#truly the dumbest man no notes on his choice to let the world know what the bay area was already aware of

[knowlesian]

“what if i made this website even worse and way less functional, would people give me money then” was a super hilarious question elon asked himself, for the first time well done buddy no notes

[alirhi]

chapter 17!

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 17/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: nada. Well... Ali attempting comedy. I suppose that requires its own special warning lmao Notes: Loki's just so done lol

"I hate this plan, Thor."

"Yes, I heard you the first dozen times."

"This is the dumbest idea you could possibly have come up with!"

"We could always try Get Help."

"And use it on whom, pray tell?!"

"Thanos."

"Don't be an idiot." Privately, Loki thought he might as well be asking the Earth to cease its tireless spin, but he had to try.

Thor only smirked at him, the bastard. "Just keeping things in perspective. There's always room for a worse plan."

"...Thank you."

"What's Get Help?" Bucky didn't even glance up from the little device in his hand. Ever mindful of the terrain and unwilling to see him mess up his pretty face by falling on it, Loki was constantly moving things out of his distracted lover's path just before he tripped.

"Nothing, darling. Has Darcy sent you another?"

He grinned, holding the thing – Darcy swore it was a telephone when she gave it to him, though he'd yet to see it used for a single call – out for Loki to see. "She sent a video!"

Eira was on the screen, splashing about in a tub that appeared to contain more bubbles than water. She was having the time of her life, and both of her enamored parents couldn't help smiling like fools.

"I hate being away from her."

Loki winced, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I know. Believe me, love, I know. But she isn't safe around these people. Better to leave her in Darcy's care until we can be sure she isn't in any danger."

"I still can't quite believe I'm a dad!" At the pure joy and wonder in his voice and on his beautiful face, his ancient lover smiled again. He still had a long way to go before he was truly recovered from what HYDRA had done to him, but it couldn't be denied that when he was happy, Bucky was the cutest damned thing.

"I still think you're overreacting," Thor grumbled as they stepped off the elevator at last. "These are good people. They'd never harm a little girl."

"Uh... Loki's not in chains. Why is Loki here and not in chains? Security!"

The God in question rolled his eyes. "Lovely to see you again, too, Stark."

Tony looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh, vomit, or jump into one of his suits of armor. "What the hell is this, Point Break? You promised this psycho would be in a cell for the rest of eternity. And who's the weirdo staring at his phone?"

"...Bucky?!"

Thor stopped before he'd even truly begun to offer the explanation he didn't really have, mouth hanging open and one finger in the air. Confused, he and Loki watched silently as Steve Rogers practically flew across the room and Bucky slowly lifted his head, finally taking in his surroundings for the first time since they'd left New Mexico.

"Steve?" He grinned and pocketed the phone immediately to throw his arms around his friend. "Steve! Holy shit, it is you!"

"Who is Bucky?" Thor mumbled to Loki, getting an exasperated eye roll for his troubles.

He knew, of course; when they'd first met, the handsome young soldier had introduced himself as Bucky. Loki had simply refused to call him that. Still, prior knowledge or no, he couldn't resist having just a bit of fun with his brother, so he decided, in lieu of a proper explanation, to treat it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, just to hammer home how incredibly stupid Thor truly was. "I would imagine, given the context playing out before your clearly useless eyes, that it's a pet name for James. Derived from his middle name – Buchanan – if I had to guess. Honestly, Thor, how do you function?"

"Can someone please address the unfettered genocidal psychopath standing in my living room?"

Bucky flinched, moving back from Steve and giving Tony a slightly helpless look. "That was... I was under HYDRA's thumb, I was never a Nazi..."

"Not you, darling," Loki assured him stepping between the two newly thawed WWII veterans, and more importantly, between Bucky and the confused, wary Avengers. "He's referring to me."

"Wait, what?" Steve peered around him, trying unsuccessfully to catch his childhood friend's downcast gaze. "That's where you've been all this time? With HYDRA?"

"I didn't have a choice," he mumbled, face going red as he seemed to sink into himself.

"Quite literally," was Loki's frosty interjection. He pushed the soldier back when he got too close to his Sergeant and snapped, "If anyone wishes to interrogate or criticize him, I will happily transform you into something that cannot speak nor breathe."

"Just turn yourself into an elephant," Tony snapped. "Because you are the elephant in the room right now! Thor, explain to me why your insane adopted brother and his pet Nazi are in my home!"

"I was never a Nazi!"

"I've known Bucky all my life, Stark. There's no way he'd have joined up with those people."

"Nazis, HYDRA, what's the difference?!"

"Soldat?"

All eyes immediately turned to Natasha as she approached and finally got a good look at the man Loki was trying so hard to shield. Loki grimaced. "Oh. You."

Bucky flinched, looking as though she'd just slapped him. "Natalia, please don't call me that. It's Bucky, okay?"

"Sure, yeah." She laughed, launching herself at him. "And it's Natasha now."

Her arms over his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist were more than Loki could bear. When he noticed that Bucky was holding her up with both hands cupping her rear, he'd more than had enough. With a growl, he used magic to pry her loose and pin her to the ceiling. "That is quite enough, Agent Romanov. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't make me tell you again."

"Put her down, Loki." Oh, great. There was Banner, eyes wide like a frightened rabbit, but approaching him nonetheless. "Before I let the other guy put you down again."

"Doctor Banner," he ground out as he slowly and more than a little reluctantly set the struggling spy down on the floor. "Delightful. Well, I see the gang's all here. Thor, this was your harebrained scheme, so why don't you clean up this mess?"

"Happily," Thor muttered, "if you'll stop making a bigger one."

"No promises. The next person to lay hands on James will be a smear of blood and innards on the wall."

"Loki, calm down." Hugging him from behind, Bucky murmured in his ear, "I'm not going anywhere."

Making no effort at all to prevent the Avengers from hearing him, Loki snapped, "I don't trust these people."

"For the record," Natasha pointed out, "we're not the ones who tried to blow up New York a week ago."

He smirked. "Nor am I, Agent Romanov. That was someone on your side, if you recall."

"The Chitauri?"

"Oh, that. I thought you were referring to the bomb." A little, dismissive shrug, and then, "Most of the damage to the city was still done by you lot. The Chitauri were mostly just...flying around."

"Also trying to kill people."

"Loki needs our help," Thor called out, just loud enough to drown out any further conversation. The Avengers all gaped at him as though he'd gone mad. It made Loki smile. "There was another force behind the attacks last week. Someone far worse was pulling Loki's strings-"

"Really, Thor, I'm not a puppet!"

"Unless you want to explain this yourself and hope any of them listen to a word that comes out of your weaselly mouth instead of simply killing you, sit down and shut up, brother."

"Marionette, anyway." When everyone turned to stare at him, Bucky blushed. "The-the ones with strings. That's marionettes, not puppets."

With a patient smile, Steve gently chided him, "Not really the time, Buck."

"...Right. Sorry. Continue not bothering to listen to each other. I'll be over here." Out came the phone, and Bucky was lost to them all as he scrolled through pictures of Eira again.

"What's with the phone?" Loki flinched and turned; he hadn't realized Barton was in the room until then. "Isn't he a little old to be sucked into that thing while we're all talking?"

"He's looking at photographs of their daughter," Thor told him with a dismissive wave of his hand, ignoring the death glare he received from Loki for it. "Now, if we can get back on-"

"...Their daughter?" Tony interrupted, stepping forward. "I'm sorry... Who's the other half of the 'they' in that equation?"

When Thor opened his mouth to explain, Loki grabbed his arm and squeezed hard enough to make him gasp. "I will kill you."

"And then they will kill you, and the world will end when there's no one to warn them about Thanos, and James and Eira will be left unprotected, likely to suffer horribly and die."

With a frustrated growl, Loki released him and, briefly, shifted to his female form. "I am, alright? Everyone's burning curiosity satisfied?" Shifting back, he took advantage of the stunned silence that had taken hold of the room and snapped, "There is a mad Titan with the ability to mind-control a God out there attempting to collect the most powerful artifacts in the universe, and while he declined to share the purpose of this venture with me during my captivity, I find myself seriously doubting that it involves giving everyone their own kitten. Now, can we focus, please?!"

Banner frowned. "Who did he mind-control?"

"How?!" He was beginning to get a stupidity-induced headache. Hands flying up in a wide gesture to the room at large, Loki looked at Thor and demanded, "How is it you think these people can possibly help?"

_____________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 9

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3183

A/N: This chapter’s extra long to make up for how shitty I’ve been with updating lately. Thanks for sticking around; feedback is always appreciated and my inbox is always open!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9: Ballroom Blitz | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

“I’m not wearing that.”

“You have to, it’s tradition!”

“Screw tradition, I’m not wearing it!”

You’re in a face-off with Madison, glaring fiercely at the woman while she clutches a corset in her hands. After Desa wasn’t able to convince you to wear it, she had gone to get Madison, which only agitated you more. You’re already nervous about seeing Michael tonight, as well as being in a room with a bunch of legendary gods and goddesses who are so much more worldly than you are. Your nerves are shot, and this is really not helping things right now.

Madison sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Why won’t you wear it?”

“Because it’s a sexist piece of clothing rooted in patriarchal values. They’re used specifically to make a woman ‘aesthetically pleasing,’ which is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You explain your viewpoint.

“I...really hate that you’re right.” Madison concedes after a moment, causing you to smirk with pride. “Fine, don’t wear it. You’ll look great no matter what.”

Madison is already dressed, wearing a black strapless dress with sleeves that flow down to her elbows and a slit on the side of the fabric that shows off her long legs. Gold leaves accent the dress in just the right way, and the outfit is completed with a dainty diadem on her head. You can only imagine that every other woman who will be attending tonight will look just as ethereal as the woman in front of you.

