#I didn’t talk about knell much I apologize

[unknownarmageddon]

bro bro tell me about sondertale, i want lore, where do they live, where do they come from, are they immortal, kross, what are the boy’s relations to each other, the boys being horror dust killer and cross, gimme so much info please i would like to learn

also which of them is considered a predator the most and what do they do, like do they hide out in the woods, is there some random old man who lets them stay in his house sometimes (cough cough nightmare /silly)

👁👁 holding a notebook to take notes /silly /silly

OKAY so where they live is like. This massive forest right. Like your standard thick horror movie forest everyone tells you not to go into but you do anyway /silly /hj And and!! I’ve got a map for it!! it’s kinda shitty I don’t know how to make maps LMAO also it’s a bit old but it serves its purpose

Where they come from is well like. Nowhere specific. But it was from humanity. Cause they all used to be human. Each of them went through something that like. Corrupted??? Corrupted is NOT the right word but you get my point lmao Their soul y’know. And disfigured them in many meanings of the word into monsters which is what they are now. That’s the gist of it anyway

They are not!! Immortal. They can be killed they’re just built different (/silly) so they’re wildly stronger than like. a standard human. And they have abilities (magic essentially. If you boil it down) that makes them harder to fight and therefore harder to kill y’know. And they know how to fight and they know the area they usually fight in so that also would give them an advantage against just like your average joe

And for their relations it’s. I’m gonna try to explain it without one of those relationships charts

Alpas (Cross) and Tryst (Killer) are romantically involved, and Cadaver (Dust) and Rueing (Horror) are romantically involved. Trust and Whist (Nightmare) USED to be but it was. Not healthy so while technically they still are they’re definitely not close anymore or anything. So it’s complicated. So the whole Kross situation is Tryst running off with Alpas somewhere and he’s so much happier with him than he was with Whist cause. Like it’s infinitely healthier y’know. ANYWAY

Alpas and Whist’s relationship is. Not good. They hate each other. Cause Alpas hates Whist for how he treats Tryst and Whist hates Alpas cause he seems him as in the way. Cadaver and Tryst are fairly close. They’re like hunting buddies y’know that’s what they do. Alpas and Cadaver aren’t close but they aren’t antagonistic either. It’s like a neutral mutual skepticism thing. Cadaver stays in his area and Alpas doesn’t bother him and there’s respect from that. Whist and Cadaver are kinda the same way, so is Whist and Rueing. Rueing and Tryst are closer than Cadaver and Alpas are but they aren’t miraculously close. Tryst mainly just knows him through Cadaver and from staying at his cabin occasionally. But they have their moments they’re fairly friendly,

The one that I personally would consider more of a predator is probably Cadaver. Idk he just. Is. LMAO like compared to the others he’s more. Wild??? With his temperament and behaviors. Like he’s more territorial than the others usually and just is generally more of one y’know. Idk how to describe it baha

And and there isn’t an old guy that lets them stay at his house BAHA but there is Rueing and honestly he’s close enough right /silly /hj (he lets Cadaver stay at his cabin more often than not. And he lets Tryst sometimes and Alpas occasionally.) but he’s also the only that really has an actual house. The others kinda just. Live out in the forest. Alpas has this massive tree he perches in sometimes, and Whist occupies an old abandoned house occasionally, and Knell (Error) has his bridge he stays on. But mostly they don’t have houses y’know. And even Rueing’s is kinda beat up and not in the best quality cause he didn’t fix it up much. But it still works y’know

[syoddeye]

last

gaz-centric, 141 gen. | ~800 words. tags: pure, heavy angst. alcohol. several major character deaths referenced. abuse of italics and parentheses. a/n: so i was thinking about gaz being the last to die. decided to ride the big sad wave into whatever this is.

he gets word that price finally kicked the bucket, upright and boots on. the old man pushed his luck to the cliff’s edge and camped there, years beyond when he should’ve retired.

the news forces him to look back down the long and bloody road to his current gig, desk jockey for laswell. (–analyst, cap. –a pencil pusher.)

it was kate’s hand—the only hand—that reached out after riley decided to run a suicide mission and died a ghost. a task force can’t be two people, she said.

he remembers thinking on the flight to the DMV about whether the american outlaw felt like that, felt the loss when the civilized world, the old west, decided they didn’t want men like them anymore. didn’t want men who took on the world, gloves off.

he books the trip. he returns to a town and landscape barely recognizable to him anymore, but he knows it like the back of his hand. could navigate it with his eyes shut. (he was the best at that, once.) a town where a clock tower looms with the names of his predecessors and his friends etched into its surface. he avoids it. avoids as much of the pomp and circumstance as he can. they–they aren’t his people. not anymore.

he wanted you to have this.

a cigar box. weathered, old. still reeks. in it, memorabilia: a clutch of ID tags with more of those dreaded names, cap’s favorite lighter, and a scrimshaw knife. he doesn’t look at the clip of photos. not right away.

he thanks the soldier tasked with tracking him down, tucks the cigar box into his bag when he returns to his hotel and hops a plane home. his other home, the one he shoehorned himself into at kate’s behest.

it takes the better part of a month to work up the nerve to open the box. to unclip the photos. a torrent of memory held back by a piece of flimsy metal. unleashed and saturating the room.

(they’ll leave a waterline, an impression that decades of life still left to live won’t be able to erase.)

most of them are candids. quick shots someone took, developed, and printed. probably left on the corner of price’s desk.

one of soap, mid-story, something raunchy—he can tell by the man’s smirk. one of riley’s chin, tucked over kyle’s shoulder with soap’s stubbly cheek pressed to his. all drunk and bleary-eyed, fresh off a fucked op. one of price, asleep with his heels kicked up and riley attempting to balance an unlit cigar on the tip of his boots.

a polaroid of nik and price sat in the corner of some bar. both men big and intimidating, faces stern and ringed by smoke. probably chirping like two old hens—the gossips. god, poor nik. they never found him.

an old, pristine copy of the photo of him, price, farah, and alex. all standing tall and proud. triumphant. hurts to look at them for too long. both gone before their time.

(price and laswell didn’t talk for weeks after he reamed her out. —shit intel. makes you wonder. the insinuation was the death knell for the 141 and riley going rogue was the nail in the coffin. after that, cap took his news as a personal affront. hard not to, in hindsight.)

defecting? don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

that insinuation led to months of radio silence between him and price. broken by an insured, over-packaged bottle of single malt that appeared on his desk one day. shit was worth more than his monthly rent.

(never mind he doesn’t even drink whisky. just like price to send a piece of himself in apology instead of picking up the phone.)

the gut punch is soap’s last identification photo. john mactavish. the smiling, joking oaf with his pressed mouth flat in a grim line. eyes wild, probably thinking of something filthy to say to the poor photographer. on the back, his birth and death dates. gone way before his fucking time.

the true catalyst. made them all more reckless. his lieutenant, most of all, grew hungrier and hungrier for the long sleep.

shuffling through the rest makes the ache worse. reopens wounds. grinds against his ribs and tunnels a hole to his gut. it takes a strength he hasn’t used in years to put them away, forced to draw from a well long covered.

he buries the box in the back of a closet and digs out an old bottle. pours an ample amount and chokes it down. goes to bed smelling smoke, praying he doesn’t dream.

he does, of course.

he dreams of chaos and a padlock in piccadilly. of olives and motor oil in urzikstan. of canals and juniper in amsterdam. of the tunnels and blood beneath london. of a bar in chicago. a pub in hereford.

in the morning he wakes. visited upon. heavy.

the last man standing.

[noosayog]

[Reciprocity] you leave Osamu at the altar despite wanting more than anything to say yes

wc: 600

warnings/content: angst to fluff, arranged marriage au

“I can’t do it.” 

You leave Osamu at the altar. It’s painstakingly dramatic, the way you run the wrong way down the aisle, dress hiked up with shaky hands. 

It’s a quiet corner in the cherry tree grove, where the reception after the ceremony was supposed to take place. The whole place was lined in string lights, perfect white lily and baby’s breath arrangements on tables, and candles to bathe the space in a romantic, intimate light. According to the program, you, and the man you are very much in love with, should be having a celebratory toast and dancing the night away with friends and family in this very spot in two and a half hours. But you’re here now, hours ahead of schedule, alone, and sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Hey.” 

It’s the only person capable of making you cry like this. 

He sits down next to you, keeping a respectable 5-feet distance between you two. 

“I thought, when we talked last night, you were still okay with going through with this.” 

I am, you think. I want to be with you so bad but- 

“I thought we agreed that we could be good together even if this was arranged by our parents.” 

And you did think that last night. When it was just the two of you and you weren’t standing at the altar. It was when the two of you were in just your sleepwear, in the privacy of your shared home.

But today, you were in a wedding gown, standing in front of a crowd, staring into the man of your dream’s eyes, and you felt anything but beautiful. 

How can I promise to be yours, knowing that I fully mean it, but you don't? 

“I’m sorry, Osamu. I’m so sorry, but I just can’t.” 

After a long moment of silence, he says, “okay.” 

You don’t know what okay means, but it sounds a lot like “it’s over.” 

“Okay,” he repeats. “I went along with our parents’ wishes because ya were okay with it. I don’t want to do anything ya don’t want to do.” 

What about you? What do you want, you want to ask. The indifference towards his own wedding was heartbreaking. Maybe if he had the right partner, he would care more. 

He stands up and holds his hand out to you. “Let’s go back and call it off.” 

If only you could tell him how badly you didn’t want to take his hand. Taking his hand now would be the death knell to your foolish hopes and dreams of a life with him. How ironic. 

At your hesitance, he retracts his hand and crouches down to come back to your eye level. When your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you intensely. Despite his usual aloof demeanor, Osamu has always been this way: open, with his heart on his sleeve. He’s always been clear that he would only do what you wanted to do. 

“I haven’t been as straightforward as I should’ve been during this entire… process. I should’ve told ya this before we even moved in together, but I’m in love with ya. I love ya. We don’t have to get married now if yer not ready. We don’t have to ever, if ya don’t want to. But on the off chance that ya could love me, I want to be with ya.” 

He holds his hand out, this time, with entirely different meaning. 

You don’t hesitate in throwing your arms around his neck, savoring the deep grunt by your ear when he reels back from the impact, and blubbering your apologies and reasonings for why you couldn’t say yes. It’s all unintelligible to anyone else, but you know Osamu understands because he lifts you up, holding you close to him, whispering a soft “it’s okay,” and kissing your worries away.

[foxzai]

Argue For Love

Note: I’m finally doing this ask that I received a couple of days ago. This is a Dazai angst fic, I hope you enjoy it. I had a lot of fun making this one. The story takes place after you return home from a restaurant and Dazai was flirting with the waitress.

There was loud screaming coming from the house that you shared with your boyfriend, Osamu Dazai. You and Dazai argued a lot about this particular topic but this time you had enough. You continued screaming at Dazai with anger written all over your face. “Why would you continue to flirt with that waitress!? Do I mean nothing to you?!” Dazai was in shock from how you were acting as you have never responded like this before. Dazai didn’t actually like the waitress or any woman he flirted with in front of you, he just loved to make you jealous. Dazai quickly responded to you with a bit of annoyance, “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Of course, you are important to me but can’t I have a little bit of fun?” His words got you even more angry and you started to wonder why he was even with you if he kept flirting with other women. You saw him try to get closer to you but you quickly pushed him away, you knew that he knew if he even touched you it would lower your resolve. “How dare you?! Making it seem like I’m the one with the problem! No girlfriend wants to see their boyfriend flirt with other women!” Dazai looked shocked when you pushed him away and he felt a little hurt and guilty. He started to think maybe he took it too far this time. Dazai tried to resolve the conflict by speaking in a much softer and loving voice, “Bella, my beautiful princess, you know I love you. You’re my perfect belladonna. It was just small flirting.” That lit a fire of anger in your heart, you felt hurt that he thought he could flirt and touch other women was completely justifiable. You slapped him across the face, not too hard but enough to leave a red mark on his face. Tears started running down your cheeks as you stormed out of the house screaming, “I’m Leaving!” Dazai looked at the door stunned that you slapped him. He couldn’t believe you just left and were leaving him. He felt tears run down his face from losing the best thing that ever happened to him. He screamed out loud to himself, “You Idiot! You took it too far! Now she is gone and you lost the only thing worth living for!” After a short while of crying and whining about how he messed up, he hears the door open. Dazai immediately turns to look and sees it’s his Belladonna. He felt the rush of happiness and sadness overcome him. Dazai runs up to you and knells at your feet with tears streaming down his cheeks and he starts begging and apologizing, “I’m sorry Bella. I love you. I really do. You are everything to me. Please don’t leave me. I won’t flirt with another woman ever again. Please, please stay.” You looked down at him with a mix of shock and confusion at him begging and crying. You had in your hand two small boxes of molten lava cake from your and Dazai's favorite bakery. You managed to get some before they closed. You went out there to get a dessert you both liked to calm down from the arguing. You looked down at him confused as you replied, “What are you talking about Osamu? I just went to get our favorite cake from our favorite bakery.” Dazai looked up at you with surprise when you wiped his tears off his face with your free hand. He stood up and looked into your eyes full of hope. “You… You aren’t leaving me?” You laugh softly at the ridiculous mention of leaving him and smile sweetly at him. “God No! I love you too much! But I will take you up on that offer of never flirting with another woman again.” You heard Dazai laugh before he pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving no question that he loved you. When he pulls away, he smiles lovingly at you and exclaims, “Deal! You are the only woman for me, My Sweet Belladonna!” You feel a little dizzy from the sudden kiss he gave but enjoyed it nonetheless and felt quite lucky he is yours. You reach up and leave a quick kiss on his cheek smirking slightly as you suggest, “And you, my love are the only man for me. Now how about we eat this delicious cake that I so graciously got us.”

[severus-snape-apreciation-blog]

Sad Severus and Minerva thoughts. This is my head cannon. So no judgment ( this accidentally kinda turned into a fanfiction) also this is BROTP NOT OTP.

As a student she didn’t like him didn’t understand him.

As a teacher he was so young. It was tough to connect. She thought he would be gone fast. He wasn’t.

They bonded over essays and dry humour. Of bets placed on house cup and games. And within a few years they were close to each other.

The staff was almost family and most welcomed him. He tried his best and she started to understand.

Guilt would set in for her never seeing his pain as a student. Wishing she protected him. She only tried to bring it up once. He scoffed and called it the past.

Over the years they would chat and bet and bond over brandy and scotch. Gossip about the students and complain about the Weasley twins.

Talk about impressive students like Percy Weasley and his older brothers. Whoever won house cup between them would be gifted a bottle of their drink of choice.

One summer spent at a learning conference in America where he was presenting a potion he made that would change the world. She never felt more proud of anyone.

When the stunners set her in the hospital. The only Colour in the room was his dark blue cloths. Black cloak thrown across the back of his chair. Even though she was in pain she smiled. Knowing he was by her side.

( I head cannon the staff knew he killed Dumbledore at the start of year)

It broke her heart when she heard what he did. All their hearts but hers especially. She knew something was up the year before but never knew what. She blamed herself. Wondering if there was a way to stop him from Killing Albus

The staff turned on him. He had to watch his back everywhere and be careful of his food for spells and curses. Randomly tripping in halls. Food spiked. Even when he attended dinners in the hall they were tense. No body would speak a word to him.

He died how he came into the world. Unloved and unwanted.

He wasn’t sad or upset. Some part of him knew how to save himself. Part of him didn’t want to. He was tired. Oh so tired. When he opened his eyes after death it was to Albus’s sad face, and apologies falling from his mouth.

She would stay mad at him till Potter told her. She would feel her heart stop. Metaphorically of course. The other staff all shocked. When Potter was done she asked where his body was.

