#I can't say ANYTHING because otherwise somebody will tell others and shit's gonna go down

[crumpet-doodles]

[the-haunted-office]

Help! I need your advice! What are some good ways to get a good conversation going at a party? (I need some goofy advice from Doomsday please xD)

{ My character now has an advice column in a respectable periodical. Ask them advice on anything from romantic conundrums to windmill operation tips! }

Dear Tristan,

The best way to get a good conversation going at a party is to first know what a good conversation is, and that, of course, will depend entirely on what kind of party you are attending. Is it a Halloween party? A New Year's Eve Party? A graduation? A wedding reception? A wake? A birthday party? If so, how old is the person the party is for?

Notice how I didn't mention frat parties there. They aren't worth mentioning, except for here, which is to completely disregard them at all other times.

Now, once you discern which kind of party you are going to, you'll have a better idea of the kind of conversations that are acceptable to have. You can't go to a funeral and be cutting fart jokes, can you? I mean, you can, but you better be willing to lose some friends in the meantime, unless you can figure out how to wedge those fart jokes in there cleverly enough, but I wouldn't bet your friendships on it. At a funeral, you're better off sticking to conversations about the deceased's life, discussions about their accomplishments, making sure to highlight the things that made them the great and wonderful person that they were. Unless they were a piece of shit. And then you have to either make things up or scrape around the edges for whatever specks of goodness you can find. I wish you luck.

If it's a birthday party, well, you're in luck! You have a lot more leeway there. Of course, it all boils down to the age of the birthday party. You can't be all up in there talking about how hot Sally-Anne's mom is when Sally-Anne just blew out the ten candles on top of her Princess Ariel birthday cake. I mean, you could, but that's generally not socially acceptable. Now, if it's Sally-Anne's mom's birthday party and she just blew out her 37 candle birthday cake and you want to start a conversation about how hot she is, then you better either make sure you're her husband or that her husband isn't around and that every other person in that room is on your side, otherwise there might be some problems. Read the room, right? Otherwise you might want to stick to topics that are safe to talk about, which would be anything but the fact that Sally-Anne's mom just turned 37. I don't know, but women apparently don't like to talk about their age and it's considered rude, which is ridiculous to me because we're all aging, right? I'd say just tell her she's not better than the rest of us and to get over her middle-aged self and eat the damn cake and move on, but if you aren't comfortable with that, just call her hot and maybe start talking about sports or something.

Perhaps the best place to have a conversation is somebody's wedding, because you have a tremendous, and I mean a tremendous amount of power in your hands there. You could ruin someone's entire wedding. And not just their wedding, but their entire relationship. Imagine that! You, one person, one teeny tiny little person, with one brain, one mouth, and just a few minutes of time allowed to speak your piece, could wreck someone's entire relationship and lay waste to the thousands of dollars they spent on a capitalistic representation of said relationship. You could know all their secrets, couldn't you? You could even make something up. You could get up there and say whatever you want and they could do nothing to stop you. You could take the whole reception by storm simply by getting up on that stage or table or whatever there is and starting the conversation of the century, and the most they'd be able to do is yell at you to stop. Or maybe call the police, but what are they gonna do? Arrest you? For what? Speaking the truth? Disturbing the peace? You were invited! They invited you to their wedding! Awfully rude of them to ask you to give a speech and then call the police on you for giving it. At any rate, keep that in mind. The things you say at a wedding have weight. They could ruin. Or they could mend.

Anyway, Tristan, I hope that helps give you some insight. It all boils down to what kind of party you're at and what sort of person you are. Are you an utter piece of shit bent on causing as much chaos as possible? Then say the most off-the-wall shit you can think of to get the party roiling! Or, are you a soft and gentle soul, looking to keep the peace? If that's the case, then read the room and say whatever is socially acceptable at the time.

Hope you found this helpful! Best of luck!

Doomsday

[razzlerdazzler]

@lily-sinclair-2006 Hope you like it :)

Greg x Hurt Reader

Summary: You and Greg get into a car accident, causing you to go into a coma. Will you ever wake up?

Trigger:Car accident, coma

Man you were starving. Your alarm didn't go off this morning and you woke up late for work. You were in a rush to make it to work on time and didn't have time to eat breakfast. However, it was finally time for lunch. You walk into the break room and go over to the fridge. You were too busy looking for lunch to notice that somebody was sneaking up behind you. You suddenly feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You quickly whip your head around to see the culprit is, only to see Greg smiling mischeviously at you. "Holy shit Greg," you move your hand to your chest, feeling your heart beating like crazy. You can't tell whether it's because of the surprise or because of Greg. "You scared the shit out of me." You say. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He says with a smirk that says otherwise. You shake your head and quickly look around to see if anyone's coming to the break room. When you spot no one you quickly lean in and give him a peck on the lips.

As you pull away, he tries to lean in and kiss you again, but you put a hand on his chest and stop him. "What if somebody walks in?" You ask. You and Greg have been dating for a few months, but you haven't told the others yet. You were worried about what their reactions would be, especially Gils, since he was your boss. Greg whines. "Just one more. Please!" He gives you puppy dog eyes, that he knows you can't resist. You groan in fake frustration. "Fine, but just one." You lean in and peck his lips again. He sighs in satisfaction as you part. You smile at him and grab both of your lunches. You walk towards a table and sit down. Greg quickly follows you, and sits down across from you. You slide over his food, and you both start to eat.

"How's the book coming along?" You ask before taking a bite from your lunch. Greg swallows the food in his mouth and says, "it's coming along well, still got a few more chapters to write before I'm done." You smile at him. You remember when he first told you that he was writing a book about Vegas. You were so proud of him, hell you still are. "Cool, tell me when it gets published so we can celebrate," You say. "You'll be the first one I'll tell." He says, he pauses eating for a few seconds before he asks, "do you think people will like it?" You look up at him, surprised by the question. You grab his hand and look him in the eye, "they're gonna love it," you say. He smiles at your reassurance, and you smile back.

As you both finish your lunch break, Gil comes in. "Hey, there's been a murder at the Cards Casino, I need you two to head down to the scene." After he leaves, you and Greg go grab your equipment. "I'm driving," Greg says as he grabs the keys. "I wanted to drive." You say, frowning at him. "You snooze, you lose." He says, and you shake your head, but can't help but smile at his childish behavior. You get in the passenger seat while Greg gets in the driver's seat, and soon you're on your way to the crime scene.

You both sit in a comfortable silence until Greg says, "Want to come over to my place after our shift?" You feel your heart quicken at the offer. Even though you've been to Greg's place multiple times, even before dating, your heart still races at the thought of being with him. You smile, "sure, did you have anything in mind, that we could do?" "Well, I was thinking that we could watch that documentary about the history of Vegas' old crime bosses." He suggests with a small smile. "You nerd," you say, smiling. He smiles back and says, "yeah, but I'm your nerd." "That was so cheesy." You groan, feeling your face turn red. "You know you love me." He says, but before you can respond you hear the sound of tires squealing . Something suddenly hits the van, causing you to hit your head on the dashboard. Your vision turns to black.

All you can see is darkness, but you can hear voices. "The doctor says that they're stable, but they're in a coma. They say that they could wake up in a few hours, or in a few days." That's Sara's voice! Your in a coma? "It should have been me." That's Greg! You try to open your eyes, but can't. "Greg, this isn't your fault. The other driver was drunk. They were the one who sped past the red light, and hit you. That's Gil's voice. "But it is! If I had just let them drive, then maybe wouldn't be here. They wouldn't be in a coma. If I had just let them drive, then maybe they would be safe." You hear Greg's voice break, and you feel your heart shatter. "You don't know that." Gil says. "The same thing could have happened, even if they were the one driving instead of you. We shouldn't think about the what if's, but about what we know now. We know that you are both safe, and that they will wake up." It's silent for a few seconds until you hear Greg say, "thank you...for everything." "Of course," Sara says. "Call us when they wake up." Gil says, and you hear them walk out of the room. You feel yourself start to fall back into the world of sleep.

You wake up to the feeling of somebody holding your hand, and to the sound of Greg's voice. "Please wake up Y/N. I-I can't do this without you. I miss you. I miss seeing your beautiful eyes. I miss hearing you laugh at my corny jokes. I miss seeing your beautiful smile. I miss the feeling of you running your fingers through my hair. I miss you cheering me up after a shitty day. I miss how you let me rant to you about the most random facts. I miss the ways our bodies fit perfectly against each other when we cuddle. I miss how you feel like home. I-" He breathes in shakily. "I love you," he confesses.

Your brain short circuits. He loves you? He loves you. He loves you! You need to wake up! You need to tell him that you love him too. You try to squeeze his hand, but your fingers don't move. You try again, and this time you succeed. You lightly squeeze his hand. He gasps. "Y/N?" He asks, his voice full of hope. "Y/N if you can hear me, please squeeze my hand again." You squeeze his hand with ease this time. He sighs in relief. "Can you please try to open your eyes for me sweetheart?" He asks. It takes you a few tries, but you finally open your eyes. You are met by a blinding light. As soon as your eyes adjust to the light, the first thing you see is Greg's face. Tears are streaming down his face, but he's smiling. He has a few cuts on his face, and a black eye. "There are those beautiful eyes." He says, which causes you to smile. He moves his hand towards your face and cups your cheek. You close your eyes and lean into his touch.

