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porgthespacepenguin · 2 years

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Thoughts about episode 2.9 (1/2)

Just finished the episode. I’m still shaking. What a gut punch.

Anyway, by now you know me: first post will focus on Qcard, and let me tell you, there’s a lot to talk about. Next post will cover the rest (hopefully).

I must warn you in advance, however. This episode killed me just to watch me die, so don’t expect my usual level of semi-coherence. This post consists mostly of me screaming into the void about the episode, with occasional flashes of analysis sprinkled throughout.

If that’s not scared you off: bravo, and onwards!

(Major spoilers under the cut: you’ve been warned.)

[Trigger warning: this post contains mention of suicide, including an image you may find disturbing.

The image, and the main discussion, are in the next section, so you can skip ahead to “End trigger warning” if needed.]

Where to even start? Oh, yeah: to borrow words from a great man,

"Boy, do I hate being right all the time."

I know, I know. So I’m definitely not right all the time. But I did nail a few of the twists, so let me enjoy my agony success in peace, all right?

[Start trigger warning]

* * * * *

Come find me

Wish I had been wrong

In a previous meta, I had called it: Jean-Luc had opened the door once before, but it resulted in his mother’s death. Hello, childhood trauma.

So, turns out I was right. Wish I wasn’t, though. Sorry about that.

Look, I’ll be honest: this topic is too personal, too triggering for me to dwell too long on it. So this section will be short.

Suffice to say, Maman hung herself in the winter garden, and Jean-Luc has been blaming himself for it since he was a child,

"I let her out, you see. If only I had left that door closed, she might have become an old woman."

Of course, it wasn’t his fault. Maman was sick, and in her sickness had made Baby!Picard a parentified child (which, by the way, explains a lot about him as an adult).

So when Maman begged him to help, he did what she asked. Of course he did.

He opened the door, and it cost him everything:

"I loved her. Desperately."

It wasn’t anybody’s faut, really. But it still broke him. And so Picard locked the door again, shattered the painted windows, and closed his heart to love.

Darker still

By the way, if you thought the foreshadowing surrounding Q’s fate was loud in 2.7 and 2.8... it’s deafening now.

Maman and Q have been mirrors of each other since 2.7, both explicitely through the sun symbolism they share, and implicitely, like in the conversation with Renee in episode 2.6.

And now we learn that, lost in the darkness, Maman has killed herself. In her death, she’s even shown to be wearing a white robe, much like Q was in Tapestry when Picard died:

As always: this isn’t a coincidence. There are no coincidences in big productions like Star Trek Picard. This is a choice.

And so Q’s fate grows ever darker.

(Also ... isn’t that line from earlier -- “I loved her. Desperately.” -- rather loud? If they bring it back in some form next episode, we’re in trouble, folks.)

* * * * *

[End trigger warning]

The key, at last

Having unlocked the memory of what truly happened to his mother, Picard can now finally start to come to terms with it, to heal from it, and move on.

Although, there’s still a significant element of mystery left. As Picard finally sees the dungeon from his dreams, he realizes that the wood of the platform is intact: his foot didn’t get caught in it like he had imagined.

But then what happened? How did he get stuck?

EDIT: @theboardwalkbody pointed out that they’re in the past, so nothing has happened yet. Doh! Wonder why the show made such a fuss about it then.

Did he turn around and try to escape, leaving her mother to her sickness? Did his mother, although lost in darkness, prevent him from following her after all?

And yet. I can’t help but notice that in Jean-Luc’s dream, he stepped into the light when he got stuck.

Is it possible Q intervened, saving his life yet again?

(Which would bring the current tally to 6 saves, and a nice round 7 if he does it again next week...)

Regardless, whatever or whoever held him back did save his life. And we’ll most likely find out next week, since, you know. Only one episode left!

Anyway, moving on.

Picard now holds the key to his own heart. Literally, even:

Q has given him this key, like he gave Kore the cure in episode 2.8. And now, also like her, all Jean-Luc has to do is choose to open the door and step through it.

Yet it may be too late to stop the sun from setting. Forever.

A lonely star

Before we continue, it’s imperative that you read @celestialwarzone‘s Q-sun meta if you haven’t already.

It establishes how and why Q is symbolized as the sun, and that information is critically important to understanding the importance of the next section.

With that out of the way, let’s jump in.

Episode 2.7 essentially threw the Q-sun model at our faces with the subtlety of a brick. Episode 2.8, meanwhile, drove the point home like a knife with Q’s dying star monologue.

Well, friends, episode 2.9 looked at them both and went, “hold my glass of Chateau Picard”.

The dark before the dawn

I predicted that this episode would be the despair event horizon, and in a way it was. But I was a tad pessimistic, as it turns out. This is Star Trek, after all, as @celestialwarzone often reminds me: a utopia.

So, overall everything went badly, but it could have been so much worse.

Regardless, this episode functions essentially as team Picard’s dark night of the soul.

Literally.

The sun goes out, the storm rises, and everything falls apart. They are separated, outnumbered, outgunned and trapped like rats in the dark chateau. Though they are fighting hard for their lives, and the future, all hope seems lost. The night is winning.

And then the sun rises.

Right away, their luck starts to turn: Agnes wakes up and forges a new destiny for the Borg, but not before healing Seven, Picard finally faces his mother’s true fate, Rios manages to beam back just in tie to save them...

The light symbolism in this episode, I swear!

Incidentally, there are plenty of other darkness and light references scattered throughout the episode:

The green lasers of the soldiers;

“Wars have been fought on lovely days”;

Picard, having a flashback from a flash of light;

"Why don’t we continue somewhere less bright", right before the game takes a turn for the worse;

The darkness of the chateau and dungeon;

"You're my light Jean-Luc”;

Picard and Estonia lighting a torch in the dungeon;

Baby!Picard stepping into a light patch;

Elnor coming back as a hologram to save them;

The red light when the key flies out;

Maman killing herself at night;

The gentle sunrise bathing Seven as she accepts herself;

Agnes literally flying into the same sunrise;

And others I’m most likely forgetting right now.

Oh, and, by the way: Maman’s fairy tale winter garden? Is actually a solarium.

A literal place of sunlight. And the exit from the dungeon.

(*pterodactyl screeches*)

The star gazer

Once Maman’s dark episode starts, she drags Baby!Picard down with her into the dungeon, where the sunlight cannot reach them.

Baby!Picard just wants them to go back up, and study the stars together, but Maman is already too far gone,

"Stars... Did you know that space is so vast, so infinite, it takes billions of years for that tiny pinprick of light to make that lonely journey from its star to our eyes?"

So. This... this is Q. A lonely star, whose light and love took billions of years to reach Picard across time and space.

Picard, who’s been living in the stars his entire adult life, looking up at them as a child and starting his career as a captain on a ship called the USS Stargazer.

Picard, the literal star gazer.

Let’s make a detour back to 2.1 for a second. When Picard blows up the new Stargazer, there’s a bright flash of white light, and then a shot of a starry sky which eventually resolves into...

... Picard’s eye.

Yeah. There are no coincidences here. The subtext is almost text at this point.

A lonely star

Maman continues her desperately sad speech,

“The brilliance you see in the night sky, Jean-Luc, that exquisite light, it’s just an echo, really...”

... like me.”

Oh, but it gets worse. Infinitely worse. Exquisitely worse:

"When you remember me, promise me you'll ignore the coldness of a dying star, and remember instead her light and the infinite love she so very much had for you."

Make no mistake, this is Q. We’re not even mirroring here, we’re channeling.

The coldness of a dying star? Q, the sun, disappearing into nothing, colder and harder than we have ever seen him... Begging Picard to instead remember the warm, infinite love he holds for him.

Q, like Maman, is going to die. He has essentially doomed himself for Picard. But where Maman killed herself in spite of her love for Jean-Luc, Q is killing himself out of love for him.

It makes all the difference in the world, but I fear it may be a very cold consolation for Jean-Luc.

(I’m speechless honestly. This episode is killing me. If you need me, I’ll be huddled in the corner. Sobbing.)

The Q-bayashi Maru

I had planned to include this section as part of my retrospective on 2.1, but considering all the foreshadowing, we might as well get it over with.

So, remember how @celestialwarzone and I theorize that Picard will likely have to make a terrible choice: save the timeline and kill Q, or save Q and kill the timeline?

In other words, a no-win scenario. Remind you of anything?

That’s right, the Kobayashi Maru.

If you’ve been living under a rock, here’s the basic outline of the test: a civilian ship, the Kobayashi Maru, is in danger. The cadet can attempt to rescue them, or leave them to die. But the test is rigged, and they’ll die regardless.

(Say, friends, did you know that Starfleet’s most infamous training exercise was first depicted in Wrath of Khan?

The movie in which Spock dies, sacrificing himself for Kirk and the crew?

The movie which was then followed by Search for Spock? In which Kirk and his crew mutiny, steal a ship and go save Spock?

Well, did you?)

Anyway, I’ve long thought that this impossible choice would be a direct call back to the Kobayashi Maru every Starfleet captain has to face as a cadet.

And would you look at this scene from episode 2.1:

(Oh, you are, Jean-Luc. You certainly are. And mark my words, you’ll rue the day you ever even thought about it.)

Anyway, if the above wasn’t clear enough, at the end of episode 2.9 Picard tells us outright,

"I refuse to accept an outcome that has not yet occured."

Sounds like "I don't believe in the no-win scenario" to me, but what do I know. I just write metas and screech incoherently into the void.

Don’t leave me behind

There’s more Q-bayashi Maru foreshadowing scattered throughout the episode, but one moment stands out in particular, and no surprise, it’s a Trios scene.

As we established in 2.8, Teresa and Rios are Qcard mirrors. This trend absolutely continues in 2.9, and it’s beautiful.

(Also excruciating. But mostly beautiful.)

As the Borg board the ship, Q-Rios regrets putting Teresa-Picard in danger:

(Oh look, another AGT reference. I’ve lost count by now.)

They escape to the chateau, and Rios is wounded. Picard orders him to go with Teresa, then prevents him from coming back, for his own safety.

So. We have a wounded Q-Rios, locked out and powerless, unable to help Picard. And things abruptly go from bad to worse.

(Need I remind you that the sun is out, and they’re all in darkness? We’ll come back to that.)

Teresa takes care of Rios (take note Picard!), and objects strongly when he decides to go back, dropping this little gem of a line,

”I’d like to rewire your brain.”

Fair enough, Teresa-Picard, fair enough. Lord knows Q has been doing it to Picard all season, so. His turn.

Teresa-Picard then drops another bit of Q-bayashi Maru foreshadowing:

"Knowing that win or lose, I'll have to let them go."

Ostensibly, she’s talking about the tricorder here, but that’s not at all what she means. She’s talking about her miracle: Q-Rios. She doesn’t want to lose him. But she has no choice in the matter.

And still the countdown climbs up, as implacable as fate in a greek tragedy.

Teresa is getting desperate,

“What if I don't want you to go? What if I want to see your face again, or something crazy like that?“

And Q-Rios tells her the truth: he’s thought about it, and he wants nothing more than to stay. But there’s no other way,

"This isn't my timeline. The future is yours (...). I'm just trying to protect it."

If you’ve read my time meta, you know that I speculate that Q may not be able to join the new timeline at all. So that’s not ominous or anything...

Regardless, Teresa-Picard isn’t convinced. She doesn’t believe in no-win scenarios either:

"What if your future is here and it was always supposed to be?"

What she’s really saying, of course, is: what if your future is with me?

And then Rios kisses her.

(Damned if I can’t picture Picard saying the exact same thing, and Q silencing him with a kiss, hating what’s coming but knowing he can’t change it.)

Q-Rios almost manages to tell her that he loves her, but is interrupted again as the transporter activates, and he disappears in front of her eyes.

He reappears right where he’s needed, placing himself squarely between Picard and danger -- nearly getting killed for his troubles.

How delightfully Q-like of him.

The search for Q

Speaking of which...

If you’re at all familiar with my posts, you know that @celestialwarzone and I have long thought that season 2 may end with Q’s death, leading us into a Search of Spock scenario in season 3.

(We’re entering galaxy brain territory, folks. Hold on to your seats.)

The wound

His mother’s death is Jean-Luc’s original trauma, a trauma he can’t get over,

"This moment I am so powerless to reverse."

Leaving aside the guilt of a parentified child unable to save their sick parent, loving and losing his mother in such a tragic fashion nearly broke Jean-Luc.

Another loss of this magnitude would have destroyed him completely. And so he protected himself, walled off his mechnical heart from love. To survive.

As Estonia points out,

“Love can be a source of great grief and immense pain. Of tremendous guilt.”

No wonder he’s been running from Q’s love.

But fear hasn’t held back Q. And however much love may hurt us, shackle us...

“... it's a gift."

For all these years, Q’s love has been a gift to Jean-Luc, whether he was able to accept it or not.

And for a very long time, he wasn’t. But now, as Jean-Luc embraces his feelings once more, he may well find himself opening up and facing another such soul-destroying moment when Q dies.

Because if Q and Maman are mirrors -- the show certainly seems insistent about it -- then their fates are likely to be similar to a degree: both of them lonely suns, both of them loving Jean-Luc infinitely...

Both of them eventually killing themselves.

And so Picard has kept himself away from Q, not letting himself know him, because to know him would be to love him.

And therefore to lose him.

The prince wins

When Baby!Picard wins the game of hide-and-seek, finding his mother sitting despondently in the dark, she says:

Just like in Maman’s story, the prince wins the game, and the Sorcerer dies. Picard will figure out the escape and save the timeline, but in all likelihood, it will be at the cost of Q’s life.

This time is different

(Jean-Luc’s subconscious is certainly worried about the idea, and who can blame him?)

So, is Jean-Luc doomed to love again, and have his heart broken a second time? Maybe. But only temporarily.

Ultimately, Q is not Maman. And her fate need not be his.

Jean-Luc isn’t a child anymore, powerless and small: he is an adult, a Starfleet admiral, tempered by time and loss.

He could not prevent his mother’s death, but he will undo Q’s dark fate,

“In those moments, tragic endings might rewind into joyful beginnings. Moments of loss into those of gains."

From death will come rebirth, from despair happiness, and from loss...

Love.

After closing such a terrible chapter of his life, Jean-Luc will be able to move on, freed, and take his first steps toward his true final frontier: ascension.

Exploring and travelling the stars, with Q at his side, for...

(It would be the perfect ending for both Jean-Luc and Q, now, wouldn’t it?)

Next, on Porg the space penguin:

So, one post down, one to go (or perhaps two). Next up:

All hail Queen Agnes

Integrating the self

More Raffi and Picard mirroring

New time shenanigans?

And maybe more...

As always, I hope you enjoyed, and I want to thank you for reading. ❤️

#star trek #star trek spoilers #qcard #star trek picard #star trek picard spoilers #star trek theories #star trek speculation #star trek: picard #star trek picard season 2 #season 2 episode 9 #porg has qcard thoughts #q of the continuum #star trek q #jean luc picard #tw: suicide

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southslates · 3 years

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something wicked this way comes

@grishaversebigbang - it’s been so awesome bringing this six of crows harry potter inspired AU to life!

materialki: @violetfolgi, @spirilium [here], @forgetyourtroubleshappyday, @margot-arts [here], @art-by-me19, @purns-art

summary: Kaz and Inej meet as Hogwarts first years and become fast acquaintances and allies and then something more. A story about falling in love. Slytherin house isn't ready for these two.

ao3 link

prologue (the hogwarts express, year one!) below the cut!:

Inej was always early. She’d slipped into the first open compartment she’d found in the Hogwarts Express, cosying up to the window. She couldn’t stop anyone else from joining her— by the time the late stragglers arrived at the train, she’d probably have to share the room with someone else.

She sighed at that thought, but decided to sit in silence and stare out the window in solitude for as long as she could. Inej could see the entirety of platform 9¾ from where she was. Her own parents had dropped her off almost half an hour ago, and hadn’t been able to stay. She didn’t blame them; she understood the timeliness required of their profession, and they’d cried over her enough before they left.

With a quick crack of static, the speaker above her head started to blare. “The train will be leaving in ten minutes,” it said. “We will not stay back for stragglers.”

It was the families of the first years who seemed to be holding up the platform, but Inej saw them slowly start towards the train too. The corridor outside her closed door started up a racket, and she winced. She just wasn’t a fan of loud noise, or of too many people.