She doesn’t remember the last time she ran so fast.

She was scared and anxious and hoped that when she entered the room he would be okay. That she could apologize and scold him for not telling her.

He was exactly as Potter left him. Cold and gone. But peaceful. It’s been so long since she saw him peaceful.

She couldn’t breath.

She found herself knelling next to him, brushing his hair out of his face. Next thing she knew she was clutching him to her. It took her a second to realize what she was hearing was her crying.

She couldn’t stop.

She didn’t till Flitwick pulled her away from him. Pomfrey checking him over and declaring him as passed.

They brought him back to the castle. She managed to compose herself till out of site in the headmasters office. She doesn’t remember what she screamed at Albus’s portrait. Barely registered that the portrait was crying. Albus had hoped Severus would live. To be happy. To finally be free of the war.

He was buried in her family’s plot. That’s what he was to her. Family. She wished she told him how she felt. That he was family to her. That if he was her son she would be so proud. That she cared. They all cared.

The day of the funeral was sunny. The opposite of how most would describe him. Most didnt know him. The majority of the remaining staff and a horde of students led by Potter attended the funeral. Nobody really spoke though if they chose to they would have so much to say.

She was the last to leave.

It’s a terrible day for rain.

This was supposed to be a small thing just some head cannons and I think it sorta evolved into a fanfic. Might post on AO3

Edit

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Inukag *warning this chapter might hurt*

Staring out through the windshield of his car, his darkened home was the picture-perfect mirror of the pain settling into his soul. Inuyasha had no idea how he’d even managed to make it home without driving off a cliff or plowing himself into a stone wall, because his body and mind were completely numb.

‘Read’ but not answered…

Was it a good sign that the woman at least looked at it? Inuyasha rested his head against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. He’d fucked up… again— just like the night of the accident. His eyes squeezed tighter shut as the emotional pain of everything slammed him with the force of a freight train. This was bad… bad, bad, bad… “FUCK!!” He roared into the still night air. With Kagome’s memories coming back, she’ll remember everything, and it was over. He’d had this second chance to reverse all the damage and he went and fucked it up again.

Not surprisingly, Kagome didn’t respond to his first text, so he typed out a final message for the night: ‘You’re mad at me. I get that so I’ll give you some space but I just wanna say good night Kagome. I love you -Inu’

‘Read’ but not answered…

It was all he could do for now, his only solace knowing Kagome had her mother to comfort her. Inuyasha sighed, long and deep as he pulled the keys from the ignition and dragged himself into his home. His body felt heavy with exhaustion. A weight crushing him down like a boulder. It took all he had to just drop his keys to the floor beside the entrance and shuffle into the bedroom instead of falling right then and there. He didn’t want to move anymore. He deserved the silent darkness of this tomb-like home along with its judgmental echoes of the life it once held.

The next morning after a restless sleep, Inuyasha called out of work. When would he be back, he couldn’t answer them? Part of him didn’t care anymore. Fire him, it wouldn’t matter to the walking dead. Miroku called in concern for his friend, but Inuyasha let it go to voicemail. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now, not when he knew it would have a ring of ‘I told you so,’ mixed in. That wasn’t necessary. Didn’t he feel bad enough?

A good morning text sent… left on Read…

An apology text….

Another apology text…

Voice messages left randomly through the day…

All left on Read and unanswered.

The anxiety filled hours ticked on with Inuyasha left curled up in a ball under his blanket. He’d done a number on his living room to physically release the anger he felt at himself, and now he was just dead to the world. All the drapes were tightly closed to the sunlight outside and he only left his bed to attend to bathroom matters. He didn’t wanna give up all hope, but with his mind in tatters and thoughts only of despair, there was nothing left to cling to.

By nightfall Inuyasha was convinced Kagome had truly given him up and he couldn’t blame her for it. This was all his fault. Him and his stupid big mouth. There was no denying it. He shouldn’t have argued with her. Just like before, instead of using his ears to listen, he responded with ego when he had no right to chastise her over not telling him something. The whole reason he was in this mess is because he never listened to her when it mattered the most— and there in lay the heart of it all. Neither of them had the opportunity to talk about what caused the original fight or process what drove Kagome to leave. Inuyasha thought he’d understood its origins and accepted responsibility for it, but clearly, he was wrong, and this new situation is most certainly what would have taken place if Kagome hadn’t crashed her car— a debilitating depression.

If Kagome didn’t want him anymore, then there wasn’t anything left for him in this world as far as Inuyasha was concerned. His yoki called out for her, wept for her loss, and with it all the energy in his soul to care slipped away. He was simply empty without her. No appetite or desire or thirst, just an ocean of dread, and waves of numbness dulling all his senses.

How much time had elapsed, how many days gone by? The clock ticked away hour by hour like a death knell with Inuyasha simply waiting for a release to come. All the messages left on his phone were from everyone other than the one person who could have brought him out of this funk. But her ringtone never came. It is what is it. Was it day four? Five? Six? Inuyasha couldn’t tell, but feeling his body starting to let go, he decided to send one last message to Miroku before shutting off the phone for good.

At the Hoshii residence, Miroku and Sango were on edge dealing with the crisis. Sango had been doing her best to help Kagome to cope with her pain, but Miroku was growing frantic over Inuyasha’s refusal to answer him. He’d driven by the man’s home and knew the car was there, and that was it. No one answered the door and with all the curtains closed he couldn’t see inside. Finally, on day five while they were visiting with Kagome, Miroku heard his phone ping with a message.

Inuyasha: thanks for being a good friend. Tell her she was the only one I’ve ever loved

“What the hell?” Miroku blurted out as he mulled the message over and over in his head.

Sango rushed over at the concern in her husband’s voice. “What is it?!”

“I think that idiot is planning to kill himself— I better… I better go.”

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Higurashi also came out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about a message Inuyasha just sent,” Sango explained as her husband was digging around in his small pouch and grabbing his car keys. “Miroku is gonna check on him.”

“What did it say?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

So, Miroku showed the woman his phone. “It doesn’t sound good.”

“Oh, dear!” She reached for a jacket near the front door. “I’m coming too! Sango will you stay?”

“Of course, I’ll be here with Kagome. You two go.”

It was a good thing that Miroku had held onto a spare key to Inuyasha’s home that he’d been given and simply forgotten to return. When he and Mrs. Higurashi walked through the door, chills crawled over his skin. It was evident that the house had been closed-up for several days, no windows opened, or ventilation, just a silent graveyard feeling with a fog of musty air mixed with the scent of rotting kitchen garbage and body odor. It was revolting and only heightened the pairs concern for the occupant.

“Inuyasha?!” Miroku yelled as they made their way through the dark home but received no response. The man wasn’t in the living areas or bathroom, so the logical option was the master bedroom at the far end of the hallway. ‘Please be alive,’ he prayed.

Once inside the room, they could see an unmoving body underneath the blankets and if the buildup of body odor told a story, it was sure to be his friend underneath those covers. “Inu?” Still no response.

Mrs. Higurashi turned on the bedroom light, and the brightness finally caused the blanket to shift ever so slightly. “Oh, thank heavens,” she gasped out in relief as she held a hand to her chest. He was still alive.

Miroku rushed over and yanked the blanket off. “Inuyasha!” Tears instantly gathered in the panicked man’s eyes. The state of his friend was heart breaking. Inuyasha had lost weight. His skin was gaunt and pasty white, hair matted and dirty. “Oh, fuck, we— we should call emergency!”

“No…” Inuyasha croaked out and buried his face deeper under his arm. “Let me die.”

“Fuck no, you idiot! Kagome still needs you!”

“Better… off… without me…”

‘Seriously?!’ It was rare for Miroku to get so upset, but in that moment, the anger that bubbled up to surface took over and his arm flew up ready to strike his friend. “You stupid—!!”

“Don’t!” Mrs. Higurashi yelled at Miroku. “He needs help, not anger right now.”

That seemed to snap Miroku out of his emotions, but the tears broke free. It was hard to see his friend in this position, just so frail— nothing like the tough hanyo that he’s known for years. Even after the death of his mother, Inuyasha didn’t break down this badly. Miroku grit his teeth to his own pain and pushed forward. “You idiot. Dying isn’t gonna help Kagome. So, whether you like it or not, we’re gonna help you.”

Mrs. Higurashi now moved around the bed to where she could sit beside Inuyasha. Her own eyes were clouded too, but the woman pulled on all the strength she could muster to hold it together. She placed a hand on the arm he was using to cover his face. “Inu, Miroku is right. Kagome is hurting just as much as you, and I don’t think you’d want to cause her anymore heart ache by going out this way.”

“But she hates me…” Inuyasha whimpered weakly. “Please just let me go.”

Mrs. Higurashi had to squeeze her eyes shut to hold back her tears. Her heart broke for the man. Gently, she pulled his arm down, her voice shaking as she spoke. “Inuyasha, you’re like a son to me, and I won’t let me son die. We’re gonna figure this out, but you need to live please, for her, for all of us that cares about you.”

Inuyasha’s eyes cracked open just a tad. “I’m so, sorry,” he mumbled. “So… sorry…”

She kept her voice as soothing as possible. “I know, and so does Kagome.” Mrs. Higurashi then turned to Miroku. “Do you think you can get him into the shower and clean him up? I’ll make something for him to eat. He needs something in his stomach immediately.”

“Y-Yeah, I think I can do it.”

It took both of them to help Inuyasha into the bathtub. He was so emaciated and dehydrated, that he had no strength left in his body, just dead weight. While Mrs. Higurashi left them to deal with the kitchen, Miroku stripped his friend of clothing and ran a bath to bathe him. Inuyasha offered no resistance, just a few tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Inuyasha kept repeating.

“Don’t apologize to me. Save it for Kagome. I can’t believe you’d think we’d be okay with you dying! You’re my best fucking friend you asshole! I want my kids to grow up with their uncle!”

“But I keep screwing up.”

“And that’s life. It ain’t the end of the world yet.”

“Feels like it.”

“Whether you believe us if not, Kagome is hurting cause she in love with your stupid ass too. You can still fix this.”

“Don’t know how.”

“And that’s why we’re here.”

“Thank you…”

Inuyasha’s eyes started to roll back, so Miroku slapped him hard in the face. “Oi! Don’t you be dying on me now! So, wake the fuck up!”

“So… tired…”

“Gonna clean you up and momma Higurashi will get your strength back, so hang on just a little longer…”

Now cleaned up and dressed in something comfortable, they prop Inuyasha up in a recliner since he was still struggling to hold up his own body weight. He simply had no reserves left to draw from and under human standards wouldn’t have lasted this long. A hospital was better equipped to deal with this kind of situation. Inuyasha should have been put on IV fluids to hydrate him faster along with special supplements pumped directly into his system because after this long, the organs would have started to shut down, and his stomach would struggle to process anything. But Mrs. Higurashi made due to honor his request, starting with a bland rice water chicken broth of starch, proteins, and vegetable nutrients to re-prime it slowly. She also sent Miroku to the store to purchase drinks with electrolytes given to infants when they are dehydrated. It was a painstaking process to feed Inuyasha spoonful by spoonful.

“I need you to help me fight Inuyasha,” the woman coaxed the weakened hanyo. “So, you can live through this and see Kagome again.”

Tears flooded Inuyasha’s eyes at the mention of Kagome’s name. “After everything, why would you still want me around her?”

“Because you love her, and she loves you, and as long as there’s love it can find a way. Son,” she placed a hand on his, “I know it feels like the end of the world, but it will get better if you want it to. Do you want it to?”

“Yes,” he sobbed.

Her hand now gripped his tightly as her expression grew determined. “Then fight for it!”

It took several bowls of soup before gradually Mrs. Higurashi started giving Inuyasha fish and small pieces of chicken meat to eat. She had to stick to easily digestible foods, but at least his coloring was improving, and he could feed himself now. The sun has already set, by the time Inuyasha could finally stand up on his own.

“You’re lucky you’re a hanyo. That’s what’s probably saved your life.” Miroku expressed to his friend.

“I know.” Inuyasha could feel his demon half working harder to regenerate his physical body. Though while his body was recovering, his heart still felt broken. They kept telling him that Kagome still loved him so there is hope, but a part of him struggled to believe it. He’d already hit such a low point, to suffer rejection now was almost too unbearable to even comprehend.

Miroku continued talking. “Inuyasha, you’re not gonna do this alone. We will be there to support both of you, but it’s time you confront this. You and Kagome need to talk… about everything— even though she may not remember, a lack of communication is exactly what triggered this whole situation.”

“I know…” Inuyasha sighed.

“All couples go through struggles,” Mrs. Higurashi added with a comforting tone in her voice. “A strong relationship doesn’t come from a having a perfect one, Inuyasha. It’s developed through adversity. How well a couple can take the challenges thrown at them and grow from it.”

“You remember what happened with me and Sango, we almost didn’t make it because of my bad behaviors…”

“Your damn womanizing,” Inuyasha cut in.

“Yeah, that,” Miroku grumpily agreed. “She had to give me a harsh ultimatum to wake me up. But I did, and now look at us. This is your harsh moment, and you can choose to wake up, or loose the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s your choice.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Inuyasha ran a hand down his face. “Of course, I don’t wanna lose her.”

“Then are you ready to see Kagome?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

Inuyasha exhaled slowly. “Ready? No…” he was terrified to face the woman. “But I’ve gotta do it.”

[captainhotch]

I’m Sorry | Aaron Hotchner

aaron hotchner x reader

prompt: “I have a boyfriend” + “I know, I’m saying you could have a husband.”

a/n; find the captain america quote :) also the prompt is from grey’s anatomy if you aren’t familiar

You smiled over at Thomas, fingers dancing over the keyboard as you finished filling out your last report from the case. It was a tough one with a happy ending— a few kids were reunited with their parents.

Luckily it was only a couple of hours away, making for a quick flight home where your boyfriend was waiting for you with Chinese takeout and a movie.

It was a newer relationship— he was the detective of a precinct just out of your district. He was a nice guy, simple and easy which you weren’t exactly used to.

You had just gotten out of an almost-relationship with your unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. He had ended things before they could get serious, in his words. Because for you they had gotten serious the moment you kissed.

And now here you were with a dull guy who wanted to work a 9-5 and live in a house with a white picket fence. He may have been your dream guy a couple of years ago... but now he felt like someone that you had nothing in common with. And you felt awful about it.

Thomas was a nice guy. One who deserved a wife and a dog—not an FBI agent who works more than she’s at home.. and oh, is in love with her boss. You looked over at Thomas, his eyes glued to the television—watching some old movie that you had never even heard of.

You closed the laptop, running a hand down your face. How had you gotten to this point?

You looked up when the tv paused, not realizing that you had zoned out completely.

“Is everything okay?” Thomas questioned.

You looked over at him and the genuine concern painted across his face. He didn’t deserve this— Thomas was nothing if not a good man.

“I don’t,” you began, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “—not really, no.”

He smiled softly, standing up from his spot on the couch and knelling down in front of you. Thomas took your hands in his, “I think I know what this is about.”

You willed down the tears that threatned to spill over, squeezing his hands. “You do?”

“I do. You’re not happy, I can see it. I can also see how bad you wanna be,” Thomas smiled softly, cradling your face in his hand, “and i want so badly to be the person who does that for you. But I’m not.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears falling down your face, “you deserve someone who can love you with their full heart.”

“So do you,” Thomas replied, kissing the back of your palm, “you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met— and if he can’t see that then he sure as hell doesn’t deserve your heart.”

Tears continued to slip out as you pulled Thomas in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. “I’m so so sorry.”

A few hours and you were still wide awake, trying to pay attention to the episode of Grey’s Anatomy that you had missed while on the case. Thomas had gone home after you profusely apologized for the mascara tracks on his hoodie.