“I’m not gonna be able to even stand next to you and all the other goddesses.” You chuckle, attempting to make light of your very real fear.

“Why not?”

“Look at you, and then look at me. There’s your answer.” Madison frowns, tossing the corset onto your bed and grabbing your shoulders to drag you towards the mirror.

“Why do you put yourself down so much? You do this whenever I dress you up.”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to not compare myself when I’m surrounded by all these perfect women. Plus, with social media you’ve got Instagram models and Facetune being shown to you everyday. It’s pretty much ingrained in our minds to compare ourselves and see how we can be ‘better.’” You cough, meeting Madison’s eyes through the mirror. “It’s just normal, I guess.”

“Beauty is very much a human concept. Even at the height of Greek civilization, mortals were fighting over what beauty truly was. Do you know what some of the greatest philosophers decided?” You shake your head, and she smiles. “They couldn’t come to a conclusion. Beauty’s subjective, and it’s often true that the most beautiful people carry their beauty within them.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Hush. You don’t know how beautiful you are, both on the outside and the inside. If the Greeks fought a war over Helen of Troy’s beauty, they’d fight ten wars over yours. You have the literal God of the Underworld head over heels for you, and not to mention all of the beings down here who are drawn to your inner beauty. I promise, you belong here. Besides, when you’ve been alive for as long as all of us have, judging people based on the symmetry of their face or how conventionally attractive their features are becomes very blasé and trivial.”

You attempt to desperately blink your tears away, not wanting to ruin the makeup Desa had so carefully helped you to apply earlier. First Michael’s declaration yesterday, and now Madison’s lecture/reminder today, and now you want to collapse into a puddle of tears and hug every person in sight. Madison senses this, and she rolls her eyes before sighing.

“Get over here and hug me.” She loses her balance slightly at the intensity of your hug, but quickly returns it.

“I knew you’d give into my hugs soon enough.” You mutter into her ear, feeling her shoulders shake with laughter.

“Don’t you dare tell anybody how much of a sap you’ve made me become.” She jokingly warns you.

“Your secret’s safe with me, I swear.”

“Alright, we’ve wasted enough time having a heart-to-heart chat, let’s get you dressed.” Madison snaps her fingers, and Desa appears with a dress in her hands.

Minutes later, you’re inspecting yourself in the mirror again, but this time with glee instead of criticism. The two women (your best friends here, if you’re being honest) picked out a dress made out of some flowy fabric--Organza? Chiffon? You wish you would have paid more attention to your grandmother’s attempts to teach you sewing--that falls down your body like water. The neckline is a deep V, almost reaching down to your waist. You’ve never been a fan of the color pink, but the pale pink color compliments you perfectly. Silver flowers wrap around your figure, which you’re sure is a deliberate choice on Madison’s part. Desa’s wrapped the same flowers throughout your hair. You look completely different while also looking the same as always, kind of like-

“A goddess.” Three sets of eyes go towards the door, where Michael now stands and watches you. You note with glee that fashion is, indeed, not lost on Greek gods. He’s wearing a velvet, blood-red jacket over a sharp black dress shirt, black slacks tucked into the red-bottom boots he’s fond of, and a red and black scarf tied around his neck. Red eyeshadow makes his cyan eyes pop even more than you thought was possible.

“Your hair!” You exclaim, choosing to focus on arguably the smallest detail. In your defense, his hair looks nothing like you’ve seen before; in the span of a day, his hair has grown down to his shoulders.

“You don’t like it?” He teases.

“No I do, I like it a lot, it’s just different. A good different, though.” You stutter out, blushing at how dumb you probably look right now.

“And you, my dear, look like a goddess.” Michael, ever the gentleman, kisses the back of your hand after he approaches you.

“See you out there.” Madison smirks, throwing a cheeky wink your way before sauntering out the door.

“Anything else, (Y/N)?” Desa asks.

“No, thank you Desa.” You smile at the handmaiden, who nods before disappearing. Suddenly it’s just you and Michael, which sends butterflies fluttering through your abdomen. Michael grins at you deviously before leaning in to kiss you.

“You should have started with that.” You giggle breathlessly as Michael places his large, ringed hands on your waist.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Less compliments, more kissing.” He makes his point by kissing you again. “I meant what I said, though. You really do look like a goddess.”

“And I meant what I said, too. I really like the hair. You should consider keeping it like this.” You run a hand through his hair, relishing in the silky feeling.

“Hmm, I’ll consider it. For now, we really should be going. It’s not too good for the host and his lovely date to be late.”

“Wait!” You drag Michael to a stop, and he looks at you in confusion. “I forgot shoes.” You say sheepishly, letting go of his hand to grab the pair of (low) heels still sitting at the end of your bed. You shove them on as quickly as possible, holding Michael’s hands for balance so that you don’t fall.

“Are you ready now?” He asks, smiling fondly at you. With your nod, he lets you wrap your hand around his forearm again, leading you to the throne room.

He can sense how nervous you are as you stand in front of the closed doors, waiting for the butlers to open them and formally introduce Michael. Your grip on his arm keeps growing tighter, and you’re nervously shifting your weight back and forth between each foot.

“There’s no reason to be nervous, (Y/N). I’ve got you.” He reassures you.

“Just...don’t let go of me, okay?”

“Never.” You straighten up when you hear the faint voice of a man announcing “the arrival of his Majesty, King Hades, God of the Dead, Lord of the Underworld, accompanied by Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” The doors swing open, and you stifle a gasp.

The throne room is beautifully decorated, looking every bit as rich and extravagant as you imagined a party thrown by Greek gods and goddesses would be. All eyes are on you and Michael as you descend down the grand staircase. You’re smiling, but on the inside you’re desperately repeating to yourself ‘don’t fall, don’t fall.’

“I’ve got you.” He repeats in your ear, hiding a smirk after hearing your terrified thoughts. At the bottom of the staircase, Michael commands all of the attention.

“Dear friends, thank you for joining us here in the Underworld tonight. Please, eat, drink, dance, and be merry.” You assume that this little speech is customary by the bored tone of his voice and the way everyone resumes their conversations the second Michael’s done talking.

“You did good.” You encourage, relaxing now that nobody’s looking at you.

“Funny.” He says dryly, smirking at you.

“I’m serious!” You bump shoulders with him playfully, enjoying the laugh you get from him. His smile quickly morphs into a frown, and you look around while trying to figure out what’s got him down.

“Here comes trouble.” He mutters before forcing a neutral look on his face. A small brunette with doe-eyes approaches, her gold dress trailing behind her. She smiles warmly, but you can see the hesitation in her eyes.

“Michael.” She greets warmly, hugging Michael quickly before pulling away.

“Sister.” He kisses both of her cheeks while you watch in bewilderment. Sister? “(Y/N), this is my sister, Hera.”

“I prefer to go by Violet nowadays.” She smiles at you, hugging you too. “It’s so nice to finally meet you (Y/N). After hearing my brother go on and on about you for months, I was beginning to think he’d never actually make a move.” You giggle as Michael grits his teeth.

“Violet.” He warns, but there’s no malice behind the ‘threat.’

“Ah, I was wondering where my darling wife had ran off too.” Violet stiffens, the atmosphere growing cold when a man with blonde curls (almost like Michael’s, you note) and dark eyes appears and places his hand on Violet’s shoulder. Your eyes widen when you realize that this must be the legendary Zeus.

“Tate.” Michael acknowledges Zeus’ presence with his modern name. Tate smiles coldly, dark eyes fixating on you.

“Is this the object of Michael’s affection?” Michael’s grip tightens protectively on your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

“This is (Y/N).” Tate holds out his arm, and you take his hand and let him kiss the back of it. It doesn’t feel nearly as nice as when Michael does it, and you take your hand back quickly from him.

“(Y/N). I’m Tate, Michael’s brother, brother-in-law, unwilling vessel used in his conception, you know.” You don’t know, but you nod anyways.

“It’s nice to meet you.” It’s a tense stare down between the two men, you and Violet looking at each other in worry.

“You’ll have to excuse us, Tate. As the host, I do have to greet the other guests.” Michael quips.

“Of course. Come, Violet.” Tate grabs Violet harshly, pulling her away as she waves ‘goodbye’ at you. When they’re far enough away, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“That was…”

“Horrible? Vomit-inducing?” Michael fills in.

“Quite the experience.” You finish, not wanting to be as cruel as Michael. “I see why you got so mad at our first supper, when I called him your brother? You handle yourself extremely well around him, though.” You smile at him, watching as the rage leaves his eyes.

“You’re the only person who can manage to calm me down so easily, you know that?” You shrug bashfully.

“One of my special talents, I guess.” Michael cocks his head to the side, listening to the song the band plays.

“Care for a dance?”

“Oh, I don’t know how to dance.” You explain. Michael smirks at you, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” Your hand intertwines with his, the other resting on his shoulder while he keeps his on your waist. You stumble a bit, apologizing profusely when you step on his toes, but soon he’s swinging you around the room, grinning as you laugh. You watch the other couples whirl around you, smiling nostalgically.

“What?” Michael questions.

“This just reminds me of a movie I used to watch when I was little. Labyrinth?” You’re not surprised when he shakes his head to let you know he doesn’t understand. “Ah, well, there was a scene where the main characters are at a masquerade ball, and they’re dancing just like this. Just reminded me of home, I guess.”

Michael looks down at you, obviously thinking about something. “I’m not sure of the extent of, or if there even will be, any consequences, but maybe we could go up Above for a visit soon?”

“You’d do that?” You ask joyfully.

“Of course I would, I-” A shriek cuts Michael off as he stops you both. The band’s playing comes to a halt, and the lights flicker as more shrieks fill the room. The doors have been blown wide open, both hanging haphazardly off of the hinges. Guests move towards the back of the throne room, trying desperately to get away from whatever threat has invaded Hell. Michael stands in front of you, so you crane your neck to get a view.

