#sending love back through the wires of the internet

[lilacfiresoul]

forbid, april 4 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 1,393 words

thank you to @magswrite & @ninety-two-bees for the cat names for this one, was really struggling to think of some <3

second microfic posted today, only because i want to keep up with the dates for all of them lol and i genuinely am procrastinating uni work

----

So, Regulus can safely say that making a cake is harder than he thought.

It’s not like he’s not following the recipe—he is. He scoured the internet two days ago for a good Devil’s Food cake recipe, eventually finding one he could follow along well enough; he even stopped by the supermarket on his way home from work yesterday to get all the ingredients, writing a list and ticking items off he as went to make sure everything was accounted for.

He’s being thorough, meticulous.

But he’s never baked anything before, and, with rapidly dawning fear, he realises he’s greatly underestimated the skill that goes into it.

Dread, and the crippling desire to make this cake perfect for James, leads Regulus to run flour-dusted fingers through his hair as he squints at the recipe for the buttercream. The recipe tells him not to “over-whip”, but how is he supposed to know what that means? He’s just thankful that James, clearly the cook in this household, has all the equipment and devices needed to bake, so at least he’s got that.

By the hob, two halves of something that resembles a cake cool on a wire rack. They don’t look exactly like the picture, but hopefully it will still taste good. Hopefully.

To be honest, Regulus will be pissed if it doesn’t, as the kitchen is … Well. He glances away from the stand mixer mixing the buttercream ingredients together to stare at the evidence of what he’s been doing this afternoon.

Used bowls and utensils overflow in the sink. The majority of the countertops are clustered with baking ingredients: the bag of flour still open next to the cocoa powder; the egg box flipped open with two eggs missing. If Regulus were to run a finger over the surface, he’d probably find it dusted with a fine layer of flour too, as he learnt the hard way that one has to open a bag of flour slowly.

James usually keeps it spotless, and whilst he doesn’t forbid Regulus from cooking—actually he wholeheartedly encourages it, gazing dreamy-eyed as Regulus tries to focus on what he’s doing and not imagine having him for dessert instead—there’s the unspoken implication that the kitchen is James’ playground, whilst the study/library is Regulus’.

But he’ll clean it all up. He has still an hour and a half before James is due to get back home from work, which is plenty of time to figure out this icing problem, put the cake together, and for Regulus to clean up.

There’s a nervous feeling of anticipation in his stomach when he switches off the mixer, peering in at the icing. It looks good actually, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Okay, this might work.

Just then, one of their two cats, Leo, walks into the kitchen, followed by the other, Astraeus. James had named the former, a gorgeous white cat with one black spot at the base of his tail, and Regulus had named the latter, a Russian Blue with glowing yellow eyes that, when they were adopting cats, Regulus insisted he couldn’t leave behind.

“Hello, you two,” he says, picking up Astraeus and planting a kiss between the cat’s ears before setting her back down again. Leo, always craving being the centre of attention, hops up onto the counter.

Regulus is about to fuss him, too, when he hears the scrape of a key in the front door lock, indicating James is home. Panic flares in his chest, because Regulus is nowhere near done with this cake, and it’s going to spoil the surprise.

“Hi, love!” James calls out, the door closing behind him.

“Hey!” Regulus calls back, glancing around at the kitchen. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath.

At the sound of their other father’s voice, Leo scrabbles into action. In his haste, he knocks into the bag of flour, sending it flying onto the floor—

And exploding everywhere with a loud thud.

“What the hell?” James exclaims from the hallway. “Reggie? Are you okay?”

Spooked, and probably scared of the consequences of his actions, Leo flees, knocking over—it really can’t get any worse, can it?—the box of eggs as he does so. Astraeus, pinning her ears to her head, follows instantly.

And Regulus? Heart literally jumping into his mouth, he manages to catch the eggs in time, only one of them cracking in its cardboard container. Putting them safely back on the counter, he sighs and rests his forehead on the cool surface, taking a deep breath in before answering, “Yeah. I’m okay,” and then turning around to assess the damage.

The bag of flour has well and truly split everywhere, sending white fireworks all over the floor and up the sides of the cupboards. It genuinely looks like a small flurry of fine, powdery snow has blown into the kitchen, as if every single piece of flour has expelled itself from the bag.

James darts around the kitchen doorframe, concern and worry written into the lines of his face, mouth open to ask if Regulus is okay again, when he freezes at the state of the kitchen.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Regulus can feel his heart thundering beneath his chest, loud like a drumbeat. Fuck, he’s in so much trouble. He watches James’ eyes flick from the flour-y explosion on the floor, to the cake cooling on the side, to the unwashed pans in the sink, and then back to Regulus.

Guilt floods through him. He should’ve just gotten a store-bought cake instead. He needn’t have gone to all this trouble, all this hassle, spent all that money, wasted all this time, because now their kitchen is an absolute mess, and they’re going to have to spend James’ birthday cleaning it up.

He almost expects a reprimand when James opens his mouth again, prepares himself for it, his body tensing, eyes narrowing, bracing himself for the reprimand to come—

He does not expect James to burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Reg,” James wheezes, pressing a hand to his mouth. “You— there’s flour all over you …”

Looking down at himself, Regulus groans to find that it’s gotten on him too, though thank God he’s wearing an apron. “Jesus.”

Still laughing, James crosses over, cupping Regulus’ face in his hands. “I’m not talking about the apron, love. It’s,” he gets out between laughs, “it’s on your face. In your hair. What— What have you been doing?”

Fighting a smile, Regulus lets James brush flour from his cheeks and get it out of his hair, and then jerks his face away. “I was trying to make you a cake for your birthday, but, uh. I guess it took a turn. Leo got excited to see you. And you’re home early.”

“They let me go early,” James explains.

“Oh,” Regulus says. And then, because he has to ask, “You’re— not mad?”

“Mad?” James echoes, confused. “Reg, this— is hilarious. I’m flattered, and so, so happy that you went to all this effort for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“But it’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” Regulus says, as if he didn’t whisper it into James’ ear this morning. The relief that James isn’t mad at him makes his knees buckle.

“Thank you, my beloved,” James tells him, turning to the cake on the side. “Is this chocolate cake?”

Regulus nods. “Devil’s Food cake to be precise. I looked up a recipe. I don’t know if it’s any good, but …”

The smile on James’ face could light up Regulus’ night. He steps over to the icing bowl. “This the icing?” and before Regulus can reply, he dips his finger in and licks it off. Regulus’ eyes widen.

“This is good, Reg. Like, really good. You know, you could actually be a good baker.”

“You think so?”

James comes back over to his side, this time cornering Regulus against the counter, one that is, thankfully, empty. “Definitely.”

It’s a long while before they clean up the flour on the floor.

[days-until-burnout]

Can I request Magic Mountain going kaboom dramatized. Also, bonus request that you include a ship you consider underrated. Love your work,

-Internet Rando

OKAY. okay. i got the first part. but the underrated ship will have to be another day! i just got back to writing 'properly' today so it took a long while to get a hang of words. and thank you! glad youve enjoyed these writing. hope you like this one too!

_____

📧 Day 31 -

Characters - Grian & Gem, Skizz & Scar (ft. Joel & Impulse) Words - 1,034 Time - 55 mins Content - Hermitcraft

“Okay, Joel, next you are going to cut the—” Grian said, an audible strain in his voice. Gem squeezed his forearm, and he looked up at her, their faces colored the same. Equal amounts of worry. Anxiety. Any wrong direction or movement would send all of them into the skies, them and their bases. He swallowed as her expression became encouraging, his own mirroring. “—red wire with black and yellow stripes. Tell us what happens.”

Over the communicators, the pair heard a snip, breaths held. They waited a couple seconds, panic slow to sprout before the line crackled, a quiet sigh in the background.

“He’s got it,” Skizz whispered, and they sighed. “No boom, boom yet.”

“You know, G, I still don’t understand why you didn’t let Skizz and me go. Don’t you trust us?”

“Not now Scar!” Gem hissed. They heard a startled yelp from Scar, a stumble back and almost falling. Luckily, no signs of an actual fall. 

Grian breathed in and out a couple times, though Gem could see how hard he was trying to keep it together. Instead of pushing the conversation further, they focused back on the manual in front of them. All the papers and pictures, the thousand combinations of situations and specifications. It was overwhelming, yet she grabbed the pad of paper on her lap, grabbed the pen, and awaited to jot down the response. 

“Some– Some sort of panel opened up on the side. There are numbers… dots and lines… weird scribbly symbols.” Scar re-told a couple seconds after. 

“Still have wires. Same rotation. Five out of seven lights on top,” Skizz added. 

They flipped through the pages, cross-examining their information and findings. Quietly, they discussed, and quickly, they argued. 

Impulse would’ve been much better interpreting all these manuals and instructions. And like Scar said, he and Skizz should have been the ones to disarm the tnt triggers. Which would have let Gem and him as information relayers, and more than anything, interpreters. Maybe if they survived this one, they could swap. 

Gem glanced at the timer, nudging Grian, sharing the same unspoken feeling. 

“Okay, Impulse, ignore the new panel for now. Let’s finish the wires, then we’ll get around to that later.” Gem jumped in, trying to keep a steady tone in her voice. She waited, hearing Skizz and Scar shuffling about, then they gave the go-ahead as they had done the previous times. “Okay. Okay. So we shouldn’t have many wires left, right? From the solid colors, we’ve cut red, black, and blue. From the stripes, we’ve cut blue with black, blue with yellow, and red with black and yellow. And they are not done yet, correct?”

“Affirmative.” They replied in unison. 

“Okay. White then yellow, and that should be all for wires.”

Involuntarily, their eyes glossed over the timer. Still ten minutes, but any wrong move and they could cut their time by half, or even have an explosion. They really, really did not want or need an explosion that big. Just a couple more triggers to minimize the damage, just a couple more and they would be free to go crazy with the remaining tnt clusters. 

A snip. Then another. Silence. Eyes glued to the timer. Every second felt different, like they had somehow forgotten how time worked. Like after every second, every blink, the universe changed the rules of time, bent it at its will, and left them a mess of stringless puppets. 

But no explosion yet. 

Luckily. 

“So?” Gem asked, unusually quiet, like speaking would shatter their reality. Maybe the tnt had gone off, and it had lagged the server so much they were yet to experience the horrors. Maybe they were all dead, and this was her purgatory. Hers and Grian’s. Forever stuck on the place and time frame that doomed all their friends. She bit her lower lip, holding her breath before closing her eyes with an exhale of relief. Never had she been more glad to hear Scar and Skizz tripping over their own feet. 

“Wires down!” Skizz cheered. She heard them high-five, and she could only smile at Grian. He gave her a nod, relief in his face and shoulders too. 

“Alright, boys, two more modules,” Grian spoke next, an airy thing. They could see the end of the tunnel, this was almost over. “To verify, our last modules are the new decoder panel and blinking lights, correct?”

“Correct,” Scar replied. 

“Got it. Alright. Press any button when there is a zero at any point in the timer.” His eyes snapped to the timer as Gem’s did, counting down the seconds until nine minutes. 

Six. Five. Four. Three…

Two…

One—

“Order of button, clockwise rotation, from top. Red. Blue. Green. Yellow.” Skizz sounded nervous, stumbling through some words but still clear and in time. Grian bit the inside of his cheek, flipping to the right page. Gem beside him, pen hovering over the new page, diagram drawn and assigned, ready to write down the patterns. “Yellow battery, if that means anything.”

“Press blue.”

“Nothing.” 

“Follow the pattern. Blue.”

“Blue. Blinked red.”

