#I forgot I had a new idea and pulled up a new document to write in a frenzy

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Me: I have a few FitPac ideas but I don't think I've written that much.

The document:

[hedwigoprah]

A Word with Friends | June 2

Hello Hello! I'm finally back at it and writing for prompts again! Yay! I thought I'd hop back in with a word that y'all might enjoy. This week's word is one I've used before. Someone even called my use of it slutty which I then proceeded to print out and put on my wall to document the occasion you know who you are.

Don't worry though, I wrote something brand new to fit it, and all of the AWWF words I missed during the month of May.  I'm dropping this a little early cause it's technically also a submission for last week's word too. But no pressure, no rush.  SO! Without further adieu, the word for this week is:

Avarice

1. Excessive or inordinate desire of gain; greed for wealth 2. Inordinate desire for some supposed good.

My submission and tags are under the cut ;)  1.7k words jsyk

This particular work is all original, but it does reference Children of the Dark, so there are a few names you may not recognize. They're from Veryl's history.

Yeah?" Veryl called out as she sorted through the papers in front of her. When the meditation room had echoed with the knock, she had startled and tossed the stack she had in her hands. She stooped now to retrieve the scattered parchment. The door creaked open and Bellara's head popped out from around the corner it created. "Rook? Can I bother you about something? Just, if you have the time? I completely understand if you're doing something else." She still stood in the doorway, hand poised to pull the door shut if Veryl requested she leave. Veryl looked from the papers she had corralled into a somewhat organized stack and then back to her visitor. Others still lay out of her reach. So, out of frustration with the task rather than the interruption, she dropped the ones she had collected and decided to just pick them all up later. "Yes, please bother me." She stepped over the newly dispersed mess to pull the door open further and invite in her guest, waving her further into the room. Bellara brought with her some parchment of her own, along with a quill and an ink pot. It wasn't hard to guess at the motives behind her sudden visit. Veryl second guessed her choice, wary of how the fanciful would-be author had been speaking of her writing endeavors. Veryl wasn't sure she was in healthy enough place to be considered good subject matter. "What can I do for you?" Veryl closed the door and leaned against it as she considered her friend. She decided that something off-the-wall might be exactly the distraction she needed. "Well, first," Bellara started, and Veryl mentally prepared for the particular ten thousand words she would be inundated with. "I hope you don't mind but I was trying to write down that story you told us the other day, the one about the body swap? It was so intriguing, I just can't imagine not having it down on paper. I'll make sure it only stays in our records, but I thought it was worth remembering, you know? I ran into a bit of a roadblock though, there are so many details that I could never repeat the way you did. So I was wondering if I could pick your brain about it? Unless you want me to stop, and then I'll stop. I'll even throw everything I have into the fire so no one will ever find it."

Veryl felt her mouth slacken only a bit before she checked herself and corrected her features before they could betray her shock. Her eyebrows still shot up her face, something she couldn't prevent as hard as she tried. She also forgot what a normal amount of blinking should look like.

"You know what!" Bellara threw her free hand up, waving a finger about as she started to backtrack. "I shouldn't have even started writing it down. I knew it was private story and I should have let it stay that way. I'm sorry, Rook. I'll be going now." Veryl had to give credit to Bellara's perspicaciousness, already changing course because of Veryl's obvious unease with the idea. There wasn't an ounce of maliciousness or victim-hood in Bellara's words either, the apology was genuine she could tell that much. Veryl was already shaking her head as Bellara made for the door, reaching for the handle. On a laugh, she stopped the other woman from trying to leave. She placed a gentle hand on her arm and gave her a meaningful look. "I don't mind, Bellara, I promise." And Veryl thought a big part of her meant it. She was safe with these people. Bellara herself was in possession of this particular kind of effusive apricity that set a person at ease without even trying. For the next several hours, Veryl let Bellara pick and pull at different threads of the story she shared. Bellara was gentle with her questions and they never veered further into the weeds. Veryl was never required to divulge more than she already had. They sprawled out across the rug in front of the sofa. This time papers were scattered, but in an organized fashion that Veryl could not make heads nor tales of, but Bellara danced between effortlessly. Veryl talked about her teammates in vague terms, describing them only as characters in a story rather than people she spent a formative amount of time with. She spoke about Jeltje's gruffness, Heinrich's strength of character, and even Detre's cunning. In this moment, they were nothing more than descriptions and words, it was easier that way. "What about your other teammate, the one you don't mention very much?" Bellara was on her stomach, concentrating on writing what Veryl provided verbally. Veryl meanwhile kept her arms wrapped around one of her pillows, her fingers toying with the tassels that hung from the corners. "Nocturna?" Veryl clarified and Bellara nodded, lifting her face to give her full attention. Veryl didn't really know how to describe the most elusive member of her team. Nocturna had been mysterious and secretive at the best of times, and down right enigmatic and recondite at the worst. "I think Nocturna…" Veryl tried to sort out the words she knew that could even begin to describe the woman. "I think she scared me more than anything else." Veryl laughed at the absurdity of it. For all the malcontent spirits, child-sized bugs, and vile villains she had come up against, nothing could unsettle her the way Noturna could with just a withering look. "I wasn't exaggerating when I said she just appeared during the blood rain. She moved like… a susuration of a living person. You can't track her with your eyes or your ears. Even if you thought you felt her presence, for a second, like a chill up your spine, she's already gone." It was unnerving the way Nocturna had just flowed through existence. "She made me look like a clumsy baby, just learning to walk." Bellara gave her a confused look, as though she couldn't comprehend the idea, but kept writing anyway. "She was slick with a blade and killed without thinking twice about it. I was a weapon, sure, but she was poison."

Veryl finally took note of her own demeanor, having zoned in on a particular pattern in the rug that had started move as her vision grew blurry with lack of focus. She snapped back into reality before Bellara could notice her abstraction. "That's really all I can say." Veryl begged off when Bellara looked to her for more. She gave her a small apologetic smile. "That's perfect, Rook. I'll be able to describe her much better now." Bellara dipped her quill another time before reaching for a piece of paper that already had some other scribbles that rambled across it. "I just have one last question." "Shoot." Veryl allowed, tossing the pillow down and crawling to her own stomach. She propped herself up and watched as Bellara scritched new words across the paper in front of her. "What was the exact speech you gave as the Spectre? Do you remember?" As if she would ever forget those words. A warning she had since repeated, though perhaps in not so many words, but the sentiment was one that she had made sure certain persons would be sure not to forget. From somewhere deep inside the darkest parts of her soul, Veryl brought forward something that felt like a mockery of her evolution as a person. The Spectre felt weird on her skin, but still fit like a shadow she would never fully be rid of. In her best imitation of the ghost she once was, she repeated the words that had cemented her place as nothing more than Necropolis folklore. "I see you. I hear your weeping and groaning. The being you mourn would impart you with a final word. Seek honor, truth, and kindness and blessings will be your boon but if avarice fills your soul, you shall only find your doom." Coming back to herself, she gave Bellara a sanguine smile, relaxing back into her own current skin. Bellara returned the smile before she finished her latest line, sighed, and shifted positions to sit back on her haunches.

"You know," she started as she began to gather all of her papers into a single stack. "I'd really think that speech was much scarier if I hadn't seen Emmrich chase you to your room in nothing but your underwear." This time Veryl let her jaw drop open. "You…?!" True shock had Veryl sitting up and trying to cover herself as though she wasn't fully clothed. "It was the middle of the night, no one was supposed to be awake." Bellara danced around her eye contact with Veryl, her eyes shifting in nervousness as she spoke. "Let's just say that I know I wasn't the only one not getting any sleep." Bellara was quickly scrambling to her feet, dodging the pillows that Veryl playfully threw her way. "But don't worry! I definitely didn't write any of that down!" Veryl paused in her cushion assault to question her friend, "Really?" Bellara had moved quickly, nearing the door with alacrity Veryl only saw her move with in the field. She was very near the door when she turned to give Veryl an answer. "No, I lied." She grinned sheepishly, a crimson blush dusting her cheeks. "I wrote all of it down. OkaythanksfortalkingtomeRook! Haveagoodeveningbye!" Bellara was out the door before the final pillow could hit it's intended target. Instead it thudded against the door that had been slammed shut and fell uselessly to the ground.

Gentle, loving tags for you my friends: @strugglinggranola @serensama @tkwritesdumbassassins  @tacoteddy22 @thecraftybaroness @himluv @notyourmamasdeerbat @bubblecat-co @mythals-whore @operative-arrow @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @seaglassmelody  @davrinsleftpectoral @biowaredisasterbisexual @woundedsoul12 @jenn2d2 @arisofsky, @kai-dimir, @purple-frost @pixiedurango @thedissonantverses

Happy writing folks!

Trivia for your time: The average golf ball has 336 dimples

[galaxymagitech]

For the writer ask game - 1 & 23!

I am so sorry for taking...*checks the date in horror*...over two weeks to respond. Thank you so much for your ask!!!

Writer Ask Game

1. Tell us about your current project(s)--what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

My longest-running project is Through the Twisted Mirror, which is a dark universe/evil Bruce AU. I haven't updated it in about 6 months, because in a couple chapters a character is supposed to get tortured and I can't for the life of me figure out how I want to write it. It's a thing that happens in the story and is narratively important, and I am comfortable with writing torture scenes and have done so a couple times before, but I don't really want to write it out in detail. And I'm worried that it will make the story darker than people signed up for originally. But it also feels bizarre to skip it when it happens. I just don't know. And that's stalled me for a while.

I've also diverged pretty far from my original plans so I'm not entirely sure how to pull everything together in the end and have a final confrontation that isn't a total beatdown.

I'm currently also working on another multi-chapter fic, once you cross the line (will you be satisfied?), which is a Stephanie Brown-centric TimSteph Mob AU. I'm going slow but steady with the chapters--currently 4/8 are posted and 6/8 are drafted. And again, my problem is that I haven't decided how graphically to write torture. This fic has given me a chance to go outside my comfort zone and try writing something new, which I appreciate. Like, I am not a TimSteph shipper, I wrote them because it's narratively convenient for the fic. But trying to make their romance feel authentic has been a great experience.

And stuck in my drafts...Better Than Batman, which is a very philosophical Jason Todd fic where he and the rest of the Batfamily discuss their views on killing. It's about a third to halfway written. And honestly I forgot about it until answering this question.

Jason Todd Week is...not even started. I haven't even started planning for it. I'm probably going to wing it. And I need to start working on Duke Thomas Week, but that's just nebulous ideas right now.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

In the DC fandom? Probably Through the Twisted Mirror, but that's not exactly in my head anymore. The longest inside the DC fandom that hasn't been published or written would probably be "Tim doesn't go to boarding school and ends up documenting Gotham's mysteries and fixing its curse through the power of statistics and chemistry."