A tall figure stands at the bottom of the stairs, his head brushing against the cavernous ceilings that are at least 10 feet above you. His entire body is coal-black and moves as though it’s made of smoke, raised etchings decorating what must be considered his skin. His eyes are burning embers, and the horns that top his head shine when hit with light. Michael steps forward, shocking you. Your shock only increases when he bows his head.

“Father.” You gasp at his greeting, screams surrounding you. His father? Who is his father? You’ve never really entertained the idea of Michael’s parents. Is this Cronus, the father of the 12 main Olympians that you were taught about during (frequently-wrong) elementary school lessons? Or is this Satan himself? Zoe and Madison appear next to you, each grabbing an arm.

“Take (Y/N) to my chambers, and don’t let her out of your sight until I’m there.” They nod in agreement while you try to fight them off.

“Michael!” You protest.

“Do as I say.” He commands, looking at you with what you realize is fear. You nod, and Madison transmutates the three of you out of the throne room. You yell out in frustration after you’ve safely landed in Michael’s office, Zoe and Madison securing the premises.

“Who the fuck was that?” You question, trying to calm down before you really get angry.

“It’s...difficult to explain, but I’ll try. Basically, the so-called ‘religions’ all got some things right, and some things wrong. Even though Michael is Hades, he’s also Satan’s son. I know that it’s confusing, trust me, I’ve tried to figure this out for thousands of years but I still don’t have it all worked out.” Zoe says.

“So that was Satan?”

“Yep.”

“Is Michael going to be okay?”

“There’s no way to know for sure right now. Satan doesn’t usually show up to these sorts of events; he hasn’t even been seen for the last five centuries. The only thing to do now is wait.”

You’ve always been impatient, whether it be with test scores, appointments, or just being told to wait. You attempt to pass the time by pacing back and forth, but after twenty minutes you realize you can’t keep this up. Switching to perusing Michael’s bookshelves, another two hours pass with no sign of Michael. Zoe and Madison have remained seated on one of the couches, watching you the entire time. At some point in the early hours of the morning, you fall asleep on Michael’s bed, fully clothed and with tears of worry making tracks down your face.

The feeling of somebody touching your feet has you jolting up in a panic, ready for a fight. If there’s one thing you hate more than anything, it’s people touching your feet.

“Hey, it’s just me! Please don’t kick me!” Your eyes adjust to the dimmed lighting, finally seeing Michael crouched down in front of you.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Your half-asleep brain doesn’t even realize what’s going on right now, you’re just mad that someone woke you up.

“Your shoes were still on, I was just trying to take them off for you.” You look around the room, noticing Madison and Zoe are both gone. It takes another moment for you to realize why you fell asleep in Michael’s bedroom before you leap off the bed and into his arms.

“Michael, I was so worried! Are you okay? What happened?” You bombard him with questions. He lifts you up like you weigh nothing, laying down on the bed with you.

“I’m fine, everything’s fine. My father just picked the wrong time to stop by for a visit.”

“‘A visit?’ Madison told me he hadn’t even been seen in five hundred years.” You look at him with a frown. His hair is disheveled, and his outfit is ripped to shreds. There’s blood all over him, but the wounds have already healed. “Jesus, Michael. What did he do to you?” Your hand touches his forehead, stroking the three streaks of blood where he had obviously been scratched.

“We just had a disagreement. He’s trying to convince me to turn my back on Olympus, overthrow the system and basically unleash the apocalypse so that he can rule on Earth. It’s a fight we’ve had off and on for years.” Your mind quickly connects the dots, and you sigh.

“That’s why you needed me out of there.”

“He gave me two choices: send you back Above and ‘hope’ the prophecy works and the end of the world happens, or kill you and set it off that way.” Your blood runs cold at Satan’s ‘options’ that he’s given to his son.

“So, is-”

“I managed to banish him to Tartarus. It’s not much, and it will only hold him for a couple of weeks, but by then Madison should have found the prophecy and we can have a more concrete plan.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You can hold me?” It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, but thankfully it’s a request that you can easily handle.

“Do you want to get out of those clothes, get cleaned up or something?” He shakes his head.

“I’m just tired. We can worry about that in the morning.” The battle with his father has obviously shaken him, so you wrap your arms around him and decide to worry about the mess that’s left behind in the morning.

Tag List: @nana15774 @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @let-me-try-mom @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @lichellaw @sebastianshoe @pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @alexcornerblog @dolceandchalamet @everything-is-awesomesauce @langdonslove @ccodyfern @henrycavillstalkingmustache @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @hplotrfan @omg-hellgirl @gallxntdean

[hellyeahomeland]

Me again with more Carrie and Saul. can you elaborate on how it’s different between them? You say it’s evolved but I don’t see how. Things have happened to Carrie especially, but I don’t really see how their relationship has changed at its core. Maybe Saul treats her more like an adult but even that’s debatable imo. I don’t mean to be argumentative for argument’s sake but... (continued...)

Cont… can you give concrete examples of how the development has played out on screen so I can understand it & hopefully S8 better. Specific scenes and what how they weren’t just individual scenes but changed the relationship going forward. Much appreciated! Oh and one more thing re: Saul and Carrie, sorry I forgot. Can you also venture a guess what it means in practice? What do you think will happen between them that will feel like closure or catharsis or something that’s expected of a show’s final season and perhaps finale as well?

Note #1: this became a lot longer than I expected (sorry, you asked!). Beyond what I’ve written, I challenge you to go back and watch these individual scenes. I’ve chosen ones from each season to illustrate the full arc of their relationship. Observe the differences in Claire and Mandy’s body language, in their facial expressions, in their discomfort, in the shared trauma of what’s come before. It’s deliberate writing and deliberate acting. Shorter version of this post is here, from April 2018.

Note #2: I chose almost exclusively scenes of conflict to represent the evolution of their relationship because I believe that conflict drives change. 

PROLOGUE:

To understand the Carrie and Saul relationship, we’ve got to understand what their relationship was before we met them. From what we know, Saul recruited Carrie, straight out of college. He saw in her something special and unique, something that didn’t come around every other day. She was gifted but she was also alone. She had no partner. She was socially isolated from her family and from the world (he didn’t yet know of her mental illness). This was an advantage of sorts. It meant she could give herself more and more to the work, same as he did. Remember this is his Achilles’ heel: whenever they call, he picks up. He doesn’t know how not to. It destroyed his marriage. But he molds her in his image. He teaches her, he raises her, the way a father would his daughter. He brings her up. Their relationship melds the boundaries of teacher/student, boss/employee, mentor/mentee, and father/daughter. It’s personal, and it’s deeply intimate. 

This is what we are given before the pilot and it’s what we’ve grappled with for nearly eight years: his attempts to harness her gifts–often to her detriment–and her simultaneous resentment of him for it and unwavering yearning for his approval. 

Key Scenes in the Carrie and Saul Canon:

#1: “What happened to the Saul Berenson that trekked the Karakoram?”: Much of the season one conflict between Carrie and Saul comes from her three thousand miles an hour suspicion of Brody and him being like “whoa slow down pls.” He is the first person she tells of these suspicions and he essentially shoots her down, causing her to go rogue. It’s here where the lines become blurred between boss/protege and father/daughter, because the way in which he chastises and punishes her feels awfully familial. 

So when Carrie finally reaches a breaking point in “Blind Spot” (the original Carrie Mathison Appreciation Episode), we feel that as though a family is breaking up. It doesn’t matter that she comes crawling back to him, just an episode later, remorseful. 

Carrie underlines just how much Saul has changed: in her words, from the man who “did three months in a Malaysian prison” (HELLO???? repeat: he raised her in his image) to a pussy. We understand that Carrie and Saul are both outsiders in the CIA. We understand that Saul is still grappling with his former employee David Estes bring promoted over him. While Carrie truly seems to not give a fuck, Saul keeps in line. He says “yes, sir.” He advises caution. None of these are inherently bad qualities but in this scene we come to understand that what drew Carrie to Saul was not his caution, his yin to her yang, but his daring and bravery and “FUCK THE CIA” mentality (there’s a reason why that line is in this episode too). 

#2: “You don’t know a goddamned thing”: This scene is now famous for lines like “you’re the smartest and dumbest fucking person I’ve ever known” (he’s not wrong) but this scene is actually one of the more important ones ever on this show, and I still maintain that t“The Choice” is the mos important ever Homeland episode. As to why this scene itself is significant in their relationship, I’ll allow Jacob Clifton to explain:

Saul is one thing only, and his love for Carrie comes out of the idea that they are the same. And he’s right. But because she’s giving up herself to something he can’t, it looks like they are not the same. It looks ugly to him. He fights it like an addict fights recovery, striking blindly at her softest places because can’t stand the change in vector: Her madness is only acceptable as long as it’s useful; her self-abnegation is only positive so long as he can understand it.

I bolded that last sentence because it’s almost shockingly predictive of future seasons. We can hem and haw all we want about Saul’s relative rightness about Carrie leaving the CIA for Brody being a terrible decision, but the truth is that he would have done it regardless of who Brody was. He would have done it if she’d left with Quinn, with Jonas, with Otto, with Estes, with anyone, or all by herself. I don’t actually believe that Saul wants Carrie to be miserable. I just think he doesn’t care. I think he sees her gifts, her “saving the world” (to be totally Mandy Patinkin about it) as a more profound and upright calling than, for example: having a family, being a mother, having an integrated and whole personal life… the list goes on. 

But the moment when Carrie tells him she doesn’t want to end up alone her whole life, like him, is probably the first great fissure in what was until then a generally even relationship. It establishes her desire for… something beyond everything he’d ever shown her (she literally turns down the greatest career opportunity ever for THE DUDE IN THE SUICIDE VEST… and like, did we ever consider that wasn’t really about Carrie loving Brody so much but more about how much she really didn’t fucking want to be Saul????). She threatens his control and he strikes her at the knees. 