You both stay there for a few seconds until a thought suddenly occurs to you. "Greg, how long have I been asleep?" He doesn't respond. You open your eyes and look at him. He seems apprehensive to tell you. "Three days," he says. Three days? You've been in a coma for three days? "THREE DAYS!? You yell. You move to sit up, but Greg stops you. "Hey, don't sit up so quickly, you have a concussion." You stop trying to sit up after he says that. "I have a concussion?" You ask, surprised. Greg stays silent for a few seconds, as if he's thinking about how to word something. He finally asks, "what do you remember from the crash?" You pause, trying to think back to what had happened. "We were heading to a crime scene. We were talking, and then something hit the van, and then it all just fades to black." You say. He nods and says, "A drunk driver didn't stop at the red light, and crashed right into us. He hit your side of the van, which caused you to hit your head on the dashboard."

You feel your blood run cold, as you think about the other driver. "Is he-" You start to ask, but Greg seems to know where your mind is going, and quickly cuts off your thought. "He's fine, he walked away without a scratch." He says. You sigh in relief, happy that the man's okay. The relief is short lived however, as you notice a pair crutches near Greg's chair. Greg seems to notice your look of terror, and looks confused until he notices that you're staring at his crutches. "Oh!" He says. "Don't worry, it's nothing serious, I just sprained my ankle." He explains, while moving his leg, showing you the brace he has on it. You relax at his words, happy that nothing's broken, or worse.

You both sit there in comfortable silence, until you sigh. There's no better time to tell him than now. "Greg, I need to tell you something," you say. He looks up at you, curious as to what you're going to say. "What is it?" He asks. You take a deep breath and say, "I love you too." His eyes widen, in surprise at your words. "You love me too?" He asks, a large smile, appearing on his face. "You love me too!" He says with excitement. He leans in and starts to pepper kisses all over your face, causing you to giggle. He suddenly stops and pulls back, looking confused. "You heard me?" He asks, and you smile, nodding your head. "I heard everything," you say.

He looks dumbfounded for a few seconds, before he smiles and says, "So you love me?" You nod. He leans in until his lips are only a hair's breadth away from yours, and says "I love you too." He closes the small gap between you two, as his lips connect with yours. His lips are warm and soft, and you can't help but want more. He moves his hands around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. You feel his lips part, as he lightly licks your bottom lip, asking for permission. You grant him permission and part your lips. You both groan as your tongues meet. One of your hands move to his head. You start to run your fingers through his hair. He whines at the action, and you can't help but smile at the sound.

You two keep kissing, until you hear a knock on the door. You both quickly seperate and look to see Sara, Gil, catherine, Jim, Warrick, and Nick standing in the doorway. "Sorry to intrude," Catherine says. You feel heat rise to your face as you think about the position you and Greg are in. You and Greg quickly release your holds on each other. They walk into the room, and Sara sits down in the seat next Greg. "Glad to see you're finally awake Y/N. You had us all worried for a little bit there," Gil says. "Thanks," you say smiling at him.

Sara decides to address the elephant in the room and asks, "why didn't you tell us you two were together?" "We were worried about how you all would react. We didn't want our relationship to affect the group, or our jobs," you say. "You mean you didn't know?" Sara asks. "Know what?" Greg asks, confused. "We kind of had a bet going on," Warrick explains. "It was about whether you two were together or not." Your eyes widen in shock. "And it seems Sara, Gil, and I won." Nick says, smiling. "How did you know?" You ask. "Well we all started to notice the looks you two kept giving each other, and how you both started to become more affectionate with each other," Gil explains. You blush in embarrassment. You thought you and Greg hid your relationship pretty well. Apparently not.

"You know, you two didn't have to hide this from us," Catherine says. "We would have supported you either way." You smile, happy that you have their support, and that you don't have to hide your relationship anymore. Greg smiles, and grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers. The group smiles at the interaction. "Now about that twenty dollars," Nick starts.

[donaweasley]

What If

Pairing: Loki x Fem! Avenger! Reader

Plot:

A silly game of “What-Ifs” between two friends eventually leads to the realisation that the future, if spent together, may not be as bleak as they had anticipated it to be. A dialogue-based best friends-to-lovers cliché.

Warnings: Relationship angst, too many dialogues, long read, happy ending!!!

Read time: ~28 mins

Author's Note:

It's a long read with far more dialogues than can be deemed healthy. The reason is, I didn't want their arc to feel rushed. It had to be cooked slow. Another reason is that, I can't help hearing my characters, and it triggers a flood of dialogues! I'm trying to work on controlling it. 😬 Hope you enjoy!

Now has a sequel: Their Little Secret

“C’mon! You’re breaking the rules now,” Loki casually waved his hand at his best friend.

“I’m not. There’s nothing to answer really,” (Y/N) replied with a shrug.

“There must be something on your mind!”

She pretended to think for a second, and shook her head.

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

It was a usual night in the compound. It was just another night when one of these two friends had called the other in the middle of the night for some midnight snack. It was just another of those happy times when they had tiptoed into the kitchen like thieves because...no, no one would mind some missing nachos or ice creams, but because it was fun!

It wasn’t easy for Loki to open up to someone, let alone to allow the other person in. Neither was it easy for (Y/N) to trust somebody, given her past, especially when that somebody was infamous for betraying almost everyone, at every step, not to mention his attempts at ruling Earth and causing massacre.

But time is a healer and a magician.

And here they were now, looking at the moon-washed night life through the west-facing glass wall, and playing a game of “what-ifs”. One would say that it was silly and immature; some would even call their talks gibberish. But when the night was so relaxed and carefree, why wouldn’t they be?

The pale yellow orb hovering above the western horizon cast a soft ray of light through the glass wall. Oblivious to its movements across the room, Loki and (Y/N) were wrapped in a thin blanket on a couch, their feet resting on two separate pouffes.

It had all started with a silly question, something like, “What if you weren’t stuck in this building tonight?”, or something along those lines; they didn’t even remember correctly anymore.

One question led to the other, and soon they found themselves tangled in a game of questions that would have been enough to create an alternate reality. But eventually, they found themselves, not answering with imaginary scenarios, but debating over one particular question:

“What if you find the love of your life tomorrow?”

This question was posed by Loki, rather theatrically, amidst the many others that had tossed different possibilities of their near future. And it was here that (Y/N) refused to play along anymore because, as she stated, it was “the most silly question ever”.

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

“So, you claim that my question is even worse than your ‘What if you were a Jotun cat’? What kind of a question is that anyway?” Loki teased.

“Of course, it is. Undoubtedly!” With one wave of her hand, (Y/N) dismissed his appeal.

“And how is that even logical, may I know?”

“C’mon, this entire game is out of the boundaries of logic,” she claimed. “Your behaviour is like that of a cat. Don’t make that face; it brings you closer to being a cat. And...a Jotun cat sounds cool!”

Loki sighed. “And my question is ridiculous! If the game is beyond all reason, then...” he shrugged, “say something...weird, and move on!”

“Fine! If I-if... If I meet the love of my life tomorrow,...I’ll stab him. Or her. Or them. I don’t even know.” She huffed.

“Ouch!” Loki made a face, ”Didn’t see that coming. I would enjoy the stabbing part though. Thank the Norns, you never declared your feelings for me!”

She looked at him sideways with a stern face. Loki noticed the irritation simmering just beneath her skin, ready to burst out at the next prodding.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on her arm, “what happened? Was it something I said?”

She turned her face away. But Loki wasn’t giving up that easily.

“(Y/N),” he gently tugged at her arm, “look at me.”

When she finally turned towards him, he held her by the shoulders just to make sure that she couldn’t move away again.

“Now, you’ll tell me everything. What happened?” He inquired again. “I thought you were having fun.”

“It’s nothing Loki, it’s just that...you know I don’t like discussing my non-existent love-life. It’s...it kind of makes me...sad sometimes. Especially in a setting like this!” She waved her hands at her surroundings. “I mean, look at it, a full moon, a silent night, blankets and… It just leaves me with this reminder that I’ll be alone all my bloody life!”

Loki’s hands slowly retracted from her form and folded themselves on his chest. And just like that, they both found themselves staring out of the window.

“I’m sorry,” Loki’s voice audibly reflected the guilt that had formed within, “I never intended to...”

“No, you shouldn’t be. It’s...I overreacted. I’m sorry, Loki. I just ruined the mood. Shit! And it’s not my hormones, mind you!”

“I know,” Loki chuckled. “And you did not ruin anything. It’s natural to feel, isn’t it?”

She looked at him with a raised brow, “Somebody’s learning!”

“Somebody’s got a good teacher,” he smiled.

“Aww!! I love it when you acknowledge my awesomeness!” She wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in closer, and pinched his cheek.

“Ugh! Let go of me! Let...go!!”

The room was filled with (Y/N)’s cackles and Loki’s threats as he wriggled out of her grip.

“Do that one more time, and I’ll stab you!”

But it wasn’t enough to stop her chortles.

“Would you now?” she teased, and raised her hands again in a faux attempt at squeezing his cheeks.

