#I used to think of it as tricking the universe into trying to humiliate me by showing me how wrong I was in front of everyone

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

Fun bug of the day: I am trying to find a specific integer (index of adjacent vertex selected by a property of the edge connecting them) but I was somehow getting 0 which wasn't an option so to investigate by plugging in one of the booleans I used in the part finding the index into where the index goes, just to evaluate it so I can start breaking down where I went wrong. This evaluates to... 49. My boolean?? My 0 or 1 value is 49??? The answer to "is A equal to B" is "49"???? What. No. It's actually 1 if I cut out this one step in between: checking if the current vertex should do this complex thing or just read one of its own properties. This is determined by an independent boolean property also stored in the vertex. There is absolutely no way whatsoever for my index selector to alter this boolean value and therefore no way to switch back to the stored property and if it's doing that it might be even weirder than saying a boolean has the value 49. So I checked the stored value directly too, of course, to see what was up with that and. um. it's 29.

So basically I have no clue where the 49 is coming from.

if some_bool { return 1; } else { return 29; }

What I have should be equivalent to the above. But it outputs 49. I'm so freaking lost.

Wait

WAIT

Oh the magic of posting about it worked before I even uploaded it's because I'm doing this in a loop and the index where this is evaluated is determined by the output of the previous loop and I'm looking at the freaking 19th loop but changing the behavior of all loops to inspect the values, thus altering which vertex is used in the 19th loop 🤦‍♂️

Still gonna upload this because I think it's funny

[firestorm09890]

stray canto vii part 1 thoughts (warning: long)

so many cool new designs!! it made me realize how few of interest we got in Canto VI. Then almost everything was pretty standard (classic maid and butler outfits, lots of suits, Cathy had a fancy dress at least? and everything was brown. yes I know, T Corp color drain, but still. and Öufi came before season 3 ended so that didn’t count), but this time we have Camille, the P Corp guys, Fanghunt Office, Hugo I guess, Hong Lu’s sister, the firefist guy? if he counts? he barely appeared, Sansón, and all the fancy dressed up bloodfiends. woo babey!!

speaking of Jia Xichun, I like her! She’s cute! I didn’t expect to see anyone related to Hong Lu, but in retrospect I probably should’ve, since his turn is next and his family is massive. I hope nothing bad happens to her. I've never read Dream of the Red Chamber

also speaking of Hugo, lol. lmao. when he was talking about pressing the button to get the reward I was like “oh hopkins 2, got it” and then Ryōshū sliced off his hands so I guess… not hopkins 2

ALSO the blonde Fanghunt guy is named Romero, which is apparently the name of a character in Vampire: The Masquerade. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was an intentional reference

Sinclair cursing that one guy out was so awesome. I remember when Canto V part 2 came out and he censored himself saying “Bitch Brother” people were worried that the new translators were making him softer than he actually was, but, nah, he tries his best to be a polite boy but when he’s actually genuinely pissed off he does not hold back. Ryōshū correcting him BUT THEN SAYING HIS INTERPRETATION WAS GOOD absolutely killed me. my son demands respect

it’s a good day to be a Leviathan fan

The scripted loss encounter was so cool. They set you to level 45 no matter what level your LCB Don is, and take away all your EGO except the base (which you can’t even use), and I don’t know how far you can actually get in this fight because I flipped tails every single time and lost every clash

let’s talk about the Barber! leave it to Project Moon to look at the character who didn’t have very much of a personality who stuck around with the priest and attempted multiple plans to bring Don Quixote back home so he could become sane again (and burned a bunch of Quixote’s chivalry books, also with the priest), and turned him into an insane vampire woman with big scissors and a shrill cackle who stitches masks onto people’s faces.

interesting choice to have Sancho and Dulcinea both named in a single line and then not acknowledged or mentioned again

Sansón! so based on his story log portrait background being bisexual, the blue name, and him resembling someone in Demian’s group in the Limbus Company PV, I feel confident saying he’s part of Demian’s Group. The spot where his Sign would be is covered by his mask, though, so no one in-universe knows

I think this is why Sinclair was cast in the role of the Knight of the White Moon: he also has the sign, which Sansón (who is the Knight of the White Moon) would be able to see, and even if other sinners have it too, they’re not Demian’s special guy. everyone else, though, seemed to be cast in the most humiliating role possible: horse to be ridden for Gregor, wild animal for Heathcliff, random peasant for Rodya, presumably homeless old person for Outis

ok Sansón. in the book, he’s a young college student who read the first part of Don Quixote and, in part 2, approaches Quixote saying he’s a big fan and encouraging him to go back out and do more knight stuff. However, he actually just thinks Don Quixote’s antics are very amusing and isn’t actually an earnest supporter, and is conspiring with the barber and priest to get Quixote back home to stay. the way they (priest and barber try to bring him home in part 1 is by tricking him with an adventure that’s conveniently in the same direction as their home village, but then they get sidetracked in an inn for a long time so they just put him in a cage and drive him home. in part 2, they want to play on Quixote’s terms for a more effective result. near the beginning of the second part, they have Sansón dress as a knight (called the Knight of Mirrors/Knight of the Forest. these titles have no significance in the book but apparently the mirror thing forces Quixote to see himself as the frail old man he is in Man of La Mancha), say his lady is fairer than Dulcinea to get Don Quixote to duel him, and then make Quixote promise to stay home for a year when he loses. however, Sansón is the one who loses, because he wasn’t expecting Quixote to actually be good at jousting. Later, near the very end, which iirc is 3 months after the first encounter, another knight called the Knight of the White Moon issues the exact same challenge to Don Quixote (it’s just Sansón again, and "White Moon" has no significance in the original book either), but this time Sansón wins, so Don Quixote goes home, dejected, and then becomes “sane” again and dies.

Since this Sansón is part of Demian’s group, I don’t think his intentions will be the same- the Barber was a bloodfiend, and he sees beyond the ambitions of the bloodfiends now- but it’s fun to know how he is in the source nonetheless

I really like how he didn’t show up after the Barber’s defeat to say something cryptic and then leave, he told us quite a bit, and though his methods were… questionable, he DID force the sinners to actually finally pay attention to Don Quixote

speaking of the stage play, I like the juxtaposition between Sansón’s play and the Barber’s. in a different context, what Sansón did might’ve been framed as horrifying, and we’d be talking about how uncanny and unreal this is, but I don’t think that’s the intention here. the sinners might be playing roles, and all the enemies are cardboard cutouts, but it’s better than putting targets on real people (though I guess they’re not “people”, they’re bad, bad, bloodfiends). the cheerful music in La Manchaland is distorted and out of place, while the stage play is nice in comparison. the music for the talking sections is a bit too upbeat for the situation, but the music during the battles really immerses you. guitar! trumpet! maraca! this music is clearly composed to emulate spanish music, and it’s very earnest, which I think is important, with how easily music sets tone in media.

in both cases, Don Quixote is in a delusion. nothing in the stage play of her adventures is real, but she’s also completely wrapped up in the narrative of evil bloodfiends without the knowledge that she is one. a violent nightmare and a peaceful dream, both of which she needs to wake up from.

they both do this thing with black-and-white thinking, too. there’s a difference between the “good” bloodfiends, which you should get along with, and the “bad” ones, which you need to kill (though Don sees them both as bad), and then the bandits in the stage play are cartoonishly evil and love to bully the weak. except it seems the first is the narrative the Barber wanted to sell, while the second is Don Quixote’s reality… I mean, the play is definitely inaccurate, but we’ve seen how Don behaves

if you follow me for kingdom hearts and are for some reason reading this you know how much I love Nobodies in kh. people who used to be human, but aren’t anymore, who look close enough but are different on an intrinsic and physiological level, that everyone automatically treats as unreasonable monsters that need to die when they’re more complicated than that… I love it so much, I’m cheering and clapping whenever bloodfiend morality is brought up. Moses said that Larierre was cordial and offered her a place to sit and talk, but then also said bloodfiends are insatiably hungry and you shouldn’t underestimate them. agh I love it

also THE MUSIIIIIC every fight theme so far has been a banger. songs that were already good but with typical carnival instruments, big brass swing, the aforementioned nice spanish music, and the fucked up and evil sequel to dubstep electroswing featuring evil laughter

and finally, the helm of mambrino. in early part 1 of Don Quixote, he sees a barber (COMPLETELY unrelated barber to the other barber btw) carrying a basin on his head, and thinks it’s the amazing mystical Helm of Mambrino, so he attacks the barber and steals the basin. Don Quixote wears it as a helmet a few times and everyone thinks it looks really stupid. they did not fight a bear for it, nor did they go into a cave. idk what this might actually be in the City. either we’ll see or we won’t

[randomidiocyncrazies]

i think one of the best things about Saionji and Nanami is that they're just. such losers. and the narrative never lets you forget it.

oh sure, Nanami is rich and Saionji is technically popular in-universe; but they're also the comic relief and eat shit every time they show up. They're ALSO some of the most perceptive characters in the cast, with both of them trying to leave the duel game at some point and recognizing on some level that it's bad for them. BUT they also spent most of the show thinking they can win at this bullshit farce system for sure and proceed to get outplayed every step of the way, though I'd argue this is much more a Saionji problem than a Nanami problem—once she's been made aware of what's going on, Nanami is the most resolute in leaving not just the dueling game, but Ohtori itself. (Saionji, on the other hand, only tried to leave the dueling game because he felt he was tricked; he didn't have the conviction or resolution to risk giving up his privileges and leave his comfort zone.) The most perceptive but also the most willfully blind characters.

Like. It's so funny to me that Saionji smugly tells Utena the castle is just a mirage when he tries to assert his superiority over her in ep 1, and then proceeds to treat the castle as totally real and have a whole breakdown about it a few eps later—it's fake (which it is) when he can use it to belittle Utena, but it's real (which it is not) when it's about what he wants to attain. What a goddamn idiot; what an absolute clown.

And Nanami. keeps trying to bully the protagonists but the tables always turn on her in the most slapstick way possible. tries to put Anthy and Utena into humiliating situations, and gets put into the most bizarre circumstances/episodes herself. Girl who tries to make fools of others has the story present her as a fool.

(and that's why they're my faves)

[seaside-writings]

Well, well, well! Hello. all you lovely people! It's been a hot minute since I did one of these lol.

As you can all probably tell, I've been dragged kicking and screaming back into Gravity Falls by "The Book of Bill." Because of this, I wanted to make a prompt list from all of my favorite lines of darker dialogue from the book.

Now I know this book is filled with dark dialogue from front to back, but these are the ones that stood out the most to me, and I know they stood out to others as well.

I hope you all enjoy this list, and if you use any of these prompts, please credit/tag me so I can come check out what you’ve created!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Lots of Love & Wishes: Celia 💙△💛👁️‍🗨️🖤

P.s. I did add some lines from the Axolotl’s poem I just felt like they fit well in this mess.

"Until there was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe,"

"Turn back while you still can, or live forever with the regret,"

"It infects other books!"

"Any regrets about causing the apocalypse?"

"Blame the arson for the fire."

"It's not with it. Trust me. You have to trust me,"

"Love is a trick and worst of all it's a trick you play on yourself,"

"Even his lies are lies,"

"I don't want to die alone,"

"I'm broken wanna fix me?"

"Once you kill with one of these, it becomes a "serious straw,"

"This book has no codes,"

"They don't even consider for a single moment the sheer improbability that they got to exist in the ONE timeline where they kept all of their bodily organs,"

"Maybe one day in the future all their good luck will finally run out,"

"I've peered into the souls of the madmen, but this was the first time I'd been in a mind that was collapsing like a neutron star,"

"Your world is controlled by dark invisible forces that need to operate in the shadows to maintain their power,"

"Some desperate part of him seemed to be trying to heal himself, hoping to weld his memories back together like one of his robots,"

"For the first time, I felt a kind of pain that wasn't hilarious,"

"Nightmares about trying to wash blood off her hands that never comes out,"

"Recurring nightmares about overhearing a fight between his parents he wasn't supposed to hear. Why do you think they were in such a rush to get the kids out the door for the Summer?"

"A single spark from the memory inferno hit me, and a hole sizzled straight through me like a laser through butter,"

"And if I ran into any symbols, I'd be ready,"

"Their screams getting louder and louder."

"Listen not to his lies!"

"And he tended to rip out journal pages that had anything to do with his issues with others… especially me,"

"Is my strange way of seeing the universe a gift or a curse?"

"Is loneliness just the cost of greatness? And if it is… how long am I fated to endure?"

"On your own, you're a bunch of sepia-tinted nobodies destined for the dumpster of history,"

"Although the day had begun with us as strangers, it ended with us as brothers, bonded by vengeance and a newfound hatred,"

"Someone had reversed the Shaman's spell and had summoned me back! Who would it be?! A genius? An idiot? Oh. Oh my goodness me. Yes. It was both,"

"Can you collect them all before the end-times come?"

"How about that; you've got an inferior clone! Why didn't you just eat him in the womb? Think of how powerful you'd be!"

"Assemble all seven collectibles to open the seal,"

"The perfect weight to kill a man,"

"Says he's happy, he's a liar,"

"I grow maddened."

"A different form, a different time."

"He looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him before,"

"By a monster."

"He laughed joylessly,"

"It would eat you alive."

"Trust no one,"

"As the chanting grew louder, the forest was suddenly engulfed in flames, screaming laughter echoing, and then- I awake on the floor, gasping for breath,"

"I could see in the third dimension,"

"But being special comes with a price,"

"I've shut down the portal! Damn it all!"

"My mind reels from horror and humiliation! How could I have been so foolish!?"

"Saw his own dimension burn, misses home, and can’t return."

"I was wrong about everything!"

"Break my bones if you must, but you cannot break my will!"

"No, I won't give him the satisfaction! Instead of destroying my work, I'll destroy him instead!"

"That's because I've been knock-knocking your skull against the wall!"

"Has he done this before?? How far would he go?"

"I keep coughing up spiders,"

"My heart was in my throat until I heard the dial tone… the pay phone was out of order. The message hadn't gotten through,"

"You're my property. Don't forget it,"

"You gave me your blood, You let me into your mind!"

