#and then I finally hopefully can get my boiler fixed
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Found out why I've been getting no response to all my emails
Now I gotta send MORE!!! EMAILS!!! (negative!!!)
#oc: bean#sona tag#vent tag#hopefully I will get responses this time bc they should be going to someone who WORKS HERE#and then I finally hopefully can get my boiler fixed#and get Opal!!!
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I’m still not done. I’m at the 5hr mark, it has taken me three days and more than 30 pages of notes to be nearing the end of this finale. I just want to take it in. But one more comment. One moment from that last battle that struck me. This one:
Brennan: On a 16, you must make a tough decision. Do you want to further limit the release of energy, and make the release of energy safer for the physical environs of Avalir and Cathmoira, or do you want to ensure that Rau’Shan and Ka’Mort will be permanently banished from Exandria?
Aabria: Laerryn’s little joke to herself was always that the Heart of Avalir was the thing she inherited but it was too small. She made it bigger, she improved it. She improved the Etheric Net, and built this, and that she was the Heart of Avalir, and she gave everything to this city. But I know what people are fighting to protect and I remember what Quay said about going down with the ship. So. We will ensure it. This will work. Avalir be damned.
Brennan: Avalir be damned. No more mistakes. The names are locked into place. You inscribe the final syllables of the list of all the hundreds of names that Patia learned. They’re fixed into the crystal. This cannot miss.
I want to just … I’m going to bring you all back to one of my favourite movies as a kid, and probably my favourite Disney movie ever, Disney’s Atlantis. There’s a moment in that movie (spoilers) when their massive steampunk submarine is attacked by an absolutely titanic alien leviathan machine, and they’ve been grappled and punctured in its claws. It’s a battle they can’t win, and it will be over in minutes. There is this one second shot of Audrey, the ship’s teenage genius engineer, running through the sub’s flooding corridors and closing a bulkhead door while there’s visibly still a crewman running for it on the other side. Because the one thing that cannot happen is the water hitting the boilers and basically vaporising the ship, and she needs those bulkheads to buy as much time as possible. So, in this split-second shot, she makes this absolutely incredible, awful, stone cold decision to seal this one crewman’s fate to buy the rest of the crew more time.
I want to repeat that this is a Disney movie, and this moment isn’t even commented on. Atlantis has an absolutely amazing body count for a Disney movie that isn’t Mulan (incidentally, also one of my favs). Nobody mentions this moment. But it’s the still moment that struck kid!me most strongly in the entire movie, and I love this entire movie.
Audrey, this tough, mouthy, funny, amazing character, this teenage genius engineer in charge of the most advanced steampunk submarine the surface world had ever produced, made the split-second horrific choice to seal a screaming man’s fate to save as many people as possible.
Laerryn: I remember what Quay said about going down with the ship. So. We will ensure it. This will work. Avalir be damned.
The rest of the cast have already done everything that can be done to get people out, by air, by teleport, by tree. They’ve done everything they can. Avalir is overrun. Cathmoira is hopefully being fully evacuated while the devils stand down. As many crew as possible have gotten out that bulkhead door. But the water is hitting the boilers. We have less than 12 seconds. There is no saving this ship. And maybe we can save the rest of the world.
So Laerryn closes the bulkhead door. Because she’s the only one who can. Because she is the Architect Arcane, and this is her city, and this is her Leywright, and Laerryn has always been the most stone cold, goal-orientated person in the room. In any room. She doesn’t hesitate, because there is no time.
The same damned, hellbound determination that got them into this mess is going to get them out, because the Leywright will work. It was always going to work. She cannot save her city, she cannot undo what they have caused, she cannot put the betrayers back in their box. But she will be damned if they use her city and her work and her life to bring through anything else.
They thought they could come to an Age of Arcanum city, with its Architect Arcane in the full of her powers, and use that city further without her express permission?
No bitch. This Emperor and Empress are going on an expressway flight off this fucking plane no matter who likes it or not.
Kid!me was in heartbroken awe watching Audrey in Atlantis.
And adult!me is in awe watching Laerryn.
I suppose what I’m trying to say here is that Laerryn was always going to be my favourite. Nydas snuck up to probably be joint first, and I’ve been in constant fucking awe of everyone these entire last two episodes. But Laerryn was always going to be my favourite.
#exu calamity#exandria unlimited calamity#episode 4#spoilers#laerryn coramar seelie#disney's atlantis#i have a type#avalir be damned#closing the bulkhead door#engineers#engineers and DAMNED engineers
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I've been reading your work for days and i cant get enough of it!♥♥ is it possible to get a scenario of la and his crew at an island to fill up and either penguin or shachi are able to get their hands on some weed and sneak it past law, take it on board to smoke it but it ends up spreading and everyone except law has gotten high? law has to fix his high af crew while he's so pissed and wanting to slice and dice whoever was the idiot to bring weed on board? 😂😂 would he find out? 😂😂🤣
this is weed anon here, i couldn't fit it in that ask because of character limit, but thank you so much for providing us with really good content and i really appreciate it!♥♥ 🥰 (2/2)
You’re so very precious! I say this nearly every time but I really am glad that you enjoy my content I create! It means so much to me that people do and when I get messages that say stuff like that, it never fails to put a smile on my face :) (also part of me wants to think that Law might want to be part of this little weed party, but he’s the captain and he’s gotta put his foot down sometimes and blah blah blah. But he might keep some for himself when he’s feeling particularly stressed ;) (I’m also aware that this is not exactly how a contact high works, but for the sake of the story, it does)
Warnings: Smoking the weed
Shachi and Penguin looked especially...suspicious today when everyone was out on their town. You walked over to them as they huddled close to each other.
“Whatcha got there?” you tried to peek to see what was in Penguin’s hands. The two of them nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard your voice behind them.
“Nothing!” Penguin nearly shouted out, making him look even more guilty than he already did.
“That doesn’t sound like nothing.” you coo, smirking while you try to reach behind him to grab whatever it is he’s hiding from you. You’re able to snatch it from his grasp and you gasp softly. “Penguin...Is...Is that a weed?”
He’s quick to grab it back and stuff it in his pocket. “Shhhh!” His hand goes over your mouth to keep you from saying anymore. “You’re being so loud!” he whisper yells at you. “You can’t tell Captain we have this, got it?” Slowly he takes his hand away after you nod.
“But what’s in it for me? Do I get to take part?” you raise your brow at him.
Penguin looks to his crewmate Shachi and he nods once. “Alright. You’re in. Meet us in our cabins tonight okay?”
“Gotcha! My lips are sealed.” you make a motion like you’re locking your lips with a key and put it in your pocket.
Later that night, you met the two of them in their room. You opened the door to see Penguin on his knees in front of his bed. He looked like he was concentrating quite hard as he rolled the joint carefully, his tongue sticking out while he did so. Shachi had a lighter in his hand and you brought some things to snack on. You held the munchies up, along with some waters.
“We should probably stay in here for as long as we can. I don’t want to be walking around the submarine while we’re high as a kite.” you chuckled and set the food down.
“Yeah, I don’t want Captain finding out...He’ll give us boiler room duty if he catches us…”
The thought of being down in the hottest room in the sub made you cringe. It was hell down there being in the long sleeved uniform you all wore, so you grabbed a blanket from one of their beds and stuffed it under the door to hopefully keep the smoke in the room. “Do either of you have any sort of air freshener that you could spray?”
Shachi held up a container. “Already one step ahead of you!”
By this time, Penguin was done rolling the blunt and he stood up from the bed. “Finished!” he proudly showed off his decently rolled joint and Shachi gave him the light.
“You can do the honor.” he said as he watched his friend light it and inhale. He tried his best not to let the cough that he was holding in, out but it wasn’t long before the puff of smoke was coughed out.
You and Shachi laughed as he passed the joint along. It didn’t take more than fifteen minutes for it to be completely gone. But in those fifteen minutes, it didn’t occur to any of you that the vents in the submarine were all connected to each other and the smell would be traveling all throughout and giving nearly the entire crew a contact high.
The three of you sat in the guy’s room, munching on the snacks that you had brought earlier after you had sprayed the room thoroughly at an attempt to mask the overwhelming weed scent.
It didn’t take long for the smell to get to Law who, as soon as he smelled it, knew exactly who it was. This wasn’t Shachi and Penguin’s first offense when it came to smoking weed in the submarine. He pushed back from his desk he was sitting at and with a sigh, got up.
Law went to check around, not wanting to immediately put the blame on those two even if he knew it was them. But what he found was nearly everyone who had been in their rooms with red eyes and food spread out around them. Pretty much the whole crew was high, including Bepo who was muttering ‘Sorry... sorry…Captain…’ to himself in his sleep. While he did smell weed in the rooms, it wasn’t as potent as it would be in the whoever’s room it would actually be in.
So off he went to Penguin and Shachi’s room where when he tried to open the door, the blanket that you had shoved haphazardly under it was in the way. Law heard scrambling on the other side, chip bags getting crinkled and water bottles falling on the floor. He sighed loudly, and when he was about to Room himself in there, you kicked the blanket out of the way with your foot and opened the door while leaning against the frame.
“Hey there Captain!” you tried to sound as normal as possible, hoping that the words you were saying weren’t coming out slower than you thought. As soon as you had opened the door, the smell was so overwhelming that he nearly winced. He didn’t expect you to be one of the perpetrators. “So you’re probably wondering what that smell is and don’t worry! Uh, Shachi just wanted me to smell this new cologne that he got and wanted an opinion on it!”
Law sighed again, blinking slowly as he looked to the side to see the bottle sitting on the nightstand. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s Febreeze.”
The room was so silent that he would hear you swallow. Law held out his hand, “Give me what’s left. I obviously can’t trust you with having it on the submarine after I told you not to do it here.”
Penguin slowly sauntered over to his captain and handed him a bag that definitely wasn’t what he asked for.
“Penguin I don’t want your chips. Give me the weed.”
The three of you tried to contain your laughter but you could help but let it out.
“One week of boiler room duty. All of you.” Without another word, Law grabbed the baggie of weed that was on the table and he left the room. But it was like you didn’t even hear him because of how hard you all were laughing. After a few minutes of trying to catching your breath, what he said finally registered and it clicked.
“Wait...did he say boiler room duty?”
What Law wouldn’t mention is the fact the he’d be keeping that little baggie for himself.
#one piece#tw: smoking weed#trafalgar law#trafalgar law x reader#law x reader#trafalgar law headcanons#trafalgar-law headcanons#law headcanons#trafalgar law scenario#law scenario#one piece trafalgar law#One Piece headcanons#op trafalgar law
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Twin Snowflakes 27:Hill climbing preparations
Part 26 here!<-
Rehearsals were going well. With Darren out of mind and no further incidents, students had gotten back into a steady blow of progress. The band was a little shaky at first but Summer had learned that Nick had a point about her being a bit strict in the beginning. With that hurdle jumped, Summer felt comfortable enough to take a short break. Her feet swung from over the stage's edge like a kid on a swing while she took a moment to call Oscar. It had been a few days since their last check in date. The fact that he didn’t blow her fun up meant his own hands were full. Fortunately, two rings was all it took before his face popped up on her screen, covered in what was hopefully seawater.
“Hi Oscar! Ummm sea life treating you will? You look a little…”
“Wet? Sigh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss the cold of the tundra. All the storms and aquatic grimm yanking me off the boat is getting annoying. Anyways, Penny told me you had a little scare recently? Everything okay?”
“Yes, I think.” Summer rubbed her face. “Well…as okay as things usually get. I do feel better than usual. I’ve gotten to perform quite a bit the last couple days.”
“Really? Did you take my advice by any chance?”
A guilty smile found its way on Summer’s face. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nah. I’ve just been singing a couple of covers and a few originals that anyone with a radio has heard. The lyrics in the journal are just that, in the journal. I actually wanted to talk to you about a trick Nick got me to try. You’ve actually mentioned it once before early on.”
“Is that so- woah!” Oscar yelped, nearly falling from the rock of the ship crashing through a wave. “Hehe. Sorry about that!”
“Everything okay over there? I can call later?”
“No it’s fine; just rough seas. That’s good though. Challenging waves and other harsh weather factors have been swelling for quite some time. You’re too young to remember this but Atlas was actually a bit warmer. Hot places were cooler and sailing wasn’t as wild.”
“I’ve heard about that in class. Don’t scientists think it might have something to do with magic being back?”
“Or the gods roaming through Remnant.” He smirked, confident about the latter theory. “Harsh conditions mean it’s difficult to press forward. As if the world itself is trying to keep things away. With a little luck, passing these hurdles are all the answers we need.”
Answers. Summer couldn’t begin to imagine having those. It was more terrifying than reliving if she had to be honest. She wouldn’t know what to do if the gods themselves didn’t know what to do. The only thing worse is them saying she couldn’t do anything.
“Let’s cross our fingers you aren’t on a boat for nothing. Speaking of Shiva, Nick talked me into entering my headspace willingly. I was even able to manifest a shovel in it!”
“A shovel?” Oscar quirked his head.
“Yeah it wasn’t the usual blue empty space. It waslake; the lake as a matter of fact. I chucked a shovel at Shiva and told her to start digging her grave.”
“Nick told you to do that!?”
“Weeeeeeell… he only told me to confront her with unwavering resolve in a way Veronica would. I’m pretty sure that meant being cut throat but I may have defaulted to cock intimidation. Pretty sure I stoked the flames of war. But it felt good!”
The cheerfulness in her tone was genuine. While manifesting and confrontation was something Oscar had tried to get her to do early on, there are ways to go about it. Headspace or not, poking at a beast was always risky. “I’m glad you’re feeling good, but exercise caution. I wouldn’t try that alone. There’s a lot we don’t know about that space. I doubt you can actually die there but if that really is your mind you're traversing then serious backlash might happen if things go wrong. Remember, Shiva has an edge. Don’t let her play you in your own head.”
“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll be careful Oscar. Thanks for worrying about me. Couldn’t ask for a better therapist”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Ruby and your dad give some pretty solid motivational speeches.”
Hehe, don’t sell yourself short. I should probably get going. Good luck! Watch the gods tell you to perform an exorcism or drown me in sacred water.”
Oh if only it was that easy. “If she had any signs of a soul I would’ve tried that already. Take care Summer. Call me when you need me”
“You know I will.” She hung up and looked over at Nick. A few of the girls had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him. In typical fashion, Nick just let them fawn in vain. “Geez, take a hint ladies.” She mumbled.
“Oh my gods! I wasn’t aware you could sing!”
“So talented!”
“Can you sing for my birthday!?”
All the back chatter and compliments made it hard to focus on one person. Nick did his best to calm them all, giving a faux laugh and smile. “Hehe, thanks. I can hold a note, I’m not as good as my sister, and I’m way too sheepish to sing at a birthday. Now we should probably get back to working maybe? Practice is almost-” his eyes caught the door entrance before he finished. Valerie had walked in.
As if by will, her head automatically turned to meet his eyes. Valerie couldn’t help but give some kind of disarming smile, giving a small wave that was quickly rejected when Nick went back talking to the people around him. Not even Valerie could deny that burn. She put her hand down before she felt anymore like an edit, walking over to Eliza to get what she had to do over with.
“Hey soldier.”
“Huh? Well look who finally decided to show! I expect more from a representative of this school.”
“Oh brother…” Val couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m sorry like I usually do. Look, at least I did what was asked of me. Boiler is fixed for now and there should be no problem getting hot water when the big day arrives.”
“Keep a keen eye on it just in case. I don’t have any time to deal with tiny problems during the tournament.”
“Yeah you and everyone else in this room. Now if you excuse me.” Valerie pointed both thumbs back and tried backing up slowly.
“Hold on…”
“Uuugh. Yes? I got plenty of practice to work on. Make this quick.”
Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Wow, someone is more aggressive than usual. If that’s how you’re going to be then I’ll spare you the lecture. Just know you better be careful or I might pull the rug out from under you this year.”
“Hmph, bold words. You gotta make it to the top of the hill before challenging the ruler. Though you’re more than welcome to kick Nick around and take his spot for all I care. See ya. Just text me the meeting information. Got things to do.” Valerie turned around and headed off. On the way out she saw Summer staring at her with a raised eyebrow from afar. To make matters worse, the cheerleaders moved by the exit. Veronica being among them. Valerie was ready for some kind of sly comment but to her surprise Veronica briefly acknowledged her, nodded, and then went back to what she was doing.
Eliza looked at the time and figured everyone made enough progress for one day. “Alright everyone! You can all start wrapping things up. I’m sure all of you have things to-” the sound of everyone packing their belongings overpowered her voice. “Do.” She finished. At least she could trust everyone to clean up on time. “Nicholas, get your butt in gear.”
“Oh thank goodness!” Nick wasted no time squeezing his way through the girls that lingered around him. “Sorry! The VP calls! Let’s go Summer!”
“Right behind you.” She turned towards the band. “It would be a good idea for you all to practice a little longer. Not because you may or may not need it but because I’ll finally give you room to experiment. Just no funny ideas about adding drum solos.” Summer hopped off stage and headed off, quickly catching up to Nick, Eliza, and Veronica. “Well aren’t we an interesting looking bunch?”
“An idol, witch, heir, and fashion designer. This is the beginning of a bad joke I’d say.”
“Bold of you to call someone a witch when they’ve agreed to help you train.”
“Would you prefer magical girl, or maybe sorceress?” Nick nudged her.
“I prefer my name. However…sorceress is endearing, I suppose.”
“I could call you that while you teach me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” She said in a shrill voice. “I’m already regretting this.”
“Well while you two train to death, I’m finally going to get some real shut eye. I can hear my bed calling my name already.”
“Not so fast.” Veronica interjected. “Since we ended up being free at the same time and I have to work a little more diligently…”
Summer didn’t like where this was headed. “Veronica, my hot headed designer, I’m well aware of what it’s like to be a perfectionist. However, please don’t rope me into this.”
All three of them looked at her at once. “It’s your dress!”
“I know that! No need to remind me! I am tired though. It’s Monday, the weekend was crazy, and I just put in a full day of school with extra curricular activities. Allow me two hours at least!?”
“Ugh, ever the whiner. Fine but I don’t want to hear any complaints about design. Most would be thrilled to be heavily involved with their clothing.”
“Well consider this a show of good faith towards your skills.”
The four of them continued to talk all the way to the manor. Eliza tried to stay on important topics while Nick did his best to keep things casual. It never really worked out considering Summer's insistence to not help her dear brother and Veronica’s curiosity about events to come. It was only when the girl’s feline ears twitched by the gate did she begin to quiet down.
“Hmmm?” She stopped immediately.
“Huh? What’s wrong Vee-”
“ACHOO!!!” The girl yelled. The sneeze was so strong Veronica lifted off the ground slightly. “Phew…sorry about that.” She sniffled her loss and continued walking like nothing happened, leaving everyone confused. Veronica was the first to enter with everyone lagging a bit behind. Her eyes looked around until they spotted her mother, Blake, coming down the stairs in casual clothes and wet hair.
“Hey everyone! Finally home I see? And with a friend?”
“Uh classmate. I wouldn’t exac…ummm that’s not important. Hehe, I’m Eliza Marigold.” She stammered. It didn’t really dawn on her that she’d be meeting Mrs. Belladonna herself today. “You look lovely. Though…you look a little red? Are you sick?”
“Oh it’s nothing! Just umm got out of the shower is all.”
Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s ma?”
“Out back with Jaune.”
“Really?”
“One hundred perfect!” Blake said, unusually preppy. “Well I don’t keep you kids held up. I’ll be in the living room. Nick, Summer, I think your mother is in the garden.”
“Cool. She must be setting up the candle test already. Follow me Eliza.” Nick took her hand and guided her.
“Think I’ll get lost or something?”
“No, I just don’t need you judging every inch of this place until you find something to criticize.”
“……It’s too bright in here.” She heard Nick snicker at her attempt. “You suck.”
With those two out of the way it was time for Summer to mosey to her room. “Finally, nap time!”
“Don’t you wanna practice too?”
“What they’re doing is something I already know. Besides, Nick and I do most of our practices separate. He’ll get me when he needs me. Wake me up if you need anything.”
Veronica waited for the girl to get out of sight before giving her mom a look meant to inspire shame and embarrassment. “Really? We’ve been out all day ya know? You had plenty of time.”
Blake put her hand over Veronica’s face. “Shush your face. It happens sometimes. Thank you for the heads up.”
“Y’all are gross but that’s nothing new. I won’t mention it again if you could bring dinner up to my room. I’m gonna be spending quite some time in there.”
“Even across the world I guess some habits don’t change. Deal.”
xxxxx
In the garden, Weiss stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee. The sound of footsteps behind her caught her ear. She was more than a little surprised to learn that they belonged to not just Nick. “Eliza?”
“Mrs. Schnee. Thank you for allowing me in your home.” Eliza gave a curtsy.
“How’s your father?”
“Oh you know him, always up to something.”
Weiss wasn’t sure if that was good or bad considering his track record. “I see. Well make yourself comfortable. Nick, everything is already set up. Never would’ve thought this is how you’d try to get this done. Don’t push yourself.”
“Heh, push myself? Me?”
Weiss playfully rolled her eyes and left the balcony, ruffling Nick’s hair on the way out. Nick looked at Eliza confused. “You know you don’t have to be so formal around her, right?”
“Let’s not focus on my speech and pay attention to why we’re here. Anyways, how does this training work exactly?”
Nick walked to the railing to point at the fifteen candles spread throughout the garden. “The goal is to light all the candles at once without burning anything. It’s harder than it looks. It requires timing, speed, accuracy, and control above all.”
“Never took you for one who cares much for traditional methods of fighting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use your glyphs to manipulate the elements.”
“Yeah, because I suck. Summer on the other hand…” He hunched over in defeat. “Not so much.”
Eliza couldn’t help but scan the area multiple times. This couldn’t be all there was to it. Could it? The five candles in the actual hedge maze looked a little challenging, but Nick was…Nick! Despite her reservations about his attitude, he was smart and knew how to work.
“Do you increase the candle amount as you go?”
He nodded. “That’s the natural progression. Summer can do thirty without thinking much about it.”
“Meanwhile you can’t even do half that amount. You sure you’re the older twin?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He pouted. Nick grabbed his sword and got into his low stance.
“So I’m just supposed to observe you?”
“No. I’m going to need help with the fires too.”
That’s not something she wanted to hear. “Tsk, alright. But first, let me see if I’m able to do it. Wouldn’t be that good of a teacher if I couldn’t.”
She climbed on top of the railing to get a better look. She raised her right hand to the sky and took a breath. Five flames ignited her fingertips as she thought of the best approach. Moments later, Eliza launched all five with a downward swing, another five swing left, then the final five to the right. Each flame danced on the winds below them before finding their targets.
Amazed, Nick’s jaw dropped for a second before saying anything. “First try!?”
“Not exactly. You did say all at once so that may have been cheating. Let me try again.” She wrapped both arms around herself then swung them out, causing a gust of wind that blew out the candles.
Nick watched closely. Breathing, posture, line of sight; anything he could to gain knowledge. Eliza cuffed her hands together. A small flame flickered into existence and grew slowly until it was the size of a baseball. Eliza threw it over the garden underhanded. The moment it reached max height she pushed her hands downwards like if she closed a lid. This made the flame split apart into embers that fell quick enough to reach each candle. Nick couldn’t believe she was two for two.
“Seems I got the hang of it.” Eliza blew the candles out and hopped off the railing. “I’d do it while off the railing but I’m positive we know the results.”
“Yeah no kidding. While I’m lucky I picked the right person to help me, doing that so easily kinda stings. Not gonna lie. You really are a sorceress.”
“Tsk, flattery gets you nowhere. Assume your stance.” She ordered. Eliza kept a close eye on Nick. He opted to square his feet with his shoulders, a sturdy stance for sure. “So far so good.” His blade pointed up and outwards. A red glyph began to form at its tip, conjuring a ball of intense flame that was as big as a softball. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. She could not believe what she was watching. “You’ll miss.”
“Huh?” Nick said, trying to focus.
“If you shoot the fireball then you are going to miss.” Eliza channeled a silver orb in her palm that bursted into shimmering light. Nick’s glyph suddenly vanished and took the fireball along with it.
“Hey! Don’t just negate my semblance out of the blue! I didn’t even shoot it yet!”
Eliza wasn’t sure what she had expected from this training. It was clear now why a talented person like Nick was fumbling. Frankly, it was annoying. Down right inexcusable. Eliza folded both her arms. “You’re so idiotic in the strangest ways possible, you know that right? To think you’re stronger than me?”