“Blue, green.”

“Blue. Green. Blinked red.”

“Blue. Green. Green.”

“Blue. Green. Green. Nothing.”

“Blue. Green. Green. Blue.”

“Wait, isn’t Joel colorblind?”

It was comedic. Grian barely caught the tail end of Scar’s words before the whole mountain shook. Debri flew high in the sky as the ground under them collapsed, dirt and pebbles against their arms, screams ripped from their throats. In the distance, past the ringing and erupting floor, they hear more screams. Their papers slashed the air above them as they flailed to each other, holding on as tight as they could. 

Everything stopped eventually, with grumbles and groans of the ground, sobs in their own lips. 

Minutes were like hours. Everything stilled. Frozen. In place. Waiting for them to move. Instead of white clouds and blue skies, they had dust clouds and walls of dirt all around them. They had fallen a couple blocks, not enough to kill them, but enough to take substantial damage. 

The line crackled, so far away suddenly, “Gr– Grian? Gem? … Are … okay? Where … Level … We are … Gem? … G?... Any– … there?”

_____

CLIFFHANGER UPON YE in my defence, i had 5 more mins to write but i didnt want to rush the ending. so this is what you get. also. again. been a week since ive written anything. gimme a break :[ anyhow. WE BACK IN BUSINESS 💪 sorry to joel and impulse, whom i wont be tagging because they dont even appear 😓

[1chi-nii-s4n]

been playing too much fucking zzz recently so have this crimeboys thing thats very vaguely based off it ☆

The door to the shop opened, grabbing Tommy’s attention for a moment, though he quickly recognized the footsteps as Wilbur’s the second his headphones came off. Specifically, him and his guitar. He swore he loved that thing more than him sometimes.

“Back.”

“Hey.”

He felt a chin on top of his head, and he huffed, vertically head butting the taller man without hesitation, smirking a bit when he started to complain.

“Ow! Dickhead. Not even gonna ask me how my day was?”

“Fine,” He didn’t even spare him a glance, continuing to work on the humanoid machine in front of him. “How was your day, Wilbur.”

“It was fine, Tommy.” He spat back with an equal amount of spite. “Secured our first gig, maybe we can finally stop pretending to be a video game cafe as a front.” The tall man walked around, inspecting the bot with a curious eye before opening his mouth again. “Why do you never close these thing’s eyes whenever you turn them off? It’s creepy, mate.”

“Oh you’d know a lot about creepy.” He snorted, digging his face into the control panel he’d currently been working on to hide the rest of his laughter. “Just look at any picture of yourself smiling.

“Oh fuck off with that,” Tommy bit his lip as he tried to keep quiet. “Keep this shit up and I’m telling on you.”

“Oh no, Mr Big Man Wilbur’s gonna tattle on me to the Crowfather.” His eye rolling was extremely audible in his tone. “I doubt he’s even gonna pick up considering how much you call him just to shit talk me.”

“It’s not shit talking it’s called giving a weekly report.” He snapped back, pausing on his way up to the loft. “Keep this up and I’m trashing your side of the room you little prick.”

“Fuck off, no balls.” He mumbled, putting his headphones back in to block whatever noise Wilbur was about to start making. It was a mystery how they didn’t get noise complaints, to be honest.

He was quite pleasantly surprised with the sound of an actual guitar cover of a song, or maybe it was one of his originals, he wasn’t musically adept enough to know the difference, causing him to take his headphones off again to actually listen. He always knew Wilbur had a passing interest in music, to the point where he designed his own Proxy to have music based attacks, but he was never home whenever Wilbur would start seriously practicing. He was pretty damn good all things considered.

For a moment, he pulled away from the wires he’d stuck his face in and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander to a world where they didn’t have to work two equally odd jobs just to barely make ends meet. Where Wilbur was actively following his dream of being a musician and Tommy was… Well, he still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with himself. Definitely not making robotic versions of himself and his friends to send into supernatural war zones, that’s for sure. His gaze flickered to the Internet cafe they’d set up as a front, and for a moment, he imagined himself, maybe a cat and a dog, and a future partner relaxing there on a sunny evening, with Wilbur’s guitar faintly in the background. There were no debts to the Crowfather, no monsters to fight, just pure domestic bliss. It was a simple fantasy, a lot simpler than the insane ideas Wilbur would come to him with, but he liked it that way. He always had a soft spot for the rare quiet moments he’d have with Wilbur after an especially long or hard battle. No arguments, no fighting over who gets the couch- It was nice. That’s how this moment felt to him- A silent agreement between the both of them to not open their mouths and ruin the peace as Wilbur worked his way through improvising a song. Tommy sat back in his seat, spinning around quietly with his head tilted back, absentmindedly moving himself to the beat of whatever Wilbur was cooking, breaking the vow of silence as he finished up.

“You’re a lot better at this than I thought.” He hummed, bouncing his leg as his spinning came to a stop.

“You think so?” Wilbur responded, peering over the edge of the loft.

“Don’t let it get to your head old man, I’m just saying I haven’t heard you actually put effort into your music in forever. You’re usually just playing random shit to make me mad.”

He shook his head and returned back to his bed, inspecting his guitar as he spoke. “I mean, pissing you off is pretty damn funny, but I can’t get off the ground with just making one person mad. I’m serious about this band thing, Tommy. I want us to stop living paycheck to paycheck and actually thrive, you know?”

“Yeah? You are? Here’s hoping it works out for you, then.” He hummed, staring up at the skylight in their ceiling. The sun was warm on his skin, almost as warm as the evening sunset in the vision he made up of their future.

[soulnottainted]

Carry ++ Spine!!

send "carry" plus a f/o name and i'll write a small drabble about them carrying me to bed

"C'mere darlin'," the silver automaton's deep voice chided with a slight chuckle on the end of his words as he scooped up the human effortlessly. Kelsey whined softly, but not exactly in protest, her face burying itself in the bot's shoulder. The S//pine found her eagerness for closeness endearing to him, his blue matter core glowing brightly through his vest at seeing the sweet sight in his arms. "That's it. Get comfy, I'm right here. I'm right here. S//pine's got you."

Humans needed their rest, much more than a hundred year old robots. Despite Kelsey needing 8 hours or more of sleep, The S//pine never bashed her for it and never would. When they had first got together, Kelsey felt awful about needing sleep, that the silver robot would be awake while she was resting. But he insisted that he would be fine, that he wouldn't be bored whilst she slept. Most of the time, if Kelsey was cradled in the cold but soothing arms of her automaton sweetheart, The S//pine would link his neck into the wires that plugged into the internet, to silently surf the web, to collect data and information. But the more he spent with her, the more he unplugged, and now whenever she settled into his arms to sleep, all the automaton did was watch her precious form dream. To him, she was the most beautiful thing his green optics captured.

Entering the Hall of Wires, The S//pine stepped into the middle of the room, the wires and coils bringing the two up into the rafters of the room, holding them there. One cord came down to take over the automaton's hat, exposing the vents on the back of his head. A soft sigh of steam hissed from his black painted lips and through his cheek vents, optics glancing back down to see Kelsey curled up in his hold. Her small hands near her face and holding onto a bit of his vest for security. He smiled to himself. How did he get so lucky? How did he deserve such a beautiful soul to have and to hold? All the songs he had wrote about love over the years, they met their purpose, as they were all for her and her alone.

"Goodnight Kels," The S//pine rumbled softly, his neck rising slightly from his chassis to reach and kiss her forehead before it lowered back in to fasten into the rest of his body again, "Sweet dreams."

If she wasn't asleep already, she would be, as her automaton boyfriend and musician, his purpose to sing, lulled a soft tune close to her ear, coaxing her into a deep slumber.

"Before long, they will build a city along all the sky And anchor it tight to this rock so we can sail right out of here Faux nights fade right into our existence As we travel up the tethers start to float a little as we reach our end..."

[mariacallous]

Before he was kidnapped, Hersh Goldberg-Polin was a big reader. He would absorb himself in different types of books at different times, according to his father, Jonathan Polin. For a while, he was obsessed with biographies of presidents. There was a period he read exclusively about the Holocaust. Lately, he’s been reading books that, Polin says, reflect his son’s curiosity about the world. Right now, the tome by his bed is The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama. For 21 days, it has sat there untouched, as his family waits for Goldberg-Polin to come home.

Polin’s nightmare started on October 7, a date now etched into the Israeli psyche, when Hamas gunmen forced their way through the Gaza border wall, killing entire families, destroying border towns, and kidnapping men, women, and children. Polin was at his local synagogue when the air raid sirens went off. By the time he got home around 9 am, his wife Rachel Goldberg showed him two WhatsApp messages she’d received from their 23-year-old son an hour earlier. “We had back-to-back messages sent to us by Hersh at 8:11 am,” Polin told WIRED. “The first one said, ‘I love you.’ The second one said, ‘I'm sorry.’” They’d seen Goldberg-Polin, a dual Israeli-American citizen, the night before. The family thought he was going camping with a friend. But they soon realized he’d spent the night at the Supernova trance music festival, now known as the place where 260 people were murdered. Many others were taken back to Gaza as hostages.

Polin has spent the past three weeks sifting through photos and videos on social media, trying to piece together what happened to his son after he sent those early morning messages. The day of the attack was well documented, with both victims and perpetrators posting footage online. But most of it was filmed inside Israel. Fewer families have seen videos showing their loved ones inside Gaza. For many, the trail ends at the border, leaving families to look for other signs, such as phone location signals, to try to confirm that their loved ones are among the 224 people now believed to be held hostage.

Polin says the Israeli authorities confirmed the last signal they detected from his son’s phone was on the Gaza side of the border. “When you're living the awful life that we're living today, you have to look for hope and optimism anywhere you can get it,” he says. “So having a phone identification come in from Gaza is something that gave us a small dose of—I don’t know what the word is, not strength, not optimism, it’s hope—hope that he is with his phone and that he is alive.”

Phone pings can help triangulate a device, a method that approximates location based on the signal a phone sends to nearby cell phone towers when the device makes phone calls, sends messages, or accesses the internet. A person doesn’t have to be actively using their phone for it to send these signals. As long as the device is still on, apps working in the background can also create a “ping” that indicates location according to Scott Greene, a digital forensics expert. In terms of finding where a device is, triangulation is “pretty darn reliable,” he says.

When Israeli officials do not provide families with triangulation data from cell phone towers, families have been trying to track down phones themselves, using the find-my-phone features offered by iPhones and Androids. If family members know, or can guess, a loved one’s password, they can use the feature to ask the device to report back its location. “As long as the phone is on and has a signal, then the GPS will be received by the cell phone device,” he adds. “You can say ‘Where's my device?’ And it will tell you.”

But phone pings are not conclusive proof of life. Phones can be separated from their owners, or they can, rarely, provide faulty data. WIRED has spoken to one person, who declined to comment for this article, whose relative’s phone was traced by the authorities to Gaza, only for their body to later be identified inside Israel.

Others have not found the answers they’re looking for. Inbar Haiman, 27, was also at the Supernova music festival when Hamas attacked. She is, her boyfriend Noam Alon says, “a true artist … a magical girl … everything I ever wanted.” Like Polin, Alon has spent the past two weeks trying to piece together what happened to her.

So far, he knows that the last text message she sent was at 7:30 am, warning a friend to find somewhere to hide. Two other festivalgoers, who were with Haiman when they were trying to outrun gunmen chasing them, told him what happened next. “She froze, she was so panicked, she started to cry, and she couldn't run anymore,” Alon recounts. “In that moment, a motorbike with two terrorists came, and they took her.” Friends later sent Alon a video they found on Telegram. From that footage, he could identify Haiman being dragged across the field. There is blood on her face. She appears unconscious. But he recognized her by the distinctive leggings she was wearing that day.

