You've Got Sucker's Luck
AN: I thought we were all long-overdue for some 100% fluff, tropes and all. Also, huge-ass TL;DR from me at the end.
Chapter 20
"How can you stand this filth?" he asked in bewilderment.
"How can you not?" she gleefully replied.
Loki had long lost count of the number of times he and Brynn had held this exchange, which ceased to be rhetorical within the first five minutes of Jersey Shore. Hours of binge-watching later, he was shocked his brain had not started oozing out of his ears.
The night before, after he finished modifying his daggers – opting to transform them into feathers rather than coconuts – he and Brynn had left the viewing lounge together and returned to her chambers. She fell asleep almost immediately, and he occupied himself with a few menial tasks before joining her in bed.
He had quickly drifted off but was woken up not long after by Brynn, who confessed that she been dreaming of Sammy and was afraid to go back to sleep. Loki drowsily brought her into his arms and began telling her stories of the scrapes he and Thor had gotten into as boys to distract her.
His tale of trying to burn Thor at the stake set them both to laughing so hard that they both were soon wide awake, and sleep was forgotten. Bored, Brynn had seized Stark's tablet from the nightstand and informed Loki that it was time to commence his crash course in pop culture.
Thus far, he was most ungrateful for her tutelage.
Episode upon episode of overdressed, catty hausfraus; imbeciles who agreed to not only spend a month exposed to the elements, but do so in the nude; would-be singers whose vocals ranged from tolerable to torturous; men and women alike competing for flora as a means to an end in the pursuit of matrimony –
(Having been the victim of several attempts at arranged marriages in his youth, Loki was secretly following the machinations of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette with great interest, but feigned indifference when Brynn asked if he wanted to watch Deal or No Deal instead.)
It was awful. Every last 1080p, commercial-free bit of it. Tabloids, he enjoyed, but this was torment and he saw no end to the onslaught of digital tripe, as the tablet contained a terabyte's-worth of pre-loaded media. (He had stealthily destroyed the device's internet receiver, and Brynn was too excited about catching up on three years' worth of missed reality TV to care.)
Adding insult to injury, Brynn was not the least bit interested when Loki conjured a floor-to-ceiling a projection of the Bifrost and suggested taking her on a tour.
"Woman, I am trying to show you the Realm Eternal," he complained when she shoved his arm out of the way from where he had been trying to point out Heimdall's observatory.
They were sitting side-by-side in bed, sharing a bag of microwaved popcorn, the tablet resting across their both their laps.
"And I'm trying to show you Project Runway," Brynn snapped, "And if the Realm Eternal is really eternal, it'll still be around for you to show me later. Now be quiet."
"At least pick something else," Loki groused. "These abominations in fashion are nothing short of criminal."
"Says the man who combines leather and velvet on the regular."
This drew a laugh from him. "You are hardly one to talk," he teased as he helped himself to the last of the popcorn.
Brynn glanced up from where she had been scrolling through an alphabetized list of films categorized as Fantasy. One of the titles caught Loki's attention and he casually reached over with his free hand, tapping the screen to bring up the movie synopsis.
"What do you mean?" she asked, picking her soda up from the nightstand.
Loki shrugged. "I've yet to see you in anything but multi-pocketed trousers, running gear, or your nightclothes."
The film's poster appeared on the screen.
"Whatever, Clinton." Brynn took a swallow of soda and then wrinkled her nose, briefly looking down at the bottle before returning her gaze to Loki. "Why do you look so mad?"
He was scowling at an image of an exquisite woman with crimson lips and ink-black horns protruding from her head.
"No reason," he muttered. He brought the tablet onto his lap and opened the search box.
"Hey, did you do something to my Diet Coke?" he heard Brynn ask as he started scanning the tablet's library for anything containing the names Ludo, Hellboy, or Severus. "It tastes different."
"I removed the caffeine."
"Wh – why?!" She glared at him, outraged. "And how? You know they make an official caffeine-free version, right?"
"You mentioned needing to avoid stimulants until your breakthrough seizures cease; magic; I do; and based upon my reading, the manufacturer's method of extraction does not, in fact, remove one hundred percent of the caffeine."
Out of the corner of his eye, Loki spotted Brynn trying to edge away from him and off the bed.
"Your Pike Place has been replaced with decaf," he said, knowing precisely in what direction she was headed.
Her head whipped around, eyes narrowed to slits. "Real decaf? Or your ensorcelled version of it?"