Nick huffed. This wasn’t constructive at all. “You gonna actually help, or continue to insult me? If I knew how to do this on my own then I wouldn’t ask for help.”
Nick ran his hand through his tangled hair and let out a sigh. Eliza could tell he genuinely had no idea what was wrong. It kinda got to her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be picking on you like that. You weren’t wrong to ask for help.”
“Normally I have an inkling of how to progress but I’m hitting a wall. All of this is just…”
“Too much?” Eliza leaned over and thumped his head. “Because it is. That’s exactly your problem. You are doing far too much at once. Why are you trying to do so many steps at the exact same time?”
“What do you mean at the exact same time? All I did was make a fireball.”
Eliza could feel her eye try to twitch. “Okay. I should’ve expected that from you. Guess I’ll teach by showing.” She stood beside Nick and made a flame. “See? Now this is as basic as it gets, just straight up fire. A fireball requires controlling the shape of the flame;maintaining its heat as well.” The flame swirled around itself to make just that.
“Okay? I’m following you so far.”
“If a fireball was all you were making then no big deal. However, I just saw you attempt to make a fireball that has to keep its shape, burn hot enough, long enough, and must be aimed at multiple targets at once. No mind can do all that on a dime. It’s simply too much.”
Nick watched Eliza move behind him, putting her arms right on top of his, guiding his movements as if she was holding his blade. Her chin rested on his shoulder to get a clear line of sight. Nick was no stranger to being led through an attack, but man was it weird to have Eliza this close!
“Ummm…”
“Bear with it and focus.” She uttered, trying not to yell in his ear. “Make a flame. Just a flame. Let it heat swell and dissipate in sync with my breathing.”
“Shouldn’t it be with my own?”
“Not when your heart is beating like a drum. To think Nicholas Schnee would lose composure from a girl touching him?”
“Can’t hear you, focusing.” He was trying anyway. Eventually he managed to slow his heartbeat. He could tell Eliza was taking deep breaths on purpose to help. In sync, he made another fire glyph as she ordered.
“Good, now make it as hot as you want, then make it into a ball.” The flame shaped into the size of a baseball this time. Eliza smiled. “See how easy it is to control the size after you’ve completed the previous steps? You’ll save dust this way.”
“What’s next?”
“Aiming. You already know where your targets are but you also aren’t in a rush. If you need time to make a shot then all you have to do is make the time.” Eliza raised Nick’s sword higher in the air. “Launch it into the air, confirm where you need the fire to hit, then guide the flames to it.”
Nick took a deep breath and launched the fireball ball in an arch over the garden. He waited for it to reach the middle and fall briefly before making it burst into smaller flames that hit the candles. Eliza finally let go so he could pump his fist into the air.
“Woohoo!”
“Don’t celebrate yet, but good job. A moving target would be harder but not impossible. Repetition will allow you to eventually group certain steps together without having to think about it. You’ll get used to making fireballs that are a certain size and speed as long as you allow yourself to process each step as you are now. I noticed you let the fireball fall. Why?”
“I always end up not lighting them all because the fire dies too quickly. I realized the flame wasn’t hot enough the moment I shot it, so I let it get closer to the candles before having to split it up. Good thing you told me to aim higher or I may not have noticed.
“He can process things like that but not realize breaking the steps up will make things easier? How does his brain work!?”
Another gust of wind blew the candles out. “I’m willing to help you further but I think it’s time you held up your end of this bargain.”
“Antsy, aren’t we? Fair enough.” Nick put his sword down and sat on the railing. “What I’m about to tell you is going to make your tournament life a hundred times simpler. This is your second King of The Hill. Remember the rules?”
“Of course I do.” She followed his lead and sat down as well. “All previous tournament and combat skills leading up to the tournament are calculated so they can rank you compared to the other contestants. In order to progress higher you must defeat the person directly above you in the rank to switch places. Those who win are rewarded a reprieve from being challenged immediately to decrease rematches, but the loser can be challenged by whoever is directly below them. Conversely, if you challenge a person and lose, then you have to wait a set period before trying again while defending your current spot. The entire tournament is on a time limit that tests endurance, strategy, and the skills you’ve used all year. The winner is whoever is ranked number one by the end; the king of the hill.”
“Correct! It’s pure chaos. However, you forgot an important thing. You’ve participated once and managed to get third, so that’s automatically where you start.”
Eliza’s eyes lit up. “That’s a rule!?”
“Yep. As long as you still participated in prior tournaments this year, which you have. Congratulations on skipping the taxing part. Now you’re in the grueling section. The only way you go up is through me and Valerie. A slip up could cause you to waste too much energy and that could drag you out of third if you lose or even win against me immediately, because if I get challenged and win, then I can challenge you again before you challenge Valerie or after you hypothetically lose to her. Let that sink in for a moment.”
Eliza could feel her heart drop to her stomach. If she were to beat Nick and lose to Valerie then at best she’s at a third of her strength for a rematch she doesn’t want. Beating Nick was a goal but she didn’t need to do it twice in a day! The worst part is she is at his mercy in this scenario; getting a reprieve only if he needs one. He could very well best her and then she’s even more tired defending third place.
“Is it sinking in? Third place is its own special hell. Let’s knock Valerie into it.” He smiled.
“And how do we manage that exactly?”
“By knocking me into it! I want to take a dive in our match. A good one. The two of us will put on a spectacle to show our might that ends with me losing. This will throw everyone off into thinking you are exceptionally strong and-”
“Are you saying I’m not!” She folded her arms.
Nick chuckled nervously. “Let me finish before you get upset. Yes, you're strong, but will think you’re stronger than me by a decent margin. This is where the mind games kick in because the two of us haven’t actually used that much energy, but the other contestants don’t know that.”
Eliza rubbed her chin. “You…want them to fight you?”
“Exactly. No one's gonna pass up the opportunity to get a leg up on me. You know that better than anyone. Unfortunately for them, I’ll actually be trying against them and I fully intend to go end them quickly. This does multiple things. It makes the gap between the top three look bigger, allows me to stir the lower ranks rotation, keeps you rested, and makes Valerie anxious because you will not immediately challenge her. We are going to burn time until it gets to a point that once she’s knocked out of first, getting back up will be nearly impossible.”
“I fail to see how that’s possible. If she’s rested-”
“That’s just it, she won’t be. You can challenge her freely and not worry about me for most of the tournament. Use the time to learn how to fight her then I’ll challenge you again and win, then immediately go fight her. You’ll briefly be back in third place but fourth place holders will be exhausted and think twice about challenging you, Eliza Marigold; the person who beat Nicholas Schnee.”
“You made a safety net for third”
“I made a safety net for you! I will beat Valerie so she’ll fall to second place and that’s where you jump in to knock her to third. By that point she’ll have to wait and losing twice in a row is gonna give people ideas. Even if she beats them it’ll be a race against the clock and you can challenge me to avoid fighting her if it comes down to that. Boom, guaranteed second place for you with a potential at first place.”
The plan was insane, daring, and yet clearly thought of. “This is…a lot. Not to mention not full proof. What if I actually don’t need you to weaken Valerie and can take first place for myself?”
“Then by all means take it. I’ll knock Valerie to third myself and then fight you. Careful though. If I win you’re stuck with her and plenty of time you have to stall.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I refuse this off altogether?”
“That’s fine. We’ll just all have to do our best.”
“Your entire plan hinges on you beating Valerie. What if-”
“I’ll win.” He deadpanned. “I can take her this year. No questions about it.”
He started giving that same exact look he did a few days ago. “Not that I’m not interested but this feels a little unlike you.”
“Is that bad? People are always saying I’m too soft around Valerie. This is a tournament and there’s no rules against teamwork. You in?”
He hopped down and extended his hand. Nick did his best to seem casual about all of this but it was clear to Eliza he was pretty frustrated at Valerie. It wasn’t her place to pry. If he was willing to go this far then she might as well keep an eye on the entire thing. A chance to progress, and a good event. As long as those two things happened without incident then she had no reason to object. Then there was the other problem. She already helped him train…Eliza shook his hand.
“Glad to do business with you. I guess it’s only fair now that I give you the choice to stop training me. Wouldn’t want this to feel like I’ve gained so much tangible progress while yours relies on-”
Eliza tossed him his sword. “Quit with the chivalrous act. If I don’t train you to my standards then I’m positive your plan is bound to fall apart. Helping you here can only benefit me, or did you already forget I could teach you a thousand ways to improve your glyphs and still even the playing field?” She made another silver orb.
Nick gulped. He actually did forget how big of a pain in the ass it was gonna be fighting her. Semblance training doesn’t mean much if you can’t use it. “Have I ever told you that you can be terrifying and comforting at the same time?”
“Nobility should be just that. It’s why people like your face so much whenever you look like you beat the crap out of somebody.”
“People like my face because I’m handsome!!!”
“Less chitchat. More candle lighting.”
Nick hunched over in defeat. Marigolds, what can you do with them?
#rwby#rwby au#nicholas schnee#summer schnee#oscar pine#weiss schnee#blake belladonna#eliza marigold#val valkyrie#rwby twin snowflakes
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The Gateshead Engine
If you bought the itch.io game bundle for racial justice and inequality a month ago, one of the games it contains is a single-player ttrpg called The Gateshead Engine by Adam Roy (Follow the link to buy and play yourself!)
The basis of the game is simple: It is Victorian England, and you have been commissioned to built a steampunk mech. You flip cards from a tarot deck to give you situations for your diary entries, and you can finish...basically whenever you want.
I enjoyed it greatly, and wanted to publicly share my game. Content warning for a bit of body horror and minor surgical stuff at the end? It’s not like, explicit though. Anyway, I haven’t stretched my horror muscles in a while, and I love how this game started vs where it ended. Hope y’all enjoy!
Starting Questions:
—Who are you, and why did you agree to build the Engine?
I am Loreley Weisel, German thermodynamicist on the brink of bankruptcy. Europe is corrupt, and my will careens towards destruction.
—Who is your patron, and what, if anything, do you know about them? Why did they tell you they wanted the Engine?
My patron is an English aristocrat, Thomas Boroughshire III. All I know is that he has deep pockets and a fascination for thermophysics. He wants my Engine as a mechanical marvel, a party trick for a boy with too many years behind him.
—What is your community like? What do they value and what do they fear?
The community is wealthy. Large estates line a well-kept road. Dogs are bred. Horses are shoed. Foxes are hunted. Gardens beg for release from their clipped restraints. The air itself is made of brick. They value stability, power (or the projection of it), and greed.
—What will the Engine do when it’s completed, and what will it change? (This may shift during play; for now, decide what you think the answer is when you agree to build the Engine.)
My Engine is a herald of death. The aristocracy will be beaten into submission, and England will follow France in the march towards the guillotine.
My Engine:
Diary:
Monday, April 26, 1880—
I do not belong here, in this kingdom, in this estate, in this…garage. Hope’s Paradise is far from the largest house in this community, and His Highness can barely provide enough space for me to work. He does not respect me, nor does his staff. Dinners will be cold on nights I work late. There will be no hot water when I go to draw a bath. They do not want me here.
Fitting enough; I do not wish to dwell here any longer than I have to.
The neighbors are no better. Squire Duncannon of Blah Blah Blah invites me to speak German whenever he harasses me with what he calls conversation, but refuses to use the tongue himself. His wife has never uttered a word beyond her scowl. When I pass by Covington Place, the children stop and watch, twittering among themselves. I wonder what the Duke and Duchess have told them about me. I would not know, for I have never been allowed inside their gates.
England will burn, and this wretched grove of greed will be the tinder.
Wednesday, April 28, 1880—
That godforsaken child has entered my workshop again. Grease smeared all across the floor. Handprints of coal dust cover every box and bench. Every fire hazard should come at the cost of a finger. The little brat will have nubs by week’s end.
Friday, April 30, 1880—
Saturday, May 1
A song. Melancholic, but strong. Thunderous, but ephemeral.
How many hours have slipped by tonight? Dream grips my mind like a starving urchin with hardtack. Maybe these gears and pipes are singing me a lullaby.
Oh for heaven’s sake it’s half two. To sleep with me.
Tuesday, May 4, 1880—
Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. Every thief with deep pockets thinks themselves a scientist just because they bought opium from one once. I know how to build my Engine. Fuck off with this talk about gas compression. My math is sound, and changing one element means redesigning the entire boiler system.
His Highness has been placated with some minor aesthetic downgrades that better cater to his asinine tastes. For now.
Wednesday, May 5, 1880—
Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. If it weren’t for the coal dust handprints, I’d think he was the child ransacking my workshop with relentless fervor. Instead, he has simply decided to rearrange my supplies to the garage entrance. My ankle will heal in a few days, but I cannot work on my Engine until it mends. Time is money, and he has more money than I have time.
Sunday, May 9, 1880—
The ankle works.
Monday, May 10, 1880—
His Highness invited his dearest, most important friends to dine in his atrociously cultivated garden. The Wells boy snuck off and found me in my workshop. I have never met another child like him. His curiosity is insatiable, and he knows more about thermodynamics than most learned men I’ve met.
He asked me a question I could not answer: “If this machine is meant for war, how can you fight a navy with it?”
I suppose this will be a larger problem when the revolution hatches from England and threatens the mainland. For now, I must keep focused on this single-minded task. If we make it that far, I will find an answer.
…Perhaps I am naïve and misguided.
Wednesday, May 12, 1880—
The entire community has decided to roll their porcine asses to the south of France for holiday. Such a shame I contracted a bit of a cough and elected to stay here to recover. The travel would have been much too hard on my delicate frame.
Two weeks of uninterrupted work begins tonight.
Friday, May 14, 1880—
For. Fuck’s. Sake.
Her Highness fainted at the pier moments before they were to board a ferry across the Channel. Feared she had come down with the same pestilence I had contracted. Now the entire extended Boroughshire rabble is returning posthaste.
The quiet? Gone. Their need for attention? Only I can sate it. My Engine? Still incomplete, and will be for some time.
If I drown myself in enough whiskey, the mystery of my death should keep their tiny minds occupied for at least a week.
I intend to refill my lamps and work as long as I can tonight. May their arrival home tomorrow wake me at noon for all I care.
Saturday, May 15, 1880—
I was awoken at nine in the morning. Forty minutes of unrestful rest.
Tuesday, May 17 18, 1880—
Knocked the fucking lamp looking for my pen. Lucky I didn’t burn this entire estate to ash.
…Perhaps unlucky.
He even haunts my dreams, touching my Engine and reducing it to rust at the moment that should have been my victory. What Hell of idiocy have I gotten myself into? Fucking aristocrats standing in the way of their own downfall by sheer incompetence. Back to sleep with me.
Tuesday, May 18, 1880 (again)—
I’ve read a number of fascinating papers that I received in the mail today. While I admit I know little of the burgeoning field of electrical engineering, the work being done in the States is fascinating. I intend to take a short trip into London to seek more research (And get a right stein of beer; this house and its occupants are worthless.)
Friday, May 21, 1880 (London)—
I have been granted access to ~~Royal~~ archives. Despite my distaste for locking knowledge away from the public, I am nonetheless grateful for this opportunity. All the kingdom’s brightest minds (what few there are) have recorded years of research on every possible thread of science.
Galvanic principles are fascinating to me. To think, all these thousands of years, we have had electricity inside us! Thoughts percolate, but I do not yet know to what end.
I shall return to the cursed Golden Land in the countryside tomorrow. Between my notes and a few papers, I have been allowed to abscond with, I am reinvigorated with hope for my work.
Saturday, May 22, 1880—
I should extricate and boil every last one of their tongues!
The entire community’s patriarchs were waiting in the living room of Hope’s Paradise (Clearly not my hope.) Word got out of my project, and every cock-waggling primitive decided that this was a matter that required ending their holiday early. While their offspring splash in the Mediterranean, their sagging eyes are now fixed on that fucking garage.
I don’t know who is merely curious, who else feels inadequate enough to lie about their scientific credentials, or who wants to break my Engine merely because I’m a woman. Too many men in my workshop. Had I less restraint, an axe may have been all I needed to solve this annoyance.
Hopefully the dullards bore sooner than later. I may need to beat Mr. Duncannon with a German dictionary regardless.
Tuesday, June 8, 1880—
Between the constant need to shun nosy men from my workshop and the actual work itself, I have not had the constitution to keep my diary.
But today…ah, today! The control platform appears to be totally functional! I have toiled too long to have failure spring from my fingertips. Rotational velocities are stable, cranks and gears are greased and mobile, the Gatling guns are…gatling.
For the first time since I began my work here, I feel like I have accomplished something great. The aristocracy’s days are numbered.
Monday, June 14, 1880—
Work continues to sap my focus. Boiler…not cooperating. I fear I will lose all the work I’ve done on it due to some unforeseen flaw. A redesign at this stage would be costly, but so would continuing with a faulty boiler. Either way, I’m taking tomorrow off from work to clear my head.
Thursday, June 17, 1880—
Time off has proved productive. I finally finished reading the documents on loan from the ~~Royal~~ archives, and there is a fascinating bit of research by a man by the name of Frankenstein. His work on galvanic sciences from earlier this century are far beyond anything I’ve found from English archives in the last decade. This even only seems to be his initial work; perhaps I can track down his true masterpieces of intellect. Maybe I don’t even need to redesign a boiler…
One blight on my day over lunch: that coal-handed bastard child has returned. I think it’s Constance.
Wednesday, Jun 23, 1880—
The Andersons down the way lost one of their bitches last night. She was a beautiful hound, but her memory will live on in my diary. I wanted some hands-on experience with Frankenstein’s work, so I was able to procure the corpse for a small fee (to His Highness who is paying my bills).
Wondrous! Such are the things I learned. A body, made of muscle, controlled by electricity. I suspect I may need to seek out an anatomist or some other scholar of the biological sciences to continue this research.
My mind is alight with so many ideas…
Wednesday, June 30, 1880—
June ends and takes the boiler with it. My Engine shall have a grand new design. Thomas has been placated by promises of surprise. “The most groundbreaking work in thermodynamics!” I lied. His is a mind easily led astray by spectacle.
Sunday, July 4, 1880—
Constable came round today. Mr. Duncannon hasn’t been seen in three days. He left for an important business meeting in Paris, but missed his boat. Coach is missing too. It’s all very curious. I did everything I could to keep that sniveling pig out of my workshop. Given the way his nose recoiled into his skull, it seems the stench of grease and ozone was enough.
In more academic news, I received notice that more of Victor Frankenstein’s research papers are being released from an archive in Switzerland. I should have them by week’s end. My excitement radiates like the sun.
Friday, July 9, 1880—
Wolfgang. Heinrich. Fuchs.
At my forsaken door. With my forsaken research papers.
How the fuck did he find out I was working on galvanism? Who is he still connected to? Which one of my friends betrayed me (besides him)?
He was in this fucking house asking me fucking questions about my fucking work. Fuck him. He better not stick around. After what he took from me…fuck.
Tuesday, July 13, 1880—
Chaos reigns.
Wolfgang has shacked up with the Andersons. He swings by almost daily. When I’m not actually busy, I try to look it.
Constance has gotten her hands into the coal again (I haven’t disposed of it for appearance’s sake.)
The Duncannons are planning a funeral for…whatever his name was. I don’t think I ever bothered to remember anything about him other than when he would finally leave this hellish corner of England.
Thomas has been migrating in and out of Hope’s Paradise. Something about a trade deal in India. It sounds very important for a man who makes riches off the backs of foreigners.
I could use a big stein at a small biergarten.
Sunday, July 18, 1880—
Widow Duncannon speaks! Her first words spoken to me in the months I’ve resided her are accusations that I have something to do with the death of her husband and his driver. Utter nonsense. The police found the driver at the bottom of a pint in a pub last week. The way gossip echoes around these families, however, I won’t be surprised if they begin to turn on me.
My work must accelerate.
Thursday, July 22nd, 1880—
Widow Duncannon, Duchess Byron. Mrs. Boroughshire. All the Andersons. None of them will speak to me. They glare if they see me, so I try to keep to my room and my workshop as much as possible. I’m lucky Her Highness is so subservient to Thomas. This house would be unbearable if she had any willpower over it.
Tuesday, July 27, 1880—
Celebrations are in order! I have poured over work by Golgi, Frankenstein, and Schwann. Every guide I could find on electrical engineering. Trial after trial, failure after failure. And yet…
And yet.
It’s not that I have hope my Engine will work, it’s that I have knowledge that it will. My designs are so clear to me. My protypes are all working as planned. The path to revolution has been laid out before me. Now it is up to me to walk it.
Tomorrow is the beginning of the end.
Wednesday, July 28, 1880—
Coal hands. Inside my workshop. Inside. My. Workshop. And this time, ha! This time, I have a culprit.
I made it very clear to Constance that she will not be loitering in my laboratory anymore.
Saturday, August 7, 1880—
What have I become?
Why did I begin building my Engine? Something about a war? Who can say. Time marchers onward. My Engine will march with time. Every experiment has made it clearer to me that I have stumbled upon the greatest discovery of this era.
No one celebrates with me. Not Thomas. Not Her Highness. Not Constance, nor the boys, Timothy and Franklin. Even Wolfgang is silent (at last).
The neighbors have stopped visiting. I wave when I pass them by, but they just sneer and hurry past. Finally, I can work in peace and silence. Finally my genius can become reality. Finally all of Europe will know what Loreley Weisel is capable of.
I have become the herald of great change, a conduit of the very building blocks of existence.
Tuesday, August 10, 1880—
A toast to the Duke and Duchess! May their patronage live forever in my greatest work! Soon I hope to bring the Andersons into this project as well.
Wednesday, August 18, 1880—
The Engine lives! The support of this community has been invaluable as the final construction has occurred. Everyone has poured their hearts into my work, and it’s truly a masterpiece that could not have been built alone.
My galvanic calibrations have been finalized. My circuits have been tested. It is nearing time for me to put all of myself into my work. I will see success.
Saturday, August 21, 1880—
The loneliness is getting to me. Not even the dogs bark anymore. I talk to my Engine, but its flesh is silent.
Monday, August 23, 1880—
The constable returned. With six policemen. He had questions about His Highness and the Duke and Duchess and Widow Duncannon. I told him the truth: I could help him find them.
I cooperated.
I have a surplus.
Wednesday, August 25, 1880—
Why shouldn’t I? It worked for them. Shouldn’t it work for me? All the principles are the same. They’re muscle. I’m muscle. They’re electric. I’m electric. Why shouldn’t I be in control?
Thursday, August 26, 1880—
Wolfgang, that bastard! He said he knew everything that I had been up to. That is outrageous! He knows nothing!
I have destroyed my room in rage. Fucking Fuchs! What does he think he knows? Who has he told? I should have killed him. Why didn’t I kill him? He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve my creation. He covets it. He wants it for himself. I know it. He got me kicked out of university, he got me run out of Germany. He is jealous. Jealous! He knows I’m better. He knows I’m smarter. He wants what I have, my Engine, my child. He can’t have it. He can’t. He won’t. Where did he go? Fucking Wolfgang I will fucking kill him. He knows nothing. He’s bluffing. He just wants my success. My genius. He is nothing. He will be nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He nothing. Nothing. nothing nothing nothing noth
Sunday, August 29, 1880—
This will be the final entry to my diary. The morning air is heavy with the musk of summer. It’s strange to me how calm I am given what I am about to do.
My Engine has come so far from its days as a sketch on a piece of parchment. Veins of red pulse behind the metal. Sinew, steel, and lightning working in harmony. Every stitch and every suture as perfect as the one before it. So many died for its creation, and so many more will die when I am finished today.
I expected my hand to shake more as I inked the incision lines across my skin. I expected my mind to be foggier as I tried to remember every nerve that would need work. Even the pain I am about to endure has not shaken my resolve.
I am uncertain what the scientific community will think of my work. Of the sacrifices I made. But I have proven a radical truth: All the money in the world does not stop one from being built from the same parts as another. And that’s all we are: Animals with organs and muscles and electricity surging through us. If machines can harness that energy, why can’t we? If new machines can be invented, why not new humans?
All I can hope for now is that my composure holds through the entire procedure. Once I am integrated into my Engine, I will command a mind and body unseen by man. Unparalleled by any of God’s creation. Magnificent in its genius. My genius.
Today I will change humanity forever.