Your eyes widened at the sound of knocking at your door. At three in the morning. You had been through enough cases to know where this was going. You quickly grabbed your gun from the side table, turning the television off and making your way to the front door.

Slowly your crept up, peaking your eyes through the peep hole— nearly pissing yourself when the person knocked again. You couldn’t help but to furrow your brows when you saw who stood on the other side. Aaron?

You opened the door with a frown, one arm crossed over your chest. “What the hell is going on? It’s 2 in the morning?”

“I don’t,” he paused, running a hand across his face, “—I mean I was in the neighborhood.”

You rolled your eyes, moving away from the door, “Goodnight Agent Hotchner.”

“Wait,” he sighed, grabbing your wrist, “I came to apologize. I was wrong.”

“Whatever Hotch, it’s fine. Goodnight.”

“Please, just let me say something, then you can slam the door in my face and go back to bed.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the doorframe as you waited for him to speak. This was the last thing that you needed tonight.

“I owe you an apology.” He began, fiddling with his tie, “when you work in a job like ours, you never know what’s going to happen next. And as the leading authority of waiting too long— I don’t want to do it anymore. I’ve lost too many people I love without telling them. So here I am. Telling you.”

Your eyes watered as you looked up at him— and damn were you tired of crying. “What are you saying Aaron?”

He moved in closed, cradling your face in his much larger palm. “I’m saying that I love you and that I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you smiled, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I know,” he paused, “I’m saying that you could have a husband.”

You pulled back, hand on his arm as you stare in shock. “What?”

“I love you and I’m done pretending that I don’t because I’m scared. I’ll talk to Stauss or whatever I need to do. Just tell me that you love me too— or tell me to leave.”

You closed your eyes, allowing him to pull you in closer. You brought Aaron in by his face, slanting your lips over his gently. “I broke up with Thomas earlier tonight. I could never love him. Not when I love you.”

“God I love you, so so much,” he grinned, pulling you into another kiss.

[chaoticpete]

Meant to Be

CEO! Tom Holland x Mom!Reader

Christmas Story

Summary: What if you found yourself in a slight pickle close to the holidays, but you’re offered the deal of a lifetime from your boss? All he needs is to borrow the love of you and your daughter to impress his boss. What can go wrong?

Based on “Barrowed Hearts”

*Part 2*

“L/N! You have a call.” you hear your supervisor say pulling you from the station. Glancing over at Tiff you go a pick up the closes phone to you. “This is Y/n.” “Yes, I’m her mother.” You listen to the woman on the other side of the line. “She did what?!” “Okay okay ill be there right away,” you say right before hanging up.

“Is everything okay?” Tiff asks as you walk back to gather your things. “Yeah, it was just Sophie’s school. I’ll explain when I come back,” you say shaking your head. You could swear your daughter is gonna be the death of you.

Meanwhile, at school Sophie sits outside the office waiting for her mom to pick her up. Her hamster looking up at her through his pink ball. “How did you get out of your ball anyway?” she asks the hamster out loud.

“Sophia Violet L/n.”

Sophie’s eyes widen when she hears your stern voice, plus her full name. She knew she messed up big time.

“I am going to go talk to your teacher and then you’re going to apologize and then I’m dropping you off at Mrs. Garcia. Understand?” Not looking up she nods sadly, getting up to follow you down to her classroom.

Silence took over the car ride home.

You glance over, seeing the little girl still pouting, hamster ball still in hand. “Sophie, why didn’t you listen when I told you couldn’t bring Pebbles to class?” “I wanted to show him to my class.” “I know sweetie, but he could’ve gotten really hurt. Someone could’ve stepped on him.”

“Also why would you tell your principal that your father was on a top government mission? You need to stop making up these stories.” “...I miss daddy.” “Well I’m sorry babes but he’s not around now has he?”

Before you can realize the words that left your mouth, Sophie was out of the car and climbing a huge tree that’s located in front of your house. Running after her, “Sophie I don’t have time for this!” before you know it Mrs. Garcia walks out of her house looking up at the tree. “Sophia L/n get down from up this instant.” Turning back to you, you watch as Sophia climbs down making sure she reaches the ground safely.

“You can head back to work deary, ill see you when you pick her up.” “Thank you so much, Mrs. G.” you walk up to Sophie and knell down in front of her. “I’m sorry mummy.” “I know bug. How about this, if you behave for Mrs. Garcia today and tomorrow. We can go see the Christmas decorations on the mansions okay?” “...pinkie promise?” “Pinky promise.” You reply linking your pinky to her much smaller one. “Love you.” “Love you beyond.”

When you get back to work you explain to Tiff what happened. “Wait how the hamster get out the bag and out of her bag?” “I don’t even wanna question it, T.” “Uh oh speaking of T. There goes the boss man.” You glance over to where Tiff was looking to see your boss, Tom Holland walking with his assistant. “The things I would do to get me a man like him. I would be in jail.” Tiff said shaking her head. Laughing you look back over at him.

You would admit he was very attractive, looks, and aura wise. But you knew never in a million years it would happen.

After being dropped off at Mrs. Garcia for a few hours, Sophie began to become bored. “Mrs. Garcia?” She asked, her big brown eyes watching around the room in wonder. “Yes dear?” “Why do you have so many angels? And don’t you get scared with all of these eyes watching you?” Letting out a laugh the older woman sits down with a cup of tea. “I don’t feel scared cause I know they’re all around to protect us, not harm us.” “How do you know when there’s one around?” “You hear music, the music you can’t exactly explain where it’s coming from.” “Oh.”

Tom walks through the door handing his briefcase to Charles. “Thank you, Charles. Honey I’m home!” Tom says walking into the lounge room. He lends down giving the blonde woman a kiss on the cheek who’s too busy texting away on her phone. “What’s for dinner?” “I don’t know that’s the cook’s job.” Before Tom can answer a little boy runs towards him. “Daddy I want a new bike for Christmas.”

“CUT!” Harrison says walking up to the family. “This is all wrong. Heather, you’re supposed to be a wife. You know what you’re having for dinner and not just there on your phone. And you,” he said pointing to the kid. “You sound like a spoiled brat.” “I’m playing a rich guy son what you expect.”

“Haz can I talk to you right quick please?” Tom says gesturing towards a corner. “This is bloody stupid mate. I can’t even buy this as my family.” “Don’t worry mate well figure it out.”

Meanwhile, you and Sophie are driving through a rich neighborhood. “Oh Soph, isn’t all of the decorations just beautiful.” You ask looking through amazement. “Yeah.” Sophie replays looking at the lights. Till one house, in particular, catches her attention. “MUMMY STOP THE CAR!”

You quickly slam on the breaks. “Sophie what’s wrong?!” you asked your daughter but she was already out of the car running into a house. “SOPHIE!” you say running after her.”

“And what do you expect Haz?! The perfect wife and kid walk through that door.” Tom says pointing at the door. Right then a curly-haired little girl runs through the door stopping to look around in amazement. Both men watch in disbelief as she beings the walk around the house, catching the attention of everyone else.

“Sophie! Soph, you can’t just walk into a stranger’s hou- Oh hi!” Tom and Haz both look back at the door to see a woman standing there. She lets out a nervous laugh slipping off her shoes before walking further into the house to grab her daughter. “Sophie, you can’t just walk into people’s houses like you own it!” You say getting your knees. “But mommy! Were meant to be here! This is my doll house!” “No honey someone else lives here and now we have to leave.”

Tom snaps out of his shock. “Wait! Where do I know you from?” Looking up at man you get up placing Sophie in front of you while slipping on your shoes.” “So sorry Mr. Holland. My daughter is still trying to learn boundaries.” “That wasn’t my question.” “I- I work for you, sir.”

“Tom...can I talk to you?” Harrison asks pulling tom away. “What?” “They’re it!” “They’re it?! But...she works for me. And they don’t exactly look like they have money.” “Who cares?! It’s only for three days. Not like you actually have to marry or sleep with her. The kid already looks like you a bit. She has your eyes and hair color. I mean,” Both men walk closer to you and you raise an eyebrow in concern. “That’s a wife! And this is a kid you don’t wanna drown!” he says gesturing to Sophie who gives him a nervous smile.

“I’m sorry but what are you guys talking about?” Harrison turns to you. “We need you guys to be Tom’s family.” “What?” you ask in disbelief. “I know it’s strange.” “Beyond. Let me guess your mom is visiting?” “No no. A very important businessman is flying in, and he’s staying here and wants to meet Tom’s family.” “And you want me and my daughter to be that family?” “Yes, and we’ll pay you a thousand pounds for three days.” “You’re kidding. Tell me he’s kidding,” you say glancing at Tom. “Trust me I wish he was.” “I’m sorry but this is too crazy even for me.”

“Two thousand. But that’s my final offer.” “Nope. Sorry, but I and my daughter are not for sale. Sophie lets go.” “Three thousand,” Tom says stepping forward. You stop in your tracks. That’ll be enough money to move. Slowly turning back around. “Three thousand?” Both men nod their heads towards you. “For three days and all I have to do is pretend to be your wife and your her dad?” Both men nod again.

Letting out a sigh, “Excuse me I have to make sure this is okay with my daughter.” You say walking to Sophie who was watching the whole thing. “Sophie, ba-” “Mummy what are you doing?! Take it!” You watch her in shock with how quickly she responded. “Oh, uh okay then.” Walking back to the men you reach out your hand.

“Looks like we’re doing business together, Mr. Holland.” Tom bites the inside of his lip before shaking your hand. “Looks like we are.”

Tags:: @tommyunderoos @sovereignparker @allegra-writes @hey-its-grey @gwenvrse @marvel4geeks @kitkatd7 @spidey-boy-89 @buckys-other-punk @peterismymans @dreamofaprilsblog @parkerpeter24 @peeterparkr @fancyxparker @starlight-starks @chloe-geoghegan1 @peachyafshawn @mariana-costa @runawayolives @rebekkah4766

[agentjx7]

SO I wrote this massive post in the BCB discord explaining why I still like Paulo/Lucy, and at some urging I’ve edited it for tumblr!

Now, I could start off with a lot of talking about Paulo and Lucy’s personalities and why I think they’d mesh well together, but you’ve probably read the comic. You know the characters. I don’t think the argument “they don’t have chemistry” is even on the table. Instead, I feel like most people’s arguments about the ship are either “there are healthier/better ships for both of them” or “the Ferris Wheel scene and chapter 100 sink it.” So let’s talk about these arguments.

I am not going to be able to convince anyone who thinks that their ship is “better” than paulucy to switch sides, so let’s talk about healthier for a second. Paulo’s relationship with Daisy as it stands at the moment would doubtless get mired down by Daisy’s jealousy of Lucy. I’m not saying it couldn’t be good in the future, and both of them are developing in the directions that would make that easier, but at the moment I don’t think it’d be good. And as for Lucy? The number of healthy ships for Lucy is vanishingly small. I think it’s possible that her relationship with Paulo, if it started in the next chapter, would be healthy, but I also think they both need a little more work— and I think that they’re more likely to develop in positive ways together than apart!

Now, as for their recent arguments. I do not think Lucy is telling the truth during After You on the Ferris Wheel— at least, not the whole truth. She doesn’t feel like she can do a relationship at the moment, and she’s tired of watching Paulo (who she cares about deeply) hurt himself by waiting for her. This is compounded by the things she’s internalized from December and after: she feels like all she CAN do is hurt Paulo more, and that even if she starts dating him he’s only going to be doing it because he likes her appearance. Paulo might have proved MULTIPLE times that this isn’t the case, but she’s dealing with quite a bit right now and it’s very hard for her to see the positives in any of her relationships— Augustus excluded.

During the Ferris wheel ride she never actually can bring herself to tell Paulo outright that she doesn’t love him and that she’s incapable of loving him in the future. She does say that she’s sorry they couldn’t have been more in the past, but that’s because of her crush on Mike, a crush she’s slowly getting over. When he flat out asks her if there’s no way for her to love him she gives a non-answer and then changes the subject to the time they slept together, which she argues she only did because she thought she’d never see him again. I think this is true (and it was kind of a shitty thing to do), but Lucy isn’t giving herself enough credit OR Paulo enough agency here. Her goal during this whole conversation is to convince Paulo to move on from her, so she says a LOT of stuff that’s fairly hurtful. From her own admission, though, the reason she’s saying it all is because she thinks Paulo should move on, and that she’s not worth waiting for. That’s not her call to make. Unfortunately, as we see from their next conversation, all she really accomplished was ruining Paulo’s evening.

So now the big one, High Expectations. Paulo absolutely BLOWS UP at Lucy here, and a lot of people signaled it as the death knell for the ship. It definitely wasn’t our finest hour, but I maintain that there’s a couple little things in the scene that show that it’s still got stuff going for it. FIRST of all, Paulo flat-out says he loves Lucy. This one should’ve put the nail in the coffin of “ah Paulo doesn’t care about her because of the fair” argument, but on the NEXT page we get to the big one. Lucy says she didn’t come back for any of them, and Paulo asks the armor-piercing question: “Then why the fuck did you come back?”

This scene, this panel, is the FIRST time since Love Again that we see Lucy taken off guard by one of the members of the gang. It’s the only time her “I’m a cold hearted bitch now and I hate all of you” act really drops before she has her conversation with Sue a couple chapters later (It’s All in the Mind).

Paulo is the first person to REALLY get under her skin after she returns, and it’s pretty clear the things he says in this chapter stick with her. I could talk more about that, but for now let’s talk about Paulo and why he doesn’t mean the shit he says right here about how he’s Done With Lucy for real this time™️. First of all, Paulo is right up there with Mike and Lucy in terms of emotional outbursts— the main difference is that when he attacks people he just straight-up physically attacks them instead of tearing them down emotionally, and that it’s a coin flip whether he’s going to get angry with someone else or burst into emotional tears and start hating himself (because he’s one of the most empathetic emotional characters in the comic but I digress). He’s just seen Lucy, who’s keeping up the “I actually hate ALL of you now” act, with AUGUSTUS, who to his knowledge is the guy who tried to molest Daisy and nothing else. Robbed of the context of the situation, he feels like Lucy really hates them all so much that she’d rather hang out with the creep than them— than HIM— and that shit hurts. Why? Because he absolutely still loves her.

Paulo has also had an EXTREMELY rough day. One of his best friends just slammed his face into a lunch table. He’s still on rough terms with Abbey, even if Daisy’s party has assuaged some of these fears. He’s ALREADY ready to fall apart, and then THIS hits him like a train. It HURTS, so he lashes out and storms off.

Lucy realizes that she’s hurt him, bad, and that hurts her— but we don’t get to see that because Paulo and Mike are the focus of the chapter so we’re MOVING ON now, I’ll explain in a minute.

SO! During All in the Mind Lucy has another confrontation with her friends, leading to her blow-up with Daisy. BUT CRUCIALLY she’s on good terms with Sue again, and she starts to realize that she can’t keep hurting her old friends like this. This leads directly into her behavior in Witch Hunt, which is the next time we see the two of them interact. All she does is apologize to Paulo for potentially hurting him again with the dress— but this is a bigger moment than it might seem. In the earlier chapters after her return, Lucy would’ve pretended not to care that her actions could have hurt Paulo, but this time things are different! This is her reaching the olive branch out to him, as well as her genuine fear that she’s just hurt him again. Paulo assures her it’s no big deal, and then resumes casually flirting with her (in a friendly way!), something that she laughs with and clearly enjoys. When Daisy interrupts them they BOTH start blushing.