"From the graves around me arose a horde of cackling cadavers eyes aglow,"

"Why are you doing this?! Why won't you just leave me alone?"

"Without me, you'll always feel unseen, surrounded by dolts who don't recognize your true potential,"

"You've always felt alone in a crowd, haven't you? Who else will give you this feeling again?"

"Even if you got rid of me, you'd miss me. Admit it, you'd miss me,"

"The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow. who would even miss you?"

"I have no one else,"

“I awoke from the hallucination, heart pounding, to find myself back in my living room, clock ticking, record skipping- and began to weep,”

"What if… he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness?"

"Where did you all go? WHERE DID-"

"Shame is a powerful emotion. But if grows even more in the dark,"

"I thought I was protecting my family, but I was really protecting myself… from humiliation,"

"No, they mean nothing to you!"

"Because no matter what the idiot counselors in this smiling cage say, I don't need anyone, I never have, and I don't miss any of them!"

"I'm fine,"

"This morning I awoke to find my knuckles bloody and sore. He must have been punching and scraping the steel door like a caged animal all night in a frenzy to get in,"

“Someday… someone… will let… me… out,”

[ave-immaculata]

Hi. I am messaging as many Catholic blogs as I possibly can for spiritual help--I don't know if this is offensive. I don't mean it to be--I honestly, I try my very best to be a good practicing Catholic--but life gets very confusing. Anyway, I've been absolutely failing at every aspect of this Lenten promise, and I am terrified God is going to hurt me or hate me or punish me or just let something like that happen--that is not to say God is vindictive--He isn't; I'm just being very evil by making a promise to God and then not sticking to it. I've been getting mostly positive signs, but I am afraid that I am interpreting them that way out the selfish desire to be good and loved by God and not because He is actually pleased with me. I know this is complex problem. I know if you find the side blog this is from that it is going to be filled with non-canonical thoughts and desires and takes on God. I don't do it to be disrespectful--I love the Church with all my heart. I never wanna leave Her. So, if you do find it, please don't be mad or think made this out insincerity. I'm just scared and life and maybe the afterlife is throwing things at me at a much more advanced speed and understanding than I am prepared for. I would talk to my local priest, but I have caused trouble in the Diocese before, and I really don't wanna drag those people back in or my current priest or my family and I don't wanna be humiliated again. So, all I am asking for is prayer. Just pray for me.

{{{{Lenten Plans from the Universe/The Messiah/The Golden Timeline (02/13/24)

Okay so basically, here is the plan--handed down through divine intuition or signs or whatever gave me the information--I trust the information source--so here's my spiritual cleanse for the 40 days:

3 days of (as close as possible) no sleep--72 straight hours--then 2 days of regular sleep schedule for the next 40 days

40 days of no more than 1200 calories every day

40 days no spend (outside of food and bills)

40 days (at least) of no medication (exception--Excedrin Migraine but only in extreme situations...)

Increased prayer/communing/sign reading

***I want to be clear that this is something that I am doing for my own spiritual cleanse and enlightenment and enrichment and etc; I'm not advertising this as a responsible or safe or anything--this isn't a recommendation--you're welcome to join me in an attempt but consult with your own support system including mental health team.***}}}

I'm sorry this is so long. I'm sorry for being confusing or weird. I hope you are having a blessed Lent and I hope that you are given many blessings for praying. God Bless and thank you.

I will absolutely pray for you. I also want to add, despite what I'm about to say, that I get the worry you're describing about God punishing you or letting something bad happen as a consequence. I experience that kind of thinking, and even though intellectually we know that's not how God operates, it doesn't necessarily make it any less stressful. Any practices or penances that are amplifying those concerns are not drawing you to God and are not good.

Your series of Lenten devotions, in my opinion, were always going to be failed. These are collectively (individually, even), stricter and more difficult than most religious people (monks, nuns, etc., not just people who practice religion) would take on. I would sincerely recommend considering lessening your observance for the rest of Lent and discerning these sources pushing you towards them with renewed skepticism (especially using Ignatian discernment, which I can describe more if you like). Especially concerning (outside the penances), is "sign-reading." I don't doubt your sincerity or love for God, but I don't know that, given your worries and anxiety, this is going to be fruitful or draw you into a deeper communion with God.

God will not try to trick you with confusing signs or threaten you for not being able to keep up with this. God isn't going to ask you to stop taking prescribed medications as a penance. Let your your love for Him and His Church be the foundation of the remainder of Lent; your desire to please Him is delightful to Him. Read the Scriptures and dwell with Him.

I obviously don't know the situation with your diocese, but please consider speaking to one of the Priests about this.

[willowmouse]

willow wednesday life update

hello kind denizens of tumblr. i still do not know how to use your website. i'm gonna try and use this website way more though for a whole bunch of reasons, including the following. twitter is hell and i probably need to move off there sooner rather than later, since it's kind of embarrassing when i have to tell people that's where i'm most active still. i also have a very unhealthy habit of making public diary entries on my shitty wix website, which is NOT the place for stuff like that really since that's where some of my more serious writing is too. finally, i just like how this place looks. i like the vibe. i like how i can add pictures and gifs and music and ramble for ages on these, and that's exactly what i'm gonna do!!! i feel kind of awkward talking to specific people about how my day is going or whatever because i have trouble figuring out the point at which i actually become someone's friend and not just an acquaintance or whatever, so here's how things are going for me right now in case you were interested!!!

oh and pls tell me about how ur day is going if you read this :3 i wanna know these things ok

the bad place

i'm going to begin by completely spoiling the tv show "the good place" so skip this bit if that's a thing you wanna watch or whatever. so you know how the whole idea of that show is that these people are shown this amazing afterlife world and are told they're in the good place and not the bad place, but it eventually becomes apparent that they ARE in the bad place and are being tortured in ways deeply specific to the ways that they sucked when they were alive? that's how tutorial sessions feel at university on this physics course. i feel like i'm being tortured for not putting my hand up in class more at school. what happens is that we're put into small groups - there are five of us in our tutorial group - and given weekly meetings with a tutor, then given questions to think about/answer which i guess will eventually depend on what we're covering in any given module.

it's the combination of having to think incredibly quickly about questions that require applied knowledge of stuff i've completely forgotten about having taken a year out of education, if they aren't trick questions anyway, and having to give a stuttered, probably wrong answer in front of other people who seem much more competent with these tasks than i am that makes these sessions feel like torture specifically for me. these are the kinds of questions i would revise for months and months to prepare myself for in an exam setting and would still get wrong. i've felt incredibly fucking stupid coming out of both sessions we've done so far and i can't imagine that will change going forward and it's completely humiliating. i've gone my entire life without being made to feel so stupid in any kind of maths or physics related environment and now that i'm at university you're telling me i have to feel every bit as humiliated as i did during the very worst drama or music at secondary school? fuck right off. fuck whoever came up with these.

no stickers (yet)

this is my laptop!!! it's very fancy and i'm extremely happy with it. i'm trying to figure out which, if any, of my stickers i should put on it. i have a progress flag sticker, a bunch from the new jamie xx record since they were giving those away in rough trade AND i was thinking of making my own stickers at some point too!!! they would probably be of my mouse sona though and it depends how thoroughly i want to out myself as a cringe transgender furry to everyone here and back at home since my family will also inevitably see them. we'll see i guess!!! god forbid a girl just want their OC design that represents how they see themselves in a way that makes them happy and affirms their concept of gender but in a way that might weird some people out because it's a cartoon mouse.

thanks to this thing, though, lectures have been going pretty okay so far. thankfully, unlike in tutorials, topics are being taken extremely slow in the lecture theatres at the moment. as someone who has forgotten literally everything and absolutely needs a few reminders about how to handle simple shit like polynomials and vectors, i could not be more thankful. unfortunately, the laptop didn't come with a stylus so notetaking has been exclusively on microsoft word and on paper so far. that should hopefully change by the end of the day, though!!! then i just need to figure out how onenote works and transfer all of my notes from word/paper onto onenote to have everything kind of in one place and THEN it'll be so over for everyone else because i will lock the fuck in.

my badges

i brought so many badges up here with me and i'm going to leave with even more. i got given one from the local camp for the liberation of palestine and found a couple for the physics department. the lanyard has ended up being incredibly heavy so i don't use it to carry my ID card anymore (i have an actual ID card now, which kind of sucks because i liked my homemade one more), but it remains my second most complimented piece of fashion after my fontaines d.c. shirt. it's entirely responsible for one of my new besties starting conversation with me, which i'm incredibly grateful. we talked for ages about how overwhelming we were finding the "meet your cohort" afternoon since it was basically several hours of forced socialisation, but we somehow ended up as part of a group of five people talking about tons of random bullshit. not too bad for a couple of complete introverts!!!

every now and then i have the nerve to wear my trans flag pin out in public. i will soon be wearing it a whole lot more. i wrote a huge thing about trans stuff over the past few days but decided not to make it public because i spent most of it grossly oversharing, so uhh. whoops. i can't thank the people who have helped me get to this point enough. i owe you my life and like a million hugs. i know i suck at initiating conversation and might not be the easiest person to be friends with, but if you think that we might be friends, i assure you that we totally are. i have no idea where the line is drawn but i am always more than happy to call whoever wants to be one a friend.

twin squeaks

gravity falls summer is over and night in the woods autumn is in full swing, but i was hoping to get some early reading in before twin peaks winter hits. my parents sent me up with this box set thing that they have, but the second disk is literally unplayable meaning that i can only get as far as the pilot. kind of sucks. someday i'll find a way to watch this show without the universe cursing me.

record stores make me so happy

a signed copy of guitar music by courting??? are you fucking kidding me??? am i seriously going to have to buy this record AGAIN??? (maybe :3)

book on a shelf

it's a worrying sign for my mental state that i'm getting back into bright eyes, let alone starting to get lifted. lifted has always been the one record in their discography that i've found to be a little overrated, just because people call this the best or one of the best records conor's made when it doesn't make the top 10 for me. right now, though, it is hitting. i've listened to make war directly into you will (etc.) most days this past week. i've also remembered how badly i want to be able to play guitar. if i could pick up an acoustic guitar right now and be able to play you will and just perform that song whenever it's something i need to get out of my system, or do the same for just about any bright eyes song i guess, i think i would feel a whole lot healthier.

fevers and mirrors still clears this record so fucking hard, though. i completely agree with what ian cohen wrote about it recently, that you don't really get anything new out of it once you've aged out of finding songs with titles like "the center of the world" relatable, but it's an incredible time capsule for a time when everything felt like it mattered way more than it actually did. i miss feeling things. i miss feeling the kind of misery that brought me to fevers and mirrors in the first place rather than everything just being a grey fog now.

light decorations

i put up a few posters. the weyes blood poster from my vinyl copy of hearts aglow, obviously, as well as the grian chatten poster i got from my former local record store and a foals tour poster i got as a gift. not just any foals tour, by the way - a 2016 what went down-era foals tour with none other than get to heaven-era everything everything supporting. back then, you could go to the same show to hear both blast doors and birch tree. fucking insane.

i haven't decorated much because for the past week i have been incredibly ill and i don't know when it will end. i haven't felt well enough to do lectures or lab work or any of the shit that i'm being expected to do, but i doubt anyone else is either and they're all showing up for the same reasons i am - it's the first week and you can't afford to miss out on this stuff. plus, i like seeing my new friends, even if their first and only impression of me is "person who looks like a guy who is constantly on the brink of death and doesn't say anything ever." i'm definitely not putting my best foot forward here so far. somehow, it's still led to me finding or being found by some of the loveliest people i've ever met, so that's something to be grateful for. i wish i could stop feeling like shit now though. i hate this so much. i think that i'm past the worst part, though, which would've been over the weekend when i kept convincing myself i was dead and had a huge breakdown over an apple juice dispenser dispensing water. It's (probably) only up from here.

this concludes willow wednesday here on tumblr dot com. let me know how incredibly relatable my many squeakings are in the comments below, remember to like and subscribe and hit the bell or something :3 love u!!! thanks for reading <3

[jccinternationaltribunal]

Article from the New Youth Newspaper, written by Zheng Zhenduo, 04/05/1919:

Today, we have come to our Crossroads of Destiny! Students and Workers, we understand your struggles! We understand your needs and we hear your voice! We are tired of living in slums, while government officials live like emperors! We are tired of suffering humiliation in the international community, of which the Beiyang government had allowed to happen! We are tired of working like slaves for the government! It is time to take action!

Many of you think that I am just spouting nonsense, that I do not know what it is like to be in your shoes. I understand your doubts, and I will tell you the truth. I was born on 19 December 1898 in Yongjia. Together with my two younger sisters, I was raised by my caring mother. My father and grandfather died when I was a teenager. My family was poor, but that did not stop me from being who I am today. I understand how it feels to be born in poverty, to work so hard only for the elite to be born into high positions, and for us, the backbone of the nation, to be neglected and to be treated as second class citizens. I will not let that happen to our future generation, the ones who will lead China out of this messy situation!

That is why I would like to urge all of you to stage a peaceful protest at the Gate of Heavenly Peace, to show the Beiyang government that we will not stop, until they hear our voices! You have been at the mercy of your representatives in council, but I, Zheng Zhenduo, urge all of you to decide. Do you want immediate action, to let the Beiyang Government see that we are serious and not let them look down on us, or do you want the Beiyang Government to slowly consolidate power, and then take us all out before we can come to a consensus?

To the students, graduates and staff of the Beijing Railway Management Institute, as a representative of all of you, I now urge you to organise the Peaceful protest. To the Workers Union in Beijing and the students, graduates and staff of Peking University, it is up to you on whether or not to remain dormant, waiting for your superiors to bicker amongst themselves trying to shape China’s future, or to join the peaceful protest at the Gate of Heavenly Peace and shape your own future! The protests will start in Beijing, but rest assured, if the government does not give in to our demands, the protests will spread like wildfire. Glory to China!”

