#back and forth lecturing to his one man audience about stupid things

[deadpoetsandlivinglegends]

Todd doesn’t talk much in the beginning but I think one random night Todd would go on a sudden 35 minute rant while doing Latin homework about how poetic it is that the Latin word for love is amor cause it sounds like armor, and love makes you feel safe, and Neil would sit there and listen, occasionally adding in comments if it seems like Todd is winding down to get him started up again, and after that Neil tries to get Todd to go on rants whenever he can so he can just sit and listen to Todd go on, sometimes it works and sometimes, especially when they are out and Todd feels anxious, it doesn’t, but every time he does talk on for long bouts of time, Neil just thinks ‘love makes you feel safe’

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter sixteen

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1912

"You act like a child."

Levi's voice, though calm, rang a striking forte in the hushed atmosphere of his office. You were used to him raising his voice at you, of course, but this felt different. His repertoire of angry lectures with you were previously livened with notes of discipline and superiority; his tone, now, could only be described as personal.

Your blood ran cold as if the ice dripping from his voice had infected your veins. This is what I wanted, you reminded yourself, trying to make sense somewhere in the emotions of the man in front of you. "I act like a child?" you scoffed in an attempt to save face. You were unsure of what audience you were putting on for -- he saw right through you, and you knew it. You remembered your gleeful grin as you changed clothes before coming, how you practically celebrated with Jean when Levi was out of earshot. It was childish, but you were comfortable with that. It felt justified.

The scene in front of you was less than romantic: Levi stood to face you in front of his desk, his eyes narrowed to a glare. His face was less void of feeling than it typically was; his lips were drawn into a scowl and his brows dipped towards the corners of his slate eyes. There was no tea set, no papers strewn about, and no thing out of place. It was simply you, a spotless room, and an insufferably furious man a couple of yards away.

Your hands were balled into fists at your sides. You were angry in part because he had you figured out -- his first words to you upon your arrival were accusatory. He knew just as well as you did that you and Jean were playing a silly game. You both knew it was designed to get under his skin. This didn't make him any less pissed off, of course, and likely only fueled his fire further.

"Yes, you do," he asserted. His glare was unending and unforgiving, boring into you like knives as you put forth your best effort not to cower. "Children play fucking pretend."

"What makes you think it was pretend?" you questioned him, insulted by his critique of your acting skills. For the pain it required, you thought, you deserved a bit of recognition.

"Are you insinuating that you're actually in some kind of relationship with Kirstein?" he inquired, knuckles growing white as he dug his nails into his palms.

You considered your answer carefully -- admitting guilt too early may not lead to the most peaceful conversation; on the other hand, neither would keeping the lie going. Avoiding the question altogether seemed to be the most logical choice. "What does it matter to you anyway?" you asked him, trying to deflect. Regardless of your intentions, you were curious to hear his answer. If he truly didn't care about you as you did about him, he would have no opinion about what you did and didn't do with Jean -- or any other guy, for that matter.

"You know exactly why it matters to me," he hissed, his glare breaking momentarily to show the most minuscule bit of softness. It took no time to return to his hard, unforgiving stare.

You groaned, close to losing your cool. "I actually have no fucking clue why it would matter to you, Levi. I don't understand anything about how you feel," you told him, honestly yet harshly. Your breathing began to balloon your chest as you drew short, shallow breaths; the physical reaction behind your fury was conspicuous and annoying. "You haven't spoken to me outside of scolding since I was in the infirmary; even the last few days there, you gave me the cold shoulder without any explanation. How the hell am I supposed to know how you feel?"

You watched him sigh, removing his nails from his palms so that he could rest his face in his hands, his eyes hiding behind his fingers as considered your words. "You aren't --" he started, breaking off midway. There was a strange tone to his voice now, more understanding, more sad, yet still angry. It was like satin laid over barbed wire. "You aren't even supposed to be considering how I feel. You can't think of me that way."

Fury bellowed within you like a match on the floor of a rickety wooden house; it overtook you as the fire would, enveloping you completely and without remorse. Your mind raced with disbelief  -- how were you to keep from thinking of him that way? He opened that door wide with his stupid, comforting teatime chats and tiny smiles, with tender touches and lingering caresses long past the hours that would be considered appropriate for him to be alone with you.

It took longer than you would have liked for the words to travel from your brain to your tongue. Now you were the one raising your voice. "You made me think of you that way! You're fucking impossible, Levi, do you know that? How can you pretend that there's nothing between you and me?"

"Because there is nothing between you and me. You have a stupid schoolgirl crush, and I'm trying to get these dumbass ideas out of your head," he argued, face twisting yet again. His words pressed tight against your heart, pain oozing through the rigid wall your anger had built by hand. Still, you refused to let it fall.

"Then why do you care so much about me putting on a show for you with Jean today? Why was it so important that I had to be called to your office like you're going to make me clean the dorms over it? Your words don't align one bit with your actions, but I'm the crazy one." Your hands shook at your sides as you yelled at him; you didn't care if Erwin, Hange, or every scout you knew heard you. You were sick of the embarrassment he brought you. For every second you've been happy with him, there was an equal and opposite force of mortification. You would yell at him until your voice couldn't handle it any longer -- anything to get your point across.

Seeing Levi so full of emotion was rare. If you weren't so overtaken by rage you might have saved a moment to appreciate it. His typical straight-set lips hung open as you watched all the  things he wanted to say pass over his tongue. His eyes were dancing with anger, sadness, passion, yearning, annoyance, confusion -- all at once, one after the other like a montage of color. Your anger blinded you. You had a million and one harsh replies to a million harsh things you thought he could say, but you had no answer to what finally came out of his mouth when all of the emotion in his eyes settled within him.

"I knew you were doing it to bother me," he began, his tone gentler than it was before. "And the worst part was that it did. I couldn't stand to see someone touch you that way, even if it was all for show."

You hadn't expected that. The anger in you hadn't died, but the breath you took after hearing that was the most satisfying one you'd ever had, as if you were in atop a mountain breathing the cool oxygen for the first time. You studied him closely, meeting his soft eyes with the most understanding gaze you could muster. "Why couldn't you stand it?" you coaxed him, waiting to hear the words.

He let go an irritated sigh. "God damn it," he grumbled. He took a long step toward you, leaving only a few feet of distance now. "I --" he shook his head, "I can't do this with you."

You rolled your eyes with ever ounce of energy in your body. He came even closer, but you weren't paying attention. "Of course you can't. You get so close to finally just admitting the truth, and then you hide from it because it's impossible to admit that you have feelings for me." You were yelling again, despite how he was closing in on you. You hoped you were giving him a headache as he inched closer.

"It's inappropriate for you to even think that that's a possibility," he shouted back.

As he stood only a foot away and your words exchanged grew ever louder, you wondered where the crescendo would end. One of you would have to quiet down eventually -- and you would be damned before backing down. "I don't know why you think I give a shit about what's appropriate, Levi!"

"I know you don't give a shit. It's pretty fucking obvious."

"Then why are we even talking about this? Why didn't you just keep ignoring me?"

"Because I couldn't. I--" he broke off again, his eyes darting around to read your face. "I just -- You know what? Fuck it." Before you could process it, he took another step forward. His hand launched to the back of your head, the feeling of his fingertips somehow still gentle despite his rough movements as he pulled you towards him.

His lips crashed onto yours with a reckless abandon.

Your hands came to his chest to push him away, but once realization set in, you left them to rest there. His fingers began to tangle themselves in your hair as his inhibitions disappeared, every muscle losing its tension and every thought fading to static. What he lacked in the argument became clear in how he enveloped you; the screaming match seemed to continue into the way your lips battled, still ever-building.

Your hands left his chest to loop round his neck, one of them wandering off to grip his hair similar to the hold he had on you. His arm snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him, every curve in your body neutralized by a curve in his until it was difficult to tell where you ended and he began.

