliza passed?”

Alexander sighed and slowly took off his green vest. “Are you sure you want to see?”

“Only if you’re comfortable.”

Alexander lifted his white undershirt up to reveal his chest.

Thomas covered his mouth as a tear fell from his eye.

Alexander’s chest had puffy lines across.

3 scars, 3 deaths.

Thomas brought Alexander close to him again and rubbed the man’s back.

“I hate to do this but.” Alexander began, lifting his head from its resting position. “Washington probably thinks that you killed me.”

Thomas chuckled “Im so sorry. For everything” he whispered, planting a soft, chaste kiss on Alexander’s forehead.

Alexander laughed through his tears.

“Im sorry I... I don’t know where that came from.” Thomas said sheepishly.

Alexander let out a soft giggle and gazed into Thomas’ soft brown eyes. “It’s okay, Thomas.”

Alexander sucked in a breath, and stood on his tippy toes to connect his lips to Thomas’.

George Washington silently opened the door to the office, careful to not alert anyone of his presence. His shoulders were in a tense position, his teeth gritted. When he saw the two men, he smiled and relaxed his shoulders. He shut the door and walked away from the room.

Thomas and Alexander broke apart, smiling at each other.

“I promise you. I’ll try to see things from your point of view from now on. And I’ll be careful with how I react, going forward.” Thomas spoke softly.

Alexander smiled and a tear rolled down his cheek.

A swift noise caught their attention.

“Meet me back in the room when you’re done. Wink wink.- GWash.”

Alexander couldn’t help but break into a fit of giggles.

Thomas put a hand on his shoulder and led him back out the door.

They both walked into the room, acting as if none of it ever happened.

#daveed diggs #hamilton #hamilsquad #hamiltrash #thomas jefferson #jamilton #lin manuel miranda #angst #au #washington #george washington #medical

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365days365movies · 3 years

Text

Western August V: Broken Arrow (1950) - Recap (Part Two) and Review

Where’s Jay SIlverheels, by the way?

This is, like, one of his most acclaimed roles, and he hasn’t shown up anywhere yet. Well, before he does, I should elaborate on why I care so goddamn much.

As I said last time, Silverheels was cast as Tonto in 1949, and became the most recognizable Native American or First Nations face in the United States. At the same time as him, another actor was working. His name was Iron Eyes Cody, and he actually also appears in Broken Arrow...somewhere. Cody made his career as a makeup artist...who specialized in redface. Yeah, that’s a weird-ass thing for a Native American actor to take part in, right?

Silverheels and Cody worked together on Broken Arrow, but Jay thought something was off. Still, the two went on in their respective careers. But they would go in two completely different directions.

During the time of Jay’s rise to fame, the Native American Civil RIghts Movement also began. This culminated in 1969 when Richard Oakes, LaNada Means, John Trudell (pictured above) and the Indians of All Tribes protest group occupied Alcatraz for 18 months. Yeah, the prison in the San Francisco Bay. It was originally native lands, so they took it back...until the government stepped in and ended the protest. But that’s a WHOLE other story. The point is, shit was changing. And suddenly, Jay Silverheels was enemy number one.

Like I said before, Hollywood and Native Americans never had the best relationship. Or even a good one. Hell, there’s a 1915 article written by a film executives that said they stole from film sets, but were trustworthy if provided tobacco and firewater, which is NOT AN EXAGGERATION AT ALL OF WHAT THAT DUDE SAID. And extending to Jay’s role of Tonto, Native American depictions in film were quite stereotypical. Broken and simplified English, savage behaviors and a misunderstanding of Western technology, headfeathers and hollering...you know, real racist shit. And since Jay was kind of the face of that to America...his career didn’t go well. And it REALLY didn’t help that he leaned into it.

youtube

Look, Jay was a massive advocate for the Native American Civil Rights movement, and he made that well-known on every possible occasion. However, he also treated Tonto as more of a parody of himself, performing the role for talk shows and commercials, like this above commercial for pizza rolls. And yeah, people were NOT FUCKING HAPPY about that. Native Americans labeled him an “Uncle Tomahawk”, and he was shunned in the community. Meanwhile, Jay’s career was absolutely tanking, barely getting any rolls after 1970. To make things worse, he has a stroke that year. And to make things EVEN worse...let’s get back to Iron Eyes fucking Cody.

In 1971, Iron Eyes Cody was cast by the Keep America Beautiful organization as the “Crying Indian” in their Earth Day commercial. This is the most successful commercial in the history of television, and it launched Iron Eyes Cody into fame as the most recognizable Native American face in the country, if not in the world. He met three Presidents, the Pope, got a stamp, was nominated for statehood...just, ludicrous amounts of acclaim and fame. When asked what his tribal lineage was, he would claim that he was of Cherokee and Cree descent. Just like Johnny Depp did! Which is fitting, because just like Johnny Depp...

IRON EYES CODY WASN’T NATIVE AMERICAN AT ALL

Born Espera Oscar de Corti, he was an Italian kid from Louisiana. Yeah. This guy, this motherfucking guy, made his career playing pretend as a Native American. Remember when I said he was a makeup artist for films, making people look more authentically redface? Yeah, he did that as his job AND AS HIS LIFE. He would also always wear his Native American costume in public, which even Native Americans thought was fucking weird.

And Jay Silverheels KNEW this, by the way. He found out while the two were working together...on Broken Arrow. Which, of course, is why I brought this up. So this must’ve been a goddamn gutpunch for the poor guy. He’s labeled Uncle Tomahawk, while Cody’s being lauded as the best Native American actor ever, AND HE ISN’T EVEN NATIVE AMERICAN. Jesus Christ, this sucks.

Jay Silverheels died of a second stroke in 1980, at the age of 67. Iron Eyes went on to be on Mister Rogers, got even more film roles, and died a successful man in 1999, at the age of 94. There was an attempt to expose him in 1996, but that attempt got backlash from a fuckton of people, including within the Native American community. Only after his death was he finally revealed as the son of Sicilian immigrants who played a fake Native American for the cameras. And to be fair, he did give to Native American charities and causes, he was an advocate for Native American rights, and he at least raised the awareness of Native Americans to people who may not have known or cared about them otherwise. And yet, despite that...

Fuck Iron Eyes Cody. He’s still a dick.

Time to get back to Broken Arrow, huh? Here’s Part One if you missed it!

Recap: Part 2

After the gross-ass flirtation between the two the next day, Cochise arrives to tell Jeffords that he’ll allow the mail through, but nobody else. Jeffords takes the news back to Tucson, and nobody believes him. He’s given resistance specifically from John Lowrie (Robert Griffin), who bets Jeffords money that five mail riders won’t make it through. Jeffords takes the bet, and Milt Duffield is the first to volunteer to ride.

Duffield and four other riders make it through. But in the process, a military wagon train is ambushed by Chochise and his men and slaughtered. This seeming dichotomy leads the men of Tucson to believe that Jeffords is a traitor and siding with the Apache. In response, after a tence-ass altercation in a bar, the men mob together and IMMEDIATELY TRY TO LYNCH HIM JESUS CHRIST

He’s saved at the last minute by General Oliver Howard (Basil Ruysdael), who asks Jeffords to ask for a meeting with Cochise. He agrees to arrange it, if the peace-seeking General agrees to come alone. He does, as the General is actually a decent-ass dude. He’s not racist, and he believes that the Apache should be allowed their territory as well. Sick.

Also sick is the fact that the romance between Jeffords and Sonseeahray is going ahead towards marriage! Gross! Fucking gross. Cochise approves of this, and arranges it with the parents, despite warning them of the troubles ahead. However, that night, Jeffords is almost killed in his sleep by one of the tribesmen. Jeffords stops it, and Cochise intervenes, ashamed by the actions of one of his people. This is Nahilzay (John War Eagle), a rival suitor of Sonseeahray, and a traitor to Cochise’s word. So, to act upon his honor, Cochise kills him. Whoof.

The General comes for the treaty, while Sonseeahray prepares for their wedduuuuuuchh. Sorry, threw up in my mouth a little just then. Anyway, four days pass, and the men of the Apache Tribes have gathered to attempt a peace negotiation with the General. After a round of questions by the generals, the two Americans leave. And at this point, a dissenting voice rises. This voice does not believe the Americans. He says that the Apache don’t need this treaty, but need a new chief who is not softened to war.

But Cochise rightly notes that the Americans are growing in strength, and the Apache are shrinking. He puts it to a vote, and while some men leave, the majority of the Apache agree to peace. The leader of these men takes a new name: Geronimo (Jay SIlverheels). Sick. Geronimo and his new allies leave, ready to continue the war in the stead of the other Apache. But still, overall, there is a tentative peace that’s been struck.

But, of course, Geronimo doesn’t care about peace. He and his men ambush a stagecoach party, accompanied by Jeffords. But Jeffords is able to put out smoke signals that bring Cochise’s Apache to their aid, chasing off these renegades. Looks like the treaty’s working after all! I’m sure that it’s not gonna backfire even a little bit.

Anyway, the wedduuuuching between Jeffouuuughrds and Sonseeeewahray takes place and I stop myself from vomiting all over my computer. There, a wedding prayer is said, and that prayer has been mistaken for being an authentic Apache Prayer for 71 years. It comes from THIS FUCKING MOVIE.

Sixteen days pass, and the peace treaty is still intact. Jeffords and Sonseeahray wax poetic about their love, and I feel like burying my head in the couch pillows to GET AWAY FROM THIS. But that’s interrupted by the arrival of Bob Slade (Mickey Kuhn), the son of racist farmer Ben Slade. He claims that the Apache have stolen their horses, which Cochise doubts. Still, on Jeffords’ suggestion, they go to investigate. And of course...it’s an ambush by Ben Slade, John Lowrie, and their compatriots.

The men fire away, aiming for Cochise. They miss him, and instead hit Jeffords and Sonseeahray, who tagged along for some reason. Slade is killed by Cochise, who escapes with his life. The men realize how severely they’ve fucked up, and they take off for Mexico. Fuck you guys. Jeffords lives, only to see that Sonseeahray is dead. When Cochise returns to find Jeffords and the survivors, they also notice a still-living settler. Jeffords wants to kill him, but Cochise stops him, now fully believing in peace.

Although he grieves, he also recognizes that Sonseearray was a Girl in the Refrigerator all along, and her death has inspired TRUE peace between the settlers and the Apache. And...that’s it.

That’s it?

That’s...one of the most sudden and anticlimactic endings I’ve seen in a while. I’m a little disappointed, to be honest. But OK, before I get on a tangent, let’s do a full review, huh?

Review

Short preamble! I did like this movie...mostly. It’s kind of haunted by the whole underage love interest and the redface. Hard for me to see past that, BUT IF I TRY...I can acknowledge that this is a good movie. I didn’t even mention that it’s loosely based off of a true story! Yeah! Tom Jeffords and Cochise actually did have a relationship. It’s a VERY different story, but their friendship really did exist.

If I was gonna guess my rating ahead of time...I’ll go with a 76%-80%. But let’s see how that holds up in the breakdown.

Cast and Acting - 7/10: Despite the position he’s in, Jimmy Stewart still turns out a great performance in this movie. Sure, watching him kiss Debra Paget make me cry on the inside and outside, but he was good in the role of Jeffords, especially when up against the racist settlers. Jeff Chandler also manages to be good, despite the fucking redface. And Jay Silverheels...Jay was great, even though I thought his role would be more than a single scene. As for the rest...Paget was bad. She was not good in this movie, sorry. And everybody else was basically just OK. Nothing to write home about.