He swatted them away.

“Stop it!” He warned again, only to emanate snorts from her.

But the next second, his voice changed into a compassionate one, “Why do you think you’ll be alone all your life? How old are you anyway? 80? 90? Isn’t that supposed to be old in human years?”

Once again her cheerful mood fled behind a thick curtain of annoyance. But this time she did not look away. She simply rolled her eyes, and pulled her legs from the pouffe to sit cross-legged, and shifted to face him.

“No, I’m not that old. But why are you suddenly so interested in this topic?”

“Because suddenly, you seem to have found an interest in getting annoyed.”

“Then don’t annoy me.”

“Not in my nature, I’m afraid.”

She couldn’t decide whether to hit him or laugh at him.

“Loki-” She curled her fists and shut her eyes.

“I’m listening, darling,” he smirked.

Of course, she knew how stubborn Loki could be!

Who else would know that better than me?

“Okay,” she placed her palms flat on her thighs, “the thing is...I can never make a relationship last more than two years. I waste my time trying to establish a...a proper, long-lasting relationship - something permanent - and end up with a heartbreak. Every. Fucking. Time. I’ve given up. I’ve had enough! Now, even if anyone makes a move, or if I’m interested in someone, I just remind myself that it’s not gonna work! I just don’t put any effort anymore.”

Loki hummed in response; his eyes were focused on her as if he was trying to decipher a mystery.

“And,” she continued, “given my current ‘job’,” she air-quoted the word, “I’m more sure than ever that no one will last more than two months now!”

Once she voiced the storm in her head, her eyes softened and she looked down at her lap. Through hooded eyes, she stole a guilty, fleeting glance at her friend, who seemed to be musing about something really serious. His eyes were strained on the carpet, while his chin rested on a fisted hand balancing itself on his thigh.

For a long moment neither said anything. Only the distant buzz of the sleepless city floated through the air and filled the room.

It was Loki who disrupted the silence with a long and heavy sigh.

“I knew that Midgardian men were impatient, narcissistic-”

“Look who’s talking,” she smirked as she interrupted him.

He gave her a quick deadpanned stare before resuming, “-imbeciles, but I was beginning to think that they have good tastes in women. It’s disappointing, not surprising though, that they have proven me wrong.”

A small laugh almost made its way to its escape, but she pushed it back. “You think so?” She quipped.

He shrugged, “From what you’ve said, there is no reason to think otherwise.”

She sat a little straighter. “Really? Do go on!”

Loki immediately noticed the effect that he had planned for. Without giving away the joy of his small triumph, he continued, “Indeed! Look at you! You’re an amazing woman! You’re brave, witty, independent...smart...excellent with knives! And that’s my favourite thing about you, by the way. ”

Feigning offence, she exclaimed, “And I thought your favourite thing about me was that I tolerate all your tantrums, and keep up with your shenanigans.”

“I don’t throw tantrums, darling,” he pushed the accusation away with his silky tone, “and don’t tell me that you take no pleasure in the havoc that we wreck together.”

At this, she could no longer suppress the evil grin that spread across her face, “I do love a bit of chaos. It’s fun.”

“To think of it,” Loki added excitedly, “had you been on Asgard, you might have been the Goddess of Chaos!”

“Oh! Thank you!” She replied with a dramatic wave of her hands.

Both laughed at the way their words were unfolding.

“Thank you, Loki,” (Y/N) said after their little whirlwind of laughter had calmed down, “I guess I needed to hear something nice about myself. It’s been a long, long time since I heard it.”

“I meant every word of it,” he replied in a solemn tone that made something flutter in her chest.

Was it gratitude? Was it joy? Was it love for her best friend?

It was hard to tell. It seemed to be everything at once.

She simply smiled at him. “Even the ‘Goddess of Chaos’ part?”

“Especially that part,” he asserted, and she laughed.

“You’re the best, Loki!” She gave him a half hug.

“That, I definitely am. But you’re not too shabby yourself. And you should never ever be sad for someone else’s failure.”

“Alright, I get what you’re trying to do here,” she landed a playful punch to his shoulder. “I’m fine! Really! I just got a little carried away.”

“No, I really mean it,” he tried to assure her. “You are one of the most magnificent women I have known! And mind you, I’m rather picky in these cases.”

She laughed, “Of course, I’d know that! ... Loki, it’s...it’s alright. Some people just don’t have it in them to sustain relationships no matter how wonderful they are. I’m okay with it.”

“Come on! A narcissistic God is showering you with genuine compliments! And you’re still not convinced that it’s not your fault but of all those who failed to keep up with you?”

She tried another attempt at convincing him, “It works both ways.”

“Norns! I can’t believe you’re so foolish!”

“Enlighten me, please,” she drawled.

“I believe I have already established the fact that you are phenomenal.”

When she giggled and nodded, he carried on.

“Good. Now, your job, as you put it, shouldn’t be a hindrance in your relationship. You’re doing the marvellous job of being a guardian to thousands of people. People you don’t even know! How many would put their necks out there to do it?”

“C’mon, Loki, when duty calls, you have to leave everything behind and just go! Who’d tolerate that for days? They will snap one day.”

“I’d never do that!” Realizing his mistake, he quickly corrected himself, “What I mean is, had I been in their place, I’d have never done that.”

“That’s because you’re on the team,” she argued. “So, it’s normal to you.”

“No, it’s not because I’m on the team. I’d-” He sighed. “Fine, why don’t you try finding someone from this field? Stark’s parties are a great place to hunt humans.”

“‘Hunt humans’?” She snorted, “I like the sound of that. Nay, haven’t found anyone. Besides, mixing professional and personal life can be fatal. You never know when your personal life might get jeopardised because of a mission gone wrong. Y’know, the usual blame-game and all. I hate all that!”

Loki brooded over her words for a few seconds before asking, “I don’t get it. Why would it be fatal? I mean, look at us,” he gestured in between them. “We have a perfect understanding. We’d never blame the other for any petty thing. Or-or let it affect our friendship.”

“That’s because we have the perfect understanding, Loki! You said it yourself. It’s a rare thing that we have. And I can’t expect it to be with anyone else. They’re not you, Loki.”

“They’re not us,” he corrected her.

Joy seeped through his senses as he watched her face brighten up at his words.

With a nod, she continued, “You see, all that spark, excitement, promises - these sound really great at the beginning. As time passes, as the real world pushes in, love moves to the backseat. Love is not enough. There comes a time when you have to balance everything together, and love becomes one of those things. It becomes a chore.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow you,” Loki stated with a frown. “That sounds so sad!”

“It is!”

“Well, it shouldn’t be! Loving you shouldn’t be a chore! Let’s say...hypothetically...if I’m in love with you, then you’d be my passion. And passions never become a duty, not even in the worst of times. Instead, they help us breathe when everything comes caving in. You’d be my...my moment of peace in a war. How could I not be tempted to embrace this beautiful moment?”

“Unfortunately, Loki, that’s not how it works. See, when you have a lot on your plate, say your job, your dreams, your daily life and all the pressure that comes with these, you’ll find less and less time for your loved one. Things get hectic and eventually frustrating. You won’t be able to keep that flame alive even if you want to. And one day, you’ll come to realize that you have distanced yourself from your moment, even if you never wanted to. But it’d be too late. There’d be no going back.”

“I’d never distance myself from you! I mean, from my moment. I’ve been a king, and I know how taxing royal duties can be. Sometimes, it seemed like a luxury to get even a minute to myself.”

“See? So, how could you have found time for me?”

“I would have, darling. Not plenty, but whatever little time I’d have gathered, I’d have made them memorable. For you. For us. And maybe we could have gone on long rides occasionally. Rekindle the old flames? Or-or we could have gone on visits to other realms...for political reasons, of course, but could have taken the opportunity to spend a small vacation with each other. What do you say?”

Painfully tempting images of a life that could have been floated in her eyes.

“And what if we came back to Earth, and I got involved in...say, a job that was all hectic and left me all frustrated, and with little time for you?” She shrugged.

With a sigh, Loki shifted to face her fully. “We will take care of each other, (Y/N). If one gets low, the other pulls both up. And I know that together, we can do anything! I believe in you more than I believe in myself.”

She smiled brightly as she acknowledged, “That is...that sounds doable, yes.”

“You’re special,” he placed a hand on her cheek, “and you need to be treated in the most special manner. One that befits my queen.”

A moment passed between them as they looked into each other's eyes, both seeing the same beautiful picture.

His queen!

My queen!!

Wait, what is he...?

Damn! What am I doing! What will she...!

Loki cleared his throat as he abruptly pulled his hand back to his side.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“No, it’s okay,” she cringed at the way the words squeaked out of her. Clearing her throat, she continued, “We were just giving examples.”

“Yes, just examples,” he agreed.

“It’s fine! I understand.”

“Great! It’d have been quite...awkward...otherwise.”

“Oh no! It’s...uh...totally fine. We’re best buddies!” She gave his arm a light punch.

“Right!” He nodded, and focused his gaze on the floor.

After taking a minute to calm his heart, he wore his witty persona back.

“See, having a relationship is not at all tough. All you need is a good partner. And I’ve proved myself right again! No, wait. There’s something you mortals do. It’s...uh...about throwing something...”