“Ay, you think this one’s free?” she heard, and then the door to her compartment was pushed open. She expected to see a few loud-mouthed fourth years, perhaps even a sixth or seventh year who would force her to leave her blissfully open cabin and walk into the unknown. Instead, she turned her slight head to see a boy who couldn’t be more than a year older than her.

“It’s full,” he said behind him. His voice was a bit raspy but still pre-pubescent, nothing like anything Inej had heard before.

“Damn it.” Noise dissipated from the corridor, and Inej looked away from the strange boy, tugging her luggage closer to her and staring out the window once more. The platform was empty of children, full of crying parents; almost. She could make out a few stragglers just now coming through the pillar which marked the platform as an in-between.

“Five minutes,” the speaker rang.

Inej heard the compartment door slide shut. When she looked to the left again, she saw the boy seated across from her, glaring forward at nothing. She didn’t know what to say to him, so she said nothing, just pulled herself up onto her knees on the seat. A minute or two passed, and the silence switched from slightly uncomfortable to something fitting. Inej was a bit grateful. If she had to sit with someone, at least it wasn’t someone who wanted to make her uncomfortable.

As the platform grew stagnant, she turned the slightest bit to face the boy, letting her hair fall in front of her face. He was staring straight ahead at the empty seat in front of her, his dark hair falling into his coffee-colored eyes, his mouth in a thin line. He had the chubby cheeks of childhood, the ones she shared, but they looked almost hollow— perhaps they’d look sharp when he grew older. He was wearing a set of wizarding robes, one meant for children— Inej was too, but his were tailored well, and made of a silky fabric she couldn’t name.

There was a plain black bag at his side that was deceivingly simple; it was made out of a shiny material, too, and rather clean. Inej wondered if he was a member of one of the ancient wizarding families— that seemed likely, though she couldn’t be sure. She scrunched her eyes together and thought she could make out something stitched into the bag’s handle. K. Rotvold?

“You’re staring,” the boy said, and Inej looked up. She didn’t know how long he’d been watching her trace him. She didn’t say anything. “Who are you?”

“Inej Ghafa,” she whispered after a moment. Her name wouldn’t mean much to anyone— it was her father’s, and it was her mother who was the family wizard. Her father was a muggle; the descendant of squibs, but a muggle nonetheless.

He nodded and then stared at her, his eyebrows drawn, as though he was doing calculations on her face. He said nothing, so Inej was forced to ask. “And you?”

“Kaz. Kaz Brekker,” he said curtly, his voice rough, like salt. Perhaps that was just puberty. It was an odd sound.

Inej was sure the name on his bag was not Brekker, but she didn’t want to bring that up. She and Kaz met eyes and then both quickly nodded their heads at each other. Then she turned her face back to the window.

Their quiet existence was interrupted not even a moment later. “The Hogwarts Express is now leaving,” said the announcer. At that moment something suddenly pressed against the compartment door and a girl burst through it, tugging a boy behind her.

She was tall, far taller than Kaz and Inej and even the boy behind her, and breathing heavily, but smiling. “Told you we’d make it, Jesper!”

The dark-skinned boy, Jesper, let go of her hand and ran it through his hair. “I don’t even know you.”

“We’re friends now,” she turned to him and closed the door behind them just as the train set off, slowly starting to speed out. In a split-second, Kaz scooted down to sit right across from Inej as Jesper fell into the seat next to him and the girl sat down next to Inej. They both clutched their bags tightly to each other.

Inej internally groaned at the intrusion, and when she looked up Kaz was making eye contact with her. His face was stalwart, but she almost felt as though he would be rolling his eyes if he was capable of it. This boy was already an enigma to her.

“Hi!” the girl on her side said, green eyes shining, bag clutched to her chest. Inej turned to her and gave her a small smile, putting her feet back onto the ground. “I’m Nina! I’m a first year.”

“Hello,” Inej intonated.

“I’m Jesper, and I’m a first year too,” the boy across from Nina smiled. Then the four of them fell into an awkward silence.

“I’m Inej,” Inej said. “And this is Kaz. We’re both first years.” At least, she assumed Kaz was.

“Nice to meet you!” Nina said, bending forward to Kaz, as though to shake his hand. He leaned back into his seat and glared at her. “Wow. No need to be like that.”

“Sorry for bursting into your compartment,” Jesper said. “We didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“You weren’t—” Inej blushed. “Nothing, there’s no problem.”

“Great!” Nina said. “I’m so excited to get to Hogwarts. I’ve been practicing magic for a bit but going to the school will be so cool. I want to be a—”

“How’ve you been practicing magic?” Kaz asked, suddenly sitting up.

“I’m—” she almost blushed. “I’m part veela, actually, and I was mostly raised at the Little Palace. You must have heard of it—”

“I have,” Kaz interrupted again. “Veela,” he murmurs, almost as if to himself. “You must know your way around a wand.”

“We work more with specific types of magic,” Nina said. “I specialized in blood magic, mostly for healing. But I’m not very good at it— hopefully it’ll be better with a wand.”

“You’re a heartrender,” Kaz said, seeming a bit taken aback. Nina scrunched her brows.

“You know about the orders? Are you—”

“I like reading,” he said simply.

Nina nodded slowly and leaned back. “What house do you want to get sorted into?” she asked.

Jesper spoke first. “I’m not sure. Don’t really think I’m meant for Slytherin or Ravenclaw, though.”

“How did you two run into each other?” Inej asked quietly.

Jesper started laughing. “We were both running late outside the station and came in together.”

“Are you also grisha?” Kaz asked suddenly.

Jesper seemed a bit shocked, but quickly shook his head. “Nopes,” he popped. He nodded to Inej. “What house do you think you’ll get sorted into?”

“I don’t know,” Inej shook her head, letting more of her hair fall into her face. “I don’t really know much about Hogwarts. I wasn’t supposed to come here.”

“Oh,” Jesper said, then leaned in to look at her. “Were you supposed to go to Karmana?”

“Sort of,” Inej said. “My family travels a lot. We were in England when the letters came, so I got sent here.”

“Cool!” Jesper said. “Well, I’m glad we got to meet you. Now we can all be friends.”

“Excuse me?” Kaz said. Jesper turned to him with a bright grin, refusing to falter as he was met with a stalwart glare. Nobody replied to him; Nina asked Inej if she’d bought her robes, and from where, and if she was looking forward to sharing a dorm.

Nina was loud and boisterous, and Jesper was funny and constantly in motion, and Kaz was quiet and mean— he’d taken to glaring at Jesper as the boy tried to talk to him about brooms. They were a strange group, the four of them, but even Kaz didn’t grumble as they sat, together, in the boats that would take them to see their first real glimpse of the castle.

#something wicked this way comes #kanej #kanej fic #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #shadow and bone #soc fic #gvbb21 #gvbbfic41 #dee writes

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savannahsdrabbles · 3 years

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Ocean Song - Part 10/11

Rating: PG

notes: 2.9k words. A03 link can be found here. I can’t believe I’m almost done with this fic! <3 Big thanks again to my beta-readers, @starfiretheninja and @rusty-wayfarer.

ALSO! I posted character references of the boys here, and @bakedbananners over on Twitter drew them! <33 I may or may not have cried. <3 OK! Now on with the fic! :D

***

“Ay-puh-ril, nicetumeetchu Dawn-ee, Cay-see. I Don-ee, Cay-see, Ahpril nicetumeetchu,” the turtle hummed softly under his breath, still rolling the words over and over in his mouth. He squinted, brown eyes straining to focus in the dim light as he used a claw to trace abstract patterns in the dirt. It had been at least thirty minutes since Casey’s departure, and with their main light source being the soft glow from April’s phone, the two unlikely comrades had settled into a quiet reverie beneath the pine trees. “Don Dun Dunntello Don Dondon Dawn-ee… April?”

“Yes, Donnie?” April glanced down at her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, her teeth working impatiently on her already cracked and sore lower lip. When the screen only blinked back a warning of low battery, she tucked the device into her pocket and drew her knees to her chest. It was getting chilly out – hopefully Casey was doing okay without his hoodie.

“Cay-see go?”

“Mh-hm. Remember? Casey went to rent a boat, and then you’re going to guide us so that we can take you home.” She cast her eyes sideways, watching as Donnie furrowed his brow and bobbed his head to show he was listening. “Right now we’re just waiting until he texts and says that the boat is ready.”

“Tehks?”

“Yup,” April tapped the phone-shaped outlined in her pocket, then bit her lip and mumbled a silent prayer that he didn’t ask for a further explanation of technology and digital communication – she’d had a difficult enough time explaining that to her grandparents. “Until then, we’ve just got to wait here.”

The turtle tilted his head and squinted at her pocket for a long moment, his expression clearly saying that he had more questions, but finally nodded and turned back to his doodles. “Bōto o matsu.”

April blinked.

Bōto o… wait for boat? Okay, so not only had he understood, but he understood enough to respond in another language. Cool, cool, okay.

She brought a hand to the bridge of her nose and squeezed, trying to ignore the migraine that had been building behind her eyes over the past few hours. How in the …? She knew he’d used a few Japanese phrases when they had first spoken in the lab, and logically she knew that living in Japan that would be the language he was most exposed to – but in the same vein, none of this made any logical sense. What kind of person could imagine a multilingual, anthropomorphic mutant turtle, accept that as fact, and then continue about their day?

Before her brain could wander any farther down that trail of thought– what next? Aliens? Superheroes? - April felt her phone buzz and heaved a grateful sigh of relief. “That should be Casey – time to get moving!”

The turtle perked up, his head swiveling like a periscope to search the surrounding shadows. “Where-?”

His question was cut off as April surged to her feet, her hands carefully grasping and guiding him upwards alongside her. The turtle yelped in surprise and grabbed for handfuls of her top once upright, wobbling slightly as he tried to balance himself.

“Here – Casey’s hoodie is going to help keep you covered, okay?” April reached down to grab the jacket from the ground, bundled it up in her hands and then gestured for the turtle to raise his arms. He did so reluctantly, then yelped once more as she quickly pulled the material over his head and began to guide his arms through the fabric. “There likely won’t be too many people out at the marina on a school night, but we want to make sure we don’t draw any extra attention – plus there’s plenty of security cameras out there and it’ll be impossible to completely avoid those.”

“Mmmf!” Was Donnie’s only response, his arms starting to pinwheel frantically before April caught hold of them. A stretch of the hoodie’s neckline had gotten caught on the turtle’s snout, partially obscuring his eyes and totally covering his mouth. April adjusted the fabric with a chuckle, freeing the creature from his polyester prison, and then took a step back to examine her work.

Even compared to her relatively average five and a half feet, Donatello was short – if she had to guess, he probably wasn’t any taller than four foot ten. Considering that the hoodie he now wore was made to fit Casey’s nearly six foot self, it was hard not to see the turtle as a toddler playing dress up in his parents’ clothing. The way that the fabric hung and draped over his body made him look even smaller, if that were possible; should he sit down, he might get lost amongst the apparel. Were it not for the glinting metal collar around his neck and the look of growing discomfort on his face, April would have thought he looked ready to curl up in bed.

“Hmmm,” Donnie hummed pensively, clearly not feeling the comfort that April was perceiving. The turtle gave his fabric-obscured hands a hard shake, eyes wide and increasingly nervous noises emanating from his mouth as he rapidly rotated his limbs in search of his missing appendages.

April giggled and started to step forward to help him roll up the sleeves, but then held back when a quiet voice in her mind chided. Let’s see if he can figure this out.

Donnie glanced up with a piteous whine, looking as if he had her thoughts and realized she wasn’t coming to his rescue, then hesitated. April could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he stared at her rolled sleeves and free hands, then turned back to his own predicament. After a brief moment of thought and one more comparative look, the turtle raised an arm to his mouth and bit down on the sleeve, then gently tugged until his hand slowly slipped free.

“Hoo-dee!” he chirped triumphantly, holding up his free hand and waving it in delight.

“Right, you’re wearing a hoodie!” April grinned, then reached around the turtle to guide the hood over the back of his head. He didn’t seem to mind now, attention already turning back to the process of freeing his second hand. “We’d better keep the hood up for now, but look at us! Just two normal teens on the beach!”

The turtle’s eyes lit up at her last word. He dropped his sleeve in surprise, then turned to point a claw in the direction Casey had disappeared. “Beach!”

“Yup! Now let’s get you home!”

***

Donnie’s heart pounded as he stumbled along behind April, her warm hand holding him steady as the ground beneath them slowly transitioned from poky greens to the tan, shifting sands he knew so well. He’d been able to hear the ocean for a while now, but the moment they pushed through the last bushes and stepped out onto the beach - suddenly everything felt real. The cool, moist air, the promise of water and food and Home and his family – he was so close!

With every step towards the illuminated Human structures in the distance, he felt the urge building in his system – the desire to break loose from April’s gentle guidance and take off running towards the ocean. A familiar tugging sensation pulled incessantly at the back of his mind, calling out in the voices of Father and his brothers.

“This way, Clever, this way! Almost there! Almost Home!”

Their voices were like a siren’s song, beckoning him closer and closer with promises of healing and reassurances that he would soon be safe in their arms.

A breathless half-sob caught in his throat, and he swallowed thickly before trilling in response, his voice echoing out across the beach. “Wait for me; I’m coming! I’ll be Home soon!”

No sooner had the call left his mouth when April shook his hand gently, calling his attention back to the situation before them. He sighed and slowly drug his eyes away from the shore. As much as he wanted to release April’s hand and take off running… something told him that he needed to wait and stay with the two Humans. They had gotten him this far, and if the danger was imminent enough that he and Brothers were going to have to relocate…

“It looks like there’s a few people out on the marina, but I think we’re good,” April spoke in a low voice as she gestured towards the fast-approaching structures with her free hand. Two rows of buildings stood tall amongst the rolling dunes, serving as a departure from the otherwise untouched beach. Sand made way for a long wooden platform that served as the buildings’ foundations and stretched almost a mile out into the ocean. “My dad brought me down to the pier a few times when we first moved to Osaka - it’s pretty fun during the daytime. There’s a few shops and restaurants out on the board walk, and during the summer they host a carnival.”

Donnie nodded absently, his focus already drifting back out across the ocean. “Casey?”

“We’re almost to him. His text said that he was under the –”

A long, shrill whistle suddenly cut through the air, followed by a loud ‘YO!’ that snapped Donnie back to attention. He startled slightly, the sharp movement shaking the hood from his head and sending it sliding down his shoulders.

April heaved a sigh.

“And that would be the Master of Subtlety himself.” Even without looking, Donnie could imagine the way that the girl’s eyes were rolling and her shoulders slouching. He’d seen that exasperated look – and worn it – whenever his brothers did something foolish. With a sigh and a tug on his hand, April headed towards a shadow-y area tucked under the edge of the pier. “Come on.”

The turtle nodded obediently, his pace quickening and heart fluttering they moved closer towards the shoreline.

***

“You know, the point of texting was supposed to be that we kept quiet,” April called out as they approached the pier. She squinted, searching the shadows until they slowly began to give way to separate, more distinct shapes. “You could have at least waited until we got closer before you let the whole beach know where you were.”

“I wanted to make sure that you guys found me,” Casey replied, his voice already sounding smug– clearly a sign that he was up to something. There was a soft grunt as he pushed against one of the pier’s support beams, and then he and the boat slid out of the shadows.

April opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed her eyes. The headache from earlier was returning. “Casey – what in the world is that?”

“Oh, you mean this beauty?” the teenage boy patted the side of the boat, an impish grin on his face, and then threw out his arms as the tiny, rust-ridden vehicle slowly began to tip towards the right. He flailed wildly for a moment, water splashing as the boat continued to rock from side to side, then finally froze with arms outstretched in a T-pose. “Er – she’ll be much more steady once you guys get in and help distribute the weight.”

“Mh-hm.” April cocked an eyebrow. “I can deal with unsteady; I’m more concerned about getting tetanus, or that thing sinking the second I put one foot in.”

“Yeah, well apparently it’s pretty expensive to rent a nice boat to go ‘somewhere in the ocean’ and come back ‘at some point’,” Casey stuck his tongue out, but kept his arms outstretched. “The shop owner guy looked like he wanted to kick me out more than anything, but I managed to make a deal with him. Apparently they were planning to send this boat to the scrap yard tomorrow morning, so the Jonesman – that’s me - offered to take it off of their hands and save them a trip.” Casey moved to fold his arms across his chest, but then threw them out once more as the boat rolled beneath him. “I was – oh boy, one sec – thinking of naming it the O’Neilmobile, but with that attitude I just might have to reconsider.”