#3: Literally all of season three: It’s difficult to choose a single scene in season three to encapsulate just how much Carrie and Saul’s relationship this season was changed but let’s just discuss the overall arc:

Saul and Carrie come up with a plan to lure out Javadi (i.e., Iran) since they know he’s partially responsible for the Langley bombing. In their shared plan, Carrie will pretend to be crazy in front of the Senate and the press so that she seems vulnerable to the influence of a foreign power. Coolness. 

Except Saul changes the plan in the middle and: 

Publicly blames the Langley bombing on Carrie

Outs Carrie’s sexual relationship with Brody on national television 

Has Carrie committed to a mental institution for four weeks with little to no contact with the outside world

Sics Dar fucking Adal on her when she gets out of the mental institution in order to maintain the cover

The scene at the end of “Game On” where Carrie comes to Saul’s house and tells him the plan has worked is devastating to watch. I don’t think it was entirely clear at the time just how much Saul’s plan had strayed from their shared vision until Carrie tells him, through tears, “you should have gotten me out of there, Saul. You shouldn’t have left me in there.” He doesn’t say anything in response. When she tells him it’s too hard, she can’t keep going, he offers her some tea. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking sad. 

Again: 

Her madness is only acceptable as long as it’s useful; her self-abnegation is only positive so long as he can understand it.

Season three was all about that: about the lengths Saul would go with Carrie’s own illness, and how far along she’d left herself go too. Javadi literally makes a speech about it.

Now, Carrie wasn’t forced to do any of this (well, except the mental institution, that was extremely forced). We see at times how desperately she craves his attention and approval: in “Tower of David,” when she pleads with her therapist to give a good report back to Saul; in “The Yoga Play,” where he berates her for getting involved in Brody Family Drama and tells her she’s ruined everything and ARE YOU HAPPY ABOUT THAT NOW CARRIE (god, the father/daughter vibes in that one are nauseating); in “Still Positive” when she calls him, triumphant, after having arranged the meeting with Javadi and he’s like “oh yeah by the way we lost you for a few hours there.” 

(This doesn’t fit into the above theme but the scene at the end of “One Last Thing” when Carrie tells him in order for any of this shit to work they have to trust each other is one of the most interesting and important scenes of the whole season, simply because it implies one easy truth: they don’t trust each other. And what a change that is from earlier seasons.) 

And yet, he needed her for it all to work. Saul may have been the mastermind of the entire clusterfuck of season three (better on rewatch than you would think!), but without Carrie literally every step of the way, it would have gone up in flames. She lured Javadi to America with her 95%-based-in-reality mania. She convinced Brody to go to Iran knowing it would almost certainly end in his death. And then she went straight along to Tehran knowing she’d probably have to witness it all. 

The end of season three is super interesting in their relationship because I believe in my gut and in my soul that Carrie still resents Saul for convincing her to convince Brody to go kill himself. I really believe this. Again, she wasn’t forced. She did this of her own volition. But he planted the seed in her head, and I think some part of Carrie–likely equal parts rational and irrational–blames him for it, even as she mostly blames herself. 

I won’t even mention Saul’s complete un-acknowledgement of Carrie being nine months pregnant in the last half of “The Star” but Saul basically ignoring Carrie’s child for four years is more significant than we give it credit for.

#4: “Escape or die. I promise.” The season four relationship between Carrie and Saul is interesting because it upends their previous dynamic. Carrie and Saul were always outsiders in the agency, but now he’s actually on the outside and she’s ascended, more an insider than ever. Also, I know part of it was grief, and again this is not an absolution, but where else do we think Carrie learned her casual disregard for human life? I’m just saying, season four came after season three. 

So anyway, when Carrie promises to Saul that he’ll kill him before letting him be re-captured by the Taliban, we almost sort of believe her. She nearly killed him once before (wanna know the quickest way to get me from 0 to 1500 words on this show? mention the end of “From A to B and Back Again.” but actually don’t please).

The middle episodes of season four–Carrie nearly killing Saul, reneging on her promise to kill him, and then tearfully saving him from himself–are extremely moving. And they cement the arc of that entire season, of Carrie ascending where Saul had fallen. “The student becomes the master” (or the Drone Queen, rather) and all that jazz. Her journey to save her soul coincided with her journey to save him. Is that coincidental? Saul stopped being Carrie’s moral compass around the time he lied to her and had her committed. But just as Carrie is finding her way amid the chaos and fog of war, Saul is making backdoor deals with Dar fucking Adal to turn a blind eye to Haqqani’s reign of terror so that he could go and be the CIA director again. 

Saul preached idealism and goodness and morality in an increasingly terrorized, dangerous, chaotic world. He raised her in that image. She strayed, but was finding her way back to it. In those final moments of season four, that betrayal is complete. She detaches from him. And their relationship is forever altered. 

#5: “There’s a line between us that you drew. Forget that. There’s a fucking wall.” Oh, season five. This is getting really long so I’ll try to be succinct: Carrie and Saul’s relationship in season five is about her being in mortal danger and him being like “lol good luck….. NOT.” Ok, it’s only like that for an episode. 

How do they come back from the damage done at the end of season four? I think the answer is that they didn’t. They’re not healed from it. Parts of Carrie don’t trust Saul, and parts of Saul don’t trust Carrie. There are the surface elements of course: Carrie went and found a cool life in Berlin, riding bikes and wearing balloon hats and such, working for a man whose ideals often stood in direct counter to the CIA’s. In effect, she basically went and did the opposite of everything Saul had ever done. That this all comes in a time of real upheaval in Saul’s personal life (Mira divorced him, he’s literally fucking a Russian mole) only makes his ego more volatile. 

And then we have The Landstuhl Conundrum. I’m calling it this because it doesn’t yet have a name but I’m referring to the moment when the doctors say that they can’t wake Quinn from a coma, because if they do he will probably die or have irreversible brain damage. But Carrie and Saul believe he has valuable information about a terror cell that he’d eagerly share after coming out of said coma. Honestly!!! This show is extremely ridiculous sometimes. 

Anyway Saul is like “what would you want me to do if it were you lying there,” implying DUH she’d have him wake her. She says she can’t speak for Quinn. Well apparently she can, because she wakes him. Cue the irreversible brain damage, the almost-death. 

Later Saul comes to see her and Quinn at the hospital and asks how he is. “Not great,” she replies tersely. He tells her he didn’t come here to fight with her. 

Resentment City: Population of 1. I’ve actually beat this drum for a few years, but I still think that Carrie harbors resentment toward Saul for coercing her into waking Quinn. First Brody, then Quinn. This isn’t meant to absolve Carrie of blame. She convinced Brody to go to Tehran because she believed in that mission. She woke Quinn because she believed in that mission. But I do think that Saul gave her a nudge and I’m not 100% convinced that without his influence she’d have made the same choices. When we talk about Saul teaching Carrie, about him mentoring her… and then we talk about Carrie having no regard for human life, of choosing mission over man, time after time… how much of that is her nature and how much is him nurturing her toward that outcome? 

#6: “Maybe I don’t like the idea of you worrying about me.” Season six is spectacularly dull on many fronts, and the Carrie/Saul relationship is not the centerpiece. The evolution of their relationship after Berlin has taken the shape of something like season three. Saul needs Carrie’s help, she’s in no position to give it, he coaxes her with some terrifying outcome If She Won’t, then she agrees, and things still Turn Out Shitty For Her. 

Ultimately I think this season highlights that whatever difficulties they now have working with each other, whatever trust issues they both still harbor, at the end of the day it is ALWAYS Carrie and Saul Versus the World. That’s always what this story has been (though this is extremely different from their relationship being the same as it’s always been), and it’s what the show comes back to after Quinn’s death. 

He still cares about her. She tells him not to, he’s not her fucking father. This is one of the great complexities of their relationship: Saul often does coddle her the way a father would a daughter, but he’s a firm believer in tough love and all the forms that can take. 

Again, I don’t think that Saul wants Carrie to be miserable. I also don’t think he wants her to happy. Her personal fulfillment and well-being is just entirely secondary to her role in his own mission of Whatever The Fuck. I mean I guess his mission is for the world to be more peaceful and better but like… y’know how Thanos thinks that killing half the universe’s population will help with the suffering caused by overpopulation? I’m not saying Saul is Thanos. But they’re both deranged males! (Also, if y’all don’t think Saul would Gamora Carrie right up outta this dimension if it meant fulfilling his life’s mission then please let me sell you this Homeland lamp!) (But honestly, I’m not saying Saul is as bad as Thanos.) (Do not send in asks about this.)

#7: “You’ve given me a hard time these last few years.” Season seven takes the post-Berlin foundation that season six built and adds some new interesting layers that are like a weird inversion/combo of seasons four and five. Carrie’s more on the outside than she’s ever been and now Saul’s the one who’s gone to work for the enemy. 

Still, no matter whatever shit has gone down between them, it’s still Carrie and Saul Versus the World. The show highlights some key ideas in the last three episodes. First, it fully acknowledges that whenever Saul comes calling, Carrie will always answer. Remember how he said this was his Achilles’ heel? Remember how in that same episode Carrie said she was going to be alone her whole life? Remember how Saul raised Carrie in his image? These callbacks are not evidence of stagnation of their relationship; they’re references to its elemental core. 

Second, the show finally has Carrie acknowledge the… um… storm of shit Saul has put her through while also fully copping to the extreme codependence of their entire relationship:

I’ve not come all this way in that fucking plane and in my life to fail in that mission when I know I can succeed. You’ve given me a hard time the past few years. I’m in, I’m out, I’m all over the place. I am not all over the place now. I’m here and I’m all in, and I need you to say yes. 