"Mine." He was scowling again, having found the movie poster for Hellboy. "I took the liberty of brewing myself a cup before coming to bed; I think you shall find it to be perfectly satisfactory."
"Loki, your version of 'perfectly satisfactory' coffee qualifies as sludge for normal people."
"Then I think you shall find it to be perfectly satisfactory sludge."
Brynn slammed her bottle of not-Diet Coke down on the nightstand, livid. "Did you mess with my chocolate stash, too?" she demanded. "'Cause that's grounds for divorce."
"Even I know there are some boundaries that are not to be crossed, mistenkelig liten dronning," he retorted.
His stomach dropped a moment later when his brain registered the words he had just spoken – suspicious little queen.
Loki hastily passed the tablet back to Brynn, blank-faced. He had been taking care to keep such fantasies buried deep within his heart, but these foolish dreams persisted in getting ahead of him, far too quickly…and far beyond reason.
Beside him, Brynn was still grumbling, savagely prodding the tablet as she returned to the home screen and started scrolling through a list of films.
"We are not watching Sharknado," Loki said flatly, reading over her shoulder.
"You don't even know what it's about!"
"And I prefer to remain ignorant."
Brynn rolled her eyes. "Fine, you pick."
She tossed the tablet onto his lap and then hopped out of bed to go investigate what remained of her coffee and chocolate.
Loki began mindlessly scrolling through action films, only-half reading the titles as they flew across the screen.
Lucy…X-Men: Days of Future Past…John Wick…
"What variety are you making?" he asked when he heard Brynn start to unwrap another package of popcorn.
"Sorcerer's choice," she answered. "What sounds good?"
He did not look up. "Do you have any more of the kind with ocean seasoning?"
"Um…do you mean sea salt?"
"Yes, sea salt."
Loki chose to ignore Brynn's snickering as she started heating the bag of popcorn.
The air was quickly filled with the delectable scent of buttered sea salt, and his stomach growled in response. He had to give humanity credit where it was due – no one on Asgard would have thought to make a delicacy out of freshly-exploded whole grains.
Need for Speed…Taken 3…Maze Runner…
The microwave beeped.
Edge of Tomorrow…Divergent…Non-Stop…The Equalizer…Transformers: Age of Extinction…Big Hero 6…
"Stop!" Brynn shrieked.
Loki was at her side in a flash, flying from the bed with preternatural speed and over to where she stood by the microwave, still holding the steaming-hot bag of popcorn.
"Are you in pain?" he cried, running both hands down her arms and looking her over for signs of burns.
"No!" Brynn squirmed halfway out of his grip and strained an arm around him, desperately pointing to the tablet where it had landed on the floor. "They made another Transformers movie! See if it's got Shia LeBeouf in it, he's amazing, I want to watch that one next!"
One hand still on her shoulder, Loki stoically looked over to the tablet, which had landed-face up.
A film poster depicting a roaring, robotic dinosaur was displayed on the screen.
He dragged his eyes back over to Brynn, who was starting to climb over him in her excitement to finally watch the fourth installment of Transformers.
The tablet vanished.
"Wait, what –"
Loki neatly plucked the popcorn bag out of Brynn's hands, bent at the knee, and with his opposite arm reached around her hips and heaved her over one shoulder.
"Hey!" she bellowed.
He ignored her and proceeded to march back to the bed, taking the time to set the popcorn aside before swinging Brynn down and catching her in both arms in one easy motion.
"To quote your illustrious Howard Mandel," he purred as he began lowering her onto the mattress, "let's make a deal."
"'Kay," she gasped, startled.
Wearing his wickedest smile, Loki moved to sit on the edge of the bed and leaned over her, planting his palms on either side of her head.
Brynn looked up at him nervously.
"I will permit you to continue subjecting me to this digital trash," he informed her, leaning forward, "but only in exchange for…"
He allowed his voice to trail off and cocked his head, making a show of studying her thoughtfully.
"Earth to Howie," Brynn said impatiently when he did not continue, "Are you going for some kind of a dramatic pause here, or are you still thinking?"
He leaned down further and bent his head to her ear, deliberately allowing his mouth to graze her cheek as he whispered, "In exchange for…a kiss."
Her heartbeat began beating so erratically that Loki heard when its rhythm changed.
Pleased, he drew back and gazed down upon Brynn, eyes boring hungrily into hers.
"Deal or no deal, min kjærlighet?"
