How about Nervous? How you doin', son?
When Loki left for work, things only got worse for Nervous.
Watching Loki grope and fondle the pregnant young man, Circe figured that it would actually be a rather fine idea to have her own toy around for those times Loki was busy.
No indignity was spared.
There was the goose, of course,
which startled Nervous horribly everytime it happened.
And those terrible, invasive kisses. Nervous's eyes went distant as his lips automatically parted for her. It was happening to his body, but he wasn't there.
When Nervous passed out from fatigue, unable to get to a bed before collapsing,
Circe headed towards the mirror to explore a new look. She settled on a spiky short-haired bruisy look much in chic in the current fashion rags.
Nervous spent his days tossed from one Beaker to the other haphazardly, according to the other's whim.
Finally, Loki bedded him, regardless of the pain and discomfort Nervous went through.
It hurt, but Nervous could do nothing.
Pretty soon it came time for Circe to deliver.
The baby was a girl. They named her Sasparilla, and Loki was bitterly disappointed. What the hell was the use of a little girl? He hoped Nervous threw true.
Nervous was, of course, the little girl's primary caretaker. Rilla looked just like her mother, though Circe had never had such innocence in her eyes.
It was exhausting enough being in his third trimester without having to take care of a newborn, but Nervous bore it in silence.
When the labor pains began to come, Nervous suffered through them as he had always dealt with pain -- in absolute silence, shutting his brown eyes against the tears.
Loki played chess against himself as Nervous sagged against the stone wall, occasionally glancing up to measure the young man's progress.
When it was all over, Nervous hugged his child close and glanced at Loki. "I-I-It's a b-boy," he said, his voice a ragged wisp.
"You're not serious!" Loki moved faster than Nervous had ever seen him move to inspect the baby between the legs.
Upon confirming the truth, Loki looked up with a terrifying look of rapturous joy. "It is a boy!" he cried. "His name is Loki!"
"Yes, of course," said Nervous. But he put "Ivoloki" down on the baby's birth certificate. Evil Loki. Fuck him. The baby had his eyes.
While Nervous tended to Rilla,
Loki was ignoring her in favor of his son.
Circe was simply happy not to be pregnant. She didn't care about the babies either way.
Happily, the nursery wasn't hard to furnish, though the kids would be sharing a room once they got older.
Then the unthinkable happened. Loki lost his job.
If Circe had argued with him about the baby, it was nothing compared to this. She was furious. "How are we supposed to pay for TWO manifestations of your moronic male ego without any CASH!" she screamed.
Loki was devastated. Not even the burble of Loki Junior's laughter could cheer him up for long.
Rejected by his wife,
his daily job search fruitless,
the Social Bunny came to him. Loki, ever bellicose, immediately vented his frustration on the stupid thing in epic battle.
The nursery was the only quiet room in the house, far enough away from the center of things that Loki and Circe's screaming didn't reach the children.
Nervous spent most of his time in the nursery with the babies. But if one thing got him angry, it wasn't their treatment of him.
It was the way Loki and Circe ignored their infant daughter. Circe ignored Ivoloki, but Nervous expected nothing else. Loki lavished attention on "Loki Junior," but if it weren't for Nervous, Rilla, sickly and needy, would have languished.
As if to compound their misfortunes, Circe got food poisoning from some pancakes that had been let out too long.
And then a hard-faced woman named Ophelia Nigmos came by.
- Current Music:sanzo from saiyuki~ "solitude"