The time-slowing force that visited with absolute ecstasy had paid you mind, permitting you to relish in every movement. The kiss was deepening and deepening and deepening, leaving you to wonder what was left to explore, and yet still keeping you captivated with every second. In this moment, every doubt or worry was solved, and you would be content to never experience anything else; to stay clutched tightly in Levi's arms seemed like a well-enough fate to spend all of eternity. Despite your pleas to whatever controlled the universe to leave you just where you were forever, it had to end. The sight you saw when he pulled away was almost as satisfying as the kiss itself: Levi, eyes wide and almost frenzied, lips red and the tiniest bit swollen. When he pulled away, he did nothing to alter the position of your bodies, still pressed as tightly together as humanly possible, unsure of how to separate and not wanting to find out, either. He gazed into your eyes for only a second, light pants filling the space between you as you searched each other's faces for answers to questions you were unsure of. You brought your hand from the back of his head to rest on his cheek, tilting your head just slightly as if to get a better look.

Without exchanging words, the two of you had finally come to an agreement. You closed your eyes as his lips attacked yours once again.

[silver-wield]

I just saw the quote of Nojima in Case of Tifa from OtWtaS said there were things didn’t go well between Cloud and Tifa, and this will be the same even without Geostigma and Sephiroth. Can you explain this and let me know the full interview? Because it seems like out of context from Nojima, and I saw people are twisting it

OTWTAS interview

‘Episode Tifa’ … first off, there’s the premise that things won’t go well between Tifa and Cloud, and that even without Geostigma or Sephiroth this might be the same. I don’t really intend to go on about my views on love or marriage or family (laughs). After ACC, I guess Denzel and Marlene could help them work it out. Maybe things would have gone well with Aerith, but I think there is a great burden from Aerith.

Oh, I remember. I also wanted to write about Cloud through Tifa. It certainly can be difficult to ascertain his feelings. (laughs)”

That's the original paragraph from the interview, along with a translation. It says the premise is it won't go well and might be the same. It's not a definte statement. It's a maybe. Because life and relationships are complicated and take work. Which is a theme of AC.

Basically, Nojima is summarising CoT where Tifa and Cloud have hit a rough patch after being together for nearly two years. Elmyra made Cloud deliver flowers to the forgotten city where Aerith died and that triggered Cloud's guilt that he couldn't save Aerith from Sephiroth. We know Cloud is someone who takes his job and himself too seriously at times. He wallowed in CC when he couldn't protect a scientist and he sulked when he couldn't save Tifa, and he instinctively goes to save a random guy in Wall Market's coliseum at the opening of the Beast Master battle in Remake.

At the same time, he's also found Denzel, who's a survivor of the sector 7 collapse, which is also a guilt trigger for him and Tifa because they believe it's their fault they couldn't stop the collapse. Denzel has geostigma so Cloud throws himself into finding a cure because he believes this is a way to redemption and resolving part of his guilt. He doesn't explain his feelings to Tifa because he's afraid of letting her down.

Which we also see in Nomura's interview about Cloud in AC. People always assume this is about Aerith, but that's a very limited way to look at it. Cloud lost his home, past, mother and best friend.

Several times, Cloud hasn't been able to do anything. Nibelheim twice, he couldn't save that scientist, Zack died for him, sector 7 collapsed and Aerith died. There's more to Cloud than that lake scene.

Nojima goes on to say Marlene and Denzel could help Cloud and Tifa work through their problems, which isn't any different to any other relationship where the couple's kids want to keep their parents together.

From the AC prologue we see that Tifa’s described as an abandoned woman. Definitely not how a friend is described. If they're just friends then why does she feel abandoned and why is this line even there? The description would read that Cloud was living there, then left. Instead it's loaded with romantic implication. Nojima even adds at the end that Tifa has expressed her true feelings to Cloud a lot. She doesn't lecture, she lets Cloud form his own conclusions because she doesn't baby him. Even when she does give him a talking to, she feels bad about it because she's not the type to confront others.

So, pretty much all this goes towards building the relationship between them and explaining why Cloud ran away for a few days. His guilt at letting others die, which isn't even his fault, overwhelms him because he thinks he doesn't have a right to be happy. He only starts thinking this way because Elmyra makes him go to the forgotten city. Before that he was doing okay, although he still felt bad about Denzel being sick. So, this is why Nojima says he and Tifa will struggle. Because Cloud's the type to catastrophise everything and make things into a big deal when they're not. He hides it from Tifa because he doesn't want to worry her because one of her traits is to leap into reckless situations when she's feeling hopeless.

This is awhile before the start of AC, and one of the first things that happens to Tifa while Cloud's gone is she nearly dies in the fight with Loz. His worry for her safety isn't unjustified and we see it again in Remake.

When Tifa feels hopeless she does stupid things, so Cloud would do his best to prevent her getting hurt because he's feeling like he can't be the hero everyone expects. Even though, deep down he knows Tifa never expected him to do anything except try his best.

They have a very complex relationship, so it's not easy to sum up in a couple of sentences. Nojima brings up Aerith to say it would be even more hopeless between her and Cloud because she has a duty to the planet, which is more important than Cloud. The comparison is that Aerith can't help Cloud the way Tifa can. It's why she's not Cloud's heroine. Her role is too big for one man to take precedence, but Tifa's role is to be Cloud's heroine, which is why she can take on all of these complicated moments and help him resolve his personal issues. Because of her own problems to do with guilt and loss it's harder for her than normal relationship issues, which is why they both need a little push.

This is literally right after AC finishes, so Cloud is back with his family and they're going home.

Then a couple of days later we have reminiscence of FF where we hear Cloud asking Tifa on a date. And we see a year later in DC that he's still with Tifa and much more playful. There's some cute back and forth between him and Tifa while they're in the middle of a battle, so it's clear he's past things. The group also no longer wear the memorial ribbons for Aerith.

So, taken as a whole and using all of the information about both Cloud and Tifa's characters we can conclude from this earlier interview about AC that Nojima's describing the complex relationship between them and not saying anything negative. The thing people overlook is that when the devs talk about the game and characters they're speaking from a place where they know everything. They know every facet of each character and situation. Nojima knows more about the scenario than anyone because he wrote it. Nomura understands Cloud because he created him, so any background is mostly his insight with some from Nojima's story development.

The fact they know the characters means their comments sometimes don't take into account that the audience isn't aware of the compilation as a whole. We can't look at comments like this and understand exactly what's meant at first glance because we don't know everything. It's why players misinterpret things and then blame the devs for poor translation. It's not a poor translation. It's just different perspectives.

[cloudbatcave]

The vampire looked off into the distance, searching for something they seemed not to find, yet when they looked back it was not with dissatisfaction. Their face was thoughtful, the long pointed ears ever so slightly arched upward.

“It’s likely I can’t be good. But what is goodness? It’s less great deeds and more many little ones, I’ve found. I’ve watched empires rise and fall, and certainly, some single acts have incredible weight. Humans love that story; one hero saving the rest. It’s not a bad story to like, either. It’s relatable. Humans are individuals; they want to hear what individuals can do. They want comfort, and why not? They live in a terrifying world.”

Jessica shifted, her feline ears flattening a little as she bit her lip, wondering if she should protest at the obvious meaning of the last line. If she could protest.

“Well, what does that have to do with it?” She said instead, slightly snappish but more worried than anything. “You still haven’t said what you think.”

“Patience, I’m getting there.” They waved a finger at her, just as her sister said they’d always done when lecturing and she half wanted to laugh, half wanted to strangle them. How had Elly ever put up with so many tangents?

God, Elly had put up with so much.

She forced back the stupid tears that threatened to pour out of her again. She was so sick of crying.