With the Beiyang government, there will be no new China! The Beiyang government has repeatedly proven their hostility to us, the common people. They burn down our houses, where innocent people had lived for years before. While I do believe that there are some good people within the government, I would like to remind you, the government has tricked us, making us think that they have distanced themselves from the Japanese when in reality, they were hiring mercenaries to act like the Japanese had resumed hostilities to China due to their anti-Japanese actions, which is a lie. The council of protestors is no better. We have been bitterly bickering over what actions we should take, and I would like to formally apologise on the behalf of our council to you, the common folk. I do believe that, if unified, our unions and institutions can better coordinate our peaceful protests, for lack of a better word. No matter who leads this new combined institution, it would surely be better than the Beiyang government. So, I would like to ask all staff, students, graduates, and workers who have sent delegates to the League of Protestors, do you think that the people that you have sent can help you? Do you think they are competent enough? Who do you pledge your loyalties to? Are you willing to take action? Because personally, I have had enough of negotiating and would implore all of you reading this, to resist the Beiyang government. I will leave you to answer these questions, as well as implore you to respond to the question through the New Youth Newspaper. To the common folk of China, from the delegate of Zheng Zhenduo.

[ultimateluckystudent-writes]

You Suck (So Passionately)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Komaeda and Reserve Course!Reader can't stay away and can't stand each other, so he gives you something to think of him by when you leave. Everybody wins and loses in this game of cat-and-mouse.

Or, in which the idea of hate-sex with Komaeda is rotting the author's brain.

Word Count: 4.5k

Content Warnings: Hate Sex, Power Dynamics, Under-Negotiated Kink, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Heavy Themes of BDSM, Degradation, Insults, Humiliation, Slightly Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationship, Use of Vibrators in Public, Semi-Public Sex, She/Her Pronouns for Reader When Applicable, Female Reader

General Tags/Themes: Brat!Reader, Brat Tamer!Komaeda, Reserve Course!Reader, Masochism, Sadism, Classroom Sex, Seriously He's Mean in This One, Orgasm Delay/Denial

A/N: I have.... two other wips of Reserve Course Reader and Komaeda... I'm trying to fit them into a Reserve Course Cinematic Universe, so I may add more chapters to this but it works as a stand alone, but I'll update it if they see the light of day <3

READ ON AO3

“Listen, uh, can we like… speed this thing up?”

Nagito paused mid-thrust.

“What?” He fixed you with the look he gave you every time you did something as stupid as he thought you were.

“It’s just that I have-” You interrupted yourself with a yawn. You really had no idea why you let him drag you out of bed so early in the morning when he demanded you come back to his room again basically every afternoon anyways.  “I have class in twenty, and I can’t-” He just laughed like you made a joke, then continued to fuck you at the same pace. Perhaps even slower, actually, and deep enough to elicit a squeak from your mouth at the sudden feeling.

“Are you seriously asking me for something for your pathetic excuse for classes?” He scoffed. “What does it matter if you miss ten minutes? Or thirty for that matter? What separates any of you from useless, normal, high school dropouts but the pity this school takes on you?” He purred the words like dirty talk, and if you didn’t find that so alluring, you certainly wouldn’t have been doing this- whatever this was between you and Nagito- for as long as you had.

“I hate your fucking guh- ah-” His teeth sunk into you, sending your nails into the skin of his back. You could feel his sharp smirk curled around your collarbone.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite make it out.”

“God, you’d fuck so much better if you stopped talking.” You growled. The smirk tensed just a bit into a sneer. Unfortunately for you, instead of making him speed up like you’d hoped, he only slowed more. You groaned in disappointment, both from your worry about the clock, and the loss of sensation.

“You won’t be able to trick me. Nothing scum like you could come up with could fool me. I’ll take my time with you how I’d like, just how I always do.” The slow drag of him, in and out, was like torture. You could do nothing but wrap your legs around him tighter, fruitlessly, and look up into his stupid, smug face. “In fact, I think you might actually be more useful as an Ultimate’s toy instead of sitting in your play-pretend classes.” He practically giggled. You couldn’t help but moan at the title, which he more than noticed. “See, doll? I think you agree.” He continued his pace, picking apart the threads keeping you together with each movement of his hips.

By the time you had both finished, you already knew you were going to be late for class. You let yourself take the smallest breather before stumbling up and pulling on your clothes. He’d thrown them around the room like he was trying to make it difficult for you. He simply watched you, drumming his fingers over the spot on the bed where you had just been, that infuriating look on his face you knew meant he had something planned. You pretended not to notice as you moved towards the door.

“Okay, later-”

“Wait.” He ordered. Your hand was on the doorknob. You grit your teeth. You knew he had waited for the very last minute just to fuck with you.

“What, Komaeda?” You turned around, glaring openly at him. “I need to go-”

“I know.” He sat up and began casually looking through his bedside drawer. It wouldn’t have surprised you if he’d begun to hum a tune to himself. Right as you opened your mouth, he pulled something out. It was a small, pink device made of silicone-

“No.” You said at once, shaking your head fervently. “No, no, no, no, no-”

“Put it on.” He said simply, holding it out for you to take. His tone was so serious that you almost obliged.

“Why? I would just leave it off anyways.”

“Do you ever feel ashamed about the questions you ask?” He cocked his head. For a split second, you almost thought it wasn’t a rhetorical question, only embarrassing you further. “Obviously I can control it. I’m not giving you something just because I think you’ll miss me. Now go on.” You glared at him, unmoving. He met your eye, as calm as ever. As always, this was a battle of wills. 

As always, Nagito won.

*****

“(L/N)-san, this is the second time this week you are more than fifteen minutes late to class.” Everybody in the room had their eyes on you. ‘God he should have just taped a ‘kick me’ sign to me. It would have been less fucking embarassing.’ “I’m afraid you know the policy. That’s detention tonight.” Your homeroom teacher frowned at you. You took the detention slip she wrote you without a word and took your seat with your eyes pointed towards the ground. As you sat there, book cracked open and immediately zoning out, you felt your anger grow towards Nagito instead of inwards.

‘That fucking freak. Getting me detention just to stick this thing in my panties.’ You felt much warmer than usual. In your panties was the small vibrator he had eventually coaxed on you in your effort to minimize your tardiness. ‘There’s no way he’d actually do it, right? It wouldn’t be fun to mess with me if he can’t even see it.’

Despite that, you could still feel it pressing against your most sensitive spots the entire day, shifting when you fidgeted, moving as you walked. You felt as though everybody must have been able to see how hard you were blushing, but not even your friends said anything. Besides that, you waited all day with baited breath and a hand ready to shoot up and loudly announce you had to go to the bathroom. You thought of at least six different excuses, each worst than the last, just to cover the potentially loud buzz of the device. By mid-day, you knew you had soaked through your panties, and you were terrified it was going to slip right out and onto the floor with how wet you were. But the clip held up, only to torment you some more.

When the last bell rung, you were the first out the door.

‘Just detention left, just detention left, just detention left and then I can go to the restroom, mop up, and go home.’ As you hurried over, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Nagito, as curt and demanding as it always was.

‘My room. 30.’

You snorted as you tapped out a response.

‘Yeah, no. Some asshole caused me to be late again today, which means I’ve got detention. Nice work, idiot. By the way, I think your stupid toy is broken. I didn’t feel anything all day. You’ll have to find another way to mess with me.’ 

‘What makes you think that I’d turned it on yet?’

“Cell-phone in the bin, please, ma’am.” A sunny, orange-hair woman who barely looked old enough to be out of the Academy herself said. It snapped you out of the slight sense of dread and shame as you read the text. You shook your head and obliged. You didn’t recognize her, or know what she was doing here. Usually, your homeroom teacher was the one who ran detention. As if she were reading your mind, she said, “I’m filling in for the usual teacher. I’m Yukizome-sensei. Please, take your seat and sit quietly or do some work.” You glanced around. A couple of other kids were already there too, most of them with their heads down. You weren’t usually allowed to sleep through detention. You decided this was a stroke of luck. You gave her a polite smile and gave her your slip, watching as she checked you off of a list. You sat down, glancing at the clock.

In your haste and smugness, you didn’t even think about removing the vibrator before you left, so it sat there as a firm reminder of the temper you’d surely be met with when you responded to Nagito. For the moment, however, you took off your blazer and arranged it into a sort of pillow, getting comfortable when-

“Ah, hello, Yukizome-sensei!”

‘No fucking way.’

“Komaeda-kun! Good afternoon, what are you doing here? Did you manage to get yourself detention somehow?” She seemed to be jokingly scolding him, but you knew it was only kind of a joke. The sweet smile on Nagito’s face was foreign to you. He floated in like he didn’t have a care in the world. You noticed that his hand was bandaged, and that it hadn’t been this morning. ‘Serves him right. What the fuck is he doing here?’

“Oh, no, I simply saw you as I was passing by on my way out. I didn’t know you ran detention.” He took the opportunity to glance out across the classroom. Nobody else seemed to care about what was happening up front. He met your eye for just a second too long, inscruitable, before turning right back to her. You did your best to act normal, knowing full well he was merely there to taunt you.

“Not usually- I’m filling in for another teacher. If you’re just here to chat Komaeda-kun, why don’t you come see me before class tomorrow-”

“Well, actually, I went to your classroom to see if you could help me out with some work I got today, but you weren’t there. I seem to have lucked in and caught you here! Would it be alright if we go over it for just a few minutes?” His smile was angelic, wholly innocent. You almost couldn’t believe that the sadistic man who’d once made you grovel and kiss his shoes just for kicks. Not that you hadn’t enjoyed that. You wondered what that smile would have looked like from that lowly angle-

“Of course! That’s no problem at all.” Yukizome said, making the pit of nerves in your stomach knot further. You didn’t know what Nagito had planned, but he always had something planned. You knew trying to sleep was a waste. You huffed a defeated sigh and pulled out one of your textbooks to begin working, doing your best to tune out the voice you could pick out of a crowd talking about algebra like he would anywhere else.

As you’d finally become a bit successful in your offer, your panties began to buzz.

At first, you were more alarmed than aroused. It was a strange sensation, and you almost couldn’t stop yourself from looking around to see if anyone had noticed, but you were rows away in every direction from the nearest person, and they were sleeping. You drummed your fingers on the desk. 

‘Okay. Okay. If I just… just shift this way, I can’t feel it as much-’ Right as you adjusted yourself, trying to move it away from your clit, but you jumped as the vibration increased and it backfired. You let out a small squeak, causing Yukizome’s eyes to drift over to you for just a second. Next to hers, a pair of cold, green, grey eyes lingered on you. You couldn’t tell if you imagined his smile being more predatory than before. 

‘This is fine, this is fine, I can just- I can just-’ But no matter how you moved, it was simply too much. Your insides twisted with the fear of your peers noticing, yes, but knowing that Nagito was here to watch you front and center was nerve-wracking. ‘That fucking sicko! He planned this all! He fucking knew! I’m gonna gut that twink like a god damn fish hnngahh-’ All of your thoughts short circuited as Nagito began a different pattern. You looked up, you had to know how he was doing this. In his hand was a small, pink remote. In the other, he pointed at something at the page and asked Yukizome a question.

And the truth was, you wanted him to watch you keep your composure. You hoped it would spite him. You grit your teeth together and tried even harder to focus on your work. You could tell by the way he simply kept clicking the speed up and up. You eventually had to bite down on your book, giving up on the pretense of work and now simply trying not to let your eyes roll up and into the back of your head.

The feeling was building and building, and truly nobody but you and Nagito seemed any the wiser. You were at the back of the room, and you’d kept pretty quiet so far. You began to consider letting yourself cum from this, and it only became more and more appealing of an idea as he toyed with you.

It seemed like he could tell exactly when you wanted to let your dignity falter and considered letting him win. He raised and lowered the speeds accordingly, keeping you on the brink, frustrating as always. But part of you didn’t even mind. You knew you could keep up the silence like this for the rest of the period, as exhausting as it would be. What you didn’t know was if you could when you came.

Still, every time you approached the brink, you got closer and closer to teetering off the edge, and soon you were barely even considering the consequences. Per usual, Nagito took cat and mouse to a whole new level. He batted you around until you were limp, helpless in his hands, though he always found the fight you put up entertaining. You could almost hear the annoying monologue he would surely give you if he ever heard you thinking like that.

‘And just like in the metaphor, the cat is simply stronger than the mouse. Everyone knows it will win in the end. And frankly, it’s almost sad it would struggle in the first place-’

“(L/N)-san? Um, are you feeling alright, dear?” Yukizome-sensei was looking right at you. You realized you’d been practically panting, red-faced and almost sweating. You couldn’t even imagine the picture you must have made. You couldn’t even look at Nagito.

“Ye- Yeah, I’m-” You croaked, your mouth dry.

“You look feverish. Come here, let me feel your forehead.” She waved you up. You felt your eyes widen in fear before you could cover it. Nagito did absolutely nothing about the vibrations. You shook your way to your feet and miraculously began to walk towards her. “Oh dear, does your stomach hurt?” Yukizome was clearly fretting now. She looked down at your hands, which were clutched over your stomach. It was completely subconscious, but hey, whatever you could work.

“Yeah.” You nodded quickly. You leaned over her desk to let her feel your forehead. Nagito’s eyes were boring into you, as palpable as Yukizome’s cool hand, but you completely ignored her.

“You’re really warm.” She confirmed. The laugh that escaped Nagito made you want to melt into a puddle, and your lower half seemed to have caught the memo. “Why don’t you go to the nurse’s office?”

“What?” Nagito scoffed at once. He gave you a quick once over. “She’s clearly just another Reserve Course making a pathetic attempt to fake her way out of detention.”

“Komaeda-kun!” Yukizome scolded. “Your Reserve Course peers are just as much a part of the school as you are.”

“Just as much a part of the school’s budget, perhaps.” He muttered quietly.

“Alright then, why don’t you escort her to the Nurse’s Office and make sure she makes it there?” Nagito opened his mouth. In that brief instance, your eyes met. A silent conversation was had. Your stomach twisted and turned into knots just looking at him, but maybe that was the toy too.

“Yes, Yukizome-sensei. Thank you for all your help.” He finally relented. He began to pack his work up slowly, and with a dramatic sigh. “Come on then.” He nodded towards the door. You stumbled out after him.