Outside the DC fandom, I had an idea about versions of Mabel and Dipper Pines from throughout Gravity Falls' fandom AUs (specifically, Reverse Falls, Monster Falls, Relativity Falls, and the main universe), working together to save Gravity Falls from the multiverse collapsing. Eventually, they create this "universal" Gravity Falls that's a whole world of its own with all the AUs combined. I wrote the epilogue, but never the fic, because I realized that it's really freaking hard to write a story where 16 different characters have the same four names.

I've also had this idea for a while of an MCU AU where superheroes are mostly fake: "The Avengers, as the world knows them, are a lie. Iron Man is a cover, Captain America is history students’ version of fanfiction, Hawkeye is a society of archers messing around, Thor is a prank, Hulk is special effects, and Black Widow is the CIA agent running the show. But when teenage Peter Parker decides that he’s going to become a superhero, the Avengers are at a loss—how can they convince him to back down without revealing that superheroes don’t exist?" I might write it someday, if I ever return to the MCU fandom. Who knows.

[kodacozy]

Kyoya smut/fluff headcanons or a one shot? if not Kyoya, could it be L from Death Note?

Of course! Thank you for the request! I went ahead and did headcannons for both :)

Kyoya Ootori

○ Do not date a host if you get insecure

○ this boy struggles with self expression. He can be kind but it will be in private

○ A hand hold alone in a classroom, a quick peck in the music room while he's doing expense reports

○ When word broke you two were dating, he expected to lose business, however quite the opposite happened

○ apparently these girls liked the idea of fighting for a man

○ Plus now they see that dating a host is possible

○ business boomed so the club got a happy Kyoya for a couple weeks

○ He will not stand for bullying, he has watchdogs making sure no other person is harassing you for dating him

○ He was nervous about introducing you to the club, luckily things went fine at first

○ He did smack Tamaki over the head with his notebook for flirting with you

○ He send you flowers constantly, every week you have a new bouquet at your door "To show how my love for you blossoms-Kyoya" on a little attached card

○ after a while of dating he will bring you home, he likes to lay in bed with you, just running his fingers through your hair

○ "Will you come join me tomorrow for lunch, my love?" He'll ask quietly while holding you. And he'll smile and hum at your affirmation

🚫🔞🚫 smut ahead!!

● More of a soft dom, bc of his father he doesn't like being too physically rough with someone.

● Big into dirty talk. he loves to say things that'll make your heart race

● Doesn't care about body size, big, little, he's probably seen a lot considering who he is, so no judgment

● Loves it when you dress up for him, not some skimpy lingerie though, he likes something classier. A neglige with some intricate bottoms maybe.

● He is assertive, won't yell, but he is naturally intimidating so he'll stare you down until you're squirming

● "You look cute," with a smirk and a raised brow "All for me?"

● !GROANS! not super vocal during it, but he groans low and long

● when he finishes he always make sure to pull out (even wearing a condom)

● Sorry if it disappoints, he can't risk a child with his families status.

● awkward with aftercare, he'll try though and bring you a clean damp rag and a water

● he'll have a servant bring some fruit and sweets up for you both afterwards

● Will hold you and kiss you until you fall asleep

he's a good boyfriend. Make sure to give him his space now and then, be honest, and give him time to be vulnerable and you two have a bright future!

L/Lawliet

○ You two met because of the police

○ Matsuda forgot some important documents and they sent you, the receptionist to deliver them

○ Wrong place wrong time

○ you were quickly apprehended by L's security and brought to an interrogation room

○ the officers working on the case saw you and cleared the confusion, due to the breach though he had you in a monitored room

○ L gave you a formal apology in writing and had it delivered to your room

○ You wrote a letter back and thats how this relationship started

○ He would watch you smile and wrote your letters to him

○ eventually you meet in person he was scared you'd be put off by his appearance and mannerisms, however you still smiled and bowed

○ He invited you to his observation room, a tower of sweets beside him, he sits down and you follow suit

○ You two talk for hours and enjoy the treats

○ as the night creeps on you decide to return to your room, standing up you lean over and kiss his cheek

○ once you're out of the room he reaches up and cups his face where you kissed

○ "I could actually fall for her..." He stares off, brain working at nitro speeds

○ "Watari? Tomorrow send a car for Mrs. y/n please, I'd like to take her to dinner."

○ no publicity, however he doesn't mind being close to you around his team

○ likes when you sit on his lap (you can't be too big for this man)

🚫🔞🚫 smut ahead!!

● Very soft and easy going

● he isn't experienced at all but he does plenty of research to make up for it

● makes sure he has all of the appropriate items to give you a good time

● he's a munch

● likes to lay down and have you sit on his face, he'll be content for hours

● Definitely has a thing for breeding

● He loves the idea of having a family with you and caring for you as his life partner

● He talks quite warm when you two are in the act

● Light moans and sighs

● Likes to hold you close, favorite position is you in his lap so he can hug you

● goes wild when you blow him

● hands gripping his desk, head thrown back

● one day you slide under his desk and pull his cock out, came immediately at the thought of being caught

● great at aftercare, holds you, gives you water and food, covers you in blankets and turns on the TV so you can cuddle up for a little while

He is a great boyfriend. When you see him that is. He is dedicated in every sense of the word. He will never cheat on you, but you may go awhile without talking to him. Hang tight for this to be over and your relationship will be stronger than ever

[skyrim-forever]

TESFest Day 3: Teeth

Hi everyone, I got this idea and couldn't get it out of my head! I'd also like to dedicate this piece to @argisthebulwark as it features their special guy Brynjolf. You've brought me so much joy with your writing so I wanted to begin to return the favour with this short little piece <3 (also Brynjolf is so fun to write I'm def gonna write more with him).

Prompt: Teeth

Tagging: @tes-summer-fest

Words: 498

Warnings: T, suggestive but not much.

The Cistern was a buzz with celebration in honour of the newest recruit’s latest job. It hadn’t been an easy one, that’s why Brynjolf assigned it to them; they had shown a natural talent that day in the Market. And after a few jobs, the Master Thief figured they could take on something a bit more intense. 

The job involved a trip to Solitude, into the East Empire Company headquarters  to locate some documents of a visiting company member. From there, they were instructed to steal the documents from the safe, as well as steal a necklace. Whether or not they were interested in cleaning the place out, he left that up to them. He also added a little… challenge, if they found themselves so inclined. 

“Ey, supposedly the man has two gold teeth” he said. They turned their head quickly in his direction. 

“Is that a challenge Brynjolf?” He shoots them a grin and places a hand on the small of their back as he passes by.

“Think of it as a chance to prove your stuff.”

Whether or not they ‘proved their stuff’ remained to be seen, but they did succeed in getting the necklace and the document from the headquarters with none the wiser. And for that Brynjolf was impressed. After a few rounds of drinks, they wander over to him. Their normal saunter exaggerated due to their success. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order, well done.” 

“The pleasure is all mine Brynjolf.” They offer him a small bow complete with a wide grin on their face. “But don’t think I forgot about your little challenge.” Oh he’s intrigued. Dipping to the side pockets of their guild armour, they pull out two pieces of gold that shine in the candlelight of the Cistern. “You even managed to take the man’s teeth, I gotta say I’m impressed.” Brynjolf took both teeth in his hands, tossing them slightly in the air. “Any chance you’ll tell me how you walked out without him noticing?” They catch the teeth mid-air. 

“Oh you know me Brynjolf, I never kiss and tell.” They gave him a smirk while brushing their hand slowly across his armour. He decides to match their energy by grabbing the hand on his chest, placing a chaste kiss on it. 

“Is that so?” They hum a bit under his touch, placing one hand on his side and moving the other from his face to shoulder. 

“Everyone’s gotta have their secrets, you of all people should know that Brynjolf.” Just as he was going to make a move, close the distance between them, they slink away. He lets his eyes linger on their form a little too long, as he watches them rejoin their friends. It is only when he reaches into his side pocket, does Brynjolf know something is missing. They had pickpocketed him! Brynjolf lets out a dry chuckle, serves me right for letting my guard down. This new recruit was sure going above in beyond.

[rogerswifesblog]

This or that?

Drabble for “It’s all about the…”

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

A/N: I totally forgot to post this a few weeks ago! This came to us while talking about TikTok’s I think? I’m not sure anymore but @jamneuromain came up with this hilarious tiktok idea with Steve and reader 🤣 I’m actually thinking about making a whole Drabble list about all the TikTok’s Steve would do - there are a lot, trust me🤣

Pairing: stripper Steve Rogers x Sugar Mommy Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Steve has a new tiktok idea, one that includes his dear Sugar Mommy.

Steve had another great idea.

He wanted to take part in a Tiktok trend about this or that question.

The rules? None, actually. Just standing in the middle of the frame, writing above some choices and pointing at the one applying to his liking.

So here he was, begging you to take part in it, not knowing what for exactly.

“Come on, you just have to walk up to me and pull out of the frame-preferably at the collar. Twice. You’ll know when-it’ll be fun”, he tried to change your mind, sitting on your desk, right on the documents you were supposed to sign. Which you now couldn’t do, because he planted his ass on them. Thank god he had clothes on.

This time.

Sighing you looked up at him, a huge grin was on his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You could tell he had planned something, but you couldn’t deny him anything if you had to be honest.

“Fine…just stand up and stop sitting on my stuff when you need my attention. I really need to sign those”, hearing your words steve immediately stood up, planted a quick kiss on your lips then cheek and walked away.

“I’ll be waiting in the living room!”, he called out before leaving your office.

A soft, fond smile crept onto your lips as you watched him before finishing looking over the documents and siging all of them. It only took you a few minutes before you walked to the living room, watching Steve slightly confused as he sat up his phone.

A hanger with your black dress in his hand, heels in the other one.

“What….why are you holding up my-” “please put it on, Mommy…please for me”, he nearly begged you, already handing you both of the things. You sighed but took it anyway. You really should start denying him stuff more often.

Taking of your shirt and pants you slipped into the dress. A smile crept onto your lips. You had worn it at one of your first dates with Steve, a black dress with a low cut showing off your shoulders and collarbones. The usual louboutin heels you loved wearing. “Could you put this on too?”, Steve held out his hand to you, the pearl necklace you rarely wore in his palm.

A chuckle escaped your lips and you took the necklace with a head shake. “Fine but help me with it”, with that you turned around and let him put it on around your neck.

When you turned around Steve held up a pair of long black velvet gloves. “Where did you get-“ “I bought them. Can you put them on?”, while asking he was already taking your hand and helping you putting the gloves on, which wasn’t that easy with two people doing it.