SINCE THAT POINT, the only chapter to feature the two of them significantly interacting is Unwanted Gift. Paulo happily takes part in the celebrations of Lucy’s birthday, which he DEFINITELY would not have done if he was still in the same mindset from High Expectations. Now, I can’t claim to know what’s going to happen after the most recent emotional missile salvo of a chapter, but I truly do believe the two of them are in a much better place than when Lucy first returned.

NOW, what evidence do I have that they really do still love each other? Admittedly, some of it is just my own gut feeling about the characters. Lucy leaving for the better part of a year didn’t put a damper on Paulo’s feelings. Being told “stop caring about me before you get hurt,” ESPECIALLY since Lucy can’t (or won’t) say “I don’t love you,” is not going to stop him.

As for Lucy? Well, there’s the inherent fact that Lucy didn’t just come out and say she didn’t like him and he had no chance. Lucy is often brutally honest, and she still chose to dodge the question when he asked. But Lucy still can’t bring herself to say she does love him, so if she’s so brutally honest, she must not, right? Well, no! One of Lucy’s major character flaws is that she can’t be fully honest with people, even when it would benefit them both. Admitting her true feelings is a specific area where that’s a problem— Lucy confessed she loves someone once before, and look how THAT went. Also on the BCB ship chart she’s still listed as having a crush on him and the chart came out in *checks notes* after Lucy came back so I’m hanging onto that for dear life

So, there you have it! My overdrawn explanation of why paulucy good, actually. Thank you so much for reading if you got this far! God I really love this comic waaay too much.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Whats your biggest romantic relationship advice?

COMMUNICATE.

I know that’s the most trite offhand answer in the world and everyone is sick to tears of hearing it, but it’s absolutely the truth.  The willingness to talk honestly about your own thoughts and feelings, and the ability to listen calmly while someone else does the same, even if you don’t necessarily like what you’re hearing, is The Thing that makes relationships functional.  Sometimes you will have to admit to stuff you don’t like.  Sometimes you will be told stuff you don’t like.  Still important.

The core rules I would recommend for communicating effectively (in any relationship, but especially a romantic one) are:

Be Kind

Sometimes communicating is scary.  If your partner snaps “Don’t do that” and seems upset, consider other options besides that they’re just angry with you.  Personally I hate being touched when I’m upset.  The first time my girlfriend tried to hug me while I was crying I almost ran out of the room.  I wasn’t mad at her, I just didn’t have the ability to articulate “I really need to not be touched right now” until I was less upset.  If someone reacts poorly, you can call them on it later when they’re able to discuss it, but if they’re laying out a boundary, that is not the time for you to argue with them.  Offer your loved ones the benefit of the doubt, on those occasions where they don’t handle things with perfect skill.

Don’t Be A Jerk

This means “take a second to cool off if you need it.”  This means “think about your words before you say them.”  This means “take the time you need to be able to articulate a real thought, not just a negative feeling.”  If you know you are so upset you’re just going to start shouting, it’s your job as an adult to say that you need a minute and then take a minute.  I recommend establishing the option to do this while everyone is feeling okay, but even if you cut yourself off mid-sentence and say “I need to calm down before I can say what I mean,” that’s still better than being thoughtless and damaging the relationship.

Say Your Piece, Then Shut Up

Did you say your thing?  Did you voice your frustration or lay down your boundary or whatever?  Great.  Be quiet and let the other person answer you.  In as much depth or detail as they want.  Obviously there are exceptions to this--if someone says “don’t touch me, I’m upset” you don’t need to have a dissertation to answer them, you just stop touching them and offer support in another way.  But as a rule, say your bit, and then let them respond, and then they pause and let you respond.  I understand that it sounds like I’m just describing a conversation, but it’s important to make sure that you hear each other out in order to avoid misunderstandings.

APOLOGIZE

And do a good fucking job about it.  You’re going to fuck up.  If you can acknowledge that you did something wrong and be assured that it’s not a cardinal sin, you’ll feel less like any error is the death knell of the relationship.  Likewise, knowing that the other person understands what they did wrong and how to avoid it in the future is important for moving past hurts.  It’s the other person’s right to choose whether or not they forgive you, but apologizing is something that speaks to your character and the person you are choosing to be.

Since many people I know are not actually great at apologizing, through no fault of their own, here is my rubric: 

I did [thing] and it was unkind.  It was coming from a place of [emotion/trauma/circumstance/whatever] but that doesn’t make it okay to treat you that way.  I’m sorry, and I’m going to change my behavior in [way] so that I don’t do it again.

(And then you follow the fuck through on whatever change you said you were going to make.)

There’s other stuff I could list that falls under the general header of “talk, a lot, about everything, and listen intently to what they have to say.”  Discuss big ticket issues (like kids) early, treat emotional motives as validly as logical ones, don’t go to all this work for someone who won’t do the same for you, that kind of thing.  But honestly I think these four are a pretty good starting point.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [27/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: Wowieeee, it's been a long time since I've written a chapter this long. It feels like the old days. But also, I wrote this without my glasses, so... there will be errors.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

“Do you think we’ll be hanged?” Fandral asked from his cell. It wasn’t intended as a question to the room. From his tone, he certainly wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but in need of anything besides the quiet of the prison area. “I think I’d hate a hanging. There hasn’t been one in centuries. You think it will be public?”

In the parallel cell, Sif paced about. Checking the golden barriers of her cage and then pounding her fists against the barrier couple of times. Each hit barely made a sound, let alone a dent. Adjacent to your own cell, Heimdall struggled to stay upright. He looked won out. In need of a long, long sleep. Normally, seeing him in distress would make you worry, but nothing felt normal with the amulet on.

“I’m not sure I’d prefer banishment either,” Fandral kept speaking.

“At least you’ get to keep your pretty head,” Volstagg chimed in, annoyed. His face was getting redder. It seemed his friend's ruminations were becoming tiresome to listen to. “Which is better than what I’ll do to you if you don’t shut up for a minute!”

“Yggdrasil’s branches!” Sif huffed. “I can’t hear myself think with you all yapping like starved pups!”

Her tone was different from everyone else’s. Sharper. That made them afraid. Talking was a way to keep distracted. With Sif’s outburst, everyone was forced to face that silence they were too afraid to let settle. Well, everyone except Heimdall and Hogun. You, on the other hand, weren’t feeling much of anything. Strange…

“Leave them be, Sif,” Hogun said softly. His face was calm, legs crossed at the ankle as he reclined comfortably on his cot, eyes closed. “Everything will work itself out.”

“You sound so certain,” she seemed surprised. “Why?”

“Because,” Hogun stretched, sitting up on crossed legs. “One way or another, everything always reaches a conclusion.”

 Fandral let out a shaky laugh, “You’re a real comfort.”

 Hogun shrugged, “Could be worse. You could have had Thor for a cellmate. You know how he hates small spaces. Especially if he’s confined in said small places.”

Sif tried to fight her smile, a reminiscent look on her face. All the warriors had it. Even Heimdall. It must have been a shared memory. Before your time.

“That big oaf,” Sif finally let her teeth show through the smile.

As the others began to trade anecdotes from the past, mainly about Thor’s claustrophobia and a previous stint in prison, Heimdall scooted closer to you, his back pressed up against the barrier o his cell, head turned at an angle to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright?” he squinted at the amulet and then focused on your face. He was searching for something, you weren’t quite sure he found. A moment later, he sighed. “Can you even hear me?”

Yes, you said. But he didn’t respond. He didn’t hear.

He wasn’t discouraged by his inability to communicate two ways with you. He soldiered through and found another question to ask, “Does it hurt?”

It doesn’t feel like anything, you said. Again, he didn’t hear.

He was frowning now, asking question after question as if the right one would get you to open your mouth. A task so simple, yet so difficult to do.

Minutes passed—or maybe hours—when guards came to round everyone out of their cells. Everyone except you. There was a commotion. Some unpleasant words exchanged. Someone tried to rile up the Captain from before. She ignored them, acting above reproach. An impenetrable shield, shining with true Asgardian worth. The guards never lowered your cell’s barrier, and after another minute—or hour—you finally registered that you were alone in the prison ward. It didn’t bother you though. Nothing did. Not even the spot of blood that marked the spot where two guards were knocked unconscious by Loki’s hands. Two more stood slack, in a headlock between Thor’s large arms. Frigga was with them too, casting sleep spells on the last few on guard duty.

The barrier to your cell faded in the blink of an eye.  Faster than lightning, Loki rushed to your side, cradling your body against his own. He felt strong, like an anchor in the impossible storm. Smiling seemed the right thing to do, but you weren’t sure if you managed to.

He was trembling, his body hot from exertion. He kept his voice a whisper, his words only for you. “When I saw that the cells were empty, I thought… I don’t know what I thought. But you’re here. I wasn’t too late. I found you again. I have you in my arms again and I promise not to let go. Never to let go.”

Those words should have meant the world. You should have been elated. Relieved. But there was still nothing.

When you didn’t reply or lean into his touch, Loki pulled back to study you. He tugged at the clasp, but the amulet refused to separate. It took a while for Frigga to understand what was happening, to notice the amulet for what it was.

As Loki turned to use his magic against the amulet’s hold, Frigga raised a hand in warning, “No, Loki, wait—”

Loki’s magic was invasive to the amulets, and you felt the ancient device retaliate, slapping his magic away. He was knocked back on his ass before Frigga could finish her sentence.

She knelled next to you, tearing a piece of fabric from her skirts and chanting below a whisper. The fabric began to shimmer, imbued with magical essence.

“The amulet siphon’s magic, drains the wearer and attacks anyone who tries to take it off,” she explained. “You have to trick it into focusing its curse on something else, and then…” She wrapped the fabric around her hand and used it to unclasp the amulet. As it fell, the fabric was turned to nothing in a flash of cold fire. The amulet dropped onto the floor. Loki and Frigga were cautious not to touch it.

You shuddered to life. Everything bright and real. The floor was cold. Your body was every bit as tired as you remembered. And the pull of Loki’s magic returned. Beautiful. Right.

He rushed to hold you again, and this time you reciprocated. Wrapping your arms around his midriff and clinging onto him as if he were the source of all life.

“I love you,” you said abruptly.

The air left his lungs. His chest grew still. Unmoving. You loved how that sounded. His heart racing. Your words. Everything about that imperfect moment suddenly became perfect.

You laughed, euphoric. “I really do. I love you.”

You looked up to him, saw his shock and adoration and a mix of every look he’d ever given you worn under one instant. His lips quivered. He tried to speak. To breath. But he was stunned in silence.

“I regretted not telling you before,” you kissed him. Your body finding solace in the proximity. Your heart beating strong and steady, in a way it never had before. In a way that promised forever. To love forever. To live forever. To be near him forever. You had forgotten what it felt like to be exhilarated. To actually cherish each heartbeat. And, as if a flood had passed over your body, you felt renewed. Loved. You poured all of yourself into the kiss, into him. And he drank gleefully. Greedily.

“Ahem!” Thor cleared his throat, obviously flustered from witnessing you and Loki’s moment. “I’m… Uh—I’ll just… be… over there… keeping watch for patrols.” He stalked over to the staircase and pretended to keep watch. Cheeks turning tomato red.

The kiss finally broke and you both needed more than a few seconds to fill your lungs with air again.

Loki grinned from ear to ear, “To think, I’ve waited countless of your lifetimes to feel this way about anyone, and you only needed the one. I knew I was missing something since I was a little boy. You restored that part of me. Gave me the chance to see that I could be something whole. You’ve healed a broken prince, and I wish I could give you more but… I suppose… this will have to do…” He trailed off, staring intently at your face. “I’ll love you fiercely for every lifetime I spent without you. Half-mortal or not, I’ll love you a thousand year’s worth every moment of every day. For as long as we have.”

“That’s a big promise.”

“No. It’s just what you deserve.”

“Then you deserve the same. It goes both ways, so that makes two thousand year’s worth.”

He arched his brow, some of that self-assuredness he used to carry with him returned. “That’s technically not true.”

A mounted torch holder fell off the wall with a loud clang! Everyone turned to see Thor kicking the polished bronze ornament into a darkened corner. He held up his hands in a silent apology. Loki rolled his eyes.

“My brother with his insightful contribution,” Loki said, tongue-in-cheek. Loud enough for Thor to hear this time, he asked: “Would you like to make a little more noise? I don’t think every guard in the lower levels heard you.”

“I just might,” Thor grumbled, placing his hand close to another torch holder. Daring his brother to say another word.

“I don’t mean to cut this short,” Frigga interjected, helping you up off the floor. “But if we mean to do this, we must get to the others before Odin has had time to pass judgement. After that his will is paramount. Not even the Rite of Conscription will save your companions.”

You wobbled on your feet and Loki instinctively slinked an arm around your waist. You leaned into him.

“What is the Rite of Conscription?” you turned to Loki.

He frowned, “It’s… It’s the best of my bad ideas. Conscription can only be evoked by senior members of the Asgardian royal family. Once enacted, it places a subject in a position of servitude. They become agents of the court and crown. And it also means, they cannot be tried as traitors. Once conscripted, they have full protection under the King, or, in this case, Queen.”

“Sounds simple enough,” you said. Loki’s expression didn’t reassure though. “But… it’s not, is it?”

 “No. Conscription for you, given how little we know about your true lifespan, it could end up being a life sentence.”

“But I have no home to return to. No family besides Heimdall…” you felt a wave of dizziness and had to clutch onto Loki’s jacket to keep steady. His fingers found yours. He twined them together, holding them close to his chest. You looked up at him. “Up until recently, I was ready to accept Asgard as my new home. For good.”

“But it wouldn’t just be you, my dear,” Frigga pointed out. “We’d have to conscript them all to Asgard’s service. Forever. They’d never have the chance to become anything different in the future. Neither would you.”

A life of servitude in exchange for freedom from Odin’s unpredictable wrath. Or was it his illogical fear? If you had to make the choice alone, you wouldn’t hesitate, even if it landed you in a precarious position in the future. But you couldn’t dare play arbiter of fate over everyone else’s lives. That would be selfish. And you’d be no better than Odin.

“I don’t think I can agree to this,” you said solemnly. “If it was only me that had to make the decision, then… maybe. But, I was only just beginning to get to know everyone. I don’t want to be a source of tension. And Heimdall’s the only family I have left. From what he’s told me, of the Great War, of his people, conscription would be a cruel thing to do without even talking to him about it. This whole mess started because of scheming and secrecy. We can’t continue that pattern.”

Frigga’s eyes flitted to your hand interlocked with Loki’s, a new thought percolating to the surface. “Family,” she murmured.

“What?” you asked.

“Handfasting!” she said hastily, her voice the loudest you’d ever heard it.

Loki’s eyes went large, “You can’t mean…”

Frigga nodded, taking one of your hands in each of her own.

“We don’t have a priestess,” Loki spoke too quick, anxious.

“I don’t—” you tried to get a word in, but Frigga talked over you.

“It’s the best alternative. At the very least, it will grant us a year of peace. A year we can use to persuade Odin to forgive whatever transgressions he found so grave that he’d risk imprisoning the protector of the Bi-frost. I know him. If he truly wanted this, he’d have acted without hesitancy. This—” she gestured towards the prison “—this is all to buy time. He’s undecided. So we must decide for him.”

Loki brushed off her explanation, unwilling to listen, “He’s the king. His will is law. If he truly didn’t want this, he wouldn’t have done it.”

Frigga shook her head, a wizened edge hanging on her words, “Only tyrants rule in that manner. And he is not his father.”

“What does Bor have to do with any of this?” Loki said, eyeing his mother suspiciously. She dismissed his prying with a flick of her wrist. She did it with the same flourish that Loki did.

You looked to Thor then back to Frigga, lost. “Is anyone going to tell me what handfasting is, or—”

“It’s a marriage,” Thor blurted out.

Now it was your turn to go silent.  