She pledges her devotion to the mission (above all else). She acknowledges Saul’s hot-and-cold nature with her. And then she says SHE STILL NEEDS HIS APPROVAL because–say it with me–they are in an extremely! toxic! relationship!

In a nutshell, the evolution of the discord in Carrie and Saul’s relationship started with him putting her life at risk in service of the mission. And now we’re at a point where she fully fucking volunteers for the task! In my heart of hearts I think a non-zero part of Carrie is doing it so he will love her more. Did I mention they are in a codependent relationship? 

So where do we go from here?

If you are still reading, congratulations! That’ll teach you to ask me a question about Carrie and Saul! Actually, about five questions were asked. The last–what will happen in season eight that will feel at all like a catharsis–is not one that I’ve actually thought that much about. 

I think I’ve made a case for Carrie and Saul’s relationship being the soul of this show–its mangled, twisted soul. The truth is their relationship is toxic. They are both their best and worst selves with each other. Like family, they know what buttons to push, and where to strike to make it hurt the most. 

What catharsis looks like in this relationship depends a lot on how you see this relationship. For example, it would be cathartic for me for Saul to die, but that will almost certainly not happen. It would be cathartic for Carrie to strike out on her own–finally–and attempt some type of fulfillment. Also very unlikely. 

If I had to guess about what the end of this story will look like for them, it’s probably with Carrie dead. Probably on a mission Saul convinced her to believe in. 

Saul’s been alone his entire life. He will never be less alone because Carrie is alive. I guess that’s the prison he has to live in. And then maybe she’ll finally be free of hers. 

EPILOGUE:

The above is a reading of their relationship that is quite sympathetic to Carrie, obviously, and quite unsympathetic to Saul, also obviously. You will probably disagree. Gail has written very interesting stuff on how the dynamic of the Carrie/Saul relationship is most like handler/asset. I think that is a very astute perspective and there are definitely aspects of it but I think the relationship more resembles the trope of found family: she is the daughter he never had and he is the stable father she never had, and they will both ruin each other. Fin! 

[nedcanquen]

Chapter 9: Mr 7th Floor

In the past 8 months, I once again moved to a new country, applied to grad school, started and ended a relationship, and had to care for a family member. I’m sorry for the delay, but Matthew and Daan were never far from my mind.

Thank you to everyone who reads and has been patient with me!

Tags: Slow Burn (like…really slow burn) - endgame is NedCan but they don’t get there directly, Single POV, Yep, Canada will date other people before endgame because he’s very desirable even if he doesn’t always know it, Audit firm AU, Office AU, some angst…

Pairings: NedCan (endgame), NorCan, implied NedDen, DenNor, implied Spamano, France/Jeanne d’Arc, GerIta

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |  Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Image from Pexels

It’s warm here. Matthew breathes in the salty sea air and takes in a view he hasn’t seen in many many years. He loves Cuba already, he’s nineteen and ready for his first adventure outside of Canada, and there’s a part of him that’s not so secretly satisfied that he’s set foot in a place that his brother cannot go…

There’s a part of him that scoffs at that now, but then? You can be forgiven for making sweeping conclusions at nineteen.

He had gone for a special language course at the University of Havana, at least, that was the excuse. It was the summer before he would start his year abroad in Houston (and the disaster that was his personal experience there even if he held the city no personal ill will). Everyone had been yelling at him for years to do something crazy. Well here he was, this was it for him.

Travelling to a new country wasn’t exactly most people’s definition of “crazy” but it was still significant for Matthew. Up to that point, he had played it safe, preferred the quiet, his own company, and the cold. He fell sick whenever the temperatures teased their way to thirty degrees, he swam in the snow just for fun. So yes, running off to Cuba was “crazy” enough. The beginning of Havana had been wonderful - stepping into a new world of warmth and experience. Why had he forgotten it? Maybe because he had set forth for adventure outside of his vast country twice, and both times had made him vulnerable in a way that Canada never forced him to endure. It was easier to choose to forget.

But right now, he’s dreaming of it - he’s dreaming some fantastical, magical version of his early days in Havana, and he can’t bring himself to wake up even though he knows it’s a dream - or maybe it’s a memory springing forth because there’s no resistance to it.

The warm buzz from the wine has taken him back to a different warmth - a warm night. The humidity had turned his hair almost frizzy with curls but he hadn’t cared. His glasses smudged often with grease, humidity, and sweat, but he just wiped them clean with the cotton on his shirt and continued smiling anyway. When someone pressed a cocktail into his hand, he drank from it happily. In that warm haze of happiness he allowed himself to sway to the music - badly probably. That’s when he saw him.

Everything Matthew had wanted to be when he was nineteen, still, actually - confident, charismatic. When Carlos Garcia laughed and danced, he owned the room. And somehow on that evening, Carlos Garcia had decided that he wanted to teach Matthew how to dance as opposed to sway like a dead man thrown into a river.

Somewhere buried in the back of a book that Matthew no longer opens, but can’t get rid of, is a picture of him and Carlos lying down on a beach in Gilbara. Matthew is sitting down, looking out at the water, and Carlos is lying on the sand with his head on Matthew’s lap. The funny thing about something ending is that sometimes your mind blocks out the happier stuff from before. But now that Matthew is allowing himself to remember Cuba again, he remembers Carlos. For Matthew, Carlos is Cuba, there’s no separating the two.

Physically, Carlos and Daan are as different as night and day. Daan is long and lean, while Carlos was a little shorter than Matthew, strong and heavyset. Daan’s hair is short and styled to clean and spiky perfection - not a strand out of place. Carlos’ hair was long and free, twisted into dreadlocks. Looks were shallow though, because both possesed a familiar solid charisma, old-world charm, and frightening honesty that partnered comfortably with an easy confidence that lent well to leadership. Qualities that Matthew desperately wished he had.

Now he wants to wake up. He knows what happens after he leaves Cuba.   

And when he does…

The light through the curtains tells Matthew that he’s overslept. Fuck.

Not overslept actually, it’s just that he tries to wake up before sunrise three times a week for a run. He needs to run to burn off his excess energy, to manage stress, to make sure he doesn’t fall too far behind Alfred physically or his brother will walk all over him by habit. Besides, Matthew isn’t naive enough to overlook the fact that he’s been treated better at work since he’s gotten fit so…Wait, where is he? It takes a moment to adjust, simply because it’s not what he’s used to seeing. Eventually his brain catches up with him and Matthew jumps out of bed with a yelp.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...” He’s not exhausted and cranky anymore - just a moment ago he was warm, happy, worried, now he’s all over the place and out of sorts. Shit shit shit why did he think about Cuba? What on...forget that. He has to shower, he has to change, he doesn’t have his clothes he has to iron them and he’s late!

Matthew throws his bedroom door open, and sees Daan and Lukas look up at him curiously.

“Good morning.” They both greet in unison, and Matthew stands there frozen for a moment at the shocking domestic normalcy. Daan is sitting at the table, pouring chocolate sprinkles on a slice of bread and Lukas is ironing in the back of the kitchen near the washing and dryer machines. They’re both already dressed, though Lukas is wearing office attire and Daan has his bicycle-riding getup on with a fitting highlighter-orange shirt. Pretty darn fitting. Shit. It’s too early in the morning for this. Too late, but too early. He tries to step forward but instead walks into something.

“Ow! What the-” Hopping slightly and holding his pained toe, he looks down at a...a Roomba? It’s the slimmest Roomba he’s ever seen though, and Nijntje is sitting on it as it carries on, cleaning up the apartment.

“You okay?” Daan is half standing from the table and Matthew desperately waves him away.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! I just uh...ugh.” He limps a little to the breakfast table, while desperately trying to think of a way to distract them from his embarrassment. “Uh...where’s Mathias?” Why was that the first question out of his mouth?

Daan looks at him with concern and...that look again, that stupid Partner look like they’re reading your mind. Then it seems, as soon as the scrutiny starts, it stops. Daan instead sips coffee from a...a dick mug, of course. “He operates a food place.” He responds after he swallows. “He left hours ago to open up and catch the morning office crowd.” Breathe Matthew. Breathe.

“Oh...right. Uh...I’ll just change quickly and I’ll drive you guys to work? It’s the least I can do, you let me stay the night.”

Lukas and Daan look at each other with amused looks on their faces.

“It’s okay Matthew.” Daan smirks. “You didn’t exactly stay the night by choice.”

“So you’ve already done us a favor.” Lukas adds. “Here, I ironed your clothes.” He turns off the iron and walks up, holding a hanger with Matthew’s clothes, looking even more crisp than they did yesterday. How did he do that?! Matthew can only look at Lukas in astonishment and wonder for a moment again, how he ever ended up being able to date this guy. Or really...any guy he had ever dated, come think of it. At least with Lukas it ended before he could get truly hurt.

“Right, well, time for me to go.” He turns to see that Daan is leaving the table and heading to the door, carrying a light backpack.

“Wait Daan, you don’t want a ride?”

“Today’s a cycling day. I want to fit in as many of these in while the weather’s still good, which also means I need to leave now.”

As Daan takes down his selected bicycle from its place on the wall, Matthew remembers that sometimes, Daan cycles to work. Good thing there are showers in the office. “Oh, okay. Uh, be safe.”

Daan barely shrugs and opens the door.

“Wait!” Matthew calls out, it finally hits him, what’s wrong with this picture. “You don’t wear a helmet?!”

Daan looks back at him with a straight face. “I have a hard head.”

Matthew doesn’t answer because he can’t. That’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard, and he’s tired and out-of-sorts enough that it must show on his face because Daan throws up his hands in annoyance and stalks to a nearby closet.

“Oh fine! Is the auditor happy?” He asks, holding up a helmet and strapping it on.

“I...don’t know why you’re annoyed, I’m clearly the one who’s right here…?” Matthew responds with genuine confusion.