The gap in information is what happened next and where Haiman is now. Alon believes she is in Gaza. But for confirmation, like many others, he turned to her mobile for clues. “We tried to locate her phone,” he says, adding that they used her Android’s Find My Device feature. “Perhaps it is in Gaza. But the last signal was in the area we know she was kidnapped from.”

Where families have struggled to trace their loved ones’ phones, many of Israel’s cyber experts have volunteered to help. NSO Group and Candiru, two surveillance companies blacklisted by the US, have been asked to upgrade their spyware capabilities to help find hostages, according to a report by Bloomberg.

“We were also trying, when we didn't think it's damaging, to assist families to track down phones,” says Omri Segev Moyal, CEO of Israeli cybersecurity firm Profero, adding that this is an activity he and his colleagues do in a personal capacity, not as representatives of the company. He declines to comment on whether they have tracked anyone’s phone to Gaza. Instead, he says, he has helped relatives locate their loved ones’ bodies or find people who were still in hiding. “It's not something that only we are doing,” he says. “I bet everyone with knowledge of mobile devices is trying to help.”

Volunteer cyber experts are not forthcoming about how exactly they are accessing phones’ locations, in case they give details away to the people holding the hostages. Karine Nahon, a professor of information science at Israel’s Reichman University, started a civilian war room of cyber experts to try to locate missing people in the hours after the October 7 attack. The team—which started at 450 people and has now downsized to less than 50 as the number of unsolved cases has shrunk—used a series of algorithms to try to match missing people’s faces, voices, and clothing in the huge amounts of social media content posted to online platforms. “We also use location technologies, but unfortunately I can't speak about it more,” Nahon says.

Families of Israel’s missing aren’t interested in the exact techniques that decipher where their loved ones are or how they are brought home. “I want to see every hostage brought back to their families alive,” says Goldberg-Polin’s father. “That's the goal. The means to get there is something I don't really weigh in on. That’s other people's jobs.”

Polin, at least, has now found further evidence that his son crossed the border. A video, shared with his parents on October 16 by CNN journalist Anderson Cooper, shows Goldberg-Polin being forced at gunpoint into a truck. He is missing his left hand and part of his arm. After speaking to eyewitnesses, Polin believes this was the result of a grenade blast.

“It's every parent's worst nightmare to see a video of their child bloodied, with a limb missing, being put onto a pickup truck of terrorists,” says Polin. But he is encouraged to see that, in the video, Goldberg-Polin is walking on his own. “He looks, given the circumstances, to be somewhat composed. And I'm encouraged that with his weak hand he pulled himself onto the truck. So those things—that composure and that sign of some strength—gave me a sense of strength myself, that he's got fortitude and strength and perseverance. And maybe he can fight his way through this.”

[berf-a-smurf]

I’ve really been trying to avoid posting this but I’m desperately seeking help. I need to make rent, utilities, gas, insurance, and groceries for December.

CA$ 0 / CA$ 1500

(ETA: loan received Nov. 25; no longer desperately seeking financial aid.)

Interested parties, please read below the cut.

[ TLDR:

I’m struggling hard. Please consider browsing my photography for sale (http://mwac.logicality.ca) or sending some spare change my way via the methods listed under “HOW TO HELP” near the end below or on my purchasing page (http://mwac.logicality.ca/purchasing.html). Thank you immensely ���

]

My story

[TW: mention of suicide. Sensitive persons, please skip to “[END TW]” below.]

In July, I left my job as a bottled water (of the 5 gallon type) delivery assistant to attempt taking my life. I sweet talked a cab driver to take me and a nitrogen tank into the middle of nowhere.

For vulnerable people: that is not to give you ideas; instead PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE reach out to someone (my dad has since surprised me with his support; you never know who is really there for you until you ask) or even message me. Genuinely, sincerely, I will do my best to help everyone who messages me 🫶

My nitrogen tank and I sat in the woods for hours while I contemplated my plan. I felt so alone, like my disappearance would really mean nothing to anyone. My struggles and lack of skills (not to mention relentless imposter syndrome) would never let me keep a job. I was so hopeless. I continued on with my plan. I moved onto cleaning up my pictures. If my body and belongings were found, I wanted my family to have the good pictures to remember me by. No dumb screenshots, no nudes, etc. I didn’t get to the part where “my life flashed before my eyes”, but I stepped through it one picture at a time.

My pictures reminded me that I was capable of travelling and that there was so much beyond Canada that I still wanted to see. My pictures reminded me that I am capable of connecting with people and I shouldn’t leave my sister behind. And that I’ll find another partner to love as deeply as my ex. I remembered things I’ve achieved and that I’m capable of some pretty cool things.

I called 9-1-1 and asked for a police officer to pick me up and bring me to the psych ward. (I deemed them the best option as our paramedics are already stretched thin and our firefighters were busy with the province burning.) They ended up sending 3 squad cars - one with a dog to find me in case I did end up offing myself before they got there. They did the standard handcuffing, questioning, searching my person and belongings, and had me agree for them to seize the nitrogen tank.

[END TW]

They brought me to our hospital for more questioning, blood samples, the works. I stayed the night before being transported to the next town’s hospital’s psych ward. I was there for two nights and the whole thing crippled my belief in our mental health care system. But they got me referred to a psych clinic in my town so there’s that.

Even though my psychologist says it’s too soon for me to be working, I’ve had no choice but to seek employment. The water company was open to hiring me back but I haven’t heard from them since. I’ve also not heard from the places I’ve applied at. I received one of two months of EI that I applied for - I reported a day’s worth of work I did for one of my dad’s customers and they cut me off and I keep getting told that the adjudicator will reach out but it’s been months now.

I am continuing my therapy plan and continuing to apply for positions. It’s getting down to the wire now, though, and I may lose everything if I can’t get through December.

For transparency, my breakdown of expenses are as follows:

$815.00 for rent due Dec. 1st (water, sewer, garbage included)

$107.59 for Telus internet due Dec. 1st

$128.77 for car insurance due Dec. 7th

~$40.00 for electricity (I currently have a $30 credit on my account but am projected to use about $70 worth. My apartment is electric heat so the bill climbs as the temperature drops.)

Groceries are about $40/week

And the remainder is for gas for me to go to my in-person therapy appointments, attend work interviews, and visit my parents who live out of town.

TO HELP:

I am selling my photography for CA$5 per image as wallpaper or CA$30 per image as wallpaper with rights to print and post. More info on my purchasing page.

I also warmly accept donations of any size through PayPal.Me or Interac eTransfer.

Personal PayPal (https://www.paypal.me/joshmdm)

Photography PayPal (https://www.paypal.me/MiedemaWithACamera)

eTransfer to miedemawithacamera@gmail.com (I worry that bad actors would maliciously email my personal inbox or use it distastefully so I’m only providing my MWAC one)

I only ask for money you can spare. If your finances are tight, please like and reblog.

Thank you thank you thank you a million times from the bottom of my heart for reading and a million more in advance for any and every penny I’m offered. 🫶

To avoid doing an FAQ, please ask questions in the replies.

I wish you the best possible day!

[ian-galagher]

Hey Willow (: how are you ? Here are a few questions if you feel like answering about our favorite boys 😉

Headcanon challenge:

1. Besides “Mick” and “Mickey”, what’s Ian nickname for Mickey? From all the nicknames Mickey calls him , what’s Ian’s favorite?

2. What’s the story behind Mickey’s knuckle tattoos? (When / how / by who) When Ian gets a tattoo for Mickey, what is it / on what occasion?

3. Random turn-on for Mickey and a random turn-on for Ian? (Bonus: something that really shouldn’t be a turn on but is)

4. What’s their Instagram @ ? When did they start following each other?

5. If they get a pet, is it a dog (who walks it more often?) or a cat (who cuddles with it more often) ? 

HELLO! I'm fighting a cold and I'm being SO brave about it. *sniffs* And some idiot cut the wires of the internet in our street but it's up and running again and I'm so so glad. It's weird being without internet. ANYWAY thank you for sending these! 😁

1. Nicknames! Weirdly, I kinda like the idea of Ian not having nicknames for Mickey. Mickey has more than plenty for him, so maybe that's his thing. Ian brings out 'Mick' only on special occasions, or as a way for Mickey to know that he's serious. He used 'babe' once on the show but it somehow felt out of character, I can't see that being a regular thing.

2. Tattoos! I think Mickey got them done young, maybe at 13, to impress his dad and brothers. Afterwards Terry said he's 'a man now' even though he was literally just a kid. Now they're just a reminder of his old life.

I LOVE the idea of Ian surprising Mickey with an ass tattoo. Mickey doesn't get it. "Why your ass man? You're a top." But Ian justifies it by saying his ass belongs to Mickey now, and no one else. 🥺

3. Turn-ons! Mickey definitely has a uniform kink. Loves seeing Ian in his paramedic outfit, or that heavy gear that they wore for the security gig. He'll say shit like, "step on me with those boots", which puzzles Ian. "Wouldn't that hurt?!" He still wears the uniform, but he's not stepping on anyone. The boots can stay on though.

Ian. Sigh, it's gonna be something with tomatoes isn't it. No, it's coming home to Mickey cooking him dinner wearing an apron and nothing but an apron. Ian will drop everything and go straight for his neck, kissing it up and down which is another one of Mickey's turn-ons. Added bonus, Ian gets to smell Mickey 🥰

Something that REALLY shouldn't be a turn on but is is smoking. Smoking is terrible in so many ways and yet when Mickey lights up, tilting his head back to blow out a stream of smoke, Ian's a goner.

4. Instagram! Heheh I've got a pretty cool idea for a fic I'm writing and I don't wanna spoil it but I also haven't written in weeks 😭 and I don't know how to get back into it anymore. So maybe I'm giving up on that. Mickey's got something soppy like MrMilkovichGalagher while Ian's using IanGalagher because Gallagher was already taken (Mickey just used one L as a reference to his tattoo, or so he says. Ian's not entirely convinced he simply forgot how to spell again)

5. Pets! ONE OF EACH PLEASE 🥺 Mickey gets a badass dog he dotes on. He thinks it'll scare people off but he's never been stopped in the street more often. Everyone wants to pet the cute doggie.

Ian meanwhile gets a cat, a scruffy little thing, which crawls onto his lap in the evenings and is allowed to stay there, no matter how much Mickey protests that his lap is for him only.

My even deeper theory is that Mickey is most like a cat (doesn't wanna be cuddled but secretly does, doesn't do as told, scratchy) and Ian is like a dog (loyal, friendly, enjoys runs, will go through a fire for the right person) which is why they get pets representing the other 🥺

[by-kilian]

Hey there, my love. I saw your update and I feel for you. T-T Life isn’t always exactly good and it’s easy to get overwhelmed at how fast paced everything is. It could also feel like we always run out of time and that we don’t deserve to rest because hell, we’ll get left behind. But that’s just our anxiety lying to us, right? I’m also trying to learn how to rest (because there will always be someone we know or just someone on the internet who’d throw us some lame idea or make us feel that we shouldn’t have some downtime) and would dedicate at least a day in a month of not doing anything at all - meaning just lazying around and not even reading or holding my phone for some hours. It’s kinda hard when we’re so wired to always do something but we owe ourselves some rest, too. You need it and you deserve it. So yeah, sleep longer or eat that cake. You deserved to be pampered by you, more than anyone else.