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Gene Pool
(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)
Word count: 2917
Prompt: Speaks in a terrible Shakespearean/Elizabethan style to woo/make the other laugh
———————
A loud groaning noise vibrated through the walls of the theater, catching Anne’s attention as she was getting dressed to leave after that day’s evening show. To her left, Aragon wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“They still haven’t fixed those damn pipes?” She said. “Some high quality theater this is.”
“I think it’s fine,” Cleves shrugged. “It’s fun to tell young fans that it’s a ghost.”
“Of course you would do that.” Anne laughed.
“Shall we wait for you?” Aragon asked the green queen, as she and Cleves had finished changing.
“Nah, go without me,” Anne said. “I’ve got some things to do.”
In which, those “things” were cheering up a certain blonde girl.
Anne noticed Joan acting rather stressed and aloof for awhile, but it wasn’t until she spiraled into a panic attack out of nowhere the day before that she finally decided to really do something. She was going to treat the poor music director to a dinner of her choice and just be there for her, and hopefully get the truth of her current state out of her in the process.
“Oh, m’lady!” Anne chirped, prancing into Joan’s dressing room. “Gath'r thy belongings, mine own lief! It’s timeth to wend!”
She stopped in the doorway, noticing that Joan was still in her costume.
The girl didn’t acknowledge her...or maybe she didn’t even hear her. She just remained hunched over her desk. Anne thought she may have been asleep, as she did sometimes nod off, but she saw the subtle twitch of her shoulders and heard the smallest sniff emit from her timid music director.
“The young wench gaveth nay cleareth response.” Anne narrated. She dramatically leaned against the wall. “Ign'r'd by mine own owneth kin! Thee curs'd robe stealeth'r! How couldst thee doth this to me?!”
No response.
Anne pursed her lips and stepped closer.
“Prithee! Doth not doth this to me! Pri— Joan?”
Anne stopped her charade when she heard the tiniest whimper. In an instant, her maternal instincts are kicked in and she sets a hand on Joan’s shoulder, which causes a second whimper to bubble up. Then, Joan is twisting around in her chair and burying her head against her stomach, weeping.
“Anne— Oh, Anne, I-I messed up! I-I thought I could—” Joan’s strange babbling broke off into incoherent sobbing.
“Hey, hey,” Anne wrapped her arms around the trembling girl. “Hey, shh... Shh... It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” Joan ripped away. Her eyes are wide with terror. “I-it’s not okay! I-I...”
She looked down at her hands as if they were drenched in blood and broke down into a fresh fit of tears.
“Come here, sweet girl...” Anne gathered Joan back into her arms and held her tightly. She rubs her back comfortingly. “Shh, shh... I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
“A-Annie,” Joan squeaked out. “I-I’m s-so sorry...”
“It’s okay, Joan. You’re allowed to cry.”
“N-no—“ Joan sniffled. “N-not...not about that. About...”
Anne furrowed her eyebrows in concern.
“What?”
Joan leaned back. She’s hugging herself tightly, not making eye contact. Then, her gaze shifts to her desk, and Anne follows.
Joan’s work table is always a mess, but now it just looks like a hurricane had blown across it. Dozens of papers are scattered across the top, and there are several more that are crumpled into balls or ripped or completely shredded. Ink of various colors is splattered on the white wood, staining it permanently. Books are open and leaned against the wall- books about human anatomy and skeletons and body parts.
It takes a moment for Anne to realize that this was not music director work.
“Joan, what’s all this?” Anne asked. She picked up the nearest paper and read it over.
The paper had a crude drawing of a human at the center with notes written all over the sides, several of which were scribbled out, seemingly incorrect. The person had an animal skull over the head, which Anne assumed to be a deer’s. On the top, a few words were written, “Cadaver?? Deer??? Stag??”
“Are you taking up an interest in forensics?” Anne laughed slightly. “Joan, sweetheart, that’s nothing to be ashamed of! Bessie already—”
“No!” Joan cried. “Y-you don’t...” She gripped her forearms tightly and rocked back and forth in the chair. Something was making the poor thing very distressed. “I-I can’t... I can’t hide this from you anymore, can I?”
Anne blinked. She slowly set the paper down and cupped Joan’s tear stained face.
“Joan, baby, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
A few fresh tears slipped out of Joan’s eyes. Anne gingerly wiped them away with her thumb.
“Talk to me, darling.” Anne murmured to her. “Please. I’m worried about you.”
Joan sniffled. She pulled away from Anne and scrubbed at her eyes before standing up.
“Okay,” She whispered. “Do you have any food?”
“Food?” Anne blinked
“Yeah.”
Confused, Anne dug through her purse and pulled out an energy bar. Joan smiled weakly and took it from her, then also swiped a small journal from underneath a pile of papers, causing it to topple over in an avalanche of white.
“Thanks. Come on.”
Anne followed Joan out of the dressing room, down a hallway, and towards a back section of the theater that nobody really went to just because it seemed creepy. And they were right to think that, because Joan opened a set of double doors that were usually always locked with a key she slips out from her back pocket.
“Where are we going?” Anne asked as they walked down another corridor, this one much more rundown and dim.
“The basement.” Joan answered grimly.
“This place has a basement?”
“...Yeah.” There’s anxiety flashing through Joan’s eyes. Anne tried to calm her by placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but it did little to help. “Anne— I-“ The words die. Joan has to think for a moment before she tries to speak again. “I was...alone for a long time before you came along and took me under your wing. I had a lot of time to think. And one thing I could never get out of my head was how we got here. Reincarnation, I mean.”
“Yeah...?” Anne said, not really understanding.
Joan stopped at a staircase that seemingly led into a pitch black void. She spun around to face Anne. An unreadable emotion has replaced the anxiety in her bloodshot grey eyes.
“If we could be brought back to life, could the same happen to other people?” She said. “I— I was so fascinated by this that I started coming up with all these scenarios.” She opened the journal and showed Anne a page scrawled with pictures of humans and skeletons, triangles, beams of light, and other strange symbols. She’s smiling slightly. “I call it the ‘reincarnation theory.’ It’s what I’ve been using as an answer for all of this.” She points to three lightning bolts. “Think of it like Frankenstein. With enough electricity, a person can be revived. But what about a person who’s been dead for five hundred years?”
Anne wasn’t sure how to answer that, but Joan wasn’t looking for a reply.
“And do they have to be important? Like you and the other queens! Perhaps you being here is the ‘electricity’ that me and the ladies in waiting needed to come back. So would that work with other people, too? Other- other people from our time? People close to us?”
Then, her grin fell. A look of guilt and fear twists her features again.
“I...I haven’t been staying late to work on music director stuff.” She whispered.
Joan spun around and promptly walked down the staircase, nothing bothering to turn on any lights. If there were lights at all.
Anne hesitated, then followed.
“What are you talking about?” She asked. She had never been so confused and unnerved in her life.
Joan doesn’t answer. All she does is look at Anne pitifully, then turns her gaze forward again.
After a few seconds of walking, Joan opens another locked door at the bottom of the staircase, and they step into a nearly pitch-black room. The only light inside was a furnace-like piece of machinery in the back, which glowed a soft orange color. It seemed to be a boiler room of sorts.
“Joan...” Anne whispered warily.
She quickly realized why Joan hadn’t been speaking.
The low groan of the leaky pipes rumbled from somewhere in the darkness.
But it wasn’t the pipes.
Anne watched in frozen horror as something slinked out of the shadows. Its greyish skin and misshapen figure was like anything she had ever seen before. Inhumanly long fingers with hooked nails scratched quietly against the cracked tile in front of it. Long, disjointed feet pushed the rest of its scraggly, naked body along. When it raised its head, it had no eyes, just black sockets, and an stubby, elongated nose and mouth, like a bat snout of sorts. Patches of wiry brown hair that seemed more like fur stuck up along the head. It almost looked like a very large hairless dog in a weird sort of way.
The thing crawled on all fours out of the darkness, sniffing loudly as it went. Then, it jumped up, nearly making Anne run out from the scare of the jarring movements, and perched on a low hanging pipe. It extended a bony hand towards the pair, making loud noises as it waved it in the air. Joan gently squeezed the hand and then let the creature feel her head and face. It seemed to recognize her that way and let out a delighted hum, leaning over to nuzzle her cheek.
“Hey, Johnny Boy,” Joan murmured, smiling softly. “Sorry I’m a little late.”
“Joan—” Anne choked out. She’s backed up to the doorway, ready to run. “What the fuck?”
“Anne-” Joan whirled around to face the queen. The creature above her head began to growl. It sounded like when a human tried to imitate a dog, which made it that much more terrifying. “Please don’t run.”
“What the fuck?” Anne whispered again. Her eyes don’t leave the thing sitting on the pipes like a jungle bird.
“Anne, listen to me,” Joan said. She walked forward and took Anne’s hands. “You— You have to let him smell you. Or else he’ll think you’re a threat and—” She broke off.
“And what?” Anne asked fearfully.
“You...don’t want to know.” Joan said grimly. “Now please. I promise he won’t hurt you if you do this.”
Anne looked at Joan, searched her eyes for the same malicious glint Henry had in them when he sent her to his death, but found nothing. The girl was genuinely trying to help her.
Tentatively, on wobbling knees, Anne took a step forward. Joan helps her along, keeping on hand on her elbow and the other on her wrist. They slowly approach the creature on the pipes.
“Hey, Johnny,” Joan murmured sweetly. The creature turns its head in her direction, rumbling in acknowledgment. “I have a friend here to meet you. Her name is Anne. You remember Anne, don’t you? The queen?”
The creature chuffed in recognition.
Anne’s hand is held out to it and it sniffs her gingerly. Then, it leans forward, fingers and toes curling around the pipe for stability, and begins to smell the rest of Anne. It took everything in Anne not to run away when it feels her facial features and hair with one of its cold, bony hands.
“See?” Joan said to her, smiling in relief. “Was that so hard?”
“I-I don’t... I don’t understand.” Anne whispered.
“I’m not expecting you to,” Joan said. “This is my brother. John. I tried to bring him back when the loneliness became too much and it...kinda worked.”
“Why does he look like that?” Anne asked, earning an offended snort from John. “Sorry.”
“I...I don’t know.” Joan admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure that part out. So...I’ve been...testing more...”
Anne’s breath caught in her throat.
“Oh, Joan, no-”
A clicking noise cut her off. She slowly looked over her shoulder into the darkness of the boiler room and searched the shadows. It took her a moment, but she eventually found what had been mimicking the sounds The Predator would make.
It lunged out at Anne, screeching inhumanly. Anne screamed, too, as she’s knocked back against the wall. The thing was clinging to her body, nails pressed into her shoulders and thighs as it raised above her hand and-
“Juana, stop!!”
Joan shoved the creature away and it toppled backwards. Its long brown limbs flail widely in the air before it manages to roll over and back away on all fours, arching its bony spiny up like a cat.
The thing is humanoid like John, but not as bony, has darker skin, similar to Aragon’s tone, with a yellowish-bronze tint, and its legs are more noticeably hock-jointed. Its shoulder blades are grotesquely stretched out to inhuman lengths like wings that are waiting to sprout. The tailbone is extended, too, and waved back and forth in the air as some kind of warning. Tufts of something are sprouted along the nape of the neck, collarbone, elbows, and knees. A gas mask is attached to the face, shielding any facial features.
“Will you cut that—” Joan sighed and looked at Anne, who is horrified all over again. “Sorry. Juana is a little cranky sometimes.” She makes sure that’s directed to the creature, who clicks angrily. “Umm. This is Juana. Aragon’s sister.”
“Ara— What?!”
John hisses and Juana clicked when Anne yelled. She quickly shut her eyes and just stared at Joan with wide eyes. The music director anxiously rubs her sweaty palms against her pants.
“I didn’t have anyone else from my life I could test my theory on.” She said. “So...I started using others. Because maybe if I could bring back down siblings then everyone would like me.”
“Joan, that’s— that’s insane!” Anne exclaimed. “Why would you—”
“I don’t know, okay?!” Joan snapped. Tears were brimming in her eyes again. “I don’t know! It was stupid, I get it! But there’s nothing I can do about it now! They’re here. And I can’t just get rid of them. They’re alive, Anne.”
Anne is silent for a moment.
“Who else is here?” She asked quietly.
“There’s four in total.” Joan answered. “Isabel is another.”
“Isabel...?”
“Leigh.” Joan specified. “Kat’s sister.”
From further back in the room, there’s a creaking noise, followed by a low grumbling.
A tall creature with shiny black skin with grey speckles lumbers out of the shadows. It’s so large it bonks its head on one of the pipes, causing it to rear back in surprise before ducking under the oppressive piece of metal. When it gets close enough, Anne could see horn-like formations curling out of the top of the bald head. The only facial features it has is solid, piercing blue eyes.
“Here she is.” Joan said. “Isabel, this is Anne. She’s Kat’s cousin.”
Isabel tilted her head slowly, almost like a dog. She lifted one of her clawed hands, which is as big as Anne’s face, and tentatively touched one of Anne’s spacebuns. She makes a low cooing noise and then waved her head to look at the other two malformed reincarnated creatures nearby.
“Are they...in pain?” Anne asked. “Does this hurt them?”
“I don’t think so,” Joan answered. “They aren’t bad, I just— I messed up.” She lowered her head. “I want to help them, I just don’t know how and I-I keep making it worse. I can’t bring them out because-“ She gestured vaguely for the trip. “You know…” She raised a hand and Isabel pressed her cold, black cheek into it. “But...they’re my friends.”
John clambered across a pipe and leaned over to nuzzle Joan’s temple with his bat-like snout. Joan smiled weakly and gave him the energy bar she had gotten from Anne. His empty sockets widen when he realizes what’s being offered to him and he snatches it up, devouring the treat with the wrapper still on.
“You have to tell the others.” Anne said.
“What?!” Joan looked at her, startled. “N-no! I can’t! Do you know how they’ll react? Especially Aragon! This— this is basically black magic!”
“They can’t arrest you or anything for it.”
“But they can shun me!”
“They deserve to know!” Anne argued.
She was getting angry. Joan knee she shouldn’t have told her.
“No, they don’t!” Joan cried. Her tears spill over. “Why don’t you deal with your family member before you tell me what to do with theirs!”
Anne froze. Her eyes go wide. There’s a low, but harmless and curious growl from the darkness behind her.
“Wh...what?”
Joan sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. John hangs over her head, and she can hear Juana and Isabel’s claws clack against the tile floor as they stand behind her, watching Anne.
“I told you there were four.” She mumbled hoarsely.
Anne was frozen for a tense half second before she slowly turned around and watched as a humanoid with a deer skull head, the thing from the drawing on Joan’s desk, stepped out of the shadows towards her. It tilts its head like a puppy and the bony jaws open up in a small smile.
“Anne... This is George.”
Tears start to rapidly fall down Anne’s cheeks.
“Your brother.”
#six the musical#six the musical fanfiction#six the musical fanfic#six fanfic#six fanfiction#sixfic#anne boleyn#nana boleyn#joan on the keys#catherine of aragon#anna of cleves#isabel leigh#juana of castile#george boleyn#boleyn siblings#john astley#gene pool
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Cuddle Buddies (4/?)
Steve's a busy human rights lawyer who doesn't have time for a relationship but still wants to snuggle up with someone. Luckily, Bucky happens to be a professional cuddler. Chapters: 1, 2, 3. Also on ao3.
"Let's start a café," said Bucky dreamily. "A café that only serves hot chocolate."
"We could call it Hot n' Creamy," replied Steve, making Bucky snort into his drink.
"Who's hot and who's creamy?" he asked after surfacing, a teasing smirk on his lips.
"You're the creamy one," laughed Steve, giving into the temptation to wipe the whipped topping from Bucky's upper lip, sweeping his thumb over the soft skin.
Steve spent the next week alternating between walking around with a spring in his step, a secret little smile hovering around his lips, and being gripped with sudden self-doubt. Something was happening between him and Bucky, and the anticipation before their next meeting was delicious.
Unfortunately, the fates were conspiring to interrupt his plans.
"Hey, Buck," sighed Steve when the phone connected. He was leaning on a wall outside his apartment building, shivering a little in the brisk evening air.
"Hey! What's up, Stevie?" said Bucky's warm voice, sending tingles through Steve's body.
"There's a carbon monoxide leak in my building, they want us out of the place all evening so they can air it out and fix the boiler," said Steve, trying hard not to sound petulant as he kicked a pebble vindictively down the road.
"Oh man! I hope you didn't breathe any of it in."
Steve chuckled. "I think I'm safe. But unless you want to do our session in a coffee shop or the New York Public Library..."
"I bet that wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's ever happened in that library," Bucky interjected, laughing.
"Or I guess we could go to a hotel?" offered Steve hopefully, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
"How about my place?" said Bucky immediately. "I live pretty near you, got a nice big couch."
"Sure," said Steve, a little breathless at the idea of seeing Bucky's private space. "Text me your address, I'll be there in half an hour."
He stopped off at a grocery store during his walk to Bucky's and picked up some ingredients. When he reached Bucky's building - a fairly ordinary-looking apartment block over a coffee shop - he hesitated a second to check that he was precisely on time before pressing the buzzer.
Bucky's crackly voice broke into the intercom. "Steve! Come on up, I'm on the third floor."
When he walked inside, Bucky was grinning down the stairwell, easing Steve's nerves somewhat.
"Come on in," said Bucky when Steve reached the top of the stairs. "Don't mind Alpine. She hates everyone."
Alpine, a stunning white cat with regal bearing, was regarding the newcomer with suspicion while aggressively headbutting Bucky's shins. Immediately forgetting why he was there, Steve dropped into a crouch and held a hand out to her, making pspspsps noises and blinking slowly until she cocked her head at him. He clearly managed to pique her curiosity, and she stalked over to sniff his fingers, even deigning to let him scratch her under the chin before turning up her nose and leaving to inspect her food bowl.
Bucky made a small, impressed sound, reminding Steve where he was. He looked up to see Bucky beaming at him.
"Cat whisperer," he said, fondness lacing his voice.
"She's beautiful."
"She's an asshole and she has no respect for me," snorted Bucky. "But yeah, she is the prettiest princess."
"I brought ingredients for a new drink," said Steve, standing up and gesturing with the shopping bags. "Can I use your stove?"
"Stevie," said Bucky. There was something indescribably soft about the way that his mouth caressed the syllables. "You didn't have to do that."
"Don't thank me yet," grinned Steve. "This is an experimental recipe."
"OK, fine," amended Bucky, leading the way to the kitchen. "I will thank you if you don't make me blind or something."
Bucky's apartment was an odd mixture of lived-in and minimalist, with classy wooden furniture and sleek lines, interspersed with fuzzy blankets and cat toys. Steve noted with interest the big, deep couch, and a couple of bookshelves bursting with science fiction novels and books about different types of therapy.
The kitchen was well-appointed but, with the exception of the coffee maker, seemed to have been barely used. Bucky pulled him out a saucepan and two mugs.
"Teach me the ways of your hot beverages, oh great and powerful Steve," he said, bowing low.
"Alright," said Steve, handing him a package. "You chop up half of this bar of orange chocolate into little pieces, I'm gonna start heating up the oat milk and mixing together the spices."
"Spices?" asked Bucky, grabbing a chopping board and knife and doing as he was told.
"Cinnamon, ginger, allspice, cardamom," said Steve, placing the jars on the counter as he spoke. "I figured, they go well with orange, and it's not like adding chocolate can make any combination worse, right?"
By the time they'd finished making the drinks, sprinkling extra spice mix and grating chocolate over the top of the creamy topping, and Bucky had as usual buried his entire face in his mug, Steve could fairly confidently say that the experiment was a success. It was the right mixture of comforting and luxurious, rich with chocolate and homely with spices and orange.
"Let's start a café," said Bucky dreamily. "A café that only serves hot chocolate."
"We could call it Hot n' Creamy," replied Steve, making Bucky snort into his drink.
"Who's hot and who's creamy?" he asked after surfacing, a teasing smirk on his lips.
"You're the creamy one," laughed Steve, giving into the temptation to wipe the whipped topping from Bucky's upper lip, sweeping his thumb over the soft skin.
Bucky's tongue darted out to lick the cream from Steve's thumb, and he hummed in agreement. "You are the hot one," he purred.
"Flatterer," huffed Steve, rolling his eyes and finishing off his drink to distract himself from the blush coloring his cheeks.
"Right," announced Bucky, slurping down the last of his hot chocolate and grabbing Steve's hand. "Let's get to cuddling."
Steve's fingers felt right slotting between Bucky's, and he allowed himself to be led over to the large, plush couch. Bucky lay down on his side and pulled until Steve's back was pressed against his front, two spoons nested together.
"How was your week?" asked Bucky, gently stroking up and down Steve's arm, his chocolatey breath tickling against the back of Steve's neck.
Steve burrowed closer, his feet finding the space between Bucky's calves and aimlessly rubbing up and down. "Not bad, actually. Had a few cases end all at once, got to do some cool courtroom theatrics."
"So you have some free time now?"
"I have to tie up some loose ends tomorrow, then I get a little breather."
"You gonna go on some wild adventures?"
"I'm going to finally get all of my laundry done."
"Oooh," teased Bucky. "Save some fun for the rest of us, rock star."
"You realize I can see your box of hand-made cat toys from here, right?" said Steve, lazily waving towards a cardboard tub full of pom poms, ribbons and sticks glued together.
"Shut up, punk," grumbled Bucky, flopping down to rest his head on his arm, pressing his nose into the back of Steve's head. "My cat thinks I'm very fun," he mumbled into Steve's hair.
"That's the cat who's over there licking her own ass, yeah?"
Bucky lifted himself up to scowl over at Alpine, who ignored him and continued to groom herself. "You're making me look bad," he hissed.
Steve laughed, startled by his own volume, and Bucky let out a huff of laughter of his own, settling his head back down so that he stirred Steve's hair with every breath.
Something about being inside Bucky's private space made their cuddling seem more intimate, more personal. Steve's heart felt like it was beating louder than usual against his chest, and each touch amplified, warmer and firmer.
In his gentle, coaxing way, Bucky got him talking about the mundanities of his week - how his cases had gone, whether he'd made that lasagna he was talking about last time, the way the washing machine won't take your quarters unless you thumped it - and Steve felt his worries slipping from his shoulders, the world narrowing to the warm little heap they made together on the couch. His breaths slowed to match Bucky's and he started to feel almost meditative, his thoughts drifting through like fallen leaves down a passing stream.
Bucky was draped half on top of him by this point, one leg hitched over Steve's hip and his arm cradling him protectively, wrapping him up completely in his body. Steve, nestled in the warm cocoon of Bucky's presence, sighed happily, shifting around a little to find a comfortable position for his bony hip on the soft cushions. He stopped short when a movement brought his ass more firmly into contact with Bucky's crotch and he felt an unmistakable hardness pressing against him.
Very deliberately, he gave an experimental wiggle, for which he was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and Bucky grinding against him, the hard line of his erection electrifying through the thin fabric of their pants.
Not wanting to push his luck, he stilled his body and digested this new information. His skin was prickling with excitement, but at the same time he felt deeply relaxed and in no particular hurry, happy to enjoy whatever sensual pleasures were on offer as the evening unfolded. He threaded his fingers through Bucky's and pulled his arm tighter around his chest, tilting his head down to invite Bucky to bury his face in the join between Steve's neck and shoulder, which he did. Neither of them seemed inclined to rush things - Bucky occasionally rocked his hips a little, Steve sometimes circled his own, and the little noises of pleasure they were both making mingled with the drowsy conversation they were somehow continuing about the merits of different types of fabric softener. Bucky was everywhere, stroking his thumb over Steve's collar bones, nuzzling into his neck, body warm and enticingly solid against his back.
Time melted, and at a certain point Steve began to wonder if Bucky's alarm was ever going to go off, but couldn't bring himself to be upset about it. As the evening darkened into night, they began to drift off to sleep, safe and comfortable and wrapped up in each other.
The first time you spend a night asleep with a new partner is always a bit fractured - you have to muddle around together until you find a position that works for both of you. The first time Steve half woke up, slightly too warm, it was to make a little disgruntled noise and roll over, so that they were sleeping face to face on the couch. He promptly fell back to sleep and didn't notice when Bucky, woken by the feeling of Steve breathing on his face, rolled over so that he became the little spoon.