“Steve-wait-let me-“, after a little struggle of getting your hand back you managed to put the gloves on, now finally being dressed to Steve’s liking judging by his happy grin. “Perfect. Now wait and grab me when I tell you to”, with that he walked over to his phone and started the recording.

Slightly confused you watched as he walked from one side to the other for no reason, always looking up for a second as if reading something.

Jesus.

You were really getting too old for this stuff.

Then a few moments later he just looked around standing in the middle of the frame. “Now”, he mumbled and as if on command you walked over to him, grabbing him by the collar and pulling out of the frame.

Before you could even ask him anything he took off his hoodie, messed up his hair a bit more and walked back into the frame to show his white shirt with a writing on it. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly reading it before remembering he wanted you to pull him out of the frame twice so you walked over to him again, repeating what you did before, but this time you decided to grab him by the throat.

“So now tell me-” “thank you”, he interrupted you, wrapping his arm around you and kissing you passionately, nearly taking your breath away. God, he was an amazing kisser.

A few seconds later he leaned back again, watching you a bit. A smirk creeping on his lips. “You’re hot, you know?”, grinning he started pulling your dress up, while pushing you against the counter. “Let me show you how hot I think you are…”, he mumbled against your neck while slowly sinking to his knees.

Well, the questions would have to wait.

Next day you were just coming back from work, a sweet smell hitting you as soon as you walked into your shared home. Did Steve bake something? Smiling you took of your heels and jacket and walked into the kitchen where Steve was leaning against the counter. “Hello beautiful”, he greeted you, pulling you into a hug. “Hi Baby, am I smelling a brownie or am I delusional?”, you grinned against his chest, the rumble of his laugh making you grin even more.

“You’re not delusional…not yet at least. I posted the tiktok and it went viral so I decided to do something nice for you” “but Stevie…you did plenty of nice things yesterday…”, you smirked against his neck. He chuckled too at that.

You let go of him and sat down on one of the stools while he cut a piece of brownie for you. After he took out his phone af showed you the tiktok. You didn’t much understand why he was posting so much on it, but he seemed to have fun with it so you were happy he was happy. And he seemed very happy about his tiktok being viral.

The video was like you suspected him reading something above his head.

>>This or that challenge.<<

In the video steve pointed at the sentance above his head before it changed into something else.

>> Pizza or Burger <<

You knew the choice would be pizza because he always chooses to order it. He’s just a pizza guy.

>> sketching or painting <<

There you could assume it’d be sketching since he did it most of the time-and you were right. It was the right guess.

At the example >> push ups or pull ups<< you really had no idea. You rarely talked about work outs and you didn’t watch him often since he did his work outs most of the time while you were at work.

When finally the choice >Daddy issues or Mommy issues< was above his head you furrowed your eyebrows seeing him just stand there without choosing. Wait…was that….

“Steve you did not-“ Right then you walked into the frame pulling him to the side with the mommy issues, making you gasp quietly. Oh god. And he posted this??

A second later he was back in the frame wearing a white t shirt with a thinck writing on it that said ‘I *heart* MILFs’ confusing you slightly, but you already suspected you wouldn’t like the answer after asking, especially when you watched yourself walk back into the frame and pulling him to you by the neck.

Steve took his phone from your hands, grinning brightly at you. “And? You like it?”, was his first question, still completely happy with himself. Yet the smile slowly faded when he saw your furrowed eyebrows. This never was a good sign.

“And you posted this?? I’m a businesswoman Steve!”, you nearly whined, shaking your head. You weren’t mad at him…rather a bit embarrassed. The whole world knows about your dynamics now.

He shrugged slightly, pulling in his shoulder and making himself look a bit smaller than usually. “Well…yeah…now you’re a famous businesswoman at least-“ “oh my god Steve-“ “but hear me out. People love that kind of stuff-“ “I don’t want to be famous for being your sugar mommy-“ “but they say you’re giving off mommy vibes anyway so-“ “oh my god”

You just shook your head and took a bite from the piece of brownie. At least this taste incredible so you had another reason to not be mad at him-not that you ever could be really mad at him.

A few seconds later you looked up again. “I wanted to ask one more thing. What’s with the shirt? What does MILF mean?”

You knew you wouldn’t like the answer as soon as his whole face to the very top of his ears turned a dark shade of red and he hunched his shoulders even more. “Well it’s…it means…Momidliketofuck”, he mumbled so quickly you couldn’t understand a single word of what he had said. “What? Come again?"

He took a deep breath.

Swallowed.

Swallowed again.

And slowly looked back up at you.

"Mom I'd like to fuck" "WHAT??? Wait hold on-" You nearly choked on your own salvia, your eyes widening. “Steve! How many people have seen this video?”

“Well…around two hundred…..thousands” “Steve!”

Thank you for reading! I Hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know by leaving feedback:) I’d appreciate it a lot<3

Questions? HC or Drabble ideas? -> flood my inbox!

Taglist: @slutforchrisjamalevans @joannaromanoff @marvel-wifey-86 @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @barnesboo1967 @sebsgirl71479 @sapphire-rogers @hayleysimp @kestrafagnor wanna be tagged? Be active (FEEDBACK AND REBLOGGING) and let me know!

[starry-eyed-never-satisfied]

16, 25, 19, and 5 ;D

Eee! I'm so sorry, i started to answer an then saved to drafts and forgot you!

At what point in the process do I come up with the title?

I try to use lyrics for my titles, and some of them I had as soon as I started writing - 3 AM Wide Awake, Hold Me, My Leathers Fit Tight Around Me. Others were much harder, Driving On Down The Road got a title change after I posted it, and a lot of my wips are saved as document 1, 2 etc, which means if I'm looking for a particular one I have to open all of them!

Have I ever upset myself with my one writing?

Yes! Hold Me, Gods Of Thunder, and there is one line in one of my wips that I cannot read without crying.

A small teaser from one of my wips.

This one is a story from the Hotter Than Hell recording, a combo of Ace's car crash and a story from Paul's book where he nearly got arrested for not having his licence. For dramatic effect, I have written him as being arrested.

Afterwards no one could remember what had set it off.  A bad day, a thoughtless word spoken in anger.   On top of the stress of recording and being away from home for so long everyone’s tempers were frayed.  Ace and Peter had both been drinking steadily since they had returned from the studio several hours earlier.  Sometimes that put them in a very good mood.  Today was not one of those days.  A terrible fight had ensued, and Ace went storming out in a rage.

“That fucking idiot is driving!” shouted Gene at the sound of squealing tires as Ace speed off.  “He’s going to fucking kill himself!”

Although Peter had been screaming at Ace just minutes earlier, he suddenly had the urge to defend his friend.  “And that would make you happy, wouldn’t it!”

“Of course it fucking wouldn’t!”

Bill got between the two of them, placing a calming hand on each.  “Guys, just calm down.”

Gene looked around the room.  “Where’s Paul?”

What no one had noticed was that before Ace stormed out, Paul had already left.  He hated fighting.  He hated anger and aggression.  Negative energy.  Whatever it was, it reminded him of when his parents fought, and he couldn't stand it.

Driving along, radio blasting, wind in his hair, Paul felt the stress melt away.  Music had always been his solace, and he had it so loud that he almost didn’t hear the police siren.  Turning down the music, Paul peered ahead.  Where was the cop?  He could never tell which direction sound was coming from.  Then he glanced in his rear-view mirror.  Fuck!  He’s right behind me!  I wasn’t speeding, was I?

Heart pounding, Paul pulled over.  Hopefully it would be a lady cop.  He could try his charm on her.  The officer approached.  He was a man.

“Licence and registration, please,” he said.

Paul nervously reached for his wallet . . . and realised it wasn’t in his pocket.  He had left in a rush and hadn’t even thought to grab it.  The police in New York never cared.  As it turned out LA police were different.

“I . . . uh . . . I don’t have it.  I left it at the hotel, sorry.”

“Then you’re going to jail.”

“Jail?”  Paul’s blood turned to ice.  “I can’t go to jail.”  Joking around one day, Gene had said if Paul was ever in jail, he’d be the most popular guy there.  “Not looking like this.”

It was to no avail.  Paul was frisked, which if he hadn’t been so scared, he would have found funny.  His jeans were skin-tight, so if he had any weapon other than his love gun in them, it would have been obvious.  Then he was handcuffed and pushed into the police car and taken away.

A few miles away there were no police.  Which may or may not have been fortunate for Ace, as he was taking out his anger by seeing how fast he could drive the winding hill roads.  And when he found he could do it quite fast, he did it again. 

What's a fic idea I've had that I will never write?

I have a couple that I have tried, but are really hard. One is a self insert, me and Paul, pure smut. I've written a little, but then I think about people reading it and I get embarrassed and delete it. The other is really dark and deals with a suicide attempt, again I've written a little, but I don't know how it would be received.

Thanks for the ask!

[fandomfablesunleashed]

hey!!

Some questions from the fanfic author ask you reposted, feel free to reply to whichever :)

2, 4, 12, 19, 22, 25 and 38

Hey! Thanks so much for the message <3 Honestly, I totally forgot I even reposted that. But I’m always more than happy to ramble, so…

2. Do you prefer oneshots or longfics? Oneshots, for sure. They’re way less time-consuming and easier to manage overall. With a one-shot, I can focus on a single moment, emotion, or idea without stressing about plot consistency, pacing, or character arcs stretched over multiple chapters. Writing a 4k one-shot is way easier and faster for me than trying to complete a 2k chapter.

4. Do you save your “cut scenes” from your fics? (Want to share one?) It depends. I usually work in a single draft, so when I make edits, I often end up losing stuff. But if it’s a longer piece, or there’s a sentence I really like and think I might reuse later, I’ll toss it into a folder—no joke, the folder is literally called “Random Crap Collection.”

Recent cutouts: He took another swig from his bottle, feeling the warmth spread through him. But it didn’t numb the ache inside, didn’t drown the fear that had been clawing at him for so long. The more he drank, the more confused he became. Why were you so easy to love? Why were you the one thing that made him feel like he wasn’t just a broken man, but someone who could be whole?

And a small piece of dialogue I have to use somewhere: “You have no idea how much I long to lie beside you and let our emotions take over. To let them carry us wherever they want.”

12. Have you ever made a moodboard for a fic? (Do you want to share it?) I don’t really make moodboards, but for every longer project, I do put together a super simple book cover and a Spotify playlist. Although I am tempted to do a moodboard now…

19. Do you work on multiple fics at once, or only one at a time? I’d burn out fast if I focused on just one. There’s always a lot going on—tons of documents and even more random notes on my phone. When inspiration hits, I write, even if it’s just a few sentences for something I thought of months ago and don’t plan to dive into anytime soon. Sometimes it’s just a single sentence, a piece of dialogue, or an idea for a new fic that randomly pops into my head.