“Subtle, brother. Thank you for that,” Loki chided. He placed his attentions back on you in an effort to explain things more smoothly, avoiding your gaze. “Handfasting isn’t exactly as binding as marriage. Handfasting is like… a trial period. It was used in arranged marriages to see if the betrothed were… agreeable. It was also a way to end disputes politically. Give the respective sides time to assess and recuperate.”

“I see,” was all you could muster, your voice small.

“In fact, Odin and I were handfasted,” Frigga said. “And if you have any doubts, remember, as Loki said, it isn’t binding. But as a betrothed, your family gains diplomatic immunity. And since Heimdall is Vanir, both of you fall under allies, not subjects.”¨

Finally, you found your voice. “What of Sif and the others?” 

“They’d be protected too,” she assured you. “The handfasting period is a period of peace. If anyone acts out violently, then they disrespect the old ways. And Odin is too traditional. The old ways are his ways. His father’s ways. He will respect the year of peace. I’ll make sure of it.”

You took a sure, deep breath. Steeling yourself. You had dreamed of a future with Loki. Years spent discovering each other, learning of intimacies beyond touch. Sharing desires and thoughts. Spending days in the library, discovering more about your peoples, more about your magic. It may not have included a mysterious boy from Verdenspeil. Or a handfasting ceremony as a last-ditch effort to one-up Odin, but then again, your life on Asgard had been far from ideal. Loki waited for your answer, his eyes holding a darker edge to them; desire. Frigga and Thor waited with bated breath, both their postures too ramrod straight, towering over you. Expecting an answer.

“Then, my answer is yes.” You smiled, both anxious and excited. There was a shared sigh of relief in the room.  

Frigga turned to her son, happy for him. He pressed his forehead to yours and mimicked your actions.

“Yes,” he said with a laugh caught in his throat.

Frigga whispered a spell, and suddenly, a spool of ribbon inked itself between your hand and Loki’s. Twisting into an infinity loop at the wrist. You thought of the snake from the cave, then immediately, you remembered the dream with the snake in the cave. Something in you stirred. Through your conjoined hands, you felt Loki’ magic reciprocate that feeling. A yearning. He looked at you with a devilish smirk, making heat spread in your belly. You almost turned away, face too hot.

Frigga’s chant ended. The lyrical music notes of it lost to your unfamiliar ears. Loki and Thor seemed to recognise some of it. You made it a point to remember to ask one of them about it. Especially since the last line made Loki blush.

“I need something to seal the incantation. Something with magic imbued,” Frigga said, searching the surroundings for anything that could work.

Thor opened his fist and after a few seconds of awkward silence, his hammer came crashing through the walls perpendicular to where he was facing. Rumble rolled to your feet, and Frigga looked at him with the most motherly expression you’d ever seen.

“Will this do?” Thor shrugged and held the hammer above you and Loki’s linked arms.

“Just,” Frigga said as she finished off the incantation. A torrent of light, holding all the colours of the rainbow encircled the spot of union.

Everything was as clear as a summer’s morning. Colour giving life to the room. Magic tingling everywhere.

Frigga cleared her throat, “Marked by magic, and witnessed by a prince of Asgard, do you, Loki, and your betrothed, vow to keep the peace and set aside any grudges and conflicts for one year? Do you vow to share, in confidence, the truth of your thoughts and the full extent of your feelings for one another, whatever they may be, however they might grow?”

“I vow,” he said, openly.

A roucus above the floor alerted you to a group of guards immobilising on your position. Distracted, your head tilted up, as if you could will yourself to see through the stone. Your heart quickened and Frigga nudged you. Thor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move his hammer an inch.

“Dear, you have to vow,” she brought you back to the present.

“Yes. I vow,” you nodded, trying to stay calm.

Frigga concentrated her magic, her palms coming close. “Then, with these words, I bind you to one another. Bind you in peace. And hope a union will spring from your time together.”

Frigga’s eyebrows drew close together, her hands straining to maintain the magic. A bead of sweat meandered across her temple. And with a grunt, Mjölnir went flying into the wall, a burst of energy exploding out war. Frigga released her grip, panting. “It is done. You are handfasted.”

“Was that supposed to happen?” Thor pointed to the new hole in the wall.

Frigga shook her head, “No. There was…” she regarded you carefully, making sure not to let her face betray whatever she was thinking. “Resistance. It—It’s probably nothing. We’re all tired. We’ve all been through ordeals. It could simply be fatigue.”

You glanced at your tattoo. It had cracks along the artificial ribbon, as if unfinished. The colour of bright emeralds flawed by golden veins. Hints of cerulean in the right lighting. The triquetra, Mjölnir’s symbol, had formed an endless pattern on the ribbon. Easily missed, and of delicate line work. The prick and bristle of the tattoo's magic was bewildering. Sparking with a deeper connection than you could articulate. It wasn’t just the symbol of a bond, but an actual link to both you and Loki.

Loki rushed to his mother’s side, placing a hastened kiss on your forehead beforehand. Thor’s palm called out to Mjölnir and it returned with the sound of thunder rumbling outside. The hoard of guards descending upon you sounded closer. Their voices louder.

“Bit much, don’t you think?” Loki frowned at Thor.

 “Subtlety is lost on me,” Thor said.

“Yes, well… you wouldn’t be my brother if it wasn’t.”

Thor and Loki shared a moment. Their bickering giving way to something deeper. Something neither of them would voice aloud anytime soon. It was trust. A different kind of love. Greater than blood.  

“We should get out of here,” Thor began spinning his hammer and suddenly a gut-punching realisation hit you.

You yanked on Thor’s bulky arm, “Wait! Where’s Baldrick?”

All three of them looked at you, confused.

“Who?” they asked simultaneously.

 ~Odin

The child that had come through the portal with Heimdall and Y/N was strange. Odin had brought him to his study and asked him questions.

The boy—Baldrick as he came to introduce himself—possessed knowledge beyond his years. An aura to him, almost ancient, yet also too young, too powerful. Odin had given him a puzzle to solve, one that required intimate knowledge of magic and science. Baldrick had fiddled with the pentagon-shaped object with a blasé expression. He had solved it faster than Odin had when his father had presented him with the same challenge.

“Astounding,” Odin remarked as the boy set the puzzle down. Baldrick busied himself by staring at the books in Odin’s study. He had made it a point not to speak beyond saying his name.

The boy seemed so familiar. A likeness in his small face.

Odin knew he was biding time by trying to figure out how Baldrick’s mind worked, but he was thankful for the distraction. When Loki had pounded at his door, demanding an audience, Baldrick had studied Odin as if he was the old man and Odin was the boy. It was a peculiar feeling.

When Aisling had been the one to knock on his door, hiding her true thoughts behind pleasantries, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. A judgement needed to be passed. After all, the Allfather does not lash out on a whim. He’s concise. Calculative. And pragmatic. And he had pushed things too far when he’d sent the Destroyer.

Regret. That’s what had been eating him since Loki fell unconscious. And what had he done once his son awoke? Cowered away. All in the name of protecting his family’s legacy and keeping the truth of his father’s reign buried. It was his curse. His duty. But, at least it hurt less than what he did to Hela. That was a transgression he could never make right, failing as a father.

 He left the boy in his study. Odin feared he may have been more perceptive to emotion. And emotion was the last thing he cared to face.

 Heimdall was held down by the straining arm of a member of the royal guard. His knees kissing stone. Beside him, Sif and her companions held the same posture; necks refusing to stay weighed down, heads facing Odin with arms tied behind their backs, armour stripped for simple clothing.

 “What am I to do with you?” Odin finally spoke. His fingers ghosted over the intricate designs carved into his stave, feeling the schism between each drawn line and folded knot; feeling the obvious divide in his family and peoples. With a sigh, he continued, “Disobedience, theft, evasion and escape. Worst of all, you all knowingly defied the will of your king. One son wasted away in a tower, the other in taverns. And Frigga… My health is barely as it was. What would you have me do? Make an example of you? Show you lenience? Leave you to the mercy of the Destroyer?”

“Do as you wish. I have made my peace with my decisions, and I’d do it all again to ensure my daughter was safe,” Heimdall said.

His voice wasn’t intended to sound defiant, but lately, to Odin’s suspicious ears, everything sounded suspect.

“Safe?” Odin didn’t mean to condescend, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “And can you say the same for everyone in this room? Sif? Volstagg? Hogun? Even you, Fandral? Could you all say that you’d go to the gallows for an outsider? A mortal?”

“Half. Mortal.” Heimdall corrected. A withheld threat somewhere beneath his red-hot glare.

“Now, hold on a minute,” Fandral’s voice fumbled, “that seems an overreaction.”

“Is it not part of our teachings to show benevolence to those that see us as more?” Sif challenged, hurling the guard that held her down over her shoulder. “A mere mortal? You’re the Allfather, the one Midgardians pray to, the one whose story they carve onto mountains. Even if she wasn’t Heimdall’s daughter, it is our duty to protect her, to protect all of them.”

The guard tried to retaliate, but Odin held up his hand, stopping their advances.

“Your notions are young,” Odin said with a sad smile. “I miss seeing the world as simply as you all do, but that is not our reality. And that is why you do not bear the weight of a ruler. I hope none of you do.”

Heimdall watched him closely as he stood to walk closer. Some of that trust they’d built over years of infighting and war was still there, despite them both trying to act otherwise. Bonds of war and patricide were hard to shake.

“Are you still willing to risk everything to keep this fragile peace? This lie?” Heimdall asked. When Odin did not give an answer, Heimdall lamented to himself, “So, this is how it is then.”

“I must pass judgement now. Chaos cannot stand,” Odin quieted the room with a strike of his stave. The room grew very still. Then, Thor’s hammer burst through the door, causing a commotion.

Odin’s breath was stolen away when he saw Frigga stride in a few paces behind their son. And his heart stopped entirely when he saw the tell-tale ribbon tattoo shared between Loki and Y/N.

To his surprise, he was relieved.

“No judgement shall be passed today!” Frigga announced. “No judgement shall be passed until the year is over.” She walked over to pull attention to Loki and Y/N’s matching tattoos. “They are handfasted, and the rules of the old ways are clear. Y/N and her Father, being both of the Vanir, both of my homeworld, cannot be harmed. Nor can they be tried by the king of another realm. Especially since it is your son who is handfasted.”

Odin smiled, and everyone in the room was shocked by his response, “The old ways are sacred, and so, I accept your conditions.” His smile grew wider, “My Queen.”

Frigga walked over to his side easily.

He struck his stave once more and gestured for the guards to stand down. Y/N rushed to Heimdall’s side helping him up, while Sif and Thor and the Warriors Three had their own little reunion.

Yes, he thought to himself. This is a far better outcome.

“Mark today as the start of a passive year. A year of peace,” he decreed.

“Where’s Baldrick?” Y/N demanded, a protective scowl on her face.

Curious, he thought. That they’d form such a bond in such small time. The boy obviously had a way of influencing those around him. Albeit, passively.

Odin was about to answer when the boy shimmered into the room as if summoned, a favourite of Loki’s tricks. Loki stared at the boy, noticing the same thing.

“I am here,” Baldrick said. Y/N took large strides to his side and offered her hand to him. Baldrick walked to the other side, accepting the arm that wasn’t marked by the tattoo instead.

“Well, that was rather unpleasant,” Volstagg stretched, his stomach growling deeply. “How about some good, old fashioned merriment and song tonight?”

“Aye! I have a bone to pick with you all for abandoning me in a tavern to go off on your own adventure,” Thor pouted.

Sif ribbed his arm casually, “You were brooding. You’re utterly useless when you brood.”

“I am not!” he refuted.

“You are too,” Fandral and Loki said simultaneously.

Hogun patted Thor’s back, a teasing smirk on his lips, “Wait until you hear of the snake made of stone.”

Frigga walked over to Loki’s side, whispering something in his ear. He adjusted his collar as if he couldn’t breathe. His gaze fell on Y/N as he strode purposefully to her side. But before he could reach her, Heimdall blocked his path, imposing and large as he looked down at him with a set jaw.

“You and I have much to discuss,” Heimdall glanced at the handfasting tattoo with disapproval. “But,” he sighed, letting his body shrink lower, “it can wait till the morning, I suppose. Your father and I have much to sort through.” He turned to Odin and they both nodded in agreement.

Loki heaved a sigh when Heimdall turned his back. Y/N and Loki shared a secret laugh--the kind Odin had shared with Frigga in youth--before he got on his knee and extended his hand to the small boy.

“I’m Loki,” he said. “I take it, you’re Baldrick?”

Heimdall came to stand close to Odin, arms folded. “Where do we go from here?”

Odin sat back on his throne, his bones aching. “We let them savour their youth.”

“And what happens once the year is done?”

Odin eyes the dispersing crowd, unsure of how to answer that question.

 To be continued...

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[thewildomega]

Doughnut of Lies Ch.7

"What part of bed rest do you not understand?" he grumbled as he finally found his fiance walking through town. 

"I have been in that room for a week now with your sisters and mother constantly nagging me about wedding details... I am going to go stir crazy." you told him. 

Narrowing his eyes at a passing male who looked to his female a little to long he saw the male quickly look away and walk a little faster away from the both of them. She no longer wore her necklace to conceal what her true status was. He had made it clear that she had no reason to hide it and truth be told he wanted everyone to know she was his omega. She was very hesitant at first and he understood why but he promised to keep her safe. He dared anyone to make a comment or make a move on her. This however posses as a slight problem, he didn't want her going anywhere alone and she was being as stubborn as ever. "I thought we talked about you going out alone?" he asked, following her as she walked. 

Sighing you rolled your eyes, "Kata come on, I am literally just walking through town..."

"And something could still happen y/n." he said a bit more deeper than he had been talking. 

"See this why I never told anyone, because everyone thinks now suddenly I can't take care of myself." you growled. 

Snatching her behind one of the buildings and quickly forming a small room from his mochi to hide them away from prying ears and eyes he glared down at her, pulling down his scarf. "I know you can take care of yourself, I know you are a good fighter y/n but that doesn't change the fact that you are still recovering. Even if you were a beta do you think I would worry about you less, that I wouldn't fuss over you, because if you did you are wrong. I have been protective over you since we were kids and that isn't going to stop, in fact it is going to get worse but not only because you are an omega but because you are going to be my wife." Seeing her still refusing to look at him he knelled down to her level and curled his finger under her chin to force her eyes to his. "Sweetheart please don't be angry with me. I do not doubt you, I know first hand how skilled you are and I know you can defend yourself if need be but please understand where I am coming from. I would never forgive myself if something was to happen to you again, I already failed you once I won't do it again." 

Letting out a deep breath you looked into his soft crimson eyes and saw nothing but love there. You did know where he was coming from and knew he was following his instincts. It was just a big adjustment. Nodding you saw his lip turn up just a small amount before they pressed to yours. Closing your eyes you focused on the feel of his soft lips against yours. There was the slightest pressure on your cheeks from his teeth but you just found it all the more tantalizing. 

"Alright y/n come out... I know you are in there." Smoothie called from outside. 

"You can not hide from us, you are trying on wedding dresses today and that's final." Compote added. 

Whining at being caught you heard Katakuri chuckle as he pulled away. Moving closer to him you laid your forehead on his massive chest. "Can't we just elope?" you grumbled. 

Humming he placed his hand on her back and kissed the crown of her head. "Afraid not sweetheart. Don't worry just a few more days and then you won't have to worry about it anymore. Besides I am looking forward to seeing you in a dress." he grinned.

Punching his chest you glared up at him playfully, "Traitor." 

Chuckling he smiled and pecked her lips one last time before standing back to full height and pulling up his scarf. Getting rid of the small room he had made to give them a moment of privacy he saw all of the older sisters standing there with a look of annoyance on their faces. 