“Goblets? We don’t do that. It’s you-”

“No, not throwing, it’s about dropping something...after you have proven a point...”

“...Mic drop?” She chuckled.

His eyes lit up.

“Yes! ‘Mic drop’. So, as I was saying, all you need to have a happy and successful relationship is a good partner. Mic drop!” He concluded as he mimicked the action.

She sighed. “There’s just one tiny problem. I’d probably never find the right person. The ones that flirt with me, don’t understand me, and the ones that understand me have friendzoned me.”

“I’ve never friendzoned you,” Loki quickly replied with a frown. “J-Just clarifying...in case you were talking about me.”

“Of course, I’m talking about you, you big oaf!” She flicked his arm.

“Hey! You friendzoned me.”

“No…? It was you! Well, yeah, I never tried to flirt with you or anything but...anybody could see that you were being just my friend.”

“I can say the same about you,” Loki playfully accused.

“Whatever,” she shrugged.

A thought started playing in her mind. And a couple of seconds later, she decided to say it aloud, “I...umm...Just curious...y’know, don’t take it in any other way. Did you ever think of flirting with me?” She put forward each word very cautiously.

Loki furrowed his brows, and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she warned him, “Be honest!”

Immediately, his confident attitude changed into a helpless one. “Yes, I did. Maybe once. Or twice. But that was all! I assure you!”

She could hardly contain the amusement that was bubbling inside.

“What’s so funny about it?” Loki asked with furrowed brows.

“Nothing,” she shook her head as she tried to hold back her laughter, “nothing at all. It’s,” and then she lost it, “I’m sorry! It’s funny! I don’t know why, I find it funny hearing from you!”

“Look who’s laughing!” He said wryly. “I could clearly hear your thoughts the first few days after I stepped into this structure. Every compliment that your little mind cooed at my divine persona. And may I dare say that not all of them were decent.”

Her hysterics were long forgotten as her face went red at the comment.

“How dare you invade my mind?” Her hand had balled into a fist, ready to hit his arm when he caught it.

“I didn’t invade it, darling. You were practically shouting inside that pretty head of yours. I could have heard it from the other side of the planet!”

“That was a long time ago,” she refused to meet his eyes. “I make better choices and better decisions now.”

“Do you?”

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it without uttering a syllable, and crossed her arms.

Loki nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, it’s fun to tease you. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I hate you,” she peeked at him through the corner of her eye.

“What can I say,” Loki sighed. “Alright, if you say so.”

She smirked as she glanced at him sideways.

Loki cleared his throat in a not-so-subtle manner. “So, the next time Stark throws a party, I’ll find someone for you.”

Immediately, she face-palmed, and groaned, “No.”

“What?”

“Please drop this topic. And you’d probably find me a psychopath, anyway” She joked.

“That hurt!” Loki exclaimed with a hurt look masking his humour, “do you think so little of me? Can’t I find a proper partner for my best friend, my darling?”

“No, it didn’t hurt. Don’t fake it. I know you better than anyone.”

“No, you don’t. You-”

“I do. And...I’m fine, Loki” she reassured him, “being with myself, with the people here, being with you.” She gently bumped her knee into his.

“Will these be enough?” His tone had left the playfulness behind. “Will I be enough? For all your life?”

She shrugged, “I think so. You...stick with me all the time, you understand me, you...make me feel good. What more could I want to be happy?”

“You know what more you are missing. A friend can never touch the boundaries of what a lover can give you.”

“I don’t need a lover. Just be with me all my life, and I won’t need anyone else.”

He gave her hand a light squeeze. “I will. I promise.”

Her playful smile was back. “Thanks for all the pep talk, my dearest God. But turns out that I’m better off alone. Now can we please go back to the game? It’s my turn to ask you.”

“Alright,” he smiled back, “if you say so.”

“Stop saying that!” A defeated sigh left her. “You won’t be convinced, will you?”

“Probably not. Because I know that this will gnaw at you again a few days later. I know you’ll be sad again. And that I won’t allow on my watch.”

“God!”

“Right here, listening to you!” Loki quipped.

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, ”Damn you!” And proceeded to put forward a proper argument.

“The reason why I’m avoiding a new relationship is because I don’t want another heartache. I can’t handle breakups. That’s why I’m...”

When Loki didn’t make another attempt at dissuading her from her arguments, she added, “I just...try everything to avoid a heartbreak. Because when I get one, I lose control over myself.”

“Yes, I’ve seen. Once.”

“Then you must have noticed how vicious I become. Sarcasm drips from my mouth all the time, I say things that I shouldn’t, I...I hurt people. And in turn, I hurt myself. I yell at those who want nothing but good for me. But...”

“But being mean seems to be the only way to mask the pain,” he finished her line.

“It does, yes!”

She looked at him, and into his eyes that silently spoke of the pain that was resurfacing. She remembered something.

“You and I are so...alike!”

He nodded with a smile. “And maybe that is why we understand each other more than anyone ever could. … But we’re more than just being alike, if you think about it.”

She noticed how his voice gradually rose from its usual calmness to an excited tone, and his hands moved with his words.

Loki continued, “You point out my mistakes but don’t accuse me like everyone else does. You show me what’s right. And there’s this-this thing about you, which is so scary...the way you make me do all the things that you want. I-I mean, I am the God here! But you…a mortal...how can you have so much power over me?”

He sighed as his voice dropped to a compassionate tone, “You make me happy, (Y/N). You’ve taught me to forgive when I can, to forget what I can’t fix.”

“Don’t always do that,” she interrupted with a smirk.

His evil smile made a brief appearance before he resumed his warm note, “I like being with you. No...I love being with you! You make me feel good. You make me feel...I don’t know.... You make me feel…”

“Complete?”

“Yes!” He observed her, “You complete me.”

For yet another time, silence enveloped them. The only difference was that this time, it was comfortable. Even in their hushed moments, they could hear each other, know what the other wanted to say.

After a while of exchanging quiet stares, (Y/N) spoke, “All this time I believed, but now I know for myself, that you are indeed Silvertongue!”

Loki looked at his lap and laughed, but in the pale light of the setting moon, she noticed the pink that had crept up his ears and cheeks.

“I meant every word of what I said,” he reassured her once again that evening.

“I know, Loki.”

Loki watched her as she shifted to a kneeling position, and leaned towards him. He felt his face becoming hotter as she supported herself on his shoulder with one hand, and placed a soft kiss on his cheekbone.

As she settled back, her lips tingled with the memory of Loki’s skin on it.

They had been best friends, yes, but she had never allowed herself more than a quick hug because she knew that Loki wasn’t someone open to random touches. And she wanted to respect that. Always.

But this peck felt right. It felt necessary. And it felt...different.

What happened next wasn’t guided by logic anymore, but only by their senses.

Loki put his legs back on the pouffe, and scooted a little closer to (Y/N). Taking the cue, she shifted so that her leg was stretched out, and back on the pouffe - not on hers but his - and sat close to him. He arranged the blanket so that it covered them both again.

Another stretch of silence enveloped them. To them, the moment was beautiful. To Loki, who had never experienced anything similar before, it was precious. If he could stop time, he would have done it right then and there.

“Why haven’t you found anyone yet?” She asked him.

“Royalty has its disadvantages,” he replied without taking a moment to think.

She leaned back slightly to get a good look at his face, “Didn’t you ever find anyone from the royal...uh...what do you call it? Of royal blood?”

Loki laughed at her naivety. “Can’t say I didn’t. But none of them were the one. Besides, most people chose my handsome brother over me. And if anyone chose me, well, it was mostly because of my royal title. None of them were real.”

“That’s awful! I would never have done that to you! I’d have chosen you for the wonderful being that you are. But, I get it; happens on our planet, too.”

“Everywhere,” he asserted.

“So...who do you think is the one for you?”

He looked down at her face, which was mere inches away from his. For the first time in months of their friendship, he felt something swell inside his chest at the closeness.

“I still don’t know,” he whispered, “but I think the Norns might have started giving me clues.”

He didn’t need to explain, obviously. All the tension that had been building up throughout the night had placed them both on the same page.

Without thinking, Loki moved his wrist so that his palm was facing the ceiling. And instinctively, (Y/N) placed her hand in it, their fingers closing around each other.

"It's odd," she announced after a while.

"Indeed."

"It's weird. I mean, what were we even thinking!" She huffed, although she was still clutching his hand, as was he holding hers.

"Exactly what I was thinking. You and me?” Loki laughed nervously, “Come on!"

"Yeah!"

"Right".

Silence, their faithful companion for the night, visited them once again.

"Could it be? You and me?" Loki’s voice was a little more than a whisper, and bordered on the edge of confidence and doubt.

"Doesn't sound so bad. Not after all these... Talks?" She whispered back.

"Right!"

"Right."

And once again, they fell quiet.

The strangeness of the moment pushed them both into a whirlpool of thoughts. From acquaintances to partners to friends to best friends to...lovers?

Can this even be possible? What if it’s just a passing phase? What if everything goes back to normal tomorrow? Will we still be able to talk normally? But… This feels right. Just...right.

With a sigh, (Y/N) put her head on Loki’s shoulder.