Plot and Writing - 9/10: This was a solid-ass story, and I liked almost every part of it...save the underage romance. Which, no, I AM NOT FORGETTING ABOUT. Dude, Jeffords didn’t do that in real life. So, for the love of GOD, why make his fictional bride fucking 15? Guys...gross. Really fucking gross, Albert Maltz. Other than that, you did a great job, I just wish that wasn’t a part of it. Ugh.

Directing and Cinematography - 10/10: Yeah, Delmer Daves is a legend. I thought of writing the into to these recaps on him, but I really wanted to talk about Jay Silverheels and Iron Eyes Cody. But I’ll get my chance; Delmer Daves also directed 3:10 to Yuma, so I’ll bring him up one of these days. Anyway, Delmer Daves does a great job with this movie, and it’s gorgeously shot. Ernest Palmer is cinematographer, and he also does an excellent job.

Production and Art Design - 9/10: Sure, the settlers look generic, but the Native Americans? Excellent costume design, with a lot of authenticity packed in there. Credit where credit’s due, here.

Music and Editing - 7/10: Well, the music is great here, if not extraordinarily memorable. Hugo Friedhofer does the composition, and he does a great job. But is it iconic? Eh. Not really. I don’t remember it having a massive impact on me, unfortunately. And the editing...is also OK. That ending is weirdly paced for me, and very abrupt. But J. Watson Webb Jr. does a decent enough job, I think.

That’s an 84%. Huh. Genuinely thought it’d be lower.

This is a good movie, don’t get me wrong. But it’s...complicated. I would recommend it with warnings, I’ll put it that way. Good, great even...but complicated. Outside of that, I have to admire the stance to put Native American tribes on a equal stance, respect-wise. For the time, and for the genre, that’s a rarity. So, as always, credit where credit’s due.

Next up, we continue our foray into the classic Western...but stick with Jimmy Stewart. I wanna give him a second chance. And hopefully, this one doesn’t include a romance with a fifteen year-old. Hopefully.

Next: The Naked Spur (1953); dir. Anthony Mann

#broken arrow #film:broken arrow #broken arrow 1950 #delmer daves #james stewart #jeff chandler #debra paget #jay silverheels #western august #western genre #user365 #365 days 365 movies #365 movie challenge #mygifs #my gifs

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peachlolitasevillacourtstuff · 3 years

Text

Stratos and Oona (story part 4)

* A week has passed since the last part of the president's story, Pac, cyli, spiral, they were still very puzzled by the attitude of the president in the end, Sir.c was suspicious about the date of birth of cedrick, he kept watching doubtfully to the president *

Pac: Sir Sir.c, Still still baffled

Sir.c: yes pacman, I still doubt that the behavior of the president...

Pac: and I haven't asked him

Sir.c: no, I don't want to be reckless with my friend, but I don't know if you want to talk to me..:v

Pac: and if we ask his mom

Sir.c: I don't think you know ..

PAc: neither his sister, nor Elli

Sir.c: elli and arimette I don't think they will respond to that either ... I think we have to leave it at that.

Pac: good * says discouraged *

*outside*

Pinky: hello pac chan ... x3 how's my favorite yellow doing x3

Pac: very discouraged guys ..

Clyde: what's up dude? * asks as usual in his slimy eyes *

Pac: it's about the president's son

Inky: Are you talking about that boy who looks like a dwarf betrayus?🙄

PAc: uh .. yes ..

Blinky: hey pacman do you remember the day we met that boy?

Pac: HAHAHAHA That was a crazy adventure

Pinky: and when I looked at him I wanted to give him lots of kisses and hugs ..> 3 <

Clyde: you always want to give kisses and hugs, fresona yandere

Pac: changing the subject, he has betrayus in his hands again: c

Blinky: well you know how to always try to steal the warehouse ..

* in the round house *

Stratos: Yes, collapse that place, it has been there for almost nine 9, I know it was a commander base and it is a historical area, but it is already forgotten, I do not care! just destroy that betrayus base and now!

* Sir.c enters *

Stratos: hello Sir.c !? How can I help you..

Sir.c: well friend I have no other things to do, but tell me what you do

Stratos: well, I ordered the demolition of a base by my brother, since that base had been inactive for 9 years now, it seemed too stupid to continue having it there.

Sir.c: which base do you mean, hey, was that base where you went to check some more men, to discover all the observatories of Commander Betrayus' tactics?

Stratos: hehe yes ... now if you'll excuse me I'm going to have dinner, together with my son, if you don't mind of course ..

Sir.c: yes of course .. there is no doubt. Heh ..

* betrayus looking from his slimy camera *

Dr.Buttocks: haha without a doubt the very heavy of your brother barely knows how to hide .. xD

Betrayus: It is incredible that after almost 10 years I continue to cultivate that story, although when I think about it I never get to know crush, although the name oona is not so well known to me

Buttler: there is love, the sweet love of the old man

Betrayus: nobody asked your opinion buttler ¬-¬

Buttler: you have to be rude 7-7

Betrayus: well let's see what my older brother is holding * laughs evilly *

*in the dinner*

Cedrick: Dad for dinner

Stratos: toasted bread, and fruit jam ..

Cedrick: again? Why don't we have dinner like Molly's family? >:T

Stratos: no complaints drick, it's all we'll eat ..

Cedrick: oh so bad, do you think we can have a mashed potato tomorrow?

Stratos: I'll see, now he has dinner * he says while eating his toast *

* in his bed late at night *

Stratos: shit .. what do I do with my son and my past .. * she says looking at the ceiling while her past recovers in her mind *

"stratos"

Stratos: OONA!

Oona: I see you very anxious, because you can't sleep

Stratos: Tomorrow Sir.c, the sergeant spheria and more soldiers who do not know will go to a new platoon, which would be a death sentence, in which one of them will not return .. and the worst thing is that it will last 7 days and 7 nights indefinitely

Oona: it's good that you don't go, I don't know what our baby would do without you, or without me

Stratos: oona when all this is over we will get married.. and we will form a great and perfect family I feel it inside me * he says as he touches oona's belly *

* The next morning Stratos had risen early to make simple coffee, he was looking at the cloudy morning of the day, the sky seemed to be depressing, today would start that platoon in which his friend and the sergeant would fight to the death *

Stratos: I wonder how others will go without me * he says taking a sip *

"NGH! S..STRATOS"

Stratos: oona !?

Oona: ngh .. I think it's time .. it's time ..! ngh!

Stratos: OH in the name of world pac! the baby is already to come!

Oona: PLEASE! TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! * she says while amniotic fluids and a little blood come out of her crotch *

Stratos: Don't worry, everything will be fine! just hold on!

Oona: Ngh! Thank you..

*at the hospital*

Stratos: Someone help! my girlfriend is going to give birth!

Doctor: So soon! please take Oona winefrida to the delivery room!

Stratos: you will be fine love and you will be with our baby

"MR. PRESIDENT"

Stratos: WAAAAAAHH! What happens!

Guard: Mr. President, it is already 9 am .. your son did not go to school and the worst thing is that the alarm has been ringing for almost an hour ..

Stratos: oh hell .. I was having a very deep sleep ..

* eight hours later *

Cedrick: SIIIII, THREE DAYS WITHOUT CLASS

Stratos: good son (damn it was my fault it wasn't, tomorrow I will have to give a summons to the school principal)

Pac: good morning Mr. President

Cyli: because cedrick is not at school

Stratos: I fell asleep from more boys ... I really sleep like a wintering bear ^^;

Pac: Well we are 2

Spiral: and that counts again sir

Stratos: not at all guys? and how was it in this mission against the underworld

Pac: as always sir ..

Stratos: I'm glad to hear that

Pac: But we hear they demolished an abandoned base of Commander Betrayus.

Cyli: yes and as soon as we found out that on that same base you and a group of other soldiers investigated that place.

Spiral: what was it like to be in that place ...

Stratos: terrifying, it was as if my brother caught me with his shadow of death on my back ..

Pac, cyli and spiral: woaaaa ...

Stratos: We found all the plans and strategies of this same one ... which fortunately were discarded before they came to light ...

Pac: or that sounds great

Stratos: hehehe .. yes ..

Sir.c: and speaking of that mission ... I also heard that in that same place there was an area where there were probably experiments that are currently unknown.

Stratos: I had forgotten that, but at the same time it was disgusting.

*after that the boys and the president continued with their daily routines of the day, stratos still could not sleep because of what Sir.c had said, experiments on that basis, stratos knew what it meant*

Stratos: god of pac-world kill me ..

"stratos ..."

*said a calm voice in the background*

Stratos: who is!

"many years have passed.."

Stratos: that voice, it seems so familiar to me ..

"That's right, it's me, you remind me"

*suddenly a ghostly light appeared, its color was white and it had the appearance of a fish, she approached stratos carefully*

Stratos: oona! it's really you! are you her spirit

Oona: s stratos, they have let me come to the surface world to see you but my time is limited...

Stratos: where are you now?

Oona: in the heavenly kingdom, it is a wonderful place, only pac-worldes who were good in your life are welcome ..

Stratos: Oona, why are you here?

Oona: I see that you don't sleep well, you don't think clearly, but you can't stay like this at will.

Stratos: cedrick what have you seen? even if it's not your blood and flesh ..

Oona: although it is not my blood and my flesh, I love it, although it does not replace the pain we have been through since our baby was born.

Stratos: I ... I still remember that fateful day, I was supposed to be the happiest, but fate took it from us ...

Doctor: Mister spheros ..

Stratos: how is she doing?

Doctor: even at rest, sir, but there were many complications in childbirth.

Stratos: what happened? she and the baby?

Doctor: the baby is a girl, but how strong is it ..?

Stratos: how strong am I, well how strong to face the commander ^^;

Doctor: I'm very sorry sir .. look at it for your own eyes ..

Stratos: those words froze me, when I entered the room I could find you resting, while next to you our baby in her crib, but when I held her, I realized that her tender and soft cold skin told me that nothing was right with she .. couldn't even hear any single heartbeat in her. Because I wasn't crying ...

Doctor: I am sorry to tell you, Mr. Spheros, the girl died within oona 2 days before birth. We have analyzed it. You and Winefrida were not compatible with having children, it is hard but they must overcome it.

Stratos: Incopatible! ..

Doctor: .. you cannot have children with another person ..

Stratos: I .. no .. * he says as he hugged his crying baby *

Continue...

#pmatga #pac man and the ghostly adventures #pacman and the ghostly adventures #fanfic #cedrick #spheros

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embeanwrites · 4 years

Text

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 12

Masterlist

A/N: One of my editors is in love with Kamski, so she took the lead with this one! Before she added to the chapter it was about three pages shorter haha Follow her @kakyoweenie

I woke up Saturday morning around 10 to a phone call. I didn’t even bother checking who it was before answering.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you up?” It was Tina. I yawned.

“Yeah, but I needed to get up soon anyway. I’m hanging out with a friend from grad school in a couple hours. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. I tried texting you last night to make sure you were okay…was it really that bad?” I chuckled.

“No, it was really fun which was the worst part. Whenever my work or Cyberlife comes up he just shuts down and acts like an ass. I can’t be around someone who doesn’t even understand why I do what I do.”

“That makes sense.” Tina said softly.