“Jessica?”

They were looking at her, concern in their bright green eyes.

“Yeah. Go on. I’m fine.”

“You can always tell me to stop, you know.” They reminded her gently, slender fingers clasped together.

They clutch their hands when they’re trying not to fret - you wouldn’t think a vamp would be so anxious, Jessie, it’s the funniest thing.

“Don’t. Don’t stop right now.”

She needed noise. There was too much empty space. Background babble was better.

They looked mildly confused along with concerned, but nodded.

“It matters because I am not really an individual as humans understand it. I look like one, I can function like one, but I don’t have the morality of a single person. I have the morality - or perhaps the lack of morality - of a superorganism. Every semblance of manners and decency, I had to actively learn. I don’t have a human’s natural impulse to care for their kind, to slow down for others, to ask about their feelings.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Everyone has to learn those, Tuuya. Babies aren’t born knowing them. So what if you’re a little...” she tilted her hand back and forth. “...you know. You do those things. That’s what matters. Plenty of humans - and other species - suck balls at them.”

“How very utilitarian of you.” They replied, teasing approval in their voice before they sobered. “But lacking a natural tendency for warmth and kindness would be seen by many as unsettling and make my actions appear fake or hollow. Not an invalid view.”

“Oh my god.” The young woman groaned, stretching her arms out and extending her claws. “How does your head not hurt thinking about this all the time. Do you argue with yourself when you don’t have a class to hold captive? Is that why you teach, to have an audience who needs you for a grade?”

“Blast, you’ve found me out.” They said mock-sorrowfully, ears drooping for effect. “I became a professor because no one would hold still long enough to talk to me otherwise. Damned annoying having to keep tying them down.”

Jessica laughed much louder than she meant to. It wasn’t even that funny, it was just...she’d had such a long day, and it was ending with some sort of worm swarm being the person she had to rely on right now. What the fuck was her life.

How was this real? She felt like any moment Elly was going to walk through the door, the body they’d found had been someone else, and -

No. She couldn’t let herself live in denial. Elly was fucking dead, and they were going to find her killer, and Jessica was going to beat the shit out of them, claws and teeth and all. Human respectability could kiss her ass.

She didn’t realize she was sitting down until what felt like a while later. Maybe it was, maybe it had only been a few minutes. Time was weird now.

There was a blanket around her, fitting for the autumn chill. The half-Sphinx pulled it closer, more out of habit than anything.

A meal sat on the table in front of her, and judging by the coolness of the plate and the low-burning candle nearby, it had been there a while.

There was a note too, written in green ink, the handwriting swoopy and old-fashioned.

Jessica,

There’s a room for you if you want it, second down the hall on the left. But if you’d rather go back to your apartment, I understand. Find me in my study if you do, I’m grading papers. If you don’t want the food, just put the plastic bag around it so it doesn’t attract ants.

She thought of the empty, dirty apartment, where she could walk in and smell her sister’s deodorant hanging over the place. Where she could eat the ramen leftovers they’d made together two days ago, adding pork belly and garlic and making fun of each other for bad breath. She could sleep on the worn couch, uncomfortable but in a way she’d gotten used to over the last six months.

So quiet.

She takes a few bites of food (she hardly even tastes it) but wraps up the rest. She should probably put it in the fridge but can’t seem to find the energy, so she wanders into the room the vampire has left for her.

It’s a lot more modern than she expected from something - someone so old. But then, the antique furniture Elly always liked was expensive, and professors aren’t paid big bucks. Some people like to imagine all vampires are rich, but she’s always figured that was bull because not all sphinxes like riddles. She’s never seen the appeal.

You’re half-Sphinx, honey, she can hear her father’s gentle voice saying. Things are different for you.

The old man will probably never realize he’s just as bigoted as the people he enjoys ranting about. He thinks he’s such a saint because he doesn’t scream hate. Because he didn’t turn her out on the streets.

Tuuya would rethink their idea of goodness pretty fucking quick if they met him, she thinks acidly. No pride solidarity urges or human empathy for him.

Except when it came to Elly. Elly, who wasn’t his bio daughter, who wasn’t even half a Sphinx, but who could do no fucking wrong, apparently.

Fuck, no, what’s the matter with me? She screamed at herself. Elly was dead, why was she feeling this way? Not that she’d felt great about resenting her when she was alive, either, but...

She dragged her hands down her face, claws sheathing and baring as she tried to reconcile her roiling emotions. Then all the energy went out of her again. What was the point?

The bed was surprisingly comfortable as she flopped in it. Didn’t vampires not need to sleep? What did Tuuya keep an extra room for anyway? Who would even visit the weird old bloodsucker willingly?

God, I’m such a bitch, she thought to herself, half-amused and half-ashamed at her thoughts. They’ve done nothing but help me.

Then again, even they said they probably weren’t really good. But did it matter? Jessica hadn’t met a long list of people she’d actually call ‘good’. Polite was the best you could hope for. Polite and not too damn nosy.

Long as they don’t chew on me in the night, I don’t care, she decided. As long as they help me find the shitstain who did this, and then...

She decided to go to bed instead of thinking about the nebulous and very, very empty space after ‘and then’.

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Cursed G PT 13 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Cu Chulainn)

Previous Part: One - Haku POV / Gil POV, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve

_____

“I did and I just- You need clothes, remember?”

That excuse sounded so piss poor to her own ears. What the hell was she supposed to do with an excuse like that?

Her fingers released the doorjam, unable to keep a good grip.

Her body slammed against the bed, bouncing a moment before the man was over her person. His hands stole her own away, trapping them over her person. She turned her face, but-

He nuzzled her.

There were a great many things she’d expected when the great ancient king was tossing her onto her own bed. Her mind had gone to the worst possible outcome. She’d been- well, she wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking but it was gone the moment that the man started this rubbing.

Hakuno turned her face, locking confused gaze with surprised and confused returned gaze.

“…Ignore that.”

Gilgamesh pulled back, clearing his throat a bit and pulling away from her. The towel was abandoned, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been naked in her home before. At least this time, she didn’t have anyone here to think that she was having sex with Gilgamesh this time around.

Instead of that, she was stuck holding a hand to her cheek and staring after the naked idiot.

“Did you nuzzle?”

“It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t though and they both knew that.

Was… was she safe from that kind of thing?

No, her eyes drifted down the king’s person and it was clear that he wasn’t entirely lost to the mood. He just was thrown off kilter from what he’d done before. He was just confused and upset about what had just happened. There was no doubt in her mind that he had wanted to kiss her just now. He’d intended to do more than what he had done.

Actually, it’d been cute.

“Hakuno, the seamstress. Summon one here.”

“Seamstress? What are you talking about?”

Gilgamesh motioned to his person. “None of your attire will fit, woman. I need clothing to wear, unless you intend to have me wandering behind you in this state.”

“Could you stay home?”

He just stared at her.

It was actually kind of fair that he didn’t want to just stay inside the house all day. He would go out of his mind from the boredom and no doubt end up learning how to use the internet to order more things than she could pay for by remaining in her home.

Besides, she did host study sessions in her home. Her friends would end up coming over to find Gilgamesh draped on her couch like some fucked up hotline stripper.

Oh boy, she could already hear the questions really starting. Not to mention, Sakura had a deep love for petting G. She would notice that her cat had vanished with the sudden appearance of Gilgamesh.

“Woman-“

“I need my phone.”

Gilgamesh was starting to talk to her, but she really didn’t have time to listen to him. Not right now. She needed to contact someone who would be about Gilgamesh’s body structure. She needed someone who had the clothing that had enough elastic and stretch that Gilgamesh would be able to get comfortable enough for long enough to go to the stores with her and pick a few clothes.

Oh, but it was going to be one hell of an awkward get together.

If anyone would listen, it would be him, at least.