Matthew can’t read the deadpan look on Daan’s face but he isn’t sure it’s all that great. “I bet that’s your response whenever you turn up every year for the scheduled audit. Bye.” He waves at both of them, then leaves.

Matthew waves too, but once the door is closed he turns to Lukas. “Is it just me or was that weird? That was kind of weird right? Wait...ugh priorities, I need to get dressed. Damnit, I really did wake up late.”

Lukas just looks at him, then at the door in concern. Finally he takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Matthew, do me a favor. Breathe with me okay.”

What?

But that’s all Lukas does, stands in front of him quietly, with a little roomba working in the background, breathing deeply. Finally Matthew follows and after an initial period of feeling like an idiot he actually just focuses on breathing.

Breathe in, breathe out...breathe…

Eventually the world comes back into focus again. He still needs a shower, but it’s not life or death. Lukas seems to note the change too and nods. “Good. You have time, your clothes are ironed and you drive to work. Anyway, I’m not addicted to cycling, so I’ll take you up on that ride.”

He’s right. Matthew allows himself a smile “Where’d you learn that?”

Lukas scoffs a little. “From two different people - didn’t listen to the first one, then when I learned it from the second one I felt pretty dumb for ignoring it the first time. Simple but effective though. Why don’t you eat breakfast? It’s right there on the table, yoghurt, cheese and milk are in the fridge.”

Matthew looks at the table and notes that everything he would need for a cold breakfast is there. On weekdays he generally grabs something hot on the way into work leaving himself to cook his favorites on weekends. “Okay...cold it is.” He didn’t mind cereal, he just usually preferred something warm.

“You want...eggs? Something more filling?” Lukas guessed.

“No,” Matthew smiles, “I mean I’m used to warm things in the morning but the chocolate on bread thing looked good.”

Lukas nods, looking thoughtful about something before walking back to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some coffee, how do you like it?”

The coffee did wonders for Matthew’s mind. He remembered why he was here in this apartment in the first place instead of his own. Now that he’s more awake and there’s more light streaming into the apartment through open curtains, he notices more than he did yesterday - there’s a balcony with a healthy collection of lush green plants, and colorful flowers. Hitam is drinking water in her open cage, Nijntje is still riding around on the Roomba, and Maple appears to be asleep. It’s such a cheerful place, that clearly had a lot of thought put into it that Matthew feels sorry for Daan that he likely doesn’t spend much time in it.

“Your clothes.” Lukas says randomly, taking a seat across him at the table.

“My? Oh heh yeah. I’m amazed they don’t have anything inappropriate written on them. I suppose there was a limit to the gag gifts?” Matthew jokes.

Lukas smiles slightly. “No, because those are Mathias’ clothes. Makes sense I guess. Daan may be tall but he’s lean. Probably figured you wouldn’t be comfortable if he loaned you his clothes.”

Oh...that made sense actually. Speaking of Mathias, “You know it’s not my place to pry but…how are you doing? How is...I mean you seem tired but overall is it...good?” It’s a little awkward once it leaves his mouth, and Matthew doesn’t quite understand why he’s just asked his ex how it’s going with the first ex, but...well Lukas was the one who had brought him here. The two of them didn’t seem to interact much the previous night.

Matthew can see Lukas think of the answer. “It’s better.” He acknowledges. Lukas’ eyes flicker to his and stops.

“I can take it.” Matthew mutters, not quite sure if it’s true but he’s the one who asked, and somehow it’s less frightening than thinking of the fact that he’s in Daan’s home, dreaming of Carlos and his own mistakes. “Or I wouldn’t have asked. I’m...glad. I mean, is it still raw? Yeah, but it was nice to see the three of you last night, reminiscing and getting along. It was warm and...thanks for making sure I was never left out.”

Now Lukas looks surprised. He nods with a small smile and shrugs. “Thanks for coming here. I’m glad that you felt comfortable. I realize I must have put you in an awkward spot bringing you here.”

Matthew runs a thumb on the handle of his cup, and takes a deep breath. He looks at his mug while he does - a plain thing painted with a cheerful orange color - more orange, there’s a clear running theme here. There’s a lot of splashes of orange in this place. “Thanks for acknowledging that.” He eventually lets out. “But I’m the one who called you, so...I’m not entirely blameless. Did you two manage to talk about Arthur at all?” Matthew still doesn’t understand why a simple request to a friend of Arthur’s to check in on the man led to this but who knows? Maybe Lukas didn’t even know why he came here - maybe it was some unknown childhood dynamic thing - have a problem? Where do you go?

Lukas yawns and nods. “Daan will send me a message if he notes or hears that Arthur has been particularly bad, or is looking forward to a stressful time...which actually will be coming up soon. Daan gave me the heads up that has to hand over a large project to him today.” Lukas looks somewhat disappointed but doesn’t say much more. “He’s right though, a lot of what has to be done well...I’m Arthur’s friend. I have to do it, and I’ll start by taking him on a hike this weekend.”

Matthew smiles at that. It’s apt and appropriate. He’s also glad that even though they probably won’t be hiking together in the near future, that Lukas will still be able to give himself a reason to go.

“Speaking of, I’m helping to organize Arthur’s Partner party. I was planning on inviting you, and Belle, and well, Arthur’s friends basically in addition to my department and his current one. Could you do me a favor and think of anyone else who ought to be there while I finish up and get ready for work?”

“Sure.” Lukas shrugs, relieved and happy that they’re back to the topic of a common goal. “It’s basically one other guy, a friend of ours from the MBA. I think I can convince him to come on over. We can discuss the rest on the road.”

Matthew freezes a little standing up. “About that I...uh. Well I guess it’s a compliment that you trust me to drive so...thanks for that. But honestly it never occured to me until last night that being in a car is something that potentially uh, terrifies you so...if you’re ever in my car and uncomfortable you can-”

Lukas lets out a  sardonic laugh. “I’m terrified in very specific circumstances, otherwise it’s fine. But thanks.”

There’s an awkward beat where neither moves and they smile at each other, but it doesn’t last long. Matthew has a meeting to get to.

Before they get into the car though. “You’re sure you’re fine?” Matthew has to ask again.

Lukas just rolls his eyes with a smile. “Ask me anything else. Yes! I’m fine. It’s not like visibility will be terrible in rush hour traffic. At worst, someone may bump into you.”

Matthew laughs and pats his car with reassurance. “Well she may be old but she’s solid. Part of the fun about driving a pick-up in the city is that people generally avoid you. So no bumps.”

Of course, later he realizes that he’s now kind of stuck in a car in rush hour traffic with his ex and even though things were amiable in the morning, it’s a little awkward. He doesn’t know why he ends up asking about Daan, but it was natural to be curious right? He had just woken up in the man’s home. “Was it just me? Or did Daan seem annoyed with me this morning? Did you guys...talk about me last night? If it was an inconvenience having me over, I…”

Lukas snorts, which surprises Matthew, so he shuts up. “Oh God Matthew.” Lukas takes a breath. “Sorry I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m not laughing at you, and I shouldn’t be scoffing at Daan, there’s nothing funny about his situation, I’m just...anyway. Look, Daan isn’t annoyed with you, at all actually. He’s going through a transition right now, so there will be days he’s annoyed with everyone, but mostly himself. There will be days he’s not himself at all. That being said, if he gives you shit, don’t take it. What he’s going through isn’t your fault.”

A wave of worry and concern washes through Matthew for his newest friend, but if Daan has chosen not to share what’s happening with him, well, he’s not going to pry. Something occurs to him and since there’s an oddly open atmosphere between them right now, and he can’t really help but wonder, so he decides to ask.

“Back when I thought they were dating, it’s just hit me right now that you didn’t question me, you accepted it right away as if them together was really believable?” It is rather striking, now that Matthew thinks about it, that Lukas had accepted that scenario. If he had known those two for most his life and thought it was realistic that Daan and Mathias were together, well Matthew couldn’t really be blamed for having the wrong idea either.

Lukas nods slowly with a rueful smile. “Yeah, silly me. Mathias and I only became a thing when I moved back to Canada - after he had already done so much for Emil and my family, but that didn’t mean that I never...liked him before you know? Stupid teenage crushes. But back then I was just a weird neighbour that he knew and was nice to. But he and Daan? They’ve always been very close. Mathias could convince Daan to do all kinds of reckless or stupid things. Anyway, trust me, I know what it’s like when Daan actually is annoyed with someone. He really isn’t annoyed with you. Don’t let him scare you. Besides, you have it in you to be far scarier than he could hope to be.”

Matthew laughs. “Wait, what?! Where did that come from?” Lukas grins and shakes his head. “Matthew, green light.”

“Oh, right! Thanks. You know that’s not going to spare you from that. How am I scary?! Especially compared to Daan, that guy has made people cry with just a glance! I would never do that!”

But Lukas only laughs. “Have you seen this crying thing? Or is it a rumour?”

“It’s! Well...it’s…hmmm.”

Lukas just smirks and shakes his head at some internal thought. “How long have you and Daan been friends by the way?”

Matthew feels a worm of nervousness squirm in his stomach and tries to ignore it. “Took me by surprise to be honest, but the day after we...had dinner, I nearly got run over by a car and Daan was the Partner who was around and made sure I went to see a doctor. We’ve been ...I guess you could say friends since, but it still feels...I dunno, making friends is different when you’re not in school.” He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not that he never told Lukas about the stupid crush. Well it would be really stupid to bring it up now. What would be the point? “When he’s not being a Partner he’s not that hard to speak to.”

Lukas nods but Matthew can’t see his expression because he has to focus on driving. “That hasn’t been very long.”

“No. Which is why I felt kind of awkward last night, this morning, and all but…” He shrugs. “Everyone was so nice about it, so...thanks again. I mean it, I’m especially grateful, you made sure I was never too out of place for too long. Sometimes it can be kinda lonely when you’re sitting with a group of people who have known each other forever you know?”