“Tina, I’m not a baby, I’m going to be alright. It’s just Gavin, it’s not like he’s the only man in Detroit.”

“That’s true.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I kinda tried to force you guys together. You guys are really different, but there’s something about both of you that I thought would work really well together.”

“Yeah, it’s alright. On the bright side I’m looking forward to tomorrow! Do you want me to wear a suit or a dress to the wedding?”

“Both me and Valerie are letting our best people decide what they want to wear! Our colors are blush pink and light yellow.”

“Alright I’ll think about it and get back to you, but right now I have to get ready for this meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow!” We said bye and I sighed. I stretched and went to my closet.

I still felt angry from the night before. Gavin’s words echoed in my mind; “Why don’t you ask Eli in between him trying to impress you?” If he wanted to play that way, then fine we would play that way.

I stepped out of the automatic taxi in a spaghetti strap summer dress that stopped right before my knees and a pair of gladiator sandals. Eli's house was striking, dark smooth metal reflected the stunningly kept grounds and the floor to ceiling windows sparkled in the sunlight. I walked up the pathway leading to the front door, running my hands over the railing that followed the path, enjoying the lake breeze that washed away the intense summer heat till I got to the door, pressing the bell, and fussing with my phone and purse till a Chloe android opened the door and caught me by surprise, hand still buried in my purse.

“Dr. (L/n), Elijah’s waiting for you in the media room, please follow me.” She turned around and started walking. I followed her down a long hallway that opened into a multitude of rooms, all beautifully decorated, if not a bit coldly. The house didn't feel very cozy or appear to be lived in at all, the perfect modernist home with all its amenities but devoid of all the family photos, the dings on the wall and the frumpy old chairs you'd had since your first apartment. It was lonely, I concluded, as Chloe finally stopped at one of the rooms, where Eli was sprawled on a couch facing away from us, but as Chloe opened the tinted glass door, he turned and grinned at me.

"(Y/n)!" Eli greeted me opening his arms up in welcome as he got up from the couch, moving to meet me halfway into the room. He looked good, tired, his hair in a messy little bun, dark smudges under his eyes, but relaxed in a soft looking black v-neck, and a comfortable looking pair of black joggers. I laughed as I walked into his arms, hugging him tightly, and screeching when he lifted me and twirled me around before setting me back down.

"How many times have I told you not to do that Eli!" I said, still chuckling a bit, as he guided me towards the couch he was just sitting on.

"Hmm, it's been too long I can't recall." He said, stroking his chin mockingly and winking at me before that toothy grin returned. I shoved his shoulder lightly

"You best not be putting all the blame on me Mister Hot-Shot C.E.O!" I joked, as I sat down next to him.

"Oh I would never, but I do remember a certain doctoral candidate choosing a university as far away from Detroit as she could get.” Elijah said pointedly. I huffed a laugh at him, not really knowing what to say. “What are you watching?” I asked, pointing to the TV.

“Ah, President Warren is giving an update on android laws.” He scoffed, his face contorting into a sneer for a moment, before relaxing into an expression of mild displeasure.

“Anything I need to worry about?” I mused after a moment, Elijah didn’t hide his distaste for the president well.

He barked out a laugh, “No, she’s said nothing of value, but when does she? It’s interesting that they keep stalling, you’d think they’d be eager to put in place some sort of laws.” I nodded in agreement. He turned the tv off and turned on the sofa to face me, settling his arm over the back of the couch and leaning in towards me. “But I didn’t invite you over to talk about politics or android laws.”

“Yes, I believe I was invited over because you have a pool?” We both laughed. Eli was still very close, staring intently at me, his cerulean eyes moving all over my face, finally stopping at my eyes. He didn’t break eye contact as he lifted a hand and slowly brushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I smiled softly, looking up at him through my lashes and murmuring a soft ‘thank you.’

This was bordering on too much, I felt guilty leading him on, I needed to get this visit back on track, to ask about Gavin, but I had to be careful, I didn’t want Elijah to react the same way Gavin had last night. I pulled away from Eli, moving to a more reasonable distance. His face dropped for a second, but he quickly remedied that, a cool smirk resting easy on his features. I worried my lip between my teeth for a moment, trying to think how to start this conversation.

“You know Elijah, for as long as we’ve known each other, I really don’t know much about you.” I said, quirking my lips in a smirk mirroring his.

“Ah but you know all the interesting bits (Y/n).” He said, quirking a brow, and folding his arms over his chest loosely, a defensive but not totally unapproachable position.

I sighed, already regretting what I was about to do, and reached my hands out to grab his, capturing one of his hands between the two of mine. “I just, this is hard for me to say Eli, but I’ve had a hard time in Detroit, and I’ve missed my old friends so much and it made me realize I haven’t been a very good one to you. I shared so much with you, I just don’t want to lose you too, not because I never gave you a chance to share or didn’t make you feel as comfortable with me as I do with you.” I implored, my eyes wide and watery, from shame and real emotion, I had been a shitty friend, he seemed so lonely in this big empty house and I never reached out.

Elijah took a deep inhale before pulling me into him, and wrapping me in a deep hug, his nose buried in my neck. He let me go after a moment, and tried to run a hand through his hair, but felt the bun at the back of his head and stopped. “I’m uh, flattered (Y/n).” He coughed awkwardly before continuing. “I haven’t been much of a people person in a long time, and even when we were close I never wanted to burden you with my problems, I wanted to get to know you better.” He said, not quite meeting my eyes as he spoke, until that last bit, when he finally looked up and gave me a small grin.

“Hm, I remember you always liked games, how about we trade a question for a question? That way we both get to learn a little more about each other.” I offered, and he laughed.

“Alright, that seems fair, but I’m pretty sure that’s just open ended twenty questions.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, “Oh? Do you have a better suggestion then?” I asked, quirking a brow and putting my hands on my hips, mockingly defensive. “No no, it’s alright. I’ll go first.” He said in between fading laughs, he brought a hand to his chin, jokingly stroking his goatee. “Hmm, What got you into writing about androids the way you do?”

“That’s an easy one, Eli.” I teased. “Just because their blood is a different color doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be equal. It’s the same as skin tone, gender, sexuality, and everything else that makes us all a little different. Where did you grow up?”

“Ann Arbor. What about you?”

“Detroit until I was 10, after that my family moved so much, I couldn’t even pick a place to name.”

“We never moved growing up, sometimes I wish we had. It was so boring being trapped in the same place for my whole life.”

“Is your family still around?”

“My mom, dad and half-brother are all still alive. What about your family?”

“My mom died of cancer three years ago. You know my dad Hank Anderson; he works for the DPD. My half brother Cole died when I was younger. Were you close with your brother growing up?”

“Half-brother, and no, he stayed with his mom, we never really spent time together, when we did we didn’t get along well, he’s an arrogant prick. What about Connor?”

“What do you mean?”

“How does he fit into your family?”

“I consider him a little brother. What’s his name, your half brother?”

“Gavin. Do you mind that Connor’s an android?”

I held back a gasp, I hadn’t thought Gavin would be Eli’s brother, possibly Gavin had to work a case involving Elijah in some way, but family? I guess they did look pretty similar when I thought about it, but maybe it was just a coincidence. “Of course not, Eli! You should know by now I have no problems with androids. Do you talk to your half-brother ever?”

“Holidays, my dad forces us together, but that’s it. Why are you so curious about him?”

“What am I not allowed to ask questions?” I said teasingly, hoping Elijah couldn’t see through me. “I just want to know more about you.” I gave him a soft smile and he seemed to relax.

“Yes, you’re allowed to ask questions and that one counts!” Overdramatically, I gasped and laughed. “I only have a few more questions, (Y/n).”

“Let me ask mine first!”

“It’s my turn.” He teased.

“Fine.”

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” He asked earnestly, his normal smirk was gone, a soft hopeful expression.

I paused, knowing what he was getting at. I didn’t want to lie to him, but the truth was vague enough it wasn’t too misleading I didn’t think.

“It’s um, it’s complicated, but no, not really.” I said, staring at my hands, not wanting to see his reaction.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, but I think whatever it was is pretty much over.” I laughed awkwardly.

“Ah. I’m sorry if it’s sad, but I’m not too sorry to hear that.” I looked up at him, and he grinned at me, before winking.

“So um, moving on from that, uh, what have you been doing since you left Cyberlife?”

“Oh. Don’t laugh, but right now I’ve been working on android pets, currently I’m still trying to figure out how to incorporate animal behavior into their design, so they aren’t just like regular androids who sit and wait for orders if they aren’t deviants. The cats are proving to be very tricky, as they are little gremlins but I don’t want them to be too awful.”

I squealed and jumped in my seat. “Oh my god how cute! Oh you have to show me please I want to see the kitties!” I grabbed his hands, trying to pull him off the couch.

He laughed heartily, but instead of allowing himself to be pulled up, he pulled me into him, and I stumbled, catching myself on his chest, our faces inches apart. He looked up at me and smiled, a real one, boyish and light, his whole face looked joyous and hopeful.

“Can I kiss you?” I stopped breathing for a moment, he looked so different, so hopeful, almost like he was begging me to say yes with his eyes. It would be so easy to just say yes.

“I…can I ask my question first?”

“It’s my turn, (Y/n), you made the rules.” He said softly, leaning closer, our noses brushing.

“No.” He jerked back as if I had slapped him, and I stumbled back. “I’m sorry, Eli. I just can’t. Not right now.” He nodded, looking away from me at his hands.

“It’s your turn, last question.” He seemed more interested in his hands than myself.

“Is Gavin Reed your half-brother?” He closed his eyes.

“You’ve already met him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“That’s the colleague you spoke of last night.”

“Well, yes and no. I was under the impression I was meeting Nines, not Gavin.”

“But it was Gavin.”

“Yes.” I said softly. I looked down at my shoes. Gavin was jealous because Elijah’s his brother. I told Gavin his brother flirts with me, I told him I called his brother Eli not Mr. Kamski like a professional would.

“You like him, he’s your ‘complicated.’” Another sentence that should’ve been a question, but he was right. “I’ve never been able to get the timing right with you, (Y/n).”

“I’m sorry, Eli. It’s hard for me to separate work from my personal life. If we had met any other way…maybe things would be different, but even now if we were to get involved anymore than we are my work could be discredited.”

“I understand.”

“I’m so sorry.” He nodded. “I’m going to hug you now, is that okay?” He laughed and wrapped his arms around me.

“If you’re ever disgraced from your field, I’m going to expect a call from you.” I laughed and squeezed him.

“I will.” I pulled back. “I should probably go.” He nodded.

“I’ll call you a taxi.” He stood up and I followed him.

“Thank you, Eli.”

I got into the taxi. I had it pull away from the house and stop when the house was out of view. I grabbed my phone and texted Nines.

What’s Gavin’s address?

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #elijah kamski #detroit become human #x reader #dbh

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enchantedbride · 4 years

Text

A Ballad of Brimstone.02 (1/2)

<02. But Let Me Go Back to the Start> (1/2)

Tagging: @curiousobsession101, @goldenworldsabound, @foreveryours-mouse, @juliannos

Warning(s): Brief Profanity, Discussions of Being Kidnapped

A/N: If you like me to tag you in my Obey Me or other Self-ship writings, let me know!

As mentioned in the previous installment, this series of ficlets will be jumping around timeline wise. While the first one offers a glimpse into the future, we now go back to the day Joey was summoned to the Devildom to take part in the exchange program.