Her lips parted as she struggled to come up with a response. She was trying valiantly to remain aloof, but when Loki saw the flush of her cheeks, he knew he had her spellbound – or so he thought.
The set of her chin grew stubborn.
"Deal," she said. She still looked dazed but nevertheless managed to throw in an impudent, "Does this please the banker?"
"Oh, lille smådjevel," he chuckled, bending down towards her once more, "it pleases him very much."
Loki was too busy marveling over this unexpected good fortune to spot the conniving gleam that had come into Brynn's eyes as he continued to draw closer. The only thought occupying his mind were her lips, and how they would look, rosy and slightly puffy, after he finished kissing her thoroughly, and possibly ravishing the rest of her as well, if she seemed so inclined.
Their faces were separated by only millimeters when her hand suddenly clapped over his mouth.
"Sharknado first," he heard her say.
Loki uttered a muffled curse into her palm, and Brynn quickly added, "And you have to tell me whatever that means."
He tossed his head free of her hand with a huff.
"If I thought for one moment that you would permit me to court you properly, I would provide you a complete lexicon of Aesir profanities," he spat.
He flopped down onto the bed beside her and draped his arm over his eyes, irritated that she had managed to best him at his own game.
"Court me?" he heard Brynn say. "What is this, the Middle Ages?"
"No," Loki smirked into his elbow, "the women in that era were far more obedient."
"Poor you."
"Indeed."
The blood in his veins had only just started to cool when Brynn pounced on top of him and playfully straddled his hips – and proceeded to burst into giggles as Loki tried to shift away, in hopes of concealing the faint stiffening that had not yet abated in his pants.
"Problems?" she queried innocently, immediately cluing into the issue. This did not take keen perceptive skills on her part, as their positioning was further aggravating Loki's state at a rather exponential rate.
"Possibly," he protested, "lest you injure the results of your disobedience – " His words ended in a strangled grunt; she had reached down and groped him.
"Oh," Brynn started stroking him through the fabric of his trousers, "you mean these results?"
"Wh-what are you doing?" Loki sputtered.
"Teaching you a lesson."
"And wh – gods – why am I in need of –"
She deftly slid her hand beneath the waistband of his pants and continued on with her merciless ministrations.
Loki stared up at her helplessly. Brynn had removed her bra prior to going to bed, the room was chilly, the thin cotton of her top left little to the imagination, he could already feel a coiling sensation beginning to build in his groin, and if she kept this up much longer, he would spill in her hand like a pubescent boy…
She was experimenting now, changing pressure and speed based on his reactions; Loki cursed a second time, clenching the sheets as his eyes reflexively squeezed shut.
"What's 'filthy little minx' in Old Norse?"
"I – don't – know," he gritted.
Brynn gave him more one long, glorious stroke and then leaned down close, holding her hand in place between his thighs.
Loki's eyes flew open.
"Fix my soda and my coffee," she told him.
"No," he gasped, "that was not part of the deal –"
She gripped him, hard.
"I yield," he groaned.
Brynn kissed the tip of his nose and released him.
"You might want to take care of that before we start Transformers," she dryly remarked, nodding her head in the direction of Loki's crotch as she climbed off of him. Smirking, she picked up the bag of popcorn and moved to sit beside him.
He glowered at her, panting, flushed and fuming. Brynn matched him scowl-for-scowl until she finally threw a handful of popcorn in his face.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," she exclaimed as Loki grouchily brushed crumbles out of his eyes, "there's not much that can kill the mood faster than your partner having an absence seizure just as things start getting frisky between the sheets." The humor in her eyes dulled, but her voice remained firm as she finished, "I haven't had sex in three years. I'd rather stay conscious and enjoy the experience from start to finish."
"As would I," Loki concurred tightly, "but this," he threw a furious glance in the direction of his nether regions, "belies your prior claims about not being a tease."
"Oh, that wasn't teasing, babe," Brynn laughed. "That was a preview of coming attractions."
Her declaration – along with the nickname, and the implications that came with both – only worsened his arousal.
"Are you certain you were not a succubus in a previous life?" he accused. She was sitting by his hip, facing him, and he propped himself up on his elbows in order to glare at her more effectively.
Brynn flicked a piece of popcorn at his still-tented trousers.
"I don't even know what a succubus is," she said sweetly. "Is it a space snorkel?"