They slept quite companionably like that for an hour or so, until Steve began to shiver and burrowed his way into Bucky's armpit for warmth. Feeling Steve's cold body against him, Bucky rolled onto his back, pulling Steve into his chest and groping for a blanket from the arm of the couch, which he tenderly tucked around Steve's body. This seemed to be the winning formula, and they slept peacefully together until the early hours of the morning.
The first thing Steve noticed on waking up was that Bucky's dick was very hard against his thigh. The second thing he noticed was that he was in much the same predicament, and that the sleepy way that they were lazily rubbing against each other was incredibly nice.
The third thing he noticed was Alpine plaintively meowing directly into his ear.
Bucky groaned and reached out a hand blindly to pet the cat on the head, simultaneously gripping Steve tighter with his other arm and rolling them away from the source of the noise. Steve found himself pressed between the back of the couch and Bucky's body, which was not an unpleasant way to start the morning.
"Hello," murmured Bucky, his voice thick with sleep.
"Mmm," hummed Steve, continuing to rub himself against Bucky's thick, muscular thigh. "Hi."
Bucky shuddered pleasantly and pressed against him harder, raising his head to look him in the eye, a sleepy grin spreading over his face. Steve was just reaching his hand up to brush the hair out of Bucky's face when Alpine decided to interject by slapping her paw into Bucky's eye.
"Christ!" yelped Bucky, reluctantly disentangling himself from Steve and rubbing his eye. "Fine, I'll feed you, you horrible gremlin." Grabbing Alpine around the middle, he held her to his chest with one arm with practiced ease as he walked to the kitchen and started preparing her breakfast. Docile now, she let out a satisfied purr and rubbed her face against him.
"Time is it?" said Steve through a yawn, groping for his phone, and then "Crap!" when he saw the clock. Jolted into action by a wave of anxiety, he leapt from the couch and started searching for his shoes. "I've gotta go, I'm meeting a client in an hour and I have to change and get my papers and get across town."
"Oh, crap," echoed Bucky, wiping the kibble dust from his fingers onto a cloth while Alpine applied herself to her food dish, audibly purring. "Sorry, I didn't think to set an alarm last night, and then it was so nice..."
"So nice," agreed Steve breathlessly, hopping around the floor gracelessly as he put on his shoes. Bucky strode across the room to grab Steve's jacket and hold it out for him, stroking his shoulders after he shoved his arms into the sleeves. His breath tickled the back of Steve's neck, and Steve turned around, resting his hand on Bucky's chest as he looked up into his eyes, enjoying the crooked smile on his handsome face.
"Buck, I-" he started, before being interrupted by the shrill ringing of his phone. His eyes widened when he looked at the screen and he cursed again, shooting Bucky an apologetic look. "Sorry, I have to take this, and I have to run. I'll-" he stalled, looking into Bucky's hopeful blue eyes. "I'll call you," he promised, swiping to answer his phone and barreling out the door.
"Fury? Yeah, I'm going to be about fifteen minutes late..."
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Sweet Words (Diego x GN!Reader)
WARNINGS: Mentions of blood; Mentions of gunshot wound; Alcohol use; Suggestive Themes; Language.
WORD COUNT: 2,509
PAIRING: Diego Hargreeves x Gender Neutral!Reader
A/N: A HALLOWEEN MIRACLE!!!!!!!! I’m so sorry this took so long but I am eternally grateful for your patience! I really hope you like it and that the wait was worth it. I really liked this idea and feel free to send more my way. (And hopefully I’ll get them done faster lol)
@myraticm
Love at first sight was bullshit, but goddamn the person at the bar was testing Diego’s belief in that.
He wasn’t even meant to be here, really. He won a boxing match and was feeling pretty good and for once in his life, he accepted the invitation to get drinks after with a few of the guys from the gym. Any other day he would’ve said no, gone back to the boiler room, go out to see if there were any crime scenes to crash. There was something that told Diego to go, and when he looked at the person laughing with their friends, he started to believe Klaus’ stupid rants about fate.
Diego clinked his glass with his friends, tipping his head back as the liquor passed his lips. He began to walk toward the bar before he had even set his glass back down on the table top, ignoring the comments from the guys he was with.
A hush took over the little group at the bar when Diego approached, everyone looking at the newcomer with apprehension.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” they greeted with a slight smile that made Diego’s heart skip a beat.
“I’m Diego.”
“[Y/N].”
“Mind if I buy you a drink, [Y/N]?”
[Y/N]’s eyes flitted over Diego’s body as if they wanted to take inventory of the man to decide his worth. Apparently he was worth something when they finally agreed.
The pair separated from both of their groups as they shared a drink. One drink turned into two, two turned into dancing, dancing turned into kissing behind the bar, kissing behind the bar turned into them stumbling through the door to [Y/N]’s apartment, hands exploring each other’s bodies with a sense of desperation.
------------------------------
Diego groaned when the pounding in his head woke him up, rolling over to hide from the pain before realizing he wasn’t in his bed. He sat up, memories of the night before finally catching up with the rest of him. The space beside him was already cold and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. Was [Y/N] still around? Was he just supposed to leave? Did they trust him that much if they were already gone? One night stands weren’t his thing for a fucking reason.
He rolled out of bed and started to put on his strewn clothes, following them like a trail of breadcrumbs through the little apartment toward the front door. Diego blinked when he was finally faced with the bright light coming from the kitchen.
“Morning.”
Diego ran a hand through his hair before pulling his shirt back on. “Morning.”
“Sorry if I woke you up, I have work early. Help yourself to some coffee,” [Y/N] offered with that smile that made Diego’s heart all fluttery again.
Diego nodded and moved around them to grab a mug, noticing their bookbag on one of the kitchen chairs. He plucked the security badge off the top, smiling at the picture. “You’re an ER nurse?”
[Y/N] quickly grabbed it from Diego’s hand, though their smile was still playful. “Are you always this nosy with people you sleep with?” they asked over their shoulder as they clipped it to their scrubs.
“Only the really cute ones.”
They snorted, shaking their head in disbelief.
“I had a lot of fun last night.”
A blush started to creep up the other’s neck and Diego just wanted to kiss all over it like he did last night. “I did too,” they finally admitted, taking a bite of the breakfast burrito they prepared.
Diego took a sip of his coffee as he weighed his options: make this a strictly one time thing, or try for a repeat.
“We should do this again,” he said as casually as he could, leaning back against the counter.
[Y/N] slowed down their chewing, clearly going through their mental pro-con list at his offer. “I’m not really looking for anything serious,” they finally answered with a little nod. “But if you still wanted to do that again, I’d be down.”
Diego decided to take what he could get and scribbled his number on the pad stuck to [Y/N]’s fridge. “Thanks for the coffee.” He left a kiss on their cheek before giving his mug a rinse, grabbing the rest of his clothes as he made his way out.
------------------------------
Diego didn’t want to do this, but he didn’t know where else to go. He groaned as he pressed the bleeding wound on his side harder. He attempted to lift his other arm to knock on the door but couldn’t stand the pain, so he kicked the door he had become familiar with. Repeatedly.
“Jesus fucking Christ, I will call the cops!” he heard from the other side of the door, sighing when [Y/N] flung it open.
“Diego? What the fuck?”
Diego didn’t answer, pushing past the person he had started to consider a friend. “Got shot,” he finally managed to mumble, shuffling toward the bathroom.
“I’m sorry, did you just say you got shot?!”
Diego dropped down onto the edge of the bathtub with a huff, letting go of his wound to unbuckle his harness.
“Diego, you need to go to the-”
“No.”
“You got shot, though!”
“You treat gunshot wounds before?”
[Y/N] looked on in horror as Diego peeled his blood soaked shirt, hissing as the fabric stuck to the wound. They finally stepped foward to help, sighing when they could get a good look at it.
“Please,” Diego whispered, grabbing the towel he was handed to apply pressure on the gash again.
They huffed, leaving the bathroom to rummage around in the kitchen. [Y/N] was back in a moment, dropping all the supplies onto the counter. “You’re telling me what the fuck happened after, though.”
------------------------------
“You seriously want me to believe you’re a superhero vigilante?”
“You can google the Umbrella Academy. I was the cute one.”
Diego was now laying in [Y/N]’s bed, all sewn up and bandaged. Luckily the wound was closer to his back and he was able to turn around for them to sew him up; he didn’t have the fun and embarassing experience of fainting at the sight of the needle.
He watched [Y/N] grab their phone to fact check his story, raising an eyebrow when he saw their lips quirk into a smile.
“What?”
“You said you were the cute one but that isn’t matching up with what I see here. Number Four, though...”
Diego rolled his eyes, picking the pillow up that was beside him to throw it at [Y/N]. They just laughed and batted it away.
“You better not be going out there again for a while,” [Y/N] said more seriously, properly replacing the pillow beside Diego.
“It was just a graze,” Diego protested.
“I’m not stitching you up again!”
Diego could see their genuine worry and it caused him to step down from the fight. “How long do I wait?”
“A few weeks.”
Diego groaned dramatically, reaching out to grab their hand. “Fine. But only if I’m able to come over... I can just lay here and let you do your thing.”
[Y/N] laughed, crawling forward to kiss Diego softly.
------------------------------
Diego, for the first time in his life, actually listened to medical advice. He was aching to get back out on the street but he found things to fill his time. He started to coach the little kids at the gym, helped Al out more when he needed it, and spent more time with [Y/N].
Their relationship wasn’t something he was really used to, but he was enjoying it. It usually centered around sex, but they would also just spend time together. Maybe watch a movie or talk about work. Diego even started to do little handyman projects around [Y/N]’s house while they were at work so they wouldn’t have to wait for their landlord.
Diego huffed as he flopped himself on the sofa in the Academy mansion, already dreading this ‘family meeting’. He nodded toward Klaus as the Séance joined him with an overdramatic groan.
“Can we get on with this? I have plans,” Klaus announced with a flair of his hand.
Allison started to speak, Luther interjecting every so often with details that she missed. Diego grabbed his phone and started texting, unable to hide the smile that was taking over his features.
“I’m sorry, are we bothering you, Diego?”
“Usually, yeah.”
Allison huffed, snatching the phone out of her brother’s hands, ducking when he immediately threw a knife at her head.
“Who the hell is this?”
“None of your fucking business,” the vigilante growled.
“His lover,” Klaus lamented, laying himself across Diego’s lap with the back of his hand gently placed on his forehead. “The cute little thing that has our grumpy asshole in love.”
Diego rolled his eyes, pushing Klaus onto the floor, which just made Number Four laugh. “It’s not that serious. We just hook up.”
“And fix their water heater, apparently,” Luther pointed out, holding up the exchange of messages about the project.
“We have sex and I fix up their apartment because their landlord is a prick. Happy?” Diego grabbed his phone back, shoving it back into his pocket.
“You like them,” Vanya realized softly. “Genuinely.”
Diego just glared at the violinist.
Allison returned to her chair as she thought about her next question, “How long have you two been doing this?”
Diego knew there was no getting out of this. He was going to fess up or they’d dig and make it a hundred times worse. “A few months.”
“Friends with benefits don’t usually last that long without becoming real, darling Didi,” Klaus pointed out.
“Do they seem to actually like you?” Luther asked, his features showing genuine concern for his brother.
Diego just rolled his eyes. “It’s just sex and favors. They patch me up and I fix up their place. That’s it.”
“You need to talk to them. See if you’re actually their boyfriend or if you should end it.”
“Excuse me for not wanting to take relationship advice from you, Allison,” Diego snapped.
Everyone sat in silent shock, Diego taking the chance to leave the mansion once more.
------------------------------
Diego would rather die than admit that maybe, just maybe, his siblings were right. He had fallen for [Y/N], almost instantly. They were charming and fun and kind. He smiled whenever he thought of them or saw something that reminded him of them. He adored doing boring little things with [Y/N]. Just laying in bed together was quickly becoming Diego’s favorite pastime.
But he was fucking terrified. After Eudora, Diego didn’t want to get burned again. He was still just a vigilante with twenty bucks to his name. [Y/N] was a successful nurse who, for some fucked up reason, put up with his shit.
Well, Diego knew what that ‘fucked up reason’ was. Everyone did. [Y/N] was willing to put up with him just because the sex was good. That’s all he was to them and he would just have to be happy with that.
The voices of his siblings didn’t stop floating around his mind. Every time he wanted to pick up the phone to call [Y/N], Allison was there telling him to admit his feelings and end it if they didn’t feel the same.
The days started to build up to weeks since the last time Diego stopped by. [Y/N] would send a text to invite him over, but he always made up some stupid excuse to avoid it. They would move on and he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of actually ending it and knowing that he wasn’t more than a cock and some tools.
Diego really didn’t want to do this. The thought of crawling back to this door when he had essentially ignored the person on the other side for a month and a half made his stomach turn. He huffed, knocking on the door until he could hear shuffling from inside the apartment.
“Seriously?” [Y/N] asked when they opened the door.
Diego only managed a sheepish smile, mumbling his thanks when they stepped aside to welcome him. He made his way to the bathroom like he had countless times before as the nurse rummaged through their kitchen.
“If you got shot again-”
“Just beat up.” Diego sighed as his shirt was pulled off, the cool air soothing the searing hot pain around the cuts and gashes.
“You have so much fucking nerve,” [Y/N] mumbled as they began to clean him up. “Ignore me for ages and then expect me to just patch you up. You could’ve been dead and I wouldn’t have known.”
“I’m sorry.” Diego wasn’t even sure if he actually said the words out loud, but [Y/N] paused to survey his face.
“I just worry.”
They stayed silent, only the sound of water splashing as [Y/N] dipped the bloody rag in the sink.
“Why?”
Diego looked up, taking a deep breath as he tried to think of an excuse. Maybe pulling the band aid off would be best. “Someone told me you were only in this for sex and free labor around your place and I was being an idiot.”
[Y/N]’s eyebrows shot up. “And what? You’re not only in this for sex and no questions health care?”
Diego smirked, looking down at his boots. “I wish that’s all it was sometimes.”
Silence filled the air once more. [Y/N] placed their finger under Diego’s chin to lift it, dabbing softly at the abrasions there.
“Do you want more?”
He pulled away from the hands, gently pushing them away from his face. It didn’t matter if he wanted more, he didn’t deserve it. Not from [Y/N].
“Diego.”
Their fingers were cold from now red water in the sink, sending a shiver down Diego’s spine when they gently brushed over his cheeks. He let [Y/N] tilt his head back up, a knot forming in his stomach at the sight of their beautiful face.
“Be honest. Please.”
He couldn’t find the words, and the words he did find he was sure wouldn’t come out properly. Diego nodded, looking back down at the ground, afraid of the response from the person he cared so much for.
There was the feeling of soft lips on Diego’s temple, then his cheek, slowly leading to his lips. He leaned into the kiss, noticing that it was softer than he had ever experienced. It was filled with love.
“I want more too.”
Diego kissed [Y/N] again, unsure of what else to do with this feeling that was building in his chest.
“I love you.” The words came out surprisingly simply, passing over his lips like their name on a warm night.
[Y/N] paused before saying, “I love you too.”
The pair shared another kiss and the words tasted as sweet as they sounded. Diego didn’t want to go a day without hearing those simple words. He didn’t want to live another moment without their gentle kiss after speaking those words.
Diego didn’t want to go a second without [Y/N] in his life as his love.
#the umbrella academy#the umbrella academy imagines#the umbrella academy imagine#tua#tua imagine#tua imagines#umbrella academy#umbrella academy imagines#umbrella academy imagine#diego hargreeves#diego hargreeves imagines#diego hargreeves imagine#diego hargreeves x reader#reader x diego hargreeves#the kraken#tua kraken#00.02#diego hargreeves x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader x diego hargreeves#self insert fic#self insert imagine#self insert imagines#diego hargreeves one shot#the umbrella academy one shot#tua one shot#umbrella academy one shot
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I’ve seen a lot of talk about the William the Antichrist draft booklet and Crawleigh, but to my knowledge it hasn’t been publicly shared yet. It came with the Dunmanifestin Ineffable Edition of the Definitive Good Omens, and I think that all of those that will be distributed have been, so I thought it would be a nice idea to start posting pictures of its contents so that people who weren’t able to get their hands on a physical copy could also enjoy it. Knowledge for the people! I think the fandom could do some really fun things with it; It’s fascinating to get this glimpse into how the story developed.
The pictures aren’t in the greatest quality, so I’ve provided a transcript under the cut.
William the Antichrist
It was a dark and stormy night.
Do not let that lull you into a false sense of security. Just because it was the kind of night on which evil things have always been known to walk the earth, the kind of night on which one’s car breaks down in front of the old dark house, while dramatic lightning bolts fork through tarmac-black skies does not mean that this was not a night on which the forces of darkness were not abroad. They were abroad. They were everywhere. They always are. That’s the whole point.
Two of them lurked in the ruined graveyard. Two shadowy figures, one hunched and squat, the other lean and menacing: both of them star-quality lurkers. If Bruce Springsteen had ever recorded Born to Lurk, these two would have been on the album cover, no problem. They had been lurking in the rain by a particularly ruined tomb for over an hour now, and they looked like they could carry on all night. Neither of them had spoken a word since arriving, although their body language was a stream of sullen invective. The shorter of them carried a bundle.
There was a splash and a muffled curse as someone trod in a particularly deep puddle. A third figure joined them.
“Sorry I’m late,” it said. “The car broke down, and you wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get someone out on a night like this. Then I got lost. Got here eventually though. Been waiting long?”
The hunched, squat lurker spat in the mud. “We are all here then,” he hissed, in a voice like fingernails clawing through a blackboard. “We can begin. Hastur?”
Hastur, the thin one, nodded. “Great deeds have I done in the service of Our Master. I have poisoned reservoirs and given dogs venomous bones. I have tossed red-hot coins to buskers and strychnine sweets to small children. I have sold cars with carefully defective brakes; given sure tips to small investors, guaranteed to lose them the savings accumulated through their pitiful lives. I have corrupted youths and virgins. I have forced many to madness and beyond. I have written books that drove those who read them to suicide; and I have written songs that made those who heard them wish that they were dead. You could fill Wembley Stadium with those lives I have ruined, those souls I have twisted to Our Master’s cause. And you?”
The squat one cleared his throat, the sound was not unlike slivers of blackboard being driven under someone’s fingernails, and began his litany: “I have burned down orphanages and hospitals. I have altered bus timetables
and pushed people in front of subway trains. I have stolen candy from babies and hope from the despairing, swindled poor old women and returned to swindle them again. I have placed ground glass in soup intended for the poor, and ground diamonds in soup for the rich. I have removed warning signs, and made my own Diversion signs, and laughed as cars and lorries tumbled over cliffs. Thousands have I corrupted, thousands more have I destroyed utterly. I might also mention VAT form 10A/VB/003.1. And you, Crawleigh?”
The latecomer shuffled from foot to foot, squelching slightly. They were staring at him.
“Well...I really meant to get around to that sort of stuff. I mean I really meant to. But. I’ve been so busy recently, and I just didn’t, um, you know how it is...” He trailed off.
There was a pause. Then the hunched figure hissed, in a voice that sounded like nails being dragged across an entire language laboratory full of advanced teaching aids, “You’ve been…busy?”
“Uh, yes. I mean, for example, Tuesday. Yes. I really was going to go out and um, well, deprave somebody or something. Only there was this note saying the gas board would finally be sending someone over to fix the boiler, so I stayed in all day specially. Well, that was Tuesday gone. Of course, I phoned and they said he’d be round Wednesday, and so Wednesday I’m in all day, except I popped out for five minutes to get some ciggies, and I get back and there’s
a note on the door saying they’d been and I was out and could I get back to them? Five minutes!”
“It‘s not as if,” he added, warming to his theme, “It’s not as if they give you a time they’ll be coming round. Oh no! ‘Be in all day,’ they say, as if you haven’t got better things to do with your time, so there am I...”
“You haven’t done...anything?”
“Erm, I suppose if you want to put it like that...”
“Nothing?”
“Well I was rude to a few people...”
The hunched figure glared hopefully. “You cursed them with dread maledictions and dark and forbidden imprecations, did you?”
“No. Not exactly. Not as such. Mostly I just gave them one of my looks. But, I mean, they could tell I wasn’t pleased. I’m fairly sure about that.”
The lean man, Hastur, spoke. “This is getting us nowhere,” he said. “What news of the parents?” There was something deeply unpleasant in the way he used the word. A raindrop which had begun to trickle down the back of his neck got the message and tried desperately to drip upwards.
Crawleigh seemed marginally less uncomfortable. “All set. A-OK. She goes into labour tonight. We make the swap after everyone’s asleep, and she goes back home with Him next week. The hospital staff are all ours, and when she gets
Him back to St. James’s all her nurses, nannies, governesses and so forth will be our people. Everything’s set.”
“Good."
A clap of thunder smashed the skies, and the rain, innocent of what it was about to fall onto, attempted the impossible and tried to fall even harder. Where it hit the small, squat figure it seemed to be turning into steam.
“There must be no mistakes, Crawleigh.”
“Oh, no. Gosh, of course not. I’ll be making the swap tonight myself what could possibly go wrong?”
There was no answer. Possibly there was a sigh.
The small, squat figure leaned down and picked up the bundle. It was bulky and well wrapped against the rain. “Here. Take good care of it. It is the most important thing there is, Crawleigh. Our Master’s own.”
Crawleigh took the bundle from him. “Right. Well, I’d better be off then. Going to be a busy night. Lovely seeing both of you again. Listen, if you’re ever down my way, give me a bell, love to see you, mustn’t drift out of touch. We could pick up some curries, watch a video back at my place...” He trailed off, realising that he was alone in the graveyard.
Carrying his burden gingerly he squished out of the graveyard and down the hill to the puddly patch of mud where his car, a Citroen 2CV, was waiting.
#good omens#william the antichrist#Crawleigh#ineffable edition#Definitive Good Omens#transcript#I really appreciate the people who posted the special edition script book scenes#there will be more#I feel like if you post oc with the same tags too often your stuff stops appearing in those tags but I may just be paranoid#stuff I made
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“Spiderman is down, I repeat, Spiderman is down!”
A/N: Much thanks to @iamwhump for emotional support and helping me come up with the ending <3
“Spiderman is down, I repeat, Spiderman is down.” Tony said into his comm as he helped rest of the debris from top of Peter’s body.
This was why he didn’t want the boy on the battlefield. This was why Peter had to focus on patrolling, petty thefts and such, with only knives, simple guns.
The boy did not need to fight against terrorists. They were definitely above Peter’s 100 dollars a week plus meals- pay grade.
The boy blinked his eyes open and coughed from the dust.
Tony helped him take off the mask before burying his hands on the bleeding wound on the boy’s leg. Smell of iron was too strong. He feared the blast that had collapsed the building had nicked an artery.
Maybe it would have been better to leave the boy be- pieces of building would have kept constant pressure on the wound.
Tony shook the thought away: Peter would have suffocated.
“You’ll be just fine,” He flashed a smile at the boy while his fingers tried to keep the jagged sides together. “Just focus on breathing, okay.”
Peter nodded, still dazed from being buried with little to no air.
“That was not fun,” He rubbed his face, the mask had not been able to protect his face from getting dirty.
“I can only imagine,” Tony kept the light tone.
“You should- We should-” Peter gulped down. “Install a breathing device in the mask.”
“Definitely the next thing on my list.”
The boy grit his teeth and grunted, his leg kicking a bit.
“You in pain? Peter! Tell me where it hurts?” Tony wanted touch the boy, comfort him but he couldn’t while he was bleeding out underneath him. He had to at least try to bandage the wound.
Peter was growing paler by the minute.
“The wound,” The boy whined. Tony stepped out of the suit and shed his blazer he had worn to a meeting. Peter recognized the cloth, the boy had accompanied him on that shopping trip.
“Mr Stark- don’t-”
“Shut up,” Tony muttered and wrapped the blazer around the wound as tight as he could. It wasn’t much, the material was soft, not allowing for a lot of hold. He had to do more.
“We’ll be just okay,” Tony assured the boy as he unclasped his belt.
“This might hurt but be a champ for me, okay,” The man raised the boy’s leg as little as he had to to slide the flat end of the belt under Peter’s thigh.
Peter groaned in agony as the wound jostled. The boy grasped the ground, teeth gritting so hard Tony figured he might need a dentist afterwards.
“And there,” Tony fastened the belt as close to Peter’s groin as he could. It would hopefully block the artery and diminish blood flow.
Tony was seriously starting to doubt he could ever get his hands clean.
Peter breathed fast and superficially. Tony dared to touch his face and his suspicions were confirmed: Peter was in shock.