Due to how long this wound up being I wound up splitting this into two parts, this is part one of two!

She had slipped into a dark slumber that night. Her mind was held by dreams she wouldn’t remember when she awoke in the morning. But, she would remember the sound of soft, beckoning whispers. In the midst of her dreams, they didn’t seem out of place, almost blending into the surreal sensations he mind conjured.

“Come,” they said. “Come this way. Come to us, into the dark below.”

It was like a round, but the words were spoken rather than sung.

Joey felt a sudden, sharp feeling of hesitation that broke through the murkiness of her dreams. But, in response the whispers became more insistent, and she felt the vague sensation of being pulled away. But to where, she didn’t have the awareness to question.

“You must come. Your fate has been decreed.”

Weakly, she tried to pull back against what was pulling her. At first she stopped, but then a more forceful tug overpowered her.

“Come this way,” the whispers insisted once more. “Come... come...”

It started to feel almost like she was falling. Or perhaps she was floating? It was hard for her to tell the difference. She felt the sensation of cloth and hair fluttering, and then-

A high-pitched voice severed the hold of sleep on her.

“She’s waking up. Everyone stand back and let Mister Barbatos through!”

The next thing she sensed was the feeling of pain and throbbing in her temples. Then, she felt the surface underneath her was harder than she remembered her bed being. Joey let out a groan as she slowly opened her eyes.

“Ow...”

The soft light of what appeared to be distant lamps came into view, only to briefly be obscured by a round, inky silhouette. But, as her brows knit and she attempted to understand what she was seeing, she made out the shape of a pair of small, dark blue eyes looking at her before they disappeared. A moment later, the silhouette was gone.

“It looks like she had a rough ride, sir.”

“So it seems,” a voice lower in tone replied to the high-pitched one she heard first. “Lord Diavolo’s suspicions and mine were correct, it appears. Truly extraordinary for a human who appears to have no magic potential.”

Joey turned her head towards the voices, putting her hands to her temples as she attempted to soothe her headache with gentle circular motions. She saw what appeared to be a man in a suit kneeling down in front of her.

“Please try not to move just yet.”

“O-okay.” Joey didn’t move from where she was or change her position, but she kept her fingers to her head. “Sorry, my head really hurts.” What’s going on here? Am I still dreaming?

“No need to apologize,” he assured her. “Here, take your hands away for a moment.”

She complied, resting her hands on either side of her. She felt...was it stone underneath her? It was also at that moment Joey recognized an array of other noises in the background. She could hear the flow of water, the soft pattering of feet, and the distant caw of crows.

“I’m going to touch your forehead,” he explained. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah.” Is he going to check me for a fever?

Joey felt him gently press the tips of his fingers to her forehead, and whisper something she couldn’t quite make out. No, I don’t think this is a dream. This feels too stable to not be real. But then, why am I not in my bed? Where am I? ...Ah! Suddenly, she felt the throbbing pain begin to subside.

“There. Does that feel better?”

“Yes, I’m starting to feel better!” Joey replied. But then she blinked in surprise. “Did you do that? If so, thank you!”

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “I used a minor incantation to ease your pain. It was no trouble.”

“Incantation?” Joey asked. “As in...? You used magic? Real magic?” Or maybe I am dreaming after all?

“Yes,” the man answered her without hesitation. “I take it you’re not the sort of person who believes in magic?”

“Well...” Joey however, did hesitate. “I’ve always wanted to believe there was magic. But I’ve never really seen it. Or... recognized it, I guess.”

“I see. I’m afraid you may have a hard time accepting your current set of circumstances then.”

“You mean, where I am and what’s going on?”

“Precisely.” The man withdrew his hand from her slightly, moving to offer it to her. “Do you think you can stand? If so, try to get up slowly. You can use my hand for support if you’d like.”

“I think so.” Joey pressed her hands to the ground for a moment to help herself sit up. She then took him up on his offer, taking the offered hand to use as leverage to carefully bring herself to her feet. She took a breath for a moment, closing her eyes and opening them again to better take in her surroundings.

“Who are you?” It appeared to be nighttime. The sky was dark with distant stars offering little in the way of light. But there were lamps close by more clearly illuminating stone walkways. They went every which way around a fountain and a bed of flowers that wrapped around it. Though the flowers were nothing like anything Joey recognized.

The air also carried with it smells she didn’t recognize either.

“Ah, of course. I should introduce myself. My name is Barbatos,” said the man. “I believe I already know who you are, however. Your name is Joey Andews, correct?”

“Yes, my name is Joey. But, how do you already know my name?” As if things weren’t already weird enough, she thought.

Barbatos simply smiled. “I’m afraid that will require me first to answer your original questions about what’s happening and where you are. Allow me to start with the latter.” He paused for a moment, looking away from her. Joey followed it and realized that eventually the walkways all went into a large building that surrounded them on all sides.

A courtyard of some kind? Joey wondered. She turned her attention back to him and nodded.

“You’re in a place called the Devildom,” explained Barbatos. “It is the realm of Demonkind, ruled by the Demon King in name. Although my master, his son and heir Prince Diavolo has been governing the realm for some time.” He paused, looking back at her. “It was his wish and his will that brought you here.”

Bewilderment spread across Joey’s face. There was also a knot of fear beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. “The land of Demonkind? Where I come from the name for where demons live is...”

“Hell?” Barbatos cut in to predict the end of her thought. “The realm that sinful and evil human’s souls are banished to in death? Oh, that’s certainly part of it, but there’s more to our realm than most humans speak of to one another.”

Joey felt the instinctive need to take a step back, but she restrained herself. “Okay, so I’m in the realm of Demons. And Prince Diavolo brought me here. Have I got the story straight so far?”

“Indeed you do,” Barbatos confirmed. “Unfortunately there was a bit of a mishap in trying to get you here. You have quite the strong will it seems, Miss Andrews.” At this he laughed. “You resisted my master’s call to the point that you went off course and wound up a bit further away then where you were supposed to appear. But, I was sent to fetch you and guide you to where Lord Diavolo is at present.”

My dream... “I-I see.” But what would a prince of demons want with me? What’s going to happen to me!?

“Your willpower will serve you well here. You may not have magic to protect you, but you have that, at least.” He remarked. “But, I digress. Lord Diavolo has summoned you here to assist him with an undertaking of his- an exchange program between the realms of demons, humans, and angels.”

“An exchange program...?” Joey questioned him. “You make it sound like he intends me to be a student in a school down here.” She of course was joking. Surely he meant something else.

Barbatos laughed once more. “Actually, that’s precisely what he intends.” He turned away again. “We are currently in the courtyard of the Royal Diavolo Academy, or RAD for short as it’s often called. I would say it most closely resembles a university or other similar institutions you may find in the human world,” he explained. “My master founded the school long ago, but he is also enrolled here as a student and serves as President of the Student Council. He is forever trying to improve himself and the Devildom, and thus is forever on a quest to learn, and encourage others to do the same.”

“That’s... quite an admirable thing.” Joey found herself struggling to word what she wanted to say. “So, I’m to be a student at this Royal Diavolo Academy?”

“Exactly.” Barbatos nodded. “You will be joined by two other humans like yourself and three Angels who hail from the Celestial Realm. We’ve sent three of our own to the Celestial Realm, and another three to the Human world to attend schools there for the duration of the exchange, which will be a year on Earth.

“My master’s hope is to foster understanding and respect among angels, humans, and demons, and bring a peace between the realms not seen before. It truly is an ambitious project, I must admit.”

“No kidding!” Joey blinked, face shifting between expressions as she attempted to process everything she was being told. “If what little I know of demons and angels has taught me anything, is peace between them and humans is not an easy thing to achieve. Most people believe it’s impossible.”

“Many angels and demons believe that as well,” Barbatos noted. “But my lord believes otherwise. And, I am certain it lies within the realm of possibility.”

“So then...” Certain pieces began to fall together in her mind. “Was I specifically chosen for this? It wasn’t random or anything? Is that why you know my name?”

“Well... there was an element of randomness to the selection. You were chosen from among many other humans we had information on. But you were specifically chosen from among them, and it is indeed why I know your name.”

Joey thought for a moment. “I think I get the gist of what you're telling me so far,” she said. “But, I’m also wary. And I want to know if I’m allowed to turn this down and ask to be sent home.”

At this Barbatos sighed. “Your wariness is not unwarranted. As to whether you can refuse... you may certainly voice it, but I’m not sure it will be granted. When Lord Diavolo has his mind set on something, it is hard to get him to change course, even if he already has doubts about what he’s doing.That and well... he’s very much used to getting his way, being the Prince of Demons.”

After a moment, Joey raised an eyebrow. One thing was now abundantly clear, and she felt it needed to be said.

“So basically what you’re telling me is I’ve been kidnapped.”

Barbatos fell silent, his brow furrowing as he put his hand to his chin. Joey wasn’t an excellent judge when it came to reading the expressions of others. But were she to take a guess, he was considering what he said next carefully.

This can’t be happening! She screamed internally. You’re telling me demons, angels, and magic are all real. You’re telling me I’ve been snatched by demons to attend what’s basically demon college for... a year he said? This is just... unbelievable! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

“I won’t pretend it is otherwise,” Barbatos finally spoke. “I imagine this is a lot for you to take in. And further still, it must be frightening to be here without prior knowledge and against your will. I doubt you can persuade my master to let you leave and choose another to replace you. You can try if you so like, but I suspect it will prove futile. I can offer you little assurance but this: Diavolo is a demon of honesty. He can tell if anyone is lying, but more importantly to you at this moment, he also never lies. He has made it clear he only intends for the exchange students to attend for a year, and when that year is over, you will be free to go. He will honor his word.”

Joey raised an eyebrow, causing Barbatos to sigh. “I’m sorry I just... I’d certainly like to believe that’s the case. But, it’s kind of hard to be trusting right now given that I was brought here without my consent. And I don’t know you or your master,” said Joey. “But... I do appreciate your attempt to reassure me nonetheless.”

“I’m afraid it’s all I can offer you, Miss Andrews.” Barbatos replied regretfully. “Well... that and perhaps fetching you a change of clothes. I don’t think it would be best to have your first audience with the Prince of Demons in your nightgown.”

“I...” Joey looked down at herself a moment. “Yeah, I suppose that might not be such a bad idea.”

Barbatos smiled, chuckling softly before he became serious once more. “All things considered, I think you’re being rather restrained in your anger about this. And at least somewhat willing to give the benefit of the doubt in spite of your anger.”

“Yeah well...” I’ve just been conditioned to lose my shit internally instead of externally, thanks for noticing. “I’ve always been pretty good at rolling with the punches so to speak.”

“I see.” Barbatos offered a hand. “Well, why don’t we get you changed? I’ll escort you to the assembly hall after.” Joey nodded and took his hand following him down one of the walkways. She noticed Barbatos turn his head and nod to a small shadow with eyes before it faded into the darkness a moment later. She then remembered the silhouette she saw when she first awoke. Another demon? Perhaps a helper to Barbatos, maybe?

This is insane! How do I know I can even trust any of this? How do I know they aren’t just going to… I don’t know, eat me or trap my soul in eternal torment? It seemed all she could really do for now was follow Barbatos and have her audience with his master. Part of her hoped this really was a dream of sorts and that soon she would wake up.