You are a good person and we love you soooo much for that. You are so talented and smart and I know you’ll get back stronger. Love you, KW! <3

Ahh, I am so sorry for the delayed response but thank you kindly for sending this! This was incredibly reassuring to receive. 🥺 It's definitely hard to remember to rest especially in a society that constantly asks us to be productive. It's an even harder message to remember when you're going through stuff. So thank you for reminding me of the importance of it.

I'm so grateful to have such kind, patient, understanding readers. It's seriously something to cherish. I appreciate your thoughtful message and kind words, I cannot wait to get back to it when my time is freed again. :) Thank you my heart, I love you! :3

[ultima354]

Top Ten Elder Fraud Prevention Methods

We all want to protect our loved ones from danger, but it's impossible to be with them every moment of the day. And unfortunate as it is, scam artists see your aging Mom or Dad as an easy target, knowing full well that elderly individuals are more likely to fall for their scams. Elder fraud often goes unreported, but it's estimated that over $40 billion is stolen from America's seniors every year (according to Fraud.org), and, due to a lack of proper senior citizen fraud protection in place, this figure is increasing. Families and friends are fighting back and providing their loved ones with senior citizen fraud protection tips and tools to combat these elder fraud scam artists.

'If it's too good to be true, then it probably is' rings true in many instances. Law enforcement agencies often remark on just how difficult it is to bring elder fraud perpetrators to justice - once an investigator has begun looking into the scheme, the scammers are already moving on to another ploy. There's just no way to catch them all, which means it's up to you to help your parents understand and implement senior citizen fraud protection tactics and be on the lookout for people who wish to do them, their property, or their savings significant harm.

How can you help your parents fight back against elder fraud? Aside from a quick lesson in senior citizen fraud protection, a handy cheat sheet by all the phones or computers in the home is often the best way to avoid these common elder fraud tricks, which include the following top ten ways to beat the bad guys.

What to Include on Your Senior Citizen Fraud Protection Cheat Sheet

Avoid sending money or providing personal financial information. Be cautious who you disclose your bank account, credit card, and social security numbers to. Suspicious, but realistic looking checks made out for a considerable amount of money should be an elder fraud red flag. Your parents should know that if they weren't expecting a check, it could be a fake. Tell your loved ones if they have concerns related to this type of senior citizen fraud that protection comes from asking someone they trust for help. Checks such as these are usually accompanied with directions instructing the recipient to call a phone number. The message tells the caller to send taxes on the money he or she just received through a wire transfer service. The scam, of course, is that once the recipient sends the money, their check bounces.

Do not speak at length with people who are unfamiliar to you - tell your parents to decline answering questions of a private matter over the phone, Internet, or at the door. Above all, the key to senior citizen fraud protection is caution. If a telemarketer who is pushing a product begins asking for too much information, tell your loved one to request the name of his or her employer, the address, and a phone number. If a caller asks to speak to the man of the house and there isn't one, tell your mother never to indicate that she lives alone.

Do not sign any documents without reviewing them carefully. Your loved one can often be signed up for something he or she may not be interested in and begin receiving phone calls that solicit other products. If anything appears suspect, tell your loved one to contact his or her lawyer or a trusted friend immediately. Many elder fraud con artists will pose as door-to-door salesmen and try to sell your loved one something on the spot, introducing multiple new products and a whirl of paperwork that needs to be signed now and paid for to 'secure' it. This potential elder fraud ploy is dangerous, because the friendly salesman is no longer some distant threat with no face; he appears to be knowledgeable and trustworthy. Tell your parents one of the most important senior citizen fraud protection tools available to them is not to allow anyone into the home they don't know.

Make sure to verify all claims. One of the newest elder fraud alerts is related to home construction or improvement, and much like any other industry, scams abound. The best senior citizen fraud protection tip in this instance is to use a well-known contractor in the area. Tell your parents to request references and contact the Better Business Bureau or the National Fraud Information Center if they're unsure. Create a contract and make sure the work is carried out to the letter; a fly-by-night scheme will probably try to talk down the contract, but if it's in writing, your loved one ultimately has more recourse. And if the contractor wants the money upfront, tell your loved one to move on to the next choice.

Reach out for help before investing or spending considerable amounts of money. Tell your loved one to call you with questions about any investment that involves a significant transfer of money or shares. In many cases, the American Association of Retired Persons can be a lifesaver; this organization regularly sends out information on the latest elder fraud schemes and offers senior citizen fraud protection tips as well as financial planning assistance and consumer rights, all of which can help your parents judiciously decide on various offers and purchases.

Shred all bills, notices, and personal mail before throwing them away. Information regarding your loved one's financial situation is often retrieved by con artists from discarded mail that is not shredded (also known as 'dumpster diving'). It's all too easy for elder fraud scammers to get bank account and credit card numbers from statements as well as details on safe deposit boxes, ATM cards, addresses, phone numbers, social security numbers, and more. Remind your loved one that one of the most important senior citizen fraud protection tips is to tear up all mail before throwing it away. Or, better yet, give him or her the gift of a paper shredder ultima betrug !

Recognize predatory lending practices. This senior financial abuse and elder fraud practice, also known as loan fraud, is often perpetrated by mortgage brokers, appraisers, and home contractors looking for a quick buck. Seniors approach these seemingly knowledgeable individuals looking to refinance their homes, but are bombarded by fast-talking scammers who incorporate a must-act clause into the deal. In the end, your loved one will walk away with a high-cost loan with exorbitant fees totaling more than 5% of the entire amount. When talking with your loved one about predatory lending and senior citizen fraud protection tips, remind him or her that other tricks include pre-payment penalties, 'flipping' (when a loan is refinanced to generate fee income without providing any net tangible benefit to the borrower), mandatory arbitration, and other unnecessary additions. Don't let your parents make this decision alone; help them be more informed consumers.

Avoid health insurance scams by identifying the red flags. Many lower income seniors rely on their Medicare health insurance, which is why many elder fraud scams originate here. Often, less-than-reputable medical equipment companies target seniors, offering free supplies in return for their Medicare numbers. Tell your loved one that the doctor must order and sign for all equipment and products before Medicare will pay for it. Remind your parents of the most important senior citizen fraud protection tips when it comes to health insurance, including never signing blank insurance claim forms, never providing unchecked medical authorization for billing purposes, always reviewing Medicare's payment terms closely, never giving out their Medicare numbers to someone they don't know, and verifying with their physician if they are unsure of a product or equipment that's been ordered.

Bypass the 'Sucker List' altogether. Many seniors are eager to win something and often enter numerous sweepstakes, sign up for free magazines, or register for contests. Companies with elder fraud scam artists will keep records of these submissions, meaning your loved ones could end up on what is called the 'Sucker List,' making your parents that much more of an elder fraud target. This list usually contains not only people who the scammers believe to be a good target, but have already been successfully targeted before.

Just hang up. Scammers know that senior citizens are more polite, more trusting, and a lot less likely to hang up when the call becomes personal; unfortunately, elder fraud con artists take full advantage of this fact. Tell your loved one that if he or she doesn't know the caller and questions regarding financial or personal matters come up, they can simply hang up on the caller with no questions asked. Hanging up is one of the simplest senior citizen fraud protection methods.

[onlineecono]

Arduino 1.8.5 themes

It generates the clock, acts like a serial port, acts like a disk drive, and so on. The little computer project uses a real Z80 chip and uses an ATMega32A for almost all the support functions. In another way, it is very difficult because the tools want to help you so badly. How hard can it be to update the buffer? In one way, it is trivial. It did seem to work with the default 64-byte buffer, but XModem sends more data than that and it would be easy to imagine it getting overrun. But the upshot was that for XModem transfers, felt like the default Arduino serial buffer wasn’t big enough to be reliable. Details are available in a discussion on Hackaday.io, if you really want to follow it. I won’t bore you with the details about getting the board to work since you will only care if you have one. The Issue: Arduino Serial Buffer Size Limit It’s a trick worth knowing as it will come in handy beyond this single problem. What I ended up with is a way to make your own menus in the Arduino IDE to set compiler options based on the target hardware for the project. I wanted better, and that sent me down a Saturday morning rabbit hole. It looked like the best bet was to do Intel hex files and transfer them copy and paste across the terminal. The only problem was there were not many good options for transferring data back and forth to the PC. But I finally found time to finish it and had CP/M booted up. I got the PCB and - you guessed it - it sat some more, partially assembled. The parts sat partially assembled for a while and then a PCB came out for it. I rarely have time to build things I write about, but I really wanted to try this little computer. A while back I’d written about the $4 Z80 computer by. No matter how you craft your personal environment, the minute your code hits the Internet, someone will try to use it in the IDE. But when you produce things for other people to use, you almost can’t ignore it. On the other hand, I was impressed with how extensible it was if you can dig out the details of how it works internally.įirst, you might wonder why I use the IDE. On the one hand, I despise the lackluster editor for hiding too much detail from me and providing little in the way of useful tools. The solution I arrived at might help you do some other things, so even if you don’t need that exact feature, you still might find it useful to see what I did.įollowing this experience I am genuinely torn. I realized just how much heartburn the other day when I wanted to something very simple: increase the receive buffer on an ATmega32 serial port. But the original IDE always gives me heartburn.

Granted, these days you have more options with the pro IDE and Platform IO, for example. It is pretty well-known that I’m not a big fan of the Arduino infrastructure. Locks and security are our bread and butter, so enjoy some physical key appreciation and digital lock love. We are in advanced territory now, but keep this inspiration train going and drop us a tip to share something you make with this miniature deadbolt. You will be compiling your sketch in Arduino’s IDE, but uploading through ST-Link across some wires you will have to solder. There are a couple of tables for the controller pins and header for your convenience.

The Github upload instructions are illustrated, and you know we appreciate documentation. Three, it’s a piece of (minimal) security hardware, but who knows where that can scale. Two, someone saw a tool they wanted to control and made it happen.

One, the Arduino banner covers a lot of programmable hardware, and it is a powerful tool in a hardware hacker’s belt. connected a Rothult unit to the Arduino IDE in response to Ripping up a Rothult. We are continuously inspired by our readers which is why we share what we love, and that inspiration flows both ways.

[yesfinestglasses]

The Ins and Outs of Online Eyewear Shopping

You're stuck indoors, and you've decided to make your first-ever purchase of glasses online. Our six-step approach makes it simple to learn how to buy glasses online, even if you've only ever bought them through an eye doctor or optical store in the past.

One, locate your prescription

To purchase glasses from an online retailer, you will need to have a valid prescription. Your prescription was probably stashed away in a file cabinet or desk drawer. Perhaps you've even scanned it with your mobile device.

You're prepared to buy eyeglasses online with your prescription and pupillary distance (PD) measurement in hand.

Method 2: Decide on a Website to Shop From

You can get the perfect pair of eyeglasses by shopping around at several internet stores like EyeBuyDirect and Frames Direct. Research their reputation on Google and Yelp, look at the prices and variety of frames they provide, and see whether your vision insurance will cover it.

Finding the right eyewear is the next step.

Make a personal checklist before you go too far into your search. the structure of the face: Which best describes your facial shape: heart, diamond, oval, round? Don't know? Look up your face type with our handy chart.

The Most-Loved Frames: Which do you prefer: cat eyes, rimless, or horn-rimmed frames? Do you like conventional black frames or something more daring like bright blue? What sort of eco-friendly, plastic, or wire-rimmed frames would you like? What are the dimensions of your existing glasses' frames?