There’s usually one fic that gets most of my attention (right now it’s Tangled Lives), but I’m always bouncing between several others depending on the mood.

22. What is one of your favorite tropes to write? Friends to lovers! Nothing hits quite like the slow burn and the moment of realization. I will never be normal about it.

25. Is there a scene you are dreading writing? (Want to share what it is?) Action scenes. I really want to focus more on canon-related stuff—for One Piece and Love and Deepspace—and for that, I need to figure out how to write good fight scenes. I’ve tried, and it was rough. I’m not even being self-deprecating. It just genuinely wasn’t good…

38. Fic idea you're most excited to get to? I’m always excited about my fics. Writing brings me joy (and pain and gritted teeth, hair-pulling, etc., but let’s ignore that).

Definitely the canon-related ones. They're the hardest to write, which is why I started with modern AUs for my longfics.

If I had to pick one right now, I guess it would be a story about Ace from One Piece and the Marine’s daughter. I’ve been working on it slowly for a while, and it’s still missing a big chunk in the middle. I struggle with it a lot, and part of me dreads diving fully in because I haven’t decided whether to stick with the canon ending. I’m leaning toward yes now… and I just know people (myself included, honestly) are going to hate it yet, it would be so good.

[jessy-the-martian-girl]

I love my brain so much 🤭

Yes, actual self-shipping idea this time.

I do remember that I have already tried to run such idea - twice! - with Sirius Black and the Turtles)) (With Sirius it was via his fall through the veil in the Death Chamber, and I don't really remember how it was with the Turtles - probably it had something to do with the Technodrome and dimensional travels).

Anyway, both times things just didn't go beyond the moment of an actual meeting (and a couple of late-night conversations in the kitchen with a cup of hot cocoa). But now... It feels like an actual outline for the long story. Looks like Luis has rooted into my heart and soul for good. And I don't mind the slightest bit.

In general, I have the same thought, only with Luis: one day I'll wake up in the middle of the night from the sound of something falling in the next room; still half asleep, I'll go out to check what else my Kosh has dropped - and I fall (in shock) myself when I see a body in a stunningly familiar jacket on the floor. I don't have the slightest idea of how that transfer will happen, but I'm adamant that it should happen before Luis pulled his last strength together and went to rescue Leon (sorry, Leon, but you'll have to take care of your Major yourself, and I know that you're capable enough to manage on your own - as Luis comes first and he definitely needs more time to be saved).

First aid (have I Googled all that medical stuff for nothing?!), calling an ambulance (with a hastily concocted and semi-fantastic story that I was so tired and probably forgot to lock the door to the apartment, and then "this guy" came in, woke me up, asked for help and passed out on my carpet). A quick ride to the hospital, much needed treatment for his wounds (and he doesn't have any documents with him, of course), my thoughts on how to legalize him and not fall under suspicion that it was me who stabbed him or even organized him some amnesia "via the sharp application of a heavy object to the occipital part of the skull"...

Then he wakes up and we have a chance to get to know each other normally. At first Luis is puzzled and tries to carefully play with compliments, saying something like "how do you know me if we haven't met, but I would definitely remember such a beautiful señorita". I am pleased to hear that, of course, but ask him not to flatter me - in a pretty straightforward way. Then I tell him that I don't understand how this is possible, but I know him as the hero of a cool computer game (we check some facts that I know about him via game, and Luis is shocked as everything turns out to be correct).

And we were communicating in English all that time, yeah)) Surprisingly, I don't even forget or confuse words and I don't struggle with choosing words at all. Surreal.

Further there will be some research on the legal matters, if I ever get to write the actual story. But in the rough outline of the story Luis gets new documents, agrees to my offer to stay with me for now (rent-free) - at least some stability in this new wild world, while he gets back to full health and the documents are being prepared. He learns the local language, looks for new job and learns new places for himself.

I admire him "in real life" even more than his screen image, but I do not thrust myself on him (not considering myself as someone worthy of such a partner in life) - and he does not harass me, but is pretty intrigued and shows careful signs of affection.

If I ever get to write this, it will be some domestic fanfic, no saving world, no mass disasters or epidemics, just some ordinary everyday life, some slowburn relationship that will result in marriage and a few kids (or in another order - kids first, then marriage).

[millylotus]

Story Index

I’m going to be posting a bunch of stories right about now, and I want to have it all lined up so people can find them easier. Hope ya like ‘em.

Master Posts

POLL FIC MASTER POST [specifically this poll]

DeadLights [Duke Thomas x Danny Fenton | DP x DC]

Fic Prompt Master Posts *TO BE MADE*

Poems

Sol Born of a Wish

The Nebula

The Coven in the Woods

The Rabbits are not what it seems to be

The Desperate Broken Prince

The Demon Heart [Talia Al Ghul]

The Sunspot Prince [I’ve always liked bringing up the fact that Duke Thomas is probably a minor god]

In Madness

I call for a sacrifice to be my savior: my he be swift and kind (We worked on Tanka poems in class today :D)

In Madness (Dionysus invites Ariadne into his world)

Princess Most Holy (Ariadne’s life in one poem)

Little Brother (Ariadne mourns the Minotaur)

A Ring Lost In A Decade Is Still Lost (Ariadne misplaces the engagement Ring Dionysus gave her)

Parking Lots, Angry Birds, Forgotten Gods (A mortal approaches Ariadne at midnight in a Target parking lot)

Sherlock & Killer

Sherlock : Francesca “Frankie” Linly Bonet (Frankie’s back story and the songs I used to make her)

Ghost Zone Lore

How Ghost Are Born/Spawned

How to care for Young Ghosts [Lair]

Danielle’s Rebirth

Valerie Spots them

Ghost Classification

The GS Batfamily AUs

I have a google spreadsheet document that I keep all my AUs in for the batfamily.

BASE AU

Bat-Family Ages

Inheritance In The Bat-Family

Cullen Row / Mockingbird

New Baby Jitters

The Malones

Miscellaneous AUs

Madrigal Batfamily

Circus Robins

Birds Migrating East

This is a Justice League and Harry Potter, world mash crossover fic. Where every bat has some form of magic or another. And Tim, Steph, Duke, and Damien are sent to protect Harry in his fifth year. While Zatanna joins the Order. And Constantine infiltrates the Death Eaters.

Lore

Chapter I [May]

Chapter II [Four weeks later/July]

Chapter III [That Night/July]

Chapter IV [Three weeks later/June]

Chapter XI [Couple Minutes Before the Arrival of the Birds, and Batdad]

Chapter XII [In Number 12 Grimmauld Place]

Chapter XIII [Right when Dumbledore walked in]

Short Stories

Prompt: Five passengers are riding a train when something happens (It’s a zombie apocalypse and someone’s water broke)

The 8th and 9th wonders (Don’t really know how to explain this one)

Cassandra Sanvanterules (DnD character I was thinking about using)

Saint Lucifer (I remember writing a lot of this down on paper but I don’t feel like pulling out all my old journals)

Ender Bunn (One of the stories I finished for a Minecraft OC… I’ve changed them if your wondering)

Liminal Sanctuaire (A little story of puppy love that I had to make for school)

what a way to go. (A captive escapes their hell, but in the vast emptiness of space, they find no one) WARNINGS: TW SU!CIDE, TW SELF MUTILATION, TW SELF HARM, TW SELF CANNIBALISM

Chills (Just two love bros playfighting, and drinking beer)

But Never Enough (Abandoned Story Idea)

Boy Isn’t Right

Hello Lovely

But Never Enough

Unfinished Stories/Fanfiction

Moon Goddesses (Creation Myth)

A Kingdom Old and Forgotten (Was supposed to be a DSMP fanfic set in the modern world thousands of year after the DSMP fell, but then I got bored)

Jordan Needs to Move (In an apartment complex AU where all the MCYT families live together. Jordan moves away from his wife after divorce to Dream Family Apartments. (Not actually owned by Dream, but by his dad)) [Fanfiction]

I’m Not Gonna Be the Side-Character Anymore (A stereotypical Manhwa Harem goes wrong when one of the Harem boys defects and leaves)

The Animals Feed (Noble families are comprised of the Chinese zodiacs. And they all choose their heir, by making the twelve children (all of different zodiacs) fight to the death in different ways)

The Time of Fea (A story of two sisters who run away into the Fea populated woods)

OCs from a long ass time ago. That I honestly forgot existed.

Spirit of Bleak Winter & Knight of Shadows [DC x DP, Ship: Bruce/Danny - Frostbat] (Just a one-shot for a prompt I saw and loved)

Absolutely Smitten [Rottmnt x Into the Spiderverse Ship: Mikey/Miles - MarbledSpider]

Secret Son John Constantine [DpxDc John Constantine is the Everlasting Trio's magical baby child]

Super Villain Summer Internships [DpxDc Everlasting Trio go to Gotham & run amuck]

[all-that-jazz-93]

The Conqueror - A Short Story

Awareness comes to me slowly. The last thing I remember, I was in a situation I knew I couldn’t possibly live through. As my surroundings become clearer, I realize I didn’t live through it. I look up at the imposing gold gate in front of me and it occurs to me that I must be standing at the entrance to the afterlife.

A figure materializes to my left, approaches me slowly, and comes to a stop a few feet away, hands clasped in front of him. I figure he must be here to guide me into eternity.

“Welcome to the afterlife,” says the friendly guide; his brilliant white teeth gleam as he smiles gently and leads me through the gate.

His white robe billows behind him as he leads me up a golden staircase. When we reach the top, he opens the door in front of us and waves me inside a brightly lit room.

The walls are stark white, and everything looks a little misty. Sort of like the way all those old cartoons like Tom & Jerry used to portray Heaven. I nod to myself. All right, then. I made it into Heaven. Good for me.

We don’t so much walk across the room as glide. We come to a stop in front of a large wooden desk. Sitting on the desk is a shiny new laptop computer with Microsoft Word open on it. Beside the computer is a nice leather-bound notebook and a silver cup filled with high quality pens and pencils. A printer sits on the floor beside the desk.

“Welcome to your new home,” says the guide. “You were a writer in your mortal life, so this space has been designed especially for you.”

I grin and sit down in the comfortable office chair, giving it a gleeful spin before I grasp the edge of the desk and pull myself forward. I get to spend eternity writing! Who knew Heaven would be so perfectly tailored to my passions?