He said nothing as you walked into the hallway. You felt both more and less worried about being too obvious here next to him. He didn’t adjust the speed. However, he was walking slowly as you neared the end of the hallway, letting you catch up.

As soon as you turned the corner, however, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you away. You stifled a groan as he practically hauled you into the nearest empty classroom. He locked the door behind him.

“Woah, Ultimate classrooms lock?” You couldn’t help but look around in awe. He laughed, like he always did. It’d slipped out before you thought about it.

“This is a lab. Of course it locks.” He rolled his eyes. “God, you worms really don’t know anything about what it’s like not to crawl.” Even if you’d known nothing about him, the way he licked his lips with that glint in his eyes would have given away his perverted enjoyment. He wasted no more time, taking quick, sure strides to you and pressing you into the desk behind you so hard your back bent as you tilt yourself to meet his lips. The moans you’d been holding back came out in an embarrassing, guttural noise.You wrapped your legs around his waist, sliding back and sitting on the table.

His hands roamed over your body, groping you forcefully. His tongue found its way into your mouth with no hesitance. You couldn’t help but give into him. It seemed as though he was so sure that you were simply his, and he always had been.

“Turn around.” He ordered, like he wasn’t already moving your hips into the position that suited him best. You let him flip you over and push you onto the desk, hissing in pain. His hands quickly found their way under your skirt and under your panties. Things always moved quickly between the two of you, and today seemed to be the most rushed of all. Nagito finally, finally turned the vibrator off, pulling it from your panties with a wet noise. 

“Look at this-” He laughed, breathless as he held it up between his fingers right in front of your face. It shone in the sunset pouring through the windows. It would have been oddly beautiful if it weren’t just a luridly pink way for Nagito to fuck with you. You turned your head away, blatantly and needlessly disobeying him. He seemed less than impressed. He took your cheeks with the hand not holding the toy and angled your face towards him. It was a strain on your neck, but he just smiled at you. You hated that you had long since been able to determine what most of Nagito’s smiles meant. “If you don’t want this, then I suppose I could take it and leave.” 

“...then I guess you can stay.” Your words didn’t come out with nearly as much force as you wanted them to. His expression didn’t change. He simply made a soft noise of agreement, put the toy down on the desk carelessly on the desk, and plunged two fingers within you all at once. You practically shrieked, clutching onto the edges of the table with your nails.

“Ahaha… you’re dripping. I can feel it all the way down your thighs.” He purred. “I honestly didn’t even expect you to keep it in for a class, much less through the entire day.” He began to fuck his fingers in and out of you at a lazy, uncaring pace. You could barely focus on what he said. You’d covered up all day, and you simply didn’t have the energy to anymore. You could feel just how deep you needed him at the moment, and it had long since gotten uncomfortable. You shamelessly rocked your hips against his long fingers, hoping you could do it yourself if he wouldn’t. “Look at you! You’re even more desperate than usual. I’m sure you could have thrown yourself at any of those boys in your class.” He sneered, his pace quickening, as if it was your fault his imagination had angered him. Regardless, it was a welcome side effect. “I’ve seen the way they leer at women- at you- and you were so wet I think I could smell it-” 

“Shut up.” You whined, pressing your hips even more insistently against him. “God, you say such embarrassing shit!” You hissed, and if you weren’t already flushed, you likely would have gone red from just the way Nagito had phrased it.

“Shut up?” He repeated, tone even. His fingers completely stilled, just an inch of their tips still inside of you. You squeezed around them, bemoaning the loss. “Alright then, speak.” He grabbed ahold of your hair and pulled you up by the painful grip so his mouth was right by your ear. “I know you’re not above fucking in bathrooms and classrooms and even outside- so why not take one of them?”

You knew what he wanted. That was the only thing that made this violate, almost hateful thing between the two of you work. You always knew what he wanted, and he knew the same for you. You’d gravitated towards each other like the first look was a shared, whispered confession.

“I’m not interested in any of them.” You denied it to him. His grip on your hair tightened. The noise from your throat was frustrated, pained, and deeply aroused.

“Ah, no one from the class of rejects was interesting enough for you? Shocking.” His laughter was cold and mocking, the outburst of sound almost loud enough to be painful right by your ear. “But you don’t exactly show a propensity for interesting conversation, yourself.” He taunted. His hand slipped out of you, but around immediately to roughly grope one of your breasts. After only a moment, he slid it under your shirt and pulled down your bra. His fingers circled your nipples gently at first, which still threatened to cause your knees to give out on your over-stimulated body, but that only lasted a moment, too. He pinched and tugged, making you gasp and press your chest further into his hand. In that moment, he sank his teeth into the new bit of neck you’d just exposed as if he knew exactly how you’d react.

“You’ll leave marks-”

“What does it matter?” He cooed. “No one you’re interested in, right?” He licked the whole way up your neck and ear with the flat of his tongue, a warm, slimy feeling accompanying the filthy action. Despite that, you couldn’t help but want to get even closer to him, to feel that tongue over any inch of your body you could get it-

“Komaeda,” You grabbed at any piece of clothing you could reach behind you. “Komaeda.” You pleaded.

“Hmm?”

“I- I-” You knew exactly what he wanted to hear. You knew what he wanted. Always. “I don’t want them, I don’t want any Reserve Course guy-”

“Of course you don’t, who would?”

“No, no, I- I don’t want any Ultimate either.” The two of you had begun grinding against each other. You could feel his hard-on through all of your clothes. He was panting and moaning softly in your ear as you spoke. “Fuck, I- I want you, nobody else can- god, I want the way you fucking wreck me-”

There was a split second of unfastening and tugging and then-

“FUCK!” You shouted, making Nagito immediately clap a hand around your mouth at the reaction to his first brutal, perfect thrust. But even if he had had the capacity to scold you, you certainly didn’t have it to listen. Instead, you moaned unabashedly, though muffled by him, and spread your legs even wider. You wrapped your foot around the back of one of his calves and he set a pace that began to rock the desk with each thrust. You could do nothing but hold on as he gave as much as he got.

“Yes, yes, yes, my perfect, reprehensible pet,” Nagito babbled to his captive audience. His blazer had long since begun to slip off of his shoulders, and now he let it fall onto the floor. The sound of his hips hitting yours is almost louder than his voice. “You’re mine, you’re mine-” Even as you were connected intimately, he grabbed and squeezed whatever his wandering hands fell upon. “Mine to use, mine to make beg- they’re going to see your marks and know you belong to someone and not know who- like,” His crazed giggling broke his words apart. “Like some sort of stray with a collar!” He was laughing at you once more, but it felt only like another one of the overwhelming sensations about to make you cum. He grabbed your leg and put it on the desk as well, only going deeper within you. On the most lovely side of painful, he took you apart. Your mind blanked save for the feeling of his hands, his breath, his warmth against you-

With you tensing around him, he followed shortly after, his own moan unfettered by anything. The first thing you took note of was when you snapped out of your daze was the feeling of his cum inside of you. You were still too far gone to do much but moan, however, and slump onto the desk completely. Neither of you said anything when Nagito did the same, pressed up against and inside of you.

Deep cutting insults, praise that had been twisted and perverted, even the necessary intimacy for sex were easy for the two of you. The conversation that followed never was. More often than not, you gave up on it, letting the ringing in your ears speak for itself as you fixed yourselves to go back out to the world.

“Hey, um, where should…” You trailed off, holding up the toy. Nagito took it and stowed it away in his pocket. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Silence lingered on, and so did the two of you. You’d never admit it, but you always put on your clothes slower than usual when it was time for you to leave Nagito. To say you enjoyed his company was still a bit of a stretch, but right after you parted, the space around you always seemed so much more… empty. For a split second, your mind conjured an image of walking out holding hands, of going to grab dinner together-

“See you.” You said instead, shrugging your backpack over your shoulder, composed as you could while dismissing the man whose cum was still inside of you. He barely acknowledged you, a small nod and a twitch of the hand. You slipped out from the classroom, refusing to look back as you hurried your way down the dark, empty hallway.

[five-rivers]

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

.

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

.

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.

[starconsumer444]

Just found you and already smitten with your dark content. Could you maybe write either Kuroo/Suna/Tendou/Bokuto (whichever u choose) brother or stepbrother catching sister/stepsister trying to masturbate but not knowing how so they edge her relentlessly until she agrees to let him have sex with her because he's tricked her thats the only way she can really cum the first-time? Finishing with a nice cream pie?

Older Brother!Suna (18+)

A/N:Thank you thank youuu~ I’m sorry I didn’t go with the “relentless” edging, I just did it one time because it was getting long and I have a sick and twisted sadomasochistic habit of writing from the late hours of the night until the early hours of the morning and getting dead tired half way through. I’m not sure if that was all that great in comparison to my other works, but I really hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

(CW/TW: Incest, Virginity [Suna makes it hurt too, but there is an orgasm <3], Coercion, Dubcon, Edging??? Or just flat-out orgasm denial...,Age gap??? [Reader is 18, Suna is 25] Fingering, Creampie, Absolutely Clueless reader..., Masturbation, Suna is an asshole in this one, Deception, Manipulation and PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!!!)

Unfortunately for you, university wasn't all that it was talked up to be in terms of sex and anything else really. You went into your first year thinking you were gonna lose your virginity, make new friends, go to frat parties, and just have all-around wild experiences. Suna, when he was in school, would always come back with cool stories to tell you, and had a new girlfriend every break he got. To have cool experiences like your big brother was the only reason you wanted to go, but unfortunately for you, it was none of that. Maybe it’s because you’re not an athlete like him, but it was studies, a newfound coffee addiction, and a roommate that never seemed to go anywhere. All that on top of your dead social life, absolutely miserable..

When Suna came to pick you up from the airport so you two could spend the holidays with your parents (a tradition no matter how old either of you get), you told him all about it. Sure, you didn’t grow up particularly close with him being seven years older and all, but he was still your older brother and no topic seemed to be off limits with him, so it was nice. He wasn’t the most doting older sibling and definitely not the most talkative either, but he was good for listening. Really, listening was his strong suit.

You told him about your lackluster social life and your mountains of schoolwork, but, even knowing he wouldn’t mind, you didn’t tell him about the sex stuff. Why would you? He’s your older brother. He shouldn’t know things like that about you.

Needless to say, you go home for winter break a sexually frustrated virgin. Maybe, if you had tried a little harder with the people at school it wouldn’t have come to this?

The house had been dead silent when you decided to, for the first time, attempt to masturbate. You were sure no one was home, not your mom, not your dad, and not your older brother, Suna. Still, you could’ve at least checked before you completely stripped your lower half.

It wasn’t going well, you had two fingers inside yourself and you didn’t feel anything. You felt like a doctor doing a self-probe at best. It just felt... wrong? But this is how the girls in porn do it, right? There’s no way you’re getting this wrong. You’re doing exactly what you see; moving your fingers in and out, even curling them a bit… What could you possibly be doing wrong?

Suna watches you silently from your slightly cracked door.

Pitiful, he thinks.

He was just coming by to ask if you wanted anything from the store because he was headed out. He didn’t expect to see his little sister struggling with her fingers in her cunt. He can postpone that walk to the corner-store to bond with his little sister.

He doesn’t even bother knocking to spare you the humiliation, just pushes the door open and lets himself right in.

You notice him immediately and let out a loud scream, closing your legs and trying to hide yourself by turning away from him. You want to disintegrate. Your body is burning up with embarrassment.

What does he want? Why now?

You feel his weight make your childhood bed dip and you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. One of his calloused hands caresses your thigh and you don’t move away from it the way you know you’re supposed to. You’re frozen.

What is he doing?

“Suna, get out!” You turn to look at him and grab his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Can’t he take a hint? “What are you-”

“You’re not doing it right.” He pipes up. In the back of his mind he knows this is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this with his baby sister.

“Huh?” You’re clearly lost.

“I’ve done this before, let me help you.”

It takes nothing for him to separate your legs and settle himself in between them.

“You’re still a virgin?” His fingers slide gently up and down the wetness between your folds and it draws a sharp whimper and a harsh nod from you.

Suna is twenty-five and has enough sense about himself to know this is wrong. He’s not going to try to rationalize it. He’s just taking a golden opportunity even if that opportunity is his little sister. He has a knack for corrupting innocent girls like you; it’s fun for him even if it’s sick and perverted.

The dirty feeling you get having your brother touching and eyeing your most intimate parts is intense. You want him to keep going, but you know you should tell him to stop.

“Suna, this isn't okay.”

He shushes you but nods his head.

“I’m just helping you.” He says matter-of-factly. “It’s not like you can make yourself cum. Let your big brother help you, okay?” He insists and pushes two fingers inside your hole.

You scoot back out of shock and let out a surprised yelp, “O-okay,”

If he hears the nerves in your voice, he doesn’t do anything to acknowledge it. All he does is scoot closer and offer a gentle smile, the same brotherly one he gave you when he left for college and you cried wanting him to stay. That smile.

It feels so different when he fingers you. He’s not being as rough as you were and he’s definitely more practiced; you’re sure there’s tons of girls he’s done this too. It feels good, especially with him rubbing pleasant circles into your clit. You shouldn’t like this as much as you do.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm,”

He starts to speed up, and you clap your hand over your mouth to stop the moans from being too loud in case you two weren’t the only ones home. His fingers are like magic and you don’t know how to react.

With the stimulation to your clit and his fingers inside you, above cloud nine is where you are. You’ve never felt like this, and there’s a tinge of guilt about it being with your brother but this is too good.

As cute as you look with your heaving chest and your eye’s starting to unfocus, he knows he’s not done with you. When he feels you start to spasm around his fingers he pulls them out, because this may be his only chance to use you, his little sister.

He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean like the perv he knows he is. It leaves you staring with your mouth hanging open, clearly searching for the words.

“What?” He asks, feigned puzzledness all over his expression. “You taste good.” He chuckles inwardly, you cringe internally. That’s not what you were going to ask, though.

“No…” You can’t look at him, so you look down and play with the sheets on your bed.

“Come on, what is it?”

“I think I was going to cum… and you-”

“That’s dumb, you can’t cum from being fingered.” There’s a seriousness in his tone, you take it as fact; he knows he’s lying.