“How will I ever deal with such a loss?”

“I guess Jonesmobile: The Squeakquel will have to do.”

“Casey.”

“It’s Captain Casey now.”

“I’m not calling you that– do you think that thing will stay afloat with all of us? Maybe we should rethink our plans –”

Suddenly and without warning, Donatello dropped April’s hand and surged forward.

“Don-?”

The turtle stumbled heavily as he cleared last few feet of sand, clearly too frantic to think out his steps, but the moment his claws touched foam something seemed to click inside.

“Water – look! Water-water-home!” Breathless words and excited sounds spilled from his lips like a pot bubbling over, coming quick and fast and soon dissolving into a symphony of hums and noises that April could only think to call laughter. He tipped his head back, eyes closed and body shaking with the sounds as he kicked and frolicked through the surf, sending salt water splashing in every direction. “Beach-water-Family-water-water-Home!”

April cast a nervous glance over her shoulder, half afraid that his mirth would attract unwanted attention, but Casey waved the thought off.

“Just… give him a minute,” he smiled, eyes following the turtle as he danced amongst the waves. “I think he needs this.”

April hesitated, but she couldn’t help the smile growing on her face, nor the relieved laugh she gave as Donnie turned towards to them. He grinned widely, eyes shimmering, and then flopped backwards into the water.

“Look! Look water!” His chest heaved as he laughed breathlessly. “Water!”

“I’m happy for you, Bud,” Casey said, nudging the edge of the pier once more so that the boat drifted closer. “We’re so close to getting you home.”

The turtle nodded and laughed again, then pushed himself up into a sitting position. Rivulets of water ran down either side of his face, congregating under his chin and then dripping down to the already soaked hoodie that now hung heavily from his shoulders. He gave a slight shake of his head, sending droplets skittering across the water’s surface, and then lifted a hand to pat his chest. “Donnie.”

Casey cocked his head, eyes sliding to April. “Donnie?”

“It’s short for Donatello,” she smiled and held out her hand towards the turtle. He stood and took it gratefully, eyes gleaming with renewed energy and more life than ever before. With a little tug, she drew him alongside her and stepped closer to the boat. “He needed a special name.”

“Kind of a hard name for someone just learning English,” Casey leaned down to grab a few items from the bottom of the boat and then shifted backwards to give them more room. “I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘Bill’ or ‘Casey Junior’.”

“Pfft - as if,” April held the edge of the boat steady as Donnie scrambled over the side, then plopped himself by Casey’s feet. When the boat didn’t immediately capsize under the weight of a second passenger, she pulled herself in and settled on the bench seat opposite Casey. Now that she was actually in the boat, tucked beside the two guys she was on this adventure with… it suddenly didn’t seem so cruddy. No, this boat was just right for what they needed. “Hey – did you get life vests?”

Casey turned to face the motor and straddled his seat, the movement causing the boat to rock dangerously. “Naw, we’ll be in the boat the whole time, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. Plus you and Donnie can swim.”

“Wait – can you not?”

“And off we go!”

The engine took a moment to roll over as Casey tugged on the pull cord, but eventually started with a loud roar that sent Donnie scrambling for safety against April’s legs. She reached down and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and then they were off! The little boat began to power forward at a steady speed – not as fast as she would have liked, but enough so that April’s hair began to tangle around her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, spitting a strand out of her mouth and suddenly wishing that she’d brought a hair tie.

“Here – take this!” Casey called over the sound of the engine. April opened one eye, then grinned when she saw what Casey offering. “Coach said I’m only allowed to keep my hair long if I pull it back during practice, so I always have extra rubber bands on hand!”

“Thanks!” April took the present gratefully and quickly pulled her hair back into a tight bun. Now that that problem was solved… “By the way – did you end up grabbing food like you mentioned?”

The boy’s eyes lit up, and he bent down to grab the objects he’d moved to make room for Donnie. “Oh, yeah! I hit up the McDonald’s on the board walk right before I went to the boat place. I asked the cashier what she suggested for my ‘pet turtle’ and she said suggested a head of lettuce. They were out of that at the moment though, so…” He passed a brown paper sack to April, and then extended a small box to the turtle. “Donnie, can you say ‘chicken nuggets?’”

“Chih nuddets.”

#savannah drabbles #sea turtles au #tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt fanfiction #april o'neil #casey jones #tmnt donnie

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eremiss · 4 years

Text

12: Tooth and Nail

(light cw: descriptions of post-fight injuries and being poisoned/drugged. Takes place during Post-HVW MSQ “Consequences”)

Ten minutes, Thancred had said. Ten minutes for Gwen to try and wait out the lingering symptoms of the poison she’d been dosed with, make sure Falcon’s Nest wouldn’t fall apart in their absence, and try to find Honoroit --”If you truly must.”-- then they were heading back to Ishgard to deliver the news of the disastrous Conference. His tone had brooked no room for argument.

She took extra care to mind the time, as being late would likely have Thancred assuming the worst. They’d already had quite enough excitement for one day and she had no desire to add to it, plus his mood was already poor enough.

Ten fruitless minutes later Gwen trudges up the ramp to the landing platform, shoulders hunched and spirits low. The garrison’s morale is understandably poor and there’s naught to be done about it, though it seems her departure isn’t cause for it to deteriorate further. There was no sign of Honoroit anywhere, and the people she’d spoken with hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him.

Her stomach rolls and twists, a weak, nauseous ache permeating her limbs that shivers up her throat whenever she moves too quickly. She’d retched up the tainted wine the moment she was able, but it had plainly been in her system long enough for its effects to linger.

If I knew what was in it, I could maybe try and counteract it somehow… But she doesn’t, and the woman who does is likely dead.

The landing platform is deserted and quiet, the chocobo stables practically empty compared to when she’d arrived. Apparently she’s the one that has to wait for Thancred for a change.

Whoever is supposed to be on watch has abandoned their duty for the moment, and no one around to see her wander past the gates. The wind is faster and sharper without buildings or mountains to block it, cutting through her outer layers and straight down to her bones. She shivers harshly and crosses her arms tightly across her chest as her bangs whip her face and her ears burn themselves numb, missing the sweltering heat of the barracks. At least the sharp chill doesn’t make her feel ill.

Gwen sweeps her eyes across the empty platform, wondering where Honoroit could have gone, and what he might’ve been thinking. There’s no way he just up and abandoned Emmanellain, surely? He’s stuck to his master’s side like glue through everything until now. He couldn’t possibly…

There’s a lump on the far side of the platform. A small figure with brown hair dressed in familiar blue and white garb. It looks sort of like--

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Honoroit?”

He twitches and raises his head, peering blankly at her as she rushes over to him. “M-Miss Ashe?” he croaks, confused.

“Hush, hush, don’t talk,” she chides gently, panic and worry tightening like vices around in her chest as she kneels to inspect his wounds.

Bruises are splattered across every ilm of bare skin, and his clothes are torn and dirtied with patterns that distinctly resemble boot prints. His face is mostly black and blue with a nasty cut over his brow and on his lips, one of his eyes swollen nearly shut.

Honoroit tries to sit up, slow and careful as he shifts his weight and favors his right side. He only makes it halfway before he grimaces and sinks back to the ground with a pained sound.

A fresh surge of concern mutes the dismayed, impotent static buzzing through her thoughts. Questions and anger can wait. She lays a light, comforting hand on his arm and hopes she isn’t touching a sore spot. “Be still, Honoroit...”

He needs to get somewhere warm, first of all, as his lips are distressingly blue. Ideally that will be somewhere with a healer, as her initial assessment of his injuries isn’t good. Even natives of Ishgard aren’t immune to the cold, and she has no idea how long he’s been out here lying on frozen stone. But how to move him without worsening his injuries....

“Honoroit!!” Emmanellain’s distraught voice cries from behind her.

She lifts her head as two sets of footsteps rapidly approach, the nobleman making panicked sounds every step of the way with Thancred, expression grim, just behind him.

When Emmanellain is finally able to see the extent of Honoroit’s injuries his face twists with horror and he drops to his knees by Gwen’s side. “No, no! What have they done to you!?”

He reaches towards Honoroit, and Gwen puts an arm in his way. He whirls on her, his stricken glare demanding an explanation.

She tries to appear calmer than she feels and makes a mollifying gesture, shaking her head. You shouldn’t move him.

A wash of different emotions twist Emmanellains face one way and then another, and he looks like he has half a mind to shout at her. Instead he makes an aggravated, high-pitched whining sound and slaps his hands down on the stone ground.

“Is that you, my lord?” Honoroit offers a feeble smile and struggles for a light tone, as if making a jest, “You... you seem rather flustered.”

“Because of you, you imbecile!” Emmanellain exclaims, “What in the seven hells happened to you!?”

“My… my apologies… Some few of the guests expressed a wish to leave...and I implored them to stay.” He makes a weak imitation of a laugh, “It would seem they took issue with my request.”

Rings would explain the small cuts and abrasions in the bruises on his face...

Gwen’s stomach lurches in a way that has nothing to do with the poison she’d been dosed with. All of her worried thoughts take on a frazzled, angry edge that wears at her already thinned nerves. A twinge in her clenched jaw and a telltale ache shooting from her teeth to her temples signal that she successfully kicked off a headache.

“Gods forgive me…” Emmanellain groans, burying his face in his hands. “If I had only been more careful with my words!”

“Do not blame yourself my lord,” the younger elezen insists. “I know… I know that you and your brother have Ishgard’s best interests at heart. That poor woman… She lives in the past, clinging to memories of the lost.”

He’s admirably composed considering everything that’s happened, even accounting for the fact he’s generally more mature and levelheaded than his master. Empathy for the dissidents and protesters has only made his conviction for Aymeric’s cause that much stronger.

“But the future holds so much promise. So much joy. And you…” His voice wavers and Gwen tenses, her heart skipping a beat. “You... know that better than any…” His words fade to nothing and his eyes slip closed. Then his head lolls to his chest.

Gwen immediately checks his pulse. It’s steady, thank the Twelve, as is his labored breathing, but his complexion has gone frighteningly pale.

“Honoroit?!” Emmanellain half rises, panicked. His mouth works uselessly for a moment before he turns his fearful eyes on Gwen, “Gwen, do something!”

Her chest constricts sharply and she freezes

Ever since the Vault she can’t...

Couldn’t, a small voice corrects. Y’shtola has been tutoring her for more than a moon, and she’s made enough progress that she’s begun regaining the ability to use healing magic. It’s feeble and terribly taxing, a far cry from the white and red magic she used to wield, but she can manage it. As she is now, weakened by that poison and with a fresh host of doubts welling up and knotting in her chest...

But Honoroit needs help. And she can help, at least minorly.

She bites her lip, voices she’ll never hear again murmuring at her in time with her heartbeat. One rings out louder than the others, gentle despite the volume.

For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.

She can’t fully mend his wounds, but she can at least ease his pain. No matter what her clinging doubts try to mutter, she knows she can do something. Not much, maybe, but not nothing, and that’s enough. It has to be. However draining it is on her, she’ll manage. She’s had worse, after all, and she can rest and recover once they’re back in Ishgard. For now... She has to at least try.

Gwen takes a steadying breath and makes a clear place in her mind before holding a hand over Honoroit’s chest. She closes her eyes and breathes, gathering her focus and recalling Y’shtola’s patient instructions, replaying the simple exercises they’d practiced for bells. When it all feels solid enough to work with, she begins to mumble an incantation.

As the spell takes shape a weak light flickers to life under her hand, drifting over Honoroit like mist. She senses bruises of all shapes and sizes, cuts, cracked bones... no internal bleeding or anything blatantly life-threatening, at least. It’s an issue of quantity, the sheer multitude of otherwise-lesser injuries amounting to something more severe.

With the injuries assessed, she shifts her intention to healing. Immediately the spell begins to pull at her in earnest, drawing out her energy and replacing it with intangible weight that begins to pile on her shoulders.

Even a layman could tell that her conjury is that of a novice, at best. But, feeble as it is, it’s still enough to slowly mend cracked bones and knit broken skin, and the cuts on his lips and brow gradually close. Hopefully he’ll be able to rest a little easier.

She knows it won’t be long before fatigue settles in, but hopefully Thancred and Duskfeather will make sure she at least gets back to Ishgard before she falls asleep on her feet. Her head is still pounding a dull rhythm, and she’s sure it will likely start to worsen soon, too. It’s fine… So long as the spell is working, it’s fine.

“He’ll live, but it’s imperative we get him inside and into the care of a chirurgeon once he’s stable,” Thancred says calmly. With any luck his steady composure will help Emmanellain pull himself together. “Gwen can only do so much.”

“Only so much?!” Emmanellain demands shrilly.

Gwen winces, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut against the kick of doubt and frustration that tries to crack her barely-solidified concentration. She screws up her mouth and works to ignore that, too.

Thancred’s tone hardens, “It’s a sight more than either of us can offer, unless you have knowledge of conjury that you’ve been keeping secret.”

Emmanellain struggles for a response, half syllables coming out one after another before he settles for an angry hiss. “Gah! We were so close! Why does it all have to fall to pieces!? Don’t they want to live in peace!? Don’t they want to be happy!? We all want the same thing, and still-- STILL it falls to pieces!”

The words buzz in her ears like stinging bugs, the volume piercing her focus. Suddenly she can feel sweat gathering on the back of her neck despite the wintry chill, and the edges of her vision are doing strange things.

“Tell me, what--what was I supposed to do, hm?!” He demands, a desperate, petulant twinge cracking his voice.

She can feel the way each throb of her head rattles the focus she’d worked so hard to gather, pain and exertion freely jostling her thoughts.

He stomps his foot furiously, “Someone, anyone, tell me: what was I supposed to do!?”

Her vision warps and her headache throbs in her teeth. The spell unravels in her thoughts and on her tongue, and she abandons the incantation with a pained groan.

It’s hard enough to heal Honoroit between her struggles with conjury, the headache, and the lingering symptoms of poison, and now Emannelain is making it all worse by yelling.

She drops her head into her hands and gulps steadying breaths, fingers icy and numb against her pounding head. Stop being dizzy, stop being dizzy... She isn’t sure if it’s her numbed fingers or a genuine fever making her skin so hot to the touch, but the sheen of sweat suggests the latter.

His voice cracks with panic when he realizes she’s stopped her healing spell. “What are you doing?! Don’t stop!”

The Banquet, the Vault, Azys Lla, the Antitower, faces she’ll never see again, and too many other godsamned things shove up up against the inside of her skull until her head feels like it’s going to split in two.

All at once her throat itches with a stifled scream, her eyes sting and her chest aches like she sprinted for malms without stopping.

She doesn’t know what she should do, what she wants to do, but her nerves are bristling, her heart is pounding, and her body is thrumming with desperate, impotent fury, and she’s so sick and tired of losing people, of failing, of being so useless-- of-- of--

A hand clamps on her shoulder and gives one firm shake.

Her thoughts upend and crash back to the earth, abruptly deflating and crumbling into splinters and shards.

“Breathe.”

She sucks in a mouthful of wintry air and chokes on the cold. After a few tries she catches her breath enough to loosen some of the knots in her chest. When did she start holding her breath...?

Gwen’s head is still a litlte woozy as she looks up. Thancred is leaning over her, his mouth set in a firm grimace and his expression woodenly calm. He twitches his head towards Honoroit, Focus. Heal him.

The tide of anger and adrenaline passes as quickly as it came, taking the dizzy spell and a modicum of her headache with it. Gwen wipes the sting out of her eyes in place of shaking her head, pushing away the briars and splinters clinging to the inside of her head. She’s no less overwhelmed than she had been a minute ago, but she’s pushed off the worst of it for the moment. That’s good enough.

Thancred releases her shoulder, straightens and turns to face Emmanellain. The nobleman is being surprisingly quiet, perhaps realizing he’d overstepped.

She counts the breaths hissing between her teeth and grasps for calm, pushing her shoulders down and trying to clear her mind. The sight of Honoroit, battered and unconcious, is sobering enough to quell the last simmering strains of irritation and get her mind back in line again.

She closes her eyes and re-gathers her focus through the haze of her headache, trying to ignore the briefly-forgotten fatigue that’s still hanging on her shoulders. Twelve but white magic is so much more taxing than it had ever been--than it should be.