“Stay calm, Peter,” He stroked the boy’s hair and discreetly measured his pulse: fast, thready.
Tony tried to think of how to help. He had nothing to cover the boy with, he only had on a button up shirt and it was not thick enough to lend any warmth.
“Let’s prop your feet up a bit,” The man kept the cheery tone as he piled some debris and wood together as a make-shit support. Peter didn’t seem to appreciate or even acknowledge the forced positivity.
“There, that will keep blood in your head.”
Peter coughed weakly.
“I’m thirsty,” The boy breathed deeply. “Tony.”
“I know,” Tony cradled the boy’s face and rubbed his cheekbones. “I have nothing, I’m sorry, kiddo. Just hold on for me, okay.”
“Dizzy.”
Peter was growing worse every second. The wound was still bleeding heavily, belts and blazers did nothing to such a severe gash.
“Guys,” Tony turned his head away, hoping Peter would not hear the words. “Peter is getting worse, we need a med-evac now!”
“It’s fifteen minutes out.”
“The kid-” Tony grit his teeth, lowering his voice to a growl. “The kid doesn’t have fifteen minutes.”
“Tony-”
It was serious, Peter never called him Tony, not even after two years of knowing each other.
Tony was instantly alarmed and at boy’s side.
“Yes, Peter, what is it?”
“Sick-”
The boy’s cheeks bulged and a weak gag followed. Tony helped turn his head more to the side and rubbed his stomach as acid, yellow bile was hacked up.
“You’re okay,” The man muttered, trying to ease Peter’s discomfort. “Just let it out. You’re safe, I’m here, I’m here.”
He helped clean Peter’s face the best he could with the sleeves of his white shirt. He made sure the boy’s airways were clear. Peter was weak enough as it was, he didn’t need the boy choking on his own vomit.
“Tony,” Peter sniffled and started breathing deeply, the man could sense his panic. “Am I gonna die?”
“No!” Tony wanted to believe that word. “No, you’re doing perfectly fine, Petey.”
“I’m gonna die,” Peter started crying, it did not help his wound and stress at all. Heart pumping faster meant more blood started pouring out of the wound. Tony felt sick: his blazer was now wet, dark black instead of grey.
“Peter,” He had to try to help. Tony took Peter’s hands into his own and set his other to cradle the boy’s cheek. “Sweetheart, you are not going to die. Away with those thoughts.”
He urged his team to work faster.
Keeping Peter awake was becoming a task in itself.
“No, no, no,” Tony shook the boy’s shoulders and tapped his face, “Kiddo, kiddo, no sleepy time yet.”
It took Peter longer and longer to respond, until finally, Tony could not arise the kid.
“Peter,” He shook the slim, bony shoulders so hard Peter’s head almost slammed to the ground. “Parker! Awake now! That’s an order!”
Tony felt like dying himself: Peter was deathly pale, even his lips had lost color. The boy was cold, not warm like usually. Peter was a human boiler, he knew from their sleepovers. With Peter sleeping next to you, there was no need for a blanket.
“Dear God,” Tony sniffled. “Don’t take him, please, don’t take my boy.”
Nobody answered.
Peter’s breaths waned away and Tony was alarmed by the silence.
“Kiddo,” He placed his fingers by the boy’s nostrils. Nothing.
“No,” Tony shook his head, color draining from his face. He placed his ear by Peter’s nose and mouth, desperate for a sign of life. “No, no, no, kiddo, you can’t-”
He opened the boy’s mouth, made sure airway was open and unhindered- nothing.
“Shit!” The man spat. “Okay, okay, so head back-”
At least now he could help some, Tony thought grimly. Bleeding was out of his control but the boy not breathing was something he could try and fix.
He closed Peter’s nose and pressed mouth around the boy’s lips tightly. Peter- his mouth was so small. He gave a strong exhale and made sure the boy’s chest rose.
“Kiddo, Petey,” Tony tapped the boy’s face as he exhaled the warm air. The man waited the required five seconds, looked for signs of consciousness.
Nothing.
“Don’t do this, kid,” He gave another breath. Peter was limp, his fingers did not twitch, only movement was from chest and stomach rising.
Tony kept the boy’s nose closed with one hand while the other held Peter’s jaw steady. His fingers were placed on neck vein and measuring pulse.
“Guys, I’m serious,” Tony said into the communicator: Peter’s pulse was waning, getting unsteadier. “Peter needs immediate medical help. He has lost too much blood.”
His attention was turned back to the boy as Peter gasped softly and his lids fluttered.
“Peter?” Tony tapped the kid’s face and lifted one lid: the brown eyes were rolled back.
The soft thumping became undetectable.
Tony felt his heart stopping at the same time.
“Peter,” His voice was barely a sound. “Peter, Peter, kiddo, hey, Peter!”
The boy was dead.
Tony nearly fainted as the realization hit him. He cried out, sound animalistic and full of despair.
His child, his boy, little one…
“No,” Tony shook his head. He could still help, he would help. “You won’t take him!”
He placed his shaking hands on the boy’s breastbone and pushed in with blunt force. He was exhausted from battle already, his arms sore and muscles aching but he ignored it. Peter needed him more than ever before.
Someone had to keep his heart beating.
“It’s the blood,” The man grunted. He did not stop to give breaths. Peter was unconsciously gasping as his heart was squeezed between bones. Maybe it would mean Peter would get some air.
“You lost too much blood. We just need to get you more so your heart has something to pump.”
The boy’s shoulders and hands twitched as his mentor pounded on his chest.
A rib broke.
“That’s good.”
Peter snorted with each compression, his stomach bulging while bones were forced down.
“Yep, it’s good. You’re going to be fine, just hang in there.”
It was about time for the rest of the team to show up.
“What the hell!” Tony snapped as Steve crouched on Peter’s otherside. “Set your priorities!”
“The fight just ended,” Natasha pointed out while Rhodey landed behind her. “We were two men short.”
Tony could not fight with the logic.
“Just help,” He grit his teeth and got new energy to complete chest compressions.
Clint set his bow to his back and lifted Peter’s legs higher so remaining blood would get to the boy’s heart.
“I can take over,” Steve offered. Tony shook his head although he panted from exhaustion.
“Stark, let him help,” Natasha tried to talk sense into her comrade.
“No,” Tony grunted and even shook Rhodey away. He had to do this, he did not trust anyone else not to break Peter’s heart. “We- we need- he needs blood.”
“You mean field transfusion?” Rhodey confirmed. “Here?”
Clint looked at the military man. “It’s very risky.”
“We have no other choice.” Tony said although he was out of breath. “He won’t survive like this for much longer.”
Clint bit his lip.
“He is right, it’s our one shot.”
Their first aid case was small but compact and luckily it had all the equipment needed for transfusion. They would have no way to test blood or separate different levels but it would buy Peter time until they got to the compound.
Blood finally reached Peter’s heart and brain.
The boy gasped weakly and coughed.
“Kiddo,” Tony stopped the compressions immediately and embraced him. The position was awkward, uncomfortable but the feeling of Peter’s hand touching his hair made it all worth it.
“Shh,” The man tried to ease the coughing. “You’re okay.”
“What happened?” Peter’s voice was strained and high, his chest jolting slightly with coughs that were not strong enough to clear his throat or lungs.
“You fell asleep for a second,” Tony cradled the boy’s face, his thumb wiping away some saliva from Peter’s lips. “But you’re okay now.”
Peter nodded and closed his eyes. Tony grew alarmed immediately.
“Hey! Hey!” He tapped Peter’s face and pinched his cheeks. “Eyes open.”
“Tired-”
“You can sleep later.”
“It’s set,” Rhodey taped the needle to Peter’s hand. “Who does it?”
“I will,” Tony immediately started rolling up his sleeve but Steve stopped him.
“No, Tony, you’re exhausted.”
“I am the only one who has the same blood group as he does.”
“That is true,” Rhodey grimaced.
“But your blood sugar,” remarked Clint who was still keeping Peter’s legs up.
“Just give me water or a candy bar or something afterwards. I can do this.”
He knew it was risky but nobody else was B+. It was his responsibility.
He barely felt the needle go in, now Peter and him where connected with a thin plastic tube. Tony made a fist and watched with fascination as blood began to pour out.
“You see that? Peter?” He tapped the boy’s face and Peter’s eyes opened. “That’s my blood.”
Peter blinked.
“Freaky.”
Tony willed his blood to go faster. But nothing he did quickened the process.
He could feel Peter’s life slipping away.
Ground was spiky under his back. He did not yet have dizziness or nausea, and he knew he would not complain if he experienced them.
Anything for Peter.
The boy did not gain any color. Tony grasped his hand around Peter’s fingers. He hoped squeezing motion would help warm up Peter.
“You’ll be just fine, kiddo. Just hang on, okay.”
Peter’s eyes were glazing over. His head wandered from side to side deliriously.
They were running out of time.
Peter turned to look at him. There was recognition in his eyes and love.
Tony smiled gently.
“Ben?”
Dread set into his stomach.
No, please God no.
“Tony,” Peter whispered, eyes still in the horizon. “It’s Ben. Ben is there.”
The man turned around but there was nothing but fallen stone.
He had heard stories of dying people seeing their gone loved ones in their final moments. It was said they were coming to guide the person to the afterlife.
As much as he admired Ben Parker, he was not taking his kid.
"Whatever you do, kid- If- If you see a bright light, don't go towards it. Promise me, Peter, don't go towards light. Stay here."
“He is still in surgery.”
“They are still working on him”
Words after words after words.
Tony did not care about them. He only cared about the message.
“Mr Stark, I need you to sign this.”
He did not even look at the papers as he scribbles his initials. It was for Peter, he trusted the doctors.
Or did he.
“Tony, sit down or you’ll pass out.”
Rhodey did not understand. None could understand.
Tony paced around the waiting room. He watched out the window, turned, marched to the table that held magazines and journals. He picked up one and glanced at the front page. He dropped it and walked to the coffee maker.
He did not want coffee.
“Tony.”
He did not want to sit.
“He is dead.”
The clock chimed another hour gone by.
“It has been five hours! He is dead! He is dead and they won’t let me see him-”
“Tony,” Rhodey stood up and walked to his friend. Tony was starting to sob, eyes red from tension and intense emotions of the day.
He guided the younger man to an embrace.
“I need to see him,” Tony accepted the hug but did not return it. His hands were locked against his and Rhodey’s chests, always in fighting stance. “I want him. Peter, I don’t care if he is dead or not-”
“He is still in surgery, they are working on repairing the damage.”
“Why does it take so long?”
“They are doing good, thorough job. They can’t work too fast because he lost a lot of blood and is weak.”
They separated and Rhodey set a hand on his shoulder and grasped it.
“Peter is fine. Peter will be fine.”
Tony took in a breath and nodded.
“Yes.” He wiped tears from his eyes. “He- he is okay.”
His emotions were a hurricane, shifting 180 every couple of minutes.
One moment Tony was imagining a funeral.
The next he thought about what books Peter would like.
Eventually, he decided on sorose mood.
It was better to expect the worst and end up relieved than keep up false hope.
Peter is dead, Tony repeated the mantra in his head. He is dying. He is not coming out of this.
But would saying it enough times make it a reality?
He wanted to ask others what chance Peter had of survival.
But he didn’t want anything tangible.
My boy is dead.
He was now a father without a son.
The pain was so intense it felt like a heart attack. His hands and wrists were cold.
Peter had so much stuff in the Tower, it would all have to be cleaned up.
He had to call Peter’s school and dance studio.
He had no idea how much funerals cost, Obadiah had taken care of all the arrangements when his parents had been killed.
“Mr Stark,” A nurse stepped out of the corridor and Tony almost attacked her.
“Kid, Peter- is he-”
“He is still in the surgery. His condition is severe but stable-”
“You’ve been telling me that for hours! Can’t you give me anything more concrete?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t tell you anything yet. He is hanging on, I promise you and we will tell you us soon as something happens.”
This time, no news was good news.
Three hours later, Tony was finally allowed to see Peter.
The boy had a private room, with a single bed, two night tables, couple of chairs, a television, sink, mirror and a window giving to the woods further ahead.
Tony stepped closer and sat onto a chair. He leaned forward and took Peter’s hand from under the blankets.
It was still cold.
“Oh, kiddo.”
Peter was out-cold, in a ventilator, heart monitor beeping at the side and blood being pushed through an IV into his system. He was still pale, but with just a slightest shade of pink on his lips.
“We’ll be okay,” Tony rubbed the limp hand and kissing the knuckles.
“Peter’s body was under a lot of stress,” The doctor shone a penlight into the boy’s eyes and closed the lids gently.
Tony bit his lip.
“Will he be okay?”
“I can’t tell for certain,” The man shook his head. “Next 24 hours are crucial. It is now all up to Peter whether he survives or not.”
“You can’t ask him to do that,” Tony growled and considered firing the man. “He is a child! You can’t just ask him to fight for his life! You should do it!”
“We are doing everything we can, sir,” The doctor waved his hand towards the bags of antibiotics, blood and machines that were keeping book of Peter’s vitals. “But it can’t be denied that mind is a powerful tool. If Peter doesn’t want to get better-”
“Why wouldn’t he want to get better?” Tony spat out. “Of course he wants to survive!”
The doctor was silent for a moment.
“I am not saying Peter doesn’t want to live. But his heart was under a lot of stress. Peter needs to fight and guide it through the worst. After that, after those 24 hours, his chances of survival will improve drastically. He is now susceptible to numerous complications- We are of course doing our best to prevent them but it has been proven that the faith in getting better can aid healing process.”
Tony still considered throwing the doctor out of the room.
“Once you get out of here, we are going to have a movie marathon.”
The ventilator hissed.
“That’s right, just the two of us. We are going to buy so much candy and chips and pizza. We can watch whatever you like. You have been talking about Hobbit and Lord of The Rings marathon. Or maybe Harry Potter, although I will keep my right to bitch and moan when the acting from the kids is bad.”
Peter did not answer.
Tony rubbed the small hand between his own. He tried to get blood flowing but it seemed to be useless.
“Alright, I won’t say anything negative the whole time. I will enjoy what we have, you can’t blame them for bad directing.”
Peter was silent.
Peter almost drowned under the blankets.
Realistically, Tony knew Peter would not warm up until blood had been replenished but it still made him feel slightly better. He could imagine Peter had a cold and he was merely watching his sleep, occasionally wiping his brow with a wet cloth.
He moved positions in a chair and sighed deeply.
The door opened and he was met with a smell of something creamy and spicy.
“Hey,” Wanda kicked the door open with her foot and stepped inside with a tray in her hands. “You should eat something.”
Tony looked at the pureed vegetable soup and a glass of mango juice. He considered refusal but his stomach growled in hunger.
Traitor.
“Thanks,” He whispered and took the tray. Wanda stepped to the end of the bed and gripped the railing.
“How is he?”
“Hanging there,” Tony shrugged. They kept their voices low, the doctor had warned against any kind of stressor. That was the reason the rest of the team had been allowed in for only a minute. Peter needed quiet, his heart was weak, any kind of shock could send him into a cardiac arrest.
“Do you need anything else?”
Tony shook his head and took a tentative bite of the food. It was good, he liked the spicyness.
Wanda set her hands on his shoulders, they were not yet in the hugging state. Peter had brought them a lot closer, the two youngest members of the team had hit it off like a house on fire, their wicked, intelligent minds feeding each other.
Actually, Wanda was good for Peter, he encouraged his teenage rebellion. Though, Tony had yet to fully forgive her for smuggling Peter to a nightclub: the police had raided the place and Tony had had to bail the two of them out. Peter had washed his cars for two weeks.
“Call us if anything changes.”
“I will,” Tony tapped her hand gently.
Then Peter got a fever.
Infection had set in and Tony was dying with worry.
Doctors refused to tell whether it was good or bad.
“His body is fighting, this is good, fever means healing.”
“His heart is weak. If fever gets any higher, we can expect complications.”
Tony took to bathing the kids brow with damp cloths. He placed wet towels under Peter’s armpits and by his groin, anywhere they could help.
Usually, Peter would have panted when his temperature rose but now, he was sedated, out cold and ventilator provided steady and deep breaths.
“There,” Tony took an ice chip and slid it along the boy’s chapped lip. “Now that is much better, right.”
He took the cloth from Peter’s forehead and wetted it in the originally ice water. Now, it was only slightly chilly.
“You’re doing so well, kiddo,” Tony folded the cloth into a square wiped Peter’s neck and face with it before setting it on the boy’s forehead.
“You’re so strong. So brave. Better than any of us.”
Peter was silent.
“I am so proud of you,” Tony had a hard time keeping his voice steady. “You’re so good. So selfless.”
He rubbed the limp hand between his own and kissed the cold fingers.
Tony swallowed down tears.
“I- You know I am not one for emotional stuff but- You- you should know that I- I- Shit.” The man slumped his head beside Peter.
Tony tried to open his heart, he really did but there was a block in his throat. The words refuse to come out. He knew them, had thought them out but any time he tried to form them, it felt like vomit would come out instead.
“Why is it so hard?” Tony rubbed his face and took in a deep breath. “Why can you- Why can anyone else do this but I- Shit!”
Peter deserved better than him.
“I- I- You- Peter- You are- good and important and so, so- You make the sun shine. You make my world.”
Peter deserved to hear the words.
“I am here, kiddo. I won’t go anywhere. You are not alone. I will-” Tony took the small hand between his own. “I will hold your hand and care for you. There is nothing I won’t do. You just- you just focus on getting your strength back and maybe- waking up?”
It was merely a question.
“You can sleep for as long as you want. I won’t leave. I will be your guard.”
Finally, Peter was taken off the ventilator. Tony considered throwing a party.
First night was over. Peter was still fighting.
Fever was still high but he was hanging on. Every minute without complications was a win. Every hour gave more proof that the boy would make it.
Tony did not leave the boy’s side for one second. Others brought him coffee and snacks.
“You smell this,” Tony waved the cup in front of Peter’s nose. “Ah, so lovely and dark. It’s good. You know what, if you wake up now, I’ll let you have a sip.”
Caffeine was strictly forbidden from Peter’s diet, thanks to one infamous incident of Peter having an energy drink one night of studying. It had led to an emergency call from May Parker: Peter had decided that night was the perfect time to start redecorating the entire apartment. Tony had taken the boy out of her hands, let him run around the gym and burn the excess energy. Peter had eventually crashed from his high and slept the day away, snoring slightly while his classmates took the test.
Peter did not wake up.
Tony frowned.
“Fine, I’ll just drink it all and get an ulcer. You won’t save your old man from it?”
It took hours. Rhodey brought him a blanket and a pillow so he could try and sleep but his mind was in too much of a turmoil.
The blanket was a nice touch, though.
His eyes were fixated on Peter. He covered the kid with extreme care, made sure he was in a comfortable position.
Peter’s fingers had started twitching a while ago. A clear sign he was coming out of the sedation.
Then Peter’s lids started to flutter.
Tony tried to keep his excitement in control. He had been sitting by Peter’s medside numerous times, he knew the drill. Just because Peter opened his eyes, it did not mean the boy was there yet. He remembered the first time he had waited for Peter to wake up from anesthesia. The boy had had a surgery on his wrist after an accident while testing the new web shooter settings. It had been routine, nothing drastic, but Tony had still been a nervous wreck and monitored the entire operation from behind glass doors. The first time Peter had opened his eyes but not reacted to his voice, Tony had been certain the boy had sunk into vegetative state.
“Mhm,” Peter moaned and shifted slightly. Tony grasped his hand and rubbed his fingers.
The boy was warm.
“Peter? Are you with me yet, kiddo?”
It could take hours, Tony knew it well. Peter was adjusting to the world, to the sounds and smells. His mind was still halfway in the dream land.
“-ny?”
The man brushed hair from Peter’s eyes.
“Yes, kiddo. Tony is here.”
“Tony?” The boy’s voice was small, breathy and his lids fluttered open. Peter’s eyes were dark with fatigue. Tony was certain the boy would not remember this moment.
“Yes, it’s Tony here.”
“Ben?” Peter blinked and licked his lips.
Tony grasped the boy’s hand tighter.
“Not Ben, sweetie. It’s Tony. You remember Tony?”
“Tony?”
“Yes. You are in a hospital. You are safe.”
“Safe?”
Tony brushed the boy’s hair, now he was certain Peter was not all there and was just repeating what his mentor was feeding him.
“Yes, darling. Peter is safe. Peter is safe. Peter is loved.”
“Loved…”
“So loved.”
After a week of starting morning with porridge and it still did not taste any better.
“Finished!” Peter set down the spoon and washed the after taste away with orange juice. “Do I get my surprise now?”
“Meds first!” Tony called from the kitchen.
Peter groaned. “No, again?”
“Three times a day, doctor’s orders,” Tony walked to the dinner table where Peter sat with his leg supported on a chair. The man carried a doser and opened it at the right spot.
“Vitamins, calcium, pain, antibiotics-”
“And lactic acid bacteria pills,” Peter loved those. First night at home, his stomach had been so stressed from the meds he had sat on the toilet for hours.
The boy downed the pills in one go. He was getting good at it.
“Well done,” Tony patted his shoulder absent-mindedly and pulled the wheelchair closer.
“I can do it myself!” Peter was getting sick of being treated with silk gloves and wanted more independence. But getting to a wheelchair from where he sat and keeping his leg straight proved to be too much of a challenge.
Tony let out a breath.
“Peter, let me help.”
The boy grunted but allowed Tony to wrap his arms around his chest and move him to the chair.
“Okay,” The man made sure his leg was propped up and secured, Peter wiggled a bit to find a comfortable position, sitting all day caused his buttocks to go numb.
Tony grabbed the handles.
“I can do it-” Peter grabbed the wheels.
“Let me do it, it is a surprise after all,” Tony guided the boy’s hands on his lap and started to push him forward. “Close your eyes.”
Peter obeyed him.
They rode the elevator down and Peter could recognize the road to the lab.
“What did you make for me?” He could not help asking. “Prosthetic leg? Because let me tell you, I am recovering splendidly, the doctor said so.”
��Why would I use limited resources to replace that pretty leg of yours,” Tony patted the boy’s toes and got a little wiggle in response. He stopped and turned the wheelchair a bit. “Okay, open your eyes.”
Peter squinted and then looked at his table. It was- higher.
“Check this out,” Tony pressed a button and the chair got lower and lower. Peter’s eyes snapped open.
“You got me an adjustable table?!” The boy shrieked in joy and rolled to get to his workstation. Tony had made sure to place everything like it had been, papers and projects. It was like no time had passed.
“Sure did!” The man smiled and walked behind the boy and hugged him. “I couldn’t stand a moment alone here without my little shadow.”
He placed a kiss on the boy’s cheek, a gesture affection that was becoming more and more the norm as they grew closer. He stepped back as DUMM-E rushed in to greet his “baby brother” and Peter was equally as ecstatic to see the droid. Tony watched them with a fond smile, his fingers playing with a screwdriver.
He oversaw his kids’ antics with patience, and sensed Peter would make a wonderful big brother when the time came. Sure, DUMM-E was technically older, the droid had limited capabilities of learning. Sure, he could update his data, but DUMM-E was his own person, something he made with love and thought and-
“DUMM-E, no!” Tony screamed as the droid whirled past him, pushing Peter before him. “Not down the stairs!”
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Practicing Alone
Happy belated birthday @paelfire ! I’m so sorry this took so long! Everyone this is a story of The Spine trying to practice for a concert, but well, we know how family can get. This story also has the lovely babybots that I love so much. I hope I made them true to their character! It’s longish!
Sitting in his room Spine made himself comfortable on his bed, guitar on his lap. Titanium fingers gently plucked at the strings as he ran through the cords of ‘Wired Wrong’. He let the soft sounds fill the room as he hummed along before singing.
“My brain is wired all wrong and they'll agree because it's easier to say I am gone. It’s time to face the truth in a song, I've always told myself-” His singing was cut off abruptly by two clockwork robots running into his room.
“Un-uncle Spine! Uncle Spine!” Chimed in Kitten, her hands shoved into the pockets of her dress. “Un-uncle Sp-Spine, we’re having a tea party!” She beamed up at her uncle from the door, Rabbit standing behind her, grinning like a mad woman.
That was reason to make Spine raise a brow. “That’s nice Kitten, I hope you have fun," he said with a soft smile. One that fell when both girls put their hands on their hips in unison.