“But the girls in porn-”

“It’s porn, it’s not realistic.”

You’ve heard that before. You guess it’s true, especially if Suna says it. It must be.

Thank god for shitty sex ed, he muses internally because without it, this wouldn’t be possible.

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks curiously.

All you offer in response is a meek nod. You’re not actually certain on going through with your brother making you cum, but if it’s anything like the way he made you feel just now… maybe, it’s not so bad.

He tells you to lay down, and you do so without hesitation. With your legs splayed open over his thighs, it feels grosser knowing your brother has an even clearer view of you. You wish you had the self control to just say no and end this.

He pulls his sweats and underwear down; if your heartbeat wasn’t going crazy before it definitely is now. His dick is thick and long. He’s rock hard, his tip is pinker than the rest of it, and there’s clear stuff leaking out. It looks like it’s going to hurt, even looks like it’s hurting him right now.

“Suna, wait is this-” You don’t know how to finish. “I’m a virgin.”

“I know, you told me already.” He’s not really paying attention to you. He spits on his hand and rubs it all up and down his length. It’ll hardly help more than the fingering, but it’s a kindness he’s willing to give his little sister. “Just… relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says as he leans over you, guiding his length to your entrance.

Immediately you clench and shut him out.

“I-I’m sorry I just-”

“It’s fine, just relax like I said.”

You do, and he starts to push in. It burns. Stings? Something like a mix of those two.

Even if there was lube for you to use, Suna wouldn’t have offered. He likes the way his baby sisters' face contorts  in pain and confusion. You look cute losing your virginity to your big brother.

“AH-” It’s a sharp, pained exclamation coming from you as your hand pushes at his chest. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders now and he’s impaling you slowly inch by agonizing inch. You can feel him stretch you, but you don’t want him to stop, you’ve waited so long for this.

One of his hands rests on your lower stomach and you beg him to do anything to make you feel better when he’s all the way in. He rubs at your clit and leans over to kiss you like you’re his girlfriend.

Without warning he starts to move. It’s nothing but shallow and slow thrusts that have you feeling every inch of him. If it’ll make you cum, you can handle it. All you want is to cum. Combined with his fingers working on your clit, you’re sure you will, right?

Your moans are soft, even if it doesn’t feel that great. The girls in porn moan all the time, it’s the right thing to do.

When he feels like he’s been kind enough, he starts to move faster. You start to get used to it and your legs start to shake from the combined stimulation and strain from being bent at such an angle.

It’s like magic. Your orgasm washes over you,your eyes roll into the back of your head, your body shakes and your back arches off your soiled sheets.

Shock is plastered on Sunas typically inexpressive face. He didn’t expect you to actually...

His little sister is so sensitive. Most girls wouldn’t climax like that their first time. There’s an unspoken sense of pride in this for him. Still, he’s not stopping until he cums too.

You’re whining and squirming up under him, pushing at his hips and moving his hand away from your clit like him continuing is killing you after you’ve worked through your first orgasm. He assures you that’s how it’s supposed to feel and you’re supposed to wait until he cums too.

Once more, you’re laying there in discomfort and he’s getting off to it. Suna knows he’s wrong for it but he just can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s so close. He especially doesn’t care when he sees your horrified expression as you feel him paint your walls with his warm cum. He’ll make sure you don’t get pregnant later, but for right now he wants to savor this moment.

[emitheduck]

So. We're Soulmates? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: my first soulmate AU, and I figured it was finally time, and bucky deserved one lol. no spoilers whatsoever

Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate’s birthday tattooed on your arm ---

March 10th, 1917.

(Y/n) had always thought, there was no possible way that the universe had ever, ever gotten her soulmate’s birthday right. When everyone was celebrating that their soulmate was around the same age as them, she got to look down in horror as she could practically see her soulmate’s life fly by. There was legitimately no possible way that her soulmate would even still be alive.

The rules of the soulmate were strange, and no one ever understood them or questioned them. It was found out sometime in the 80s that the dates on peoples forearms weren’t random--but the birthday of their soulmate. Because the universe was a cosmic nightmare, when someone’s soulmate died, the numbers went with them.

That’s what made this so strange.

Either (Y/n)’s soulmate was hanging onto life support, or the universe had fucked up and decided it was going to trick her into thinking she could find happiness like everyone else.

She had these feelings up until she got the faithful call one day, that she had landed the job with SHIELD and found out that she would be working in the helicarrier during the attack on New York. And that’s how she met Steve Rogers.

“You know, it’s kind of funny.” Steve sighed with a chuckle, shaking his head as he followed (Y/n) who was leading him to where he would be staying.

“What is?” She asked as she typed in the access code for one of the doors as they walked.

“The number on your arm. That’s my friend’s birthday.” Steve was smirking as he walked into his room. “I mean, it was his birthday.”

(Y/n) looked down at the date on her arm and sighed, her hand instinctively covering the date. “You sure he’s dead? Not some hundred-year-old veteran in a nursing home that you haven’t checked in on or something?” She was trying her best to not sound horrible for joking about his friend's death, but he seemed almost amused by her banter.

“Last I checked, he’s dead. I watched him fall off the train and everything.” He told her as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “His name was Bucky.” He told her as she turned around to leave, watching her stop for a moment to listen before she left.

Steve’s words always lingered in the back of her mind ever since that day on the helicarrier. She had seen the Bucky memorial spot in the museum, and the day she found out that he was alive, she would never forget (mostly because when it happened, she had dropped the bottle of wine she was holding on the floor and spent hours picking up tiny shards of glass).

The year was now 2023. Five years after the blip, and (Y/n) now fully retired from SHIELD. She left on good terms, but the years of working were just exhausting. Especially now that she came back after vanishing for five years and had to rebuild her life all over again. At least they were respectful, and were happy to give her the pay that she had missed out on.

It was hard enough having to deal with knowing all your close friends sacrificed themselves for the whole world, and not being able to do anything about it. That was the reason that kept her up most nights. The guilt of feeling like she could have done something, but never got the chance to, was the hardest feeling.

That’s what led (Y/n) to walking aimlessly around the grocery store at almost 2am. When she couldn’t sleep, sometimes the best thing to do was walk around pushing the cart and praying that the LED lights would calm her down enough to go home and face the empty apartment.

What she didn’t expect was turning the corner of the frozen section and crashing her cart into someone elses. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/n) apologize as she looked at the man in front of her. “I should have been looking. I guess I’m just tired.”

“I’m probably just tired too.” He chuckled, pulling his cart away from hers. Both the carts were empty anway. “You come here to walk around at night too?”

“How could you tell?” (Y/n) laughed, running a hand through her hair as she looked him over. He looked familiar, and knowing her luck he was some assassin that was stalking her, and came here to finish the job.

He motioned to their empty carts with a bob of his head. “Something about just pushing the carts around and listening to the crappy music makes me feel better too.” He smirked as he never broke eye contact. “Also, people normally buy food when they’re shopping.”

(Y/n) sighed, nodding. “You caught me. I’m just here to wander.”

“It’s okay. I am too. Sometimes staring at the TV isn’t enough.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he broke eye contact to look where his hands were gripping the handle of the cart. “Sorry, I’m just rambling I guess.”

“No, I get it.” She laughed it off, knowing it was late and sometimes people just kept talking when they were tired. “My names (Y/n).” She smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He seemed to hesitate, but reached out and shook her hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

She could feel her mouth go dry. “Bucky?” There was just no, possible way that this was the man who has been in the back of her mind for years on end.

“I’m guessing you know who I am.” He muttered, already preparing himself to turn around and forget this interaction never happened. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait! No, I didn’t mean it like that.” (Y/n) exclaimed as she held her hands out to stop him from leaving. “I just have heard so much about you--not the way you think, it sounds so weird. I talked to Steve about you once, way back before the battle of New York.”

She peaked his interest at the mention of Steve. “You knew Steve?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He told me all about you. Look, I even have your birthday on my arm.” She told him, lifting up her sleeve to show him the date on her arm, watching his eyes go wide out of shock. “Steve liked to always tease me that I had your birthday, and I always told him that I probably had some old man, sitting in some hospital bed, decaying before our eyes. Wow, I am rambling, I am so sorry. I should leave.” She was bright red as she decided to just leave her cart where it was and accept the humiliation and leave.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Bucky told her, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. “I guess now that you showed me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He grinned as he let go of her arm, using his left hand to pull up his long sleeve. There on his arm, in bold black numbers was (Y/n)’s birthday clear as day.

“Do you maybe want to go get coffee at that 24 hour place across the street? We might have a bit we need to talk about.” She was dumbfounded. Steve would always tease and joke, telling her that Bucky was her soulmate just because it was the same birthday on her arm. But due to the fact that he was presumed dead for so long, (Y/n) never thought anything of it.

“Are you going to come inside? I’ve been holding the door open for almost a minute.” Bucky asked, laughing a little uncomfortably as he watched the woman just stand at the door of the diner. She didn’t even remember the walk to get there.

(Y/n) blinked, rubbing her eyes as she nodded and walked inside. The sign said seat yourself, and she found a nice seat by the window for the two of them. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little speechless.”

He chuckled as he shifted in the booth. “I’ll be honest. Me too.”

“So. We’re soulmates.” She shrugged, feeling uncertain of herself. Finding her soulmate was never the first thing on her mind, because she never actually thought that she would find him. Sure, the universe also had a way of making the two cross paths at some point, but because of the age, she never cared.

“When I used to see the date on my arm, I thought it was a joke.” He told her, mumbling that he wanted a coffee when the waiter walked over and asked what they wanted. “She wants a coffee. Two cream, one sugar.” He said as the other man nodded and walked away.

“How did you know my coffee order?” She asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Bucky opened his mouth like he was about to speak but sighed. “I legit have no idea. My brain was working for me, and it just came out.”

(Y/n) laughed. “I mean, we’re cosmically linked so it does make sense.” The coffee was set down in front of them and she smiled as she held onto the mug. “Is this when I ask if you can tell me about yourself?”

“Where do I start?” He asked as he set his coffee down after taking a sip. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. James is only for when shit hits the fan I guess.”

“I think I prefer Bucky.” She smiled, watching as his cheeks turned red for a moment.

“What about you Doll? What fun thing do you have to tell me?” Bucky asked her with a smirk, making it her turn to blush.

“I worked for SHIELD, that’s where I met Steve. But then there was that time we found out that Hydra was inside of SHIELD, and technically you tried to kill me.” She pointed out, watching as he put his head down in shame. “But that’s all in the past now. I’m not that person anymore.”

He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. “What changed?”

(Y/n) sighed, shaking her head as she held onto her coffee mug for warmth. “I was pretty close with Steve and Natasha. Tony helped me get the job at SHIELD, too. Three people that I looked up to more than anything, were gone before I ever got a chance to say goodbye.” She told him, knowing that there would be no more tears left to cry. Her tear-ducts seemed to stop working after she had cried for days straight that they were gone.

“I wasn’t very close to anyone but Steve, but I do understand how you feel.” He told her, leaning across the table to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Do you live in the city?”

“I live pretty close to Hell’s Kitchen.” She told him, watching as he nodded. “I’m guessing you live in Brooklyn?”

He looked a little surprised, but still smiled. “How could you tell?”

She smiled back, a little shy. “Some part of me just knew, but the other part of me heard Steve talk about Brooklyn all the time. He loved it there, and I guess I thought you did too.”

“It’s definitely still amazing, but a lot has changed. I’m still getting used to it all.” Bucky confessed, putting down some money for the coffee as they both finished and stood up from the table.

(Y/n) checked her phone and sighed at the time. 3:30 in the morning, and there was no way she was going to sleep now. Now, she was going to ride the train and hope that the rocking of the subway would be enough to turn her mind off for a while. “I should get going. It’s getting late, and I’m taking the train back.”

He nodded, seeming a little uneasy that she was about to leave. “Do you maybe want my number? We could meet up someday, maybe get to know eachother better?”

She grinned as she handed him her phone. “Put your number in.” She told him as they traded phones, smirking as she put in her contact. “I put my information as (Y/n)-Soulmate, just in case you seemed to forget.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Bucky chuckled as he looked at her contact. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Considering the fact I’ve known you for a few hours, and I’m already completely head-over-heels for you, I don’t think you have to worry.” (Y/n) told him, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye for now, but not bye forever.”

Bucky was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it. “I like the sound of that. I still just can’t believe I found you after all these years.”

“You better believe it, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

MASTERLIST

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

if this was a dream pt. 3

i want to apologize in advance because this is literally like 4 chapters in a trench coat... i'm serious chapter 1 was just over 1000 words and this is over 4000, I have no idea what happened. the reason I didn't break it up is because it is very alastair-centric. I promise next chapter we will get back to thomas and see how he's doing with the actual amnesia part of it all.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

Alastair pulled his coat tightly around himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. The walk from the Institute to Cornwall Gardens was long, but it would give him far more time to clear his head than borrowing a carriage or hailing a hansom cab. He fell into the rhythm of his footsteps; this was familiar to him. He had spent more hours than he could count just walking and walking, trying to run from this life the universe had given him. 

Now, though, even his walking was infected by Thomas. 

Sometimes, I simply needed to get away from all of the hovering. There was this bit of forest near our house in Idris… it was nice, peaceful. The perfect escape, somewhere to wander until I was too spent to continue. Drove my parents a bit mad, but it was what I needed. 

Alastair told him about the woods around Cirenworth, how it was his escape, too. He’d memorized nearly every corner of that forest over the years. It was somewhere where he could pretend to be someone, anyone else. He could be no one, even. He’d left most of the details out, as he often did when discussing his childhood. He trusted Thomas completely, but there were some things he preferred to leave in the past. 

Now, his sleepless body ached against the increasing pace of his footsteps, pushing forward as if moving quickly enough could outrun the tears burning behind his eyes. He did not know if he could do this again. If Thomas never regained his memories, could Alastair convince him to forgive him again? Their original circumstances were quite peculiar. Could Alastair survive trying to gain his forgiveness again? 