“I’ll check in on you in a little while to see how you’re doing,” the guide says as he glides out of the room. “Have fun.”

He shuts the door behind him, and I am alone with my new writing station. In an instant, I’ve got my first brilliant idea. It pops into my head, very nearly fully formed, and it’s one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. Excited, I place my hands on the keyboard in front of me.

I pause, my fingers hovering above the keys. I stare at the screen. A blank Word document stares back at me.

Shit.

What was that idea again? I literally had the whole thing not ten seconds ago, and now I’m drawing a blank. It’s not even that I forgot it. I mean, it’s all still there in my head, I just…can’t figure out where to start. I don’t have the words.

My first day in Heaven isn’t starting off so well.

I sit there for a while longer, at a loss. Finally I turn away from the computer and open the leather-bound notebook. I reach for a pen. Maybe a more tactile form of writing will help me get the words out.

I uncap the pen and look down at the notebook. My pen hovers over the blank page as I try, once again, to think of the words to express the brilliant idea I just had.

Once again, nothing happens.

Time passes. I don’t know how much time. Maybe hours. Maybe days. It’s a little hard to keep track. After a while, I hear the door open behind me. I turn around and see the guide who brought me here gliding across the room.

“How’s it going in here?” He asks cordially.

“Not great, actually,” I admit. “I keep getting these great ideas, but I can’t seem to get my thoughts onto paper. I had ADHD when I was alive, so this kind of thing used to happen to me a lot, but I wouldn’t have expected a flaw like that to still exist in Heaven.”

The guide’s smile remains in place, but his eyes narrow, making the whole of his expression seem all at once much more sinister.

“Who told you this was Heaven?”

In an instant his white robes turn deep red, his nice straight teeth become pointed, horns materialize from his forehead, and a tail appears from the back of his robes. The room darkens and the white mist around us dissolves into crackling flames, revealing a hard, bare floor and rough rock walls.

Deep, malicious laughter erupts from the guide, who I now see for what he truly is—the devil. He bends down close, his mouth an inch away from my ear.

“You’re in Hell,” he whispers. “And this is your own personal torment—a perfect writing space, perfect ideas, but a total inability to get the words from your head into print. You’ll be stuck at this desk for eternity, always just a hair’s-breadth away from finding the right words, your greatest ideas always just out of your reach.”

I sit in stunned silence, and the devil cackles.

“Welcome to day one of your own personal Hell,” he says.

Then he leaves, and I am alone once again. For the next few days, I sit at my desk, trying in vain to fill the empty pages and blank Word documents in front of me. The devil visits me once a day; I learn that these visits are mandatory—he has to check on every inhabitant of Hell on a daily basis to ensure they’re all suffering in whatever personal prisons he’s created for them.

He loves to gloat. He strides in each day, eyes dancing with gleeful malice, grips the back of my chair, and leans over my shoulder.

“What are you working on today?” He taunts me, staring intently at the blank screen. “Ooh, even more nothing than yesterday! Why, I think this is your best lack of work yet!”

After a week, I’m sick of it. To Hell with the rules (pun very much intended). If I could work through writer’s block in my previous life, I can do it in this one, too.

I suddenly sit up straight, struck by this revelation that feels simultaneously revolutionary and incredibly obvious—if I could work through writer’s block in my previous life, I can do it in this one, too.

“You absolute moron,” I mutter to myself. “You have experience with this exact thing. You spent your whole life figuring out how to get around it. You’ve got a whole arsenal of ways to deal with this kind of mental blockage.”

I think hard, calling to mind the things I used to do to beat writer’s block when I was alive. My main method involved saying my ideas out loud before I ever sat down to write. I used to walk around describing the story idea out loud, as if explaining it to an imaginary audience. I used to verbalize the dialogue to figure out how the characters would talk, to make sure every line sounded true to their voices.

I leap up from my chair and begin walking around my cell, muttering names and places and bits of dialogue.

“That’s it!” I exclaim suddenly. I race back to the computer and quickly type up everything I just said—verbalizing it made it much easier to string together the right words.

Once it’s all typed up, it gets easier to revise it and make it better, and before long, I’ve got a whole short story typed up. I grin and lean back in my chair, stretching my arms behind my head and looking at the screen with a satisfied smile.

I spend the rest of the day walking around, talking to myself about all of my story ideas, just like I used to. Every so often I dash back over to the desk and write down a particularly good paragraph or bit of dialogue.

When the devil comes around for his daily visit, I grin and hand him a manuscript.

“What’s this?” he asks, leafing through the pages dubiously.

“Oh, y’know,” I say with a casual air, turning my back to him. “Just a story I wrote.”

I glance over my shoulder and see his eyebrows go up in surprise. He quickly reads through the first page, then looks up at me, eyes burning. “This is impossible.”

“Apparently not,” I shrug, feigning nonchalance. Inwardly, I’m absolutely giddy at having gotten the best of my tormentor for once.

“You’re not supposed to be able to do this,” he says, shaking the manuscript emphatically. “Your brain is supposed to be caught in an endless state of mental blocks and frustration. You’re supposed to be at a loss for words for all eternity!”

I round on him. “Listen fuckwit, I’ve got ADHD. I’ve been dealing with these exact writing conditions my whole life. You think I haven’t developed ways to manage this shit?”

The devil’s face contorts into a twisted expression of rage for a moment. Then his features soften and he becomes calm again.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says coolly, handing me back my manuscript. “You have no way of publishing any of your work. No one will ever read it.”

He laughs and turns to leave, but I grab him by his tail and jerk him back towards me.

“Have a seat, then,” I say. “You’re the only one here? Fine. Sit down and shut up—you just became my audience.”

I smooth out my manuscript and begin reading aloud. The devil sits and listens with a scowl as I read him a story about heroes prevailing and good ultimately triumphing over evil. Finally, when he can’t take it anymore, he stands up and stalks out of the room.

“See you tomorrow!” I wave to him cheerfully.

For the next week, every time the devil comes around to my cell, I read him bits and pieces of stories I’m writing. I always choose the parts I know he’ll hate the most—characters finding hope in the midst of darkness and despair, lovers finally having happy reunions after fighting against unbeatable odds, people conquering their own personal demons and coming out of it stronger on the other side.

Finally the devil cracks.

“All right!” He relents on the seventh day, snatching the manuscript from my hands just as I open my mouth to read it to him. “Give me that. I’ll send it to the mortal realm to be published. Just…stop making me listen to it.”

“And you’ll do the same with all my writing?” I ask him, clasping my hands behind my back and smiling sweetly.

“Yes,” he growls. “Anything to stop you from reading it to me.”

“We’ve got a deal,” I say, holding out my hand. With a sigh, he shakes the offered hand, and stalks out of the room to take my manuscript to the interdimensional mailroom.

“Yes!” I exclaim, pumping my fist triumphantly. “I’ve made the devil my publisher, but more importantly, I’ve made him my bitch!”

My writing really takes off back in the mortal world. The devil is pretty pissed about it. He even tries to get me transferred up to Heaven, but I tell him that if Heaven doesn’t have a writing desk for me, I’d rather just stay here.

And that’s the story of how I conquered my own personal Hell.

THE END

[all-tsukishimakei]

"You really did?"

Tsukishima Kei x reader

A/N: Hello, I'm back, I lost my earphones because im a dumbass and as part of my grieving process I wrote this. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is much appreciated.

In which you, Tsukishima's s/o, lose his headphones.

light angst(???), hinted undiagnosed ADD!reader, Anxious!reader, Tsukki is honestly a little shit, but he's really not.

For some reason, it was always particularly hard for you during partials week, college was a lot more complicated when it came to evaluation, specially in your major. It triggered anxiety and if was often hard to focus in your studying and projects, that was mainly the reason why you nearly never studied somewhere that wasn't your dorm room. Noise distracted you and all the fuzz around made it very hard to go back to what you needed to finish.

This time though, you were out, at a coffee shop. It was Tsukishima's idea, it was his favorite. His presence helped you (sometimes) stay focused and motivated, with his constant teasing and your faint competitiveness it was easier to keep your eyes set on your goal.

It was early when you both arrived and ordered something to eat and drink, but by the time he was done with his work, it was already time for him to go to his volleyball practice. He offered to come back after he was done so he could walk you back home. When he saw the doubt in your eyes and the small pout, he grabbed his headphones from his bag and placed them around your neck.

Tsukishima knew you had a bit of trouble getting distracted, it was almost as if it was a part of who you were. It might be troublesome sometimes, but he often found endearing how much effort you put into bettering yourself.

Silly, he made fun of you for that, but deep down he liked to help you, to make it easier for you too. So if lending his headphones was it, he'd do it without a problem. Maybe with some teasing here and there, always asking you 'not to lose them'. But it was mainly a joke, because he knew you were extra careful with his stuff.

On the other hand, you could find so much joy from these little things. You knew Tsukki never gave off his stuff to other people, so you being his lover gave you that privilege. And you always made sure to take good care of all that he lend you, to the point where you often forgot your own stuff sometimes from prioritizing his.

But this time was different. The original plan was that Kei would come back for you, but after getting to the gym, he was bombarded by the news that they would take a lot longer than they usually do. So he sent you a text to tell you, when you read it, you felt a little down about it but tried to focus on finishing your assignment.

Maybe you could wait there long enough for him to come back.

This was the second partial's share of your project, which was pretty chaotic already. The subject you planned working with wasn't doing it for you anymore, so this time you needed to turn in the first partial's share updated with the new subject and the one for the current period.

And you were almost done with everything, but your laptop shut off. Damn, the battery.

You almost flipped your bag upside down before realizing that you had forgotten the charger. So everything that you had planned for the evening had to change. You needed to get your damned charger.

So, you packed everything back, uneasy, the only thought in your head being 'I hope I saved my document', as one does.

And you texted Kei again, to update him on your new plans, but you didn't wait long enough for him to answer. You dropped your phone inside your back and focused on walking to the station.

Finally, when you grabbed your keys to your dorm room and opened the door, you settled down and plugged in your computer.

Well, at least your file was safe. You only lost a few lines at the end of it, which was easy to pull up, because during your way back, you reviewed mental notes on your project for every time you felt a ping of anxiety.

When you were done writing, you closed your laptop and grabbed your phone, you remembered you needed to tell Kei you were home safe. But then you saw it. His last text.

You're doomed before you know it.

From 'Tsukki':

Don't lose my headphones, idiot.

As per usual, Tsukishima attempted to tease you, but he nearly unraveled a panic attack.

You didn't have them on you, you effortlessly tapped the inside of your bag 'looking' for them. But you knew, very well, that they were not there. Why would you have them in your bag, you never put them inside. And it's much worse because now you vividly remember never putting them in your bag.