"Really y/n running away while we weren't looking?" Mash scolded. 

"Worth a try." you shrugged and heard them all scoff. 

"Alright sisters I leave my bride in your hands." he said and saw them nod. Looking down to the omega he placed his hand on her head to ruffle her hair, "I will see you later for supper, behave please and no more running away." 

"Yea yea." you sighed. Watching him walk off you looked back to your soon to be sisters in law and held out your wrists, "Take me away." you said and heard Brulee and some of the others giggle while Compote only rolled her eyes and grabbed our hand to take you back to the palace for your dress fittings. 

....................................

Well today was the day. Today you would marry the love of your life, something you never thought possible. While you had been playing it off that this was no big deal now that the day was actually here you were nervous as hell. You knew Big Mom and her daughters had every detail planned out and it wasn't so much of the wedding it's self that you were nervous about but more so you. While you had mostly healed up there were faint scars littering your back still and your wrists were still red from where the cuffs had rubbed them raw. Looking over your reflection in the mirror again you sighed, biting your lip. Smoothie had done a good job with your make up, covering what little bruising remained on your temple. What did show through you quickly covered with your hair, pulling out one of the many pins to let a few waves fall to cover it. The dress was beautiful and showed off your womanly curves that you normally kept hidden. You had even opted for wearing shoes today, as much as you hated them you knew the heels would help you loot at least a little taller beside your soon to be husband. Husband, just the thought of being able to soon call Katakuri that made your heart warm. You couldn't wait to see him, you were sure he looked handsome in his suit. You hoped he would like how you looked, that he would think you were pretty. Taking a deep breath you turned away from the mirror and moved to look out the window when a knock sounded at the door. Instantly you felt your nerves pick up more.

Sucking in a breath as he opened the door and looked inside he smiled. "You look beautiful darling." Whitebeard said with a sigh as he looked to his daughter. Closing the door behind him he swallowed hard at the sight of her all done up in a wedding dress. Seeing her look down and give a small smile he moved closer to her, "I hope this boy knows how lucky he is." 

Blushing you lifted your eyes to your father as he moved closer to you. Already having used your powers to grow to your full height you were still only half the size of him but it helped a little. He looked nice as well, having traded in his usual tan pants for a black pair and a black button up shit underneath his captain's coat.

"I was told you wished to see me." he said with a tilt of his head.

Nodding you licked your lips and tried to steady your rapidly beating heart. While it was your dream come true to have your father here on your special day there was one thing you wanted to ask him. It was a long shot you knew but you would never forgive yourself if you didn't at least ask. "I um... I wanted to know if you would... well if you might walk me down the isle?" you finally managed to get out.  He didn't say anything, just stood there looking down at you and you felt your heart fall to your stomach. While you had already prepared yourself for the chance he would say no it didn't make it hurt any less. You understood of course, the two of you had only just met and asking him to give you away was like a stranger asking him. Looking down you quickly blinked back tears, not wanting to mess up your make up or worse guilt him into it. "Y..you don't have to I just... never mind. I'm sorry I..."

His mind completely stopped working as she asked him to escort her down the isle. He had been thinking all this time about how he wouldn't be able to do the thing father's did for their daughters because he hadn't been there for her. Not that he blamed her at all, he hadn't been there for her any other time why would she want him to be there for her on her special day. So when he actually heard her ask him to do it he froze. It took him a few seconds longer to process the whole situation than it should have and when he blinked his eyes to reboot his brain he saw her looking down, her shoulders curled in some as she started apologizing to him for bothering to ask. "Yes." he said quickly, his voice deep as he tried to even it out. 

Looking back up to him as he spoke you saw him smiling as he knelled down to get closer to you. 

"Nothing would make me happier darling." he told her and saw her smile largely, her eyes shining with hidden tears. Swallowing thickly he reached into his pocket, "I was going to give you this before the ceremony." he grinned. Taking her tiny right hand in his he lifted it up and pushed Selena's ring on her finger. "I would like you to have this. Think of it as having some part of your mother here with you as well." he told her and then smiled sadly, "She would be so proud of you y/n and the woman you have become. I know she is looking down on you now with a big smile on her face."

Feeling your lip begin to quiver you leaned forward to wrap your arms around his neck as best you could to hug him. "Thank you." you whispered. 

Hugging her back he closed his eyes and smiled. Staying there for a few moments he finally pulled away and looked down at her with a smile, brushing away a tear that had fell to her cheek. "No more crying now runt, this is a happy day." he told her and saw her nod. Hearing a knock at the door and someone tell them it was time he stood and grinned, "Now you sure you want to marry into this crazy family? If you changed your mind we can make a run for my ship." he asked playfully and heard her giggle but saw her shake her head. Nodding he held out his hand, "Alright then." Handing her her flowers he smiled down at her "Ready?" he asked and saw her nod. 

................................

Katakuri stood at the front of the room along with the priest waiting. His heart beat like thunder in his ears when heard the doors open and saw the priest look behind him with wide eyes. Turning around he felt his breath hitch in his throat and the world stop around him. He wasn't very surprised to see Whitebeard escorting y/n down towards him, she had told him she wanted to ask her father to do it and he was happy he had agreed. No instead his eyes focused on his bride, his true love. She was so beautiful that he did not know where to begin to describe. Her hair was done in small braids that wrapped around a larger one going down the side of her head with little strands left out covering the bruise still left on her temple. Looking over her dress he had to swallow hard at how it insinuated her figure and gave a modest glimpse of her cleavage. He had never seen her in a dress before and he was not disappointment. Meting her eyes he saw them to hold nervousness and happiness. When they reached him he broke his eyes from her for only a moment to look to her father. Seeing the all in all 'King of the sea' give him a firm look before he grinned. Watching the emperor bend down to kiss the top of y/n's head he reached out and  to take her hand from her father's. 

Looking up at the minister of flour you could feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around. He looked so handsome it should be illegal. He was dressed in his a suit, a black suit with a white undershirt and a sapphire blue tie, ditching his leather just for this day. As you had guessed he kept his scarf, the fluffiness wrapped around his shoulders and neck to cover his mouth. Meeting his crimson eyes you saw love and it made you smile even more than you already were. Feeling your father kiss the top of your head you hummed and gave him a grin before Kata was holding his hand out for you to take. Swallowing the lump in your throat you took his large hand and let him pull you up to stand before the crowd. 

His eyes stayed on her as he repeated the priest's words. He vowed to protect her with his life. He promised to provide for her and put her before anything and everything. "... You are mine and I am yours. From this day and until the end of our days." he said as the priest pronounced them husband and wife. 

"You may kiss your bride." the priest said.

Kissing her through his scarf he held her close to him and heard as the crowd cheered and hollered. Looking down he saw a blush covering her cheeks and grinned. 

"Mister and Misses Charlotte Katakuri." the priest said as the two turned to face the crowd of people.

"About Fucking time!" Oven yelled making some of the other siblings laugh. 

Chuckling he looked down to her, his wife and felt pride fill his chest. She was his, only his. Making his way out of the hall he pulled her into one of the small rooms for a moment alone. 

"Kata what..." You asked when he locked the door but were cut off by him pulling down his scarf and bending down to smash his lips to yours. You gasped a little but felt yourself relax and your eyes slip close soon. 

Placing his hand on her back he lifted her up carefully, holding her to him as he properly kissed his bride. Pulling away after a moment he laid his forehead against hers he kept his eyes closed and grinned. "I love you, my wife."  

"And I love you, my husband." you smiled, nuzzling his cheek with yours. 

..................................

The wedding reception was amusing to say the least. There was plenty of food of course, the cake was massive which didn't surprise either of you in the slightest. What had surprised you was when your husband had pulled you from your seat to dance with you, twirling you around and making you laugh. He still wore his scarf but you could tell he as smiling underneath from how his scars crinkled. Another thing that there was plenty of was alcohol, your father had seemed more than amused when Cracker made a joke about no one being able to out drink the bride. Smoothie had taken plenty of pictures which you were happy for, one of your favorites being the one of you, Katakuri, Big Mom and your father. 

Watching his wife smile and laugh with Brulee and Marco he stood with his brothers, Oven, Daifuku and  Perospero a contempt look on his face. 

"Bet the navy would loose their shit if they saw all the pirates in this one place." Oven chuckled. 

"Yes, Mama and Whitebeard alone would be enough to make even Sengoku blow a fuse." Daifuku added. 

"Can you imagine what they will say when word gets out that the emperors children married." Peros said with a smirk. "Your children will have bounties on them the day they are born." with a chuckle.

Stiffening he kept his eyes focused on his wife, watching as she yanked on Cracker's ear for putting a piece of ice down the back of her dress. He had already considered what his older brother pointed out. While they did not yet know if y/n would be able to bare his pups he knew if she did his children would be hunted simply because of their bloodline. Already his little omega was being targeted, word had gotten out about her true status and who her parents were. The daughter of famous Whitebeard and Selena, a marine Captain, the spawn of a taboo relationship. No doubt about it, to protect his family he would have to keep getting stronger. Taking a deep breath he made his way over to his bride. Seeing Cracker go to hit her, most likely only in a playful way, he raised his brow at his little brother and saw him drop his hand. "Alright sweetheart let him go." 

"Geez y/n/n you almost yanked my ear offfoww." Cracker said, rubbing the back of his head from where Katakuri had smacked him. 

Raising a brow in warning when his little brother looked to him he saw the male drop his shoulders before grumbling and walking off to go bother someone else. Grinning he looked down to his wife and dipped his head a little, "Can I not leave you alone for five minutes?" When she only smiled up at him he chuckled. Again admiring her beauty he sighed at how lucky he was. When he noticed the hint of exhaustion in her blue eyes he hummed, with everything that had been going on along with her traumatic experience she was no doubt tired. It was getting late, she had been using her devil fruit powers for hours without break to stay large around everyone as well. "What do you say we call it a night?" he asked. 

Nodding you felt him place his hand on your back  to quietly lead you both from the banquet hall, leaving everyone else to party as long as they wanted. As you both started walking down the halls and the noise dimmed down to a peaceful silence you sighed, your eyes feeling heavy. 

Noting her pace slowing down he glanced down to see her eyes a little lidded but a soft grin still on her face. Stopping he scooped her up into his arms, bridal style. When she looked at him he blinked slowly, "You have been using your devil powers for hours, turn back." She surprisingly didn't argue with him and he felt as she shrunk down to her true size in his arms. Now being able to hold her in one arm he moved his free hand to brush back some of her hair. Continuing to his room in the palace he felt her lean into his chest. Before long he had gotten them back to his room and closed the door before locking it. After giving the room a quick scan to make sure they were alone he removed his scarf and tossed it to the couch. Carrying her to the bed he sat her down on the high mattress and stood back up. Her eyes watched him as he removed his suit jacket, his tie and then started on the buttons of his shirt. When she reached out to finished the last half he felt his face heat up but let her do as she wished. Once the buttons were done he pulled it from his shoulders and tossed it to the couch with the rest of the pile. Bending down to remove his boots and socks he stood back straight and saw her still looking at him. Removing his belt he unbuttoned his pants but left them on for now. 

Watching him undress was a show all it's own with is huge muscles rolling as he moved. When he was down to just his pants you were sure your heart was going to beat out of your chest. Your nerves were sure to eat you from the inside, out. For as long as you can remember the idea of marrying Katakuri had seemed like an unrealistic fantasy so of course you had never allowed yourself to think this far... to your wedding night. But it was real, this was real and you knew what was expected of you, what couples did on their wedding night. Swallowing hard you used your powers to grow back to your full size but he spoke mid change. 

"No." 

Confused you looked up at him and furrowed your brows, "Kata I think this would be much easier... that it would make more sense if I..."

"I will not be claiming you tonight." he said, his cheeks no doubt as red as his hair. 

Licking your lips you couldn't help but feel self conscious, did he not want you? "Y...you don't want to con..summate our marriage?" you asked, your voice growing a bit soft. 

Kneeling down in front of her he looked into her eyes and moved his hand to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "Oh I do Y/n, I really, really do, but not tonight sweetheart." Moving to begin unlacing her dress he kept his eyes on hers. "I want you to completely heal first." Seeing the fabric become loose around her, her arm moving to hold it over her breasts he swallowed hard. He had made this decision and he was going to stick to it. Glancing to the bedside table he saw the folded black silk there that he had left earlier and grabbed it. Placing the light material in her small hands he grinned softly. "Tonight I wish only to have my wife sleep beside me."

Glancing down to the silk you lifted it up and saw a short sleeveless nightgown with lace trimming. Licking your lips you looked back up at him an smiled, "You know I usually sleep naked." you smirked and saw his cheeks turn bright red. 

Blinking slowly he placed his hands on either side of her, "Please don't make this harder for me than it already is." he groaned and heard her giggle. 

Leaning forward to kiss him you heard him hum and lifted your free hand up to his neck, pushing your fingers up to his hair. Feeling his one hand move to your lower back, his warm skin touching yours where your dress was open you sighed a little. 

Already he could feel his pants becoming uncomfortable and he growled as the alpha in him demanded more. He knew what he wanted but he was afraid he would hurt her somehow. Maybe just a little, just a taste. Flicking his tongue out a little to tease her lips he felt her tense and went to quickly pull away but she parted her own lips before he could. His heart beat like a hammer in his chest as he experimentally moved his tongue between her lips and into her mouth.

Like the rest of him, his tongue was huge, long, quickly filling the entirety of your mouth. You could hear him growling and it made you want to kiss him back. Choosing to let go of your dress you felt it pool to around your waist but paid it no mind as you wrapped both your arms around his neck and moved your tongue along with his. He tasted sweet and you could feel the sharpness of his teeth but it didn't make you want to kiss him any less. The alpha was quick to dominate the kiss, plunging his tongue into the back of your mouth. His arm had tightened around your middle to hold you flush against his hard body. When he started breathing heavily and you felt his grip become tighter against your still tender back you hissed and felt him break away.

He held her tightly to him, not wanting to let go but knowing she wasn't ready for this yet he swallowed hard and placed a hard kiss to her forehead. Taking deep breaths to regain control he kept his eyes closed, running his nose through her hair and breathing in her sweet scent. "Why do you enjoy torturing me?" he asked and heard her giggle. Knowing her dress had fallen he kept his eyes closed, if he saw her his resolve would be gone in an instant. Scooping her up he held her to him, growling low at the feel of her bare skin against his own. Oh God he could feel her nipples. Gritting his teeth he kept telling himself the many reasons why they couldn't mate tonight. She is still hurt. She is exhausted. While this was his room this wasn't his home and he wanted to take her in his bed, in their bed. She was supposed to see her father off tomorrow and if he had his way with her she may not be up for doing much the next day and he didn't want to have to look Whitebeard in the eye and explain why his daughter was walking funny... if she could walk at all. What if someone hears, he was to be the only person to hear those noises from her. No they couldn't, he wouldn't allow it. Taking her into the bathroom he sat her down on her feet and held out the nightgown for her to take all the while refusing to look at her. "Get changed." he said and heard her small chuckle as she took it from him. She was having way too much fun with this. Grumbling he turned around and shut the door to give her her privacy. Taking the time to take off his pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers he calmed the alpha in him. 

Opening the door you were in the middle of a yawn and looked to see Katakuri standing in the middle of the room in his boxers, black silk, matching your nightgown. When he turned to you you forced yourself to keep your eyes from drifting to his manly V. Seeing him walk over to you you looked up to his eyes and grinned sleepily. You hadn't realized until you got out of your wedding dress washed your face and took down your hair how truly tired you were. 

Looking down at her in her nightgown with her hair in waves and her heavy eyes looking up at him he smiled softly. Lifting her up he carried her to the bed and pulled down the duvet before settling down. Holding her on his chest he made sure she was covered up and ran his hand up and down her small frame. 