Lukas shakes his head and simply says. “No. Thank you.”

It’s the worst meeting he has ever managed in a long time - remotely or in person. Michelle throws him a worried look from her desk and Matthew decides it’s better to hand the meeting over to her instead. She’s technically a manager now, even though she had started this project before that promotion. Anyway, isn’t this the benefit of having more than one manager? If one is having a no-good ‘I’m stupid’ day, there’s a backup? Michelle reads the look on his face and takes over seamlessly. Meanwhile, Matthew mutes his phone and lets out an exasperated sigh. He can’t leave the meeting, but he wishes he could.

Waking up in a different place, Arthur’s problems, his own weird life and weird morning...Daan seemed to be irritated with him, and when Lukas left the car he felt something a little off there too. Or maybe he was just tired, paranoid and anxious, or maybe Matthew just wasn’t good at having his routine messed with.

Michelle handles the meeting with aplomb, there’s not much that he has to do thank goodness, but he’s angry at himself because it’s basic and easy stuff! He spent years of effort into learning how to lead meetings! He had always known it was a potential weakness of his so he’d practice and practice and practice until the freezing nerves mostly became butterfly nerves, but today the freezing nerves had come back. He choked. No matter what sweet words Francis had for him, it appears that there was a good reason why he wasn’t promoted, and Francis could tell. Partners are their magic psychic voodoo when it came to assessing people, shit.

What good was Matthew? No wonder Daan was annoyed with him, no wonder he wasn’t promoted, no wonder Lukas-

“HEY!”

What the?? “Michelle you gave me heart attack!”

Michelle looks down at him in front of his cubicle with a knowing look. “No Matt.” She says softly. “You were doing that to yourself. Come on boss. Early lunch.”

“Wha?”

“Come on! We’ve barely caught up lately and I want to have lunch with you!”

Technically it wasn’t against the rules, if they ate lunch now that just meant packing food and eating it at their desks when they got hungry again since they were eating at an odd hour. Matthew just didn’t want to be irresponsible after this ridiculous two-hour long walkout the last week he was at work before almost getting hit by a car and getting sick. The time away was supposed to have reset everything, this week was supposed to be him returning to normal.

Michelle waves at Francis and points at the door, Matthew doesn’t look because he can’t bear to at that moment, he’s still too raw, and all too happy to let Michelle take the lead. Which she does. She whisks him out the doors into sunlight and fresh air. City people doing their things, even city birds were different from their non-urban cousins. Everyone and everything with a purpose. Except him.

Michelle asks him questions about what he prefers, but thinking is too much effort right now. Maybe he’s just too slow after the enforced holiday. That’s it. Thankfully, Michelle doesn’t point it out, and before long, he’s seated outdoors across from her at a cozy cafe. It’s nice he supposes, but he can’t wave away the guilt building within for making her worry in the first place, or making her take over his work.

“Matt.” Michelle sighs as she slides a cheerful looking rainbow colored cake towards him. “Remember last year when you rescued me?”

What? It must show on his face because Michelle gently reminds him. “Run of the mill, presentation to department heads, I knew all of them, I knew my work, I knew my own findings. Then I just couldn’t explain them. And the more I couldn’t explain, the more I talked, the more I talked, the less sense I made, the less sense I made, the worse it got. Then you stepped in. You have this power Matt, you calm everything and everyone down. You’ve always been able to do that, but it’s just gotten better over the years. Today was just my chance to repay you, at least once. I also remember you telling me afterwards that it happens to all of us.”

Matthew shakes his head and smiles at her kindness. Good ol’ Michelle. “Shell, you had just found out right before you were about to present that your father had been admitted to the hospital. Your family is an 18 hour flight away. We’re only human, of course under such pressure we all need a little help from time to time.”

“Exactly! So...Let me help you! Are you okay to share what happened to you this morning? You came in kinda...out of sorts.”

Matthew can’t help how hot is face is getting, he can only imagine how red he looks right now.

“Oh. My. God! You got laid!”

“What?! No! N-” Matthew whips his head around. Yes it’s not exactly peak hour but there’s still people around damnit! “No, I didn’t get laid!” He whispers urgently, but he doesn’t know if his whisper is actually soft. “How could you-No!”

“Oh Mattie, is that why you’re upset? You didn’t get laid?” Michelle laughs

“NO! What?? Why would I?? No I didn’t-”

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing! Still, that flush is the same flush you used to have over Mr. 7th Floor. I’ve kinda missed seeing it.”

Matthew throws his hands up in the air. Fucking Mr 7th Floor. This is never going away. “Okay I’m not in the mood to put up with the teasing that is the fucking 7th floor. But who I am ready to talk about is Arthur.”

“Arthur?!”

“Yeah.”

And that was how “Project: RESCUE KING LEAR” was born. Why? Because it was Arthur, and as long as they were dealing with him, they were going to use his ridiculous naming conventions.

Perhaps, sensing his raw mood, Michelle decided to stay by his side for the rest of the day. By the end of the day, she also did something else that was magnificent - she took a load off his shoulders.

From: michelle.velle@pkde.ca

To: <FRENCH_ASSUR@pkde.ca>

Subject: PARTY KING LEAR

Okay everyone here’s the deal - Arthur may have left us for greener and noisier pastures but he still started with us and he’s gotten the big promotion. So...just to be clear, I’M PLANNING THE PARTAY!

There will be kiddies, so no alcohol but that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna remind Arthur that we’re better than any of those 7th floor loudspeakers (we’re hotter too ;) ;) )!

Keep your evenings clear - you’re all getting instructions from me soon.

It’s quiet and dark out when Matthew finishes up for the day. He only found his focus and stride halfway through the afternoon so he decided to stay to get caught up on everything. It was easier after everyone left - as much as he liked them, it was peaceful. He didn’t want to bring work home anymore.

Matthew isn’t the last person out of the building. There are other stragglers on his floor, but his team is tucked in a corner, so Matthew feels comfortable and left alone with himself. He stretches and yawns without care because no one is looking, making sure that he feels and hears the pops and little cracks in his back as he does so.

“Ugh...that feels good.” He’s been too fucking stiff lately. Matthew places his feet up on his desk and stares at the ceiling unseeing for a while. It doesn’t hurt to breathe a little and close his mind off from work before driving home. Of course, it’s at the very point that he feels the most comfortable that his stomach growls. Of course.

Matthew lets out a sigh. He doesn’t feel like cooking, and he’s a little too hungry to wait for takeout. He would prefer to just go home. Looked like it was going to be a vending machine dinner once he actually got the energy to -

“You’re not actually supposed to sleep here you know.”

What? Matthew reluctantly turns his head away from the white ceiling and - oh fuck. “What are you doing -” He knocks some books off his desk as he tries to get his feet off it - shit “here?” Smooth Matt. Real smooth. He sighs and doesn’t bother picking them up, he’ll do that after. Instead he looks up.

Daan looks tired. “You look tired.” Well it’s 9pm and the man is still in the office as well, so of course he is. “Well, it’s-uh...nevermind.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

Matthew really can’t be surprised by the awkward silence that followed. He’s awake enough to be grateful that the second time Daan turns up at his desk is when none of his colleagues are around. That puts a smile on his face.

Somehow, Daan is smiling now too. Objectively speaking, tired Daan smiling is a good look. It’s not like he’s grinning like a fiend or anything, it’s just that with his eyes a little bleary and the corners of his lips have moved up, it’s enough to just soften him a little.

“Anyway, what brings you down here? Well, up here?” Matthew finally lets out.

Daan shrugs. “I saw your status online, still logged into work. Realized you didn’t sleep well this morning, so if you were in, I thought I’d deliver some goods.” He says as he lifts both hands.  

It’s just two plain paper bags but damn, Matthew can smell the goodness from where he is. “How? Where?”

“Ordered delivery. For a couple of months now, I’ve made sure I order extra to make sure that Emil eats dinner too. Well he’s not working late today, so I figure. my mattress sucks or I need to tell my brother to shower more often. You did not look like a guy who slept well this morning.”

That makes Matthew laugh too much, he doesn’t know why. “Oh my God, don’t. The bed smelled fine, the sheets were nice. The mattress was firm, there was nothing wrong with your hospitality. Hell you even fed me, I haven’t been so pampered, ever! Stop being so nice, I’m alive, I’m thriving. But thanks.”

“So you don’t want-”

“Fuck yes, give me the food! ...please. I was just about to go home anyway. You  need a ride? Or are you going to cycle back? If not, I drive a pickup, your bike will fit in the back.”

Daan seems to chuckle as he rolls over a chair, picks up Matthew’s books, and settles down. “I shouldn’t cycle back when I’m this tired. Anyway, I’m not done yet, I actually have to get more shit down after this, need input from Japan, but I’ll call an Uber home. My bike is safely standing in my allocated parking spot. Everyone knows it’s my bike. No one fucks with it even when I leave it overnight. If they fuck with it-”

“Okay I get it. So your bicycle gets its own parking spot. My pickup is jealous.” Figures - Matthew can just imagine that orange bicycle proudly standing between Porsches and BMWs.

Daan looks up with mock disappointment. “Matthew really. You’re not going to let me boast about what happens to anyone who fucks with my bike?”

“Dude I’m hungry.” He was about to say ‘and I’m tired’ but it wasn’t quite as true now as it was just a few moments ago.

Daan shoves the bag over, shaking his head. “Eat up then. Even the young’uns aren’t here. So it’s just us old fogies.” He says, as he tears open his own paper bag.

“You’re eating at my desk?!”

Daan is trying his hardest not to grin now and barely manages to shrug. “What, did you think I was going to mess up my desk?”

“I can’t believe you.” Matthew rolls his chair over to hit Daan’s in revenge - what good are wheels for if you can’t use them for a little bumper chairs once in a while?