The Fourth Step: Pick Your Lenses

After selecting your desired eyewear, your prescription and pupillary distance will need to be entered (for some sites, you may do this later in the checkout process). This ensures that the lenses you purchase for kids prescription glasses are appropriate for both near and distant vision.

Fifth, have a look at the refund policy.

If you buy glasses online, there's always a risk you'll have to send them back.

You should always read the small print of a product's warranty and return/exchange policy to be sure you are protected or know how much of a financial penalty to anticipate in the event of an issue.

Sixth, finish up your purchase.

After you've selected the correct frames, input your prescription information, added any lens coatings or upgrades, and double-checked the online store's warranty and return policy, you're ready to finish your purchase.

[blue-matches-my-eyes-you-prick]

Hi. heard it was anon love letter time. good thing because HUZZAH i love u and ur blog (platonically) !! and i love seeing all the content u enjoy on my feed :) okay that’s all, have a good day or night or . afternoon

MWAAAAAAAAH 💋 planting a big ole smack-a-roo right on your forehead nonny! Night time, it's beddie bye for both of us (eventually) so sleep well buddy <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), attempted violence, mutual irritation.

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: I did not plan to get the first part done so soon. I will probably be setting time aside as I write this to also work on some original stuff. When it comes to that, I’d love if y’all might let me know what you think would be a better medium to release it? Kindle, Patreon, etc. I’m really not sure but if it was Patreon it would like be two series running at once with a chapter of each a month + Q&A and maybe some bonus materials? I am a noob at this shit and it wouldn’t be for a while yet.

Anyways, I’m rambling...

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: She simply slammed the door

💀💀💀

The garage smelled like oil and snow. The cold air seeped under the closed metal door as you sat on the low stool and affixed the new headlight to the propped up Harley. It was only the start of an impractical rebuild; your brother wanted everything metal replaced with chrome. You thought it was obnoxious but the parts were paid for and you could never complain for money.

You were funded exclusively by the town’s club, your garage not far from The Asp where the members hung out and revved the engines you found yourself looking at more often than you liked. You were good at what you did though and privileged for it. You had the protection of the club without having to devote yourself truly to its bounds.

You checked the wiring and rolled away from the bike to change the station as the radio crackled. The snow kept setting the speaker to static and the noise was driving you mad. You flipped the switch to play the cassette stuck in the drawer, the old stereo beaten up and filthy. Springsteen’s gristled tones filled the shop and you wheeled back to your brother’s ride.

With the storm would no doubt come more work. Your fingerless gloves itched more than they kept you warm. Your fingertips were numb as you touched the frigid metal and the sweat of your palms made the fabric uncomfortable. You were used to it, rather tolerant as your task kept you distracted.

You were interrupted as you bent to look under the tank and get a good look at the exhaust and the rest of the beast’s entrails. You had the new pieces still wrapped and didn’t intend to do it all at once. Jerome could wait for his tacky redesign.

A loud banging came at the metal door and you glanced over in irritation. Anyone in Birch knew to come in the painted door to the left and not hit the large one. You huffed and stood with a groan, your hips sore from the low stool. 

You fixed the front of your fleece-lined denim jacket and pulled the tail of your plaid shirt from inside your jean pocket. You’d been hunched over so long you were all wrinkled. You went past the large door and into the small entryway off the left of the garage and opened it with a tinkle of the rusty old bell above.

You stuck your head out into the gales as the snow continued to fall and squinted at the man in his thin jacket. He stood beside the long luxury car as another man with wild orange hair remained in the driver’s seat and blew into his hands. They were out of place in the small town and you could tell by the way the man scowled at the door that he knew it.

“Hey,” you called to them, “there’s a place down the street. I don’t do walk-ins.”

“Oh, hello, Miss…” he let his voice trail off as he neared and you stared at him rather than provide your name. His accent, his attire, the curl of his lip, it was clear what he thought of you and the bodunk town, “actually I was referred by an acquaintance. One, James Barnes.”

“Bucky?” you furrowed your brow.

“Mm, yes, that one,” he said, “my car will need detailing. We had some difficulties on the motorway.”

“Right,” you tried not to scowl, “well, if he sent you, I guess I can help.”

You left him and the door clattered behind you. He followed a few steps after as you went to the switch and pushed it to raise the wide door of the garage. You waved in the driver of the car and he carefully pulled in beside your brother’s bike. 

He got out and you were surprised by his size, he was taller even then his companion and wider; neither could be described as short. You lowered the door as the thinner man walked along the shelves and the long table along the other side of the garage. The bigger man stood by the car and tucked his hands in his pockets.

“Not much better in here than out there,” the dark-haired man turned back to you, “you have heat in here?”

“You need a better coat,” you said as you rounded the back of the car, “and some boots.”

You glanced pointedly at his leather shoes and bent to reach under the table. You pulled out the space heater and plugged it in as you set on the wood. You cranked it up and smiled at him tritely.

“So, what’s the damage?” you asked as you looked to the other man.

“Headlight, maybe,” he said in a peculiar accent, “some scratches. We had a bit off a run-in.”

You neared and bent to examine the front of the car. You sighed as you tilted your head and clicked your tongue. It was easy enough to beat out the dents and buff out the scratches with a quick refinish. The headlight would need to be replaced and you knew they didn’t carry anything for that model in town. No one there was pretentious enough to drive it.

“If you want the headlight done before you leave town, it’ll take some time to get the replacement,” you warned.

“Oh, and how do you know I’m leaving?” he taunted coyly.

“Well, I know you’re definitely not sticking around,” you scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I? A quaint place like this, I’m sure there is so much to explore,” he said dryly.

You had no delusions of what Birch was but it wasn’t the part of outsiders to deride the dead end. You stood straight and put your hands on your hips.

“You can go back to your castle, my lord, but you will have to wait out the storm,” you sneered. “Two days for the scratches. If you want to take it back after that and wait for the headlight to arrive, that’s fine with me.”

“Two days for the scratches? Surely you could do it before the morning,” the black-haired man insisted.

“I could but I have other work to do,” you replied, “so you can be patient and take your turn in line after all the hicks who live here.”

You went back to the table and grabbed your phone from where you tossed it earlier. You unlocked it and searched the model of his car and scrolled through the parts list. 

“You’re Bucky’s guest so I’ll send the bill to him?” you asked, “though you do look to be able to afford it yourself.”

“You can invoice him directly,” he assured, “so you’re one of them?”

“One of them?” you repeated as you focused on checking out. The damn internet kept cutting in and out.

“My brother, those men in this town, I never knew a woman--”

“I’m not a biker. My brother is in the club,” you assured him, “so that big blond dope, he’s your brother?”

“Regrettably, yes,” he slithered, “Loki Odinson,” he introduced himself as he rubbed together his hands, the leather gloves doing little to protect his fingers, “my driver is Korg, and you’ve yet to tell me with whom I am trusting my property.”

“Again, there is a shop down the street. Prices aren’t bad,” you finished up your purchase and tucked your phone in your jacket pocket.

He met your eyes as you turned to him and he looked down his nose. You kept on and brushed past him as you went back around the car and sat by your brother’s bike.

“Sorry about the boss,” the other man, Korg, intoned, “he can be a bit--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” Loki snipped, “I needn’t atone to her.”

You rolled your eyes and wheeled around the side of the bike, “if that’s everything, you two can head back out. I’ll let you know when the car’s ready.”

“We might wait for the snow to calm,” Loki suggested.

“I close in an hour, you’re not staying here all night,” you sniffed.

“Trust me, I have no special desire to spend more time with you than necessary,” he retorted, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman so volatile as you, dear, and I’ve only just met you. I never expected you people to have very many manners but perhaps what I did presume was too much.”

You bared your teeth but kept at your work. You would worry about kicking him out when you finished the wiring.

“To be fair, had you not spoken first, I might’ve assumed you were a man,” he added.

You paused and glanced down at the open tool box. You weren’t unused to the comments, you weren’t girly in any way but it wasn’t like you were trying to be a man. You wore what was comfortable and in your work, practicality prevailed over aesthetic. Yet, your years of ridicule as a kid made you less tolerant of the comments and those had stopped long ago because you made sure they did.

“Oh, darling, have I upset you?”

“Don’t call me that,” you said as you reached into the toolbox.

“Well, you’ve not given your name and I’d hate call you what I truly think of you--”

The wrench flew from your hand as you stood and spun to him. It barely missed his head and bounced off the wall and plunked onto the table beside the heater. His eyes rounded and the other man looked at him. There was a thick silence as you glared at him.

“If you weren’t a friend of Bucky’s, I wouldn’t’ve missed,” you hissed, “now I will kindly, before I reach for a bigger wrench, ask you to leave.”

He pushed his shoulders back and tilted his head as his lips thinned dangerously. He swallowed and beckoned the other man with two fingers. His cheek twitched as if he would grin and he nodded subtly.

“Well, darling, how amusing you are. These brutes must adore you,” he snarled, “the exterior does indeed say it all.”

You bent and reached for another tool blindly. He blinked and quickly dodged as you flung the next wrench and he followed his henchman to the entryway. Your temper was a match for many men. It kept you safe.

“Barnes did not say his mechanic was a madwoman,” Loki called back as the bell rang.

“What, are you going to tattle on me?” You stormed towards the doorway, “you precious little princess?”

“Princess?” he met you in the doorway as Korg behind him held the door open and the snow blustered in, “I know Barnes will do me no other favours, but do you think he’ll do you any?”

“Get out,” you spat and shoved him, “I don’t need men to take care of me and I have no problem in proving that.”

He bit the inside of his lip in a crooked smirk and winked before he turned away and strutted out into the snow, shielding his face from the wild winds. Korg trailed behind him and the door sprang back into the frame. You crossed your arms and glared at the peeling paint. 

You were tempted to tow his car out and let it weather the storm but you were smarter than that. If he was doing business with Bucky, you would be a fool to get in the way of it. 

💀

The snow dwindled to a lazy dusting, the ground thick and treacherous. That day, you started early and around noon, you headed across the street to the diner for your usual lunch of a club sandwich and black coffee. You didn’t have to order as all the waitresses knew what to expect. You weren’t unfriendly but your association made many standoffish.

You tapped on the lip of your mug with your thumb, fingers hooked through the handle. The sleepy town felt dead in the winter. You were used to the dullness of Birch but tolerance was hardly happiness. It was home, where you’d grown up and you had no certain desire to get out, but you wouldn’t mind a little more than what was expected.

You yawned and gulped down the last of your coffee. It was bitter and left a few grounds on your tongue. You leaned back and grabbed the monthly newsletter from between the salt and pepper shakers. You read through the fun facts which weren’t very fun or even new. They were copy and pasted out Guinness and Reader’s Digest.

You looked up as you sensed someone approach your table but it wasn’t the waitress. The man from the day before slid coolly onto the seat across from you at the booth and smirked over the table. You raised the newsletter again and folded it backwards to read about the weekly knitting circle down at the rec center that was also the library.

“Good afternoon to you too,” Loki said, “it must be fortune I ran into you, I was hoping to inquire after my car--”

“I told you, two days,” you said tersely as you continued onto your horoscope …‘a new force will bring change’... You hated this tripe. You swore, every month they just switched the blurbs under each sign and hit print.

“So be it,” he cleared his throat and you lowered the paper as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“What are you doing? I eat my lunch alone,” you said.

“Well, to be frank, I was pointed here on the promise of some famous cabbage soup,” he explained as he folded his jacket over the seat next to him, “you looked like you needed company.”

“I don’t,” you assured him.

Kimmie came over and set down your sandwich. She greeted Loki and you saw the way she eyed his tailored suit. He stuck out in the town of flannels and denim.