He’d do anything for Thomas, he knew. He loved him, even if he’d never said it out loud. And as he said it now, even in the safety of his own mind, it felt far different than it ever did with Charles on the receiving end. With Charles, love felt strangling. It was shackles to his ankles and wrists, tying him to his misery. Looking back, it was not love at all. With Thomas, he felt free. Thomas made the impossible feel possible. 

It isn’t possible. It won’t ever be.

He heard his own words repeated back to him. He knew where this was headed from the start. This is how it all works out for Alastair Carstairs. He knew this time would be no different, even if he hoped it would. 

He loathed this feeling inside of him. He’d been doing well. He’d been happy. Now all he could think of were his own self-doubts, his own self-hatred, his age-old desire to run away to the farthest stretches of the Earth in the middle of the night, never to return. 

A better partner, a better person would not be so consumed in these thoughts as he was. A better partner would not be the recipient of such hatred from the man he loved at all, memories or not. A better partner would know what to do, how to ease the pain and anxiety that flooded Thomas’ eyes rather than exacerbate them. He was not better, however. He could never be what Thomas deserved. He knew it from the start, but it felt different, being thrown in his face now. 

Perhaps it would be better this way, he thought, for it to end like this. It was going to end eventually, as all things do. Perhaps this way would hurt Thomas less, even if Alastair would always wonder what could have happened if he’d tried a little harder, if he’d been a little less horrible, if he’d been a little bit stronger, a bit braver.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Thomas merely needed time. He’d just woken up from his injury, six months displaced, no less. He was grieving his sister again, even more than before. Alastair wanted to ease Thomas’ pain, but he could not, and thus, Thomas needed time and space and he would give it to him. 

Before he realized it, he had returned to his home. He could not remember most of the walk, his feet guiding him through the city he now knew a bit too well as his mind wandered to a place he couldn’t quite reach with his consciousness. 

He slowly unlocked the door and sighed as he hung his coat. Cordelia started quickly down the stairs but froze as her expression fell when she saw the look on his face. 

Realizing what she must be thinking, Alastair quickly shook his head. “He’s alright. He woke up. He simply… appears to be missing about the past six months of memory.” 

Cordelia frowned, her face softening as she continued down the stairs and embraced her brother. “Oh, dâdash. Are you alright?” 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Thomas is alive and awake. He just hates me.” 

She sighed. “He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he ever truly did.” 

He shook his head. “He thinks he does. Or he wants to. What’s it matter?” 

“Take a seat, dâdash. We just made tea, I’ll bring some out.” Before he could protest, she left for the kitchen. 

He settled into one of the armchairs. When Cordelia returned, she took the one beside his and began to pour tea for each of them. “You two will work your way through this, you know. Whatever happens.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? I don’t think I’ve ever met two people better matched. It’s as if you share the same soul or something.” 

He gritted his teeth. “Most would say we’re opposites.” 

“You act like opposites. Believe it or not, though, behaving grumpy or cheerful are not personality traits. In all the ways that matter, you’re two halves of one whole. It makes me utterly green with envy sometimes, seeing the two of you together, the way that you understand each other so completely. 

“I love James, of course, with my whole being. But if I’m being honest, for a long time I thought that the reason I liked him was because he reminded me of Father, all introverted and bookish and such. Now, I’m merely trying to decipher what was real and what was not, what parts of me are genuine and which ones are simply who I thought I needed to be to please him. James, too, is finding himself again after all that happened with Grace. Sometimes, it feels as though we’re two clueless children stumbling around with no sense of self, for some reason placed in this big house with adult responsibilities. It’s an utter mess sometimes, though every moment is worth it. 

“Yet you… somehow, despite everything, despite all of the odds stacked against you, despite so much pain and fear, you found yourself and your soulmate all in one person. It’s what you deserve, dâdash, what you both deserve. You will find a way.” 

He did not quite believe her, but he would not argue. 

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked, cocking her head. 

He nodded and then paused for a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll explain this to Mâmân.” Despite all the trouble it’s caused, she still did not know the truth about his time in school. 

“I could, if you’d like?” Cordelia offered. 

He sighed. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to keep the entire matter out of his own hands. He shook his head. “It’s time I did, I think.” 

She gave him a bit of a frown but nodded. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m tired of lying. I spent enough time keeping secrets when Father was alive.” He stood from the chair. 

“I’m here if you need me.” 

He started up the staircase, mustering up a more positive expression as to not worry his mother too much before he could get the words out. He found her in her bedroom, resting in an armchair a few feet away from Rostam’s bassinet. He approached his baby brother first, giving him a small smile though he was fast asleep. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he was certain Rostam was bigger than he’d been just a few days ago. 

“He just fell asleep,” his mother said softly. He turned to her. Her eyes looked tired, though no more tired than they had a few days earlier, and certainly no more tired than his own. “Come, azizam, what are you doing home? Did something happen?”

Alastair shook his head. “Thomas is awake; he’s alright.” 

“Why aren’t you with him?” she asked after a small stretch of silence. 

“He… He has amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything past last summer. It’s best if I keep my distance for a bit.” 

His mother gave him a small smile. “It’ll be okay, Alastair joon. He’ll understand given a bit of time.” 

Alastair didn’t look at her. “Maybe. I don’t know. He… he’s quite angry with me. The original circumstances under which he forgave me were fairly bizarre to begin with.” 

“Forgive you for what, dear? What could possibly be so terrible that he would not forgive you?” 

He sighed. He knew he could not avoid this conversation any longer. “I… It was something that happened at school.” He paused for a moment. “I know you think that I got on well with everyone at the Academy, but… That isn’t the truth. When I first arrived, all of the other boys could tell that I was an easy target. I was smaller than them, and… there were rumors. After a while, I just couldn’t bear it any longer. I… I was always quite good with words, as you know. I learned that using them to cut down others would get me a good laugh, and as long as the other boys were laughing they weren’t…” He trailed off. How was he meant to tell his mother this? “It took the attention off of me.” 

“By the time James and Thomas and their friends arrived the next year, I was so angry, at everyone and everything… I was so jealous of them. They had…” Picture perfect families, he wanted to say, though he could not. “They had these perfect lives, or at least they appeared that way to me. They never had to worry about attracting the wrong attention on the street or being humiliated because their families couldn’t afford to hire private tutors. They never had to worry about anything but growing up.” 

“Alastair…” his mother started. “I know we never discussed things of this nature. It’s alright that you were angry. They benefited from society in ways that rejected you merely by circumstances of birth. But that wasn’t their fault.” 

“I know. I know that now, now that I’m older. I know that my anger was misplaced. But when I was in school, society was too big. I only saw what was in front of me. I thought that if I must be cruel to someone, it should be to them. I said terrible, dreadful things about them and their families, things that should never be repeated. They did nothing to deserve the way I treated them. Thomas was kind to me, one of the only people who was ever kind to me in my two years there, and yet I still slandered his family. Last summer, he learned of the things I had said when he was not listening. That is what he remembers now.” 

There was a long stretch of silence. Alastair would not look his mother in the eyes. “I always knew that you had a hard time at school, Alastair,” she said finally. “Your lies were never too convincing. I could see how you’d changed. I… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” 

He knew it, too. He knew how his parents had spoken about him in those years, lamenting about what a miserable and difficult teenager he’d grown into when he and his sister were not in the room. He also knew how his father only ever seemed to care about Alastair’s destructive behavior when his mother began to pester him about his drinking. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“The world was cruel to you, and I could not protect you from it, but I should have tried. You were a child, my child, I am your mother, and I was meant to protect you, but I did not. Not just from the world, but from… your father, I know. Be kind to yourself, azizam. Regardless of what cruel things you did while trying to balance the weight of the world on small shoulders, it seems to me that those you hurt have forgiven you. You simply have not forgiven yourself.” 

“Perhaps they shouldn’t have. Perhaps I never deserved their forgiveness in the first place.” 

Sona sighed. “Forgiveness is not deserved, Alastair. We forgive for our own wellbeing, so that we can let go and move on. If you will not fight for Thomas on your own behalf, fight on his. He deserves to forgive you, to heal from these wounds of the past. He deserves to be loved by you.” 

Alastair didn’t respond. 

“It pains me to see you like this. You deserve to forgive, too. You deserve to forgive yourself and all who have caused you pain. You deserve to be free of it. As long as you keep such a tight grip on it all, you will only continue to destroy yourself, and as long as you continue to destroy yourself, you will hurt those who love you as well. Please-” she cut herself off, her voice breaking. Her voice trembled as she began again, and he realized for a striking moment that he had never seen her this vulnerable before. He’d witnessed her pain after Elias’ death, and he’d caught glimpses of her sorrow before it, but she’d always kept her truest self tightly locked. “Please, my love, promise me that you’ll try. You can start with me.” 

He looked up at her abruptly, startled. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could find the words, she’d stood and crossed the few feet between them. 

She took his hands in hers. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he wanted desperately to look away but he could not. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me for all of the ways that I’ve failed you. You were too young for the burdens I placed upon you. I never should have allowed you to take on that responsibility. Please, forgive me for all of the times I overlooked your pain because I was distracted by my own. I am so sorry, Alastair, for each and every time I hurt you and dismissed you. I did the best with what I had, but if I could go back in time and teach myself to be a little stronger, a little braver, to be a better mother than I was, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t. All I can do is promise to try to be a better mother, not just to your brother, but to you as well. If it’s not too late.” Careful tears streamed down her cheeks, rare as they were. 

He shook his head, feeling his own tears spill. He fell into her embrace, holding her tightly, as he had not done since he was a small child. “I forgive you,” he said softly, and he meant it. 

They stood for a long while, holding each other, taking comfort in each other and the silence. Until Rostam began to cry. They pulled away from each other awkwardly. 

“I should… get some rest,” Alastair said, trying to pull himself together. He realized suddenly that he had no idea what time it was or when he’d last slept or eaten. 

Sona nodded. “Of course. I love you, Alastair. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. I’m sorry that you and Thomas are struggling right now, but I know that you two are strong and resilient. With a bit of time and healing, this will pass.” 

He nodded, unable to respond without breaking down again. 

He returned to his bedroom to the sound of his mother soothing his newborn brother. Shutting his door behind him, he felt the exhaustion of the past several days settled deep into his bones. With heavy movements, he changed into clean clothes, leaving the old ones in a heap on the floor. Typically, he would be horrified at the thought of anything in his room so out of place, but he could not find the energy within himself to care.

He collapsed into his bed, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, repeating his mothers words back to himself in his mind. If only forgiving himself would come as easily as forgiving her. 

* * *

The next two days passed as a blur. He’d slept heavily the first night. Cordelia had reportedly attempted to wake him for dinner, but settled on bringing a bit of food to his bedroom instead. 

The next day passed a bit more normally, though Alastair still felt quite scattered. He’d appeared well-enough put together, however, for Cordelia to feel comfortable going home, so he supposed that was a good sign. Kamala had come for a visit, too, though he wasn’t much in the mood for talking, and they wound up just giving Rostam a bath and discussing Kamala’s latest read. 

The day after that had slowly begun to feel more normal, more balanced. Until Gideon Lightwood arrived at his door. 

Alastair stared at him for a moment before regaining his composure. He began to call him Mr. Lightwood before stopping himself. It still felt a bit odd to call him by his given name. “Gideon, hello. What are you doing here? Did something happen?” 

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Everything’s fine. Thomas is doing well; he’s feeling much better, though no significant improvements to his memory.” 

Alastair nodded. “That’s good. That he’s feeling better, I mean.” 

“I came here to check on you, actually.” 

“Oh.” He paused. “You didn’t need to do that.” 

“I wanted to. Well, we all did, Sophie, Eugenia, and I, but I was the most persuasive.” He smiled as he spoke, as if smug at the accomplishment of being delegated the one to come visit him. 

“Right, er, come in,” he gestured for Gideon to enter and take a seat in the sitting room. “You’re in luck; my mother just made tea if you’d like some.” 

He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.” 

Alastair returned a few moments later and began pouring tea. “It was very kind of you to come, but I’m truly alright. Just worried about Thomas is all.” 

Gideon nodded. “Of course. As I said, he’s doing well, or as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I know it is difficult for him, feeling so disconnected. Regardless of the brave face he puts on. It’s frustrating for him, as if we’ve all got some sort of inside joke that he isn’t in on.” 

He could imagine it: the quick glances, the brief answers to Thomas’ many questions. He was certain it was driving him mad. “I wish there was something I could do to help.” 

Gideon gave him a small smile. “Because he’s feeling better, his friends are coming by today to attempt to fill him in on the time that he’s missing. I’m certain there will be gaps, though. Perhaps afterwards he will be more open to speaking with you.” 

Alastair didn’t know how to tell him that he wasn’t so sure Thomas’ friends would be singing his praises. 

“You should stop by the Institute tomorrow if you’re free,” Gideon offered. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“It’s up to Thomas, of course, if he would like to see you, but if nothing else I know that Sophie and Eugenia would love for you to come by.” 

Alastair didn’t respond for a long moment. He’d spent these past couple of days mainly sleeping and caring for his brother, but also ruminating over his conversation with his mother. He began to make a mental list, both of the things he felt he had not forgiven himself for and the things he had not forgiven others for. Before he knew it, the list was distressingly lengthy. He had no idea where to even begin. Perhaps if he could put this one mistake behind him, whatever that meant, the rest would seem less overwhelming. 

He knew that he would never forgive himself for how he hurt Thomas’ family as long as the terrible things he’d done went unspoken. Perhaps that was why he never brought it up. “Did Thomas ever tell you why he was angry with me?” 

Gideon narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Something that happened back at school, wasn’t it?” 

Alastair nodded. He memorized the way Gideon looked at him now, prepared to only be looked upon with hatred in a few moments. He exhaled and looked down, too cowardly to watch the expression change. “I said things… horrible things about your family. About your wife and about Thomas and about Henry Fairchild, but mainly about you, the Consul, and Matthew. There were rumours going around that he was your child, and I repeated them to him. I repeated them after, too. I have reasons for the way I behaved at school, but I have no reasons for that. I was simply angry. Matthew and I were both terrible to each other, and I was so angry for so many reasons. I did not think of the consequences of my words. I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry for the role I played in causing your family such pain.” 