Gwen rests her hand on Honoroit’s chest to center herself and stubbornly, purposefully mumbles the incantation over and over until the sounds and shapes of the words hollow out a big enough place to hold her concentration.

Emmanellain speaks, “Well? If you have something to say, say it!”

The spell takes shape again, magic trickling from her into Honoroit and flowing out to the worst injuries yet in need of attention. She can feel that the spell is weaker than before, that it’s working more slowly, but it’s still helping. That’s what matters.

Thancred’s voice is hard and flat, scolding, “Stop looking to others. You make your choice and you live with the consequences.”

There’s brief sputtering followed by a few harsh, seething breaths.

Suddenly there’s a short, hard impact. Instinct identifies the sound before her mind can: a punch.

“And what would you know about consequences!?” Emmanellain spits bitterly. “You, who always knows just what to say and just what to do! Your every deed is greeted with a round of applause!”

Gwen winces away from the words, bitterly wondering how fate’s timing could be so spectacularly terrible. There couldn’t be a worse time for such perfectly aimed words. Matoya’s cave and the Antitower are scarcely a sennight behind them. People claim fate likes to ‘jest’, and apparently its sense of humor is twisted and cruel.

All at once the air grows close and heavy, bristling with energy like the calm before a storm. Apprehension tightens across her back and she catches the inside of her cheek in her teeth, worrying thoughtlessly at it. It is much too quiet...

A much louder, harder impact rings out, more like a thunderclap than a drumbeat.

Emmanellain’s yelp of pain is abruptly cut off by the heavy, metallic thud of a chainmailed body hitting stone ground.

Thancred’s voice is low and furious, the point of a knife sinking home. “You know nothing about me. I have fought tooth and nail for the people I hold dear-- done everything in my power to save them, to protect them...and I have failed.” A beat of silence filled with a harsh breath, “Learn to live with it. I have.”

A heavy feeling settles in her stomach, apprehension morphing into worry that convinces her turn her head. She opens her eyes and peeks over her shoulder, keeping the majority of her focus on her tenuous spell.

Thancred is standing over Emmanellain with a face like a thunderstorm, fists clenched tight at his sides. Emmanellain stares silently up at him, frozen in shock.

Thancred seems unharmed, while one side of Emmanellain’s face is rapidly darkening and his jaw is hanging at a slightly awkward angle that suggests it might be broken.

Gwen has never heard Thancred so furious before. She’s never seen him snap. He spat those words like curses, like they’re a burden he’s suffered and agonized over for ages without reprieve. They speak of a kind of deep ache and near-hateful sort of guilt that Gwen is much too familiar with.

Thancred turns brusquely on his heel and storms away in silence.

Gwen avoids Emmanellain’s gaze and turns back to Honoroit.

She immediately resolves to talk to him, but not until he’s had time to cool off and settle out. She’ll do what she can for Honoroit first, then she’ll go after him.

Gwen is more than a little wobbly on her feet as she staggers back down the ramp into Falcon’s Nest. Her vision is behaving itself, but her head is throbbing, her legs are weak, and her stomach is refusing to settle down.

Though it took entirely too much effort, she still finds no small amount of satisfaction in successfully managing healing magic again. She’s improving, slowly but surely.

Casting her eyes around the open square turns up nothing, and she rubs at her heavy eyelids with a pout. She’ll have to go searching, then. But where to start? On a whim, she turns for the barracks.

She finds Thancred in an out-of-the way spot a stone’s throw from where she’d hidden earlier to purge the tainted wine from her system and wait for her grasp on conciousness to solidify. He’s leaning against the wall and radiating the air of a man better left alone, arms crossed tightly across his chest and a stony glower on his face.

He glances up as she approaches, shrewdly scrutinizing the rhythm of her steps and the way she’s carrying herself.

Concern, discomfort and reemourse coil around her chest and tie knots in her head, images of Matoya’s cave flitting past her vision. She takes a slow breath, feeling a bit like she’s readying to try more healing magic.

Mourning and grief do crazy things to people, and no one handles it the same. Gwen knows that. She withdraws, physically and mentally, growing hollow and distant and numb. She wilts and shrinks, always drained and slow as if she’s wrapped in a layer of lead that separates her from the world, trying to insulate and protect herself. She hasn’t yet mastered pulling herself out of it, but she’s always --eventually-- managed it with the help of her friends.

Thancred closes himself off and binds himself to his mistakes, as if not forgiving himself for them means he won’t make them again. He pushes others away and walls himself in with his hurt, treating it as a lesson to be learned rather than a wound to mend. It lies just beneath the surface and drives him to lash out when it grows too painful to hold, like on the landing platform, and over time it sinks into him, a weight he carries that he never speaks of or shows even as it changes him.

But...

It’s not that Gwen thinks he doesn’t have the right to his misery or grief, especially after losing someone so dear as Minfili. The events of the Antitower are barely behind them. Of course he’s still hurting and struggling with all of it.

It’s how he’s handling it--or rather, not handling it, and what it’s doing to him that she’s worried about. He’s hurting. He’s insisting on struggling alone, on holding everything in and carrying it with him, like he did after being freed from Lahabrea, and refusing to allow it to rest.

It’s too soon to really begin healing, maybe, but not so much that she can’t remind him that he isn’t alone.

Gwen stops in front of him, just out of arm's reach. Her limbs are heavy, her head is throbbing and her stomach is shifting unpleasantly, but she does her best to keep her discomfort to herself. She settles her weight on her feet and regards him with a concerned and placidly questioning look. What was that back there?

They stand in silence, simply looking at one another and waiting.

Thancred’s expression loses a smidgen of its harshness, though otherwise remains flat. Gwen loosely folds her arms against the chill, chewing the inside of her lip and worrying the sleeves of her coat between her fingers. She can wait for as long as she needs to.

Thancred shifts against the wall and sharply turns his head, putting the black wrap of cloth towards her. A dismissal, most likely. He doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want sympathy and, more than that, he doesn’t want her there. It stings, even as she corrects herself that he likely wants to be left alone to brood and doesn’t want anyone around.

Blue and purple are creeping out from beneath the edge of the cloth. The evidence of Emmanellain’s punch.

Gwen shifts her weight, numb fingers prickling as they slowly warm, her teeth sharp against the inside of her cheek. Then she takes one slow, somewhat cautious step forward.

Thancred tenses but doesn’t move, clinging to the hope she’ll go away if he ignores her long enough.

She takes another step and comes to a stop, now well within arm’s reach. She cautiously lifts a hand towards his face.

The motion makes him twitch and he jerks his head back around. She pulls her hand back in time to avoid colliding with his bruised cheek.

His expression is guarded as he glowers at her, a hint of incredulity and impatience tugging at his mouth while his eye is sharp. There’s a feeling tense expectation hanging about him that has a definite, bristling edge to it. He’s braced for a reprimand or a lecture, and is plenty ready to retaliate and start an argument. In fact, he almost looks like he’s hoping for an excuse to do just that.

Gwen gives him nothing of the sort, regarding him with a calm, weary look. She tentatively moves her hand towards his bruised cheek again, carefully studying his reaction.

He allows it, watching her like a hawk.

She stops short of touching his bandana, fingertips hovering just beside his cheek. She focuses on the back of her hand and scrounges up the last onzes of her energy for just one more small conjury spell.

Thancred’s jaw shifts beneath her hand, his shoulders tightening and lifting like he’s getting his hackles up.

A somewhat tenuous whisper of soothing magic ripples out of her fingers and flows across his skin. The effort leaves her feeling a bit like she stood up too quickly, but she sets her jaw and keeps at it. The fringe of blue and black begins to gradually soften and melt away, shrinking back beneath the edge of his bandana.

After a few slow, drawn out seconds his jaw flexes and he lets out a long, slow exhale that sounds distinctly like resignation. A bit of tension bleeds out of his posture and his shoulders begin to slowly sink back down.

Thancred’s expression gradually smooths out, angry sparks fading and antagonistic edge dulling. Eventually it settles into the dour, brooding look she’s more accustomed to.

His jaw tenses up, relaxes just enough to shift, then tenses again. She imagines the sound of his teeth grinding.

He turns his head ever so slightly, just enough that his cheek barely connects with the pads of her fingers. He takes a few careful breaths and closes his eye, brow not quite furrowed. There’s an air of resigned expectation to his silence and the passing seconds, as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Gwen doesn’t say a word, maintaining their slight connection and not pushing for more. He’s free to pull away, or to lean in. He’s free to talk, or not.

At length his eye opens again, and he looks a great deal calmer and more composed. “...I may have overreacted.” His voice is quiet but unapologetic, as flat as his mouth. “But it needed to be done. He was becoming hysterical.”

Gwen tilts her head a little, acquiescing the point. Thancred’s reaction wasn’t appropriate, no, and it was worryingly unlike him, but it was… understandable. Emmanellain is the one who threw the first punch, in all fairness, and he’d been doing a spectacular job of hitting their sore spots before that. She doesn’t blame the young nobleman for his frustration or whatever else he’s feeling, but that doesn’t mean she’s willing to listen to him rant whilst trying to heal his manservant.

Thancred takes another long breath, gaze drifting slowly over the stones around them. Eventually the silence urges him to speak again, “I understand the desire to look for reasons. For excuses. To convince yourself you had no choice. But the past is the past, and there is naught to be gained from reliving your mistakes.”

His tone has a heavy undercurrent of repetition to it, as though he was reciting words he was tired of hearing. Yet the words make his frown turn pensive, if a little wrinkled with bitterness, in a way that makes her think he’s yet working to fully process that statement himself.

Gwen tilts her head the other way, giving him a meaningful look. Are you telling me this? Or yourself?

“I know this,” Thancred insists immediately. “I know this.” His expression tightens, almost slipping into a grimace, and his eye drops back to the ground, “But he…”

He he huffs a sharp, frustrated breath and shifts moodily against the wall. He makes a point to keep his head still, maintaining their tentative connection.

She wonders how much striking Emmanellain made him realize the extent to which everything is affecting him.

Baby steps. Healing takes time. Understanding and overcoming one’s frustrations with themselves is a long road, and acknowledging them in the first place is the first step. He’s taken a step in the right direction. Hopefully.

Gwen can senses his cheek isn’t quite healed, but reluctantly admits she’s too spent to finish the job. She still has to fly to Ishgard and deliver the report to Aymeric, after all. And with her luck she’ll likely have more to endure after that, too, poison be damned.

She lets the spell peter out with a weary sigh, letting her hand linger for a few more seconds before dropping it back to her side.

Thancred takes a long moment to look her over again, bluntly studying her face and the way she’s holding herself. "You look hellish.”

Gwen’s lips twitch with a hint of a smile. No one is around, they’re alone and in private for the moment, so she reaches out to brush the tips of her fingers along his knuckles.

He watches, not quite impassively.

As her hand withdraws his turns, slowly as if it’s half-frozen. He curls his fingers just enough for the tips of hers to catch on his.

It’s surprising how steadying such a small thing can be.

Less than a breath later he lets hers drop. He shoulders himself off the wall and straightens up with a bit of muttering, brushing off his clothes. “Get your bird and let us away. We’ve important matters to attend to in Ishgard, and have kept the Lord Commander waiting entirely too long already. The lordling can arrange his return on his own time.”

--------------------

Tooth and nail - adverb with all one's resources or energy; fiercely

Oy vey @_@ this FFXIVWrite is really kicking my butt.

This is the first, and only, idea that sprung to mind when I saw the prompt. This part was so intense, and the conference just felt like the latest thing in the long list of “everything is going wrong fuuuuuu” @_@ I need to write more about this particular time in Post-HVW

#ffxivwrite2020 #Guinevere Ashe #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Gwencred #Post-Heavensward #Dragonsong War #My Writing #UGH MY BRAIN #god when he punched Emmanellain @_@#I was like 'oohhhh shit o.o... Uh Thancred? You good my guy?'

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taylorinthetardis · 3 years

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Only Human - Prologue and Chapter 1

Hey everyone! So this is the Pride and Prejudice AU I’ve been working on for a while now. It’s set in Modern Day London and told from Darcy’s POV. It is cross posted on AO3, the link to it will be below. I promise I will update it soon, I’ve just been a little bit blocked for a while. But I promise there will be more. So here we go, the prologue and first chapter are under the cut! Enjoy!! Feedback is much appreciated!! If you like it and want to be on a taglist, please feel free to say so!!

Thank you to @madbaddic7ed for all your encouraging words and for convincing me to cross post!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109365

Only Human

Summary: The events of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as seen through the eyes of Darcy. Story takes place in modern day London. Lizzy and Jane are American students studying abroad. Their sisters take turns visiting them throughout the story. Bingley and Darcy are recent business partners, but longtime friends. Caroline is as snake-ish as ever. George Wickham is an actual rapist - the rape will not be described in detail.

Pairing: William (Will) Darcy x Elizabeth (Lizzie) Bennet; Charles Bingley x Jane Bennet

Rating: Explicit due to eventual smut

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.8K

Prologue

It is a truth universally acknowledged that I, William Darcy, am an arsehole. The following tale, dear reader, will explain how that came to be and how, I hope, I have made the preceding statement a falsehood instead. The following tale does not often show me at my best. I hope, however, that you may look past my faults and forgive my disgraceful, ignorant, and often impure thoughts as I relay to you the circumstances by which I came to fall deeply in love with the most wonderful, challenging woman I’ve ever met, the method by which I nearly ruined an incredibly important friendship, and the events surrounding the creation of a familial fissure that will never heal. I hope you will not judge me too harshly.

Chapter 1: Hanover Terrace

I was sat in my office. My office. Still getting used to that. When I took over control from my Aunt Catherine in April, a lot of work was done to make this office mine. Catherine’s taste in furniture was, how should I phrase this, medieval. I was honestly surprised we didn’t have to remove any torture devices when her furniture was cleared out to make room for my more practical mahogany desk and overstuffed leather chairs. My degree from Cambridge’s Judge Business School was propped in my bookcase with photos of my parents and Georgiana on either side. The office is still rather spartan in comparison to Charles’ but I don’t mind it. Our companies had recently merged, an event that proved profitable for both parties and served to deepen our friendship. Our offices are across the hallway from each other now, as opposed to being across the Thames. The economic windfall had been excellent for Charles. He had decided to purchase a new home, one big enough for himself and his sister and closer to her university. Charles is an orphan, like myself, and the sole caretaker of his younger sister Caroline, who recently began her studies at the fashion and design school at Regent’s University. I feel for Charles sometimes. His younger sister is an absolute terror, but I guess we can’t all be blessed with saints for sisters. Caroline is an uncommonly cruel young woman. She delights in shit-talking friends and strangers alike. She also is labouring under the delusion that she will one day be my wife. Her older sister, Louisa, has enjoyed several years of trophy-wifery and it seems Caroline has decided that is the life she wants to live as well. Although she just recently came of age, she has flirted with me non-stop since the first day Charles invited me home with him. We’ve known each other since we were 18 years old. We are now 25. Damn near seven years. SEVEN YEARS. Seven fucking years dealing with Caroline’s shite. She just turned 18 earlier this year. What the hell did she think I was going to do with her when she was eleven goddamn years old? Go to prison? I sure as shit think not.

Charles entered my office at around 1. He was bouncier than usual. He had either had more than one of his normal sickly-sweet coffees or he was in love again. Turned out it was both.

“Oh, Will I’m so happy you convinced me to snatch up Hanover Terrace. I met the most beautiful woman in world yesterday. I never would have known her if I hadn’t decided to take your advice. I invited her and her sister out with us tonight. You don’t mind, do you? Even if you do, once you meet her, you’ll forget you were ever bothered.” He spoke at such a speed that I only caught about every third word. My ears perked, however, at the ‘out with us tonight’ part. Out with us? I don’t remember agreeing to go anywhere with Charles. He always wants to go to nightclubs. He knows I don’t dance. He always does this. Drags me to some poppy nightclub with strobe lights and terrible music.

“And how did you meet this one Charles? Spill your coffee on her? No, wait, you were walking Caroline’s stupid pug and she thought it was cute and wanted to pet it.”

“Christ, am I becoming that predictable?” Yes Charles. Every girl you’ve ever fancied has fallen into your life in a cliché.

I nodded. He sighed.