"I don't want to rush into anything and ruin what we have," she confessed in a hushed tone, eyes staring into the night outside.

"Neither do I. You're the only one I have."

With a raised brow, she looked up at him.

"And Thor," he corrected himself with a small smile.

"Glad you remember him "

"Shut up.

Slowly, hesitantly, Loki put his free hand around her. Unsure of the appropriateness of the action, he kept his arm loosely hanging around her frame.

He waited for a while. Had Loki looked at her face, instead of looking straight ahead in fear, he would have noticed the small smile that had formed on her lips.

When she didn’t flinch or protest, he began to rest his arm properly but gently on her. He even went ahead and made the slightest possible effort to pull her closer to him.

The smile that had started forming on her now spread wide enough to turn into a grin. Its reflection was found on Loki’s face, too, who could finally muster the courage to look at her, although he was equally worried that she would be able to hear his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

With every minute that passed, Loki became more baffled, for he couldn’t decide which moment he’d frame and hang on the wall of his heart as the most precious one.

"Are you feeling hot?" She asked without looking at him.

"A bit, yes. You, too?"

"Quite a bit, actually," she gulped.

"Is it normal?"

"I guess, yes. Totally! Had we been cool about it, it'd have meant that there's no spark between us. It’d have felt awkward, wrong."

"So, you agree that there's a spark between us?" He didn’t even attempt to hide the mischievous smirk that shone on his face.

"I had always suspected," she nodded.

"Hmm. When was the last time we went out for dinner?" He asked.

“Probably last month...or was it-”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up to look at him. She could barely put a lid on her excitement.

"Are you proposing to take me out on a date?"

"Well, if we are going to do this, then I'd like to court you properly."

She felt like she'd burst out of sheer excitement.

"If you'd agree to it, that is" Loki clarified.

Taking a large breath, she replied, "I'd love it."

The night was going better than either had expected. Who would have thought that a game of weird questions and a few confessions could change their lives!

(Y/N) put her head back on his shoulder, and let her body slump against him. He held her confidently this time.

“It still feels weird though,” she declared.

“It does, yes, but...maybe this is...right?” In a long time, Loki was hopeful about something, and he wasn’t going to let it slip away. No.

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.”

“Just so you know,” she sat up straight, “Thor is handsome, yes, but you are devilishly charming. You’re intelligent, well-read, witty, sarcastic, great at combat...uh...”

“Go on,” Loki smirked, earning a playful glare from her.

“You are,” she continued, “seductive! And who can resist a sorcerer who knows his way around everything!”

The evil smile that Loki had put away found its way back on his face. “As far as I remember, I did nothing to seduce you. I wonder what will happen if I try...”

“Shut up, Loki! You know I give away raw compliments. I didn’t really mean...I didn’t think...”

He laughed heartily at the furious way she was blushing.

“I was only pulling your leg. I had imagined you to be wise,” he clarified.

“I am! It’s just... I was...” She shook her head.

“So,” Loki resumed, “you think I’m devilishly charming?”

“Drop the topic, please!”

“You can’t resist my sorcery, ha?”

“Please change the topic! Forget what I said!!”

Loki laughed as he continued teasing her. It wasn’t going to be an easy ride, she realized, with the God of Mischief, but it was going to be the best ever!

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“I know it was your turn to ask but, what if...you and I are indeed meant to be together?”

She smiled as she rubbed her cheek on his shirt, “I think we’ll have a gorgeous future together. And...I’d love that more than anything else.”

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

The next morning...

“Morning, Wanda-”

“Shh! Shh!!” The red-haired witch silenced Natasha, and pointed towards the couch.

Curious, Natasha’s eyes followed the direction that Wanda’s finger was pointing at.

There, snuggled in a blanket, fast asleep, sat (Y/N) and Loki, their legs spread on a pouffe, tangled with each other’s. Loki’s arm was wrapped around her shoulder while she was holding his waist. Her head lay on his chest and his on hers.

“Aren’t they cute?” Wanda whispered.

Before Nat could reply, Tony’s voice cut the conversation.

“Who’s cute?”

This time, both the ladies shushed him, leaving a perplexed expression on his once sleepy face.

When they pointed towards the couch, Tony huffed, “These two! God knows what’s taking them so long to realise! They’re just so-” His face lit up. “Know what? I have an idea! I’ll make them confess. Who’s up for it?”

***

Now has a sequel: Their Little Secret

And...a song for keeping the feelings floating...💕

[lichfucker]

blorbo meme from ur own rpg repertoire 👀

oh g-d okay, I'm only gonna do my own characters bc I don't know how I could possibly pick if I were including other pcs from the games I'm in so. here we go sfdslkjf

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

ingot the feather-light, my rotten soldier my sweet cheese my good-time boy. ingot is going to be a part of my soul for the rest of my life. they're trying so hard and they don't know how. they're learning so much. they're so many things they never thought they could be-- so many things I never thought they could be. all they've ever wanted was to be good. that hasn't changed; the definition of "good" has changed. what does it mean to have +13 insight and -2 charisma? to understand other people so acutely, yet be so unable to make yourself understood in return? whom do you rely on when you can't rely on yourself? where do you put all the anger? how do you remake yourself when you don't know what to be? he's trying. he's trying

and cirrus... cirrus... I can't even find the words. she was asked at a very young age to pick between a life where everyone adored her and she could do no wrong and she'd be treated as well as possible, and a life she could spend with her brother. and she chose the latter. and she is spiteful and remorseless and cold, because a world that would shun and admonish her brother is not a world that deserves her kindness. it's not a world that deserves her respect. and I am building a world fit for her disrespect, because she isn't finished yet. I'm not ready to be finished with her yet

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

beezus my friend beezus. beezy baby I care you so much and I miss you every day. o to be a softhearted child so far from home, with people so accustomed to the coldness and cruelty of the world, confused and conflicted by the distinction between "a monster" and "a person deemed monstrous"

a distant second place but worth mentioning, I think: chirp. what a sweetheart. I played them for three sessions and then said "okay that was nice, I'm gonna go back to playing abrasive assholes now"

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

avriel has been trapped in a dungeon for like a year and a half now sweetie I'm so sorry I promise we'll come get you as soon as a) the campaign comes back and b) we're high enough level that we won't immediately tpk

also reed, I never talked about that game much but I miss it and I miss zim. ze was just doing zer best. there was just so much fucked up shit at this summer camp and ze was struggling so much trying to protect and comfort even a single person

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

[redacted] ;^) jd knows what I mean and that's all I can say

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

mickey the poorest little meow meow. I've played mickey for three sessions and so far all she's done is join a cult, punch a dog-sized spider to death with a push knife, get traumatized, go to jail, fight with her wife, and fail to murder somebody. oh and they brought their fellow cult member to their wife's friend's house to hide from the cops and I'm 99% sure the friend is gonna tell mickey's wife that he's having an affair. miserable wretch of a person. spent two weeks healing a sprained ankle instead of seeing his children

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

oh hands-down ingot and mickey are the most fun to torment. I was miserable during the first ghul fight, and then ingot died, and suddenly I was having a FANTASTIC time. mickey... keep ruining your own life bby I'm so proud of you

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

I GUESS the objectively correct answer is viol but actually she's never done anything wrong in her life. it's not her fault that baby was fucked up. the baby had it coming. viol was just doing their job

andy is already in superhell. they moved to rural texas and immediately almost got killed by a demon lmfao

[mayfriend-archive]

Totally understand if you're not up for it and fully recognize the ronald mcdonald dom/sub anon vibes which is an AMAZING post btw but like...now i'm curious, what the hell did Lord of the Flies anon DO that got him blocked for the discourse? like...i just can't wrap my head around high school lit being...uh...that inflammatory i guess?

Okay so, I'll start by saying I've had a new anon from apparently the same anon saying they are NOT the person I blocked, just a rando making the same points, but I'll answer your question anyway just to set out why this person in particular got blocked, out of the several thousand who reblogged/commented on that very successful addition to the LoTF post I made.

First off, I added the 'real life Lord of the Flies' story because I thought it was a good story. I had read about it only a couple days beforehand in Humankind and, after reading out the entire chapter to my parents who weren't very interested, I was excited that there was not only a post where it would be relevant to post, but that I wouldn't be hijacking it, as it was already rejecting the widespread interpretation taught in many schools, that humanity is inherently savage.

When making the addition, I a) did not think it would get more than a couple reblogs, because the post was already at 50k notes and I figured anyone that might be interested would already have seen it, and b) I did not know the very specific context that prompted William Golding to write the book; all I knew was that he had been a teacher at a public school (basically, the poshest schools in the country - think Eton, Harrow, very 'old money' places that pump out Conservative politicians by the bucket-load 🤢) who hated his job and the boys he taught (which, valid), and new information I'd been given in Humankind - that Golding had said to his wife one day, "Wouldn't it be a good idea to write a story about some boys on an island, showing how they would really behave?" - which had no mention of The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne, which I have since learned was the text that Golding loathed enough to write an entire novel in refutation of - and included what I considered a very telling letter from Golding to his publisher, in which Golding wrote of his belief that 'even if we start with a clean slate, our nature compels us to make a muck of it.' Another Golding quote that I believe portrays his belief in humanity's 'innate savagery' is that "man produces evil as a bee produces honey."