“It’s okay,” Gideon replied gently. Alastair looked up in surprise to see not a hint of the hatred he was expecting. Seeing the confused look on his face, he continued. “Obviously, I’m not happy that you said cruel things about my loved ones, but it was a long time ago, and I would be a hypocrite to not recognize a man who regrets his mistakes and has learned from them. You make my son happy, Alastair. That more than makes up for anything you might’ve said when you were younger, in my eyes.” He flashed him a smile and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Here I was, worried that you’d killed someone or something.” 

“Well, I’ve also done that, but it’s not what Thomas is angry about.” 

Gideon stared at him, clearly unsure over whether or not he was serious. 

“Joking,” he said quickly. “...kind of.” 

He looked back at him hesitantly. “Do you… want to talk about it?” 

“Ha, no. Not today.” His guilt surrounding the deaths of Clive Cartwright and his father would need to be addressed another time. 

“Right,” Gideon responded. “Thank you for telling me this, Alastair. I appreciate your honesty. I only have one question, why did you not say anything about this before? It was clearly bothering you. Did you fear we would reject you?” 

“I…” That seemed like the logical answer, wasn’t it? Yet he knew it was not the correct one. “I think that perhaps it was the opposite. I was just so ashamed… and I knew that as long as I held on to that, I would never allow myself to truly get too close. I know how horrible that sounds, and I know it hurt Thomas, too, but for some reason that,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “was scarier than anything else. I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t make sense-” 

“It does. I understand, Alastair, even if I don’t like that you felt you had to do that. I know the past couple of months have been complicated for you, though in many ways less complicated than the years before. It will always be your choice, but know that there will always be a place for you in my life, whether you and Thomas are together or not. But I will not ever blame you for anything you feel you are not able to do.”

Alastair nodded, feeling a soreness at the back of this throat that indicated impending tears. 

“You should stop by tomorrow and visit us. It’s up to you, but I think that it would be helpful for you to speak with Sophie, too. I will not repeat anything to her, lest you decide not to. I do think it would be somewhat of a relief, though. We thought that the reason you were so distant was because you disliked us.” 

“What?” He silently cursed the pain in his voice. 

“Joking,” Gideon teased with a chuckle. “Kind of.” 

Alastair exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release, and gave him half of an eye roll. 

“Please, tell me honestly, Alastair, are you doing alright?” 

He nodded in response, finally feeling it to be true. 

“I shall take my leave then. The tea was truly lovely, by the way. You must pass my thanks unto your mother.” 

“I will.” 

“See you tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow,” Alastair responded before he could stop himself. He stood to see him out, but was surprised when Gideon met him with a hug goodbye. 

“Thank you for chatting with me.” 

“Thank you for… checking in.” 

Gideon smiled at him and donned his coat and hat. Alastair watched him as he departed, feeling more at peace now than he had in quite a while.

thanks so much for reading! taglist (reply, ask, or message to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @kamalajcshi @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid

[ixalit]

can i assume that you like htp? if so, are there any favorite htp fics you can rec? 👀 my favorite one is dragging you down, demon bucky series and i love it tbh

I do!

Here are my favorites, some very popular, and others that are lesser known. As always, heed the tags and only read what you’re comfortable with!

(Here’s part 2)

Lamb and Martyr by @dsudis

40k, 5 chapters, complete

Steve/Bucky

graphic depictions of violence, rape recovery, rape roleplay, kink negotiation, under-negotiated kink, unsafe kink, subdrop, topdrop, complicated consent

Summary: "You could, though," Steve said. "If you were willing to hurt me."

Motions series by Nonymos

Steve/Bucky, Pierce/Bucky

Story 1: Training Motions

19k, 4 chapters, complete

alternate universe - modern, no powers, spies and secret agents; secret agent steve; torture; sex slavery; humiliation; object insertion; non-consensual body modification; forced feminization; dead dove: do not eat

Summary:

If Alexander Pierce, notorious weapons dealer, can be tricked into selling to SHIELD, his entire business will be exposed and the planet will be just a little safer. Steve's not the best at undercover work, but there was nobody else for the job and he would do anything to close the deal.

Of course, things get complicated when the deal turns into a competition. Things get more complicated when the competition starts hinging on who can hurt Pierce's submissive the most. Steve's not certain James is here on his own free will, and Steve's not certain he can compromise his morals, even to save millions of lives.

Story 2: Motion Training

78k, 31 chapters, complete

past rape/non-con, rape recovery, rape aftermath, consent issues, post hydra trash party, mutual pining, flashbacks, discussions of suicide

Summary:

After three years of slavery, Bucky's suddenly free again. He's not sure how to come back from that. Doing everything right just feels like going through the motions, but he has to keep going anyway - because there are some very wrong things he cannot afford to want.

Humans as Gods by Hyperthetical

5k, shrinkyclinks

rape/non-con, hurt/comfort, size kink, minor character death, dubious consent, hydra made them do it, happy ending, cuddling & snuggling

Summary:

HYDRA scientists successfully de-serum Captain America, only to discover that they are utterly unprepared for Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier follows his instructions to the letter. This works out just great.

So Familiar A Gleam by Lauralot

10k, stucky

nightmares, victim blaming, self-hatred, self-harm, drug use/abuse, overdosing, hallucinations, mental instability, past sexual abuse, past rape/non-con, electrocution, psychological horror, emotional/psychological abuse

Summary: Steve is always honest when Bucky’s sleeping.

Hallowed Ground by @shinelikethunder

12k, stucky, steve/hydra agents, bucky/hydra agents

rape aftermath, church sex, past torture, past rape/non-con, virginity, comfort sex, no healing cock, misappropriated religious imagery, hurt/comfort, sloppy seconds

Summary:

Bucky thinks about cleaning guns, or doing field maintenance on his arm, and tries to pretend he's repairing something delicate as he traces the lines of violence carved into Steve's flesh.

It'd be nice to believe that's what he's doing.

Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me by Chianine

4k, stucky

humiliation, self-hatred, physical abuse, rape/non-con

Summary:

When he's not being raped, beaten, or forced to commit murder, the Winter Soldier has a lot of time alone to dream and wonder what it would be like to not be treated like a piece of trash. He makes up a fantasy friend who would be big and strong and come and rescue him from HYDRA and all the people who hurt him. Then he would take the Soldier home and give him good food and wash him and touch him softly and take him to his nice warm bed and kiss him and hold him close and keep him safe.

Of course when he imagines this friend it's always a blonde blue-eyed handsome man. The Soldier decides to give this imaginary friend a name and the only one that comes to mind is Steve...

He doesn't realize that this person isn't made up - he is a memory.

There Is No Shortage of Blood by @dsudis, @artgroves

246k, 57 chapters, complete

Steve/Bucky

rape recovery, rape aftermath, rape fantasy, flashbacks, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, unsafe bdsm practices, bucky’s broken dick, sexual dysfunction, winter soldier trial, canon divergence, autoerotic asphyxiation, knifeplay, no safeword (just this once), risk aware consensual kink

Summary:

The long slow recovery of Bucky Barnes after his escape from HYDRA.

(And the longer, slower recovery of his sex life.)

to burn your kingdom down by glorious_spoon

12k, 5 chapters, complete

Steve/Hydra agents

graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, whump, past rape/non-con, hurt/comfort, rescue, hurt steve, steve/stoicism

Summary:

The Avengers go after a Hydra splinter cell with a nasty habit of brutalizing their prisoners. Steve has some ugly history with them, and when a rescue mission gone wrong leaves him and Sam in enemy hands, the situation gets uglier still.

No Broken Bones, No Permanent Damage by ponderosa121

1k, bucky/pierce, bucky/hydra agents

gang rape, knives

Summary: Something stirs in the dark places beneath his ribs. What does he want?

A Simple Excuse for a Complex Crime by @shinelikethunder

6.5k, stucky

graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, torture, interrogation, knifeplay, blood, electrocution, object insertion, bucky barnes’s metal arm, identity porn, memory recovery, the author regrets everything

Summary:

Pierce's motives for bringing the Winter Soldier in to interrogate Captain Rogers are more than a little bit suspect.

Follows directly on Elevator, Take 2, but literally the only thing you need to know about that one is "the one where the elevator beatdown ends in a gangbang instead." Just like the only thing you need to know about this one is "all the filthy trash Cap/Winter Soldier noncon you didn't know you wanted."

The Soldier or the Tiger by Anonymous

2.5k, bucky/rumlow, bucky/hydra agents

rape/non-con, attempted rape/non-con, non-consensual drug use, anal sex, anal fingering, sloppy seconds, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

Summary:

Prompt: I've read a fair share of pretty hot hydra operatives/WS fics. On one hand I like them a lot, but most of the time i have to ask myself, is it really SAFE? The WS is programmed for violence, I can't buy that he ALWAYS submits without any thought.

So I kind of want Rumlow/WS and other operatives/WS (but this is optional, I mostly want Rumlow) non-con sex, but where the risk of getting their heads taken off is very much present. Still, it's like trying to pet a beautiful tiger knowing it can rip off your jugular if you do it wrong... it's addicting.

[thessaliah]

Integra(Hellsing)

First impression: "Badass girlcrush acquired" with "sexiest voice ever" (Yoshiko Sakakibara) when I watched the original Gonzo show, but I was familiar with scans floating of the manga too.

Impression now: Hellsing isn't the deepest show, it's all flash over substance, but I recognized Hirano's Dracula franchise tributes (originally written for the anniversary of the novel in the 90s) and I became utterly smitten with Integra and Hellsing in general, in particular the manga. I roleplayed Hellsing characters for years (with a big cast of friends), wrote over one hundred fanfiction (most AU'ed by now), ran communities and moderate forums, joined the translation projects, etc. Hellsing was a passion and Integra was my favorite character and muse. She was the girlboss before this became kind of a meme. I've always appreciated how shoujo-esque her background is within a seinen. Wealthy orphan noble daughter with a vampire pet who served her since she was a teenager. Integra and Alucard are kind of responsible for my Master/Servant fetish in pairings and relationships, in a way. There are many girlbosses now, but Integra is eternal. I appreciate how Hirano didn't ever try to humiliate her for being the one in control (this sadly doesn't happen in the Gonzo TV show, where they had two close calls sexual assault on her, and stripped her out of power). Hirano managed to make her show her vulnerable side, making her grow in her position of leader (in the manga only) from inexperienced beginnings during the crisis to more in control without punishing her for being the dominant party, he rewarded her. She ends up in her rebuilt mansion, with her loved ones, instead of betrayed and handcuffed in jail (Gonzo).

Favorite moment: Alucard (with his appearance when he was Vlad III) kneeling to Integra surrounded by a forest of impaled foes in the background, volume 8, while they greet each other fondly in the middle of a wrecked London. This is peak courtly love:

Idea for a story: I wrote like 100 Hellsing fics. I've exhausted my ideas of a story already. Besides the manga ended on such a perfect note, I didn't need to add more. It was one of those "When all is said and done" moments.

Unpopular opinion: Back when Hellsing was ongoing, my "unpopular opinion" was that Integra would never marry to "continue the family line" because she doesn't care about that. It's not her "duty as a Hellsing" (gross). She doesn't trust easily to open up to a stranger. Guess who was right and understood her character? Oh, I also think she's more "traditionally feminine" than Seras Victoria in the manga.

Favorite relationship: with Alucard. I've been a big Dracula fan across media: Universal movies, comics, Hammer horror, all types of spinoffs, musicals, etc. There's no other character I've actively shipped with any version of the Count than Integra. They are perfect together. I don't mind when he has a love interest, but that doesn't mean I care about that romantic angle or the relationship until Alucard and Integra came. They have such a complex, appealing, sexy connection. It's not the typical "light in the darkness" where only he's affected, but a clash where both changed by their relationship. Before Hellsing, "Dracula's potential human love interest" fell into these two types of relationships. The first was the Good and Wise woman who can change his ways or tame them (think Lisa of Castlevania, as one of the best examples) or the target he'll seduce/fail to seduce (usually Mina/Lucy in the movies or their clones). Integra is none of this. That's why their ambiguous relationship was so appealing (it doesn't mean I didn't like the others, just that I wasn't that much of a shipper). She has his leash, and he loves it. He kills, and she orders it. That's why it worked for me in a way no other clicked before. Because she likes him who kills and impales people for her, she's not enamored with this potential "good man" he could be or a lie he represented himself to trick her. She likes, understands, and accepts him, and he commits his Dracula-ish actions but as a "noble demon" warlord to his lady. He kills as brutally he did, but to protect his land as he used to do as a mortal man. Integra combines what Alucard lost in the past: a divine master he devoted to serving (Vlad-God), and the woman he failed to get (Dracula-Mina). When they reunited, he finally can be at peace because she, unlike them, never abandoned him. Plus their UST is sexy as hell.

Favorite headcanon: Her mother belonged to a royal family from India.

[plainlo-inthemorning]

A Loki TVA / Lokane fic that snatched a tempad. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 4

This time around, he feels but the faintest glimmer of surprise as he steps out of the doorway and onto a busy sidewalk in Midtown Manhattan.

A few people stop dead in their tracks when the door materializes out of thin air, but the throng of commuters headed to and from Central Station is so dense, Loki’s appearance goes mainly unnoticed.

Dull resignation washes over him.

The tempad is officially broken. Its coordinates locked onto this little planet where, in his own timeline, he has known nothing but defeat.

Without bothering to look for a newsstand, he reasons there’s a strong probability it’s the year 2014. It would seem the damn gadget is slowly counting backwards, while refusing to take him anywhere else in the universe.

Above his head, a billboard flashing on the side of a high-rise building confirms his suspicions.

Incredibly though, the tempad still not out of “juice”. The battery life seems to be making a mockery of his failed attempts to direct the itinerary.

Taking a step out of the moving sea of people, Loki sees little in way of construction sites along the street.

On his timeline, this would have been two years after his attack on the city with Thanos’ army, but if that ‘highlight’ of Loki’s less than acclaimed villainous career took place in this reality as well, the mortals have effectively tidied up after him.

He tries not think of the countless faces frozen in terror that had looked up at him.

Of the lives lost because of his crazed ambition to prove himself - and to destroy something of Thor’s.