“Well, it’s different this time. She isn’t like any other girl I’ve been with. More beautiful than Sarah, kinder than Tilly, oh and her sister Will. Her sister has got to be one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever spoken to in my life. They’re both very beautiful Will. If I was a betting man, I’d wager that Lizzie might even be beautiful enough to tempt you out of your shell and entice you to have some goddamn fun for once. Maybe she’ll even get you to dance.” He nudged me with his elbow, winking. Yeah right Charles. Not even Charlize Theron could get me to dance at a nightclub.

“I seriously doubt that Charles. So, what’s this one called, hm?”

“Jane.” He said it with a sigh. Oh, he’s already long gone. “Her sister is called Elizabeth, but she prefers Lizzie. They’re American, Darce. From the Midwest. They’re both studying abroad at Regent’s for the year.”

“And to what godforsaken place will you be attempting to drag me to tonight?”

“I was thinking Drama? I wanna show off a little Will. I really like her; I want to impress her.”

“Drama might be a little much for a midwestern girl, don’t you think? What about that place we went in Camden a few months ago, by the lock?”

“Lock 17? Isn’t that a little down market for you Darce? There isn’t even a dress code!”

“Come off it, you know I couldn’t care less Charles. I don’t even like going out. I just think Lock 17 will be the better choice for her. You don’t want to scare her. Anyway, I think you’ll have a nice time. Without me.”

“Nuh uh, you aren’t getting out of this. You come or you’re dead to me.” I rolled my eyes. Jesus he’s such a goddamn drama queen.

“Ugh fine I’ll go. But I’m not dancing and you can’t make me. I’m a grown man Charles. So, meet at Hanover Terrace at, what, 8pm? Or should we meet earlier?”

“I was thinking 7:30, that way we’ll all have plenty of time to get ready and you can get to know them before we go. I’m going to order the cab for 8 so we’ll have plenty of time to get there if there’s any slow spots.”

“Please tell me you’ll be leaving Caroline at home.”

“Yeah, so she can kick my arse over it later? No chance. Besides, we’ll probably lose her to the dance floor as soon as we get in. She’ll find some nice dumb boy to buy her drinks and you won’t have to see her all night.” No Charles she’ll be on me like white on rice all damn night and you bloody well know it.

“Alright. But I’m not dancing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I arrived at Hanover Terrace about 7:30. As soon as Charles opened the door, I immediately regretted my decision to come. I should have told him I got food poisoning from lunch or something. Caroline was stomping through the front room, going from box to box screaming that she couldn’t find her favourite clubbing heels. Who the fuck has a favourite pair of heels for clubbing? Heels seem so impractical for dancing. Charles’ new love and her sister had yet to arrive and Charles appeared to be in a slight panic.

“What if she doesn’t come Will?” He said shakily. Christ he’s in a full meltdown.

“I’m sure she’ll be here in a few minutes Charles. It’s not even close to 8 o’ clock yet. You’ve got plenty of time, just relax.” I took a minute to look around his new home. He had barely unpacked. I helped him get everything in order for the move about two weeks ago and he moved in a few days later. Everything was basically where it was when I visited three days ago. “Have you genuinely not unpacked anything Charles? How are you even living in here?”

“I’ve got enough clothes unpacked upstairs to last another week probably. Caroline’s rarely home in the evening anymore so I just keep getting take-away. There’s a Chipotle just around the corner on Baker Street. You know I love a burrito bowl. Something I have in common with the lovely Jane.” Gag. Well, at least the movers got his furniture set up, although most of the downstairs furnishings were unusable because they were covered with cardboard boxes and plastic totes and suitcases. The sofa in the main living area was clear enough that I took a seat. Caroline continued her tear through the front room until a triumphant screech echoed through the relatively empty house. The heels in question were easily six inches high, sparkly platformed monstrosities. They completed a look which can only be described as what a disco ball would look like if it was a contestant on Love Island. Hopefully Jane and her sister would be a bit more sensibly dressed, like Charles and myself. I decided on a plain black tee and black jeans with my black and white trainers. Charles had gone with a less monochromatic palette, wearing a bright blue button down that was almost the colour of his eyes and a pair of dark blue jeans. We’re wearing the same shoes. Us and every other man in London. Suddenly there was knock on the door. I checked my watch, 7:35. I told Charles he was worrying for nothing. He bounced towards the door like Caroline’s pug when he needed a shit. He opened the door to reveal a young blonde woman and a younger looking woman with auburn hair.

“Jane, Lizzie, I’m so pleased you’re here. Sorry about the mess, haven’t had much time to unpack yet, with work and all.” Charles led them through to the room I had posted up in. The dark-haired girl peered at me through purple framed glasses. Her sister gave her a little nudge. Well fuck, Charles wasn’t kidding. God they’re both gorgeous! They were dressed considerably more sensibly than Caroline. Jane wore a low pair of black heels that complemented her red cocktail dress. Her sister was even more comfortably dressed, in black leggings, Doc Martins, and a plain white t-shirt. She wore a black leather jacket over the tee. Neither girl appeared to be wearing much make-up. Both were possessed of the natural beauty that Caroline tried to fabricate in her hour-long make-up routine that left her looking like she had Photoshopped her own face, but in real life. I stuck my hand out. “Will Darcy. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Wow, sound more like you’re a hundred years old, why don’t you Will?

“Will, this is Lizzie,” he gestured to the brunette, “and this is Jane.” He put his hand on the small of the blonde’s back and she blushed redder than Charles’ hair.

“Lizzie Bennet. It’s so nice to meet you Will.” She took my hand with her considerably smaller one and shook it. It was a firmer handshake than I’d had from some of my business associates. She dropped my hand and her sister took up the vacancy. Her handshake was much softer, grip much lighter, much more feminine. Looking at the two women before me, I wouldn’t have known they were sisters if Charles hadn’t told me. They couldn’t have been more different. One blonde, one brunette. Jane had soft blue eyes, Lizzie’s were bright and hazel. Jane was tall and slender, her sister shorter and softer around the middle. Taking all of her in I came to a sudden realization: she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Okay Will be cool. For once in your bloody life be cool. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak Lizzie launched into an animated conversation with Charles about her day. It was all I could do not to stare at her mouth while it moved faster than Charles’ ever had, no matter how in love he was or how many Frappuccinos he had consumed. I sat back down on the sofa, while Lizzie sat on the carpet, Charles on the coffee table, and Jane remained standing. Lizzie told us about one of her professors, an archaeologist who taught university classes when he wasn’t on digs.

“He’s like a real-life Indiana Jones except without the bullwhip and the hat. And he’s not Harrison Ford. But still. Oh, and don’t even let me get started on my Shakespeare professor. George. He’s my most favourite.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying your studies Lizzie. But don’t forget to explore the city while you’re here! London is full of endless things to see and do. I’ve lived here most of my life and I still haven’t seen everything!” Charles is so blessed. I wish I could just talk. Talking is better than staring. C’mon mouth, work! “Wouldn’t you agree Darce?”

Shit, I have to talk now? I nodded, again opening my mouth to speak, but no words came. Charles picked the conversation back up, turning to Jane to ask if she had a pleasant day as well.

“Yes. I took a lovely walk through Regent’s Park today. I only have the one class on Thursdays so I’ve been using the rest of the day to explore a bit. Lizzie’s schedule is so much fuller than mine so I’ve been finding places for us to go on the weekends. We’ve gone to Camden Market and Hyde Park. When you met us the other day, we were on our way back from the Tate Modern, I don’t remember if I said or not.”

“Yes, you said Lizzie was disappointed because she thought you were going to the Tate Britain.”

“Do you have something against modern art?” Oh, cool. Thanks, mouth. Why did that come out like I’m angry about that? Modern art is dumb. How is a pile of rubber or a cut-up McDonald’s bag art?

“I can appreciate that its art, like how I can appreciate that romance novels are literature or techno is music, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I prefer the old masters and classical art to a splash of paint on a canvas. My little cousin can do that too, does that mean her art belongs in a prestigious museum? Naw fam it sure don’t.” Yes. I wholly agree. Why does she have her eyebrow raised at me? Does she think I don’t agree? What is my face doing? Am I scowling? I don’t want to scowl. Did she say ‘fam’? That doesn’t matter. Why does it feel like it matters?

“You’ll have to excuse my sister. She’s never been shy about her opinions. And she has a lot of them.” Jane shot her sister a disapproving look. Lizzie just shrugged. Caroline chose that moment to come swanning into the room. Seeing there was a perfectly good space next to her brother on the coffee table, she chose to throw herself down into my lap. Oh, for fucks sake. She’s gonna get fake tanner on my trousers.

“Will, my love," I threw up in my mouth a little, "we’re going to have such a wonderful time at Drama tonight.” I can’t wait to burst her bubble.

“Caroline, did Charles not tell you? We aren’t going to Drama. We’re going to Lock 17, in Camden.” I tried to move her from my lap, but she dug her heels into the carpet for grounding. Fat Christ, Charles will you get your sister under control?

She sputtered, on the verge of a full tantrum directed at her brother when, blessedly, Charles’ phone vibrated. “That’ll be the cab. Caroline are you still coming?”

She jumped up off my lap and straightened the piece of sequined cloth trying to pass itself off as a dress. “Of course I’m going Charles. I put all this on, I can’t just not go out now!” She stomped off to the dining area to get her bag from the table. Charles led Jane towards the front door. I extended my hand down to Lizzie, who took it. I pulled her up from the floor. You should let go of her hand now Will. You’re being weird. I dropped her hand like it had burned me. Smooth. She looked at me, smirked and cocked that eyebrow again. Saying nothing, she followed her sister and Charles out the front door. Caroline took advantage of my initial inaction by slipping her arm into mine, leading me towards the cab. And my doom.

#Taylor writes #Pride and Prejudice #fanfiction #Modern AU #Darcy's POV #Mr Darcy #Elizabeth Bennet #Charles Bingley #Jane Bennet

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studentmyself · 3 years

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This finale was kind of low energy but hey, it is the “live” format we wanted and we’re still in a pandemic so I understand.

Yay!!! I Love that Ru said let me perform Real quick for the children. Sometimes the younger generation doesn’t really understand just how much RuPaul has really changed the game for the girls. Without RuPaul and other legendary Drag performers there would be no drag race and it would be no platform for the queer community to perform on such a high level. So hopefully people start to realize just how much RuPaul and other Legendary Queens have really done for the community. Also give her a break, she’s 60 years old for god sake’s. Most 60-year-olds aren’t going to dance like they did the 90s.

The queen serving three looks were amazing. I think they should keep that for a future season finales.

All the interviews were nice. I like Rose’s family interview the best and they have very good family dynamic.

I didn’t like the 80s tribute song, but yay for Queer history!!!

First off Rose Sprained her ankle a couple weeks back and was still healing from that. Keep this in mind before we get into these lip syncs.

Also I read the spoilers on Reddit about a week prior so I kind a knew what was gonna happen, but it’s like season nine how everyone heard what was gonna happen, but we didn’t know how it was going to happen.

So the first one was Rose versus Kandy Muse. Rose did something.... honestly I was a bit disappointed with the whole lip-synch in general, I get this she sprained her ankle a couple weeks ago. But ultimately she could’ve done more and the look was horrible. I just don’t understand. Also there are rumors that Rose fainted right before the lip-synch apparently? So the whole situation just was not good for her that night. But also I just feel like Rose could’ve done more physical dancing if she hadn’t hurt her ankle. Can Kandy was OK, I give her credit for having reveal that didn’t look like a reveal. Kandy wins and Rose is off the All-Star seven or eight.

Next it’s Simone versus GotMik.

This lip sync was a little bit more closer and actually seemed like they were trying and was still kind of low energy. But Symone turned into Lil Kim and i was living.

Lala wins miss congeniality as she should.

I think I like embodies all the best things about Atlanta, Georgia, southern, nice, dramatic, fun. I hope to see her on the All-Star season.

I appreciate them bringing the season 12 queens Jaida and Heidi to the actual finale because they didn’t get a chance to actually have the real stage for their finale so that’s nice. I love Jadis look, I feel so bad for Jaida because essentially she won Dragrace and didn’t get to do half the stuff the other one is got to do.

The final lip-sync

It was OK, still low energy. I don’t know what candy was wearing and I am shocked that Michelle visage didn’t show up at all because she would’ve read the hell out of Kandy. That body tracksuit is ugly and tacky. But I did like this she tried to bring up some flag? Simone I didn’t like the initial look.

The moment I know Symone won was when she had stuff popping out of her hair!!! That’s how you gagged the children. Give them that Atlanta hair show REALNESS.

Symone wins!!!

I hope season 14 is not as highly produced next year

Also does VH1 really think that people are going to pay for Paramount Plus just to see all star six? They really are doing the allstars six girls dirty by doing that and no one’s going to pay for Paramount Plus just to see All-Star six LOL.

#my thoughts #drag race #rupaul’s drag race #rpdr #rpdr s13

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glapplebloom · 4 years

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Hopefully by now you’ve played the game or seen someone’s let’s play...

The story begins with something I didn’t expect: a council of animals from all different species. A young Zebra named Ribbon tells them a story about how they were almost killed by weird shadowy creatures which we know as Predators. Between this and other eye witnesses, the Llama in the group believes the prophecy is true. While the Rhino, the head of this group I presume, don’t believe in it, she still thinks its a good idea to find this Key the Predators are looking for and the entire council states that each species brings up their champion.

Chapter 1 begins with Arizona. And I hope you’re good with her because she’s the only one you get to play with. The Cattle knew of the past as they kept its knowledge with them despite everyone else forgetting it as Legend. So when Arizona’s father call out for volunteers, the first of the Book of Lore is broke: instead of everyone rushing to prove themselves, they all fled until only Arizona was the last one standing. She of course volunteers but her pops wouldn’t allow it. But while Texas is the leader of the Group, its Minnesota, his wife and Arizona’s mother, that wears the pants in this family. With her mother’s blessing and her father’s worry, she’s off to be the Champion of the Prairie.

The first bit of game play begins in the Canyon Pass. We get to see Arizona travel through it. While the over world looks like an RPG, this is always first and foremost a Fighting Game. Which leads me to one of my first problems: the platforming uses fighting game controls. It was an issue for me because despite being able to do so in other games, I had difficulty performing the short hops and super jumps it expected me to. Gonna guess it was the controller’s fault since it looks like a third party 360 Controller, but this becomes a bigger issue later on.

Despite agreeing to wait with a kind lady for the bridge to get built, Arizona sees a predator coming out of the “warned not to enter” Salt Mines and fights them off. Something to note is your health and levels stay with you after the fight. So if you’re not careful, you’ll be too low of health before you had the chance to recover. You can rebuild if you finish an opponent off with a super move, but for those who bought this game and aren’t into fighting games, maybe add some items that can restore health. One thing I will say I am glad for is the platforming doesn’t affect your health... Yet.

After getting out of the Salt Mines, our first boss encounter. It combines a normal fighting game engine with gimmicks depending on who you’re facing. Snakey, for example, attacks you from the background and you have to fight your way towards him while avoiding falling projectiles. It makes it more unique than how other fighting game story modes play it out. Downside, they expect you to remove 2 to 3 full health bars while you’re stuck with the one. Again, something people really good in fighting games can handle. Others will likely find it difficult. I like to think I’m in the middle but I am a person who favors Shoto Fighters and learned until after the fact Arizona has a smashing ground move that could be the closest to a projectile

Arizona is in the big city of the Reindeer. You can explore the city, see Pom chasing her dogs, and have an option fights with a bunch of Predators in someone’s basement (which honestly I believe is important to the story but you get to see that gate again in a later chapter) and in a hidden room in the library (sleeping with a Velvet Plush). I forgot to mention there are hidden costumes for you to find to wear on your RPG self. After finding the museum (with no help from the Reindeer), we get to meet boss #2: Velvet.

Now for some praising: the story mode does a great job letting us know of the main characters they focused on. The writing is very humorous and shows that this could be a great show if we get someone to produce cartoons for it. But because both are champions, only one could get the key: And that means they have to fight.

Velvet has three stages, but two share a life bar. The first is a normal fight. The second the wind constantly blows against you. This is when the rope can be useful to bring her in close if you’re position is right. The third phase is the most annoying. She’s in a tornado of ice and you have to get in close to hit her. But she’ll throw out various projectiles at you. Get close enough and you can hit her. But if you lose, you have to start from the last checkpoint. This is another problem I had. Granted, the check points are usually close to the boss encounter and there is a skip dialogue option, but to do so constantly when you keep failing is annoying when you can just put the rematch after the fight.