“Hakuno.”

Her phone was in the living room, sitting on the coffee table as she looked around for it. She was still dialing when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Hak-“

Her hand pressed to the man’s face, watching those red eyes bug out at her audacity.

“Shush.”

That look on the man’s face said that she might as well have gone ahead with informing him that he was fat and ugly while she was at it. Those eyes were spitting fire, his mouth thinner under her fingers than was probably advisable.

“Hakuno! What’s going on, sleepy head?”

Ah, he must have been with Rani and the others.

The king’s face said he was hearing that other voice. He was not appreciating it either.

“Cu Chulainn,” Hakuno had to close her eyes. She had to look away from the king or she’d never manage this. “I need a favor.”

“I’m down two, remember? What’s wrong?”

Right. He owed her for hanging out with Rin when Rin was in bitch mode. Twice.

“It’s a bit of a complicated story.”

Aka: she really needed a moment to gather her thoughts enough to make up something that would be even remotely possible.

“Dumb it down, I’m supposed to be shitting in here and the others’ll figure out that I’m having Rin set up a formula sheet for me without realizing it if I spend too long in here.”

“I have a naked man in my house and I need to borrow a set of clothes so I can take him out to get his own.”

“Oh…” Cu went quiet for a full minute. She could hear the clock nearby ticking away.

The gentle whirr of the heater could be heard as well before a chuckle came forth. Static hit the phone more than noise, with the man on the other end of the line bursting into laughter.

“A naked… Gods, alright. I don’t even give a shit why. I just want to see what guy you’ve literally ripped the clothes off of and pounded into your mattress. Does he drink?”

“Cu!”

Gilgamesh was glaring deeply at her as she felt her face heat up.

“You’re right. Ask him myself. Give me like… twenty minutes? I have a gym bag in my car he can use the clothes from.”

She was tempted to ask if they were clean, but-

Rin would have killed him for filthy clothes and she really didn’t want to piss off Cu. Upsetting the calmest member of your friend group wasn’t wise.

“See you soon.”

“Hold on!”

She held on.

“I have one, very important question.”

She was really not having time for that one question but- “Okay, what is it?”

“Would you go fishing with him for hours on end in a canoe?”

Her eyes drifted back to Gilgamesh at that question.

Honestly, she’d expected a stupid question about sex or positions or something along those lines. Fishing though…

Cu Chulainn was a fisher.

He was an avid fisher, actually.

Would she go fishing with Gilgamesh?

The man was waiting right now with her hand on his face, glaring at her but not necessarily stopping her from keeping him quiet. He wasn’t grabbing at the phone or touching her in any way that could have ended up making her regret having him in her home.

She’d been fishing before.

It required someone that would listen when things were going on and the important things were at stake. It required someone that wasn’t going to tip the boat over.

“I’d take him.”

“See ya soon.”

She hung up, pulling her hand away a moment before the king was heading back into her kitchen.

“Consider my leniency on your actions your reward for breaking half of this curse, Hakuno. Do not silence me again.”

“I was getting you clothes.”

Not that he was the most appreciative about that, but damn.

“I asked for a seamstress. You asked for another man to bring me his clothing.” The man was drinking.

It wasn’t morning. She really didn’t have a complaint in particular to be giving, but there was something wrong about seeing Gilgamesh pouring a glass of wine and drinking naked at her table. His eyes were locked with hers as he drank from his glass.

“There’s no such things as seamstresses that come make clothes at your house,” Hakuno told him simply, turning away and beginning to clean up the living room. “A few things have changed since you were around, Gilgamesh. You’ve seen a bit. We rode in the car together and attended my classes.”

“Audience halls and lessons on proper stories and propaganda was around when I was human before, Hakuno. You’re not unique for attending an old wanderer’s lectures and observational talks.”

“You had classes?”

He rolled his eyes. “We had teachers and we had wandering mentors. None of this gathering in a room and being graded on your memory, although I do see the benefits on a few things.”

His eyes were drifting to her mathbook.

“I will be looking into your tomes later.”

That sounded like a bad plan.

The only thing that could be worse was possibly handing him all the information that he could need to slaughter his enemies and invest for long after his passing.

“You should have something to eat with that.”

He raised a brow, watching her come into the kitchen and start perusing through the cabinets for something to eat.

She didn’t have too much, but a trip to the store could happen after a trip to the mall. Once they had a wardrobe for Gilgamesh, she could bite her tongue and swipe her card one more time to get them both food at the store.

“What are you planning to make?”

“I’m just going to make some toast and some coffee.”

Cu was coming over.

There was no need to go all out.

No, opting not to was the smarter choice in the end. Her toast was stolen, the king settling onto her couch and turning on the television as they waited for the Celt to arrive. His arm wrapped around her when set climbed onto the couch. His face pressed against her hair as she found herself held tight.

This was weird.

Her couch had company. Human company.

She was actually being held in the man’s arms and kept close. His hand was drifting through her hair a bit, massaging at her scalp, although she wasn’t sure if he was aware of what he was doing.

He was naked. She was in-

Right.

Changing clothes was probably the smarter idea.

Just as the thought came to mind, the universe threw her into trouble.

Her doorknob was turning before she could even get up. A familiar head of blue was sticking in, looking around a moment before the man snorted.

“I have the vague impression I shouldn’t linger.”

Hakuno grabbed the extra blanket from behind the couch, bundling in it as the Celt walked over and grinned.

“Yo. I’m Cu Chulainn.”

“I am Ki-“

“This is Gilgamesh King.” Hakuno introduced, interrupting the man before he could go on for thirty years about himself. “I ran into him while he was doing an architect job.”

“No shit?”

Gilgamesh shrugged.

To her surprise, Cu was grabbing one of the dining room chairs, dragging it in and pulling his bag around.

“I kid you not, this is probably the best news I’ve heard all damn week.” The man pulled out a set of paper, laying them out on the table. “I’ve been havin’ Rin look over these, but she hasn’t done anything with construction. I’ve been helping out, doing an internship, right? The building we’re working on ended up having a foundation problem, but we can’t figure out the source of the issue.”

“Cu, I don’t think-“

But Gilgamesh motioned her off, moving forward and looking at the mapping.

“Trees?”

“Marked. There’s nothing close so there wouldn’t be roots or anything like that to deal with.”

“How’s the soil.”

“More fertile than a girlfriend.”

Gilgamesh was a king. He wouldn’t know the first thing about this kind of stuff. Honestly, she was going to end up in deep shit for this.

Still, she found Gilgamesh waving a hand, dismissing her to dress for the day.

“Tell me what’s around the building.”

There went her one ally for this.

They really needed Cu Chulainn to be on their side for this. If someone didn’t like Gil, then she would have to deal with the end result of that. Gilgamesh could go home somehow, but she was going to be left behind with whatever was left. That was why they weren’t high rollin’ and maxing out her cards.

She didn’t spare a single moment, knowing full well that Cu Chulainn would realize the lie she’d tossed his way.

Yet, the man was laughing when she came back.

“So we just need to investigate the ground for water pockets?”

“Those tend to happen in swamp-like areas,” Gilgamesh told him.

“Smart. We didn’t really dig far so that’d make sense.” Cu tossed the gym bag onto the table and headed for the door. “I’m out. I need to talk to my head crew chief about this. Maybe he’ll let me get paid if I figure this out.”

Gilgamesh gave him a wave.

“Hakuno, he seems like a pain the ass. We’re two doomed idiots, aren’t we?”

“Goodbye, mutt,” Gilgamesh bid the man.

The door closed and Hakuno stared over at the man on the couch.

“Believe it or not, Hakuno, I know when alliances are needed.”

Indeed, it seemed that he did.

“So we’re going to go get you clothing?”

The king drained his glass a moment before nodding. “I will change into this peasant garment and we’ll head out.”