Obviously, the author of a book putting forward the case for humanity's inherent goodness was going to oppose Golding's hypothesis; Bregman not only noted Golding's literary accomplishments and beliefs, but his personal life.

When I began delving into the author's life, I learned what an unhappy individual he'd been. An alcoholic. Prone to depression. A man who, as a teacher, once divided his pupils into gangs and encouraged them to attack each other. "I have always understood the Nazis," Golding confessed, "because I am of that sort by nature." (Humankind by Rutger Bregman, p. 24-25)

I have bolded the part about him as a teacher, because it is incredibly relevant to the original post that I commented on, which begins with a comic of a teacher locking her class in to see them 'recreate' Lord of the Flies, something which the follow up comments before mine staunchly reject as both misunderstanding the point of the book, and the fact that it took the kids in Lord of the Flies a significant amount of time without adult supervision to go 'savage'. This misreading of the text is widespread enough that when Golding won the Nobel Prize for Lord of the Flies, the Swedish Nobel committee wrote that his book 'illuminate[s] the human condition in the world of today'. Whether or not they misread it is beyond my expertise - they do at least mention the factors of the outside world neglected by many when analysing the book, but still seem to believe it says something about human nature as a whole rather than just, to quote thedarkbutbeige 'British kids being rat bastards' - but Golding quite happily took his Nobel prize on this basis. Which, in fairness, I would too. It's a fucking Nobel prize.

It was with this knowledge, and this knowledge alone, that I stated in my now very, very widely read comment that Golding 'wrote the book to be a dick', in response to the tags of the person I reblogged from. As I said, I now know that Golding did not write the book (solely) because he hated the kids he taught, but as a response to The Coral Island and the general idea that clearly the British were inherently civilsed, whilst the people they colonised and enslaved were inherently savage. So. That's the background.

The anon - or rather, the person I thought was anon - was the sole exception out of dozens of replies, who instead of telling me about The Coral Island politely decided it was time to go ALL CAPS and regurgitate points already made by thespaceshipoftheseus, and implied that the only reason that the real life Tongan castaways didn't go all Lord of the Flies was because they weren't British. Not because they weren't surrounded by violence like the boys in Lord of the Flies, or there wasn't a World War ongoing, or that they weren't the upper, upper, upper crust of a class-obsessed society like Britain - but because they weren't British. A complete inversion of the concept that Golding was trying to get across - now, instead of all of humanity being equally prone to savagery in the right conditions, it was solely nationality that determined it. As in, the British were inherently savage, but nobody else was.

I, trying for humour, made the terrible mistake of replying to them.

I won't lie, I was absolutely blown away that this was real life. What I think they were trying to do was be that Cool Tumblr Person who, after somebody's been shitty on a post, goes to their blog and sees something Damning in their about/description. In an ideal world, I imagine I'd have gone nuts or done something Unforgiveable. In what I can only call the rant that followed, they stated several times that I needed to go back to high school to get some 'proper literary analysis' skills and that the story of the Tongan castaways was completely unrelated to the point at hand which. I mean, I disagree, considering that I made the addition, but I couldn't get my head around how commenting on a post that was already rejecting the thesis that the 'point' of Lord of the Flies was that humanity was inherently savage and was, in fact, about how kids - British or otherwise - learn how to function from the adults around them, and that traumatised, terrified children aren't going to create a mini-Utopia, and put forward a real life example of how without the key additions of an ongoing world war, a colonial Empire and the subsequent mindset of thinking you are 'inherently civilised' and therefore can't do anything wrong, actually, people just want to take care of each other.

A friend has since asked me why I even have 'england' in my description. To be honest, it's a timezone thing - I talk to a lot of people online who don't share my timezone, and it generally makes me feel like if I don't reply immediately because it's 3am, they have the tools to see that I'm not in their timezone and not just ignoring them. I did consider changing it to 'british' or 'uk' after it was... 'used against me', I guess, simply because I didn't want to deal with it, but you know what. No. Not gonna do that. I am from England, and I have never hid that fact. I have a tag called 'uk politics', during Eurovision I refer to the UK's act as 'us' (even if I really, really don't want to. Because James Newman slaughtered that song and it was downright embarrassing), I regularly post stuff in my personal tag about where I live (and mostly complain about this piece of shit government). If people really think my nationality makes every point I make null and void, then they don't have to follow me or interact with my posts; tumblr is big, and I am one medium-small blog very easily passed over.

I did reply to them, trying to explain the above, but their next response really just doubled down. Because I used the word British instead of English - foolishly because the posts above mine focused on Britishness, and also because although Golding was English and taught English kids, the pro-Imperialism author of The Coral Island, R. M. Bannatyne was actually Scottish so, ding ding ding, falls into the 'British' category - they then decided that I was somehow trying to pretend I wasn't English and made all the same points, before ending with this doozy:

At this point, I knew there was nothing to be gained from replying, because if we're whipping out conditions like they're pokemon cards then there's no actual conversation anymore, and I'm not going to start mudslinging like an identity politician. They made up their mind, and I figured there could be no harm in letting them think that they 'won' by blocking them instead of replying.

Until the ask. INNATE ENGLISH SAVAGERY did, I'll admit, make me think it was them, back again. I even thought up a really good response approximately 12 hours after I replied, I was that sure. Until the second message came in, and said they were just someone who came from the post and made the same point by chance. So the saga draws to a close... for now.

It may have been them, it may not have been - the anon feature makes it impossible to be sure, but as the second message I got said, we're in a heatwave. It's too hot to argue. And I've just written a goddamn essay about a book I dislike anyway.

My pasty English ass is going to go melt. If there's Disk Horse, do not tell me. I am Done™

[mellometal]

Hey, everyone.

If you saw the post from earlier, I had to delete it. There were things I forgot to discuss and things that didn't get saved into my drafts. Sorry if you have to see this again.

I've been WAITING to talk about Glee. Not in the good way either. There's so much wrong with the show, and it's sickening. Yes, I've watched the show last year. Against my will, but that's because of other people refusing to put on anything else besides Glee. I can say that I hate Glee with my entire being. (My initial reason for hating it was because they covered "SING" by My Chemical Romance and turned it into a slow, patriotic song when it's a song about rebellion. NOTHING about "SING" is patriotic. I hated the show since I first heard about it...for that very reason. I was like thirteen or so at the time when I first heard about Glee? Despite it being out since 2009.

Though it's been over for several years now, it's a show that many people have mixed feelings about. From what I've seen, you either love Glee or you absolutely hate it. There's no in-between that I've seen. (If you can't already tell, I hate the show.)

The show is a literal dumpster fire, the characters are all fucking awful people and all of them are poorly written, the script pisses me off, it literally makes me feel disgusting, and don't even get me started on the covers. Most of the covers aren't that good. A lot of them sound like nails on a chalkboard to me. The pacing of the show makes NO sense in certain areas (like when Blaine was initially made to be a grade above Kurt, but was then changed to be like the same grade as him so he'd stay). It just feels like everyone in the show is either a Mary Sue, a Gary Stu, their whole personality is just that they're from a minority group or they're EDGY AND HARDCORE DELINQUENTS BLEEEEHHHHH, creepy as fuck, bigoted as all hell, or they're just background characters who occasionally have the spotlight.

TW: The following post and any other posts that I'll make about this show contains subject matter that may be triggering for some audiences. It will go into subjects like racism, homophobia, ableism, outing of a person in the LGBT community, bigotry in general, statutory r@pe (between teachers and students), teachers being creepy towards students, mentioned past child m0l3stati0n and invalidation of the victim's trauma, making fun of su1c1d3, making fun of overdose, making fun of drug addiction....a lot of fucked up things.

If anything mentioned above is triggering for you, please feel free to scroll and consume safe media instead. I'd rather have you be safe than to be triggered by anything I'm gonna talk about.

Let's start off easy. The characters. It's easy to tear them apart. At least the most problematic ones.

Rachel, the Main Character™️, is textbook definition of a Mary Sue. Instead of calling her Rachel, I'm gonna call her Mary Sue for the whole post. She's almost completely perfect (like too perfect), her flaws are minor if anything, she gets all the special treatment....you get the picture. When Mary Sue does anything fucked up or she says anything fucked up, it either goes unnoticed, people make up excuses for her being a shitty person, or it gets twisted so it looks like Mary Sue is the hero! (I hate her. So much. I cannot stand her.)

Aaawwww, Mary Sue didn't want some OTHER GIRL (Sunshine) to steal HER spotlight, so she SENT THIS GIRL TO A CRACK HOUSE. A FUCKING CRACK HOUSE, OF ALL PLACES. A PLACE WHERE THIS GIRL COULD HAVE BEEN PUT IN SERIOUS DANGER. THIS GIRL COULD HAVE BEEN SERIOUSLY INJURED AT BEST AND KILLED AT WORST. Yes, I'm aware not all drug houses are the same, but still. It doesn't matter what this girl did. What Sunshine did is irrelevant. It's not okay to send people to strange places where they don't know anyone, and are put in danger, even to the point of either getting injured or killed. But it's okay, because at least it's not an "active" crack house you sent Sunshine to, RIGHT, Mary Sue? You still sent some poor girl to a place where she could have been put in serious danger, even to possibly get injured or killed, all because you didn't want her to steal YOUR spotlight. You fucking disgusting, entitled, bratty cunt. You don't need the spotlight all the time anyway. THAT'S HOW THEATRE WORKS. YOU DON'T ALWAYS GET THE LEAD ROLE. YOU DON'T ALWAYS GET THE ROLE YOU WANT. AND THAT'S OKAY. YOU WORK WITH WHAT YOU GOT. Sincerely, a theatre kid.