After that, you get to climb a mountain. This means more platforming. The biggest problem here is this time there are enemies. Bird Enemies. You can’t just hit them once and not worry, they got their own Health Bars and will attack you if you’re in their line of site. So imagine fighting game controls where you want to block these birds but instead turn around, leaving you open for an attack from behind. This is why I appreciate that Smash gives people a button to do jump as well as the ability to press up. That could help these platform stages so much more.

After climbing a mountain and fighting a murder of birds, she is found and patched up by a tribe of llamas. They warn her not to venture far but she does ignore them because she is on a quest. They do warn her of a monster in the maze and Arizona does indeed confront this monster: the Third Boss Paprika.

Like Velvet, Paprika has three phases with two sharing a life bar. 1st is a normal fight. Second is her sneak attacking you which you can avoid if you’re fast enough (or remember in the rematches) and third is she presses along the 4th Wall so she can jump on you from the front. Also, no one can understand her, not even her fellow Llamas.

After that, Velvet explores a temple. This is complete with Predator enemies, the in story Boss Gauntlet Gate, and block puzzles. You even drop two big ones on sleeping predators on the ground. After going through all that, you meet the final boss of this chapter: Oleander (or Ollie if you want to annoy her).

Unlike the other bosses, Ollie has four phases (but you only need to get to the third one to continue the story line): Phase 1, a normal fight. Phase 2, she sometimes burst in energy that can do major damage. Phase 3, she flies around the screen shooting magical blasts at you. And the Final Phase, with the help from Fred (the evil spirit within the book), you have to avoid his attacks while stopping Ollie from unleashing a one hit kill move.

If you lose at Phase 3, the story continues. If you somehow manage to win, Fred pretty much destroys you and the story continues regardless. Arizona is beaten as Ollie finds the information she is looking for. As she leaves, Arizona gets up to continue her journey, beaten but not giving up on her quest. And that’s where the Chapter ends.

Overall, its a fun story and its one of the most unique story modes in a fighting game. But I can see three improvements: Add a jump button for the platforming levels, have healing items, and maybe give back some health between phases. But still I would say give it a try or at least a watch.

#Other Reviews #Them's Fightin' Herds

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etherealwaifgoddess · 5 years

Text

The Magical Healing Powers of Hot Cocoa

Main Characters: Loki x Read

Summary: After stealing the tesseract in Endgame Loki finds himself trying to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life. He's lost and reeling until he meets you (and your daughter) and suddenly he knows exactly what he wants in his life.

Warnings/ Content: Angst if you squint but primarily it’s just sweet fluff here!

Word Count: 10,376

Author’s Note: This fic was written for Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. I snagged prompt #14 which was “Drinking Hot Chocolate”. Hopefully @sherrybaby14 will forgive me for calling it cocoa, I had the whole thing written out when I reread my actual prompt! I had so much fun writing this and it went on for much longer than I expected it to. I just love the idea of Loki finding happiness after so many years of struggling. I also have it up over AO3 since I know it can be easier to read something this long over on their platform. Thank you all for reading and a huge thank you for @sherrybaby14 for hosting this super fun challenge!

XOXO - Ash

The Magical Healing Powers of Hot Cocoa

Part One

Loki watched as the tesseract fell from its case and slid across the marble floor to his feet. There was no time to think, everyone was distracted by Tony Stark collapsed on the floor. Loki knew of the power of the tesseract but had never used it to transport himself before. Grasping the glowing cube in his hands he desperately pulled at his seidr and with a burst of light found himself on the fifth floor of the building. Loki was shaking, his breaths coming in large gasps; he was free. Loki could hear the crackle of a Comm Unit and located the receiver docked at an abandoned desk.

“Loki is on the fourteenth floor.” the voice of Steve Rogers called out of the device.

Interesting, Loki thought to himself. He couldn’t resist investigating, he knew he was too curious by nature but he followed his instincts and crept silently up to the fourteenth floor where he found Steve Rogers fighting Steve Rogers. It was quite a sight and Loki stared at the scene in disbelief. The imposter was certainly not their Captain America but it begged to question, who was it? Loki stared at the second Steve with curiosity, he wondered how this second man had come to be and when he raced off after leaving their Steve unconscious Loki chose to follow him. There was nothing keeping him around and he loathed the idea of being captured by his brother again.

Quiet as a ghost, Loki wrapped himself in seidr and followed this new Steve out of the building and into an ally where he was met by an older looking Tony Stark and a younger, very confused looking man in the same style suit as theirs. Loki was irked as Steve handed the younger man his scepter but he wasn’t willing to make his presence known. After a heated conversation Tony and Steve started pressing buttons on a device they both wore on their wrists. Loki didn’t hesitate when he saw the air around their bodies shift, he grasped onto Steve’s arm and was hurtled through time and space with them. A moment later, Loki found himself standing in a military base many decades in the past along with Tony and Steve.

Loki released Steve’s arm, he might be cloaked from view but he couldn’t risk the captain feeling his touch by accident. It wasn’t easy following the two around the base and several times Loki doubted his own sanity for even attempting this fools mission. But he wanted to see what the men were doing and what they were taking from this place. Loki was ready when they started tapping away at their wrist devices again and he placed a tentative hand on Tony’s back. Just as before, he was pulled along with them.

Loki looked around the compound, unable to place himself in time. Tony and Steve were speaking animatedly with a sobbing Clint, and an assembled group of others all wearing the same suits. Loki silently moved away from the raised platform they’d landed on. He walked around inspecting the room and strained to see if he could recognize anyone else in the group. The moment his eyes locked on Thor he felt the wind knocked out of him. Surely this was another universe, it would take an impossibly cruel world to have ruined his shining god of a brother. Loki fled, unsure where was going or really, where he was.

Loki eventually found himself in an empty office filled with computers and he pulled up the date as quickly as he could. It was 2023, eleven years in the future from his time. Loki knew the last eleven years must have been rough on the Avengers and he needed to know what had happened. Pulling up files and reports from the main drive Loki downloaded as much as he could onto the laptop. Reports and files and photos whizzed past on the screen and one in particular caught his eye; Loki (Laufeyson) Odinson - Death Record. Loki clicked open the file and began reading the report. His head swam with the information. Killed, at Thanos’ hand, on a ship back to Earth with the remaining Asgardians after they caused Ragnarock to stop his tyrannical sister. Loki was on the verge of breaking down, his mind reeling trying to make sense of all this new information and the strange future around him. He feared in his distress that the cloaking of his seidr would fail him.

Pulling himself together, Loki knew he needed to get the hell out of wherever he was, but he also needed to know what kind of world he was walking out into. Loki rifled through the desks while he waited, looking for anything that could be useful to him. Pushing past stacks of paper he found a granola bar, a bottle of Pepsi, and a key to a safe. Loki quickly scanned the room, desperate to locate the safe before his time was up. The glint of a lock caught his eye on the bottom of one of the desks and the key slid it in with a click. Nothing too exciting inside, mostly paperwork, but there was also a thick envelope with $5,000 cash. Loki thanked the Norns, it was enough to keep him going for a bit. After several tense minutes the downloads were complete and Loki grabbed the slim black laptop off it’s dock. Cursing himself, Loki doubled back to grab the charging cable and then bolted from the room.

Loki hurried off the compound grounds and began walking down the street to wherever it would lead. Part of him wanted to just hop back to 2012 but he wasn’t sure how to go about that, even if he managed to get his hands on one of those wrist devices. And if he did go back, he was a wanted man whose death he had already seen. Loki made a decision not to go anywhere else in time until he had learned what missteps he took that lead to his untimely demise. Maybe once he knew, he could go back and do it all over, save his brother and his people. Wouldn’t that surprise them all, he mused as he walked.

Eventually Loki realized he needed to get out of wherever here was so that he couldn’t be accidentally spotted by one of the pesky Avengers or their allies. So using the tesseracts powers Loki jumped through space to the only place he could think of: New York City.

Part Two

The city was bustling, a sea of people flooding past the entrance to the alley Loki materialized in. Perfect cover for someone trying to disappear and stay hidden, he thought. Loki swept his seidr over himself, changing out of his beloved Asgardian clothes and into what he hoped would pass as an “Average Joe”. He hated the idea of being considered some common Midgardian but he needed to blend in. He materialized fitted black jeans, an emerald green tee, and black boots for himself hoping it was adequately innocuous. The October chill was more prominent in the city and Loki enjoyed the cool air nipping at his skin. He pulled his silky black hair back in low bun and then joined the sea of passing people.

After a few blocks he spotted a diner advertising free Wifi and Loki figured that was as good as he was going to find until he could procure a hotel room for the night. The scent of french fry grease hit him as he entered and he wrinkled his nose at it. But it was warm inside and the sun would be setting soon. It was better than nothing for now and he needed sustenance.

“Grab a seat anywhere.” you call out in an overly cheerful voice, not looking up from the mug you’re filling with coffee. You are eight hours into a twelve hour shift and are desperately ready for the dinner rush to die down a little so you can grab yourself a bite to eat. You see out of the corner of your eye a single figure take the farthest seat down at the counter next to the wall. You hate when people camp out at the very last seat along the counter, it makes it harder to keep an eye on everyone when they’re scattered. Still easier than being stuck waiting on the booths though.

Loki settles in at the farthest seat away from the people at the counter, thankful for the wall on one side of him and praying no one dares to occupy the seat to his left. He needs privacy so he can look through the files he’d downloaded without horrifying some nosy Midgardian. Loki opens up the lid of the laptop and sets it out in front of him on the counter, hoping it makes his intention to not be disturbed clear.

You swing down a minute later, order pad in hand. “Can I get you something to drink?” you ask, pen poised and ready.

Loki barely looks up from his screen other than to acknowledge that someone is present, “What type of tea do you have?” he asks.

The smooth, rich timber of his voice has you lifting your head. It’s accented, but you can’t quite place it’s origin. Possibly English but it’s refined, elegant, and somehow it brings to mind the legends of King Arthur and Lancelot. “We have plain Lipton. Or decaf.” you tell him. You hadn’t really taken note of him when he walked in but you realize he’s actually quite attractive after taking a moment to study him. His shiny blue-black hair looks impossibly soft, his skin porcelain pale, his body lithe but with broad shoulders and lean muscles. He’s far from your standard weeknight patrons. He has to be a model or actor of some sort.

Loki purses his lips in disapproval, “Coffee, then.”

“Coming right up.” You barely suppress your eye roll at his distaste for the tea choices. It’s a diner, what does this guy expect? But fancy voice most likely means fancy tastes, and hopefully for you a nice big tip. You dash back down with a mug of fresh coffee and a menu, depositing both next to him without interrupting whatever he’s working on.

Loki is engrossed in the files he downloaded. He sifts through the last decade of the world and it isn’t painting a pretty picture. As much as it pains him to admit it, his heart aches at the deaths of Odin and Frigga, the only parents he’d ever known, as well as for the destruction of Asgard. The details of Thor’s slide into despair and self loathing over the past five years are particularly painful as well. It is a bleak future for everyone and he’s planning how he can prevent it when he notices a file on the multiverse. There is no changing what happened in this reality, just as there is no way to go back and change the course of the one he came from at this point.

Loki hangs his head, defeated in a way that he rarely allows himself to feel. He notices the mug of coffee and takes a tentative sip. It’s dark and bitter but not as terrible as he’d expected. It’s cool at this point so he pulses a little seidr into the drink warming it back up. He lets the mug warm his hands, needing a moment to collect himself. He’s trying to work out what to do next, where to go. Loki has always been a planner, ensuring he is two steps ahead of everyone else, but now... he’s lost. It’s an uncomfortable feeling and one he has no intention of becoming well acquainted with.

You start and stop a few times to return to the end of the counter to check on your solitary customer. The pained expression he wears stops you in your tracks each time. He is clearly going through something and you don’t want to pester him. You are about to head down again when your daughter tugs on your apron hem. “Mama,” she says as she pulls. “Pleeease make me hot cocoa?”

You stare down into your daughter’s eyes and she gives you her very best behaved smile. You sigh, at least she has been keeping herself busy at the counter with her coloring book and not causing any trouble for you or the owner whose office she had taken over earlier in the day. “Okay, Lilly-pad. One hot cocoa, coming up.” you give her thin shoulder a squeeze and head back to make it yourself.

You had been so fortunate to find this job after your fiance and Lilly’s father, Max, disappeared. The owner, Beth, adores you both and lets you be flexible with your schedule to ensure you have childcare for Lilly. Though now that she is getting older she enjoys hanging out at the diner while you work and Beth enjoys having her there too. Max had gone missing the day of The Decimation, his name added to those of the lost. You went from a mostly happy fiance and stay at home mom to a single working mom, and it had been a rough adjustment. Lilly was only a few months old when it happened and you’d had taken the first job you came across, desperate for any income you could get. A year later you found out through a friend that Max was alive and well, living the bachelor life in New Jersey. He’d seen what was going on and took it as his chance to run. You knew Lilly hadn’t been planned, and sure, Max probably wasn’t your soulmate, but you had been happy once and it broke your heart all over again that he’d run out on you. But in the end you had Lilly and she was the absolute best thing you had ever done.

Tearing yourself from wallowing, you return to your daughter with her cocoa.

Lilly squeals as you hand her the mug and wiggles happily in her seat. “Thanks mama.” she grins. You notice a new couple has come in and you hurry over to greet them, “Be good Lilly-pad.” you remind her.

Loki is scrolling through photos of Thano’s destruction on other planets prior to what is being called The Decimation. Thanos was ruthless and Loki wishes he hadn’t fallen for the tyrants promises in his bid to take over Midgard. Loki is so deep in thought that he doesn’t hear the approaching pitter-patter of little feet. A small hand reaches out and pokes his arm, causing him to jump, startled. The child jumps too, sloshing a mug of something in her hand and making a small squeak sound. Loki had intended to tell the intruder off but as he looks down at her the words caught in his throat. She is a tiny, almost frail, little girl with long onyx hair and bright emerald eyes. It’s like another universe had opened up and spat out a child of his own creation. He has no words and finds himself just staring at her, inquisitively.

“My mama gives me cocoa when I’m sad. Cocoa is good for sad. I brought you some.” Lilly tells him as matter of factly as a five year old can.

Loki smirks despite himself, intuitive little Midgardian. “And why do you think I’m sad, little one?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“You looked sad. I watched you for a while. I like your hair, it’s like mine.”

Loki nods, “Indeed it is. And where is your mama?” He looks around, shocked anyone would just let their child take a beverage over to a stranger.

Lilly points over to you where you are taking two sodas to your new customers.

Loki stares for a moment. He hadn’t really looked at you since he’d sat down and now he wishes he had. You don’t share your daughters features but he pauses for a moment to take you in. He couldn’t have picked you out of a line up before but now; now he is absolutely entranced. The tendrils of hair escaping your bun to float around your face, the way you smile wide and disarmingly with apparent ease, the rounded curves of your body beneath your pale blue work uniform. Shaking himself a little, he returns his focus to the child who is still holding out a mug in his direction. “Thank you, little one.” he says as graciously as he can while taking the cup from her small hands.

“My name’s Lilly.” she announces.

Lilly hops up on the seat to the left of Loki and he is more amused than annoyed with his visitor. Children never took to him like they did to his brother. Back on Asgard Thor loved when the children visited the palace, he played with them endlessly as if he were a giant child himself. Which he sort of was, Loki muses. It wasn’t that Loki wasn’t fond of them, he just wasn’t as approachable as his oafish brother. This one though, this one looks at him like he’s her best friend.

“Hello Lilly. My name is Loki.” He extends a hand which she shakes dutifully and he suppresses a chuckle.

“Don’t you like cocoa?” She points to the cup he’d sat down on the counter in front of him.

“I’ve never had it before. Shall I try it?”

Lilly nods rapidly.

“Alright then, let’s see about this.” Loki eyes the cup as he brings it to his lips. It‘s blatantly some form of child’s beverage and he steels himself to politely pass it back to her after an obligatory sip. That is until the taste of sweet, creamy, chocolate hits his tongue. Loki’s eyes widen despite himself and his tentative sip becomes a long gulp. He would never admit to something so undignified but Loki has a serious sweet tooth, one he painstakingly ignores most of the time. Growing up, everyone thought it was only Thor based on the way he had sought out sweets at every opportunity but it was actually the pair of them. Loki just prefers to be a little more dignified about it. “This is perfect, little one. Thank you. Would you like the rest?” Loki wants to bolt down the rest of the drink but he reigns himself in as always.