She would pray the entire time he was in the bathroom.

The man was a walking billboard for lost in time.

[imjustthemechanic]

The French Mistake

Part 1/? - A Visitor Part 2/? - The Kulturhistorisk Museum Heist Part 3/? - Cutscene Part 4/? - The Marvel Cinematic Universe Part 5/? - Breathless Part 6/? - Escape at Last Part 7/? - Fox in Socks Part 8/? - Things Go Wrong Part 9/? - Downey and Out Part 10/? - Road Trip Part 11/? - Temptation Part 12/? - An Awful Reunion

Loki finally appears.  He seems to be having more fun than the rest of them.

Steve froze.  Oh shit.

There was no getting out of it now, though. The girl with the microphone was already on her way, and people in the audience were whispering to each other and turning to stare, checking if that were really Chris Evans in the back row.  Then the microphone was in his face, and everybody was waiting for him.

Steve cleared his throat and very carefully arranged the words in his head, not wanting to make a fool of himself.  “If Steve came back,” he said.  “If they found him alive and woke him up while Peggy was still… in the forties.  What would she say to him?”

Peggy… no, that wasn’t Peggy.  The name in the brochure, and the name the girl with the inappropriate question had used, was Hayley. Hayley thought about it for a moment. “Do you want the funny answer, or the heartfelt answer, or what?” she asked.

Steve wanted Peggy’s answer.  Could Hayley Atwell give him that?  “Whatever… I mean, whatever you think is most in-character.”

She nodded and cleared her through.  “Well, it would probably be something like…” and suddenly her voice changed, dropping half a note and adopting Peggy’s more precise accent, in a way that made Steve feel as if all his insides had vanished and left him a hollow shell.  “You self-sacrificing bloody wanker! Do you have any idea how you frightened us all?”

The audience laughed again.  Steve wanted to put his face in his hands and weep.

“All you had to do was give us your position, and we could have been there within hours!” Hayley went on in Peggy’s voice. “You missed our dance, Steve!  You promised!”  She paused, and smiled.  “And then I’m sure she’d kiss him, because she loves him no matter what a plonker he’s been.”

There was applause.  Steve shut his eyes… yes, he had missed their dance.  He’d wanted to die as a punishment for letting Bucky fall, so he’d said nothing and crashed somewhere in the arctic – SHIELD had never told him exactly where.  Now here he was, in the wrong universe chasing a fugitive god and listening to what Peggy would have said.  He could have had that.  He could have been found and gone home with Peggy and Howard and now he might be living happily ever after instead of… instead of whatever the hell his life had become.  Maybe he would even be able to save Bucky in that reality.  Maybe they would have heard about the Winter Soldier program and been able to do something about it.

“Does that answer your question, Chris?” asked Hayley.

Steve wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  “Yeah,” he said into the microphone.  “That’s perfect.”

He sat down again.  Dodger, sensing he was upset, put his head on Steve’s knee, and Steve reached to pet the dog’s neck.

There were more questions.  People wanted to know about the possibility of Netflix picking up season three.  Whether Howard and Dottie would ever meet again.  Whether Maria Collins Carbonell would ever have been part of the show. Whether the characters would have investigated Roswell.  Steve barely listened, but he did notice that most of it was about things that might have been.  He really needed to get up and go – the others were probably wondering where he’d vanished to.  If he left now, though, everybody would wonder why.

There was a woman sitting a few seats up the last row.  She moved closer and tapped Steve on the shoulder.  “Are you okay?”

“Uh.”  Steve looked at her and swallowed.  “Allergies,” he said.

The woman pulled a packet of Kleenex out of her purse.  “Here,” she offered.

“Thanks.”  Steve took one and blew his nose.

The Q&A session ended at ten to noon, in order to leave time for everybody to get to their next round of events.  Steve got up, intending to vanish into the crowd and go straight to Palomino Room D, but with so many people exiting the room at once there wasn’t space to move quickly.  Before he reached the door, Hayley had come up and grabbed his arm.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” she said, and pulled him in for a hug.

Steve almost froze stiff.  It took everything in him to make himself hug her back.  Natasha had suggested he might meet Bucky here, but standing here hugging this woman who looked like Peggy might actually be worse.

“It’s been ages, Chris – it’s good to see you,” Hayley said.  “What are you doing here?  Didn’t I hear you got arrested the other day?”

“That was… that was a misunderstanding.”  Steve sniffled.

Hayley stepped back to look at him from arm’s length, a worried frown on her face.  “Are you all right?” she asked.

He held up the Kleenex.  “Allergies.”

She nodded and squatted down to pet Dodger.  “Well, now that you’re here, you have to do a Dubsmash with me,” she declared.  “Those are the rules!  In fact…” she straightened up and pulled her phone out of her purse.  “I’ve got the perfect song.  Let’s find it…”

Steve blew his nose again.  People around them were watching with no sign of shame, and pulling out phones and cameras to take pictures.  That was no good – the police in California were going to find out that he and Natasha were violating the terms of their bail and that would cost Downey money…

“Here we are!”  Peggy held up her phone and played a short music clip.

Oh, don’t do you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me, I said ‘you’re holding back’, she said ‘shut up and dance with me!’

“We just need to find a place to film it. Maybe they’ll let us use the photo op stage before Tom gets started.  Jim!” she called.

The tall man, the one Steve couldn’t think of a name for, sauntered up smiling.  Whoever he was in Steve’s home universe, apparently in this one he was Jim. “Need me to stand there looking sad while he snogs you senseless again?” he asked.

“Oh, no, I…” Steve began – he couldn’t possibly kiss this woman while she thought he was somebody else.  That wouldn’t be right, but a voice inside him told him he was already in too deep to go back, and might as well come as close to kissing Peggy as he ever would again…

“I knew it!” said Natasha’s voice.  “He’s in here!”

Most of the crowd was out of the room by now, and Natasha had come marching in.  For a moment there was murder in her eyes, but then she saw who Steve was talking to, and her face relaxed into a smile.

“Oh, Scarlett!” said Hayley.  “Do I have something of yours?”

Nat took Steve’s arm.  “Yes, you do,” she said, “and I’m afraid I need him back.”

“Very well, but I’ll want to borrow him again later,” Hayley told her.  “He owes me a Dubsmash!”

“I won’t let him miss it,” Nat promised.  “Later, Hayley!”  With a grip like a vise, she led Steve out into the hall again.  Thor was waiting outside, but Nat marched Steve right past him and into a corner where they could partially hide behind a fake potted tree.  There, she fixed him with her most penetrating glare.

“Really?” she asked.

“I wasn’t going to talk to her.  She talked to me,” said Steve.  It was sort of true – he’d been on the verge of putting his hand down again when Hayley had called on him.  He wondered… had Natasha been lying when she said Rosie was already awake?  It was possible, but if so, Steve was no longer angry with her.  The need to know had just been so powerful.

“You’re lying,” said Nat.

“No, I’m not!” Steve lied.

“Yes, you are!” she insisted.  “After you sat there lecturing me…”

“I know!” Steve said.  “I know, but I had to see her, okay?”

“You told me that wasn’t an excuse,” Nat pointed out.

“It’s still not,” Steve admitted.  “I’m sorry, okay?  Believe me, I’m sorry.”  There were very few things he’d ever been sorrier about.

Thor interrupted.  “We must discuss this later,” he said.  “Right now, we have lost Downey.”

“What?”  Steve and Natasha both looked up.  The hallway was crowded – people were going this way and that to their panels, their activities, and their screenings, and a long lineup had formed outside Palomino Room D for photos with Tom Hiddleston.  Downey was nowhere to be seen, but he was fairly short.  Maybe he was just hiding in the crowd.  Then again, Thor was tall enough to see over almost all of the heads. If Downey were there, surely he would have spotted him.