There are other fucked up things Mary Sue has done, but this is the one thing I could find anyone talking about. If I remember correctly, she hurt her Gay Best Friend™️ Kurt in some way. All I remember is that Kurt was mad at Mary Sue about something. Mary Sue is annoying as fuck. What else can I say about her?

Next, we have Finn, who's textbook definition of a Gary Stu. I'll call him Gary Stu throughout this post. I hate this fucker too. He's the Main Character's Boyfriend™️, the Hot Quarterback™️, and The Good Guy™️. Yet....he's not a good person. He's treated like he's a good person, but he's really not. His flaws are fairly minor and excused (and any major flaws aren't even talked about much), he's almost completely perfect, and every fucked up thing he does is ignored or is justified in some way. Like how he outed Santana as lesbian in the hallway WITHIN EARSHOT OF EVERYONE. HE DIDN'T EVEN APOLOGIZE FOR THIS.

As a woman who has struggled with her sexuality growing up, this really brought back shit I went through. I "dated" boys when I was younger to cover up the fact that I'm only attracted to other women. I wasn't happy with these guys at all. I acted like I did so nobody would suspect anything. I felt nothing for them, except for in a platonic way. I've been outed twice. Once when I thought I was bisexual with a strong preference for other women (by my dad's girlfriend at the time), and when I came out as lesbian (by my brother). It sucks to be outed. The people who outed me in real life could have put me in danger. They could have made it so I had no place to go back to. They could have had me get hurt. It's a scary feeling. Like, it doesn't matter if you're supportive or if you're in the LGBT community. You don't fucking out people without their explicit permission. You especially don't out people to their abusers or to people they don't trust, let alone out them publicly. That's what happened to me. I don't wish this on anyone.

***By the way, for anyone who's closeted, you're valid, I love you, and I know how it feels to be stuck in the closet. You don't have to come out right now. Come out whenever you're ready to. Whenever it's safe for you to do so.***

Or how about the fact that Gary Stu made fun of Kurt's voice because he's gay? Gary Stu apparently has ✨anger issues✨ and that's pretty much the excuse they use to justify him doing fucked up shit to people.

They treat the characters who are from minority groups (i.e., BIPOC, AAPI, LGBT community, disabled people) like absolute garbage, put them through all this horrific shit, or they put them on a pedestal simply for being in a minority group. The teachers and other school staff are either written to be total bigots (Sue), or they're total pr3dators (Mr. Schue, the school nurse, and another teacher who I can't remember her name off the top of my head).

Sue pretty much only exists to be a poorly written villain who's a bigoted bitch just to be a bigoted bitch. Yes, there were some things she WAS right about (like how "Blurred Lines" wasn't an appropriate song choice for the Glee Club™️, but Mr. Schue The Pr3dator™️ downplayed it). Other than that...that's all I can think of. Because everything else that came out of her mouth was bigoted bullshit. Like these right here, for example:

Or how she drugged the principal, date r@ped him, and blackmailed him?

How about them making a tasteless joke about Sue committing su1c1d3 and having her "overdose" on multivitamin gummies?

DO I NEED TO EXPLAIN HOW FUCKED UP ALL OF THIS IS? I do? Well, first of all, she called people racist, homophobic, ableist, and otherwise disgusting names. She boiled them down to their race, sexual orientation, their disability, and their appearance in general. Second, SHE DRUGGED, BLACKMAILED, AND DATE R@PED SOMEBODY. I don't think I need to explain how that's bad. The evidence is right there. Third, she said she was committing "sue-icide" by overdosing on multivitamin gummies. (Yes, you actually can OD on vitamins in supplement form, and it can cause serious symptoms and even death. Specifically with vitamins A, D, E, and K, and Iron. Vitamins A, D, E, and K are fat-soluble. They're a lot harder to remove from the body. The B vitamins and vitamin C aren't as severe if you do OD on them because they're water-soluble, but still be careful. You can't OD on vitamins and minerals you find in food. If you take supplements, vitamins, etc., only take what's on the bottle.) As someone who has su1c1d@l thoughts on and off, this is extremely insulting. Yes, I do use humor and I joke about my own experiences to cope, but this? Nah. Nothing about this is funny or cute in the slightest. Enough said.

Do I need to explain how fucking terrible it is to make light of a serious topic like this? It was never funny to see Britney Spears' mental health be at that low of a point in 2007. It was never funny to see the abuse the paparazzi inflicted on her. How the fuck was this ever okay? You can dislike Britney Spears all you want, but this was never it.

This is all I have for now. I'll probably make a part two because there are way too many things to talk about.

[corvid-knight]

Demon Eyes - chapter 23

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/33289857

You're grabbing frantically at the handle to your truck's door when somebody grabs you from behind, hands clamping down on your shoulders and spinning you around.

No! Your mind is a weapon, your mind is a fucking sword, Bro can take you but you're sure as fuck going to hurt him as much as you can before he does, make him kill you instead of—

"Shit, Dave, stop!"

D. It's D, you realize that as he hisses instead of trying to say anything else to you, his face screwing up in a pained grimace. He doesn't let go of you, though. Doesn't bear down harder to try to inflict enough pain to get you to stop either.

He's bleeding too, from a cut almost hidden in his hairline at his temple. You remember the scar there; when you were a kid you were unreasonably fascinated with it, always wanted to touch it, give him little-kid kisses there because even if Bro never did that shit you knew that you kissed things to make them better. You never knew how he got it, but now you have an idea.

"Hey—" D starts.

"No." You try to jerk back, out of his grip, and nearly just go into a spiraling vaporlock of panic as your shoulders hit the truck. You can't retreat, he's got you cornered, you can't—stop. Stop. Stop. "Fuckin' let me go, D, let me go, this is my fault, I can't—"

"It's not your fault, kiddo, and you're not going anywhere but back inside." He's got his voice back down to comforting, reassuring, calm despite the fact he's bleeding—and not just from the little cut on his head; you can see a darker red stain working its way through his red shirt. "C'mon, we need to figure this shit out, it's—"

You lose the rest of his sentence, because he pulls you forward a little and tries to wrap his arm around your shoulders, brushes against that fucking tattoo, and your mind goes pure white with panic. The next thing you know you're on your knees on the lawn, doubled over and hugging yourself, and your left hand hurts like hell.

Your ears are ringing. You can't fucking breathe.

"Dave."

Hal. That's Hal.

He's kneeling next to you, and you force yourself to straighten up enough to look at him. You can't read a single fucking thing off his face, which most likely means he's scared out of his mind, and there's a bloodstain on his shirt, about at the bottom of his ribcage. About where Dirk was injured, you think. Fuck.

"I need to go," you tell him, wishing you could force your voice to be louder. "I need—"

"—to come back inside and let us handle this logically," he finishes before you can.

"No!"

"Yes. What are you going to accomplish this way, Dave?" For a second, somethingflashes across the shikigami's face, there and gone too quick for you to read anything but pain in it. "Are you planning to sacrifice yourself in hopes that he'll abandon his designs on the rest of us?"

"Fuck yes I am!" Let him fucking kill me. Let him take me and have me for whatever the hell he wants, as long as he leaves all of you out of it, you think, and immediately get a flash of denial from Karkat.

It hurts, but you slam the door between his mind and yours shut. Cut him off as completely as you can. You can't let him follow you.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Dave," Hal says in that eerie-calm voice that he uses instead of showing any kind of emotion when he's upset. It takes you a second to remember what he's responding to.

"You can't tell me I can't—"

"Bullshit I can't. You're my fucking brother, you know that." Hal crosses his arms and frowns at you, the expression only lasting a moment before his face goes blank again. "I'll die before I let that bastard touch you again."

He'd die for me. "Don't you dare—"

"It's not going to come to that if you don't make us protect you from a distance! You're a thousand times safer here, with us, where we can fight with you instead of just trying to protect you." The shikigami's calm mask slips again, and you get a look at his frustration for a second before he groans and closes his eyes. "Please."

"Running ain't exactly gonna help," D adds from behind you. Even as you twist to face him he's moving, stepping over to sit on the ground next to Hal.

Shit. There's more blood on his face now, his lip bruised and split.

You fucking punched him.

That realization almost makes you curl up onto yourself again. "D, fuck—I didn't—I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry—"

D just looks baffled for a moment, then shakes his head and impatiently wipes at the trickle of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "My fucking fault."

"My line." You don't even know if he's going to understand what you mean by that. I'm supposed to say that. I'm the one that gets hit and deserves it, not you. I'm the only one who oughta be bleeding.

"It was a fuckin' lie when he made you say it, man; this is different."

"Hit you. I hit you."