“Hello, sir, can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

“Tea, English breakfast,” he ordered smoothly.

“Oh, sorry, we only have um, um, sorry, peppermint, earl grey, ginger lemon, and green,” she listed off as she tried to remember them all.

“Earl grey,” he sighed, “and a menu.”

“No, no menu,” you insisted, “and you can take his tea to another table.”

“And when we’re through, I’ll take the cheque,” he ignored you and snickered under his breath.

“Kimmie, can I get a to go box?” you asked as you shimmied off the seat and snatched up your coat, “I have to get back to work.” You took out your wallet and counted out the usual amount plus a tip, “thanks.”

“Of course,” she smiled awkwardly and glanced between you and Loki.

She scooped your sandwich back up and scurried away with it. You felt him watching you as you walked away and went to stand by the till as you watched Nora flit into the kitchen. She packed up your food and returned with the box. You took it and headed for the door, ignoring the arrogant out-of-towner on your way.

“Wait,” Kimmie called out your name and you turned back as she held up your keys, “you dropped these.”

You met her halfway and took them from her with a mutter. Again, he was watching you… or still watching you. She spun and promised she’d have his tea shortly.

“Hmm,” he hummed and you head to the door again, “interesting, I never would have put the name to the face.”

You pushed out into the snow and gritted your teeth. You thought of getting the work on his car out of the way quickly so he would leave you alone but your spite made you want to put it off entirely. Whatever. He’d be gone soon enough.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.23

A Royal Invitation

05/02/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,960

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, language

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this one. It took me forever to get out after several life events that just couldn’t be ignored or put on the back burner. I had a lot of fun in the second half of this chapter and I hope y’all find it as entertaining as I did. Let me know what your favorite parts are! I’d love to know. As always, thanks for reblogging if you happen to do so. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is in celebration for three nights after you come home.

They’re not necessarily celebrating your return although that is part of why they’re happy, but the baby. The baby is already so loved. The baby is the city’s hope and future.

You can feel their exuberance when you and Thor take a walk through the city, flanked by Valkyrie with Loki on your left walking just slightly behind you.

He’s busy but smug and keeps his fingers moving swiftly across the screen of a tablet provided by Tony Stark who’d left the city taking Bruce with him back to the United States on Avengers business.

What Loki is doing, what's got him so glued to his tablet, you don’t find out until the evening of the first day of celebrations.

As your people’s cheers, laughter, and music filter in through the long wall of windows that Thor’s had thrown open to let the joviality in, Loki crosses to the long couch across from the one where you sit with Thor.

Legs thrown across his lap, Thor’s hands gently massaging your calves and feet, you lean back against the cushions that Thor set up against the arm for you.

The sitting room is long, rectangular and faces the East side of the palace. You can’t see the entire city and have more of a mountain view than on the West side where your rooms are and you can see the expanse of the ocean.

Like the rest of the palace, it’s decorated in a mixture of wood and silver steel. The chandeliers above are carefully carved and wired, the lighting kept dim. The seats are also wood but covered with soft cushions for lounging and restful naps.

There’s a slightly simpler look to this sitting room. Relaxed.

Before you’d taken your break from being Queen, you hadn’t spent much time in this part of the palace. Nothing had called to you. The garden had been the only spot you’d sought out but this sitting room is quickly becoming your favorite.

“I like it in here,” you confess, smiling at Thor who’s still squeezing your foot gently.

He smiles and meets your gaze, “Why’s that?”

“Because Jane was never in here,” Loki supplies, swiping left on his tablet then turns it to face both of you. “We’ve got more energy signatures. New ones.”

You and Thor sit up a little straighter.

“What quadrant?”

Loki purses his lips and then turns the tablet back towards himself cutting off your look at a map of the night sky.

“All of them. Whatever it is, it’s jumping around. I think perhaps they know we’re watching.”

Swallowing hard, you scoot closer to Thor, pulling one of your legs down as you twist to face Loki a little better. Thor takes hold of your thigh instead as it rests over his and wraps his other arm around your waist, eager to have you close.

Both of you haven’t stopped touching each other since your return last night.

“What does that mean? If they’re trying to confuse us, then they’re headed for us, right?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one, cherub,” Thor’s reassurance comes softly, his smile confident but soft. “Whatever this is, we’ll be ready for it. Have you sent the data to the others?”

“Sif is coming in for a debrief and we’ll send her to relay the specifics in person. It will need some explanation and Fandral will probably only skim the information if we send it to him via email.”

“We must have all of our troops trained for whatever attack is to come. I’m not going to let someone jeopardize our place here on Earth. We will protect our people but we will show the humans that we will defend them too from any threats to come,” Thor declares, his voice deep and determined, even angry.

He doesn’t like someone threatening his new home. Not after what happened to Asgard. The stress is in his eyes and you lean against him which you’re glad does what you want.

It distracts him.

“I had Stark build you a safe room. He called it a panic room, I think? So, should something happen, you’re to go in there and lock yourself in while we deal with any threat.”

You nod but push yourself back again to rest against the arm of the sofa while stretching out your legs again. It feels good and you sigh heavily as you rub your belly. Sitting scrunched up like that had been annoying.

“I have been training though. Even pregnant. At home, Loki would spar with me and help me with my technique. The short swords aren’t heavy anymore.”

Thor looks at his brother who sits smiling proudly at you before he notices the edge in Thor’s electric blue eye.

“It was all done safely. She and the baby were never in danger. I thought it was foolish to have her out there without her swords and the training to go along with them. Just because she left didn’t mean that she could slack off. Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do that she needs to know. Even carrying your child, it’s important for her to know. One might even say especially because she's carrying the heir."

Loki’s voice grows steadily more subdued. Sad. Like a bad memory is playing itself over in his mind.

“I was too late, Loki,” Thor interjects, drawing your gaze to him too. He also looks sad. “And if you hadn’t been in that cell you’d have been long gone. Neither of us could have saved her. And you’re right. I know how important it is.”

Thor looks at you and takes your feet back in his hands, “I’m glad you trained. Once our child is born you’ll have to show me those skills of yours.”

Despite the playful nature of his taunt, you can see that he and Loki are both still in the depths of their grief. They must be thinking of their mother.

"So, these energy signatures, you still have no idea who could be causing them?"

The question is pointless. You know they don't know but it's something to say when all you can do is worry silently.

“I have theories,” Loki admits, exchanging a careful look with Thor. “But nothing concrete. Nothing that would put you at ease.”

“I don’t need to be put at ease, Loki. I need to know if there’s something to worry about. This doesn’t just affect our family but our people. If we need to warn them, we can’t be hesitant. Earth deserves a heads up, too.”

This is your job right? The voice of both your new Asgardian family and the people of Earth? This is why you were required to marry Thor.

Thor’s hand increases in strength around your foot as he tries to calm you.

“You’re right, cherub. Loki only means that there is no evidence to prove his theories so until we can find something to link these strange power surges to what he thinks it might be, then we should play this safe and hold off on raising any alarms. Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“Mm,” Loki agrees, nodding.

You frown, pulling your leg off of Thor’s lap to sit down properly and face both brothers. They sit up a little straighter in response to your own rigid back, your hands on your lap.

This isn’t right, whatever they might think.

“No,” you shake your head and watch as Loki puts his tablet down.

Thor scoots forward, reaching over to take your hand. You let him because he’s not trying to comfort you anymore. Instead, this reach is one of support and when you look at his singular eye, the patch on his empty socket gleaming softly in the dim light of the room, you can see he’s intent on listening and understanding.

If Jane has made any positive impact on you and Thor, it’s this. He’s really listening to you.

“Thor, you and the Asgardians are a unique people. You’ve all had it hard and I’m not trying to say that your struggles haven’t been difficult, but by nature, just by the very way that you all are made and born, you are stronger. It’s in your body’s makeup.

“For someone like me, if I were to jump from that open window, I would die. If you or any of the other Asgardians jumped from that window, you’d probably ache for a while, maybe a few would even get a few broken bones or cuts but they’d be superficial wounds.

“You know from experience how fragile humans are. Both of you,” the look you give Loki pulls his gaze down to his feet. “We’re unprepared for anything other than each other. We need more of a warning than you. We need time to prepare.”

It all falls into place in your head and with confidence you turn to look at Thor, turning your hand over to take his in your own hand.

With a quick squeeze, you scoot just a little closer to him, “Thor, I need to speak to the ambassadors. We need to schedule an official meeting to give them the rundown on what we’ve been doing here and what we’re keeping an eye on. Because, knowing Tony, I’m sure he hasn’t said anything to anyone outside of the compound?”

Loki sits back, crossing his legs as he shuts his tablet off, “No. Stark is as preoccupied about raising the alarm as we are. But now that you mention it, I suppose both we and he are not looking at this from a regular civilian of Earth’s point of view.”

“Y/N,” Thor calls your attention back to him, “This could backfire. We could be doing more harm than good by sharing with them the information we’ve gathered.”

You shake your head, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m jumping the gun here. The last thing I want to do is cause a panic. But I don't think that’ll happen. It’s not like we’re going to leak it onto the internet. We’re going to meet with the ambassadors and provide this information to world leaders so that they can prepare the way they see fit. Trust me, these prime ministers and presidents and kings aren’t going to just announce to their people that some alien threat is on the way. They don’t want to look out of control or unprepared.

“We need to give Earth’s humans a chance to defend themselves. Even if they end up needing our help, they deserve to know.”

Loki and Thor are silent for what feels to you like a long time. In reality, you know it must only be seconds. However, this is the first time you’ve pushed back with them. This is the first time you’re speaking on behalf of the human race.

It makes you nervous and anxious. Will they let you be Queen in this sense? Or is it all just show?

They look at each other, staring and communicating silently before Loki gets to his feet and turns his tablet back on.

“Well, if I’m to set up a meeting with the ambassadors, NATO, and the UN I should probably get started.”

Your heart explodes with pride. They’re letting you really rule! You’re making a difference. True change. Your excitement mingles with a sudden terror as you realize that your choices are going to affect what will be millions if not billions of people.

Luckily, Loki’s words also serve to distract you from your trepidation.

“Wait, Loki,” you hurry to your feet and scurry to his side before ripping the tablet from his hands and hiding it behind your back.

“Hey,” he protests, reaching around you to try and grab it.

You hurry back to Thor and instead of sitting beside him you plop yourself onto his lap and sit as close as you can to trap the tablet between your bodies.

You can hear Thor’s heart begin to pound. Aside from those kisses yesterday, this is the closest you’ve put yourself to him since you got back. He’d slept with you in your shared bedroom, but he’d laid facing you and you him, a good six inches between your bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, placing his hands along the swell of your tummy. You can almost feel him glowing with happiness.

“As eager as I am to give Earth a heads up, I also think you need a break. The energy isn’t going anywhere and the Warriors Three and Sif are on the watch. Please do me a big favor and just take a day or two? You’ve been at it like crazy since I left the palace and it would make me so happy if my baby’s Uncle Loki would take a breather. He’s gotta be strong and in tip-top shape if he’s going to keep up with his future nephew.”

“Or niece,” Thor interjects. “She’s right, Loki. Rest. We’ll get back on this in two days and you can set everything up then. The city is roaring with celebration. Go out and enjoy it. You always loved a good party.”

Loki glares at the pair of you, “Using the future prince or princess is blackmail. And if I’m out there, what will you two do?”

Thor smiles at him, reaching between your bodies to grab the tablet from where it’s hidden. He sets it aside and his other hand trails over your side before wrapping around your waist to cup your bump again.

“I’m sure my queen and I will find something to keep us occupied. Making up for lost time, perhaps?”