Lilly shakes her head, “No, mama will make me a new one. That’s yours.”

“Only if you are certain.” Loki takes another sip, feeling the sugar hit his empty stomach, and he represses a shudder of delight.

“Yeah. It s’okay. Be right back Mr. Loki!”

Loki watches, still amused, as she jumps down and runs off, pulling at her mother’s apron and whispering excitedly.

Your daughter is normally pretty outgoing so it isn’t a surprise that she’s made a new “friend” while you work. Lilly rapidly tells you about her new friend who she got the cocoa for and now she needs a new one for herself. She points down the counter and you follow her finger to the dark haired man at the end. You’re stunned. One that she was so perceptive that something was upsetting him, and two that he had indulged her intrusion. You quickly make a new cup for Lilly and follow her down to the end of the counter.

Loki takes the cocoa from Lilly’s hand, setting it down so she can scramble up onto the stool again. He notices you came down too and he worries for a moment that you are not comfortable with your daughter drinking cocoa with him. Parents are protective of their children and he respects that, but he also needs the momentary distraction as his brain fights to process everything he has learned in the past few hours. “She just came running up with the cocoa. I’ll pay for it, just add it to my check.” Loki tells you in a rush.

You lips quirk in a half smile at his earnestness. He doesn’t seem harmful, a little tired maybe, but no alarm bells are going off in your head. You’ll only be a few feet away at all times anyway. “I’m sure she did, she’s a rascal. If you’d rather get back to work though, she has plenty of coloring books she can go back to.” you offer.

“No, it’s fine. I needed a break.” He assures you. Now that the sugar is hitting his system Loki realizes he is ravenous. He turns to face Lilly who is licking the whipped cream off the top of her mug as it sits on the counter. “I should probably get something to eat though. Lilly, what’s the best thing on the menu?”

Lilly squints, her little brow furrowing as she thinks. “Grilled cheese.” she finally announces.

“Well, that’s something else I’ve never tried. I’m going to trust you again, little one.” Loki turns back to you, “A grilled cheese. Please.” the ‘please’ is hastily added, like he isn’t used to pleasantries and you hold back a smile at the thought that he’d at least tried.

“Never had cocoa or grilled cheese, huh? What planet did you grow up on?” you tease lightly as you write it down on your pad.

Loki, who is already painfully pale, actually blanches a little. He regains his composure quickly, “Strict parents.” he mumbles and takes another sip of his cocoa.

“My mom is strict too. She makes me go to bed at seven thirty.” Lilly interjects dramatically.

“What horrors.” Loki feigns shock, holding a hand to his chest, “You should at least be able to stay up until midnight by now.”

Lilly giggles, “Mama, I like him.”

You shake your head at both of their antics and head back to the kitchen to drop off his order.

It turns out Loki is just as impressed with the grilled cheese as the cocoa. He’s starting to wonder what else he has missed out on Midgard. You linger longer and longer each trip down as the diner quiets for the evening. Lilly drags her coloring books over to show Loki her latest creations which he admires with all the seriousness of an art critic at The Met. He is so patient and kind, your heart aches a little watching them.

Eventually Lilly’s little yawns became big ones and you know it’s time to get her settled on the makeshift cot in the back office to sleep until the end of your shift.

“I’m fine mama.” She grumbles fiercely, overtired and not willing to leave her new friend.

“Now Lilly, you need to listen to your mama. It’s far past seven thirty already.” Loki shoots you a sympathetic look. He had never tried using an authoritative voice on a child before and he hopes it was convincing.

Lilly’s bottom lip quivers and for a moment, Loki is ready to say the hell with bedtimes. “But I go to sleep and never see you again. Ever.”

“Perhaps not, little one. You never know. I like the cocoa here an awful lot. I might come back again.”

“You come back tomorrow?” she looks up at him hopefully.

Loki knows it’s stupid but he’s nodding before his brain can catch up. “Absolutely.”

You scowl at him and he wonders what transgression he could have made. “Come on, Lilly-pad. Let’s go.”

Lilly throws her arms around Loki and he gives her a soft pat on the back, unaccustomed to such affections. “Night Mr. Loki.” she says through a yawn as you usher her into the back.

Loki is burying himself back into the files when you come back out. You stand, arms crossed, glaring daggers at him. He actually recoils in surprise when he sees you.

You’re fine with him being sweet to your daughter, who couldn’t be when she gives you that wide smile of hers, but someone lying to your little girl just rubs you the wrong way. “You shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up like that.” you all but growl at him. Yes, you have a mama bear streak in you and you aren’t ashamed of it.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki can’t understand why coming back is a bad thing when Lilly had looked at him with such innocent hopefulness.

“She’s going to be expecting you tomorrow and when you don’t show I’m going to have to deal with the fall out. It was a dick move.”

Loki’s eyebrows shoot up. He’s been called many things over the past fifteen hundred years, but never a dick. “Who says I won’t be here tomorrow?” he challenges.

You roll your eyes blatantly at him. “Let’s see...” you begin. You’re exhausted and don’t give a shit about a big tip anymore. “You’re not a local, you’ve never had something as common as a grilled cheese or cocoa so clearly you don’t frequent diners, fancy accent, fancy clothes, fancy computer, all still indicating this isn’t your typical hang out place…” You are cut off by Loki’s deep, belly laugh which just makes you scowl harder.

“I’m sorry.” he desperately fights to compose himself. He hates that he’d lost his composure at all. “Sorry, really. I’m not used to that level of honesty. It was… fascinating.”

You blush, realizing how far you had overstepped. He had spent most of the evening placating your daughter and had been nothing but friendly towards you since Lilly took him the cocoa. “No, I’m sorry. I get a little mama bear crazy about people lying to my kid. Her father…” you trail off, “Sorry, again. You don’t need to hear about that. I should be thanking you for keeping her occupied all night.”

“It was no trouble.” Loki says quickly, “She’s charming, really. And I don’t know how much longer your shift is, but I have time to listen. It’s not like you’re packed in here.”

You look around, it’s down to just him and the other waitress is hanging out in the back with the cook. You sigh. He looks genuinely interested and sometimes it’s easier to talk to a complete stranger than your friends, even about the tough stuff. You start out slowly, the story of Max and how you’d come to be a single mom unfolding with practiced calmness. You keep your voice even, refusing to let it come out as a sob story.

Loki listens attentively, his hands steepled under his chin as he leans forward on the counter. He can feel the tension radiating from you and he admires how controlled you keep yourself despite how horrible what you’d gone through was.

“So,” you conclude, “that’s why I had a problem with you promising to come back tomorrow.”

Loki nods sagely. “I feel like ‘sorry’ would be a little trite. But please know that it is my desperate hope that this Max fellow meets a very unpleasant end. Sooner, rather than later.”

The way he says it with a mischievous smirk makes your stomach flip. “You and I both.”

“You’re wrong about tomorrow though.” he adds, the smirk still in place.

“Oh really?” you push, leaning across the counter towards him.

“Yes, really. I do not break my word. I promised I would be back tomorrow and I will be. Right here.”

“Why?” the word is out of your mouth before you can stop it.

Loki’s smirk widens to an almost grin. He’s enjoying your company more than he’d like to admit. You aren’t afraid of him, you have a backbone to you, your bottom lip is distractingly full, and you make him think of his favorite statue in his mother’s garden growing up. He’d spent a lot of time as a boy staring at that statue and you are the living embodiment of it. It took him a moment to make the connection but once he did, it was all he could see. He remembers that you’d asked him a question and forces himself to answer, “As I said, I do not break my word.”

“That easy, huh? You don’t have anywhere better to be tomorrow than coming back here? You don’t even know what time my shift is.”

“I’m going to be staying around here, I know the food is palatable, and there’s free WiFi. Though the service is a little cheeky.”

You laugh, “Cheeky? That’s a new one.”

“Oh, I can think of all sorts of adjectives if you’d like to hear them.” Loki’s tone is bordering on predatory, thrumming with an undercurrent of dark, salacious promises.

Your pulse quickens and Loki doesn’t miss the way your pupils dilate and your breathing hitches for a moment. You swallow your nerves down and square your shoulders, forcing yourself to not get swept up in where the conversation is threatening to go. “So you’re staying around here?” you ask, regaining your balance.

Loki looks almost disappointed but he pulls himself upright, no longer leaning over the counter, and smoothes his t-shirt. “I don’t know just yet. I figured I would check online to see what was around that I could afford.”

“There’s a new boutique hotel about four blocks over. It’s a little hipster-ish but I’ve heard good things.”

“I just need a bed at this point. I’ll worry about something more suitable tomorrow.”

“Then head out to the right, go left at the intersection and then down three blocks. It’ll be on your right, The Hideaway.”

“The Hideaway. Got it.”

“You ready for your check, then?” you’re a little disappointed he’s leaving but it’s lessened knowing he’ll be back tomorrow.

“How much later is your shift?”

“Another hour but-”

“I have an hour to kill.” Loki’s smirk returns and damned if it doesn’t do things to your insides.

Your lips curl up with a smirk of your own and you shake your head at him. He is certainly a charmer. The conversation flows easily and despite your best efforts to learn more about him, he consistently turns the conversation back on you. You’re floored when the other waitress comes in for her shift announcing you’re free to go.

Loki frowns at the intrusion of the other waitress. “I guess I’ll be going as well.” he says packing up his laptop.

You hand him his bill from the pad in your pocket and he flips down a twenty without looking at it.

The bill was barely over $6.

“Let me get your change.” you go to head down to the cash register but his hand slips over yours, stopping your movement.

“No need. Keep it. A thank you for making this night a little less lonely.” Loki releases your hand, trying to reign himself in. He picks up the laptop and is heading out when he hears you call after him.

“I have the dinner shift tomorrow.” you call out, realizing you had forgotten to tell him.

“What time?”

“Three to eleven.”

“I’ll be here.” he promises.

Your smile is wide enough that the other waitress, Mara notices, “Who was that?” she teases you lightly.

“Just some guy. New to the neighborhood.” you play it off as casually as you can.

“Yeah, sure. And that’s why you two were making eyes at each other.”

You snort at her comment, “You’re delusional. I don’t date, Mara.”

“Who said anything about dating? He’s gorgeous and clearly wants to see you again.”

“Nope! Not having this discussion. I have a five year to get home.”

“Fine, good night.”

“Night.” you head back to collect Lilly who is sleeping heavily on the cot in the office. You’re thankful she’s a sound sleeper as you pick her up and head down the two blocks to your little third floor walk up. After you settle your sleeping daughter in to her own bed you make yourself a cup of tea and collapse onto your sofa. You try to focus on the show you put on but your mind keeps wandering back to Loki, wondering if he found the hotel easily and if was settling in okay.

A few blocks away Loki has found the hotel and is getting checked in to his room. He materializes a Midgardian drivers license, falling back on an old alias and paying cash despite their supposed credit card policy. It’s amazing what flashing around several large bills can do. Loki scans the room and finds it to be clean but very small. He misses the palace he grew up in for a moment but reminds himself Asgard is no more and he is just lucky to be alive in this world. He lets out a bitter chuckle as he sits down on the edge of the bed, with no one around to put on airs for he finds no need for the grandeur he usually surrounds himself with.

Loki tries to get comfortable on the overly stuffed mattress but tosses around futilely. It isn’t the mattress, it’s the spinning of his own mind. He’s still coming to grips with the world he has found himself in. The memory of the way your eyes flashed when you were chastising him earlier in the evening keeps fluttering across his mind. It’s quickly accompanied by the feel of your soft skin beneath his fingers and the sound of your voice. Loki knows better than to make any acquaintances until he figures out his next moves. He promises himself tomorrow he will make plans and stop in to the diner to visit and say goodbye properly. Loki finally gives up on sleep, materializing a book to read until exhaustion finally wins out.

Part Three

The next morning Loki wakes late, it’s almost noon by the time he’s heading out from the hotel. He materializes new clothes for himself and goes to a nextdoor coffee shop for something to help wake himself up. The shop is busy, people bustling around, many of them crying or holding on to each other. Loki can sense something is off with what should be a normal weekday morning. He looks at the flat screen TV in the corner where people are crowded around watching the news broadcast. There are images of people spontaneously appearing all around the world and flashes of pictures of the Avengers, including his brother. Loki watches along with the crowd as the anchorman explains what is being called The Blip. Thor and his friends had done it. They had managed to undo the horror that Thanos had inflicted upon the universe and from what the news is saying they are reporting no casualties at this time. Loki feels a swell of pride for his brother, the golden god had triumphed again in the end. He knows he will have to pop back to the Avengers compound and visit Thor eventually, just to let him know he’s alive in this world. It would be unfair to keep it from him. Loki wants to give him a few days to settle things after their victory and then he will go to him. He has enough money to keep himself afloat for a week or so and doesn’t want to intrude on the celebration surely going on back at the compound. Loki takes his cup of coffee to go and wanders until he finds a community garden where he can sit undisturbed to plan his next moves.

The morning of The Blip has been rough on you. Lilly woke up with more energy than ever, making plans to introduce Loki to mac n cheese and begging for new crayons so she could make him the “best drawing ever”. You promise to bring all of her art supplies with you to the diner later and distract her with scrambled eggs and cinnamon toast for now. You’re already exhausted when you sit down to watch the news with your coffee. The news is all covering The Blip and you watch, stunned, as people are reunited with their loved ones. You’re glad for them but you still have to turn it off after a few minutes so you won’t start screaming. Damn Max and what he’d done to you. While it’s the most amazing gift that everyone is back, it pulls at the old scars on your heart made by Max’s abandonment and deception.

You pull Lilly aside before school to explain what has happened. You don’t want her being confused with everyone talking about it in her class. She has lots of questions and you answer what you can despite how it taxes you emotionally.

The morning flies by as you busy yourself with chores and studiously avoiding the news. You’re on your third cup of coffee by the time you pick Lilly up on your way in for your shift at the diner and it’s helping a little. Lilly chatters endlessly along the way about The Blip and it grates on your already frayed nerves but you give her the expected sounds of acknowledgement. The diner is packed full of people, it appears no one is willing to cook on such a monumental day. Lilly settles in easily to do her flashcards and pulls out her newest library book. It’s a simple one, more pictures than words, but her reading skills are improving every day.

Every time the doorbell chimes your eyes snap over to the entrance. You, mostly, trust that Loki will show and are looking forward to seeing him again. Though for all you know he’s off reuniting with family, or maybe even a girlfriend or wife. You frown at the thought. It’s only five minutes but it feels like ages when the doorbell chimes and Loki strides in. He’s wearing similar clothes to the day before but has added a leather jacket to the outfit and his hair is falling freely against his shoulders. Your brain fails you for a moment and you blush as you ask the woman you’re waiting on to please repeat her order. Your eyes follow Loki as he takes his seat at the very end of the counter and sets up his laptop, just as he’d done the day before. You hurry to collect drinks and another persons order so that you can make your way down to visit him.

Loki is no closer to a plan when he walks into the diner than he’d been that morning. It’s frustrating and he feels like he’s crawling out of his own skin at times. Ever logical, Loki has made several lists of where he could go after visiting with his brother but none are very appealing. He has no home to return to and since New Asgard is apparently thriving under the eye of Valkyrie he sees no reason to head there and disturb the peace. Besides, he lost his taste for a throne after the New York incident. He considers traveling the galaxy, doing some exploring for a bit. He’s always loved that, but now some emotion pangs in his chest at the thought, one he won’t put a name to but feels regardless. Loki knows he has no marketable skills, not that he even wants a job, but he will need something to fill his days. He settles into his spot at the counter, scrolling through some inane blog about the places to see while in the city and trying to come up with at the very least a plan for the following day.

You’re finally able to swing down to the end of the counter to Loki and you assess his intent gaze and half frown before speaking. “Is it going to be another hot cocoa day?” you ask sympathetically.

Loki’s frown disappears at the sound of you voice. “I think it is.” he agrees.

“Lilly is going to be ecstatic when she sees you. Do you have work to do? Or can I send her down once she’s done her homework?”

“No, not working at the moment. I’m… taking some time off.”

“Luck you.” you try to keep the bite out of your tone and hope he doesn’t take offense.