“Why did you guys leave him alone?” Steve asked, relieved that he wasn’t the only one who’d done something stupid in the past twenty minutes.

“He said he’d hold our place in line,” said Thor.

“He was surrounded by fans, we figured he’d stay there talking to them,” Nat agreed.  “He seems to enjoy the attention almost as much as Stark does.”  She glared at Steve again.  “If we hadn’t had to wander off and find you…”

“Hey, you can’t blame me for him running off!” Steve protested.

“Excuse me!” said a new voice.

For the second time, everybody turned their heads to look.  A group of fans had gathered around.  One was in a very crude Iron Man suit made out of cardboard boxes.  The others were mostly in normal clothing, but with Avengers motifs: one was dressed in red and black with a red hourglass necklace, another in a blue polo shirt with Steve’s shield on it, and so forth.

“Can we help you?” Thor asked them.

“Can we get some pictures of you guys pretending to fight the Chi’Tauri over there?” the girl in the boxes asked eagerly.

The four people they’d noticed being photographed earlier were awkwardly standing around on the other side of the hall, while more pictures were taken.  They had clearly put great effort into their costumes, but it seemed to have made them so popular they were probably having trouble enjoying the convention.

Steve heard a faint growl, and looked down to see Dodger baring his teeth at the quartet.  “Dodger, no,” he said quietly.

“We can do that,” Nat said, “but can you do us a favour in return?  We seem to have lost Bob.  Did any of you see where he went?”

“Bob?” asked the boy in the shield shirt.

“Robert Downey Junior,” Thor clarified.

“Oh!” said a girl in a short yellow dress and a motorcycle jacket.  “I got a selfie with him, but then he spotted Jennifer Connelly and they went to go have coffee or something.  He said he’d be back.”  She held up her camera hopefully.

Steve looked up again at the four people in the Chi’Tauri armor.  One of them appeared to notice him, and gathered his or her friends close to talk to them.

Then the waiting lineup suddenly burst into applause.  This announced the arrival of a very tall man with curly blond hair, wearing a black suit and tie with a green and gold scarf draped around his shoulders.  He smiled and waved to the fans as three security men around him kept anyone from getting too close.

“Pictures are gonna have to wait,” Natasha told the kids.

A number of people in the lineup had sat down to wait – now they stood up again, and everyone arranged themselves into a more formal sort of order.  Many of the waiting fans were dressed as Loki, both men and women, some of the latter in rather revealing interpretations of the costume.  They were all excited, some of them bouncing up and down.  A voice screamed out, “I love you, Tom!”

Loki grinned.  “Ah, it seems I have an army!” he called out.  People squealed and cheered, and then he was gone as the guards escorted him into the room.  He never seemed to have noticed Steve, Natasha, and Thor.

“Popular, isn’t he?” asked Steve.

Nat shook her head.  “I guess since certain people wouldn’t let us catch him on the way in, we’ll have to do it on the way out,” she said.  That would mean waiting around in the hallway for an hour.

“Does that mean pictures after all?” asked the girl in the cardboard Iron Man costume.

[unfinished-collections-blog]

Chapter Two

She watched Gray and Edwin look at each other, at her, back at the pad of paper she’d thrust at them, and then back at her again. That suggested they weren’t happy with her answer. Edwin reached out, snatching the pad from her so quickly that all she could think to do was backpedal toward the other side of the bed and wince.

“Mister Sharpe.” Gabriella rested fingertips on her back, voice like the crack of a whip.

Both men in suits, and even the doctor, went to full attention and rigid. She had to marvel at that. Even when she’d physically been able to speak she’d never been able to do anything like that. After a pregnant pause, Edwin coughed.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke in a gentler tone than she was expecting. She was sure he was angry with her, and with Gabriella. And honestly given the rigidity of his jaw and the lines between his eyes she was relatively sure he was pissed at everything in this room. If something so much as beeped wrong, he was going to hit it. The heart monitor stayed mercifully silent. After a moment, Edwin continued, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just…surprised.” Of course he didn’t mean to. She automatically nodded. He never meant to.

Edwin offered the pad to Gray who considered the writing for a moment. “Angel.” He said, “that’s a pretty name.” Was it? She hadn’t thought about it. She just knew it was the name He gave her and it was what she was to answer to. My name isn’t—

She shook her head a few times and tried to cough.

“No—” Dr. Hamilton stepped forward now, reaching out and after a glance over her head stopping and just resting his hand on the bed. “I know it’s going to be hard—uh – Angel. It’s going to feel strange and be hard to remember. But we had to reconstruct a lot of damage. If you try to cough, you’re going to put a lot of pressure on your vocal cords.”

She swallowed, nodding her assent. She understood the basic idea of what he was trying to say. Don’t clear her throat. Even though it felt so strange.

“Have some water,” he suggested with a smile and gestured to the abandoned cup on the table. Edwin picked it up for her, offering it, and she took it from him with just a nod, not meeting his gaze. A few sips and her throat felt better. “We need you to try your very best not to cough or clear your throat for a few more days. After that, just a little bit of talking, a few minutes at a time, that’s okay. Alright?”

So she wouldn’t have to be mute forever? That was oddly reassuring. She nodded.

Gray spoke up, “Angel, how old are you?”

Her hands went so numb she fumbled the cup, ending up with cold water in her lap and trying very hard not to yelp. She did manage a sharp intake of air and clenched her teeth against more. Fuck that was cold.

“It’s okay,” Gabriella said, voice loud, “this is a good time for you gentlemen to get lost and Miss Angel here to have a shower anyway. She doesn’t need an audience for that. So -- out.”

She watched as Edwin and Gray both narrowed their eyes and pursed their lips, arms crossing as if they were both planning to go to war over that one. It was the Doctor who called her attention. “Angel. Is it okay with you if I speak to these gentlemen about your health while you get showered?”

She didn’t understand what that meant. Was she sick beyond her hurt neck? Would she understand if she was? They seemed to know what was going on at least. She nodded. Edwin and Gray had been, so far, nothing but on her side – even if she was still nervous of the brunette and his soul-piercing stare. He didn’t seem to hate her or want to hurt her, but it was unnerving how quiet he was. At the same time, his voice was the first she’d heard in a long, long time that promised anything more than pain.

She let Gabriella remove the leads attached to her chest and guide her to her feet, rocking dangerously for a moment, and moved with mincing steps toward the bathroom as Gabriella kept one hand on her and one on the IV pole she was dragging along. So far so good. Her heart was thudding in her ears when they got her to the bathroom and she gratefully sat on the white chair in the shower as Gabriella arranged things and then reached for her, pausing – “I’m going to need to take this gown off. Is that okay?”

She felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. Was that okay. She had a choice? What if she said no? It was tempting, just to see what would happen, but good sense and the promise of an actual shower had her nodding her head. With a smile the woman made quick work of the gown, gently removing the sticky electrodes as Angel sat still as the grave. Within minutes she’d started up the shower, removing the shower head and directing it away until it was warm.

Still as unmoving as she could be, she let Gabriella take the lead on rinsing her down and lathering her up. For one thing, she wasn’t positive she remembered how exactly. For another, she was exhausted just from the brief walk.

The shower was fast, Gabriella carefully avoiding getting her neck too wet, and within minutes she was wrapped in a towel. That was when the braided woman sighed, “and of course I forgot to grab the gown. You sit right here for a moment, okay? I don’t want you trying to get up and falling.”

A nod.

Gabriella ducked through the door and almost immediately her eyes went to the sink. Weighing her options. She slipped shakily to her feet and took the few steps to the counter, bracing her hands, and looked in the mirror. She hadn’t seen herself in a mirror in what felt like forever. She wasn’t sure who was looking back at her. Her right eye was swollen, a nasty bruise down her cheek and a heavy split down her lip that also had a stitch in it. She supposed the medication made it not hurt.