“Oh, co-come on grumpy c-c-c-cogs! You can’t mope around-around your room all day. It’ll be-be-be fun!” Encouraged Rabbit, with a glint in her eye that made Spine worry.
“Thank you, you two. But I really don’t have ti-” Spine yelped as two sets of hands grabbed him and dragged him out of his room. There was hardly enough time to save his guitar before they were pulling him down the hall to a playroom.
A playroom set up with a small table set for tea. A table that wouldn’t even clear his knee.
Before he could remind them of his size, and how difficult it would be for him to fit at the table, Kitten was holding up the most glitter coated plastic tiara he had ever seen.
Holding his hands up defensively, he tried to avoid getting any glitter on him. “Come on now, Kitten. Don’t you think I’m dressed up enough?” He teased, tipping the brim of his fedora.
Said Kitten huffed and put a hand on her hip. “You got-got-gotta! It’s a prin-princess tea party!” As if to prove the point, Rabbit had her own glittering piece of plastic on.
Before he could try and come up with another excuse, Rabbit tilted her chin, just so, and gave him a pout. It was a well-practiced puppy, bunny, face, one that he still couldn’t fight.
Taking the tiara, he caved and put it on, over his fedora. “Alright, alright. Let’s have a tea party, ladies.” He winced when both girls squealed and grabbed his hands to drag him to the floor. It was an effort not to crash into the small table.
Before Spine was seated properly, Kitten was pressing a teacup into his hands. Surprisingly, it wasn’t empty.
“I made it my-my-myself!” Beaming proudly of that fact, she took a sip of her own tea.
Rabbit did the same after a curious glance into the cup. The older bot giggled to herself as she sipped politely.
Looking into his own cup, Spine tried not to pull a face. There were still leaves swimming around the tea, and twigs? Inwardly, he groaned at the ‘earthy’ tea. But they were both watching him now. Smiling politely, he took a long drink of it. He was positive there were sticks in his boiler. He was going to need to go in for serious maintenance after this.
As much as it was going to bother his boiler, Spine kept drinking the tea with Kitten and Rabbit, talking about ‘princess’ things.
Still trying to dust glitter off his hat, Spine finally found freedom from his sister and niece when Kitten had run out of her tea. Luckily even Rabbit knew better than to continue with another pot. As much as he loved his family, he hoped that was the end of his distractions.
Heading back to his room, he was quietly humming to himself, completely minding his own business. At least until there came a shriek from down the hall. Briefly, he thought about ignoring it and going back to his room. Until it came again, followed by growling.
Signing, Spine rolled his shoulders and made his way through the manor, looking for the source of the shrieks. In the kitchen, he found Hatchworth and Hatchsquirt, with the smallest badgercats he had ever seen. Raising a brow, he put a foot down to stop one from scurrying out of the room.
“Uh, hi guys. Care to explain?” He asked as the two tried to quickly stand at attention and fix their clothes, torn or wrinkled from chasing after the little creatures.
“Hi there, friendo! Nothing to explain, right Hatchsquirt?”
The smaller mustachioed robot nodded quickly to concur. “Right! We’re just playing with ‘em!” He shrank back a little when his dada sighed and slumped his shoulders.
While they tried to look as normal as possible, a feat in of itself, the badgercats had a heyday in the kitchen. They crawled into the cabinets and over the counters, knocking everything down in their wake. One managed to get into the china cabinet. The one with Iris’ fine china.
Quick on his feet Spine ran past the duo and caught the first dish as it came tumbling down from the top shelf. There wasn’t time to breath a sigh of relief as he heard the tell-tale clink of more dishes being nudged against each other. As he stood, he moved with robotic precision to catch each piece precious piece as it came tumbling down.
At his full height, Spine glared down at the tiny badgercat as it sat on the now empty shelf. Gently, he sat the dished on the shelf to be organized later. Grabbing the little pest by the scruff, he locked the cabinet and turned to face his brother and nephew again.
Holding up the angry badgercat, he gave them a rather unamused look. “Again. Care to explain?” In the time it took to save Iris’ china, the other badgercats took their chance and ran out of the room and into the rest of the manor. This was turning into a very long day.
“Dada told me about when he made badgercats!” Squeaked the tiniest automaton. “I just wanted to see if I could do it too. And I did!” He beamed proudly at that, until Spine tilted his head at that, and glared at said dada.
Hatchworth held his hands up in defense. “I did try to stop him, Spine. But you remember don’t you?” They both looked tense a moment as the memory surfaced, but it was quickly chased away when the scream of a Walter work came from down in the labs.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter how it started does it?” Letting out a suffering sigh, like a slow puncture, Spine corralled the two out of the kitchen. “Let’s try and get them all rounded up and get them out of here. I think Six still has a portal that sends things back where they belong. Bring them down to the labs, I’ll get it ready.”
The two hatched robots agreed and quickly took off down the halls to find as many badger cats as they could.
Navigating the labs was simple enough for Spine. Finding what he was looking for was another matter altogether. How anyone could anything down there was beyond him. Spine shifted through boxes and papers, trying to find what he needed to send those little critters back home to, where was home for them anyway, he wondered.
After longer than he would have liked, Spine found the machine he was looking for. Sitting it up in the lab, he fiddled with the blue matter device until it glowed and opened.
It wasn’t long until he grew tired of waiting. What was taking them so long? They got distracted by something again, must have.
Making sure to lock the door behind him, Spine made his way back up to the manor to find them. It wasn’t long at all that he found Hatchsquirt. He had managed to catch a couple of them, or rather, they had caught him.
Hatchsquirt ran down the hall, chasing after another one while pulling the one biting his shirt off him. “Come on guys! Don’t you want to go home to your mommies and daddys? Please!” He whined when the one he was after snapped at his hands.
Spine took pity on Hatchsquirt, he was doing his best. “Hey, let’s see if I can’t help you out there.” Grabbing up the badgercats, he tried to keep them from biting him, but at least they were off the younger bot. “Let’s find your dad and see how he’s faired.”
Gratefully, Hatchsquirt followed his uncle. They would pause and try and catch a stray badgercat as they crossed their path.
By the time they found Hatchworth, Spine was struggling to hold all the critters they had found. Not that Hatchworth was faring much better.
Hatchworth had his arms full and was teetering back and forth as he tried to keep his balance, while a few more danced between his feet. Seeing his brother he cried out. “Spine! I may require some assistance!”
Shaking his head, Spine chuckled and came over to try and grab the last of the rascals. “Hopefully, this is all of them.” He was more doing a juggling act than actually walking now, with all the little critters trying to get away and bite him. Sometimes it was good to be made of titanium steel.
More than once Hatchsquirt had to scamper off to grab a runaway badgercat as the trio made it down to the labs. Between the three of them, they managed to get all of them down to the locked lab. Or at least it was when Spine left.
The door was now swung open and Spine looked mildly concerned. Peeking inside, he frowned. Matter Master David was standing out the portal, throwing in books and folders?
“David, what are you doing?” Spine asked, perturbed that David was tossing away lab research.
Tilting his head back, the matter master grinned as he threw in the last of it. “This thing puts things where they go. Way easier than actually cleaning up,” he laughed. He looked curiously at the badgercats the trio was holding. “Do we need to fix Hatchworth’s hatch again?”
The three automatons were quick to shake their heads. That wasn’t a road the brothers wanted to go back to.
“Hatchsquirt wanted to try and be like his dad. And well,” Spine held up the tiny critters as a form of explanation.
That seemed to be enough for David and he walked out of the room with a nod. “Just don’t leave it on guys!” He called and shut the door behind him.
They made quick work of the menacing, biting badgercats. Through the portal they went, back home to, wherever it was that badgercats belonged.
“Thanks, friendo! I can always count on you!” Cheered Hatchworth as he slapped Spine’s back.
Before Spine could scold them for causing trouble, and remind them that their hatches weren’t toys and blue matter wasn’t safe to mess with, the boys were out the door.
Groaning, Spine pressed his face into his hand. Sometimes, his family just felt like they were a bit too much. While he knew he would always be there to look after them, every now and then, he wished he didn’t have to.
Once the portal was put away and the room back to rights, Spine made his way out of the labs. That was quite enough adventure for one day, and he couldn’t wait to go back to the comforts of his room and practice.
Was life ever that simple?
Hardly five steps down the hall and there came another scream. It was Six.
Panic gripped his boiler and he turned on his heels. Flying down the corridor he followed the sounds of the scientist’s screams for help. Losing his face was more than enough.
Finding the door was easy enough, and opening it easier. It flew off the hinges as soon as he undid the latch. Something was pulling it into the room.
Barely holding onto the door, Spine saw what was causing the pull, and was quickly back to running. Six was clinging to the cord of one of the larger lab machines. And it was inching ever closer to the open rift that Six was trying to pull himself out of. Half of the room had already seemed to be pulled through.
“Peter!” Spine cried as he reached for him. Even with his weight as an automaton, he could feel himself being pulled in too. Digging his heels as much as he could he reached for Peter.
Just out of reach Peter screamed when the cord suddenly came loose.
Without a second thought, Spine jumped. Grabbing the scientist's arm, Spine reached behind him for something, anything. His titanium fingers dug into the side of the machine Six had been clinging to as it inched ever closer. Sometimes having the arm span of a seven-foot-tall man came in handy. Spine threw Peter out of the rift and barely managed to get himself out as the machine tumbled in and was sucked into the darkness.
Before he could contemplate what had happened Six was pulling him back and firing a, rifle? At the rift, sealing it as if it never was. Six laid the gun over his shoulders and looked utterly smug, or at least as much as he could with a keyhole for a face.
“Needs a few more adjustments yet,” Six muttered to himself while he seemed to look over where the rift had been.
“What? You mean to tell me you did that on purpose?” Huffed The Spine as he pulled himself to his feet.
“Well, not exactly,” sang the masked scientist. “I wanted it to open up, but not as a black hole, suck everything in it, thingy,” he said as he wiggled his fingers where it had been. “More, open up somewhere comfortable, like my bedroom! Then I won’t have to waste so much time walking all the way down here.”
Spine narrowed his eyes at the man. Of all the half baked schemes! “Honestly, Six. You risked being sucked into a wormhole and dying in the vacuum of space, to avoid the stairs?”
Six just giggled behind his mask and shrugged at The Spine. When he just continued to give him a stern glare, his shoulders drooped. “Oh come on Spine! It’s science! It’s not supposed to be safe.”
With a suffering sigh, The Spine adjusted his tie. “You wear a lab coat to protect from radiation.”
“Well, yeah bu-,” Six was cut off by the automaton raising his hand and smirking.
“And the Walter Workers wear goggles and occasionally full masks, as not to have a repeat.” He chuckled when Peter huffed like a petulant child. “Specialized gloves are standard. We have splash guards and safe rooms to reduce radiation leaks. And protocol, such as, not working alone in the labs,” he teased. “To keep people from doing things like. Oh, I don’t know, falling through a rift in time and space?”
“Okay okay okay, I get it I get it.” Six raised his arms in defeat. “I know I shouldn’t have been alone, but come on, it didn’t turn out that bad, did it? I mean yeah, I would have died without you, but that’s happened before. And I don’t think I can get that machine back. But hey it was dusty, we probably don’t need it, right?”
Before The Spine could remind him that is was dusty because no one dusted down here, he was being shoved out the door. The lanky scientist should not have been able to manhandle him as much as he had been today, but he figured that was a mystery for another day when the door slammed behind him. “I’m going to find one of the Matter Masters. You shouldn’t be doing those tests alone!” He called through the door.
Only grumbling came as an answer as he walked to find David writing up a report. Luckily he didn’t have a problem simply finishing up in the same lab as Six, just encase.
This time, Spine wasn’t taking any chances with being disturbed by his family. Grabbing his guitar he made his way out to the manor grounds. Out by the cemetery in an ivy-covered shelter, his favourite spot, he tuned his guitar again.
So content in his own little world, he didn’t notice Zer0 and N0ughty come running up the yard. Fingers on the strings he was about to strum the first cord when his concentration was broken by the duo.
“Spine, hey Spine! The Spine?” Zer0 excitedly exclaimed as he and his son stood in front of what was once Spine’s personal space.
“Yes, Zer0?” He asked, a tad flatly. Putting his guitar down, yet again, he waited to see what emergency would befall him this time.
“Ya see! Me and N0ughty here just wanted to watch ice cream melt in the microwave! You know it’s one of my favourite things. I had to show him!”
Said N0ughtly was bouncing hastily from foot to foot, nodding rapidly to agree. “It was super cool, Uncle Spine! But then! But then, Uncle Spine, it stopped melting!”
Robot maintenance it was then. That was simple enough. Standing up, he made to suggest them going on a quick walk when Zer0 continued the story and The Spine found himself quickly sitting back down.
“Yeah! All the sudden, it was growing, like super fast! Like so fast it ate the microwave, The Spine! We didn’t know what to do! It grew and grew, Spine. It ate up the microwave and spilled over into the sink and then on the floor.” He was waving his arms erratically now as he described as the ice cream became the biggest ice cream monster he had ever seen in his life.
“Yeah! It’s really mean too! It was growlin’ and stuff at us, Uncle Spine!” Chirped N0ughty as he continued to bounce on the grass.
“And, The Spine. The worst part, The Spine. The worst part was,” he sucked in a deep breath and stomped his foot. “It won’t let us lick it, The Spine!”
“Yeah! It’s so big! It wouldn’t even notice, but it just garbled and swatted at us! Then! Uncle Spine it left, just slid out of the room!”
He blinked his optics a few times, making sure he wasn’t malfunctioning. No, no he was functioning just fine. They really just told him there was an ice cream monster in the manor, again, and opted to run all the way out here to find him.
“And it just left?” He asked, hoping against hope that it had made its way outside and he just hadn’t noticed. Just one problem avoided today, surely that wasn’t too much to ask for was it?
Of course, it was.
Zer0 shook his head. “It went down the hall and after Marshmallow. Marshie mewed and it went down the halls, leaving rocky road its wake!” He giggled as N0ughty laughed too.
Spine was far less amused. “So, you made a giant ice cream monster in the microwave, and it’s chasing Six’s cat around the manor?” He waited for the duo to nod. “And you thought the best course of action was to run all the way out here to find me?”
“Well yeah! Rabbit said she saw you coming out here a while ago with your guitar. We knew you had to be around here somewhere!” Chirped the older brass bot proudly.
Pressing his face into his hand, Spine sighed. “And you didn’t think one of the Walter Workers inside was a better idea?” When they gave him a confused look, he groaned. For one brief moment, he wished he had been crushed by a copper elephant all those years ago. Only a moment.
“You know what, forget it. Come on, you two, let’s go take care of this.” He ushered them back to the manor. The sooner this was taken care of the better. The sun was already starting to get low.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t difficult to find the ice cream monster. They just followed the sound of Marshmallow's purrs as they echoed through the manor. Said cat was sitting in a lounge with the ice cream monster. Only it wasn’t as large as Spine had been made to believe.
That might of had something to do with the large pink tongue lapping at its multiple flavours. How many tubs of ice cream had they tried to melt?
“Aw man! Pops, Marshie’s gettin’ all dat ice cream!” Whined N0ughty and his father agreed wholeheartedly.
Spine thought about letting things go, but there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind. “Aren’t cat’s lactose intolerant?”
Getting the large cat away from the ice cream monster was harder than anticipated, not that Spine thought it was going to be particularly easy. Dragging or pulling was useless. And trying to coax her away seemed fruitless. The three bots were covered in ice cream and cat hair when Marshmallow finally left the creature alone. More of her own accord than anything else. Much to The Spine’s chagrin.
Trying to wipe the hair and melted ice cream off himself, Spine groaned in disgust. He was more mess than man. Today had been more than enough for him.
Without another word to his brother or nephew, Spine left the room to get cleaned up. He would be pulling out dried ice cream from his seams until his next maintenance. All he wanted was to get clean and finally practice.
After scrubbing as thoroughly as he could manage and a change into a soft shirt in slacks to dress down for the evening, Spine found himself in a small study that didn’t seem to get a lot of use. At least not since the baby bots came to be.
In the far corner sat a box of knitting needles and yarn, dusty with lack of use. But there was always something more pressing than time to unwind. A bot needing help, or a concert to get ready for. Not that he was complaining, mind you. Not much at least.
Exhaling a long cloud of steam, The Spine leaned against the sturdy desk and readied his guitar again. Strumming the chords to make sure it was tuned, no need for a tuner with robotic audio receptors. Satisfied, he grinned and strummed the cords again to practice.
“My brain is wired all wrong and they'll agree because it's easier to say I am gone. It’s time to face the truth in a song, I've always told myself that is was never true,” he sang with a soft, sad smile. Slowly, his shoulders started to relax as he found his place behind the guitar.
That feeling was short lived when a small silver bot rounded the corner, following the sound of a familiar voice and guitar. Not that he could ever be upset with him.
“Pappy?” Pipped in Junior, clutching his plush giraffe to his chest.
“Yes, buckaroo?” Laying down the guitar, Spine knelt down to talk with his son.
“Can you teach me how to play? The guitar, I mean.” He looked up with a hopeful smile, half hidden by the plush.
Spine let out a weary sigh but smiled affectionately at the small bot. He never stood a chance against a smile like that. The boy could get away with anything, well almost anything.
“Of course, champ! Come on, let’s head to a practice room and get you set up with something a little smaller.” Grabbing up the instrument again, he guided Junior out of the room and down the corridors of the manor.
Finding something ‘Junior sized’ was the easiest part of his day. Tuning it up proper, he handed it to Junior and carefully went through the cords with him.
“There you go! You’re a natural,” he encouraged with a proud, paternal smile.
Giggling, Junior beamed at the praise. “‘Cuz I gots you for a pappy!”
They continued to play together as the other bots made their way into the room.
One by one the older bots got their children settled in with an instrument. Sitting on the floor they sang along about the tale of Rex Marksley, the finest marksmen in the west. The songs continued, heroes and villains alike, as it grew closer to the baby bots bedtime.
Helping each of them, Spine smiled warmly at his family. This was better than practicing alone any day.
#spg#The Spine#Steam Powered Giraffe#Rabbit#Zer0#hatchworth#babybots#badgercats#ice cream monster#The bots as parents!#Based on Paelfire's work
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A week of setbacks
Hey guys, I haven’t been active at all recently because the boiler in my flat was getting replaced. We haven’t had heating or hot water for a week so I wasn’t able to exercise and get showered after. The lack of heating has meant my motivation has been so low and we lost the cooker for a day too so my diet has been really awful and unhealthy recently. Hopefully the boiler gets finally fixed today and I can start the week off strong. I’ve actually missed eating healthy and I feel really restless then I want to work out, then I remember about the shower and feel so slow and guilty. Here’s to hoping it gets fixed!
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Dark Academia Women prompts
Week 2: unravel - staircase - balance - gloves - slaughter
@darkacademiawomen
I used to pick at the fraying cuffs of my gloves, pulling at the stray yarn spilling from the whole worn in the rib-stitches by the tops of my pockets. My hands back then, they were in and out of the pockets all day, every time I found a pretty stone on the ground, or a twig I could sharpen with a hundred scrapes on the ground by the wall at the far end of the playground.
Sometimes helicopter-pods would tumble down from the sycamores between our school's grounds and the graveyard of our attached church, St Helen's. Those helicopters, we'd throw them into the sky and watch them fall back to Earth, spinning into wild, desperate screams, faster and faster as they plummeted toward the brutal concrete.
Not all of them spun. Some just dropped as soon as they lost the wind, collapsing on their trajectories like broken sighs. These helicopters, they had cracks in their papery leaves, throwing them away from the paths they should have followed. It didn't matter how we tried to make them fly, how much we wished we could fix their brokennesses. I used to put them in my pockets, hoping some magic might mend their damage, but it was too late for them. It was always too late for them. Some cracks were not meant to heal.
In the tiny space between the garage, where the playground equipment was kept, and the crumbling red-brick wall that held back the raised ground of the graveyard, the ground sloped away sharply, its gradient broken up by the exposed roots of the sycamores.
Those roots, they formed a kind of ladder that we'd sometimes climb when helicopters and concrete, and the frustration they brought, became tedious. There was only so much time you could spend watching a broken thing fail.
From the playground, you could climb that root-ladder up to the worn-down dirt path that ran along the top of the wall, bordered on one side by trees, and, on the other, by a rickety, cast-iron railing, posted all along by poles, each ending at its top with a sharp spike. We used to cling to the railing and shuffle sideways along that path until we reached the part that seemed most precarious, where the dirt gave way to thin air, and, ten or twelve feet below the last traces of metal, that concrete, and all the ruined helicopters that littered it.
We would crouch right there, feet, in black leather StartRite shoes, braced against the lower part of the railing, tiny hands gripping fists around the poles, and we stare out across the vast expanse of the playground. It was a difficult balance to strike, to find that hidden place between the shadows cast by the sycamores, and the perfect viewpoint to watch our peers running across the netball court, to the climbing-frames, to the willow tree, to the tyres that filled with all the oak leaves that blew in from the road. One inch, one breath out of that balance, and we would be spotted in an instant.
"Get down from there!" the giants would boom, huge, looming shadows striding towards us, and grabbing our ankles, so that we could not run, could not escape the scalding scolding that invariably followed our apprehension.
In cowed silence, we would climb down the ladder again, and line up against the garage wall, the pebble-dash panels digging into our backs.
"Look at your nails! Look at all the dirt underneath them. You'll try and wash it off, try and wash it away, but you'll never get rid of the dirt in the deepest parts, will you? You'll have to look at it all day, so you will! And serve you right, too; you've brought it on yourselves, yes. And don't you dare start crying, don't you dare. Let that disgusting dirt remind you what you did. And let that be a lesson to you, so you'll think before you do anything so stupid again."
But we never learned. The dirt was barely there, barely remained after we'd scrubbed our nails. And so we never learned.
Maybe there was nothing to learn. We could never understand what all the fuss was about. Really, we pondered, what was so terrible about our climbing? Would the bricks crumble, the close-packed dirt unravel, and the graveyard crash into the playground? Would the dead lie where the living played, children dancing on a carpet laid down as if by a slaughter?
It didn't matter after they put up a lattice in the space between the garage and the red brick wall. That fine wooden mesh, a dividing line, a final dividing line between the school and the graveyard. That secret world under the sycamore trees, forever tangible, forever visible, but forever just out of reach of our grasping fingertips.
When the rains and the humid heat of summer rotted the lattice away at last, we were older, and bigger, and that space was too small for us, too small by far.
The bricks crumbled in a storm, and the strong winds brought a tree down across the gap that remained, and then vanished.
Still, the helicopters dropped from the line of sycamores, but we knew throwing them would bring us no joy, not without the promise of that ladder, and the hiding-place beyond it. The following autumn, I took my thick coat out of the boiler cupboard at home, and dug through the pockets. The pods had lingered through the year, but they were no better than they had been.
Their wings were cracked, and some cracks were not meant to heal.
I wrote this last night, and typed it up this morning. Last night was, uh... kind of difficult, but I’m doing better today. It looks like, despite what I said about wanting to write more dark academia, and how a lot of my younger life would fit that quite well, writing dark academia is really hard for me because of that. However, I’m hoping if I stick at it, it’ll get easier, or at least bring me some kind of peace, so I’m going to keep writing, and I’ll hopefully have more DA for you soon, if I can fit it in around my NaNoWriMo and my university work (not in that order; I’m a good student, I swear).
#dark academia#darkacademiawomen#dawnet#writing prompt#writing prompts#short writing#original writing#autobiographical#autumn#sycamore#wings#childhood#unravel#staircase#balance#gloves#slaughter#school#fall#original nonfiction#creative nonfiction#my writing#memoir#memory#repressed memory#trauma#writeblr
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Missing Chapter Twenty Eight
Note: Please excuse the long absence, a combination of being metaphysically hit by the fandom feels and being hit by actually physical issues with my crumbling bones interfered with my ability to write this chapter. I'm still pretty unwell but I'm going to catch up on all of my fics this month hopefully.
As always, I recommend you check out my novel on Kindle if you like my work, and there's the added bonus that if I get struck by lightning or have another embolism you will have something to read while I'm in the ICU, cursing the lack of wifi.
US link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BGSPPBY
UK link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07BGSPPBY
Also, soon to be available in paperback form!
…..