Your neck burns but you grin up at Loki who fixes you with a knowing smile, “Of course. How silly of me. Well, let me not keep you from reacquainting yourselves with each other. If you have need of me, I will be around. Just call.”

“Have fun, Loki,” you call after him.

As he shuts the door, Thor tilts your head to the side, pulling you back against his chest fully so that he can kiss you without prompting.

“Sleeping beside you once more was dreamlike, cherub,” Thor tells you, low and full of want.

“And what would make it more real for you?”

“Shall I show you?”

And he waits, like the jerk that he is. He literally just dangles the carrot in front of you. His hard body pressed against your back, the heat of his legs seeping through your clothes to your skin.

His hands trace tantalizing circles around your stomach but make the slightest tickles to the fold of your pelvis. You hate him!

“Oh my god, hurry up, dummy.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. In an instant you’re in his arms as he settles you on the sofa, his hands already yanking and pulling at your clothes but when your tummy is exposed, he drops to his knees and worships your pregnant body with gentility and softness.

At least until you growl and yank him up to finish what he’s started.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sheets against your skin feel soft as silk. They’re slightly sticky but that’s more to do with your own body’s sweat.

“Why are you up?” Thor’s voice is heavy with sleep.

It’s thick and rough. It makes you smile and your ears burn because he sounds delicious and you missed mornings like this.

“I’m hungry,” you admit.

Thor tumbles from the bed, dragging with him the heavier faux fur blanket that sits at the foot of your bed for decoration usually. He wraps it around his waist and pulls the cord by the door.

“I already called them, puppy,” you assure him, and he smiles sleepily at you before moving towards you.

“I missed my term of endearment. Why a dog?”

As he reaches you, you open your sheet and his eyes roam the length of your naked body before he gets all handsy and dives into the sheet with you, eventually settling his hands on your bum. No groping, just resting. Then slowly he trails his fingers up along the sides of your back up to your shoulders and back down.

It leaves your skin full of goosebumps and you shiver. He misinterprets it and instead of stopping his stroking, he uses his flat hand to create friction instead.

“It’s not a dog, it’s a puppy. They’re cute and they’re kinda, I don’t know, like...clueless?” You laugh because that’s not the word you were looking for but it’s what comes out.

“Uh, excuse me, I have plenty of clues,” Thor argues, but he doesn’t seem offended.

“That’s not the right word,” you laugh again. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just want to squeeze you and cuddle you because you’re like this big blonde golden retriever only sexier.”

Thor makes his thinking face as he tries to pull up the picture of the dog breed you just compared him to, and he nods slowly.

“I think I can live with that,” Thor smiles down at you then leans to meet your lips.

You kiss him eagerly, your bodies both humming with anticipation even though you spent the last two days--practically--in bed.

Both of you know that there’s a time when this lust might not necessarily fade but dull a bit? Then again, it is Thor and he’s ravenous for you almost all the time.

You chuckle against his lips and he pulls back to look at you.

“What has you laughing so adorably?”

You let go of the sheet and before it can fall, Thor replaces your hands with his own to hold it up around you both. With free hands you’re able to trace the length of his arms, tracing the large curves. His skin is so damn soft.

You’re still not sure if that’s a Thor thing or an Asgardian God thing? What you know is that you love it and your fingers eat it up every time you touch him.

Whatever laugh or trace of humor you had falls away as you start to really look within yourself and examine why you’re so happy.

You shove your arms underneath his and wrap your arms around him, small whisper slaps of his skin as your hands are splayed out along his wide back. You press your ear against his chest. The thud of his heart is strong and slightly speedy, probably in response to your sudden shift in mood.

The swell between both of you, the little life kicking in response to your mood pulls both your attention for a few seconds before you find your voice.

“I missed you, Thor. More than I thought I would. Way more than I ever knew I could.”

The somber tone of your voice has him giving you a nice gentle squeeze. He likes having you right there right up against him just as much as you like being there.

“Well, you were very angry with me,” Thor reminds you. “I didn’t know your face could make those expressions. That day at your home?”

You hug him tighter, staring out at the small bloom of sunrise in the distance. It’s very slightly starting to glisten on the still ocean line.

“I was angry. But it was more than that.”

“I know,” Thor kisses the top of your head. “I hurt you. What I said, I-I didn’t mean it, cherub. I promise you. It was a temporary insanity. The moment you came into that room after I said what I did, I knew that I could never go through with it. And if you’d told me that we were expecting a child-”

“I couldn’t,” you sigh, leaning back to look up at him. “In my head, if I told you then after what you'd said that I was pregnant and you chose to stay with me, I would live the rest of my life wondering whether you chose me because you really loved me or because I was finally going to give New Asgard their heir.”

Thor’s face crumbles a little, brow scrunched, mouth pulled down at the corners as he shakes his head.

“I will always choose you. Not because you are the mother of my children, but because you are the love of my life. The one I did not expect. The one that I can never chance to lose again. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt me.”

Staring into his eye, the intensity of his gaze, you know that he means what he says. He loves you.

Even though you can’t admit it to him because your reconciliation needs all of the positivity that you can both muster, in your heart, you can’t help but wonder if you can truly trust him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The days go by like routine after the Asgardians find that they have to go back to their jobs and lives.

As much as they all love a good party, Thor and Loki included if the last two days are any indication, they know they can't keep going and must get back to life as usual.

Thor at first makes an attempt to stay with you. The last few months of being without each other makes it difficult to be apart and for Thor especially, with the baby.

He hates leaving you. He wants to be there for every kick and every shift.

His largest grievance is that he can't listen to your laugh when the baby kicks and it feels weird. This you only find out because Loki, in his annoyance with the constant trips Thor makes him do to check on you when he's in his meetings.

Although you believe Loki, you take all of these little indicators of Thor’s love with ease but with the knowledge that it might very well be fleeting.

You try not to think about it and instead just allow yourself to enjoy the fact that Thor does indeed love you and you love him too. Even if it may not be forever. Even if it can change. Even if the future is now a little less certain.

Your meeting with the ambassadors approaches quickly. It takes a month to set it up. Longer than you'd thought and it doesn't take long to understand why.

"This is the third time they've pushed the meeting back," you gripe, moving over to Loki’s computer to look over his shoulder at the surprisingly very short email.

Please inform Her Majesty, the Queen of Asgard, that we are unable to meet with her as previously scheduled this week and will be in contact as to the next available day.

Should any true trouble arise, please tell Thor that we are more than happy to meet with him.

Sincerely,

Earth AMB Mark Coates

You're seething. You've never been this angry. Never this absolutely heated. Not even with Thor and what happened with Jane can compare to the absolute rage flowing through your veins.

"They don't seem to take you seriously," Loki realizes. "Because you're a woman?"

"Partially, probably," you growl as you move back around his desk to sit in the padded armchair by the window where you'd been watching Thor visit with the Valkyrie.

He's not there anymore though and you can see Hilde and her girls relaxing a little. Adjusting their armor, laughing, sitting and talking. Now that their inspection is over they can breathe.

Why they get so nervous you don't understand. Thor’s such a fanboy. He gushes about them constantly.

"What other reason might there be?" Loki asks, rising and moving around his desk to lean against it casually, hands shoved into the inky black pockets of his slacks.

His jade vest is unbuttoned and the sleeves of his dark gray button-up folded up to his elbow.

Summer is almost here and it's getting hotter.

You don't answer right away. Hands slowly stroking your belly, trying to calm down for the baby's sake. Feeling that upset can't be good for him.

You take a long deep inhale and with a heavy sigh release the stress.

"My Queen?" Loki urges, and you smile.

Realizing he's calling you by your title to reaffirm your place among them to make you feel better, you turn your smile on him.

"You've always been my biggest supporter. You and David," your smile falters. "I miss him."

"Is he still in Baghdad?"

"Yeah. He’s in deep so, no contact. I hope he's okay."

"You know, you do have a part time Avenger as a husband and the best magician for a brother-in-law. One word and we'd be happy to assist with your lawyer's extraction."

"Which is why I don't ask. If he needs help, David will let us know. He has his panic button."

The gift had been given to you by Tony who had made it for you to press when you and Thor had been estranged. An easy way to call for Thor if something should happen.

Your brother-in-law nods.

"I suppose it would be a little like nepotism. Fine. What should I do about the misogynistic email?" Loki wonders.

"He's not exactly a misogynist. Not completely anyway. The ambassador blowing me off has more to do with me specifically than it does with me being a woman."

This seems to set Loki off more than if the ambassador was doing this because you're a woman.

"What right does he have to snub the Queen of Asgard? Doesn't he know what that might do to relations between Earth and our people?"

You shake your head, smiling because his anger makes you feel better.

"No, he doesn't. Because to the world my marriage to Thor is show. It's a necessary political move. They don't care whether Thor and I love each other and Jane and Thor’s relationship was so publicized that it’s hard for them to accept that Thor might actually love me.

"Thor went to extreme lengths to protect Jane in the past. Public displays of affection like that aren't forgotten easily.

"To the ambassadors and probably most of the world, offending me doesn't mean an offense against Thor. To them, I'm a queen in name only. No real power here."

Loki huffs through his nose, standing straight with his hands at his waist before he turns to walk back behind his desk.

He stops for a moment, thinking hard you guess, then whips around and stomps towards you before shoving his finger towards the windows.

"I know it has been a while for me, but I can very easily open another tear in space over New York. Or wherever you need me to. I might need a bit of time to locate the power and forces to do it but I will show the people.of Earth what happens when they underestimate the love of the Asgardian people for their queen."

Leaning back in your chair, you keep your arms around your bump as you watch Loki make his threat.

"That's a bit much for a dude who just thinks that my political marriage is just that, isn't it?"

You keep your face clear of amusement, because it really is very sweet of him to be so upset for you. But you can't help the small smile that stretches your lips.

He deflates, moving to other armchair across from yours and sits but leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"It's shameless disrespect, Y/N. We cannot let them get away with it. You are Asgardian now. A slight against you is a slight against this Kingdom."

"I know, Loki. But-"

Behind Loki his office door opens. It faintly creeks and through it pokes Thor’s searching gaze.

He looks confused as he scans the room until he spots the two of you and with a little skip in his step and a wide unfettered smile, he shuts the door and moves towards you.

"Hi," you smile at him widely in reaction to the loveable look on his face.

"Hello," Thor replies, his voice low and quiet as he leans down towards you.

"You finished early today," you observe, voice just as quiet.

"You know I hate being apart," Thor whispers and presses his lips to yours.

His kiss is so soft and slow.

He pulls away too quickly and as your heart stutters, you reach up to hook your hands into the sides of his chest plate and pull him back down for another kiss.

He'd worn his full uniform today for an early meeting and the inspection of the Valkyrie. He looks so good but with his hair growing in, now just past his shoulders.

He still has the two small braids you'd worked in on the left side of his head and he looks so good, you might jump him later. If you don't pass out for an afternoon nap.

He pulls away again, this time smiling brightly.

"Will I always get this welcome if I come home early? I might have to shorten my days."

You chuckle as he moves around you and stops by a side table where Loki keeps a few weapons on display on a stand. He starts to remove his harder pieces of armor and places them aside.

"What has you looking so stern, brother?" Thor asks, keeping his back to you both as he moves onto the leather pieces that keep his chain mail from shifting.

Loki sits back, sighing heavily as he considers how much to tell Thor.

"Something I should worry about? Come. Tell me and lessen your burden."

"He's upset for me. That's all."

You hear the clink of Thor's mail as it falls on the table then he's moving around your right to squat by your chair so that he's below your eye level.