Her eyes dropped lower, to her throat, and a shaky hand rose unbidden to the heavy stitching in a neat row that nearly went across the expanse. How had she survived that? Nothing from TV and books that she could remember suggested she should still be breathing. Part of her almost wished she wasn’t. She didn’t look lower, hugging the towel close. She’d been able to see plenty of the scars that decorated her.

“Angel!” Gabriella admonished from the doorway.

The reaction was faster than she was capable of realizing what she was doing and stopping it. Her legs folded and she hit the ground on her knees, pushing off of the balls of her feet and scampering under the overhang of the counter, curling in on herself to protect her head and face. “I’m sorry,” she managed to gasp out, and then cringed again, remembering too late as pain lanced down her throat that she wasn’t supposed to speak.

She heard Gabriella mutter something that sounded a lot like a swear word and then heard her call something out. She’d gotten up after she’d been told not to. She’d broken the rules. She knew better. She’d just been too curious to help it. She should have helped it. Her ears were ringing again, panic burning her chest.

She heard a scuffling then Edwin’s voice, “like hell you’re giving her another sedative. Let me at least try first.” Eyes closed as tightly as they’d go she clenched her hands by her ears, trying to stop the violent shaking. It wasn’t working well. “I’m aware she could hurt herself. But jabbing her with a needle every time she gets upset is just stupid.”

After a few more back and forth comments that she couldn’t quite make out over the ringing of her ears she felt a weight drop down at her side.

Silence, just the ringing. Then a hand on her arm. She cringed, her other side smacking into the wall. “Careful.” Edwin’s voice again. It had to be his. His tone was calmer, softer, than any tone He had ever used. She tried not to move again, eyes squeezed shut so tight she was surprised the tears could escape them. “It’s okay,” the next word sounded like he had to make himself say it, “Angel. Nobody here is going to hurt you.”

Just how did he know that? How did he plan to stop them? He was a big man, Grayson even larger, but so was He and He had knives. What did Edwin have? What was he going to do when He came back for her? She knew she had to still be in trouble. She couldn’t seem to listen to anyone anymore like she was supposed to. Her throat throbbed with the thought of it.

“Angel.” The tone of his voice suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to ger her attention back. “Look at me.” The command tugged her face up just a fraction, her eyes opening slowly as she peeked at his face. He looked firm, but not angry. His face softened and he reached out, gently touching her arm again. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not going to let anyone else.” He sounded so confident. “You’re not in trouble.” He paused, “well, maybe a little. Did the doctor tell you not to talk?” Nod. “Did Gabriella tell you to stay put?” Nod. “Those were both to keep you from hurting you. Okay?” Tiny nod. “There we go then. All better.”

That was it? Just a …semi-stern lecture? She searched his face for a sign of some sort of deceit but didn’t find it. He kept his eyes level on hers even when she struggled to keep meeting his gaze. Her heart was still thudding in her chest like the bird He had named her after. “Now, come on out so we can get you dressed and tucked back in, hm? You must be tired.”

She was tired. He held his hand out with the palm up, slowly enough that it was clearly intentional, and she swallowed. Her throat still hurt, but it didn’t feel like she’d done anything more than irritate it which was a relief. She matched his careful movement and placed her hand in his, realizing how much smaller her pale fingers were than his in the stark relief.

He tugged and she let him guide her back out from her hiding place, eyes darting nervously to the door and back to Edwin. He helped her the few steps to the chair she was meant to remain in and arranged her back into it. “There you are. Now I’m going to go get Gabriella, and you’re going to stay right here without getting up, correct?” There was a sternness to his tone, but one that didn’t hint at an intention to harm her – just an intention to get the point across and be obeyed.

She nodded.

He nodded back and his fingertips brushed over the crown of her head. “Good girl. She’ll be in in just a second.” He paused for a moment, “She wasn’t angry with you, she was afraid you’d hurt yourself, you understand that right?” She didn’t. She nodded. He frowned down at her for a moment, shook his head, and left the room without another word. Frankly she wasn’t sure anyone alive had actually heard him speak that much before. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy talking. But what did she know?

This time, she stayed very still, letting Gabriella come to her, head down and hands tucked into her lap. The tears still wouldn’t stop, sliding unbidden down her cheeks. He never cared if she did or didn’t cry, but she had tried so hard for so long to stop crying. Seemed she’d gotten nowhere with that. When the dark-haired woman returned she avoided eye contact.

Gabriella was the one who crouched in front of her, holding the gown over one knee, “Angel,” her voice was more of a whisper, “it’s okay. I’m not angry with you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just worried and I should have watched my tone, okay?”

Lower lip trembling, she nodded.

Gabriella put a gentle hand on her knee, “I don’t know what you’ve seen. What’s happened. But I do know that you are safe here. Nobody here wants to hurt you. We just want you to be safe. I will try not to shout again, if you promise you’ll try to do what we agree on. Is that fair?”

Swallowing through a thick and painful throat, she nodded again. Gabriella didn’t seem angry. She even smiled, “that a girl, now let’s get you dressed and back to bed, huh?” Nod. The nurse paused for a moment, considering, “you do know that you can tell us no, right? If you want to sit in the chair by the window maybe, or something else within reason, we can do that. We aren’t holding you hostage, sweetheart.”

A nod again, but this time she felt her heart thumping in her chest. She could say no. She didn’t particularly want to go anywhere back to the crisp warm sheets but the idea of having her own choice even if she didn’t have her own voice was overwhelming.

With that, Gabriella gently helped her out of the tightly held towel and into a mint green gown, tying it behind her back for her. Then, with the same careful hands she’d used this entire time she helped her up and brought her back to the bed. She saw Edwin, Gray, and the Doctor huddled by the door deep in conversation as she let herself be guided back down and reattached to the heart monitor and IV.

Conversation, as words were want to do, drifted toward her. “Either way, I don’t think any of those broken bones have ever been set,” CRACK as her arm twisted, “and there’s clear signs of long-term sexual abuse. She seems young but I think she’s older than we’re assuming. For God’s sake she wrote Angle for her name.”

“It’s a common misspelling,” Gray pointed out.

“Yes, but that writing was scrawled like a child, not an adult. I think she’s been with him for a long time.”

“Either way,” Edwin now, “she’s heavily scarred like you mentioned. Worse on the back. That is completely in line with our unsub. And that’s going to suggest she’s been with him for a long time. For that much damage to scar over and over. We didn’t have him marked as someone who would take and keep someone for so long.”

It was Gray again, “Which means the profile is wrong somewhere.”

The doctor, “that’s for you two to figure out. For now, I need my patient to remain calm and heal. We need to assure her that she’s safe. Special Agent Sharpe, you seem to the be the most up to the task so far.”

A sigh, “I’m listed as her outcry witness even though she couldn’t speak. I hope I can keep helping until we find her family. Hopefully once she trusts us more, she’ll feel safe telling us her real name. We’ll keep her--”

Gabriella caught her attention away from the conversation, “I’m going to bandage your neck now that you’re dried off, okay?” Nod. As she worked, the nurse kept up a line of idle chitchat that kept the voices from reaching her again to her frustration. She felt like everyone except her was privy to what was going on. Once she’d been gauzed and taped, Gabriella took her hand and smiled. “Why don’t you watch a little television, huh? Just something relaxing to help you fall asleep.”

Letting the nurse place the remote in her hand, Angel looked down and twisted it back and forth, half marveling. How long had it been since she’d seen one of these things? Did she even still remember how it worked? After a few false starts she managed to figure out the right button to turn the screen in front of her on.