Waring's lawyer tried to argue for an insanity plea, but it was rejected. There was no doubt he was insane, but functional enough to kill so many women and keep a kidnapped child hidden for nearly half a year. He was given three consecutive life sentences, narrowly avoiding the death penalty because there was limited proof that he had killed the missing women. The prosectution was quoted as saying that without Helga's testimony he might have walked away.
That was some consolation during the week she spent in an induced coma followed by an intense surgery to relieve some of the pressure on her brain. The nosebleeds had been a herald of something that could easily have killed her, and there was still no telling what effect it would have on her long-term. When she came to after surgery, she couldn't speak and had trouble moving her arms.
It was depressing, Arnold had to admit. She had come so far he had pretty much assumed it could only get better, even though he'd been warned multiple times she could slide back like this. He was lying on his bed at home, staring at the ceiling and wallowing in his unhappiness, when his phone pinged.
It was Phoebe, of course, because she was the only person who really texted him.
Arnold, you might want to
come down to the hospital.
Why? What's up?
He had that sinking feeling it was going to be bad news.
She's talking again and
she seems okay, but she's
acting strange.
Strange in what way?
I don't know how to
explain it properly
over text.
Can you at least try?
She thinks she's dead, Arnold.
What? How?
I don't know, apparently
it's something that happens.
I don't know what to do.
Is she being treated for it?
We're waiting on the psychiatrist,
they probably won't get one until
tomorrow. I'm trying to act
normal but it's really hard.
Is there a way to act
normal in this situation?
This is why you need to
be here, Arnold. She
remembers what we did
when she was a ghost.
What?
Just get down here when
you can, okay?
…..
When he finally made it to the hospital (Ambrose was away getting some things sorted with his estate and so couldn't drive him) Phoebe had left. Helga's main doctor caught him in the corridor before he could go into Helga's room.
“Cotard delusion,” the doctor sighed, as if that explained anything. “It's not uncommon with brain injury. At least she's not self-harming or suicidal, she's taking it pretty well.”
“But...she thinks she's dead?” Arnold wondered.
“Specifically, she thinks she's a ghost,” the doctor explained. “And she's kind of upbeat about it. Most Cotard patients are manic or depressed or a combo of both. All things considered, it's not a bad result.”
Arnold wondered sourly how Helga suddenly believing she had died wasn't a bad result, but he supposed that was what separated the doctor from the normal civilian. She didn't die or become a vegetable after surgery, which technically meant it was a success.
She was scribbling something in her newest pink notebook when Arnold entered the room, but shut it hastily when she realized he was there.
“Thank God,” she muttered darkly. “Someone sensible.”
“Sensible?” Arnold laughed. “Are you sure about that?”
“Depends on what words come out of your mouth in the next few sentences,” Helga quipped. “Apparently everyone can see me now. At least here in the hospital anyway...”
“Well, yeah they can see you,” Arnold chuckled awkwardly. “You're alive.”
“God, not you too,” she groaned, flopping back against the pillow. “Phoebe already tried this, I know I'm dead. Don't try to sugarcoat it.”
“Why do you think you're dead?”
“I got shot,” she shrugged, seemingly without a care. “We found out that much. Who survives getting shot in the head?”
“You did,” he pressed. “The bullet just grazed you, the medical records prove this. Why do you think the nurses and doctors are treating you, if you're dead?”
“They don't believe in ghosts,” Helga answered. “It's easier to believe I'm just some sick kid that needs treatment. I suppose if I was going to manifest somewhere besides your house it would be the hospital I died in.”
It made a crazy sort of sense, at least from her perspective.
Maybe I should play along, at least until the psychiatrist can come to treat her.
“Okay, fine,” he shrugged, trying to put on a casual face. “You're dead. Did anyone tell you the guy who shot you got three life sentences?”
“Yes, everyone who's come to see me since I manifested,” she said. “And now you. Good. Let him rot in there.”
“So we did what we set out to do, we found out what happened to you.”
“Guess so.”
“What now? If you were a ghost, wouldn't you have moved on after we solved the case?”
“I don't know,” she moaned. “I'm not some sort of authority on ghosts.”
“Well then, it looks like you're here to stay,” Arnold said agreeably. “You're still welcome to haunt the boarding house.”
“I might just do that,” she said, smiling warmly.
An idea suddenly struck Arnold.
“I'm just going to find something,” he told her, getting up from his chair. “Oh, and I should talk to your doctor...”
“About what?”
“If I find it, I'll tell you.”
He hurried off to find the nurse's lounge. After asking a few of them, he found one with a bike she was willing to lend him and it had a basket on the handlebars (smaller than the one on his own but that didn't matter. He okayed it with the doctors, as long as he kept her warm and didn't stay out too long he was able to take her out. Rushing back to her room, he bundled her into her wheelchair and wheeled her out to the front of the hospital, where the nurse had propped up the bike waiting for them.
“Even ghosts need some fresh air,” he explained, lifting her into the basket he'd lined with pillows.
He took her out through one of the rarely-used country roads, bumpy and rough as it was the air was so clear and crisp and fragrant with the scent of blossoming fruit trees. She laughed wildly as they skittered over potholes and bumps in the road and didn't seem to mind that her bare feet were getting splattered with mud. Arnold's arms and legs ached with the strain of pushing the bike through the rocky terrain but it was worth it to see her so happy.
The bare patch of skin on her hairline where the bullet had struck her was covered by gauze since her surgery, but it brought back memories of hauling her ghost form around in his bike like this. Back then, he had come to terms, at least a little, with her death. He was more fearful now that she was living, that things could go wrong and she could be snatched away again. At least as a ghost, nobody would be able to hurt her.
Maybe that's why she believed herself to be dead; for protection.
…..
“I'll be going now,” Gertie told Arnold, kicking him out of his half-sleep.
“No, Grandma,” he groaned, rolling over in bed. “You don't have anywhere to be.”
She was wearing her coat but no shoes. Keeping shoes on her was the hardest task, even if she didn't leave the boarding house she seemed to lose her shoes within minutes of putting them on. Arnold brought her downstairs, took her coat and put some slippers on her feet. Phil was already at the breakfast table, frowning at some bills.
“Everything all right, Pookie?” he asked when Gertie sat down.
She didn't say anything but mumbled to herself a little. She was irritable these days, the new medication made her groggy and confused.
“I'll get started on breakfast,” Arnold offered.
Phil grunted in response and went back to scanning his bills.
A spike of resentment fired up in Arnold as he took out the ingredients to feed everyone in the boarding house. It was the weekend, and he should have had less work to do since Ambrose had started more or less renovating the building, but he'd found himself taking over his grandmother's old jobs instead. He appreciated Phil's money worries, but would it kill him to say thank you?
Other teenagers had the luxury of rebellion. Arnold didn't even have enough time to himself to get an ill-advised tattoo.
“Hey Arnold,” Ambrose said, leading Della into the kitchen. He was a naturally early riser. “On breakfast duty today?”
“Guess so,” Arnold shrugged.
“I'm going down to the hospital later. You wanna hop in?”
“Sure,” Arnold agreed. “Any news from the doctors?”
“They say another month and she should be good to come home,” Ambrose told him. “She has to be monitored by a home visitor but that's no big thing...and I almost got the ramp finished.”
Finally. They'd be living under the same roof. Helga remembered the things they did when she was a ghost, and at some point the Cotard delusion would fade.
She kissed me back. I know she did. It's not just me.
Once the scrambled eggs he cooked were ready, he piled them onto a platter, buttered enough toast to feed an army and brought both into the dining room.
“Ambrose is giving me a lift to the hospital,” he told Phil. “I should be back around ten or...”
“What?” Phil snapped, dropping his bills for probably the first time all morning. “No, I need you here.”
“I don't have any homework,” Arnold shrugged, that little resentful spike pricking him deep. “And the boiler's fixed, Ambrose finished up last night...”
“There's a pile of laundry higher than the kitchen door,” Phil retorted. “None of the floors have been vacuumed in a week and there's weeds all over the garden. Now I've been patient with this hospital business as long as you kept up with your chores...”
“Chores?” Arnold snorted. “Chores are cleaning your room and taking turns with the dishes, not doing laundry for an entire apartment building of adults!”
“Watch it,” Phil growled. “This is your home, you're as responsible for it as I am.”
“No, I'm not,” Arnold growled back. “I didn't choose to live here and I sure as hell never agreed to work here. You've had me doing what should be your job since I was six, you pay me next to nothing for the work I do, you ruined my social life and you're killing my future!”
Arnold hadn't realized but his voice had been climbing in volume, and now there was a line of awkward lodgers standing in the hall, not wanting to come in for breakfast. Phil looked shocked, the bills crumpled in his hands, two bright mortified spots on his cheeks. Even Ambrose and Della back in the kitchen had gone silent.
“Well,” Phil said at last. “If that's how you feel....you know where the door is.”
That just made Arnold even angrier. Over the years Arnold had been such a good kid, never given either of his grandparents any trouble, never even been caught smoking or taking a few dollars from a wallet or ditching school. And this was what he got for a lifetime of good behavior.
“Yes, I do,” he said as he stomped past the lodgers to the front door.
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Down but not Out
Well it’s taken literally MONTHS but I finally finished ONE of the requests I was sent for an Eren x Annie prompt! It started off pretty short and sweet and 1000 words turned into 2000 and so on until it reached 7000. So @nakamatoo here is the result of your request I hope you like it and if you do let me know :)
When Annie’s eyes opened at the sound of her alarm she had to fight the urge to close them again and try and go back to sleep, she might have if her bedroom wasn’t so cold. Shivering as she threw the covers off of her Annie stretched her arms over her head and yawned loudly. As she stood up to make her bed she looked longingly at her pillows, before she could act on her urges Annie sighed and took off her top as she headed into the shower.
As Annie reached out to turn the shower on she bit her lip and hoped. “Please, just work.” She said under her breath. When water shot from the shower head Annie let a sigh of relief however her respite was short lived when she put her hand in the steam, recoiling at the icy water she swore to herself. “Dammit, I thought he said he fixed the boiler.” With a hot shower out of the question Annie braced herself against the cold and washed herself as quickly as possible.
Stepping out of the shower Annie felt the cold air prick her skin like icy needles that followed her wherever she went, her clothes fought off most of the cold but she could still feel herself shivering as she made her way into the kitchen. Annie headed straight for the kettle and began boiling some water, as she waited to make her morning coffee she opened the fridge to make some breakfast. Her heart sank in her chest when she saw the pitiful amount of food she had.
“He said he’d go shopping yesterday.” She groaned. “I’ll pick something up on the way to school.” Annie sighed as she closed the fridge and poured the now boiling water into her travel mug. Before she left Annie made sure to slam the front door as loudly as possible.
As she walked Annie clutched onto her mug and tightly as she could to absorb what warmth she could. Looking up at the sky she found herself biting her lip at the sight of dark grey clouds gathering overhead. “I better hurry.” She said to herself as she began walking faster.
It didn’t take her long to get to the store she visited every morning on the way to school. Once inside she took a moment to relish in the warmth of the air conditioning. Annie hummed as she looked between the shelves, following her growling stomach she found herself staring longingly at the fresh pastries the store would bake every morning.
Only when she reached into her pocket did she remember that her father hadn’t left her any money to buy lunch or breakfast for that matter. For a moment Annie considered trying to sneak the food out of the store without being seen, shaking her head she shifted the thought from her head as she turned around to leave.
She was about to walk out the door when someone came up behind her. “Excuse me.” Said the voice. Annie turned around to see a boy wearing a store uniform with a small badge on his chest.
“What?” Annie asked after reading the name tag.
The boy stepped back and pointed to the array of breads and pastries. “Didn’t you like the look of anything?” He asked
Taking another moment to look at the badge and memorize the name Annie sighed. “No, Eren. I just changed my mind.”
“It’s just that my manager wanted me ask for feedback on the bakery.” Eren explained.
Annie smirked and crossed her arms. “Well I don’t have any feedback to give, now I have to go to school.”
“Wait!” He called out. “I… I’ll let you take anything you want, just give me some feedback.”
At the prospect of food Annie’s stomach growled loudly. Slowly she turned around and looked past Eren and focused on the food behind him. “Anything?”
Eren smiled and nodded. “Anything you want!”
“Fine, this is my feedback. The staff can be a little pushy and overbearing but the products are worth putting up with them.” She said with an icy smirk.
Eren’s smile flickered slightly as Annie walked past him. “T-thank you,” He stuttered as Annie walked past him to make her pick. “Also don’t choose anything too expensive or I’ll get in trouble.”
“You said anything,” Annie cooed. “So I’m going to chose anything I want.”
“Fine,” Eren sighed as he stepped behind the counter. “Just hurry before my manager gets back.”
With a smile on her face Annie reached out to pick a couple of small baguettes, she held them in her hands relishing in warmth that the dough was emitting. After making sure she didn’t want anything else Annie walked up to the counter. Eren eyed up her choice and hummed. “Do you not want anything to go with that?” He asked.
Annie felt a knot of shame tie itself around her chest, she couldn’t and wouldn’t explain her situation. Instead she shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”
Eren narrowed his eyes and hummed, he looked at her frame and dark circles that clung around her blue eyes. After scanning her items he reached under the counter, all Annie could hear was incoherent mumbling as Eren searched for something. “Ah here it is,” He muttered to himself. “Take this.” He said holding out a silver flask.
“What is it?”
“The baguettes,” Eren said pointing to the bread in Annie’s bag. “They go really well with soup, I mean if you like tomato that is.” He smiled.
“But isn’t it yours?”
With a shrug Eren reached out and put the flask in Annie’s hand. “You can give it back to me next time you come here.”
Annie looked at the silver tube in her hand and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Why though?”
Once again Eren shrugged, “You look like you need it more than me.” He said with a smirk.
Suddenly aware of how she much look Annie scowled at him before turning and leaving.
Annie made it through the school gates just as the rain began pouring from the sky, looking down at her phone she smiled. “I’m even a little early.” She said to herself as she headed towards her locker. Once Annie had stored away her lunch she headed to class.
As she walked down the corridor towards her classroom someone called out to her, turning around she found herself looking into the tired grey eyes of her teacher. “Do you have the forms I asked you to bring?”
“No. My father wouldn’t sign them.”
The teacher sighed and rubbed his eyes. “This is the third time this has happened. Maybe I should phone home.”
“No,” Annie said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry Mr. Ackerman, I’ll talk to him tonight.”
Levi crossed his arms. “Please get it done. You said you wanted to go to college right?” Annie nodded. “Then I need those forms.” He said turning and walking away leaving Annie with balled fists in the corridor.
When she finally made it to her classroom she sat down at her desk towards the back of the room and leant back in her chair. Once again the urge to close her eyes arose as her eyelids grew heavy, she was about to indulge herself when someone slapped their hand on her desk. “Morning ice queen.” The voice scoffed.
Annie opened her eyes to see Porco and Marcel standing over her with wicked grins on their faces. “Doesn’t look like you slept too well last night. Was your drunk of a dad being too loud?” Porco snorted.
“Go away,” Annie groaned. “I don’t have the energy to deal with you.”
Marcel frowned, he was about to make a comment on her appearance when a tall figure appeared behind him. “Guys, leave her alone.” Bertholdt said.
“We were just having some fun.”
Bertholdt crossed his arms. “Well fun’s over, Mr. Ackerman will be here soon so just sit down.”
The two brothers looked at each and shrugged before heading back to their seats. Once they were gone Bertholdt look down to Annie. “I’m sorry about them, I keep telling them-”
“It’s fine,” Annie said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“They shouldn’t treat you like that, and the things they said about your dad were-” Once again Annie interrupted.
“I said it’s fine!” Annie snapped. “Just go sit down and leave me alone.”
Seeing that he wasn’t wanted Bertholdt turned and walked away leaving Annie as she wanted. As he sat down at his own desk he took a moment to look over his shoulder at her before turning his attention to the front.
Now finally alone Annie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Hopefully, Ackerman won’t notice if I sleep through first period. She thought to herself with a thin smirk. Once Levi came into the room and started the lesson Annie found herself thanking her small frame, being at the back of the class allowed her to be near enough invisible as she rested her head on the desk and quickly fell asleep.
It was a light, dreamless sleep but it was rest none the less and once she opened her eyes towards the end of the lesson Annie felt slightly refreshed. Since she had slept through most of the lesson Annie didn’t bother paying attention to what few minutes were left, instead, she thought to the flask of hot soup that was waiting for her and before she could stop herself a small smile spread from cheek to cheek.
Once class ended Annie gathered her things to leave when Levi stopped her. “Annie, I need to talk to you. Everyone else you’re dismissed.”
Annie balled her fists as she slowly sat back down and watched as her classmates walked past her.
“Someone pissed off Ackerman.” Porco scoffed.
Marcel smirked as he walked past her. “What did she do this time?”
Porco shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
“Sir. Why am I here?” Annie asked once everyone was gone.
Levi looked up from his desk and sighed. “I know you think no one can see you at the back so you can nap whenever you want but this is my classroom.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Annie said. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“You keep saying that,” Levi said. “I’m your teacher, it’s my job to look after you. Now here is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.”
Annie balled her fists. “There’s nothing wrong. I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
Rubbing his eyes Levi stood up. “I’ve let you off too many times Annie. Next time you fall asleep in class I’ll have to call home.”
“Understood.” Annie said before turning, grabbing her bag and leaving.
Once in the corridor Annie walked through the crowds of people towards her locker, Levi’s warning weighed heavily on her shoulders. It has to be now that Ackerman notices. She thought to herself. I guess that means no more naps in class. She huffed as she reached her locker.
Just as she opened her locker a hand shot out and slammed it shut, turning her head Annie found herself looking up at Porco and Marcel. “What did Levi want with you?” Ignoring them Annie pushed Porco’s hand out of her way and opened her locker again. “Going with the silent treatment again?” Annie remained silent as she opened her locker again and once again Porco slammed it shut. “I’m talking to you!” He snapped.
“And I’m ignoring you,” Annie retaliated. “Now go away.”
Taking a step forward Porco gave a twisted smile as he stood to his full height. Pushing Annie out of the way he opened her locker. Balling her fists Annie went to stop him when Marcel put himself between them while his brother emptied the contents of her locked on the floor.
It didn’t take long for Porco to chuckle to himself as he picked out the metal flask. “It’s still warm,” He hummed. “Where did you get this?”
“It’s not mine,” Annie said as she stepped forward and looked up at Marcel. “Now give it back.” She glared.
Proco looked between the flask in his hand and Annie before smirking. “You know what? I’m feeling pretty hungry. I might keep this.”
Annie could feel her blood begin to boil in her veins. She raised her fists and took half a step back when Porco slammed her locker door shut. “Put your little lady fists down” He scoffed. “You lay a finger on us and we tell Ackerman and Ackerman tells your dad and we all know how that’ll go,” A finger of ice crawled up Annie’s back as a sickeningly venomous smile spread across the brother’s lips. “Glad you agree.” He laughed walking away leaving Annie alone.
It didn’t take long after Porco and Marcel left for Annie’s growling stomach to snap her out of her trance. Slamming her fist against her locker she fought the urge to chase after them, instead she took a deep breath and turned to leave the school.
Not caring for her other lessons Annie silently and stealthily left the school without being noticed. It wasn’t the first time she had snuck out of school and she knew each time she did it could be the last but by this point Annie had had enough of that building and the people inside.
As she walked Annie rubbed her eyes. “I guess I need to apologise to Eren and buy a new flask for him,” She said to herself as she approached the store. “Even after he let me take that bread for free this morning this is what I do.” Annie came to a stop just outside of the shop, she found herself unable to take the last few steps, only when the clouds opened once again did she go inside to seek shelter.
The moment she stepped through the door Annie was greeted by the same voice she heard earlier that morning. “Welcome- wait. What are you doing here?” Eren gawked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“I-I needed to step out.” Annie said stuffing her hands in her pockets.
Eren stepped out from behind the counter and crossed his arms. “If you’re here for more free bed that’s not going to happen.”
“No,” Annie said shaking her head. “It’s about the flask you gave me.”
Eren’s expression quickly softened. “What about it?”
“It...it was taken from me, I don’t have it anymore.” As she spoke Annie couldn’t bear to make eye contact with him.
“Oh. I see.” He hummed.
“Don’t worry I’ll get a new one as soon as-” Eren raised his hand to stop her.
“It’s fine,” He said with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
Annie narrowed her eyes. “No. I’ll pay you back, I don’t to feel like I owe you.”
Eren hummed. “If that’s the case… why don’t you work my shift with me?” He suggested.
For a moment Annie was stunned silent, she took a step back and looked at for any sign of sarcasm in his expression. When she didn’t see any Annie stepped forward again. “What do you mean?”
With a shrug Eren gestured to the aisles around them. “There’s a lot to do and the person who was supposed to take this shift with me bailed so I could use the help. It’s a win-win,” Annie looked nervously looked around her unsure of what to do and it didn’t take Eren long to see the worry in her eyes. “Oh don’t worry, it’s nothing too difficult. Just stacking some shelves, helping with a couple deliveries. That sort of stuff. I could even pay you for your time as well.”
“Are you allowed to do that?” Annie asked.
Once again Eren shrugged. “I’ll just dock it as extra time, there’s a spare uniform in the back I’ll go get it. Just stay there.”
“But I haven’t said yes yet.”
Before leaving Eren turned around and smirked. “Then think about before I get back.” He said before disappearing in the back. While he was gone Annie stood in silence as she waited for him to return, while waiting she looked to the door and wondered if she should leave but Annie quickly pushed the thought from her head.
“I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go.” She said to herself moments before Eren reappeared.
“I’m not sure what your size is but I hope this one fits,” He said handing over the folded clothes. “You change in the back, just close the door and come out when you’re ready.”
Annie nodded before walking past the counter and into the back room, she changed as quickly as possible. The shirt Eren had given her was too big for her and hung from her frame, tucking it into her trousers she sighed at her reflection in the small mirror. Stepping outside Eren chuckled. “Sorry, that was the smallest one we had.”
Looking down at the way the outfit fitted on her Annie couldn’t help but smirk. “It’s fine,” She said. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Follow me.” Eren said with a smile as he lead her through the store.
(Several hours later)
Annie stood up on the tips of her toes as she reached for the highest shelf on the aisle, gritting her teeth she pulled down the products on the list Eren had given her. After stacking her trolley with everything from the shelves Annie began restocking them with the fresh produce, she was so focused on her work that she didn’t hear Eren coming up behind her.
“You need some help with that?” He asked.
Upon hearing his voice Annie yelped and turned on her heels as quickly as possible, moving before she could stop herself Annie sent a tightly balled fist into the direction of Eren’s voice. The instant she felt her fist connected with something soft she instantly regretted her actions. Eren fell to his knees clutching his midsection as he violently coughed.
“I-I’m sorry. You surprised me.” Annie stuttered.
Eren waved his hand as he stood up. “It’s okay,” He coughed. “You’ve got a hell of a punch. He added.
“You’re not pissed at me?”
After brushing down trousers Eren shook his head. “Nah. It was my fault for sneaking up on you. Anyway where did you learn to hit like that?”
Annie looked down at her fists and smirked. “My dad taught me. He said that no one else is going to look after me so I might as well learn how to look after myself.”
Eren narrowed his eyes as he reached up past her to stock the shelves. “Your dad seems to have an… interesting opinion.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s not a bad thing to rely on others for help. Trust me when I say there are things you can’t do yourself,” Eren explained as Annie handed the rest of the products. “I’d always get into fights by myself, saying I could handle it all myself but the bruises told a different story,” He chuckled. “My friends always told me to go to them if I got into trouble and one day I did.”
“And how did that go?”
Eren gave her a wide smile and gestured to his body. “No more bruises.”
“So you and your friends go around getting into fights?” Annie asked with crossed arms.
“No,” Eren said shaking his head. “They stopped me getting into fights.”
Annie looked down. “Oh.” She sighed clutching her sides.
Eren put his arms at his sides and hummed. “You look like you could do with some friends,” Annie didn’t respond, instead she turned on her heels and walked back to the counter. Without a word she disappeared into the back, it was only when he realised that she had gone did Eren go to follow her only to be stopped at the door. Eren bit his lip as he slowly knocked on the door. “Hey, you okay in there?”
His answer came when Annie opened the door, she had changed out of the uniform and had changed back into her own clothes. “I didn’t realise the time,” Annie said as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’ve got to get home.”
“Oh, yeah sure.” Eren said as he walked to the counter. “I’ll get your pay. You know if you ever want to earn a little more cash I can talk to my manager about getting you a shift.” He suggested.