“Not having anything to do is great in theory but I’m finding that in practice… not so much.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your next comment to yourself. There is no way you are going to pity the poor, sad, rich guy who doesn’t need to work and doesn’t know what to do with his time. You give him a shrug and head off to get his drink.

“There’s always volunteering.” you suggest as you hand Loki his hot cocoa.

“Ah yes, working but not being paid for it. I’m not exactly skilled in anything to help though.” Loki explains.

You suppress the eye roll you so desperately want to give him. His comment solidifies in your mind that he must be some type of rich model. “You don’t need skills to volunteer at most places. You could help around an animal shelter, keep people company at a nursing home, stock shelves at the library, all sorts of things.”

Loki makes a small humph sound but seems to be considering it.

“Lilly will be done her reading soon and she’ll be down afterwards. If you want anything to eat just wave me down.”

Loki nods as he sips his drink and you slip away before he can respond.

It’s twenty minutes later when Loki sees a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye. Lilly is running full speed down the aisle towards him, hands full of papers. “Mr. Loki you came back.” she beams as she climbs up on the stool next to him.

“I promised I would. What do you have there?” he asks, pointing to her collection of papers.

Lilly spreads them out on the counter and starts showing off her favorites, of which there are six, and the other three that are “just okay” by her standards. Loki smiles and nods along, letting himself be swept away by her enthusiasm. After a depressing day, lost in the bleakness of his uncertain future, this is exactly what he needs.

“This is us.” Lilly points at the last page in her collection.

“I don’t think we have tails.” Loki jokes.

Lilly shakes her head, causing her hair to bounce around wildly. “Nooo!” she squeals between giggles. “It’s kitty us. Kitties with cocoa.”

“Well that makes much more sense.”

The rest of the afternoon passes by with Lilly drawing happily next to Loki while he researches the New York Public Library. The library had been on the list of places to visit and after your suggestion of volunteering Loki is toying around with the idea. He certainly loved the libraries back on Asgard and the one in New York is stunning. He can almost see himself spending his days there, though dealing with the public leaves something to be desired. Loki shakes his head at himself. Is he really considering staying in New York? One look next to him and then down to you at the other end of the diner solidifies the yes echoing in his mind. He’s too intrigued to leave just yet. Loki wants to get to know you better and he can’t imagine breaking Lilly’s heart and just disappearing. He has centuries before him and he can certainly afford to spend a little time on Midgard before moving on to more worthy endeavours.

Lilly somehow convinces Loki to order mac n cheese with her for dinner. You aren’t surprised he’s never tried that before either and you bring them two heaping plates. It’s a little odd that he’s missed out on so many standard comfort foods but chalk it up to his “strict parents” comment and the fact that he has to have been model.

You finally ask him about it after depositing a half asleep Lilly onto her cot in the back for the night. It’s seven o’clock on the dot and Lilly didn’t even fight you on it. “So, what kind of model were you?” you ask, certain of your guess.

You might as well have asked if he used to have six heads. “I beg your pardon?”

Uncertainty starts seeping in, “You used to be a model? Right?”

Loki chuckles, “No, I’ve never modeled. What gave you that indication?”

“Fancy clothes, not needing to work, not having tried the most basic comfort foods, and you know… you know what you look like.”

Loki laughs again. “You keep making the most fantastical assumptions about me. I quite enjoy it. But you are mistaken once again.”

“So, what did you do then?” your cheeks are stained pink with the slightest blush and you can tell Loki is enjoying flustering you.

Loki is hesitant to jog your memory since you clearly haven’t put the pieces together to realize who he is. But if he is going to actually try and stay in New York he needs to be honest. The irony is not lost on him. The trickster, the god of lies, finally desiring to be honest with someone even when it will likely end badly for him. Loki steels himself for your anger and chooses his words carefully, “My family is royalty so I haven’t needed to work. I traveled for a bit in my younger years. Got into a lot of trouble along the way.”

You have a sinking feeling in your stomach. He’s holding something back, you’re sure. The uneasiness is rolling off him like waves and you’re afraid that whatever he’s holding back is going to end whatever is starting between you. “What kind of trouble, Loki?”

“The worst kind, I’m afraid. I was here in New York eleven years ago. I’d gotten involved with the wrong people and couldn’t get out until it was too late. It almost destroyed the city.”

It’s like the floor has dropped out from under your feet. You brace a hand against the counter, steadying yourself. “Loki.” you breathe his name quietly.

Loki swallows hard as recognition floods your face.

“You were in league with Thanos. They said you were a monster.” the name Thanos spits out of your mouth like a curse.

“He fooled even me. I was blinded by my own desire for power and my hatred for Odin at the time. There’s no atonement for what I did.” Your horrified expression makes Loki cringe, “I’ll… I’ll leave now. I’m sorry to have… I’m sorry.” Loki pulls out a large bill from his pocket and collects his laptop and jacket. He’s moving away from the counter when you find your voice.

“No wait.” You call a little too loudly. Thankfully the diner has quieted down for the night.

Loki spins around, surprised.

“You’re not him.”

Loki furrows his brow and comes back to his spot at the counter. He keeps his distance, wary like a caged animal, his voice low and steady. “I assure you, I am.”

You shake your head, “You're not, though. The man who’s sat here the past two days is not the same one who invaded eleven years ago. People change.”

“People died because of me.”

“Would you do it again? If you had the chance now, would you try it?”

“No, of course not.” He tries to say more but you cut him off.

“There you go then. People change. I’m certainly not the same person I was back then. Let’s just get to know each other as we are now.”

Loki is speechless. He expected fear, disgust, hatred maybe, but certainly not this.

You check the time on the wall, “I have a few more hours left in my shift, you don’t have to stay all night again but I like your company.”

“I am quite fond of yours as well.” Loki manages. His voice is uncharacteristically soft and you give him one of your wide, genuine smiles in return.

You have no other customers at the moment so you lean against the counter and settle in. “So,” you begin, trying to divert the conversation to safer ground, “How many pictures were Lilly’s ‘favorite’ this time?”

Loki chuckles and just like that the tension dissipates.

Part Four

Loki spends every night that week hanging out during your shifts at the diner. The other waitresses have begun to tease you a little about him but you don’t feed into it. The routine is always the same. Loki comes in shortly after your shift, starts drinking cocoa or coffee, and orders whatever meal it’s time for when he gets hungry. You spend the quiet moments down at the end of the counter getting to know the real him. It's hard to compare the man you’ve quickly become attached to with the one who attacked New York all those years ago and you feel secure in your decision to look beyond his past.

With a little help, Loki gets a volunteer position at the New York Library and a tiny month by month rental apartment down the street. It’s not much but it’s furnished and he’s happy to have something of his own. He’s moving in next week and has his first library shift a few days later. He knows money is going to be an issue before long and resolves to go see Thor once he’s moved in. Hopefully there is some family loyalty left in his brother and he sees fit to grant Loki access to a little of the family money to get him by while he stays in New York. Though getting Thor to believe his plan is genuine will take some effort.

Monday is your first day off in ten days and as much as Loki insists he’s fine moving on his own you feel a little guilty you’re not there to help. He claims there’s nothing really to move but you at least could have helped with shopping or something. The day crawls by despite how much you are able to catch up on while Lilly’s at school and by the time you’re tucking her in you’re yawning hard. You’ve just crawled into your own bed when your phone chimes.

Loki: All moved in!

The text is accompanied by a picture of a posh looking living room decorated in shades of white, cream, and tan. You hadn’t expected to hear from him but you’re glad he reached out. It was a little odd not talking to him all day. You had given him your phone number the night before just in case he changed his mind and needed your help. Part of you had hoped he would text or call regardless.

You: Great! How does it feel?

You watch as the little typing dots blink almost immediately after your text.

Loki: It’s interesting. Quiet. Tell Lilly I need one of her pictures for my fridge.

You smile as you type.

You: Quiet is good! I’ll tell her tomorrow. Good luck prying one away from her though.

Loki starts and stops typing a few times.

Loki: Can I call?

You: Yeah.

Your phone lights up a moment later.

“Hey you. Too quiet over there?” You say putting the phone on speaker so you don’t have to hold against your ear awkwardly in bed.

Loki sighs heavily, “Yes, a bit. I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“Nope. Lilly is in bed already and I had no plans.”

“Good. Good.”

“Did you need something?”

“No. Yes. I.. ah… I got a little wrapped up in my own head and needed to hear your voice.”

His honesty is disarming. “Oh.”

“Sorry, that was a little blunt wasn’t it?”

“No, it’s okay. It felt a little weird not talking to you all day. So what has you all wrapped up in your head?”

“I’m going to visit my brother tomorrow.”

“Thor?”

“Yes, the one and only. He doesn’t know I’m alive and I owe him that courtesy.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy about that? He’ll be so glad to see you, I’m sure.”

“My relationship with Thor is… complicated. And I don’t know how it’s going to go. I keep thinking of all the millions of ways it can go wrong. I’ve played dead before, intentionally, so I doubt he’ll believe it wasn’t intentional this time. And there’s the whole ‘I’m still a wanted man’ thing. He’ll likely turn me out on my ass. But if he does that I won’t have enough money forever. Maybe another month or two but then what do I do?”

Loki rambles frantically and you can hear the strain of anxiety running high in his tone.

“Loki! Hey!” You cut him off. “Take a breath.” You wait a moment and he doesn’t respond. “Do you want to come over?” It’s a bold offer but he sounds so distressed and you’re not tired anymore.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“I have cocoa. And it’s better than the kind at the diner.”

You can hear his shaky exhale that’s almost a laugh. “Text me your address. I’m putting my jacket on now.”

“See you in a bit.” You hang up and pull yourself from your warm comforters to go heat the milk for cocoa.

Loki arrives barely ten minutes later and you welcome him to your little home. He looks around, taking in the sight of your living room and then your kitchen. You’re stirring the cocoa mix into the pan and he doesn’t try to make conversation, just content to watch you work and admiring how cozy your home seems to him. It’s warm and inviting, lived in looking without being overly messy.

“You’re catching me on a good day.” You tell him as you pour the cocoa into two large mugs. He’s obviously looking around and you’re glad you spent most of the day on chores. “If you’d been here this morning you’d’ve seen a mountain of laundry and about fifty of Lilly’s drawings scattered around.”

Loki shrugs before accepting the mug from you. “I’m not judging. Thank you for letting me come over. Things just snuck up on me today and it was a little much. You didn’t have to invite me over to your home like this.”

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. Why don’t we head out to sit on the fire escape? I have a set of chairs out there and we won’t risk waking Lilly.”

Loki nods and you lead him outside where you set up two lawn chairs for you to sit in. He scoots his chair next to yours and looks up at the sky wistfully.

“Not the view you’re used to, huh?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “No, not at all. But more stars than I would expect here.”

“Tell me about Asgard.”

“You really want to know?” His tone is skeptical. Loki fears talking about his past will remind you of his mistakes and have you giving him the boot. After an afternoon and evening beating himself up about his wrong doings and worrying about his reunion with Thor he needs a little peace and you’re the only one who can give that to him at the moment.

“That’s why I asked. Tell me. Anything. Everything.”

“Well, we certainly had more stars.” He begins.

You wrap your sweater around your shoulders, protecting yourself from the chill in the autumn air. Your cocoa is warming your hands and you lean unintentionally against Loki’s shoulder listening to him describe his home world to you. His voice is rich and smooth like high quality chocolate and you are lost in it. He relaxes the longer he speaks and you’re thankful he seems to be unwinding a bit. Hours later you put your empty mug down and Loki’s hand finds its way into yours. Your twine your fingers between his and smile over at him, the contact making you giddy like a teenager with your first real crush. He carries on, describing the difference between the ocean on Earth and the seas of Asgard.

Eventually it’s too cold to stay outside and you climb back into your apartment but Loki’s heel catches on the window ledge and he tumbles inside with a thud. You shush him and break into a fit of giggles. He’s so awkward looking splayed out on your living room floor and it’s hard to believe this man is royalty, and a god even. Loki brushes himself off and whispers sorry but it’s too late. You can hear tiny feet padding down the hall.

“Mama?” Lilly says sleepily.

“It’s okay, Lilly-pad. Go back to bed.” You assure her but she’s on the move and staring at Loki who is smiling sheepishly down at her.

“Mr. Loki?” She mumbles.

“He came over for cocoa, sweetheart. You just go back to bed. You’ll see him again soon.”

Lilly makes a disgruntled sound and throws herself at his legs in a sleepy hug.

“Goodnight, Lilly.” He says ruffling her hair.

“Night Mr. Loki.” She pulls herself away and heads back down to her room. You hear to door latch and nod to yourself, knowing she’ll be back to sleep in seconds. Loki follows you to the kitchen to place your mugs in the sink. He’s standing closer than he meant to and when you spin around it’s right into his chest. You let out a stifled squeak of surprise and he braces his hands on your shoulders to steady you. You’re both breathing heavily, conscious of the feel of your bodies pressed against one another’s.

Loki is trying to avoid staring at the rise and fall of your chest and the way your pupils are blown wide looking at him. It’s surprise but also, possibly, desire? Your body is so soft against his and he wants to be selfish and explore the curves you’re hiding underneath that bulky sweater. He moves one hand down to the curve of your waist and your breathing becomes more erratic. Tentatively he slides his other hand up to cup your cheek. He’s overstepping his bounds, he’s sure, but he can't quite stop himself.

You’re trembling as he runs his thumb along the side of your cheek. His whole body is tense and humming against yours and it’s driving you mad. He seemed as surprised as you were when you had turned into him but now that the contact is made, neither one of you seem able to break it. You want him; want to pull him against you and work your way up the lithe muscles of his chest, to explore the broad expanse of his shoulders. He’s complicated, and his past is even more so, but you’re too far gone at this point to care. You press your cheek against his hand, your lips parted and you lock your gaze to his.

Loki’s breathing falters when you stare into his eyes. He’ll hate himself tomorrow for being a greedy bastard if he’s wrong but the way your bottom lip drops down looking good enough to bite overrides his common sense. He moves his head closer, angling it slightly so you can’t mistake his intention, and pauses to give you a chance to back out. You nod almost imperceptibly, frozen in place, desperate for him to make his move. It’s enough though and he dives in, crushing his lips fiercely against yours.

You dig your fingers into his sides, anchoring yourself against him as he presses a torrent of kisses to your lips. Loki meant to gentle, he really did, but the second he felt your soft, plush lips against his he was lost. You taste like hot cocoa, sweet and rich, with the unmistakable taste of you lingering underneath. A breathy moan leaves your lips and he groans, pained by his rampant desire. He won’t take you tonight, as much as he wants to. Lilly is home and he doubts you’d let it go so far, so fast anyway. Loki is forcing his hands to stay over your sweater and you’re doing your best to keep yours in place instead of exploring his body like you want to. When he finally pulls back and you stumble apart, gasping for air, you are both grinning like fools.

“That was….” he falters for words.

“Yeah” you gasp out.

“Wow.”

“Definitely wow.”

You both laugh at the state of yourselves and you move back against him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You fit perfectly in his arms and he’s able to rest his chin on the top of your head when you press it against his chest. He pulls you close and breathes in the sweet, floral scent of you. “I should be going. It’s late and you have to get Lilly to school in the morning” he says with a frown.

“I know.” You agree with a frown of your own, “I’m working the late shift tomorrow if you get back in time to visit.”

“I don’t know how it’s going to go. I’ll text you though. And I’ll be by Wednesday after my first library shift. When’s your next day off?”

“Saturday.”

“Don’t make any plans, okay?”

“Making plans for me?”

“Well, you and Lilly. If you’re okay with that.”

Your heart melts at his inclusion of Lilly. He’s so good to her, to both of you really. “Sounds perfect.” You pull away and reluctantly follow Loki to the door.

“Thank you, again, for letting me come over.” He says standing in your doorway.

“Of course. I’m always here if you have a random need for cocoa.”

Loki chuckles, “Yes, there’s something magical about your cocoa. It seems to fix just about anything.”

“Mmm, it does.” You agree with a smirk. “Good night, Loki.” You lean in for one last brief kiss and you pause as you pull back to study his expression. Loki’s eyes are brimming with emotion and you can feel your cheeks heating.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says softly before he turns and heads down the stairs.

You watch him go until he’s out of sight and then close your door, resting against it from the inside. This thing with Loki is still so new and uncertain but it feels so right. You whisper a quiet thank you to the universe, for bringing Loki into the diner and also for the magical, healing powers of hot cocoa.

The End

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