Barbatos took Joey to another part of the building, bringing her into an empty room. A few moments passed in silence between the two before the door opened. A round little creature came scurrying in, and Joey recognized from their eyes that it was the little demon she’d seen before. The demon carried a neatly folded pile of clothing and a hair brush above their head, kneeling down as they presented the pile to Barbatos.

She was then handed the pile and left to herself in the empty room in order to get changed and tidied up. But, as she did so, Joey stayed close to the door, faintly hearing the sound of a phone ringing from just outside. She tried her best to listen in, while also navigating the garments she had been given.

“Apologies, my lord. We will be a little later than expected. It seems she was in nightclothes when she arrived. She’s been given a change of clothes and once she’s dressed and given a chance to tidy up we’ll head down to the assembly hall.”

He’s talking to Prince Diavolo. There was a brief pause, presumably in which there was a reply given.

“I deeply appreciate your patience and good humor in this matter. I promise we’ll be there soon,” said Barbatos. “Miss Andrews is understandably wary and skeptical. But, she’s… surprisingly more composed than I would have expected.” Another pause, but briefer this time. “Has the meeting with the other exchange student already concluded then? … I see. So Mammon is already on his way with her back to the House of Lamentation.”

Joey didn’t take too long to finish dressing herself, smoothing out the wrinkles in the simple dress she was given and tapping the heels of the shoes that came with it. She then quickly brushed her hair and tidied herself up a bit, taking a deep breath before turning the knob of the door to let Barbatos know she was changed and ready. The little demon was outside as well, and took the brush from her before scurrying off into the shadows again.

Barbatos nodded and began to guide her again down the halls of the academy. The interior had an antique, stately feeling to it in terms of aesthetics. But things seemed too spacious for Joey’s personal liking. And shadows seemed to stretch far across the floor.

Eventually they came down a long hallway that seemed to go for some distance. As they walked, Joey could swear she heard the soft sound of sniffling up ahead. Was someone crying? There was also the patter of footsteps that didn’t belong to her or Barbatos.

From behind the corner she saw what appeared to be a man and a woman passing the opposite way. The man seemed to wear a black uniform with his shirt and tie askew, while the woman was dressed in a pair of blue jeans with a baggy t-shirt and tennis shoes.

Once they got closer, it became clear where the source of the sniffling Joey heard before came from. The woman was attempting to rub tears from her eyes and compose herself. Wait… could this be the other exchange student and Mammon that Barbatos spoke of over the phone? I guess they haven’t actually left just yet.

God, she must be so scared.

Joey stopped and attempted to cross to where they were. “Hold on just a sec,” She requested of Barbatos before quickly switching her attention. She couldn’t do much about her situation, but maybe she could at least comfort her fellow captive.

“Excuse me!” Joey called out, returning to a normal tone of voice when she was close enough. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

“Huh?” The man whom she presumed was Mammon noticed her approach and turned around to face her. But, only a moment later he also noticed Barbatos waiting for Joey not too far away. “Barbatos!” He then briefly turned his attention back to Joey. “I guess that means you must be the other human.” He looked back at the woman accompanying him, his brow furrowing. “As if it wasn’t already bad enough I got saddled with babysitting duty.”

Joey registered him addressing her, but continued to approach the other woman. When she didn’t seem to respond to him, the man blocked her path, a clearly annoyed expression on his face.

“Hey! I was talking to you. Show some proper respect for the Great Mammon, human!”

Joey stopped, briefly looking apologetic. So she was right. “Sorry about that. Yeah, I’m the other human exchange student.… I saw my fellow exchange student in distress and I wanted to help them.” She took a split second to think more on what he said and had an idea. I need to convince him to be more favorable so he’ll let me talk. “Again though, you have my apologies, oh great one.”

“Now that’s more like it!” Mammon smiled approvingly. But it was quickly replaced by a frown. “Look, I’m under orders from my older brother Lucifer to take your fellow human back to where the two of you will be staying. If I dawdle for too long he might think I’m slacking off.” He shook his head. “Not that I’m scared of him or anything! Just don’t want anymore trouble than I’m already dealing with. I can’t let you two stay and chat, we need to keep moving.”

“You can’t even spare a minute?” Joey tried to fumble for an excuse he might buy. “I mean, if you’ve got a lot on your plate, having a sniffling human must be grating on your nerves right? Well, if you give me a couple of minutes to talk to her and she calms a bit it’ll be one less thing, right?”

A moment passed. Mammon shook his head, looking back and forth between the two humans. The other woman looked to Joey hopefully.

“You’ve got two minutes,” Mammon finally decided. “But I’m not giving you any more. Make it quick, human.”

Joey nodded. “Thank you so much! I appreciate this.” She walked passed up to the woman, not noticing Mammon’s awkward body language or hearing his muttered ‘yeah yeah whatever’ under his breath.

The other woman pulled her hand away from her face and looked over to Joey. “H-Hi….”

“Hi,” Joey greeted her, a sympathetic expression forming on her face. “My name is Joey. What’s yours?”

“I’m… I’m Katherine, but I usually go by Kat,” she replied. “Are… are you okay? I heard them say you ended up somewhere you weren’t supposed to.”

“Me? Oh, nothing too major. I’m not hurt or anything. Just a bit, well, out of sorts to put it mildly.” Joey huffed. “I’ll be fine. I wanted to see how YOU were doing.”

“I’m terrified!” Kat explained without reservation. “I’ve been taken away from my home! And they won’t let me go back no matter how much I plead. It’s not fair!”

Joey shook her head. “You’re right, it’s not. It sounds like you were taken here against your will too. I’m really sorry. It’s not right. But, unfortunately it doesn’t seem we can do much about that right now. It sucks, but that’s the truth of it.” Joey tried to think quickly before Mammon would insist on her and Kat parting ways. “Hey, is there anything you like to do when you’re stressed out? Or maybe a favorite drink or food you like that’s calming for you?”

“Well…” She thought for a moment. “Mostly I like to go for a run by myself or practice playing my cello. I don’t have my cello though and I don’t think they’d let me go for a run by myself.”

“I see,” Joey replied. “Anything else?”

“I also… sometimes take hot baths. Especially when it’s been cold out.”

“That might work! If it’s possible, when you get to where you’re going to be staying, maybe you can try and take a hot bath as soon as you can? It’s not much but maybe it might help, even just a little.”

“I don’t know,” Kat hesitated. “It just feels like everything is just crazy.”

“Completely understandable,” Joey answered sympathetically. “But maybe giving yourself a little comfort and a chance to destress a bit might help you to think and come down from a state of panic. Maybe there’s not a lot you can do right now, but you can do that, right?”

Kat paused briefly. “I guess so,” she said with a sigh. “Alright. I’ll feel worse if I don’t do anything at all, so I might as well.” She turned her gaze away and then back. “Thank you. For trying to help, I mean.”

I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing, thought Joey.

Kat turned to Mammon. “Sorry for holding things up. I’m ready to go now.” Mammon nodded and started walking, Kat following after him.

“Alright, let’s go!” He answered. “Don’t fall too far behind me, human. It’s my job to keep an eye on you and I don’t want to get blamed if something happens to you.”

Joey was unsure of her true impact on things. But at least now her mind would be at ease knowing she at least tried. But, thanks to the conversation, something else was also on her mind. Kat pleaded to be sent home and she was refused. I guess if she couldn’t convince them my luck might not be so good either. I guess I really should be prepared to be stuck here for a year.

“That was a very brave thing you did,” Barbatos remarked. “Especially considering who you were talking to.”

“You mean Kat? Or Mammon?” Joey asked, confused for a moment. She walked back to Barbatos, waiting for him to start their trek to the assembly hall again.

“I was referring to Mammon in this case,” Barbatos clarified. “He may not look like it as he is now. But, he is a very powerful demon. Among the most powerful in fact.”

Joey blinked looking back in surprise. “Wow, seriously?”

“All members of the Student Council are high ranking demons. Currently, the council includes Prince Diavolo, his right hand, Lucifer, and Lucifer’s six brothers.” Barbatos began to walk, Joey following in step alongside him this time. “Lucifer and his brothers are the avatars of the seven deadly sins, not demons any human should approach too casually under most circumstances. Mammon is the eldest brother after Lucifer and the Avatar of Greed.”

Joey’s eyes widened. “So Mammon’s got some serious weight to throw around.” I guess I really lucked out in managing to flatter my way into trying to help Kat.

“Yes.”

“I’m not so sure that makes me brave,” she replied to Barbatos.

“Would you have ignored your instinct to try and help your fellow human if you knew who it was you were dealing with?”

“Well,” Joey barely paused to give her answer. “No, not really. I might have been more nervous and pessimistic about my chances of persuading him. But, I still would have tried for her sake.”

“Then your actions are no less brave, Miss Andrews,” Barbatos said with a smile. “Now, if you’ll come with me this way, we are nearly at the assembly hall.”

Joey nodded, and attempted to keep pace with Barbatos down a winding and even more spacious hallway. Eventually they came upon a large set of metal doors, with ornate decorations embossed into them. If Joey were to take a guess, this was it. The assembly hall. She followed right up to the doors. And then, Barbartos reached out, pulling on the handle.

“Wait one moment. I need to speak with my lord for a moment. But then, you may enter the assembly hall.”

Indeed he went inside and was gone for maybe a minute or two. She could hear voices but they were muffled from this side of the door. Eventually, Barbatos came back out, pulling the door open and stepping aside for Joey to walk through.

“Right this way.”

Joey began to make her way inside, but not before turning to Barbartos.

“Thanks for helping me get here, and for explaining everything you did Barbatos. I’d be pretty terrified and lost right now otherwise.” I’m still pretty terrified to be honest. But at least I know what I’m dealing with.

“It was no trouble, and it was my express duty to assist you as per my lord’s orders. But, your thanks is appreciated. I wish you the best of luck, whatever your fate may be.”

With that, Joey stepped inside and Barbatos closed the door behind her.

#tales of a magus (fanfiction)#verse (into the dark and back: obey me)#modern persephone (obey me!joey)

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hms-chill · 4 years

Text

The Chaos Before the Storm

@teresalisbon asked for “a RWRB AU where they didn't have that first kiss but they're still friends and what leaks this time is like a private convo between Henry and pez where he manages to both insult and say he's in love with alex and... it goes from there”, and I hope this is everything you wanted!

If you’re not sold by that, my working title for this was “Alex’s Bi Awakening: Speed-Run Edition”

Just a quick heads up that there is homophobia from Henry’s gran in here, and a reference to using alcohol to cope with that. Stay safe y’all.

There are some moments in history that people say they'll never forget. They'll know exactly where they were when they heard the news, know exactly what they were doing and remember it for the rest of their lives. Alex has always been a bit skeptical of that; high school psych taught them about the formation of memories and how easily they can change, and they looked at studies of people confidently claiming two different stories about where they were on 9/11. But he knows that, for the rest of his existence on planet earth, he will remember this day shot by shot, exactly as it happens.

He's on a couch with Nora and June, watching old episodes of Parks and Rec and trying to relax for once when Zahra slams open the door.

"Alexander Gabriel, what did you do?" There's a laptop in her hand, and she slams it on the coffee table in front of them moments after Alex snatches his coffee. June barely has time to pause the TV before Henry's voice is coming out of the laptop speakers, and Alex feels a familiar warmth spread through him before the dread kicks in. This isn't Press Henry, this is a private version of Henry. It's a Henry that should never, ever, be playing from a major news website, but Zahra is playing it from the Mail's homepage nonetheless.