"Upset for you? Why?" His look of concern is upsetting and pleasing at the same time.

You purse your lips and look at Loki.

"It might be easier if I showed you," he says then rises and moves to his desk to get his tablet.

Thor reaches out to place his hand on your belly and you place yours over his.

He smiles at you then leans down to kiss your tummy while you run your fingers through his hair and try to ignore the utterly breathtaking and heartaching butterflies that his sweet love on your baby gives you.

"I missed you," he whispers to you.

Again, your heart stutters. He’s so easy with his words. These declarations feel so good but that little voice in the back of your head also makes your heart ache.

You just smile at him. Unable to speak when you feel like you're glowing and grieving at the same time.

"Here," Loki holds out the tablet and Thor stands then takes it.

He moves to the loveseat across from your and Loki's armchairs and plops down before reading.

You watch him, admiring the out of armor look. His black leather pants are just as hugging as they always are. His top, a dark gray long sleeve made with breathable fabric leaves no room to wonder just how defined his muscles are.

He's Asgardian perfection.

He breathes in deeply then exhales loudly, a passing shadow of rage overcoming his Godly features before he tosses the tablet at Loki lightly who catches it easily.

Thor spreads his legs a little, tapping his heels as he throws his left arm along the back of the small sofa, his other hand resting on his thigh.

"Write the bastard and tell him I'm requesting the meeting then. Then my cherub and I will both be waiting to give him both the information he needs to warn Earth and a piece of my mind."

You look down at your feet, heart pounding and stomach tumbling with nerves.

You don't want to be the reason any rifts come between New Asgard and Earth. The whole purpose of the position you hold is to protect the citizens of this city.

"Thor," you warn, turning to meet his gaze only when you know you can handle it.

"He wants me to contact him, so I will. In fact, send a raven instead. Do the works. Scroll. Seal. And when they arrive, give them a royal welcome with trumpets and a guard."

"Thor…"

"They will not disrespect you and find warm welcomes in my home. You are my wife. My Queen! Even if all they assume is between us is political agreement, they should respect the title you hold. We may not be above them, but we do outrank them an they need to know that you are not to be messed with.

"The fact that I love you only makes my resolve stronger."

"Okay. I get it, puppy. And I'm grateful to both you and Loki for standing up for me. With your tempers, no one would believe you aren't blood related. Sheesh."

You gran hold of the arms of your chair and groan only a little as you push yourself up onto your feet.

"Oof," you reach back and place your hand on your waist.

Thor’s arm immediately extends out towards you. Beckoning you to his side.

It takes you a moment but you get your footing back and move for him. As soon as you're within reach his arm is around you, helping you sit down carefully.

He doesn't let you sit back all the way. He pushes you to your left so that you'll shift and sit angled while he sits up straighter and turns to face you.

With gentle but firm hands he starts to work out the kinks and knots in your back.

Unintentionally you moan with relief. Thor’s eyes are on Loki though.

"What was your idea?"

"I offered to open another tear in space above whatever city she deemed proper. With the allowance of time to find both the power to do so and the army to lead through it."

You can't see Thor expression but when he speaks, his disapproving sounds fake.

"I'm not sure even idly that threat is in good taste. But I understand the sentiment."

"Do you really want me to make all of that fuss to make the ambassador come and meet with you?"

"Yes. I think he needs to be humbled. He may be in a position of power and my Y/N may owe her marriage to their insistence and meddling, but she is Queen and they are speakers for Earth. They would not have jobs had we not come to live here. Their disrespect of our Queen is a slight on our people.

"The moment I took Y/N under my banner is the moment she became Asgardian from the tips of her cute toes to the top of her irresistible head. And with our child on the way, they should know better."

Loki gets to his feet and moves towards the door, "Very well. One royal invitation coming right up."

As he leaves, Thor’s focus is diverted completely to you.

"Does that feel good, love?"

You only moan in return.

Thor chuckles and keeps going for a few minutes longer before you push back towards him and he lets you rest your back against his chest.

You can't be scrunched forward too long before your stomach begins to feel squished.

You look straight up at his face and he smiles.

"Hi," you tell him.

"Hello."

You smile.

"Was the massage satisfactory?"

"Mmmm, it was great. Your hands are godly, puppy."

Thor chuckles at the pun but leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

"And you, my sweet cherub, are a Goddess. And I will make sure you are treated as such."

[sourholland]

surprise me w anything dad!harry or maybe even boxer!harry (my favorite tropes LOL) also keep up the great writing! <3333

It’s a... || Harry Styles

a/n: hope u like! just a little dad!harry fluff :)

“I’m tellin’ you, s’going to be a girl!”

“Harry, you thought Lucie was going to be a boy. I’m not sure I really trust your judgment.”

Laying down on the bed of the obstetrician’s office, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes at Harry. The stupid little smirk playing on his lips only made you want to slap and kiss him at the same time.

Having just hit nineteen weeks, your OB called and let you know you could find out the sex of the baby at this appointment. With Lucie, you and Harry did a little family gathering where Gemma was the first to find out and got a cake with pink or blue frosting. It was sweet, Anne loved it and so did your mom.

Harry had recorded you cutting into the first piece, holding up the pink inside and smiling with teary eyes. He posted it on his Instagram story, doubling as a pregnancy announcement. It was almost as if he’d broken the internet. All of your fans went wild, spamming every comment section they could find with congratulations and pink hearts.

For baby number two, both you and Harry decided to go the more intimate route. Instead of having the doctor write down the gender on a little piece of paper and fold it up, you’d find out at the office. Later on, you both planned to tell your families. Anne was babysitting for the ultrasound, so you’d tell her once you went to pick Lucie up.

“Five girls in the house, how will I manage?” Harry teased. He meant you, Lucie, the new baby, and your puppies Josie and Luma.

“I’m saying it’s going to be a boy,” you smirked at him. “I have a gut feeling—mother’s intuition or something.”

“Yeah? Well I’ve got father’s intuition or somethin’.”

Looking down, you stared at the small baby bump. The reason you thought it was a boy was because ever since you were small, your grandmother told you if you carried low, it was a boy. With Lucie, you carried higher even at nineteen weeks along. Now, you felt more bloated than pregnant and didn’t get as sick in the mornings.

At night, you were sending Harry off to pick you up things like pretzels and peanut butter, McDonalds fries and sprite, and his least favorite—orange juice with no pulp and quesadillas dipped in hot sauce. The cravings were much saltier and spicer than with Lucie, then you’d always want things like pastries and biscuits.

The door to the private room opened, the ultrasound tech coming in with baby pink scrubs and a fresh pair of white gloves. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun, a medical mask secured around her face. Though, she radiated such joy that the crinkles beside her eyes told you she was smiling.

“How are we today? It’s so good to see you again, Y/N! How have you been feeling? Any nausea or vomiting?”

“A little nausea, but nothing too bad,” you responded. “Excited to find out about this one.”

She smiled at you, motioning for you to pull up the oversized sweater you’d stolen out of Harry’s closet and push it up towards the wire of your bra. Once you did that, you unbuttoned the baggy jeans and pushed them down a bit so the band of your underwear was just showing.

“Alrighty, so you know the drill. I’m going to squeeze some of this gel onto your belly and take some photos. Did you want to find out the sex today?” She asked, pulling out the packet of blue gel and warming it.

“Yeah, we want to know,” you laughed. “Harry thinks it’s a girl, I’m saying boy, though.”

“Harry was saying the same thing way back when,” she chuckled, applying the product to your stomach.

“That was one time, I know what I’m sayin’ this time ‘round!”

She picked up the wand, turning the screen over for both of you to see it. Placing the instrument on your skin, she began to move it around a bit. The pressure wasn’t bad, just enough to press on your bladder and make you regret that large soda from In-N-Out.

The steady thumping of the heartbeat came through her computer, the grainy picture of what was now looking like an actual baby. The little thumb seemed to be curled up next to the mouth, picture moving from angle to angle as she measured.

Harry turned away a second, wiping under his eyes a moment and letting a sniffle or two escape. If one thing was true, he was the biggest sap during appointments like these. Sometimes it all became too much for him, the overwhelming love he got from Lucie and now this new little baby.

“Are you guys ready to find out?” She questioned, smiling back as she kept moving the wand around. “I’ve seen a few times.”

Grabbing onto Harry’s hand, letting him place a simple yet very loving kiss to your palm. You looked back to the screen and then over to her and nodded, nearly dying at the anticipation of what would come next. It didn’t matter to you, girl or boy. A healthy and happy baby would be a blessing in itself. In the end, Harry didn’t mind either, he only wanted the same as you.

“Congratulations, you’re having a boy!” She told you, grinning ear to ear.

Leaning over, Harry pressed a short kiss to your lips and then your cheeks. He was smiling very wide, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. You couldn’t help pulling him back for another kiss, while also feeling like you knew from the beginning.

“So much for father’s intuition, huh?”

[shy-himb0]

I spent 4 of the best months of my life living in a city called Puerto Iguazú. I can feel the heat and sweat of the evenings right now. The Door to the Big Water. I suppose that could be one of the translations of the city’s name. Iguazú is a Guaraní word. There are those who still speak it as their only language. They are not many. They are a beautiful, worn people. They look like they sprang from the the fertile ground they live on. I miss their warmth. I miss how they mumbled when they were drunk. I miss how openly they loved and accepted me. 

This was pre-internet. Handwritten letters back and forth: my only form of communication with home. It took about 12 days for my letters to get home and another 12 to receive their response. Mom would often send little newspaper clippings that kept me up-to-date on my favorite sports teams, along with other interesting news from the states. One in particular came with concern and warning. A young man, very similar to me, in a city very near me, had recently been killed during one of the big rainstorms that so often grew out of the horizon to dominate the entire sky. That is the biggest sky I’ve ever seen. Those clouds were intimidating as hell. Gorgeous too. So dark and blue and grey and purple and black and swirling and roiling. Fast too. I remember so many times watching the wall of clouds bringing their rain directly toward me. I’d watch the red dirt go from dry to wet in an advancing line. Such a warm rain. A joyous rain. Cleansing. Have you walked in the warm rain? It does this thing to the skin. Warm rain brings the skin to life. Tears from the moon that bring a feeling of luminescence. I’d feel fuzzy and glowy. I walked in the rain for hours on end down there.

Anyway, so this kid was riding his bike during a rainstorm. Puddles would collect everywhere on those muddy roads. He was riding through a big puddle when the force of a sudden gust of wind knocked a power-line loose. The black wire, alive, reeled around, bouncing and thrashing, a cobra with plenty of venom in its electric bite. It happened to land in a puddle at the same time he was riding through it. The details were sketchy. He wasn’t alive to recount it, and no one saw it directly. He was with a friend who was riding up ahead of him. What a horrendous moment. Your friend is in a puddle with a live wire. You are watching him full of too much energy and no ability to conduct it safely. You cannot do anything to save him. Jumping in to grab him would mean your death as well. You can only watch.

I’ve never actually watched a person die. I feel like I’m much too old to be able to say that. I’ve seen dead bodies. I’ve seen those who are near death - hours away. I’ve never been there to watch the process. Is it like watching the rainstorm advance? Is it noticeable, the moment of death? Or does it pass without perception? Would you know if the machine weren’t telling you the heart had stopped? It worries me that I’ve never been with someone in that moment. It makes me afraid. Afraid to die alone. I suppose though, I’d be a bit nervous to die in company. I think I would hold on just to placate them. Keep up the good show. Maybe I’ll be embarrassed to let go while they still cling to life. Death is offensive to the living.