Nuzzling into his chest you felt his warm hand rub over you and sighed, your eyes closing. "I love you Kit-Kat." you mumbled, placing your ear to his chest to listen to his thumping heart.

"I love you too sweetheart." 

[crisisdparity]

First Encounter

'Okay,' Ladybug thought to herself, 'let's take stock of what's going on. I've been transported to some fantasy realm, shrunk to three and a half feet tall, Chat will not stop rubbing his new bodybuilder physique or increased height in my face...'

She winced and held her side and glared balefully at the red number '2' in the corner of her vision.

'...and I've just been attacked by two of my best friends and am apparently at two hit points.'

"It's over Ladybug!" the voice of Alya Cesaire declared while dressed like some fantasy version of Lady Wi-Fi and her ears ending in adorable little points. "Your constant bullying and harassment of the great and wonderful Lila Rossi comes to an end today!"

"You never should have let your jealousy of her get the better of you," a blue-skinned Nino Lahiffe with brightly colored leather armor that had bubble-like shoulder pads and sporting one heck of an underbite shook his head and brandished a staff weapon with a hoop on one end like some bizarrely medieval Bubbler. "I never would have pegged you for being so petty and dishonest."

'I've had nightmares like this,' Ladybug thought as she muttered the incantation for a spell called Cure Wounds that she apparently had while in this twisted version of reality. 'Granted they took place at school, my friends weren't akumatized, and I wasn't dressed in fantasy steampunk, but other than that it went pretty much like this.'

"Don't worry, M'Lady, I'll protect you!" Chat the Barbarian (dang it, she was never getting that out of her head now) declared as he took up a protective position, clearly intending to intercept anything either of their opponents sent her way.

"I'm fine, Chat," she said as she felt herself heal back to full hit points... a measly 11. 'It's official, whatever system this is, level 1 sucks.'

"Not for long, you won't be," Alya/Fantasy Wi-Fi sneered. "Do it, Bubbler."

'Well, that answers that question.'

"With pleasure," Armored Bubbler grinned toothily as he drew back his hoop-staff-thing.

"You'll have to get by me first," Chat the Barbarian (yep, never getting that out of my head) challenged.

"Nah, dude," Bubbler chuckled sinisterly, "I won't."

With that, he swung his hoop-staff-thing and three glowing bubbles shot out of it towards Chat. And then, to her utter astonishment, they swerved around him and converged directly on her.

She hit the ground and saw only an angry '0' fill her vision with two sets of three hollow circles below it.

"M'Lady?" she heard Chat call out in shock. "Ladybug?!"

"We really need to speed this up," Lady Wi-Fi said as she did something with a card that made a bell sound like some sort of death knell and Ladybug felt like she was kicked in the gut.

One of the hollow circles on the bottom row filled with an angry red and she realized what they meant.

'Oh my god,' she thought with horror, 'this is it. I might actually die here...'

-----

Chat Noir felt his blood run cold as he saw the little red dot under the party indicator for Ladybug light up. This was real. They could actually die her. Ladybug could actually die.

"Aw, is poor Chat worried about the pathetic little bully?" Lady Wi-Fi taunted. "Don't be. She's getting what she deserves. But it's not too late for you. You can still apologize for ever doubting Lila. I'm sure she'd be more than willing to forgive you if you begged for it."

"Yeah, dude. Just hand over your Miraculous and we can forget that you ever took her side over someone as kind and decent as Lila."

These... these things... they looked like his friends, but they certainly didn't talk like them. Even when they were akumatized originally, they acted more like the people he knew than whatever these things were.

These... these... facsimiles... that dared... to hurt his Lady...

He felt something dark and primal well up in him and he grabbed his staff with both hands, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.

"Claws... OUT!" he snarled more ferally than he could ever recall as he charged forward, swinging his staff like a bat.

The Bubbler-thing didn't even move, he was so surprised and the resounding crack of broken bone echoed as the Akuma hit the dirt, one of his underfangs flying off into the grass.

"Bubbler!" the Wi-Fi-thing screeched and swiped a card, causing that death knell sound again. Chat grunted as he felt something, but just wound up to take her down too. They hurt his Lady and he would see them bleed for it.

He swung as hard as he could, but the Wi-Fi-thing ducked under and swiped again. Another death knell, another something felt, he just saw more red.

And then the Wi-Fi thing got smacked in the face by a familiar yo-yo and he felt his rage vanish.

"Hey Minou," a rough looking Ladybug smirked at him. "Guess what getting a 20 does?"

"No! No!" the Wi-Fi thing shrieked and pulled out a rolled up piece of paper—was that an actual scroll?—and grabbed the Bubbler-thing. "You haven't seen the last of us!"

There was a pop of light and the parodies of their friends vanished.

He just laughed. And cried. And probably grabbed Ladybug in a big hug and swung her around in a fit of relief. But he couldn't say that. She'd sworn him to secrecy.

[antihero-writings]

Before It Kills You Too 

Fandom: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)

Fic Summary: Anger was a fire, it burned white hot and devastated the world around it. But then it faded...This was more than anger. 

Hera goes for a drive after a fight with Zeus, and has some time to think. Her internal monologue and memories, using Blackpink's "Kill This Love" as a prompt.

Character Focus: Hera

Notes: If you haven't listened to, and/or watched the music video for Blackpink's "Kill This Love" (I’ll put a link in the replies!), I highly recommend you do so either before or after reading, as the fic is based on the lines, and a few of the visuals of it!

Also, fyi, I am very new to the world of kpop myself... I deeply apologize if I didn't do the song justice!

I am a big fan of Greek Mythology (though I don't know it super well), and adore retellings of it, (as well as retellings of classic literature in general). But the two characters I've never liked in other retellings + the original myths are Zeus and Hera. But Rachel does such a great job with the characters in LO she managed to create a version of both Zeus and Hera not only do I like, they are in my top favorite characters of the series. 

I've wanted to write a fic for Lore Olympus for a while (as well as something using "Kill This Love" as a prompt), and I decided to write one about them, both because I don't think there are as many fics about them, and to honor what a great job she's done with these characters, and how much she made me like them (and because the song fit too well with her!)!

Chapter 1: I Owe It All to You 

Hera kept glancing from the road to the speedometer, the dial sneaking steadily upwards: sixty miles an hour to seventy in seconds.

She leaned over and took a cigarette from the pack, putting it between the fingers of the hand on the steering wheel. She took out the lighter and clicked it open, lighting the end, then closed it again and set it back down in the cupholder while she breathed in.

Smoke never tasted so sweet as when she was angry with him.

Eighty, ninety.

“Good to see you again, Bunny!”

“It’s only been a few days!” She laughed, “And who’s Bunny?”

“You are!” Zeus took her hands and gave her eskimo nose kisses. “Who else?”

The golden girl smiled, big and bright—

—the kind of smile one can only give when the world itself is big and bright. When one lives in a realm of hope, where beings keep their secrets, and their promises, and no one lies, or steals, or cheats.

She breathed out, smoke billowing like her mouth was the gates to the Christian’s hell—(they say hell hath no fury right?).

Sometimes she wished she had Zeus’s power; that she could set the world on fire with a glance.

A hundred.

The world was nothing but streaks of light across her vision. Not trees, people, and buildings; not distinguishable as life or meaning, just lines of color as she flew by. Maybe things were better that way. She could dance in the in-between, reach up and grab the ribbons, twirl around with them in beautiful absurdity. Only absurdity was beautiful; truth and sanity were far too ugly.

“Bunny I—”

“Don’t ‘Bunny’ me!”

She took another long draft, letting the smoke’s medicine filling her lungs.

And out.

Breathe out, feel the negative emotions leaving your body, all the meditation gurus say.

What a load of bullshit that was.

For every soothing inhale there was always an exhale that felt like it was clawing its way out of her throat. For every sweet hello there was a bitter goodbye, full of curses at his back, in return. For every incredible high there was a unfathomable price. That was the rule to life; what goes up, must come down.

And she had risen too high, once upon a time.

The test of life had no answer, let alone a right one. Even the gods were slaves to fate, and emotion.

The tires screeched hellishly as she rounded corner.

Hera walked around the corner.

“It just—I feel like the world’s on fire when I’m with him! You know?”

The queen stopped. It was that nymph’s voice. The one who came by earlier.

“Ahh I’m so jealous! Tell me more! Tell me!”

“Well he just…I don’t know! When he kisses me the whole world just kind of…stops. You know? And when he listens…I feel like he’s actually listening.”

“Ugh, too sappy! Tell me the dirty stuff!”

“Oh stop! I’m not gonna tell you about our sex life!”

Hera rolled her eyes, beginning to walk away when—

“Well he is the king of the gods. You’re right; It’s better if I imagine.”

The queen froze.

“Eugh I don’t want you imagining me in bed with him!”

“No, I’m imagining me in bed with him!”

Hera couldn’t hear them anymore. Couldn’t see the world in front of her. She was staring at a space before her eyes only she could see; a space, a memory, where the world was wide and she and Zeus were the only beings in it.

That space was shattering piece by piece.

Her breath was shallow in her chest, her blood pumping her ears.

“Mama?” Ares’ little voice brought her back to the world. “Mama, you’re hurting me.”

She immediately let go of her son’s tiny hand. “I’m so sorry sweetheart!” She crouched down and took his hand in both of hers, this time with the most gentleness she could muster, and kissed his fingers. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…‘m okay.” He took his hand back and rubbed it.

He looked at her apprehensively.

“…Are you okay, mama? …Are you angry?”

She whizzed passed broken stop sign, catching her reflection in the rear view mirror; her hair in tattered locks like rags about her face, eyebrows permanently furrowed, lip permanently pursued, blue eyes dim and hollow, with nothing of the brightness they once contained; only a few lingering sparks of electricity in an abandoned power plant.

‘Okay’. ‘Angry’.

Such ugly words.

“I just…” the golden girl pushed her hair behind her ear sheepishly, her eyes bright, “I feel like the world’s on fire when I’m with him…you know?”

“Can’t say I do,” Aidoneus muttered softly.

She put her gently hand on his. “Don’t worry, I know you will one day.” She grinned.

And what made it better was that she really meant that.

He tried to smile back.

“So what’s that…like?” he asked softly.

“Well…when he kisses me the world kind of …stops. It feels like there’s nothing and no one in the universe but him and me. We can talk about anything. And when I talk it feels like he actually listens. He always makes me laugh. When I’m with him…it feels like nothing else matters…”

She hated that word: okay. It was too simple, too easy; one could always throw it out as an answer. It didn’t mean, I’m doing very well, or I’m doing poorly—(though it could mean either depending on the context). Okay was just, ‘fine’, ‘alright’. Okay could mean you were doing wonderfully, having a great day, and okay could mean you would rather be dead, and either way people would smile and say good! I’m okay too!. Okay was never truly satisfied, never fully living. Just existing. ‘Okay’ was a word for ghosts; for those who are neither dead nor really alive, neither sinners nor saints. Just floating through the world, caught in between.

She was always okay…and she was never okay.

She rolled down the window, cool air rushing in to the car and scooping up all the smoke, taking it out into the night, giving it to some other lonely Goddess who needed it.

“Ugh, this again? I thought we were done with this…Just leave it for now. You’ll feel better after lunch.”

And, anger, anger was a fire that blossomed like a rose high, and bright, and scorching for a while, eating everything it saw. Then it dwindled. Sometimes it could be lit again by a passing breeze, if the embers were still fresh enough. And sometimes that relight could touch a passerby leaf or bush, and from there desecrate forests and cities. But often, even then, once it had finished blazing it would wither and die. Anger burned white hot and violent at first, but eventually it would fade, and the world would be left to deal with everything it blackened in its wake.

She sometimes had a vague image of smashing Zeus’s head in, of him clutching his big ugly skull, golden trails of blood intermixing with his violet hair, draining down his cheeks. And there she was, holding the stem of glass, half of the vase, in her hand, the rest of it in pieces all over the floor before them. Sometimes. Sometimes it felt good to take out all that anger out on innocent paintings. Sometimes she had to destroy something, before it destroyed her.

“You’re acting crazy.” He had said.

Crazy, was she?

Crazy for believing visions in her head, which were always right in the past? Crazy for being angry? For kicking him out? No.

Crazy for staying with a being like him?

Yes. If she was crazy, that was why.

If I’m crazy, well, then…

She smirked, taking a long draft, and letting it out, grey wisps filling the air around her.

Thanks, baby, I owe it all to you.

She had a faint recollection of being sane once. Before him. He always made her crazy, be it when she was first fell in love with him, or when she rose in hate for him. But there was a time, when, before all this, she was a sweet, naïve little golden girl in the forest, with her sanity in tact, who loved animals, and taking care of broken things, her innocence still put together.

He thought he knew crazy. He hadn’t even scratched the surface.

But then that impulse would fade as quickly as it came, and she was left with guilt for even thinking that way. She’d never do that. She might burn his picture, but she wouldn’t actually hurt him…would she? She hoped it would never get that far.

No. That was anger. The boiling thing rising inside her that made her want to smash, and spit in, his face, and burn paintings, that was anger. Anger rose, vehemently, but in the end it dissolved.

This was more than just anger.

This, this feeling; this dull resounding ache at the back of her consciousness like an unending death knell; this thing that bored a hole in her stomach, making her feel constantly sick; this thing that hung as a weight in her chest; this thing wrapping around her, chaining her wings; this thing that stained her eyes with sleeplessness; this thing that broke into her mind and ransacked her thoughts, tainting all those happy memories, making them seem diluted with lies, and sickening to think of, and never, ever left her house—

This was heartbreak. Eternal, infernal, heartbreak.

She was on a long stretch of road now, out where nature still bloomed and she didn’t have to look at anyone’s faces or talk to anyone. The ribbons of light still outlining the air—(was it two hundred now? She’d lost track.).

Lucky me.

Everyone always told her she was lucky. Not everyone got to be the wife of the king of the gods. Just her. She was lucky she had a husband who was powerful. Who was rich. She was lucky she had a husband who adored her. Who doted on her. Who listened to her. Who she could talk to. Who made her laugh.

Not everyone had that. Some had husbands who were poor. Who were weak. Who didn’t love them, and whom they didn’t love. Husbands who didn’t dote on them, or give them so much as a wanton kiss. Who fixed a permanent scowl on their faces. Who they couldn’t talk to. Husbands who lied to them, and cheated on them.

She was lucky she didn’t have that.

Not everyone got to be queen.

Lucky her. So lucky he chose her. So lucky she got the crown. No one else.

No one but her.

So lucky she had that handsome face to wake up to every day.

(Every damn day)

So lucky could talk to him every day. So lucky could kiss him, and hug him, and make love to him.

(Sometimes she couldn’t even look at him.)

So lucky she had Zeus. That goofy, dumb, brave, arrogant king as her better half. So lucky she had a husband who was so sweet, and kind, and gentle, and funny, and patient, and forgiving. So lucky she didn’t have had a cheating, lying, conniving, backstabbing little weasel for a husband, who put that crown on his head, and walked into his office like he owned the world—!

And he was the one person who could say he did. Including her. Sometimes she couldn’t say a word against him.

He owned the world. Along with every fucking girl in it.

And he did fuck them.

After it all, what would he say?

We all lie, so what? Something like that.

So what.

Him; the illustrious king with his throne, and his lightning. Her; a jealous queen with a stolen crown.

The only one to blame was herself.

“I just feel like everyone’s lying, everyone’s—!” the golden girl cried, her hands over her eyes.

Someone took her arm, someone whose grasp was gentle.

He put his finger on her chin, tipping her gaze up to him.

“I’d never lie to you.” Zeus said, giving a gentle smile.