"Yeah, 'cause I grabbed where I got no fuckin' right grabbing." He sighs and shifts, one hand going to the dark spot on his shoulder for a moment. "Dave—"

"You're bleeding."

"We all are." Hal shakes his head and jerks his shirt up, displaying a long, shallow cut running along his left side, almost parallel to his ribs. "Dirk has one on the other side, along an old scar from a sparring match with Bro. Rose's nose started bleeding; he slapped her for calling him out on something when she was eleven—"

"I remember." You grabbed his hand before he could do it a second time; he ended up apologizing, blaming it on being a little drunk, and then broke two of your fingers once she was gone.

"—your neck's bleeding and from what I can see of your shirt, you're a mess everywhere else as well, worse off than any of us." Hal folds his arms, uncrosses and recrosses them, eyes going blank for a moment as he considers. "It's only injuries that he inflicted that reopened—other than mine; I never met him in person, but this effect could be a carryover from Dirk being my base programming—and only on those of us related to him by blood. Otherwise Jake and Roxy would have the wounds too. Shit...I hate reflective necromancy."

"I have no fucking clue what that is," D says.

"It's stupid. Stupid is what it is. Dave, you need to come inside before the neighbors call the cops on us."

No. "I'm leaving."

"Like fuck you are—"

"Like fuck I'm not, D!"

"Take a fucking second to think, Dave." D grimaces and yanks at the buttons to his shirt, getting it open and gesturing at the newly reopened cuts there. There's not all that many—one thin line along his collarbone, the larger cut on his shoulder that's bleeding through his shirt, a gash just above his navel that was probably awful when it was new and is still messy now—but they're noticeable as hell. "It's not just you he's after."

"He wants me more—"

"Yeah, maybe, but what's running gonna do? I'll tell you what it'll do: split us up. Give him less of a problem. Only thing it does is hurt all of us, man, come on."

You've closed yourself off so you can't feel D's pleading, but you can sure as hell see it, hear it in his voice. He's the only one out of all the Striders who doesn't hide shit, keep emotions behind a mask, so you know that his need to get you back inside and safe isn't just a ploy. He's sincere about wanting you to stay.

But.

"I'm gonna get all of you killed."

D and Hal glance at each other. It's the shikigami who answers.

"No," he says, and he says it firmly and irrefutably, "you're not."

Damn.

When Hal gets to his feet and offers you a hand up, you take it.

Roxy, Rose, Dirk, and John aren't in the kitchen. Jake and Karkat are, though; the former's standing over a map spread out on the counter rather than the table, the pendulum in his hand making unnaturally wide arcs over it.

The demon's standing just behind him, one hand on Jake's shoulder, concentrating just as fiercely on the pendulum as Jake is. When you cautiously drop some of your mental barriers, you can feel the divining magic rolling off both of them, generated by Jake and directed by Karkat.

Fuck, are they looking for Bro?

"I wouldn't know how to fucking start." Karkat's voice is low, not quite a growl, and he doesn't take his eyes off the pendulum. "I met him once, that's not enough to scry for him. This is for someone else, a guy I've tangled with before..."

He pushes an image at you, one that's got the quality of a memory almost forgotten. It's blurred and warped to the point where you can just pick up the impression of someone probably taller than D, a silhouette that becomes a skeleton when the lights shifts, a smile that isn't a smile.

And purple. The whole memory is eerily purple, a color that's a quality of light.

"Dave, wait—" Karkat starts as you try to drag more detail out of the image. That's as far as he gets, though, because the whole damn memory goes bright purple, and you both wince.

There's the small tap of the pendulum hitting the table.

"Got him," Jake announces, letting the pendulum's chain slip through his fingers. The little crystal weight stays right where it is, though, balanced point-down on the map as if he's still holding it steady.

"Great." The demon shakes his head as if to clear it, leaning over to get a better look at the map, then nodding and turning away. "I'll—"

"Karkat—" You grab his arm before he can take one fucking step toward the door, bracing yourself for an angry snarl. "Don't you fuckin' leave me."

He doesn't growl at you. In fact, as soon as you touch him he stops, immediately turning to you and shaking you off his arm just so he can take your hands in his, meeting your eyes. "I'll be right back—"

"Fuck that!" Shit. You're too fucking close to tears, to just breaking down right here in front of D and Hal and Jake, begging him not to go. "I'm coming with you."

"I'm going after another demon."

"So? We've hunted together—"

"This fucker's the kind of demon you leave alone because you can't kill him, Dave."

"And you can?" He's leaving you. Even if he says he's coming back, even if he believes it (and he does, you can feel that he believes he'll be back more-or-less unharmed), Karkat's about to walk out the door and you don't fucking believe he'll come back. Please. I can't, man, I can't handle this shit if you're gone—

"Dave, shh." I won't be gone, he thinks at you, and wraps his arms around you to pull you in close, kissing first your forehead and then your lips, giving you reassurance and love and a promise that for today at least everything will be okay. "Listen to me."

"...I am." You're also holding onto him, probably too tight. No fucking way are you letting go.

"I can take him, alright? I swear—"

"You don't know that—"

"Listen, Dave. I can beat this asshole in a fight. And if I'm wrong about that, if for some reason I can't? He's not one to give anybody a nice, clean death." Karkat pulls away the slightest bit, waiting for you to look him in the eyes. Give me three hours. Hal knows the spells to summon a demon back; even if I fuck this up, I'll still be alive in three hours.

Fuck.

If shit goes wrong, he'll be tortured. You know that without having to ask. You don't fucking want that to happen, you don't even want to think about that happening.

But...

" 'kat."

"Dave."

"Promise me." You'll come back.

He doesn't even hesitate. "I swear." And you can't read any doubt in his eyes.

Karkat kisses you again, very carefully. When he goes to pull away from you, you let him.

As soon as the door shuts, Hal sighs and shakes his head. "Dave?"

" ...yeah." Fuck, you're scared.

"You need to get cleaned up."

"Yeah."

When you still don't move, the shikigami sighs again and puts one hand on your shoulder, steering you out of the kitchen. "Right. Come on."

Fuck, I don't have to be functional until Karkat comes back, you think, and almost just start crying from the relief of the thought as you let Hal lead you into the bathroom.

It's about an hour and a half before you can feel Karkat at all.

In that time, Hal gets your wounds cleaned off and bandaged up. Even though most of them were pretty fucking bad when they were fresh the first time, they're just shallow cuts this time, just deep enough to sting and bleed. Same for everyone else's; the only worrisome one was Rose's nosebleed, and that was only a problem because like you, she has a history of not being able to get that kind of thing to stop.

D coaxes you into eating some of that damn cake, and even if you're mostly just trying not to visibly panic, you're pretty glad that you do that. Somehow sugary shit does make things a little better.

The fact that you end up on the couch, leaning on Dirk on one side and with Rose pressed up against you on the other, and with one of D's stupidest movies playing, also helps. There's a thread of guilt in your mind, that you feel almost okay when Karkat's out handling the dangerous shit, but you can try to think around that.

And you do a pretty good job of it, for about an hour and a half. Then you feelKarkat in your head, a jumble of victory and irritation and anger, and Dirk looks over at you because you just went almost limp with relief next to him for a second. Before he can do more than open his mouth to ask if you're okay, you're off the couch and on your feet, heading for the door to the backyard.

D, John, Dirk, and Roxy are right behind you; the others stay in the house. You're sure there's some tactical reasoning behind that, but you have no idea what it is right now, and you're not planning on asking.

Karkat's standing on the edge of the concrete slab in the backyard, scowling at the permanent binding circle John and Hal set up. He's closed the circle, drawn in the two symbols deliberately left blank when they laid the design down in colored concrete, but the demon inside isn't even testing his boundaries, just standing there calmly with his hands by his sides.

For a second you think that the demon in the circle is manifesting his true form. Then you step up next to Karkat, right at the edge of the circle, and realize that no, he's in his humanish form, but every visible inch of skin's been tattooed, white bones on a black background as if he's under an x-ray.

He tilts his head, brushing back bone-white dreadlocks as he regards you with eyes that'd actually look human if not for their luminescent purple irises, and you bite back a wince as you realize that his lips have been sewn shut.

Greetings, Second of the Two.

This demon's mental voice is far louder than Karkat's ever was—this is a true telepath, not the weirdly abled empath you are. Powerful. Scary.

"Second of two what?" John asks in confusion.

The demon just shrugs, eyes never leaving you. The First seeks you. Or he will.

"We don't want your fucking games, Kurloz," Karkat growls.

My title is Speaker to the Dead.

"I don't give a fuck what you want to be called. I know you're mixed up in this shit; I saw your fucking mind shit in Dave's eyes." For a second, Karkat's form flickers to his demon form, fully manifested. It's a threat. "Where the fuck is the bastard you raised?"

I've raised nothing, Vantas. My talents have been...utilized.

"Same fucking difference. Talk."

Kurloz makes a soft noise, muffled by the stitches. Laughter.

"You know what I fucking mean!"

I do. He nods, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, they're pure glowing violet, fixed on you, holding you in place so there's no way you can look away. And this may surprise you, but I'm amenable to an exchange of information.

And he holds out his hand.

And before Karkat can stop you, you reach through the circle, break the circle, and take it.