But where? Could you have left them in the train back home? You were sure you checked twice before leaving through the door. Did you drop them on your walk home? You are sure you must have heard them hit the ground, and you were not carrying anything in you arms, nor hands, why would you drop them if there was no reason for you to do so?

The... table at the coffee shop?

On one hand, you'd feel pretty dumb if you did, but on the other, that's probably the safest place for you to have forgotten them. It probably meant that you could go back and ask if someone saw them there. Maybe they grabbed them and are keeping them safe from for you.

But it is late, and you wonder if they are still open, when your phone buzzes next to you. It's him, your boyfriend, and it's very weird that for once he's wondering if he can see you again after he's done with practice.

Tsukishima, why are you like this?

It's almost as if he knew you were, in your imagination, running away from him. As if he had a sixth sense to be an inconvenience for you when you need him to ignore you the most.

For a second, you wondered if he was missing his headphones, maybe he didn't want to see you as much as he wanted his headphones back. After all, those were his favorite ones.

And the sudden wave of guilt came rushing back to you.

From 'Y/n':

I'm tired today, Kei. Maybe tomorrow.

It was very unusual for you to turn him down, and he knew something was up. Did you finish your work? Did you need any help? Was there something he could do for you?

Since he got the news of their extra-practice, he's been thinking about how he left you alone in the coffee shop. You were always nice to him, so he knew you would go with almost anything he proposed. But this time, he felt a little guilty about leaving you in a position where he knew you were uncomfortable with.

He could picture you being desperate to finish your project, Kei knew it had been bugging you for a while now, and that your deadline was soon.

So after he was done, he walked the way to your dorm, even after you told him not to. He grabbed something you both could eat on his way, too. Something he knew you loved, and with that, he arrived to you door.

Knock Knock

You were in a state of panic.

Since you realized that it was already too late, you decided to wait until tomorrow to visit the coffee shop, but your thoughts were killing you. You could feel how, with every thought, your heart beat faster and your breathing nearly stopped. Your head was pounding, too.

You did it again, even after trying so hard.

You felt frustrated, angered. At your self and your inability to focus and remember important things.

So, when you heard the knock, you heart missed a beat for a second. You knew it was him, it could only be him. As you walked to the door, you could feel your body ache in heat. You know? That sensation you feel on your face when you're angry or very upset, with the familiar sting in your eyes, from threatening tears about to fall off your waterline.

You opened the door; he was right there, carrying a plastic bag, with what you guessed was takeout, in his hand.

"Hey. Ar- Are you okay?" Kei sort of stumbled in his words midway due to him noticing the state you were in. "Did some-"

"I lost them, Kei" you cut in.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

"You really did?" You could feel a bit of mock in his voice, so when you looked up to meet his eyes, you noticed he was trying hard to hide his smirk. All the emotions you were trying to hold back suddenly resurfaced the moment your body seemed to relax a little. Your tears fell as you (softly) punched his chest in protest. "You should be mad, Kei, stop smiling like that," you said between sobs. "I lost your favorite headphones!" You now moved your hands to wipe of your tears.

"You know, I don't mind that much," he said wrapping his arms around you. "I probably would have, but you looked so scared? I would never let go of an opportunity to tease you like that."

And the part he left out was the one where you genuinely looked so scared that he knew it wasn't his place to be upset at you, things like that happen to everyone all the time, it wasn't so important. What good would it bring to make you feel worse.

Tsukishima Kei be mean sometimes, but he is your boyfriend, and he cares about you.

Besides, he was a little bit at fault too, according to him, because he kinda pushed you into staying out and not at home as you proposed.

But no, he wouldn't verbally tell you any of this. He'll let you know, somehow, in other ways, like when he hugs your sobbing figure or leaves soft kisses at the top of your head. Kei will tease you to ease the moment, to see if he can fish out a few smiles from you. So you'll know there's nothing to be scared of.

He would have been upset, they were indeed his favorite headphones, but the sight of you in the middle of a breakdown because of it brought him back and helped him focus on what really is important for him.

You bought him new ones the week after, and he really treasures them, even if he teased you about them being an "inferior" brand.

[treluna4]

I posted 4,211 times in 2022

That's 3,874 more posts than 2021!

336 posts created (8%)

3,875 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stereopticons

@ao3feed-schittscreek

@farm-witches-fic-recs

@goodiecornbread

@ao3feed-patrickdavid

I tagged 1,776 of my posts in 2022

#fan artists are magical - 81 posts

#fan artists are fucking magical - 74 posts

#omg - 55 posts

#i love this - 44 posts

#i love them so much - 34 posts

#❤️ - 33 posts

#yes - 29 posts

#yep - 27 posts

#holy shit - 27 posts

#🤣🤣🤣 - 25 posts

Longest Tag: 105 characters

#i still remember having to add the - i don’t own harry potter- disclaimer at the beginning of every work-

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Laser

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Patrick.”

“David.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You said we could do anything I wanted for my birthday.”

“I did. Yes. But see, when I suggested that, I was thinking we’d be doing something a lot… sexier.”

“Laser tag is sexy.”

“According to who?”

“According to your husband.”

Later

“Holy shit.”

“I know”

“Holy shit.”

“I know!”

“David… what… how the hell did you do that?”

“I have no idea.”

“You got the highest score LaserTown has ever recorded.”

“That’s what it says on the certificate.”

“I’m framing this.”

“You do that and I will wait for you in the bedroom.”

@schittscreekdrabbleblog

33 notes - Posted November 16, 2022

#4

Wedding part 11

“So, business or pleasure?” David asks.

“Huh?”

“What brought you to Vegas?”

Patrick smiles, “A little bit of both actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. See, I came here for a conference but I actually met someone.”

“Oh. How exciting. Is he handsome?”

Patrick nodded, “gorgeous.”

David preened.

“I kind of screwed it up, though.”

“What happened?”

Patrick looked right at David, who seemed to be holding his breath, “I let him walk away.”

They held each other’s gaze. Patrick glanced at David’s lips and then David reached a hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss

@schittscreekdrabbleblog @maryp50 @statueinthestone @goodiecornbread @rmd-writes

35 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

#3

Wedding part 9

After brunch, they skip the rest of the conference to gather the necessary paperwork for the annulment. As they fill it out together, Patrick feels an overwhelming sadness. Rachel always wanted to get married. He didn’t. He had stress dreams about signing the marriage certificate. Yet here he was, signing a document to legally declare that his drunken Vegas wedding to this complete stranger never happened and his throat feels tight.

He doesn’t want to sign it, but he does. They exchange phone numbers, just in case there are any loose ends down the road.

David turns and walks away.

@schittscreekdrabbleblog @goodiecornbread @statueinthestone @maryp50

39 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

#2

Wedding

After Rachel dumps him, again, Patrick decides he needs to get away so he attends a conference in Vegas. He sits through seminars all day and drinks all night.

He wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with a pounding headache and the feeling he forgot something important.

Last night starts coming back to him in flashes. Shots. Excitement. Lips on his. Elvis?

He rubs a hand over his face and his eyes fly open. There’s a ring there. He looks to his left. A beautiful man lies half naked beside him.

His new husband opens his eyes, “Who are you?”

@schittscreekdrabbleblog

40 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Y’all. Get yourselves a beta.

Seriously. How the fuck did I ever write anything without one?

Thank you @celeritas2997 @statueinthestone and @apothecarose

61 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 1/?

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name.)

This is just something I’ve been cooking up in my head during my maladaptive daydreaming. Not really having a plan for this one. ALSO: First post ever on Tumblr! I hope you enjoy it!

I forgot to include the Part 1 when I first posted this lmao F

Warnings: Curse Words, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

As a criminal psychology major, Jason Todd was an intelligent young man waiting to inherit a lot of Wayne Enterprises’ company. Not because Bruce was dying, but because that was Bruce’s promise to him, Graduate, he said, and you can work alongside me, boss and boss. The idea excited Jason entirely. To finally be seen as a colleague to his father was something he always needed from him, but he was too scared to say “Hey dad, am I more than just a sidekick now?” and he knew it.

She, too, was a criminal psychology major. An equally intelligent young woman fighting her way to the top of her class, Jason’s class. And of course, dating isn’t out of the question. Especially when she sees her peers, specifically the one with the white streak in his hair. There was something about him that made her insides twirl in many different ways, butterflies soaring throughout her as if he was destined to meet her. Luckily for her, he sat beside her. Before she could speak to him though, the Professor boomed at the class:

“Good morning class! I am your professor, Thomas Hangre, and welcome to Criminal Psych 101!”

And then began the quick and messy note-taking. She noticed the man beside her didn’t take notes. But, it’s his grade, not mine, she thought.

Little did she know.

When the professor finished, she went to pack up her notes, when the man tapped on her shoulder and outstretched his hand:

“Hey, I don’t think we got a chance to meet before Prof Hangre started spewing at us,” he laughed, “The name’s Jason, you?”

“Oh! My name’s Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, strange man from my criminal psych class, Jason.” she retorted and shook his hand.

“Well well, I can assure you if I was a criminal, Batman would have cracked down on me already, darling.” he stated, almost matter-of-fact-ly.

“You say that like you know Batman.”

“You don’t know if I don’t.”

She laughed at him, there was something about the way he delivered words and sentences that drew her in. This is the start of something good, she thought.

He nudged her slightly in a playful tap, “You want to get something to eat later? We can get to know each other better, and maybe rewrite those very, very sloppy notes of yours, Y/N?” he asked, he seemed shy about it.

“I would love to, Jason.”

They exchanged numbers and packed up her stuff. She figured he still had classes, but she didn’t. So she went back home to her roommate, A/N.

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

“Girl, you do not know the hunk of a man I met today, when I say carved by the Greek Gods and deliver words like a Wayne, I mean it!” she giggled with A/N, they were her best friend.

“C’mon, tell me that guy asked you out, at least to a book club if he’s that hot.” she asked.

“He did! We’re meeting up later at the library to rewrite my notes and chat. Do you think this outfit is cute? I want to make him swoon.”

A/N laughed, “Oh yeah? Girl you’re killing it and you know it. C’mon, red mini skirt, get that man. And maybe see if he has a brother.”

She roared out laughing, “A brother? He is the brother, no man comes from a family where there’s multiple nice ones, you know the saying.”

“Well still, roomies stick out for each other.”

“I know, I know.” she laughed. “Oh and have you seen the latest Bat news, apparently he’s gotten injured.”

“Serves him right for being a bat!”

“Be nice! The man protects us and you know it.” Just then, she looked at the clock, she had 30 minutes to meet up with Jason, so she started panicking.