And what made it better was he meant it.

She returned the smile, placing her hand over his. “Nor I to you.”

That naïve little ray of sunlight darkened by his moon.

We’ve both lied, so what? That would surely be his excuse.

“You know what?! Why don’t we talk about you for a change?”

He’d said he was sorry before. He’d promised to be better.

And she believed him, then.

He’d spent enough time telling the truth that she believed he meant it when he apologized. When he made promises. When he spoke to her, she thought he meant the things he said.

I cheated on you, I’m sorry.

I lied to you, I’m sorry.

Now she questioned everything he had ever said. His apologies, his promises, his compliments, his kisses. Were those words so long ago just another lie? His promise to never lie to her, was that just the first lie of a thousand? As numerous as the hours they spent together. Did he ever intend to keep his words back then?

That was the unfortunate thing about lies; they could reside in even the most sincere of promises.

I’m sorry.

(I’m not sorry.)

Long ago she’d wanted him to apologize. She’d been more than desperate to hear those words falling from his lips.

Now she knew they meant nothing. They could, and usually would, be just another lie. And, even if he meant them, they wouldn’t fix this aching hole he’d left in her chest.

She remembered herself at her wedding; them, the picture of a perfect, royal couple, his violet a compliment to her gold. Both of them practically shimmering, wearing traditional wedding attire—(though impossibly embellished and adorned)—and those goofy, light-filled smiles. The whole pantheon applauding, smiling, wiping away tears at their back.

In other countries, at weddings, they said they’d be together in sickness and health, till death did them part.

Did this count as sickness? As death?

Didn’t he break that promise? Did her promises matter after he broke his? Was her faith and faithfulness worth nothing anymore?

She now imagined herself in a black dress, standing at the back of that ceremony with a bow, and an arrow made of adamant, laced with the venom from a certain many headed monster, its gleam reflected in darkened gaze. She breathed out as they spoke, and loosed that arrow, shooting that girl in the back. Olympus shouted in vain, as she watched all that gold flow out of her past self, those blue eyes fade to a cool grey, keeping her from making the biggest mistake of her life. And she’d look at Zeus’ horrified face and think

I’m sorry.

(I’m not sorry.)

That was surely better than this. Better than dying slowly, the blue in her eyes dimming day by day into lifeless grey still animated somehow, better than that gold leaking out of her with each forsaken sunrise she woke up next to him.

Would he be happy then? Without her? He could fuck around with whoever he wanted.

Would she be happier, dead, without all this?

There was no way she could have known, back then what their lives would become after a few millennia. How that god who held her hands and said he’d never lie to her, who hugged her and kissed her, and seemed so in love, could become dissatisfied. That lust would overtake him; he’d keep wanting more and more, gorging himself on it. She had no way of knowing that she wouldn’t be enough one day.

She was young, and innocent then, and didn’t know better.

She couldn’t forgive herself for that.

Something flashed gold in the headlights before her, and for a second her mind manifested before her; she saw that golden girl still, her own hair draining down the street like liquid, that white wedding attire—old, ragged, covered in burns—her own naïve eyes, still full of light and life, staring up at her, terror overtaking their innocent frames. And her own eyes boiled.

The sound of breaking glass was like a cooling rain upon a fire that had been left raging too long.

*****

Zeus was doing important business work. Focus was imperative.

Someone knocked on the door. “Your majesty.”

He fumbled with the spinner he was playing with, dropping it on the floor, sitting upright. He folded his hands on the desk, clearing his throat, trying to look professional.

“Yes? If it’s Hermes wanting to install racing tracks in the sky again—”

“Uh, n-no,” the messenger poked her head in the door, looking nervous, “It’s… about your wife.”

He blinked, then sighed, leaning back in his chair. “…What’s does she want this time?”

“Um…” she swallowed, avoiding his gaze, “S-She’s been in a car accident.”

*****

Notes cont.: Do you guys have any ideas for what song I could use for Zeus for the next chapter? (I want the next chapter to be framed like this one--based around a song, but for him, and from his perspective.) Let's see...In the simplest terms, I'm looking for a song about someone who knows they've made mistakes and/or hurt someone, and wants to do better. It doesn't have to be kpop, it can be anything XD

I'm not sure if this fic makes it seem like I hate Zeus and think she should ditch him or something...I really really don't. That's kind of the point; I actually like him a lot, and am very excited to write his chapter. Hera is just (understandably, and rightfully so) really angry with him for treating her so poorly. and I was trying to convey that to the best of my abilities...but it does make him seem pretty douchey (and, let's be fair, he definitely can be). Their relationship is broken indeed...but I hope it's not beyond repair. (though...the myths don't give me much hope...).

Speaking of the myths, I know Zeus and Hera might not have been in love in the way I describe in this. I'm not very familiar with their early relationship in the myths, but let's just say I know them getting married certainly wasn't all sunshine and roses. And Rachel's been pretty accurate to the myths in her own way, so it may be true of them in LO too. But when LO Hades was talking about them in the past I kinda got the impression maybe they were at least somewhat in love, so I decided to go that route. Also, I don't know if using Ares' in the memory places things to early, I might change it to Hebe later...I just like the symbolism of using Ares, especially as I have him acting very differently then we know him as. I might decide to alter parts of this fic if and when she reveals more about their early relationship though, especially if this ends up being super inaccurate...

Sorry, I'm rambling now XD

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the fic!! I'd really apprecaite it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog to show your support!!!

[lunaticlua]

how do you make a home? // part 5

series masterlist

also available on ao3

a/n: this chapter is probably one of the heaviest of this story. i tried to keep the description to its minimal, but the subject still is a difficult one. so, please be careful and prioritize your mental health as always.

tw: description of parents' death involving gun violence and blood

additional note: the title of the chapter is from 'the valley' by ethan gruska

gif by @toesure

chapter 5: and if childhood defines you, can it ever be behind you?

“there is a wall in my life built by you, you opened a door that a kid shouldn’t walk through” (guiltless – dodie)

The cup falls to ground as her eyes start watering and she blames the tears on the spilled water and broken glass. She rapidly knells down to clean up the mess with her bare hands in an attempt to silence an intruding voice of the past muttering “What did I do?” repeatedly. Before she can hurt herself with the sharp objects on the floor, an unknown hand stops her. Lulu takes more than she should to remember herself of the blonde boy’s presence.

He studies her with regret and concern on his face. But rather than calming her, it triggers the memory she is fighting to suffocate. The person in front of her is no longer JJ, the sixteen years old boy who makes her heart jump and her walls crumple. Suddenly, instead of being in Uncle Joe’s house, where she is safe and sound, she travels back to the place where it all happened, where she lost everything in one night. When she looks up from the chaos on the kitchen floor, she sees him. The man she once knew as dad, her beloved father who was the best man on Earth in her childish mind. The man she now referred to as Paul Jones, the one who murdered her mom.

She nervously gets up and takes several steps back, distancing herself from the tall, lean man. She watches his blood-soaked hands, a recently used gun on his right one and his insane expression. She lowers her eyes and where was the broken glass and spilled water she sees her mother bleeding on the living room’s navy-blue carpet of her childhood house. Falling to her knees, she tries to stop the blood from escaping her mother’s body as she had many years ago without success. She feels the woman who taught how to love and to be loved perishing on her arms.

She glances at her father, murmuring to himself. “What did I do? What did I do?” She tries to stop herself from saying because she knows the result of it. However, she listens to her voice screaming, even though she is aware that she didn’t open her mind. “What did you do? You killed her. You killed my mom!”

When she sees that look of regret and concern on the man’s face which she is too familiar with from her innumerous nightmares and troubling memories, she closes her eyes and puts her hands on her ears, bracing herself for what is about to happen. But the sound of gunshot never comes.

A soothing hand, so much different from the ones who caused all of this, touches her shoulders lightly. A worried but loving voice calling her comes through. When she opens her tired eyes, they meet ocean blue’s ones. She is back to the present time, breathing and free from harm.

“Lulu,” JJ breathes, taking her hands away from her ears and interlocking them with his own. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just appear out of nowhere and approach this subject.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t,” she answers earnestly after a beat. Noticing his growing remorse, she tries to smile, but ends up grimacing.

“I am really sorry. I didn’t think.”

“It is okay.”

“It is not, though. I know that it sucks to be forced to talk about something you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have done this to you.” He moves his thumb in a circular motion, trying to comfort her. “I know sorry doesn’t fix it, but I am. Sorry, I mean.”

“I know,” she moves her eyes to the awaiting mess on the kitchen, thinking she will need to get to it soon. As if reading her mind, he gets up and offers his hands for help. “I’ll clean up this mess and leave you alone, okay?”

“Don’t,” she mumbles, staring at her unlaced shoes.

“What? No, don’t think of contradicting me. It is my fault and I will clean it.”

She inhales and exhales and then look at him again with pleading eyes. “You can clean if you want. But don’t go. Stay, please. I don’t want to be alone.” JJ weighs down his answer for a couple of moments, making sure that he is welcomed, and simply nods. “I will wait for you on my bedroom.”

Ten minutes later, she is sitting on her bed, playing with the golden necklace that used to be her mother’s and Auntie Rita gave to her on her first birthday away from Outer Banks. This little piece of her mother had helped her many times, grounding her. In that moment, her head is at ease but far away, and she almost doesn’t notices the boy entering. He smiles shyly and she responds it by smiling back at him and gesturing for him to sit next to her, which seems to surprise him.

But what genuinely dumbfounds him is her soft speaking words. “I want to tell you. What happened, you know? I want to tell you.”

“Lulu, you don’t have to. I am sorry if I pressured you before, but you don’t have to.”

“JJ, you are not pressuring me. I want to. I really do,” she declares confidently, even though the prospect of telling it scares her.

“Are you sure?”

“No. But I want to, anyway.” He seems hesitant, but motions to her speak. “What do you know?”

He recounts what he had learnt from Pope that day and what heard around town when it happened, choosing the best words he can to not upset her even more. Her father shot her mother and then killed himself in front of his nine years old daughter. In front of her. When he finishes, he sees a pained expression on her face, but, before he can start apologizing, she speaks.

“He was drunk,” she states and stays silent for a minute or two. When she opens her mouth to continue, he can see a single tear escaping her left eye. He moves to clean it before he can think it through, and her glistening eyes seem grateful for his caring attitude. “He used to drink. Not a lot. Just a normal amount on barbecues and parties. I have never seen him drunk. I don’t know why he had so much to drink that night. But he did and he got mad at my mom.

“I was in my room when he arrived. I think I was reading or something dumb like that. I remember hearing them fighting—They didn’t fight normally, you know? They used to argue sometimes, but they rarely screamed at each other. I can see now that my mom was afraid of him, but I never saw it when I was a kid. She… She used to have many secrets with me. Things that made him upset, but she still wanted to do. Like teaching me Portuguese, buying me ice cream before lunch, teaching music to some children around the island. He didn’t like those stuff and she hid it from him, so he didn’t get mad.

“That night, I got really scared because of the fighting. They rarely screamed and they were screaming so much. So, I decided to go downstairs. I was almost arriving on the living room when I heard— When I heard the—,” she stops abruptly, and he takes her hands again. “The gunshot. I run towards them and I saw her there. Pale. Bloodied. In her last breaths,” she hiccups with tears all across her face.

“Lulu, you don’t need to continue.”

She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, denying. “I need this. I really do,” he cleans her cheeks with one of his hands and squeezes hers with his other one. “Her heart stopped right after. Then, I looked at him. At my father. He was freaked out and mumbling and walking from one side to the other. I don’t think that he had noticed me there until I spoke. I asked what he had done. I accused him of killing her, which he did do. And then he— He—You know. I was there and I stayed there the whole night. I just couldn’t move or speak or do something. I just stayed there. Our house was a little far away from the others. So, no one heard the gunshots. Uncle Joe found me there the next morning. My mom was supposed to meet him, and she didn’t come.”

Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy when she stops talking. His heart breaks some more with the sight of her. Small, defenseless, crying in front of him. Sensing that she had finished retelling the traumatic event, he asks permission with his eyes to hug her and she nods. Their embrace lasts a couple of minutes, but it seems like hours. With her head placed at the crook of his neck, she truly relaxes for the first time that day. He smells of weed, ocean salty water and sunscreen. Being hugged by him feels like coming home after a long time away and she wants it to last forever. In that moment, JJ realizes that he would be willing to do anything to keep her safe and close to him like this.

“just know you're not alone 'cause i'm going to make this place your home” (home – phillip phillips)

[bigfan-fanfic]

Dank? (Batdad!Reader Headcanons)

Requested by @yesthetrashbin for how batdad embarrasses Bruce and the Batboys with puns, jokes, and meme references

I do apologize - I am so not caught up on memes.

You know how when the newscasters start using memes, it’s basically a death knell?

Like, “Citizens are saying, ‘Bye, Felicia’ to summer with a Labor Day bash...”

That’s you.

Being a celebrity, it means that you are more often a meme than a user of memes.

For example, you and Bruce went on the G. Gordon Godfrey Show once (big mistake), and when the host went in for a hug you basically stabbed him in the gut with you hand meant for a handshake

It went viral with the caption “tfw your drunk uncle tries to hug you”

Frequently people post GIFs of your face as reactions.

Jason pretty much loves this, and his official social media (before he dies, when he comes back he has to start a fake one) is a main producer of Y/N Wayne Reaction GIFs

But even more embarrassing, somehow, than being a meme is when you try to use one.

You and Damian are the most behind at memes. It’s hard keeping track when you spend all day and night working. Also, patrol tends to be more interesting for you than memes.

Tim is the most hip. He’s always scanning the Internet, so he knows what’s up.

Speaking of, you taught Damian to say “whasssssuuuuup” and Tim didn’t speak to you for a month.

Dick and Jason groan a lot during patrol.

Because you often react to villainous monologues with archaic meme references.

“Scarecrow’s gonna gas the city? Ermagerhd!”

“ugh”

Mainly you do it to annoy them. You are responsible for the revival of the “trollface” meme. You monster.

But the best (or worst) part is your constant punning.

It can be glorious at times

It can be hellishly awful at others.

Mixed reactions. Dick is a giggler. Damian snorts, trying to stop himself (he’s a sucker for wordplay). Tim groans without fail. Jason will either silent eye-roll or burst out in high-pitched hoots. There is no in between,

You do a Steve Irwin impression whenever Killer Croc comes into view.

When chasing Poison Ivy:

“Hey, Red Robin. Why did Poison Ivy change her clothes?”

“Ugh. Why?”

“Because she SOILED them!”

“Ugh....”

“Hey, Nightwing. Why is Two-Face the best villain?”

“Why?” Dick asks warily.

“Because he’s not HALF-bad!”

Both of you giggle like freaks.

“Hey, hey, Robin. Where does Batman go pee?”

“Is this really appropriate?”

“C’mon!”

“TT, very well. Where does Batman urinate?”

“In the bat-room.”

Damian knows it’s awful. But he can’t help it. He starts snorting and then laughs.

“Red Hood. Why is Batman really a kleptomaniac?”

“What?”

“You heard.”

Silence. Then: “Fi-i-ine. I’ll bite.”

“Because he can’t go anywhere without Robin!”

Silence. Crickets.

“You’re so embarrassing.”

“I know.”

Bruce is very good at keeping the smilies down. But sometimes, something weird just gets him. 

Bruce is talking with you about patrol. “The Joker hasn’t been active for a while.”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “You know what that means.”

He gives you the side-eye. “What?”

“He’s probably riding his Harley.”

Bruce snorts so hard he chokes, and then guffaws. A good ten minutes later he glares hard at you.

“The boys can’t know.”

You shrug.

“Who would believe me?”

They call it embarrassing, but they love your stupid jokes.