"He just drives me up the fucking wall. I mean, he’s so impulsive all the time; he doesn’t even stop to consider that maybe not all of us can just flaunt everything we are to the world. Maybe, just maybe, some of us have families who won’t support us, and if he could understand that... he’s just so bloody thick, and I hate it so much sometimes. Beside that, he just... he doesn’t listen, or pick up on things; he’s so... you know how Mark Hamill didn't know that Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford were sleeping together when they were filming A New Hope, so he'd just show up for breakfast to hang out? He's like that. He's so confident and sure of himself, but he misses so many things, and I'm trying so hard, but he... I just don’t understand how he can be so... so much, and so himself all the time, especially when everyone’s watching him. I mean, you can do it, but you... you’re only in the public eye because of me.”

“Careful, Babes. I’m more than just your arm candy and attention sponge.” It's Pez's voice, and that makes it worse somehow. Henry is talking to one of the two people who have always been on his side, and it's available for anyone on the planet to listen to.

“You’re also not the son of the president of a global powerhouse.”

“If he makes you so upset, you could just stop seeing him.”

“This is a ‘mope about being in love with an idiot’ session; I don’t actually want you to tell me things. I can’t stop seeing him and we both know it. I’m... I fell too hard, Pez. It was that blasted day in Rio; I was just trying to get through and then he waltzes in, all sunlight and warmth, and he never stopped being that way. Never even gave me a chance to save myself. He’s just all this love and coziness and sunlight, and I’m just a bloody Icarus, I can’t... I’m going to burn myself up just to be near him.“

“Okay, Mister, I think that’s enough of this.” There’s a rustling sound, and a few feeble protests from Henry before he lapses back into singing Alex’s praises.

"He's just... his hair is so nice, and he doesn't care, and he's... he's not scared. I'm so scared all the time, but he's not. He's tough and brave."

"So are you, Hen." There are more sounds of movement, and the voices start moving away. Pez must have gotten Henry up.

"Not as brave as him. He's... he's just himself in front of everyone."

Zahra closes the laptop, turning to Alex. "It cuts off there. This leaked from Buckingham ten minutes ago; we're not sure how or why it happened. But so help me, if you are seeing the prince of Wales, we need to know yesterday."

"I'm... If I'm what? If I'm... no. No, Henry and I are... we're friends. I'm straight. And maybe sometimes I think about how his hair looks really soft and his lips look nice and he looks good in a suit but that’s, like, objective stuff. And one time he spoke French and I couldn't get my brain to work for like two minutes, but that's just because it's impressive when someone knows multiple languages. And yeah, maybe I haven’t been interested in dating since we started hanging out, but we’ve been busy. And maybe he’s the first person I’ve met in years that I can’t imagine a life without, and sometimes I think about how much I miss him when I can't sleep because one time we shared a hotel bed because we were drunk and it was really, really nice, but that’s just like... friend stuff. I mean, yeah, maybe last time we were at the lake house he had his shirt off and I thought about it for like two weeks after, but — oh my god, am I bi?”

Nora’s buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Near the door, Amy’s face sinks into her hand, and June heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Jesus Christ, Alex. You used to sneak into my room to leave greasy little fingerprints all over a picture of him; how are you so smart and yet still this stupid?”

"But I... if I was... shit, I'm... I'm not seeing him, but maybe I want to? Fuck, Z, how is he?"

“Buckingham’s shut down; they’re not talking to anyone. We’re calling every five minutes, but it’s radio silence.”

“I’ll— can I text him? That should be okay, right?”

“You can try. This... we were planning to issue a statement saying the two of you are just good friends, but maybe you should talk to him first. I’ll... your mom doesn't know yet; she's in a secure meeting, but I'm sure we’ll back your play, Alex.”

“I need... I need to talk to Henry.” Henry who he’s been drawn to for years. Henry who’s seen all his weird gross parts and apparently loves him anyway. Henry who just got outed on a major level. Alex isn’t mentioned by name on the recording; lots of important people were in Rio that day. They could claim it’s not about him, and that could be it, but Henry’s stuck. It is undeniably him, and it is undeniably gay.

So Alex texts him. And when he doesn’t answer, he calls. And when that doesn’t go through, he calls again, then calls Bea. And, god bless her, she answers the phone.

“How is he?”

“Alex, I need—“

“Is Henry okay? I need to talk to him.”

“You and the rest of the bloody world.”

“How is he? Is he... what happened?”

“We think a big came in on a bottle of brandy. Gran is furious; we’re not meant to be speaking to anyone outside until he's... until she’s sent him on a date. She’s trying to get one lined up now. I'm... I'm trying to get one of my friends to go, so at least he'll know the girl, but...”

“How is he?”

“He... he’s not good, Alex. He’s... it’s not been good here. Pez was by but they wouldn’t let him in, but they let bloody Phillip come down. Mum stopped by, but she hasn’t been good for much of anything since Dad died. It... I’m just trying to keep him from getting absolutely sloshed or panicking too much. It's... it's mostly crisis management, if I’m honest.”

“Can I talk to him?”

Bea sighs, then says, “Let me ask him. He’s... I think he’s scared to talk to you, Love.”

“I... I understand. I’m not mad, or... or anything. We just... we need to talk. I... I’ll come there. It’ll take ages, but if it’ll help, I... I’ll come to y’all and talk to him face to face.” Alex looks around to see if anyone is going to tell him that won’t work, but he’s alone except for June, stretched out on the couch and trying not to listen. He's not sure when Zahra and the others left, but he's suddenly glad.

“I’ll... I’ll ask him. Give me a moment.”

There’s a bit of white noise, then Alex can hear Bea quietly asking Henry something. He can’t hear the response, but what he can hear of Henry’s voice breaks his heart. It’s shaky, but beyond that it just sounds flat, defeated. All the life, all the beautiful honest bits that make it Henry’s voice, have gone out of it. Alex can picture him, huddled in a couch corner in one of Buckingham’s impersonal rooms full of dead people’s furniture, and it’s awful. Bea says something else, then she’s back, quietly.

“Now’s... he’s not quite up to it. I’m sorry; it’s... it’s been a long few hours, and he...”

“I get it. I know. Just... I hope he’s okay. Tell him that? That I... I’m on his side, and whatever Catholic is left in me is praying to any saint who might be willing to help us out? And when... when he does feel up to it, if he could call me, I... I’d like that. Thank you, Bea.”

“Of course. I... we’ll be thinking about you, too. And whatever Gran says, I’m not going to let them cut you and Pez out of things. You’re just as much a part of this as anyone.”

“Thank you. I'm... I'm glad he has you to love him and fight for him. You’re a gift, Bea, you really are.”

“So are you, you know. I... if he had to give this much of himself to anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

Alex manages a thank you and a goodbye past the sudden lump in his throat, then hangs up and turns to June.

“Uh, Bug? If... if I fly to England right now to try to sort this out, that’s stupid, right?”

“Supremely. I’ll ask if Amy or Cash are free to go with you, and I’ll see if Zahra can get you a hotel in case they won’t let you into Buckingham. Pack for at least three days, and bring your navy suit, the one you wore when Mom got elected. Pack those X-Wing cufflinks if you feel like they’re lucky, silver tie clip, dark gray tie and shoes in case you're meeting the queen. You’ll want a book for the flight, and I’ll get some snacks from the kitchen, then I’ll... I’ll hold down the fort here. Nora and Mom and I will figure out something to say to distract the press from this for as long as we can. We’ll start fostering a litter of kittens or something; the press loves a cute photo op, and we should raise awareness for shelter pets anyway.”

“You’re the best, Bug, I mean it.”

“Oh, and uh, Nora and I... we got you something. I’ll bring it with the snacks.”

She shoos him into his room to pack, and she's back a few minutes later with a bag of snacks and a little pin. It's a lapel pin with two flags, and for a second, Alex assumes it's got the British and American flags, a final component to his just-in-case-you-meet-the-queen look. But then he looks closely, and it’s an American flag and a bi pride flag. He's surprised to realize he's a little choked up.

“Nora's already started trying to find out where the leak came from, but, uh, we love you a lot, and we wanted you to know that as soon as you wanted to tell us.”

“How long have y’all known?”

“Honestly? I knew something was up when I found those fingerprints on Henry’s picture in that magazine. I... I left my door open and didn't throw it out or move it so you could keep going back and tell me whenever you were ready. Nora knew pretty early too; definitely before you and Liam got together. We got this once you and Nora broke up though. And... and a few more. We got like three different flags so we’d be ready no matter what.”

“Before me and Liam... fuck, did I date Liam? Was that a relationship?”

“Alex, I love you so much and I genuinely think you’re brilliant, but sometimes I wonder if your brain is in your head.”

“But we... shit. Shit; I should call him.”

“And do what, Alex? What in the world would calling him do?”

“I don’t know; I could apologize? Catch up?”

“You’re about to fly across an ocean to get yourself a royal boyfriend. Calling your accidental high school ex to 'catch up' can wait.”

“You’re right. Did... did Mom and Z say I can go?”

“They did. I think Z’s going with you, and so’s Cash. They’re prepping a plane now.”

“Thanks, Bug. You... you’re the best.”

“You have everything you need?”

“I think so? Pajamas, clothes, that suit you said, shoes, chargers and adapters...”

“You bring a book?”

“A couple. And hot Cheetos, because Pez likes those but they don’t have them. And a chocolate orange for Henry, because he likes those, and those weird new Oreos, because tradition. It’s good luck to bring them weird Oreos, and they’re always curious about the weird new flavor, even if half of them are shit.”

“It’s going to be fine. We love you, okay? No matter what happens, we love you.”

“I know. I’m not worried about me, I’m... it’s him I’m worried about. His grandma’s already setting up a fake date for him, and he’s all alone in that big palace full of dead people’s shit. And he... it’s just him and Bea against everyone, and I’m scared. I know I've got you and mom and everyone here on my side, but he's... I just... even if it all goes to shit for us, I want him to be okay.”

“And here I thought he was the Prince Charming of the relationship. Go get him, Alex. We’re rooting for you.” She hugs him, and he hugs her back. She beams at him as she pulls away. "This is so Austen; he’ll love it. Very ‘Tilney-going-after-Catherine’ at the end of Northanger. Send Bea and Pez my love, alright? And tell Henry we're all rooting for him here.”

“Of course.”

She’s got another hug for him, then they’re downstairs, and he’s hugging his mom and Nora and climbing in a car with Zahra and Cash. He calls Bea again from the air, and it sounds like Henry’s the closest to sleep he’s going to get. His date is set for the next day, and Bea knows the details. With that, they start to formulate a plan.

The next day, Alex is at the English Rose Café and Tea Shop at 9:48 AM. He’s in a hat, and he sits at an outdoor table with his back to the street. He gets a double espresso, because it’s been a hell of a last 24 hours. Cash is somewhere being inconspicuous, and Alex isn’t sure where exactly that is, but he can feel the support radiating off him.

At 9:52, Pez walks into the shop and sits down near one of the windows. He waves to Alex, and Alex nods, smiling a bit. Bea arrives at 9:56 and joins Pez. Alex’s leg is bouncing under the table. He doesn’t order another coffee, even if he wants to, because any more energy in his system would almost certainly be a disaster.

At 9:58, a very pretty girl sits down at a table near Alex. She smiles at him, he smiles back. He drops a napkin, they both bend to get it, and he hands her a note. She nods.