“I gotta go now, wish me luck.”

“Go, get him.”

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

She pulled up to the library with her bag of hastily written notes and car keys on her lanyard. She was nervous. This was someone who was really cute, and so far, he seemed really sweet to her too. She gulped, getting out of her car. The thing was beaten up to hell and back, so she hoped Jason didn’t see her in it. But he did.

“Hey Y/N.” Jason whispered and she jumped. He laughed.

“Nice beat up car, Y/N. Really living out the broke college kid lifestyle, gotta respect it.” he joked.

“Oh yeah, this is, uh, just aesthetics. I’m secretly very, very rich. Millions of dollars. All my money too.” they both laughed and he lead her inside the library and they both sat down at a desk with two chairs and a computer. This was more luxury than she even had back with A/N.

 Jason grinned and took one of her notebooks and started trying to transcribe what she wrote onto a word document. She laughed, because even though she knew her handwriting was barely legible, he seemed to be managing, and she admired his efforts.

“You know, Jason, I can always transcribe it myself,” she said.

“No, no, it’s okay. If I write it then I can print it for both of us, so you don’t have to pay the printing fee.”

“There’s a printing fee?”

“Yeah, one of my brothers used to go here, my dad says if we all go here he’ll pay the fees since it’s worth it for this college.” he said.

“You have brothers?” she asked, shocked he opened up this quickly.

“Oh yeah I do. 4 to be exact. 3 sisters too. What about you?”

“A twin sister. She’s quite lovely, goes to a different college like a nerd though.” she joked.

He let out a booming laugh, “I think we’re the nerds, Ms. Criminal Psych Major.”

“You have got me there, Jason, you got me there.”

“I know I do, Y/N. So, what high school did you come from, or are you an out-of-city kid?”

“Not from this city, I’m actually from Metropolis. It’s huge and annoying there. Too many people. This is such a smaller city compared to Metropolis. I’m guessing you were a Gotham Academy kid?” she asked.

“Yeah, repping the Gotham Academy to death and back, I met a lot of good people there and I would have to agree, my uncle lives in Metropolis, it’s massive.” he said.

“Your uncle is probably a people-person then, I’m sure as hell not.” she retorted.

“Neither am I, but there was something about you that seemed inviting if I’m honest. I don’t regret asking you this, what is this? A date?” he asked.

“If you want to call it a date, we can call it a date, Jason.” you assured him.

“It’s been a date then.”

“Well I’m glad you thought I was inviting and worth your time, Jason. Really, this is lovely.” you once again assured him.

“Did I tell you that you look nice? Red’s a lovely colour. It’s even my favourite colour. It’s like you can read my mind and dress for the occasion.”

“Man, if I could read your mind, I’m sure it would be a joyride. Maybe I’ll know why you went into Criminal Psych over everything else.”

“That’s a story for another time, Y/N.” he said as he somehow finished typing out the last page of the notes, “I guess this will conclude our date, shame really.”

“Well, that just means there’s room for a second date, Jason.”

“I’ll make sure to tell my brothers about you, then.”

“Is the second date worthy of the Mighty-Jason’s brothers knowing about me?” you are inclined for the answer.

“Well, the first was the minor mention of your name, the second is saying ‘We had fun, I have hopes.’ You know?” he said.

“I know.”

And he printed the document.

[penname-artist]

Roadmap of Insanity

NOTE: These are all fics that are (to some degree) being worked on. This can mean anything from “I have it 90% of the way done but I accidentally put it down for months on end” to “I wrote two sentences and got stuck, help”. None of them are being done in any order whatsoever! I write what I feel like when I feel like, and sometimes that means I go into my documents, write two more sentences, and then abandon it all over again. Also I REALLY wasn’t kidding when I said I have 30-40 open WIPs at any given time. Also, this does NOT include any of my 5-6 collaborations or gifts with various people. I’d rather leave those as surprises ;P

1. I have ONE Cars fic and it’s about Finn and Leland and it’s legitimately old as shit

2. Smol Cabbie story about how he joined Piston Peak (spoiler: the whole team gets played lol)

3. The rest of ‘Doesn’t Mean Nothin’

4. Familia, a story about Blade’s grandneice I forgot about

5. An Emergency sequel

6. A Cabbie + Smokejumpers series about gambling, drinking, cheating, gangs, and maybe arson

7. Blade/Nick Greek Gods AU I made on a whim (it won’t get done anytime soon I can tell you that)

8. A very...odd AU I made for no reason about Blade and Dusty, living new lives as the world has flooded over. And then getting separated.

9. The last bit of The Little Koi Boi

10. An Unus Annus inspired Smokejumpers story (featuring Dusty and possibly Oscar)

12. Crophopper Family Reunion. I have had it in my WIPs since I STARTED fanfic writing in 2020. It will never get done.

13. A Dusty and Oscar origin story

14. Why Blade is terrified of being on boats and gets seasick on them (featuring *gasp* an OC!?!?)

15. A new whumpfic that decided to affect the entire PPAA team with flu because I am evil

16. I keep starting and scrapping a fic where Nick gets injured, but I might finally have one idea that may stick

17. Blade/Ripslinger non-con smutfic. Nothing more to be said than that.

18. Nick’s backstory series

19. Dusty/Jackson Storm CRACK

20. Blade/Nick/Apollo PWP

21. Blade/Hector/Rotor PWP (part 2)

22. Nick/Dusty PWP

23. Shu/Miguel PWP that I wrote down but I don’t think I ever started???

24. A Prompt of Apollo dealing with Mondays

25. Shu/Miguel gift for Shu

26. ABO series #1 for Ivory

27. ABO series #2 for Ivory

And of course, up and coming is a whole other list of “I really want to start writing this but I need to take care of all of ^^^ this ^^^ first”. Among those other unstarted fics, I am itching to do a Flysenhawk (Flysenhower and Kittyhawk ship name, SUE ME) story with some harrrrd angst in it. But with a fluffy ending. Because Fluffsenhower is buried in there somewhere, and if anybody can pull him out, Kitty can!

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

CURIOUS MINDS THINK ALIKE ; PART 5 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.1k SUMMARY: Through guessing games and walking on eggshells, it’s you and Loki that dance the strange choreography of two curious minds trying to figure out the other. A/N: Slow moving chapter! If any of you speak Norwegian and know that sentence is wrong, please tell me! I took a risk, not sure if it's worth it. Anyways, I promise there’s more stuff coming in the next chapters. Tell me anything about this chapter, what you love, what you hate. Enjoy xo gif from this gifset by@marvelheroes WARNINGS: Swearing? More paperwork. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

The narration of Miss Minutes accompanying the grainy animated graphics of a training video on how, why, and when a branch of a timeline is reset seems to be the source of Loki’s absentmindedness. If he is typically referred to as outrageously and mostly unnecessarily communicative, it is his mind that beats his mouth—the tumult of his thoughts is loud and overwhelming like the people who amass at taverns every evening to drink themselves silly whilst singing jolly drinking songs until the wee hours of the morning. Except, his thoughts are far from jolly. He, mastermind of language and a silver-tongue, has no words of any language to describe the complexity of his mind with accuracy.

Kraftig regn som faller i en fossende elv.

Like heavy rain falling on a cascading river. Water from the sky on water streaming through the ground—thunderous raindrops from above against the river that strikes every rock of every winding turn.

Those were the words of his mother.

Maybe, that’s how his mind should be described.

It’s the mechanical creaks of spinning wheels against the polished floor that pulls him out of his thoughts and finds that he had been staring blankly at a page of men riding jet skis of a magazine he'd nipped from the stack of junk on Mobius’ desk for the last minute or hour. A second or a day? He isn’t sure.

Time works differently at the TVA.

“Hey Casey,” he hears you chime, the cart squeaks as it pulls to a halt. “Do you have a paperweight or something I could use?”

There’s a sound of rummaging as the clerk searches the drawers. Loki restrains the urge to look.

“Uh, yeah...Here.”

“Thanks.”

Probably an infinity stone.

The clerk then wheels by, pushing the evidence cart as he casts a cautious glance his way.

Right. He did threaten to gut him like a fish earlier on although the threat was not as deadly as he intended but proved to be surprisingly effective. Yet, Casey is probably the type to be afraid of his own shadow, he would comply with any sort of threat even if it isn't death.

Pathetic. But amusing.

The training video continues to play in the background, and Miss Minutes’ stupidly charming and cheery voice is starting to sound like gibberish to him. At this rate, it’s white noise to him—attention elsewhere but somewhat listening to a certain extent. He loves multi-tasking and isn’t afraid to admit he’s great at it though it likely plays a huge factor in contributing to the uproar of his brain. It’s why he doesn’t get any sleep for most nights.

There’s just...so much to think about.

And now, it’s filled with the reminder of how you met another version of him. Somewhere. Sometime. An inferior Loki, obviously.

Suddenly, the jet ski magazine becomes less interesting, his mind fleeting.

Discreetly, he spins in his swivel chair and sees you through inked writings and diagrams on the glass partition of your cubicle. Your coat’s discarded, and you have your sleeves rolled up, looking less formal, less tense than before. Yet, still as fierce with that constant scowl of your brows. He watches you bring your fingers to scratch the left side of your cheek and notices a vague resemblance of a fading scar.

He hadn’t seen that before.

The glowing orange hue of the soul stone sits idly on top of a stack of papers beside you.

Loki makes some sort of contemptuous noise in his mind at the sight.

The TVA is a strange place. The thought of a cosmic organization that overlooks all of the time doesn’t make it any less weird and neither do the uniforms—dull color combinations and collars that never seem to end. And the Time-Keepers, well, he isn’t sure what to make of that. Things are a little too straightforward, too simple for handling such a complex matter of the universe—Time. It doesn't make sense.

You spark his curiosity. You had a connection with him. Another Loki trusted you to a certain extent. He wonders what makes you so special, that Mobius was willing to try everything to convince you to help.

He also wonders what your name is.

The clearing of his throat comes off as a sudden and disruptive sound that resonates clearly through the somewhat silent environment of the office floor. A subtle way to gaining your attention although it's proving ineffective. You continue to flip through documents, scribbling notes on a notepad.

He wheels his chair closer to you. For a moment, he catches sight of a white mug amongst the mess. It says, 'Rocket scientist at work.' There’s no way a person as intimidating as you have that kind of mug.

He clears his throat once more.

Still nothing. It’s like he doesn't exist to you.

Then, he notes your vague attempt to fight down a growing smile.

Oh. Oh. You—

Hm.

He scooches closer and taps on the glass partition a little too aggressively.

“I know you can hear me.”