Loki started to make a retort, but she looked so shamelessly pleased with herself that he found himself having to put genuine effort into staying annoyed. He had never seen her so carefree and uninhibited, and he was eager to coax out more of this side of her.
"What in the Nine Realms has gotten into you, Brynn Nolan?" he wondered aloud as he sank back against the pillow.
She grinned at him. "Xanax."
He knew this name...
Frowning, he studied her more closely.
Brynn no longer seemed in danger of being seduced, he observed, but her pupils remained dilated and she looked…loopy.
Loki felt a surge of disappointment but managed to conceal it.
"This drug," he said slowly, "it serves to alleviate anxiety but has the effect of making one act out of character, correct?"
"It lowers inhibitions," Brynn admitted, "but it doesn't make you…"
She stopped speaking.
Eager to hear more, Loki went to prompt her but stopped when he realized she was experiencing another breakthrough seizure. She had reassured him these symptoms were not uncommon, but this knowledge made them no less disconcerting.
Or, as she had so aptly put it, mood-killing.
"…feel things that aren't already there, if that's what you're asking," Brynn finished a few seconds later.
She was looking at him sheepishly, unaware that she had drifted off mid-sentence.
An unbidden smile began to tug at Loki's mouth as her words slowly sank in.
"Why did you take it?" he wanted to know.
"I'm maxed out," she said simply. "It's been a bad week. It's been a lot of bad weeks, and you're the only good thing in them." Brynn sighed and picked up his hand. "Like I said the other day," she started to trace random designs in his palm with her fingertips, "only one of us gets to be the headcase. It's your turn right now. I'm always raw after a counseling session, and what you shared last night was…"
Loki looked to the ceiling, expressionless. He never wanted to speak of his behavior from the previous night. He had been raised better than to succumb to such - such utter weakness. He was a prince, a king. No son of Odin – or Laufey – should be so soft as to sob themselves sick, let alone do so in the presence of another.
"It was traumatic," Brynn continued quietly. "And I knew the only way I could help you fight your demons was if I did something to shut mine up for a little while."
The black-paneled ceiling grew blurry.
Had there been any doubts in Loki's mind before that his heart would be forever lost to Brynn, they were gone now, stripped away, along with the armor he had built up so carefully around his heart over the centuries. Lovers and friends, he had experienced. But in all his years, never had he had a partner. Someone who, of their own volition, and seeking no personal gain or favor, put him first.
Her words had laid him bare.
"Thank you, my lady," he whispered, not speaking until he was certain his voice would remain steady.
Brynn tended to complain whenever he lapsed into using courtly language, but she only squeezed his hand and refrained from teasing.
"So," she said, taking a deep breath, "now that I've officially turned this into the bigger downer party in the history of mankind," her tone grew brisk, "answer me this: Were you actually here during the Middle Ages?"
Loki dropped his gaze away from the ceiling and turned his head to look at Brynn. She was trying to cheer him up, and he managed to return her hopeful smile.
"The last time we spoke of my age, it reduced you to tears," he reminded her. He grasped her wrist, sliding one hand up her arm as he drew her down to him. "I do not care to repeat the experience."
"No, no," Brynn insisted, "I'm fine. You're older than dirt, blah blah." She folded her arms against his chest and laid her head down, peering at him sideways. "But, really, were you here during the Middle Ages?"
"A fair bit, yes," Loki admitted. He lifted a hand and began to toy with a strand of her hair.
"Get the tablet," Brynn suggested suddenly. She sat back up. "There's a documentary about the Middle Ages I think you'd like. It's really famous."
This piqued his interest, and the tablet flashed back into existence on the bed. Brynn picked it up and began searching for the title, absently humming to herself.
"I did not know you had such an interest in history," he said, watching her.
"I usually don't," she shrugged as she cued up the movie, "but this one brings the story to life. If you like it, there's another about Ancient Rome that was produced by the same group of historians."
Dramatic orchestral music started to play.
"Bend your knee up," she requested, "this thing doesn't have a kick stand."
Loki did so, and Brynn set the tablet on his stomach, resting it propped-up against his thigh.
"You don't care to watch?" he asked her as she started to lie back down beside him.
She shook her head, fighting a yawn. "I've seen it a ton of times. I'll just listen."
They made themselves comfortable as the film's opening credits started, Loki folding one arm behind his head against the pillow, the other around Brynn, who draped herself half-over him, one leg curled up around his.
"The individual tasked with translating this text had an appalling grasp of linguistics," he remarked, reading the subtitles.