At 10:01, Alex sees a car pull up behind them in the reflection in the shop’s big front windows. The person who steps out barely looks like Henry. He moves robotically to sit across from the girl, and when he sits, Alex can see the bloodshot eyes, the shaking hands. He’s trying so hard to play the part he’s supposed to play, but he just looks miserable.

He can barely meet the girl’s eyes. The car leaves, but the photographer it drops off is anything but subtle. The girl pushes her hair back and orders for both of them. Henry just nods. The camera clicks.

Then there’s Cash’s voice, asking for directions in the Spanish he’s picked up from the Diaz family. Alex glances over, and the photographer is distracted.

The girl at Henry’s table excuses herself to go to the bathroom. Alex waits a second, then slides over to sit in front of Henry. For a second, he doesn’t react, so Alex reaches over to take one of the shaking hands in his own. Henry starts.

“Alex? What... you can’t be here. This... you can’t...”

“It’s okay. It’s... we need to talk, but just... I’m... fuck, I thought this would be easier to say. I want... if you want to date I’d be down for that. But also I really like being friends. But also, if you wanted to do more than that, I... I’ve maybe very suddenly realized I’ve had a crush on you since I was twelve. I can see Bea’s friend coming, but this is the address for the hotel where I’m staying. She’s going to suggest a walk after this, and if... if you want to talk, I’ll be there. I’m in your corner no matter what, though. Nora and June and everyone back home is, too. You’re the bravest person I know, and I love you.”

Alex is back in his seat before Henry has time to respond, leaving the hotel’s business card on the table. Bea’s friend comes to sit across from Henry, Cash breaks off his conversation with the photographer, and Alex pays for his coffee inside. He stops at Bea and Pez’s table to fill them in, then goes back to his hotel.

He gets there at 10:14. Cash appears by his side at 10:15. Zahra is down from her room at 10:28 to let them know that Buckingham’s official plan is to publish the pictures of the date and act like nothing incriminating was leaked.

At 10:33, Henry and Bea’s friend round the corner. She has an arm around his waist, but it looks more like she’s supporting him than anything else. She asks him something, and he nods. She starts toward them, waving a bit, and Alex is moving almost before he’s aware of it. He meets them half a block from the hotel, wrapping an arm around Henry, too. Bea’s friend shoots him a little smile. Henry is shaking like a leaf, but he gets an arm over Alex’s shoulder nonetheless.

At the hotel, they say goodbye to Bea’s friend, and Alex leads the way to the elevator. He can feel his heart racing, but he’s doing everything he can to stay calm. This isn’t his moment to panic.

The minute the hotel door closes behind them, Alex hugs Henry with everything in him. He can feel the tension in Henry’s body, and he’s been seeing the exhaustion all day, and he wants nothing more than to get rid of all of it. He wants to squeeze the sadness and the anxiety and all the bad things out. But Henry’s still shaking, and he doesn’t move to hug Alex back. After a minute, Alex pulls away and Henry says, “I... I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t... I didn’t... I...”

“Hen? It’s okay. Let’s... let’s sit down.” He has no idea if this is the right thing to do, but he sits on the couch, pulling Henry down with him.

“I’m sorry. I... that shouldn’t... this shouldn’t have happened. None of this should have happened, and you never should have gotten pulled into this, and you have every right to be mad and never speak to me again and I... I’m sorry.”

“What? I’m... I'm not mad. Don’t apologize. I... I’m... I think maybe I have a crush on you, too. It... no, I don’t think. I know I have a thing for you. Sorry; it’s... with time zones and everything, I think it’s been just a little over a day since I realized I was bi, so it’s... it’s an adjustment.”

Henry lets out a bit of a laugh at that, and though it’s miles from what his laugh should be, it’s better than the panic or tears. It's miles better than the numbness he's seen all day.

“That doesn’t change things, though. I mean, I’m into you, but me being bi doesn’t change anything. This whole thing doesn’t have to change anything; if you want to we can just... we can ignore it and go back to being friends.”

Henry shakes his head, and Alex feels a bit of a thrill. “I... I don’t... no. Don’t ignore it. I... if you want to, it... I don’t know if I can, or if I’ll be allowed, but I want... I want to try. With you.”

“Me, too. I really, really want to try with you.”

Henry sniffles a bit, and Alex wraps him in another hug. He buries his face in Alex’s shoulder, and Alex realizes he’s mostly stopped shaking.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, I promise. I’ll make sure.”

“Sorry. I... I might need you to tell me all this again later; I'll think I made it up. I... I’m... I’m a little drunk. I can’t do it sober.”

“Can’t do what?”

“These... these dates. I can’t do them sober anymore, and Bea tried to help today, but she left earlier than me and it...” He trails off with a miserable hiccup.

“Oh, Hen. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry they’re doing this to you; it’s not right. It’s... I’m going to fight your grandma and bring you home with me. And then my family are going to love you to pieces, like they already do, and things will be okay.”

Henry lets out a watery laugh as Alex’s phone buzzes. It’s Bea, so he pets Henry’s hair (which is exactly as soft as he used to imagine) and answers, filling her in and letting her know it’s okay to come up. So she and Pez do, and by the time they’re there, Henry is snoring softly with his face in Alex’s shoulder. Bea just smiles and tells them that Henry hasn’t slept since the leak yesterday morning as she drapes a blanket over him. Pez digs through Alex’s bag to unearth a packet of root beer float Oreos, and he and Bea settle around the coffee table to try them.

They facetime the White House to fill everyone in, and though Alex knows they’ve got a fight coming, he’s strangely calm. Henry is safe, and whatever comes next, they have each other and a family to walk through it with.

On AO3

Notes:

Fun fact; Mark Hamill was "too busy being young and pretty" to notice that Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford were sleeping together/ that he was aggressively cockblocking them on at least one occasion. What an icon. Also, re: June's Northanger reference, Tilney is the Rich Bachelor of the book. His father thinks that Catherine, the hero, isn't good enough for their family and makes her leave their house in a really disgusting show of rudeness and spite. Tilney chases her down and proposes to her anyway, and it's way more romantic and self-sacrificing than anything Fitzwilliam ever did imo. - After this fic, I like to think that Alex, Zahra, and Cash took Henry straight to the airport and back to DC, where he cuddled with the litter of kittens June and Nora picked up and Bea and Pez fought the queen for a while so he could have a break.

#rwrb fic #rwrb #red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue fic #red white and royal au #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #bea fox mountchristen windsor #nora holleran #pez okonjo #june claremont diaz

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

THE TAIL OF THE GHOST : Tales to Read AFTER the Lights Are OUT! : (1 part)

Return to the Master Story Index Return to MLP Fan Fiction Return to TALES TO READ AFTER THE LIGHTS ARE OUT!

THE TAIL OF THE GHOST

by De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2317 words

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author. ////////////// Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

He awoke to the almost feathery sensation of tail hairs flirting softly across his face. Again. The soft, sweet voice of the young mare offered, “Up, Old Warrior! It is time for us to battle another night away!”

Opening one eye, the Old Warrior beheld two things. One, the young mare was right. The sun was setting. Time for him to get up and fry a few hay twists for breakfast.

The other was a bit more awkward to see. The young mare herself. Other than the fact that her mane and tail were darker than the fur that covered the rest of her, there was simply not much to be seen. Her outlines were slightly hazy and he could see the wall mount with his old battle honors and medals right through her.

Years ago, needing to reduce the size of a peacetime army, Master Sargent Warrin had been mustered out for his age and infirmity. Some Infirmity. True, he was missing the tip joint of his right wing. That had failed to slow him down any. Only dumb headquarters brass saw it as an infirmity.

When mustered out, Master Sargent Warrin had got from his forward post in the forest to Fort Everfree Edge faster than the overweight but “fit�� pegasus Lieutenant that had delivered his Orders. The scene that followed had got “insolence” added to his mustering out Orders.

All that he had done, after all, was point out to Base Commander Morrgripe that the UNFIT pony that they were mustering out could out run, out fly and carry a heavier battle pack in the air or on foot than ANY officer in the Fort. That might have been bad enough, but the 950 golden bits that he had won while proving it, including a bet from the BC, had earned him the insolent tag.

Then the Prance border heated up a few years later. For the fourth time! They tried to get him to sign a forced reenlistment.

He had taken great pleasure in rubbing the Infirmity Muster Out in their faces! At that time he was employed flying express post for Princess Luna’s Royal Road Commission. AND had racked up SIX commendations for his swift deliveries!

He was smiling as he looked up at his second wall mount. The commendations for swift post and two of Luna’s Crescents for gallantry in dealing with deadly civil emergencies were in it.

The sweet little mare poked her head through the wall near the stove where he was seasoning his frying hay twists with assorted dried flower tops.

With not a care in the world, she walked on into the kitchen, hooves about 10 cm above the floor. “Smells lovely, Old Warrior. I wish that I could eat some along with you. That is something that I miss a lot.

“Until you came, ponies that stayed here at this old chateau were afraid of me. I just saw you smiling. Was it remembering your Insolence or was it the Fast Post Service that you were remembering?”

He looked up and offered her a small plate of his seasoned hay twist. “It was a little of all three things, Sweetie. The third being you, of course. Mostly you.

“Here, this plate is yours for now. If you cannot eat what I cooked for you, at least you can smell it and share breakfast with me that way.”

Her eyes twinkling, the little mare, Sweetie, sat. On the air. And sniffed appreciatively. He poured her a small cup of the strong Rom black tea that he favored. She smelled that too, a blissfully happy expression on her face.

He watched in fascination as she reached out a hoof and the day’s mail appeared in the same ghostly form as herself. When she took back her hoof, all of his day’s mail was solidly there on the table. She seemed to be pleased at his expression.

He sorted his mail and made a sour expression when he opened one with the Army Retirement Board seal on it. He brightened considerably at the contents of a different envelope It bore the seal of Chancery Court of Princess Luna’s Royal Road Commission.

“I have to go down to Everfree Town, Sweetie. I wish that you could come with me. I enjoy your company.”

She smiled like a conjurer doing a clever slight of hoof trick. “I can. I have followed you to your garden that is in the glen. Because it was daylight, you could not see me but I was there. I am hard to see in bright lamplight too. That does not stop me from seeing you, only you from seeing me.”

“I thought that you were haunting this chateau.”

“I was. Then you came. You were not afraid of me. You even started waking at sunset and spending the night awake, just so that you could see me and talk to me.

“It took some time for me to learn how to talk to you so that you could hear me. Nobody else can hear me at all. I love being able to talk to you. The stories that you tell me of your adventures are endlessly fascinating. I especially like the one about your meeting Princess Luna on the Prance frontier.”

The ex Master Sargent Warrin grinned! “You learned how to move real things and that led you to writing too! I must say that I admire your determination. I would have loved to have you in a platoon of mine!

“Now, let’s go to Equesrian National Bank and try to settle this business!”

Sweetie smiled happily, “I love going out with you! What is Equestrian National Bank?”

Bemused, the old warrior paused in the doorway and looked over at Sweetie, who was simply strolling through the wall of the chateau. There was no porch under her but she did not seem to notice that.

He mused, “Forgot how long ago you died, Sweetie. A bank is a business that takes money from many ponies and then loans it out to businesses, farms and home buyers. They make money off of the loans and then share some of what they make with the ponies they got the money from.