His tone comes out in a sing-song manner. Finally, your eyes turn up to meet his. They are different from when you first saw him emerged into the hallway. Less angry and shocked. Now, you just look unimpressed.

Loki somehow thinks it’s a great idea to charm his way to you.

A grin finds his way to his lips, curving widely with oozing allure.

Or so he thinks.

“Pardon me, but I believe we haven’t properly met and I didn’t catch your name earlier on.”

You don’t say anything, only blink in response.

Tough crowd.

Loki shifts in his seat.

“...What is your name?”

He articulates his words with care, and he doesn’t know why he finds it a need to tread lightly around you. Like with a touch, you will transform into a fiery beast from his childhood nightmares and eat him alive.

You and Mobius are polar opposites—personality-wise. It’s a wonder how the two of you get along.

Do you scare him? No. Definitely not.

Do you intimidate him? Perhaps. But, he will never admit it.

Maybe it’s the way you’re gazing at him with that constant, deafening deadpan look.

Then, you finally give him an answer.

“Agent.”

And with that, you're back to scribbling notes on a notepad.

Agent.

Loki scoffs silently to himself.

Well, that turned out to be completely pointless.

He turns his back to you, returning to scanning through Mobius' jet ski magazine within his grasp.

Loki doesn’t see how you’re now staring at the back of his figure, tapping your pen against the notepad absentmindedly.

Curious minds think alike.

-

You needed a change of scenery.

With all the noise of the muffling narration of the training videos from Mobius’ desk, you began to feel like you forgot how to do your job. The only job you were created for. The disturbance seems to be putting your brain into a frenzy and it’s preventing you from getting your head straight on report protocols. Trying to think of better words to describe the things you’ve seen on Sakaar that weren’t words that meant trash and didn’t end up sounding unintentionally sexual, is where you draw the line.

Times are hard for the variant turned analyst.

The archives are serene amid your solitude. Extensive tables hidden between shelves of identical-looking binders that expanded throughout the hundreds of floors of the building. The spot that overlooks the three looming statues of the Time-Keepers is your favorite. The occasional swish of a passing elevator calms your nerves from all the frustration and pressure ever since you were released from your arrest. You’re just happy to be somewhere familiar although it’s not home.

Although all distractions are gone, you manage to find new ones as you gaze at the glowing ‘357’ signage from across the building as you decide to let your thoughts run for just a little while. You feel like you’re looking through foggy glasses and your brain feels like it’s about to shut down any moment.

Dream away the pain, then.

Then, you hear a voice from afar. Two voices. It’s Mobius; you’ll recognize that quintessential Texan accent anywhere from the times he would rave about a new jet ski magazine he’d found on a mission...something along those lines.

Much to your chagrin, you also hear Loki with that irritatingly posh accent of his.

You should probably move somewhere else. Run and hide before you're being pulled even more into this mess because you know Mobius is trying to get you to spend as much time with the variant turned analyst to gain trust.

You’re still not sure how it’s helping with his case. Loki has better trust in Mobius than you as far as you’re concerned.

Before you could even gather the mess of your files, the two men you’ve been trying to escape are already by the desk you’re sitting at. You suddenly notice the stack of files on the other end of the desk, not remembering seeing the archivist putting that there.

Crap.

“Let me park ya at this desk and don’t be afraid to really lean into this work...”

You look like a deer caught in the headlights, signaling to Mobius that you really don’t want to share a desk with Loki. He continues to speak to him, ignoring your silent plea. Then, he gestures to the seat across from you.

There’s still time to leave.

Mobius addresses you with the stretch of his pointer finger.

“You, keep an eye on him. I’m gonna get a snack.”

Well, too late.

With a turn of a heel, you and Loki watch him walk away and pass neverending shelves of the archives. Once again, the two of you are left alone in the silence and the white noise of the TVA.

You meet each other's eyes at the same time, struck with the thought that you and he will probably be seeing each other a lot until the Loki variant is arrested. Plus, you’re tired of giving him the cold shoulder although you believe he deserves it.

This is a different Loki. The one who’s still power-hungry. The one who still wants to rule.

Time to start fresh.

You notice he now wears a jacket, a color somewhere between green, grey, and brown with a striking image of the TVA’s official badge above his chest. The lapels of his jacket jut out in an attempt to replicate his sense of pride and confidence.

He must have been on a trip with Mobius to the Renaissance Faire in Wisconsin, 1985. Oh, how you would kill to tag along. Everyone who knows you knows about your obsession with Earth’s music pop culture, specifically the 1980s. It explains the cassettes you have lying around. Your apartment has more of it.

Unfortunately, you're grounded. That's reality.

Thus, you decide that Loki deserves a second chance because he’s also somehow looking at you for some kind of approval. You’re starting to wonder if this is the same Loki that was tapping aggressively on your cubicle earlier on.

With an open palm, you gesture to the empty seat surrounded by stacks of binders and folders. It's the first time he has experienced some kind of acknowledgment of his presence that you weren’t ranting or screaming about. Oddly calm. Oddly inviting. Momentarily, he shifts in his stance, eyes darting between a fading figure of Mobius rounding the corner and to the seat, across from you.

The air is tense. However, still breathable.

Loki slides into the seat, legs shifting under the desk as it brushes against your by accident. You shoot him a pointed look, and he responds with a coy expression, blinking at you innocently. It’s mischievous.

Classic Loki.

You turn back to your case file, ignoring the way his gaze seems to burn holes into the side of your face for a fleeting moment before flipping a binder open from the stack to his left.

-

You snore when you sleep.

Loki wouldn’t describe it as a snore; it's more of a wheeze. Soft and subtle but it’s there, cutting through the ambiance of the archives, drifting and resonating in his ears. Through turning pages, uttering words to himself for his amusement, and having an irritating lady shush him for that, he realized how it became a lot quieter. The grazing sound of pen furiously scribbling words onto the yellow notepad has stopped.

Then, he hears it. Your pathetic snores. Your cheek is unceremoniously pressed against the back of your hand while the other holds the orange pen that’s still pinned down on the paper, mid-scrawl. The tip of the ballpoint pen sits idly, halfway through the curved stroke of the last letter of the word, ‘debris.’ He cranes his neck, face tilting in an attempt to read the chicken scratchings of your handwriting.

0132: L1190 hauls me through the time door and I miserably land on Sakaar, the planet of wastelands and debris.

You are quite...miserable. In a comical way. And he knows how much you hated your time on Sakaar—Mobius warned him of your apparent irritation in reminiscent of being stranded and then having to resume paperwork immediately. He wonders if he, too, is the reason for another boiling rage.

Apparently, you were pardoned on behalf of not only Mobius but the Time-Keepers as well.

You, an agent, are recognized by the holy and almighty Time-Keepers.

You, an agent, who sleeps with your mouth agape.

The statues of the TVA’s creators loom over him like they’re watching his every step. Every movement. Every lingering thought. Right now, he has the urge to uncover, perhaps deduce, the holes within this whole mess. In a carefully calculated and discrete movement, he reaches to prod you on the forearm. You don’t move.

He prods you again.

You still don’t move.

Now, Loki is trying to chat up the archivist who watches him through narrowed eyes, glasses framing the austere and rigid structure of her face, in favor of files that turn out to be classified.

Classified, classified, classified. Only able to gain access to his own file.

His journey from the desk proved to be useless and unproductive although the much-needed stretch somehow made it a little worthwhile.

When he returns, you're surprisingly still asleep, brow twitching and lips still parted.

Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him?

The pen you held has now left your grasp, rolled over to his stack of binders. He notices the words inscribed on it, ‘Mars is there, waiting to be reached.'

Through your fury and chaos, he knows there’s a part of you that feels, a part of you that loves. And you love everything about the Midgardians’ space program. It's shown in the way you cling to collected memorabilia.

There are dark circles that adorn your shut eyes, barely hidden under your lashes. You’re exhausted, fractured.

Loki is having a difficult time trying to suppress how he likes the way the frizz of your hair glows against the glowing table lamps from the desk behind you. You’re raw, flaws presented on a silver platter for everyone to see. Maybe, that’s the reason why you entice him the way you do.

He’s staring. Right. Back to work.

Loki returns to running through neverending case files, engrossed in the pixelated monochrome images that accompany the monospace typeface of endless reports.

Then, he sees it.

‘Destruction of Asgard’ in big, bold, and red letters. It glares at him sharply, images of his once divine home of Asgard, crumbling at the feet of Surtur. Buildings, people, engulfed in the flames of the fire demon. The prophecy of the end, Ragnarok—it was meant to be.

His home, it still was. Although an untrue Asgardian.

He knows how it ends. He knows he dies. He wishes his true self, the one on the Sacred Timeline, could have done more.

He doesn’t realize the forming tears that linger. He doesn’t realize that in the sense of premonition, you’ve awakened. He doesn’t realize that even with sleepy eyes, you notice the grief that glints in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

With three words, you’ve struck him with those eyes that seemed all-knowing. You see through the facade he has created, sealing the true nature of what is truly a child that is afraid of his destiny and to lose all he had ever known. His mother, father, and brother. His people. You see through it all.

You know that face. You’d seen it on Sakaar when he sat at the doorstep of your makeshift home, watching the splintered moon drift through the star-lit sky. You’d seen it in yourself through the dusty reflection of the screen of the tempad.

He longs for home. He longs for family.

For a moment, Loki sees Frigga in your eyes.

Then, his world shifts, hauling him back to reality. It’s you who’s across his way, not his mother. Loki blinks, partly to get his head straight with the excuse to blink away the sting in his eye. He shifts in his seat, rolling his neck and squares his shoulders.

“Yes. I’m alright. It’s just...”

Trailing off, he clears his throat. You follow his gaze and from your spot, you catch sight of those deafening crimson letters. Maybe, it was the spur of the moment. You blame your drowsy state, but there’s a growing warmth that spreads across your chest from the pit of your stomach. It’s subtle, a spark, but evident. Before you know it, you’re uttering words that leave your lips faster than your brain could perceive.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know when was the last time you said those words and meant it. Loki doesn’t know when was the last time he’d ever heard those words addressed to him, spoken from the lips of a stranger. Until now.

You mean it. He sees it in the curve of your brows.

Loki swallows, nodding curtly. For the first time, he has nothing to say. And as quickly as the moment comes, he brushes it off and so do you. Whatever is reminiscent of a residing unknown feeling, bubbling within, has disappeared.

He sees your hand reach for the pen and for a while, he thinks you’re about to reach for his arm.

But no, you’re back to scrawling notes on the paper and he’s back to studying useless documents.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into your normal antics as you find yourself chasing after Loki, who abruptly left the desk with wide eyes.

Curious minds think alike. Mostly.

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