"Really? What's wrong with the translation?"
"Other than it not being actual Swedish?"
He felt her shrug. "You'd know better than me; I only know English and conversational Spanish."
Several more subtitles flashed by.
Frowning, Loki gave Brynn a nudge. "Liten vannfe."
"Mm?"
"Who is Richard M. Nixon?"
"Former US president."
"Why was he compelled to sign off on a disclaimer for this documentary?"
"Um, I think it's a requirement of the office?"
Loki mulled this over. Brynn's answer seemed perfectly sensible. This was, after all, a historical re-enactment, he reasoned, and given that the creators had no means of physically going back in time, it was not surprising that there would be inaccuracies abound. An attestation of these inaccuracies, coming from a prominent figurehead, would be appropriate so as to not mislead the audience.
Satisfied, he returned his attention to the tablet.
"I do not recall moose playing such a prominent role in Europe during this time," Loki muttered a little while later.
"Maybe you were in a different part of Europe?"
"True," he admitted; his travels had been primarily limited to Scandinavia.
Loki's expression grew progressively more baffled, however, as the documentary progressed through the first scene. It was mid-way through the film's second scene – a bizarre depiction of a village suffering from an outbreak of plague, and the means in which they disposed of the corpses – when he could not longer continue suspending his disbelief.
"Bring out your dead…(clang)…Bring out your dead…(clang)…ROWR…"
He turned off the tablet and looked down at Brynn accusingly. She was pretending to be asleep and doing an extremely poor job of it.
"I know you are awake," he told her.
Brynn feigned a yawn and moved to prop herself up on her elbow in order to look at him. "What?"
"To use your phrasing," Loki held up the tablet in one hand, "'fess up."
"'Fess up what?" she asked him brightly. "It wasn't like that in the Middle Ages?"
"It was decidedly not like that in the Middle Ages," he retorted. "Either Richard M. Nixon was an imbecile, or you think me to be one."
Her eyes grew wide and innocent. "Uh-oh. Have I displeased the banker?"
The indulgent smile Loki had been wearing curved into something just short of a leer. Brynn possessed enough sense to realize he had her in his sights, but it was too late. He was about to seize the upper hand and they both knew it.
"You have displayed the banker very, very much, min ugudelige lille fe," he informed her, voice dropping into a velvety rumble.
He was on top of her a second later, pinning her beneath him in a single blinding roll, and brought his face so close to hers that they were almost nose-to-nose.
"Did – did you just sneeze," she stammered, "or was that another nickname?"
Loki could feel her heart beating wildly against his chest and bent his head lower, lips gliding down her cheek as he went.
"My wicked little fairy," he breathed in her ear, "My wicked, lovely little fairy."
"Oh, God," he heard Brynn gasp.
Involuntarily or not, her knees parted to allow him to settle between her legs, and Loki knew whatever quota of self-restraint she had drawn upon earlier was gone.
"Problems?"
"Nope," her firm denial escalated into a squeak as Loki began to leave a trail of soft kisses down the side of her neck, "all good…here…"
"Excellent," he started in on the other side of Brynn's neck, giving a leisurely roll of his hips as he went – and grinned to himself when he heard her respond with a not-quite-inaudible moan
"Do you recall," he said conversationally, "showing me your preview of coming attractions?"
He hooked the neckline of her shirt down with a finger and nuzzled the underside of her jaw before starting to kiss his way down to her collarbone.
"No," she panted, "I don't remember anything."
"Oh, come now, dear, it was only a few minutes ago."
The tank top Brynn had been wearing under her shirt vanished and was replaced by Loki's other hand.
"Yes, goddammit, I remember!"
"There's no need to get so excited, liten vannfe," he chided, speaking into her skin, "I simply wish to return the favor."
Brynn's breathing grew unsteady as Loki cupped her breast and pressed a careful kiss to the soft curve of flesh just peeking out from the top of her shirt.
"What are you talking about?" Her voice was a shaky rasp. "What favor?"
He eased forward, taking his time, pushing off on one arm as he went in order to lift himself back over her. She watched his every move as he drew nearer, mesmerized by this irresistible version of cat-and-mouse.
Loki's trickster's smile returned. She was the most beautiful prey he had ever held in his sights.
He dipped his head and gently brushed his mouth against Brynn's with a feather-light touch - not a kiss, but a gesture no less intimate. Then, eyes not leaving hers, he murmured into her lips, "Consider this my preview," before sharply grinding his hips into her.