“Usually, everypony sort of wins. While they hold my money, they keep track of how much I have and add on my share of what they earn with it.”

Sweetie had no wings but she easily kept pace with him, seeming to trot along like a pegasus on a well made cloud. Except, of course, there was no cloud!

With a luminous smile she explained, “I have managed to change from haunting the chateau to haunting YOU! That means that I HAVE to stay close! That makes it easy to keep up. The magic of haunting and all of that.”

He flew with happy strokes of powerful wings. She trotted ahead and flirted her ghostly tail in his face sometimes! It made him get a goofy smile on his face every time that she did it. He spiraled down to the Equestrian National Bank and walked in.

He requested a meeting with Mister Horshiz, the branch Vice President of Operations. Instead of having to wait, Mister Horshiz, a really sour gray maned red pony, demanded, “There you are, Warrin! Why are you six days late on the rent for the Royalmont Chateau? You owe us 1500 golden bits plus six days of penalties!”

Warrin looked askance at him. “Not possible. I was PURCHASING the chateau from Princess Luna, who owned it. There is a title deed transfer that my agent told me has been delayed. My making the purchase was the Princess’ idea.”

“I have the DEED right here!”

Horshiz held out a blue scrolled edge document. Warrin’s battle trained reflexes snatched it faster that Horshiz could pull it back. His eyebrows rose at what he saw.

In a saccharine voice he asked, “Where is the original? This is a Chancery Copy and it has been altered. The Royal Seal is a copy, not an original, as required by Crowns Law.”

“That is a trivial detail! Pay the past due rent and penalties or be evicted at once!” Horshiz demanded.

Sweetie’s voice caught Warrin’s attention. “Keep him talking love of mine. I see some very interesting things in this file on his desk!”

Warrin grinned like a shark seeing a helpless swimmer. “When Princess Luna’s personal property deed was so severely delayed in transfer, I wrote to her.”

He held up his envelope with the seal of the Royal Road Chancery Court on it. He read, “Dear Master Sargent (Ret.) Warrin: It is with great pleasure that I enclose your latest Royal Road Fast Post Commendation for assistance in the recent Dappleton Grist Mill dam failure.

“In spite of your Retirement from our Postal Service, your heroic over flight in thunderstorm weather and precise damage assessments made all of the difference for some hundreds of our subjects.

“In response to your request for an audit of the title problem concerning the Royalmont Chateau, I have disturbing news. The Title Deed was sent to the Everfree Town branch of Equestrian National Bank to have the deed transfer to you notarized and the transfer registered.

“Celestia and I jointly agreed, after the Dappleton disaster, to gift the Chateau to you for your many services to our Realm. Along with the deed, all needful fees and a full refund of all the monies that you have paid were sent to the Bank.

“The deed, fees and refund were directly stolen. A Royal Audit has shown other irregularities concerning your accounts at the Everfree EQNB. Among these, your retirement payments from both Our Army and the Royal Road Post System have subverted. The direct golden transfers on the Royal Treasury are being made to Everfree EQNB. They are issuing DRAFTS, which they fail to pay until thirty days have passed, giving them unlawful access to the use of your honorable retirement funds.

“The whole scheme has been directly traced to General Morrgripe of Fort Everfree, who appears to have a grudge against you concerning how your took your Muster Out. Something about losing a bet.

“I may add that due to My personal friendship, stemming from your heroic shielding of my person with your body during a surprise attack by Prance forces, it was my request that you be kept in our Royal Armored Pegassi. However, in the end, such decisions do properly belong to the Base Commander. Then Colonel Morrgripe ordered you Mustered Out.

“I will never forget that you lost your right wing tip when protecting me during the Third Prance Incursion.

“Both General Morrgripe and Branch Vice President Horshiz have been summoned to Our Royal Court to answer charges Under Our Royal Wing, concerning the theft of My personal property and gift. They must also face the subversion of our Royal Retirement System.

“Please find enclosed a fully transferred Title Deed formally Sealed by both my sister Celestia and I. This Deed supersedes any previous documents and is already Registered in all of the appropriate Courts of Law.

“I remain your loyal friend, Princess Luna.”

While Warrin was reading, he noticed with amusement that he could, just barely, see Sweetie. She was laying her hoof on documents from the file on Horshiz’s desk. Like when she picked up his mail at home, the documents faded slowly away while Sweetie grinned.

For his ears alone, she said, “We called them Sharing Associations when I was alive. Losing needed documents is still a favorite ploy, I see. He is losing some that he will wish that he still had!”

Warrin grinned even more widely. He held up his copy of the Chateau’s deed. “You are effectively dead, except that you will be working on the Royal Roads! This one is ALREADY registered by the direct order of BOTH Princesses.

“I was coming to let you know that both the payment by draft and the Deed issues had been taken care of. I was going to let you off the hook on all of this and shaft General Morrgripe, whom I do detest.

“Unfortunately, you just had to try to extort a rent from me for a property that I own outright as a Royal gift.”

Sweetie strolled through Horshiz’s desk and laid her hoof just above Warrin’s lap. A number of documents faded into existence in his lap.

She hugged him, which felt like being surrounded by the softest of feathers.

Whispering in Warrin’s ear, she said, “Come, my love, let us go to our home and leave this pony to his fate.”

Agreeing, Warrin stood, folding the documents into his shoulder pouch. He turned to the stunned Horshiz, “I would love to see you try to claim either rent or eviction. The first thing that the court will do is look to see who owns the property. The Registry will show that it is ME. That will make you prima facie guilty of fraud. You know it, too.

“A pleasant evening to you.”

He stopped by the Police Station and delivered the documents that Sweetie had purloined. He explained, “These are part of the evidence in a case Under the Royal Wing.”

He produced his letter from Princess Luna. The desk pony checked his Wants, Warrants, and Summonses file to confirm the Royal Summons and took the documents, saying, “I will be see to getting these forwarded to the Royal Road Chancery Court.” Shaking his head in disbelief he added, “Stealing from Princess Luna? Not a wise thing to do!”

Warrin’s flight home to the Chateau was in no way hindered by Sweetie getting in front of him and flirting her tail in his face from time to time.

~THE END~

Return to the Master Story Index Return to MLP Fan Fiction Return to TALES TO READ AFTER THE LIGHTS ARE OUT!

#THE TAIL OF THE GHOST #MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT #Written by De Writer

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ddagent · 4 years

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Can I please prompt bakery owner Jaime? Bonus for holiday goodies appearing!

You certainly can! Enjoy.

Jaime rolled over just as his alarm went off; I Wish It Could be Sevenmas Everyday blaring in the still of his apartment. Bleary-eyed, he reached for his phone and slid the snooze toggle. Five minutes to acclimatise; five minutes to accept that it was three-thirty in the morning. But that was the life he had chosen when he had decided to open up a bakery. Gone were the late nights; the long lie-ins. Now Jaime was in the bakery by four in the morning to start his prep.

Ready, willing, Jaime turned on the radio in the kitchen and listened to the Young Wolf and the Snow Man on the university station play Seven Sleeps to Sevenmas. Grinning, he started getting ready for the day.

He hadn’t always wanted to be a baker. In another life, he had been the vice-president of Lannister Holdings. But then there had been the car accident, and the break-up, and during his rehabilitation, he had discovered a love for baking. Using his business acumen, Jaime had relocated far away from his dear family and opened Paws, a bakery close to Winterfell University. It was him and one other employee; an undergrad named Podrick. And Brienne, of course. His favourite customer.

Around seven, Podrick entered through the backdoor. Jaime was kneading dough for the pastries, and only looked up when his employee slid a cup of coffee his way. “Morning, Mister Lannister.”

“Morning, Pod. Should be a busy start this morning: early morning classes; people coming home from all-nighters. Help me put these in the oven, will you?”

Podrick helped with the first batch of croissants, before heading to the front of house to start getting ready for their eight am opening. Jaime continued to bake until the hour grew near, and then began taking his efforts out to the front. Golden pastries stuffed with melted chocolate. Long doughnuts iced with the great swords of Westeros. Sugar cookies with iced snowflakes; gingerbread with the old house sigils. His signature Paws cupcakes, each with a molten centre and an iced paw upon the top. The direwolf cupcake was a favourite in Winterfell: grey icing; chocolate centre. The lion was his personal choice: red icing, caramel centre. Brienne often bought those.

As he flipped the front sign to open, Jaime looked through the window and scanned for her approach. Not yet. But soon.

The first few students came through: tired, haggard, in need of strong coffee and a sugar fix. Podrick served them all whilst Jaime worked on his second batch of baking. Half an hour after opening, Podrick ducked his head into the kitchen and simply said, “She’s here.”

Jaime stopped the stand mixer, wiped his hands on his crimson apron, and strode out to the front. There was a short line; at the back of it stood Brienne Tarth. Tall, as tall as he; wrapped in a blue duffel coat and a long, Tarth FC scarf. She had been the first to step into Paws nearly two years ago. The first to offer him money, the first money he had ever truly earned. Their photograph, a poorly shot selfie to commemorate the moment, still hung in his office. He waved to her now.

“Brienne!”

Flushing, she ducked past the other two in line and came up to the counter. “Morning, Jaime.”

“On your way to Doctor Bolton’s class?” Brienne attended the nearby university, and lived in a student flat not far away. Thankfully, for the sake of his crush, Brienne was in Paws nearly every day.

“Actually, he cancelled, so I’ve got a free morning. I was planning to camp out here, if that’s alright.”

“Of course!” That was why there were tables, and chairs, and mismatched sofas. To encourage customers to stay. And hopefully one would never leave. “What can I get you? Dornish Breakfast tea and a Lion Paw cupcake?”

“Do you have anything new?”

Jaime looked at the glass display. “I have a White Chocolate Walker cake. Oh, and a White Cloak Cheesecake. The only dessert good enough to protect the King.”

Brienne laughed. She was studying history at Winterfell, and she always loved the historical twists to his menu. “Cheesecake sounds good.”

“I’ll bring it over to you.”

He ignored Podrick’s stare as he prepared Brienne’s tea and the thickest slice of cheesecake on the platter: it was vanilla, with a golden crumb, and caramel drizzle on top in the shape of a crown. He presented it to Brienne with a flourish; her wide smile making his stomach flutter. Most new businesses failed within the first year; even with successful businessmen at the helm. Paws had struggled in the early days, but Brienne’s faith in him – in his baking – had kept him going.

Like her smile, and those blue eyes, did now. “I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Actually...” Brienne ducked her head. “I need a favour. Money’s tight, and Renly is moving in with Loras, and it would just be for the Sevenmas period, but—”

“Yes.”

“—I brought my CV.” She was already digging around in her satchel. Brienne handed him two pages: neatly typed, well-set-out. “I have a little experience in customer service. If there’s any work you could throw my way, I’d be so grateful.”

Brienne wanted to work here. She wanted to work with him. “I love you,” he said, mentally kicking himself for the slip. “I’d love for you to work here, Brienne.” Much better. “You’ve been coming to Paws for so long, it already feels like you’re one of the family. Let me know what hours you can work, and I’ll see where I can fit you in.”

She beamed. “Thank you, Jaime.” Brienne reached out and squeezed his hand. “I promise; I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”

Brienne was a kind, hard-working soul who made the brief moments she stepped into his bakery brighter. Now she would be working here, and Jaime could find out whether he made things a little brighter for her, too.

#braime #jaime x brienne #anonymous #mine: paragraph prompts #ship: braime

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