nextgen_asgard:

Douglas Hrimharisson was visiting his cousins in the city. Skari had sailed him over several days previous.  In that time, they'd somehow managed to exhaust several of their recreational and conversational standards.

And now Douglas stretched in a manner that looked a little odd on his fully-humanoid shape and asked, "So, fair Hjordis, what dost thou want to do?"

mishaloganovich:

Getting inched back a little ways from a throne was a reason to celebrate. Though he would do his duty if it came to that, Mikhail's engagement was a little relief from the possibility sneaking up on him.

Misha celebrated by not going to Disneyland. Instead, he spent a few therapeutic hours at a favorite bar playing pool and chatting up the barmaid over plenty of beers. The party continued outside in the back when a couple of guys thought he might be drunk enough to roll and learned that alcohol didn't stop his muscle memory from kicking in or kicking back. The party ended an hour before dawn when he left the barmaid's place and returned to the Institute.

After a hot shower, he pulled on a pair of old shorts, shoved a dvd into the player and kicked back on his bed as the opening credits to a B horror movie began.

Still not sleeping. Still not using vodka as a sleeping aid. Still working the professor's program to make sure he wasn't a danger to his family.

Sleep would be good, though. The nights were pretty lonely and he didn't have enough to keep him occupied. His side of the family needed sleep and embraced the concept wholeheartedly. The sleep gene might be linked to the cooking gene. Maybe he should get a pet to keep him company.

Only a couple of hours until his next session with the professor. Then a workout to see if he could tire himself out enough to get a couple of hours sack time. He'd see who was around the training rooms to spar with and get a good, old-fashioned workout.

sammyfury:

Sammy considered her options.

While Big Brother needed a beating and using her fists would be satisfying, she wasn't going to get into Mikel's cell. She was going to have a hard enough time getting in to see him.

That left her best friend, her firearm. She could play Fish in a Barrel. It wasn't right, but screw right, even if Mom gave her a lecture about it. She wouldn't ask Mom's opinion. Mom would be diplomatic about it, until the moment she stopped and did something final to solve the problem and get it out of their lives.

She wasn't asking Dad's opinion. She felt anger, even a little betrayed. It bubbled up through under the hero worship and had her avoiding him and his calls. She hadn't hidden anything from him. She told him that Mikel wanted into her life. All he had to do was say Mikel couldn't be trusted and to stay away from him. Instead, he'd encouraged her to see the bastard and caused her to hope they'd be a family. Maybe it would've turned out the same, but she wouldn't hate herself so much now for being a willing fool if she'd put up a fight in the beginning.

In the end, all she had was rage and hurt and words that wouldn't make a dent the bastard's feelings. So she'd settle for looking at him and wondering what it was that made a brother she'd never known hate her so much that he'd use his own sister to bring their father down.

On the firing range at the hydrobase, she practiced her own sort of therapy. There were six empty clips in front of her, and another six full ones waiting to be used. The target was tatters. She hadn't switched it out, mostly because she'd put a picture of Mikel on it and it wasn't yet completely destroyed.