Her soft cry of surprise was the sweetest music ever to reach his ears. She curled into him, pressing her face into his neck and breathing hard.
"I yield," Loki heard her mumble.
"I didn't quite hear you, darling. What was that?"
"I yield!" Brynn repeated, this time fairly yelling into his ear - and then dissolved into peals of breathless laughter when Loki dumped the rest of the popcorn on top of her head and wrestled her down into the sheets.
AN Pt 2:
Hi.
I'm doing word-for-word translations of anything in Norwegian. There is no grammar.
The "biggest downer party in the history of mankind" line was lifted from between-song-commentary by the incomparable Mary Prankster during one of her live recordings.
So, so, so many thank-yous to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed. Heart emoji goes here.
Wall of text:
I've come up with a way to turn You've Got Sucker's Luck into original fiction. Unfortunately adapting fanfiction into original works is held in extremely low esteem in the publishing world – the thought is that if the new work was inspired by fandom or adapted from fanfiction, then it is not truly an original work. (Fifty Shades of Grey being a classic example.) I buy some of that argument, but from what I can tell, all of the held-in-disdain pull-to-publish examples I found don't appear to have any OC protagonists, the fics already had a fanbase in the thousands, not to mention massive reader engagement where followers were posting back-and-forth suggestions or making requests for future scenes they wanted the author to write – none of which apply here.
I seriously wrestled with whether to put the fic on permanent hiatus. Brynn was an established character in my head prior to starting Sucker's Luck, and I'm worried that every word I write will only further blur the lines between my own ideas and the Avengers/Thor fandom. But Marvel doesn't own character archetypes, inspiration does not happen in a vacuum, and hell, if Norse mythology had been in the public domain back in the 60s, technically Stan Lee's work with Thor could be considered some variety of fanfiction.
So – I am going to finish this story. But in the interest of being fully transparent, if (and that's a big, BIG if) I end up writing an original story, there will be parallels. The premise is the same (deity/alien comes to earth, falls for a widow, finds out he was involved in the death of her husband, shit ensues), and while I am already focused on different world building and new characters, I would be a lying liar who lies if I claimed New Story would not be heavily influenced by this one.
Will new male protagonist use liten vannfe as a pet name for new female protagonist? Probably. Why? Because I think it's fucking adorable. Am I going to rewrite Nick Fury as a woman or otherwise adapt existing Marvel characters? No. Why? Because Nick Fury is Marvel's, and I know enough batty people in my own life to draw upon in creating new OCs. Case in point: My mother-in-law. She is a combination of Judge Judy and Southern-style Lucille Bluth from Arrested Development, and could eat Thanos and Nick Fury for breakfast with a side of country gravy.
Example:
Nick: Thanos! Please put down the gauntlet!
MIL: (aside to Nick) Honey, that boy's all eat up with dumbass. There ain't no point in trying to talk sense to him; he don't know where he shit last. (Raising voice) Thanita! You get yourself over here and take that tin can glove off right now. Don't make me do it for you!
Nick: (horrified) Ma'am, wait, you don't understand, the destructive power of the infinity stones –
MIL: (laughs) God love your heart, you mean those tacky little chips of glass he's got on? Blue-light special at Kmart. Ruth's got a whole set of 'em back home, likes to show them off every time there's a funeral. Prances around like she's the queen of Sheba – hang on, that overgrown little purple shit's ignoring me. Hold my drink, would you? And don't you drink it, now, that's got more than just water in it.
Nick: (realizes he has just been handed a Tervis tumbler filled with Beefeater's, ice, and seltzer, and that it is 5 o'clock somewhere in the Sanctuary)
MIL: Thanita! Don't think I won't make you cut your own switch! I don't care if there ain't a tree around for miles, this nice man here is wearing a belt and I will use it!
Nick: …
MIL: Say, honey, have you had that eye looked at?
Nick: I appreciate the concern, ma'am, but I don't see how that's really relevant –
MIL: (pats his arm) Well, I'm gonna pray on it.
Anyway...I welcome anyone's input on the issue, because I am still torn on what to do. Everyone I've spoken to seems to be of the belief I am massively overthinking things, but I have no objective parties to consult. I'd love to know what other people think or if there is some kind of general consensus on the matter, so if you've got insights or opinions, please reach out. My tumblr is wrathkitty dot tumblr dot com if you want to message me there, or just PM me.