Annie took the money from his hand and turned on her heels to walk out giving only a quiet thanks under her breath. Once she was gone Eren leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I hope she comes back.” He said to himself before getting back to work.
While walking home Annie stuffed her hands in her pockets, she decided to enjoy the brief break in the weather and walk the long way home. Annie rarely chose this route due to the fact it was difficult to predict or trust the rain clouds that would suddenly appear. This time, however, the sky had finally cleared and she was going to make the most of it.
“Maybe I should take Eren up on his offer,” She hummed. “If I saved up enough perhaps I could help pay for a new boiler… or some actual breakfast. And besides he doesn’t seem so bad.”
Looking up at the sky one last time to check for any signs of rain Annie smirked as she set foot on the large footbridge that spanned the river that separated her from home. Ever since she was little Annie would spend whatever time she could around the bridge and listen to the running water, it was one of the few things that managed to calm her after an argument with her father or fight at school.
As she leant against the railing Annie let out a loud yawn. She didn’t realise just how tired she was. “I guess stacking shelves is harder than I thought.” She scoffed to herself as she closed her eyes and focused on the sound of rushing water.
Annie could have stayed there for hours if her growling stomach hadn’t reminded her that she hadn’t eaten all day. “Guess I’ll pick something up on the way home. I better not go to Eren’s store though, that’d be awkward.” She smirked as she walked across the rest of the bridge, it took her longer than she hoped but with the money Eren had given her Annie bought herself something that would both silence her stomach and serve as dinner for her and her father.
That evening she walked home with a genuine smile on her lips for the first time she could remember.
Once she got home Annie opened the front door as quietly as she could, it was unlikely that her father had woken up since she had left that morning. Silently she slipped inside and closed the door, Annie reached out and turned the light on. She gasped at the sight in front of her.
Her house was a mess, it looked as if a storm had blown through her home. Broken glass lined the floor and corridor leading to the kitchen where she could hear someone walking. Annie put her bag on the floor and tightly balled his fists as she slowly stepped forward. With her guard raised she walked over the broken glass and debris that was scattered across the floor, only when she heard a familiar voice did she let out a sigh of relief.
“Dad,” She said as she walked to the kitchen. “What happened?”
The man took his heads out of his palms and looked at his daughter. “You’re here. Good,” He said. “I need you to go pack your things.”
Annie took half a step back. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Go pack your things. Zeke will be here to pick us up in an hour.”
“What’s happening?” She asked.
Annie’s father stood from his chair and walked towards her. “You don’t need to know. All you need to do is pack your things!” He shouted.
Normally Annie would have felt herself shrink underneath his tone but the moment he stepped into the light all of her attention was focused on the dark purple bruise around one of his eyes and the blood trailing down from a cut on his lip. “What happened to you?”
“I said you don’t need to know!” The weight of his tone made Annie feel even smaller than her father. “Now go!”
It didn’t take long for Annie to connect the dots. “Who was it this time?”
Her question was met with a firm blow to the side of her head, pain shot through her head as Annie crashed into the side of the hallway. “Don’t ask. Just do!” Clutching at her temple she stumbled back and found herself looking into her father’s eyes. “Now go.” He said in a much deeper voice.
Gritting her teeth as she made her way upstairs Annie winced at the burning in her cheek and temple. Once she stepped into her room she slammed the door shut and looked at herself in the mirror, Annie hissed at the sting of her already bruising skin.
Annie could feel her blood begin to boil in her veins as she tightly balled her fists. “If he wants me to go. Then I’ll go.” She growled under her breath.
Moving as quickly and quietly as she could Annie stuffed whatever clothes she could find into the largest bag she could reach. It didn’t take her long to gather what few valuables she had and before long Annie had slung her backpack over her shoulder and was staring out of her small window. This wasn’t the first time Annie had snuck out of her window, but she had decided that it would be the last.
Annie barely took a second to look back at her home before walking away into the setting sun with a steeled heart, it was only when she turned the first corner at the end of her street did she begin to question herself. “Now what?” She whispered to herself, Annie balled her fists as she bit her lip. “I guess… I could ask Bertholdt if I could stay at his,” She sighed distastefully at the thought as she pulled out her phone. “I don’t have to ask just yet.” She shrugged, walking towards the bridge.
Now that she knew she had nowhere to go Annie walked at her own pace and despite having so no idea where she would stay or what she would do now that she had left her home Annie felt unusually light. She was so distracted by the easing of her shoulders she didn’t notice the clouds gathering overhead.
Sitting down on the bridge Annie leant back against the thick metal supports and looked down at her feet hanging over the edge and the flowing water far below her. Since sneaking away the sun had long since dipped below the horizon leaving her with only the lights on the bridge to see with. It took the feeling of rain on her head to shake her from her trance. “Of all times, it had to start raining now?” She sighed. As if on cue the rain suddenly began falling much harder and before long she was soaked to the skin, pulling her hood over her head Annie brought her knees to her chest as she huddled for shelter.
Normally she would have found the sound of rain against the metal calming, therapeutic even but after nearly an hour Annie was well and truly sick of it.
“Um, excuse me,” Annie took her hood down and stuck her head around the metal beam. “Are you okay up there?” In the weak, murky light Annie could just make out the faint green in the stranger’s eyes as he looked up from his umbrella.
“Eren?” Annie gawked. “What are you doing here?”
Lowering his umbrella Eren crossed his arms. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“What’s it to you?”
“I saw someone sitting on the edge of a bridge in the middle of the night whilst it’s raining. I was worried… you were going to, you know. Jump,” He explained. “And I didn’t know it was you.” Eren added mumbling under his breath.
Annie rolled her eyes. “So you spend your nights patrolling bridges looking for lonely people on bridges?”
“No, I was walking home from work. And are you lonely?” Annie turned her head away from Eren’s question. “Are you?” He pried.
“I’m fine!” She snapped.
Eren leant against the edge of the bridge and smirked. “Well I was guess I’ll only have to cook for one tonight,” Even in the low light Annie visibly perked up at the mere mention of food. “It’s a shame, I’ve been told that I’m a great cook.”
“Is that your trick? Go out and look for girls and lure them back with you with the promise of food?”
“For the love of…” Eren sighed. “I’m trying to offer you a hot meal and warm bed, not kidnap you. Are you always this distrusting of people?”
Annie balled her fists and bit her lip as she slowly climbed down from her perch. “Only when people I barely know come up to me in the middle of a storm.” She said with a small smile.
Leaning slightly towards her as she got down, Eren hummed deeply. “Follow me.” He said waving his hand as he walked across the rest of the bridge and before she knew it Annie was following him.
“You’re a student?” Annie gawked as Eren walked up to the front door of a large house.
Looking over his shoulder Eren shrugged. “Yeah, I’m a second year at Paradis uni. Is that a problem?”
Annie narrowed her eyes. “I was told only failures and dropouts go there, I was planning on going to Marely myself.”
Eren shrugged. “Whatever works for you, but for now you’re a guest at Paradis,” He smirked. “Now if I’m right the only people who should be in at this time are Armin and maybe Jean.”
“How many of you are there?”
“In this house? Not many. Me, Armin, Jean, Connie and a couple others but they’re probably out tonight,” Eren explained as he opened the door and switched the lights on. “Welcome home!” Annie was greated a wall of warm air and she fought the urge to rush past Eren to envelope herself in the warmth in front of her. “You head upstairs, first door you see is the bathroom, you warm up and I’ll leave a towel and a change of clothes outside.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before.”
Rolling his eyes Eren shut the door behind her. “And yet you followed me. I’m not going to kidnap you and murder you. I’m going to offer somewhere to stay and something to eat. No go get a shower before you freeze to death.”
Without another word Annie walked past Eren and up the stairs, when he heard the bathroom door shut he let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Great job Eren,” He groaned banging his head against the wall. “I’ve been told I’m a great cook! What a load of crap!” The moment he heard Annie turn the shower on Eren rushed into the kitchen and found a blonde haired boy looking in the fridge.
“Eren? What’s going on?”
“Armin… I’ve done something stupid.”
Armin closed the fridge and crossed his eyes. “What?”
“I… kinda brought a girl home,” Eren mumbled. “She’s upstairs taking a shower right now.”
“And you’re telling me this why?”
Fumbling with his thumbs Eren chuckled. “Because I told her I could cook… and that I’d cook something for her.”
“So you lied?” Armin stated bluntly. Eren nodded slowly. “What do you want me to do?”
Eren clasped his hands together. “Please cook something before she comes down here.” He pleaded.
“What makes you think I can cook?”
“You’re a genius. You can do everything… Including cook?”
Armin groaned. “I’m a physics student. I can tell you how to make a black hole and how the universe will likely end but all I can cook is mac’n’cheese.”
Eren fell to his knees with a defeated sigh. “What am I supposed to do?”
Rolling his eyes Armin once again opened the fridge and pulled out a deep bowl. “This is something Jean made, boeuf bourguignon or something. You know him, he loves French food. It’s leftovers.”
“Will he be okay with me taking this?” Eren asked as he slowly reached out to take to bowl.
Armin shrugged with a smirk. “I’ll talk to him about it. Now put that in a pot and make it look like you’re cooking.”
A wide, childish smile spread across Eren’s lips. “Thank you, thank you! You’re the best,” He said as he rummaged through the various cupboards of his kitchen to find what he needed. “Oh can you leave a towel outside of the door for her.” Eren asked as Armin headed towards the door.
A sigh was all he got as response but that was all he needed to hear. Now alone Eren set about heating up the leftovers Armin had got for him, it didn’t take him long to to put a pot on the stove and soon after the hum of the shower stopped and Eren knew it wouldn’t be long before Annie came downstairs.
Minutes later Eren heard the sound of footsteps coming downstairs. “You’re welcome for the towel,” He smirked as Annie walked into the kitchen with her hair wrapped in a towel, when he saw her however his smile disappeared. “Where did you get those clothes?” Eren asked pointing at the shirt that reached down to her knees and the trousers that she had hiked up to her torso.
“Well first off, I already thanked Armin for the towel and the clothes he got from your room. And I just answered your question.” Annie explained leaning against the doorframe.
Eren slowly nodded. “Okay then… well now you’re warmed up on the outside, how about some beef… bog...bour… beef stew, to warm you up from the inside.”
Annie stepped forward and looked past Eren at the stove. “Wow. You really are an amazing cook, it takes hours to make beef bourguignon but you’ve done it in about fifteen minutes. What’s your secret?”
“Leftovers.” Eren said with a defeated sigh.
Annie did her best to hold back the giggle that rose in her throat. “It’s fine. I’d still be out there on the bridge if it weren’t for you but,” She said walking towards Eren. “Just remember I’m homeless, not stupid.” With each step she took forward Eren took one back as a heavy blush flushed his cheeks.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Eren chuckled.
“Oh?” Annie said with crossed arms. “There’s going to be a next time?”
Eren’s blush deepened. “Well… I mean if you want there to be then I’m sure I could find some room in my busy schedule.”
“You have a busy schedule?” Annie asked with narrowed eyes.
Fingers of ice traveled up Eren’s spine as his resolve crumbled. “No.”
Annie bit her lower lip. “Maybe we can change that. I could teach you to make beef bourguignon, not just to warm up the leftovers.”
“You know how to cook?”
“I’ve spent a lot of time in libraries, I read a lot of books. Some of them being cookbooks.” Annie explained as she dried her hair. However once she took the towel from her Eren’s attention shifted Annie’s cooking experience to the purple bruise on the side of her head.
Reaching forward Eren took the side of her head in her hand, Annie winced at his touch and flinched away from him. “Where did you get that? You didn’t have that earlier.”
“I fell.” Annie replied instinctively.
Stepping forward Eren’s light tone had vanished from his voice. “Is it your turn to lie to me now?” This time it was Annie who stepped back as he stepped towards her. “I’ve been in too many fights to not notice the difference between a bruise caused by a fist and one caused by a fall. So I’ll ask again, where did you get that?”
Annie felt herself grow small under the weight of Eren’s tone, she backed up until her back was against the wall. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
“Why?” Annie asked suddenly finding her voice.
Eren seemed to visibly stiffen at her question, for a moment he paused and balled his fists. “So I can make sure that you never have to see them again.”
“It’s that big of a deal.” Annie said as tied her hair back to cover the mark.
Eren’s eyes suddenly widened as he realised something. “Didn’t you say you were going home from the store?”
It didn’t take long for Annie to pick up on his train of thought. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then who did it?” Eren asked impatiently as he took another step towards her, it was only when he saw that she was backed against the wall did he soften his tone. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to get angry like that.”
Now that he had calmed down slightly Annie let out a small sigh of relief. “Why did you get angry?” She asked.
“Because you look like you have too much to deal with without assholes hurting you as well.”
“And that makes it your place to intervene?”
Eren smirked and crossed his arms. “It does when you’re under my roof and my care.”
“How long do you think I’m going to stay?” Annie asked as she walked past him and over to the stove.
Clasping his hands together Eren leaned against the wall. “As long as you want. I’m here to support you however I can.” He shrugged.
“But why?” Annie finally asked.
“What sort of guy would I be if I left a girl alone in a storm?” Eren explained as he stirred the pot.
“Oohh,” Annie cooed. “So you helped because I appear to be a fragile maiden?”
Eren scoffed. “I don’t think a fragile maiden would ever refer to themselves as one, especially not someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” Annie said with narrowed eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Someone with eyes like yours can’t be defined as fragile, you look like you’ve been in a lot of fights.”
Annie looked down at her balled fists. “The eyes gave it away?”
Eren turned around and pointed a wooden spoon at her. “And the way you hold yourself. What’s your style? Muay thai?” For a moment Annie was stunned and a wide smile spread across Eren’s lips. “I do kickboxing so I’ve fought Muay thai fighter before, I know how they stand.”
Moments, after he finished talking a question, rose in Annie’s mind. “How good are you?”
“Well… I like to think I pretty good. Why? Do you want to fight?” Eren asked with a smile.
“Only if you’re a challenge, I don’t want to waste my time.” She shrugged.
Before answering Eren turned off the stove and faced her. “Well if you’re so disinterested how about we make it more… interesting.”
“Interesting how?”
Eren hummed quietly. “Well, if I win you have to let me take you out for dinner. And if you win…”
“I get to sleep in your bed and you have to sleep on the floor until I’m willing to share.”
Eren nearly choked on thin air as he heard Annie’s request. “What?”
“I would have said yes to going out to dinner with you anyway, you don’t have to fight me over that,” Annie giggled. “But if you insist.”
“Wait, wait!” Eren stuttered. “Can I change mine in that case?”
Annie cupped her chin and hummed to herself. “Fine. If I win you have to learn how to talk to girls and take me out for dinner. But if you win…”
“You have to work with me in the store.”
“Sounds good to me.” Annie said with a smirk.
(Two hours later)
Eren found himself staring up at his ceiling, not from his bed however but from his own floor. He reached out from under his thin blanket and gently stroked the bruise on his cheek. Wincing quietly he looked over to his side and saw gentle rising and falling of Annie’s figure as she slept in his bed.
Their match didn’t last very long with Annie’s quick and sharp strikes easily passing between Eren’s guard, and while he fought well she was far too quick allowing her to dodge and weave out of the way of Eren’s fists and kicks. By the end of the fight Eren was lying on his back, his chest heaving as pain racked through his body.
After getting up from the ground and brushing the dirt from his clothes Eren lead Annie upstairs and reluctantly offered her his bed. With a small, thin smile she thanked him before taking the tracksuit Eren offered her and going to get changed in the in bathroom. By the time she got back he had made the bed and had laid a sleeping bag on the floor beside his bed.
“I hope you don’t mind,” He said gesturing to his makeshift bed. “Jean’s locked his door and Armin hates it when people disturb him when he’s studying… which is all night.”
“It’s okay,” Annie smirked as she walked past him and climbed under the covers. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” Eren said before lying down and closing his eyes.
While Annie was grateful than she could describe for everything Eren had given her, especially the warm bed she was now lying in she couldn’t sleep. She twisted and turned under the soft covers Eren had provided her with but no matter angle she lay at Annie couldn’t sleep. Unfortunately with Eren sleeping only a couple of feet away she couldn’t get up and do something to tire herself out, instead Annie was stuck unable to sleep and unable to get up.
Only after what felt like hours did Annie roll over onto her side and look down at Eren’s figure in the dark. “Hey Eren. Are you awake?” She whispered.
In the brief silence that followed Annie considered rolling back over, convinced that Eren was fast asleep.
“No. I was gonna ask you the same,” Eren groaned as he slowly sat up. “Are you okay?”
Annie propped herself up on her elbow and hummed lightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just don’t know how to thank you for all this,” She explained. “You’ve done so much for me in just one day.”
From the dark in front of her Annie heard a quiet laugh. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“To be fair I did steal your bed.”
“Not steal,” Eren pointed out. “You won it from me, although I look forward to getting it back.”
Annie’s eyes widened. “Oh. You’re not getting this bed back until you manage to beat me.”
Eren sat up as if a bolt of electricity had been passed up his body. “What are you talking about? That’s my bed! I gave it to you for this night. Tomorrow you can sleep on the floor like I am now!”
“Of course I will,” Annie said. “Once you beat me in a match.”
“B-but that’s not going to happen. Ever,” Eren protested. “That means I’m going to be sleeping on the floor of my room forever.”
Annie hummed and shook her head. “Not true, you don’t have to sleep on the floor.”
“But… you’re in my bed.”
“Yes I am.”
It took Eren longer that she expected to figure out what she meant and it was only when he vocalised his realisation did Annie let out a stifled giggle. “A-are you sure?” Eren asked.
“I’m offering aren’t I?” Annie asked as rolled over to make room. With the offer of his warm bed Eren quickly got up from the floor. He hesitated slightly when he saw the silhouette of Annie’s figure in the dark but he quickly overcame it and joined her under the covers.
After putting an acceptable amount of distance between his torso and Annie’s back Eren nervously looked over her shoulder “How’s this?”
Annie hummed to herself as she wriggled under the covers and before Eren could react she had pressed her back against his torso, now comfortable she let out a small sigh before closing her eyes. “Much better.” She whispered.
“A-Annie are you okay with this?”
“If I wasn’t then why would have I done it?” Annie scoffed as she pulled Eren’s arm over her. “I better warn you, I’m not a good morning person.” She said before quickly falling asleep in his embrace and for the first time in far too long Annie Leonhardt fell asleep feeling warm and safe.
#Eren Jaeger#Annie Leonhardt#ereani#EreAnnie#eren x annie#erenannie#armin arlert#bertholdt hoover#Erenani week
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2019 Feb – Setting Up our New Home: Week 6 (Mon 11 Mar to Sun 17 Mar)
Mon 11 Mar
Wayne came back to do some further work on the under stairs cupboard. He was happy with the revisions to the kitchen plasterboard and will be able to plaster it either today or tomorrow.
Jamie arrived with his mate to do final plastering over of holes in four rooms, and preparing them for painting later today.
Clint and Paul, the kitchen fitters arrived to reverse the washing machine door, to add a filler, and to fix the oven housing side that is sticking out. I also talked to Clint about my proposal for fitting a housing unit around the CU. He didn’t want to do it, but he thought he might know where a spare boiler housing unit might be stored (in plot 133). Unfortunately, he couldn’t find them – he’s leaving some bits for me though, so hopefully I’ll be able to make some progress with the CU housing.
Paul also removed a bit of the oven housing that was jutting out and splitting the long run of kick board in two. Replaced the kick board so looks unbroken now.
The new outdoor light and sensor for the HOG arrived, together with a new fancy hose gun. I’m sure we packed our old hose gun, but we have been having to cope with the standard hose jet thing that comes with the autoreel.
Fitted the HOG lampshades (from Ikea) – bit of a nightmare and then had to order two E27 Hue bulbs off Amazon – should arrive tomorrow.
Fitted a second CCTV camera which has visibility of the back garden and the HOG door. A couple of the screws were really difficult to screw in, and I had to revert to shorter screws. It was a trouble because I had to use the screwdriver with my left hand. I tried moving the ladder to the other side of the corner, but it was too dangerous. So I have ordered a corner stabiliser, which should help a lot.
Finally got the camera set up, and went inside to hook it up to the DVR. Since I didn’t know which if the three remaining cameras were hooked up, I had to connect all of them to the power and one by one I connected the video feed. The CCTV system clearly doesn’t like that arrangement. As soon as I did that, the existing camera went off line. After some testing/trialling, I deduced that the system doesn’t like power being applied to cameras which are not connected – weird.
Tue 12 Mar
Another windy day today, which meant I heard the eerie squeal that Andrew referred to when he stayed at the weekend. I went outside when I got up at 4am when it was still windy to find out where it was coming from. It’s the gate latch which is scrapping over itself (metal on metal), as the wind blows it – there’s a bit of give in the gate, and it’s this short distance of movement that is creating the squeal. I need to reduce that give, so that the gate is as tight as it can be.
Kevin, the painter and decorator, arrived to work on the architraves. A lot of the screw holes are proud of the door frames, so they need sanding down.
Some foreign guys arrived to lay the tiles in the under stairs cupboard. They also conveniently left me a few spare tiles just in case we need them.
Wayne arrived not long before lunch. I was out but Kev let him in. He did the first coat on the kitchen wall, and it’s already starting to look like a proper wall! 😊
I sorted out the CCTV cables in the evening. I had to disconnect the cables from the two cameras already installed, pull the cables back into the loft, and then drop them back down into the under stairs cupboard, so that the extensions were in the loft, rather than half way up the wall behind the plasterboard, at risk of being pulled apart. If only the wind would die down enough to allow me to fix the other cameras in position! Got a ladder corner stabiliser arriving on Wed.
The Dyson stand arrived, and I built that. Looks great, but takes up a fair amount of space. Worthwhile though in my opinion. Will see what Vick thinks when she gets back tomorrow!
Spent a bit of time talking to Kev and Wayne. Kev is married to a young lady 22 years his junior (lucky blighter), and he gets every Sat off so that he can go watch the football.
Wed 13 Mar
Storm Gareth on the way into Britain, suggesting more high winds over the next few days.
The M&S wardrobe that was broken on the initial delivery, arrived today. Had a load of issues with M&S customer support.
No workmen today. I finished off the cabling for CCTV in the loft, but it was too windy to actually fit anything outside today.
Thu 14 Mar
Wet and windy today (again).
Alex arrived (he’s a chippie) to do the skirting boards under the stairs. He was happy to do the skirting on the new kitchen wall.
Wayne finished off the kitchen wall and sanded it down. Pretty dusty but looking really good now, especially with the new skirting board.
Used my new ladder corner brace to fit CCTV camera number 3 covering the front of the house. Too windy and cold to do any more. Hopefully finish off the CCTV at the weekend.
Fri 15 Mar
Didn’t really do much today. Vick moved stuff into the dining room sideboard, and emptied loads of boxes.
My half pallet of LoftZone kit arrived.
Sat 16 Mar
Tidied up the garage, and moved the shelving unit back against the wall. Prepared for yet another visit to the tip! Still windy, but was hoping to get the CCTV finished off today. Managed to finish the camera at the front of the house, but the ladder wasn’t steady enough after about 11am due to the wind.
Installed a shelf in the utility room in the space normally used for a dryer. That will help us make better use of the space.
Started work on the coat cupboard – provided power from the dining room power socket – had to create two large holes in the dining room to support routing the cable through – managed to patch those up by the end of the day. Couldn’t complete because I needed some earthing sleeve, and I found that the back box I used in the cupboard had one screw fixing missing – will need to get a new one tomorrow.
Sun 17 Mar
Really productive day today. The wind was fairly calm early this morning, but biting cold. So, finished off the garage CCTV camera and the HOG/rear CCTV camera. Fingers were so cold it was difficult to hold the screw driver!
After a quick visit to B&Q, replaced the back box in the cupboard and installed the earthing sleeve. Tested the power supply in the cupboard and all was well.
Installed the shelving in the cupboard – two shelves – one on each side – I didn’t have any material quite wide enough to fit across without a break.
Fitted a 2m Hue light strip in the cupboard, and a Hue motion detector. The light now goes on as you open the cupboard door. It looks really funky.
Fitted the socket in the family room high window to feed power to the blind when it is fitted next week. That was fed from the Bed 2 power socket. Patched up the hole and sent a picture to our curtain fitter. He responded asking for it to be moved closer to the window! Some people are never happy!
Fitted the TV CAT6a cable to Bed 1.
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