“Hey! Do you want a clean desk or not?!”

Matthew has to turn away because he’s grinning too hard. “You’re cleaning up my desk if it gets messed up-”

“What?”

“I swear, because you’re the one who-”

“That’s a great ‘thank you’ for bringing you food. Holy fuck Matthew Williams, after everyone said you’re the ‘epitome of what a gentleman is.’ I’m surprised.”

He shouldn’t be laughing this hard. “Excuse me you’re giving me Emil’s leftovers! Fine, I’ll go easy on you. But you need to tell me what people say about me in return. And that...was so totally Arthur omg. What else do they say?”

Matthew is pretty sure that Daan is making the rest of it up, but it doesn’t matter. It’s one of the best work dinners he’s had - ever.

[humans-are-seriously-weird]

The Time I Almost Decapitated Someone While Trying To Surf

Brace for a whole lot of pain and stupidity. It starts off a little slow but stick around for the AHHHHHHH As some of you may know, i am an intense klutz. As in I-Will-Trip-Over-Absolutely-Nothing-And-Probs-Knock-Over-The-Crown-Jewels kind of klutz. A Would-Trip-And-Fall-Off-A-Cliff kind of klutz I really need to drive this point home ok this is v important to this story So this is back in Peru (yes the same trip the chicken chased me off a cliff). Work is over for the day, the sun is starting to set, and all 40 of us Canadians are headed to the beach for our very first surf lessons So we show up and our instructors hurl wetsuits at us. I do mean hurl like mine wrapped around my face like a squid i nearly died before i even hit the water smh We get separated into groups of five and head off with our instructors. All the other groups had these young Peruvian guys and girls, all smiles and gentle teachers My instructor was a cranky 80 year old who never spoke and stared at us until we figured out what we were supposed to do Before we even get to go near the beach we start learning the technique on land. We lay down on these fake boards and pretend paddle and pretend stand, all in complete silence because who needs words right Im at the point of assuming our instructor doesnt speak english, which is totes cool cause we’re getting the message anyways. We’d spent three days working around the language barrier, now was no different. Moving on Our instructor finally deems us worthy of hitting the water so we all gleefully make our way to the beach. We were all sunshine and laughter, expecting the warm sand between our toes Not happening The beach is not soft like we had thought. It was rocks. Thousands of rocks and pebbles that sent us skittering as we descended the steep incline to the water First off: No one told me how freaking exhausting this crap is All those movies of people surfing like haha look at me this is so easy and majestic be one with the waves dude were straight up liars ok i was panting and heaving like a 90 year old race horse by the time i made it out far enough to catch a wave Cue twenty frustrating minutes of trying and failing to paddle fast enough to stay on a wave I thought i looked like Dash Incredible, majesticly spearing across the water from a horde of bad guys, my arms windmilling at break neck speeds Yeah no I was more of a drowning sloth if im completely honest Id make it maybe two feet by the time one wave passed and the next was already approaching Here’s where my surfing attempt took an unexpected turn Water splashed behind me and i didnt bother turning around. Probably one of my classmates heading for a better wave area “Need some help?” The voice was definitely not my classmates My instructor sat casually on his board behind me I was so shocked to hear him speak that i just nodded dumbly, not aware of what i was agreeing to. He hops off his board and bobs in the water for a second. He casually puts on hand on the back of my board like he was keeping me from floating away Behind him a wave approaches. I lay back down and get ready to paddle. I figured maybe he’ll tell me when to start paddling so i can actually catch this one but the wave is getting closer and closer and there was still no word from him.  I was long past when I started paddling before I hear this soft intake of breath and then, “BRACE!!!” I obey blindly and grip my board in terror wondering if there was a shark lurking beneath me Instead my 80 year old instructor absolutely freaking catapults me forwards i swear that man could launch Niel Armstrong into orbit single handedly NASA who??

Im rocketing along along, too stunned to move Im on a wave!! Im on a… wave????? I scramble to my feet thinking somebody better be seeing this cuz i will not be doing this again By some miracle i manage to stand ok i do not have great balance on land so sticking me on a board in the middle of the ocean was in no ones best interest So im whizzing along feeling like im flying and just generally trying not to face plant on my board or topple into the sea ok i just got up here no way i can manage it a second time Something about the water ahead of me doesnt look right The sun is glaring off the water just enough to block whatever that thing is. Im squinting, praying im not about to hit a rock It was so much worse It was a man He was casually chillin on his board, a set of headphones in his ears, looking to the world like he was asleep Im heading straight for this guy at top speed and as i get closer i realize two very important things I dont know how to stop … … Or turn I think of the wicked looking fins on the bottom of my board I remember mildly thinking this is gonna hurt before reality truly set in I very well might kill this man if i dont figure something out fast I start screaming and flailing with as much strength as i can muster “MOVE MOVE!!!! UNLESS YOU WANNA BE FILLET LIKE A FISH YOU GOT MOVE I CANT STOOOOOP” He casually lifts out one ear bud and looks at me with a barely audible “que?” “YOU GON DIE MOVE!!!!” Clearly he didn’t understand english, but flailing and screaming is pretty universal He leisurely lays back and paddles forewards, moving him ever so slightly out of the danger zone My board hits his as i pass so close i could have flicked his nose My board launches off his and by some miracle i manage to not only stay on it, but stay standing I twist and stare back at the man I definitely did not kill as he casually lays back down on his board Good. That would have been troublesome to explain to immigration officers on my way home I face the beach again and prepare to enjoy my calm landing and– I am less than five feet from shore going full speed SHIT I do what any sane person would do I jump ship

That was the biggest mistake of my life 

See just as i jumped for dear life the wave hit its crest and i landed right in the middle of it 

Suddenly i was a soggy pair of Canadian socks in the worlds worst dryer 

On a very important side note, i am attached to the board by a long thin cable that is velcroed around my ankle, meant to keep the board from drifting and keep me safe 

That cord is the bane of my existence 

In my Horror Dryer Extreme experience the cord had managed to wrap from my ankle all the way up to my thigh, digging cruelly into my skin even through the wet suit 

I slam into shore like a beached whale 

Remember kids: shore is not my friend shore is OW 

I slam into the rocks and lay there dazed for a moment, gasping for air. No way im going back out there ill just let the water wash over me im done surfing im done with the ocean 

But the ocean wasnt done with me 

Suddenly im getting dragged by the leg down the beach. I sit up, ignoring the stones slowly filling my pants. 

My board had gotten stuck in the out take and was dragging me out to sea once again 

I go through another round of Angry Dryer Mama Ocean and get slammed mercilessly back into shore, this time hitting my face so hard i split the skin above my eye. I still have a scar hidden above my eyebrow from this 

At this point i am done 

I try to stand and grab my board but the cord was still wrapped around my leg 

Our teams guide who just so happened to be a surfer comes running over to see if im ok. “hey! Get up! Another wave is coming!” 

I try to shout back “i cant, im stuck!” But that’s not what comes out of my dizzy mouth 

Instead i lift my leg in the air like a dog and scream “I cant! It’s winding!” 

My guide took this as “I cant! Im drowning!” 

He runs over looking like a stern third grade teacher “you’re fine just get up!” 

“You think im not trying??” 

Another wave slams into me from behind and im washed out and washed back in. Lil me cant catch a break 

Somewhere in the time id been brutally slammed back to shore my guide vanished. Fine then

 I quickly unwrap my leg and scramble to my feet 

Screw this, screw the board, im leaving!! 

I start sprinting for my life up the hill to safety 

SPLAT 

My leg is yanked out from beneath me and i face plant hard 

I didnt take off the velcro strap 

Washed out 

And washed back in 

I rip the velcro from my ankle the second i hit shore 

My guide appears out of nowhere and grabs my board and starts shouting at me to run 

I ask no questions as I scramble up the side 

Now, my guide, carrying two 50lbs surf boards makes it to the top of the hill just fine 

Not me 

A wave sucker punches me and drags me out again 

Washed out. Washed in. 

At this point im just accepting my fate to be forever bound by the sea im like the opposite of a selkie except the sea has my foot and i cant stay on the freaking land free me from my curse 

Eventually i make it up to the top and collapse like sweet releif i am free of this hell 

My guide sets my board down and looks at me. “Rekina. Stay here, the others are having a hard time too. Dont do anything stupid” trust me pal im going no where this is my home now tell my mother i love her 

(Honestly Never tell me not to do something stupid. It’s a sure fire way to make sure i do the absolute dumbest thing possible) 

I shoot him a weak thumbs up as he takes off down the beach, cackling at the poor idiot Canadians floundering in the surf. 

Youd think my Adventure was over 

Not a chance pal 

I sit up and notice one of my classmates in the same predicament i was in 

There wasnt even another option for my next choice 

I stagger back down the hill and help him up. I grab his board and all but shove him back up the hill and somehow we both made it up safe and sound 

Until we see our teacher not moving on the beach below us, her body getting battered and tossed around by the waves 

Our guide is nearly a kilometer away down the beach, too far for us to call for help 

I look at my classmate and he’s shaking his head like i am not going down there again are you crazy

I pop to my feet and race down the hill i am not letting my teacher die on my watch ok im not that kind of person fight me 

My classmate groans and follows behind 

I grab the teacher who was thankfully just stunned and unhurt and help her to her feet. My classmate grabs her board and they both start staggering up the incline far too slowly. I stay behind them to make sure they dont fall and hit the surf again. Happily they made it up just fine 

Not my ass 

Im slammed face first into the ground courtesy of a massive wave that just loves me too much 

The ocean gave me a friendly love tap as it dragged me down the hill and slammed me against it one more time for good measure 

I finally make it back to the top and swear to never surf again in my life (but let’s be real even near drowning cant stop me from trying again)

All in all a pretty successful first attempt