What she didn’t expect was to see her own sleeping face. “—sources describe her as the only known surviving victim of The Gemini, and we are looking to find her family and someone who knows her real name. If you know anything about—”

The remote was snatched from her hand and she jumped, looking at Edwin as he flipped the television back off and pressed a device to his ear, “who the fuck leaked photos of her? Find them. Now.” Her heart thudded into her temples as he turned to Gray, “Call in a backup team. He knows she’s alive now.”

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 3: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/24905436

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

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Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.)

“…..Hey! I should hire you to be my animator!”

Gilbert had gushed out the words as If the suggestion held no consequences. It wasn’t easy to agree to accept a role with little to none reward on top of the already exorbitant piles of coursework which tormented any student…that and the pure fact animation took lots of time- time that some would say they did not own or could not conceivably plan out to section off their talents. Art was supposed to be fun, rewarding, fulfilling. It was always an escape for Matthew and to even consider using any free time (something he did not really have nowadays) on projects that weren’t collectively his own sounded like a plunge into self-afflicted failure.

The last time he dabbled in a project that took over his free time, it was a family chore; almost everything involving Alfred felt like a chore. He had been strapped into the position of creating a concept image for another one of that horrible engineering thingy-ma-bobs Alfred designed. No pay and definitely no reward unless you regard crushing hugs and endless “I knew you could do it bro!” as a deserved gift. It was gruelling. It was work, not exactly ‘art’…

Still…This storyboard contained copious amounts of promise, something I haven’t seen in a while. Sure, Results may not prove worthy and it could be an utter failure, heck his ‘director’ might be a hellish nightmare to deal with (‘He reminds me of Alfred…not necessarily a good sign…’) in spite of all of this Matthew’s slight weakness came into play:

Working with Gilbert was a risk.

Danger. Potentially hazardous to his schedule and academic prospects. That sounded hot fun. To the common public, Matthew was unrecognisable. They, understandably, only saw a fellow who resembled a prodigy- the undesirable sibling that was mentioned in a footnote. A small detail in the background of a portrait of someone much more important. If he was noticed and thoroughly acknowledged, the most people understood was that he was soft-spoken, he was very good at art and was respectful of others.

That’s true but horrifically, Matthew was, realistically, extremely bored. Bored and so unmotivated for anything but art. The craving for something more than just paint on a basic canvas was evident, and his creative mind had been screeching for something more tantalisingly sustaining. Call it what you may, sadistic to his sleep and/or work process or a terrible decision to his report card, Matthew loved risky things. Like hockey.

Maybe that’s why he liked art? His parents responded negatively to his progression into art as it seemed dangerous; a traditional occupation like becoming doctor was bound to be a safe job prospect rather than a ‘starving’ artist. It held so much value. And once again…

Gilbert was a Risk.

That was a factor that changed his hesitant decision to not take the job, taking up the offer seemed like the only real choice. Being slightly ‘unsafe’ sounded…unchained. Of course he would have rules and deadlines but still, it was a creative process that he could let take over his uninterested mind. He was going to do it.

“Okay. Yeah that-That sounds good-“

“Wait?! Really Holy shit danke!”

“I didn’t finish” Matthew's voice had taken a more serious tone as he announced his guidelines, “If I agree, I want something in return and I want a freer rein on your story. I want to be able to change some scene ideas, we work as equals on this or else I don’t do it.”

The media student blinked in reply blankly before nodded his head in understanding,

“…so Mattie, What do you want in return?”

Contemplating on what he wanted, the blonde man debated over what could be a gain from Gilbert. At first, he pondered over getting the media student to buy his coffee every morning so he wouldn’t have to leave his bed early but the responsible voice in his head told him that would be stupid. Laundry after his hockey would be useful but then again, it would be weird having someone know about his hockey obsession in detail...He doubted the paler man knew any good weed dealer so that was out of the picture (Besides, his Dutch childhood friend, Tim, already sources that for Matthew).…that and a near-to-stranger acquaintance should definitely not be involved with his- rather unsavoury- habits

“Can I use you as a Model?”

If it was possible to be strangled by silence, Matthew would have been killed that very moment. In the process of getting ready to blurt out a very traditional Canadian ‘sorry, it’s alright to say no’ Gilbert had narrowed his eyes before eerily nodding for himself as if he had just made a deal with a devil he might regret years down the line. The two boys scrambled to sorting through the intricate plan that the albino has created, marking key scenes and a draft template Matt would draw digitally later on in the ‘calmer’ hours of Friday- if anything like that actually existed, Matthew had convinced himself that the paper drawing would be relatively smooth-sailing to replicate. Sharing toothy grins and even the occasional shuffle and chuckle over new concepts, excitedly the boys exchanged numbers and sorted out deadline dates.

Conversations on 'actual' work diminished and at some point, Matthew’s unfinished summer painting was forgotten; as well as Gilbert’s laptop lid closing, the entire device tucked and buried under paperwork. Bands, Movies and stories flew from each other’s heads into the reciprocating ears back and forth. It felt natural. It felt comforting. It felt nice. Just occupying the former exhaustion of usual loneliness with new found company felt indulgent, really this was something the blonde had been yearning for the past few isolated months (He had friends just not those who were exactly ‘easy’ to talk to). As the boys fondly conversed over everyday idle chat the soft beat of Motion City's Soundtrack 'The Future Freaks Me out' played on- Just as Mattie Noticed from the band shirt, Gilbert had the same taste in music. The thrill of it all sounded lame when he realised he was excited over having a decent conversation, at this point 'what could really get in the way of this perfect afternoon of random sketching and laughable jokes?'

“Heyyyyyy sib….so I was wond-“ Well. The peace lasted while it could. A drastically loud boisterous voice pierced through the solace. Midway the voice seemed to die and as Matthew looked up he realised his newfound peace would be ruined for the rest of the evening, at least that's what could be interpreted when he witnessed his brother's expression:

"WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?" Alfred had choked out and had nearly completely crumpled whatever paper he had been holding. Wincing at the aggressive yet usually intrusive nature and tone of his brother Matthew leant forward with head in his hands and let out what could only describe as a disappointed moan and sgot up stumbling towards his brother.

"Has anyone ever uprightly told you how dramatic you are? I doubt Arth-"  

“HEY HEY NO WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING ARTHUR RIGHT NOW-MATTIE WHAT IS HE DOING IN HERE?!”

If anything, Gilbert was less insulted by being referred to as ‘he’, the majority of his feeling of discomfort stemmed from the fact Alfred never mentioned he had a cute ass brother. Tempted to interject the one-sided conversation, he spectated the two squabbling siblings with the cuter one physically holding Alfred at the door by the shoulders. Wait- Is Matthew Canadian?- Actually, that's a stupid question of course he is...It was obvious considering the boy's room was adorned with RED fucking EVERYWHERE, the occasional hockey sweater on the wall and crooked postcards of typical tourist hotspots like Niagara Falls (Not to mention Canadian flags on any item possible as if some cheesy gift Canadian tourist gift shop- Gilbert had noticed even the abandoned pens on the desk had maple leaf emblems)

But that didn't really add up. The media major tried to do the calculations in his head:

Alfred = American? Yes That's right...

Matthew = Canadian? Well duh, they discussed that earlier and the room...

Matthew = Alfred Brother???  

"Um So...if Mattie is Canadian then how is Alfred Americ-"

"IT'S A FAMILY THING" Both of the two mumbled out as they continued to fuss over each other. Finally, Matthew had stopped Alfred rude gawking and had started lecturing Al over god-knows-what.  

*Buzz* *Buzz*

From his jeans pocket, the Prussian could feel the 'so-very-important' calls of his younger brother, deciding that continuing his project with Matthew would be hopeless with both Alfred and an impatient Ludwig he promptly decided to slip out passed Alfred and bid farewell to the cutie from the room next door.  Was I imagining it or was Matthew blushing? Oh verdammt.