Almost if Loki had been transformed back into the chronically jealous five-year-old child who once stole his golden, annoyingly joyful, perfect brother’s favorite model toy - a grey wolf made of clay - and deliberately let it roll down the steps of the throne when their father (his NON-father) had been away.

The toy had broken into pieces and Thor had been inconsolable. Gripped by immediate remorse despite his initial intent, Loki had tried to fix it with his budging magic powers. Only for the wolf to melt to a sticky puddle on the stone floor.

Thor had wailed so loudly, a passing servant had thought him seriously injured and called for their mother, and Loki had been made to apologize, his usually pale cheeks burning scarlet. Then he had been grounded for the remains of the day.

The humiliation had stung, and so had the regret that his magic had failed him.

Not for the first time, the anger had turned, unwarranted (Loki knew then too), towards his brother.

From then on, it had just gotten slowly worse and worse and more malicious right up until that horrible moment of rage no more than a few days ago (a week?), when Loki had driven one of his daggers into Thor’s side on top of the Stark tower.

And twisted it.

The mix of bottomless sadness and shock in his brother’s blue eyes had cut through Loki’s heart with such force he might as well have sunk the blade of his other weapon into his own chest.

But instead of abandoning his pathetic scramble for power and hold Thor, instead of attempting to heal the wound with his magic that has become so formidable in adulthood, Loki had let the poison drown the remains of his sanity.

Of course, shortly afterward, the green monstrosity had effortlessly and repeatedly smashed him into the concrete floor of Stark’s living-quarters until Loki had thought he heard every bone in his supposedly immortal (right!) body break and his skull crack open.

To the outside, it had surely been a suitably entertaining show of retribution, but as he had lain there in the crater of rubble, unable to utter a moan, it was as if all the anger had been knocked out of him.

The link to Thanos’ ungodly servant had been severed and Loki had felt more like himself than he had in a long, long time.

When Thor, looking grimmer than ever, had dragged him to his feet in front of the ragtag band of ‘heroes’ and cuffed him, Loki had found himself strangely elated, on the verge of giddy.

His legs had been so shaky from the beating that Thor had had to hold him by the arm so he wouldn’t fall, and Loki had felt the heat of his brother’s huge hand penetrate the many layers of his own armour.

For a few delirious seconds, Loki had wanted nothing more than to lean against his brother’s strong frame and just close his eyes.

Instead, he had started cracking jokes until Thor had slapped the muzzle on him, as if he were some dog (that gesture had embarrassed him more than anything that had gone before). Unable to keep up his sarcastic commentary as they rode the elevator down, Loki had fleetingly wondered if he was suffering from a psychosis or actual brain damage.

Now, standing on the street so close to where it happened, the memory oozes fresh guilt.

But he redeemed himself.

In his mind, Loki goes through the TVA reel once more to remind himself of the images of his brother later in life, smiling at him.

Right before the end came.

If he is to spend the rest of eternity on Midgard - or at least until the multiverse crumbles - he will try to find solace in the good his future self managed to accomplish.

For Thor and, in another, brighter reality, for her.

The riddle of her part in his life now remains unsolved, but as hard as Loki tries to release the ghost wrapped in his arms, it merely squeezes itself closer to his chest.

He could try to find her here, on this timeline.

She will be with Thor, that much is certain, but since the reel of Loki’s fate had shown him only his own path, he knows not whether Thor and Jane shared a life on Midgard, or somewhere else, up until the brothers reunited (for lack of a better word) on Asgard.

What would Loki even say to her?

That, while at the bureau that controls all space and time, he saw her face on a roll of film of his supposed life, and now he aches for her more than anything? That on an alternate timeline a few hours ago, she kissed him?

Thor would not approve of that exchange.

Also, with Loki’s luck, Thor might be a frog in this reality.

He could still try to use the tempad to transport him to Svartalfheim and his own life’s story, seeing as he is now only year from where he feels so strongly he must go.

But finding the proper timeline is like shooting an arrow into the endless vastness of space and hoping it’ll hit the right comet.

He realizes that now.

An arrow.

Somehow, somewhere, on two timelines no less, variants of him had …

Loki’s head jerks up.

The tower.

It’s a desperate idea at best, but from the (very) little Loki knows of his character, Stark’s superior technical skills go hand in hand with an endlessly hungry, inquisitive mind. And pride.

Much like Loki, Stark is a man who needs to be the smartest man in the room. And like Loki, he probably is, most of time (in fact… no. Don’t go there).

Maybe Stark will listen.

Perhaps he can even help make sense of the tempad if Loki can somehow win his trust and appeal to his curiosity and (he winces a little) heroism.

Was it not Loki’s actions who had helped Stark “realize his best potential”, as his TVA file put it?

He spots the imposing structure further up the street, noticing the huge “A” at the top (is that new?), and sets off towards it at a brisk pace, darting in and out of the crowds on the packed sidewalk.

Here goes nothing.

As he reaches the large glass doors he briefly experiences a dizzying deja-vu, when suddenly a man’s voice calls out to him.

A frighteningly familiar, agitated voice.

… With a particular brand of anger bubbling underneath, that Loki had hoped he’d never have to witness up close ever again.

//

“What the hell are you doing here??”

His dark, curly hair has a few more streaks of silver. The checkered shirt is slightly crumbled, the glasses a bit askew. He clutches an armful of papers to his chest.

And he’s wearing a furious expression although, thank the Norns, a mortal complexion.

For now.

“Didn’t Tony explicitly tell you not to come here?! Are you that intent on causing everyone to lose their shit again?!”

Worry is all over Doctor Banner’s screwed up face.

“Seriously, Loki, is this funny to you? Clint is actually in the building right now and, in case Tony didn’t already inform you, he’s made it very clear that he’s quitting the team if you were to stroll through the front door!”

The Avenger has started shaking, his eyes wild (too wild).

This is heading in the wrong direction fast.

Mustering all the calm in the world despite his racing pulse and the nauseating sounds of bones breaking echoing in his head, Loki puts on his most courteous and, he dearly hopes, un-cocky charming smile.

“Bruce, please relax. I assure you, I’m not here to cause trouble. Not for you or anyone else.”

“Right, you just happened to be in town and wanted to stop by for coffee? Loki, this …”

Loki gently interrupts him.

“I merely came here to have a conversation with S- … Tony. Perhaps you could let him know I’m here? I promise you, I will not set foot inside. In fact - “

Loki adopts the form of one of the security guards he can see pacing inside the foyer.

“… I’m not even here.”

Bruce jumps a little and clutches his papers even tighter.

“Oh god, I hate when you do that, man. If you think showing off that trick makes anyone any less nervous around you…”

“Doctor Banner - Bruce. I have something …”

Loki searches for the words, quickly trying to decide on how much to reveal to the man-beast who’s now looking at him with urgent expectancy.

He sighs and bets it all.

“Okay. Bruce, what I’m going to say will sound mad.”

The man scoffs.

“Coming from you, I’d expect nothing less.”

Bruce shakes his head and looks to the sky in exasperation.

“Please - please - don’t tell me you’ve gone and changed your mind about the whole not conquering Earth business. Really, Loki, none of us understand how transforming you into ‘an asset’ became Tony’s pet project over this past year, or why Fury went along with it. But I’m sure both are going to be pretty damn disappointed if their new alien BFF decides to embrace his inner psycho again.”

Loki almost chuckles. It’s all too ridiculous.

“I won’t … embrace my inner ‘psycho’, I swear.”

“Then what?”

The God of Mischief draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Or rather, the security guard’s nose.

Then he surrenders to the absurdity of the situation.

“Bruce, I kindly beg of you, is Tony here? Or … (is there hope?) Thor?”

Bruce still looks at him with deep disdain, but his immediate anger seems to have subsided.

“No, Tony’s out of town. Took Pepper somewhere on holiday. They’re not to be disturbed for at least a week. Her words. And Thor … I should think you of all people know perfectly well why he’s not likely to hang around at the time being. Jeez, you guys and your endless family soap opera … I can’t even.”

Naturally, the universe again blankly refuses to extend any hands to Loki and his doomed quest. Sadly, once again, he is not surprised.

Wait - what?

“What do you mean, ‘soap opera’?”

Bruce looks like he’s about to throw his hands over his head and all the papers with them.

“Oh, come on! What is this?! You want approval? Confirmation of your little victory? Doesn’t the very lovely embodiment of that currently walk around in your apartment or wherever it is you live now? Loki, I’m done here. You have to leave. Bye.”

To hell with Stark – Loki wants to grab Bruce by his shirt collar and shake the little man till he explains what in all of Yggdrasil he’s talking about.

But he cannot afford to tempt the beast. Quite literally.

“Then … can you and I go somewhere to talk? Bruce, you’re a man of science. This is science … related.”

Loki feigns a smile.

Bruce sizes him up. No doubt considering whether to let the other guy continue the conversation.

Then his shoulders drop.

“Okay. Okay. For a creepy megalomaniac, you somehow tend to end up with some very cool people defending your case. Just know that those people are absolutely the only reason, you and I are still talking. Ugh, I’m too nice … “

Bruce casts a glance over his shoulder into the foyer, appearing to consider their options, when a man exits the glass doors – and shuffles up to them.

“Bruce! How nice to see you. You look well.”

The old man (those eyes …) grins warmly and pats Bruce on the back, then looks from him to Loki and back again.

“Everything alright out here? Is there a security issue?”

Bruce composes himself and smiles back.

“Hi, Lee, good to see you too. All fine. Earl here was just updating me on, eh, the new security procedures.”

He shoots Loki a stern look.

“Ah, yes”, Loki nods seriously. “Doctor Banner had some trouble operating the intricate open and close mechanism of the doors. The elevator doors, especially.”

He can’t help himself. It’s somehow both immensely tragic and life-affirming.

“Oh?” The old man raises an eyebrow (he looks … but he’s not quite …something is off).

“Will I have to get a new security card? I rarely come in these days, but in case …”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Lee. Because, because … like you say, you’re hardly ever here, so …”

Still smiling awkwardly, Bruce waves a dismissive hand, almost dropping the stack of papers (the man’s a terrible liar, Loki thinks).

“Speaking of”, Banner continues, “you must be enjoying retirement up there, huh, Lee? Must be nice to live by the sea. Good … air quality?”

Loki sighs inwardly.

The dog sniffing at his ankles looks up at him.

He stares down at the round, fluffy thing as if seeing it for the first time.

Which he is and he isn’t.

The old man is saying something to Bruce about the countryside, when he notices the dog wagging its tail at Loki’s feet.

“Oh, he likes you. You’re lucky, he normally doesn’t care for strangers. No, you don’t, do you Fenris”, the man coos.

Under coats of thick white fur, the animal looks eagerly from owner to Loki.

“Okay, well, I’ll be off,” the old man says, finally. “Come see me sometime, Bruce. My neighbor actually just put his house on the market, in case you’re looking for a weekend retreat…”

He nods at Bruce, then at Loki who barely notices. The dog whines unhappily at being dragged away.

It’s the same timeline.

Of course, it is. The tempad has locked itself on a sequence.

But why the different locations …?

“Yes, thank you, Lee. Take care now. Earl, shall we?” Bruce signals to Loki to follow him round the side of the building.

“We can continue our discussion about the security issue in the garage”.

//

“So, let’s hear it. Tell me what you came to say, so I can tell you why it’s a catastrophically bad idea.”

Bruce sits himself across the small table from Loki and dumps the stack of papers in front of him. The top sheet is covered in coffee mug rings.

They are in an anonymous, windowless office somewhere below the vast tower parking lot and numerous in-house repair shops.

The place is a gigantic maze and Loki has just shut himself in a tiny room with the very monster that turned him into ragdoll. The deep slash on his forehead has only just healed.

He does not fear many beings in the universe, but the mild-mannered doctor’s alter ego makes the hit list with the worst of them.

Ignoring the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up (why did this seem like a good idea?), Loki drops his disguise and takes a seat on the cheap plastic chair. Not much of that flashy Stark glamour down here.

“Okay.” Loki takes out the tempad and puts it in the middle of the table.

He is not quite sure where to start, so he decides to begin with the purely technical aspect.

Bruce might appreciate being given a few ‘scientific’ details before any mentions of giant smoke monsters and alligators.

In fact, the fewer magical creatures and castles in the sky, the better.

“This is called a tempad. It’s a device that makes it possible to travel anywhere in time. You type in your destination, and a doorway opens. I did not make it myself. It was, er, given to me by a large and very powerful organization … in space.”

Bruce is leaning forward to get a better look at the tempad but makes no attempt to reach for it.

As he’s says nothing, Loki continues.

“This is where it gets, uh, weird, but try to believe me when I tell you, I’m not the Loki you know. I’m from another, similar timeline and -“

“Stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just stop, Loki.”

Bruce is leaning back on his chair again. He looks tired.

“I don’t know if you’re supremely bored of domestic bliss already, or just being your supremely annoying self, but I won’t engage. You’re not Loki but a time-traveler from space? Yeah, it’s -“

“No, Bruce, I am Loki. Trust me, I know this seems -“

“Trust? You wanna talk about trust again?” Bruce takes out his phone.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He taps a few buttons, then holds the phone to his ear.

“What are you doing?” Loki’s voice has a sharper edge to it than he intended.

The Avenger stares him down.

“Oh, I’m just calling someone. This guy I have in my contacts under God of Lies”.

Please, no …

Briefly, Loki considers whether another variant of him – the one he encountered at the house by the ocean, most likely – would actually be of more help.

Or if he, the variant, would try to kill him.

It was one thing reasoning with and trying not to get killed by Loki variants who at least understood the concept of variants, but how would he have reacted upon being confronted with a twin before the TVA?

No, not a twin … Because this variant has her.

None of the variants in the Void – the grown-up, human ones – had mentioned versions of her.

Either this variant has successfully taken out every Minute Man ever sent by the TVA to arrest him (in which case, Loki concedes, he may be the superior Loki), or this whole timeline has only just blossomed at the opening of the multiverse.

Why else would he, who apparently also gave his phone number to Bruce Banner, get to live a life so vastly different from the typical arc of a misguided Jotun prince?

Loki feels light-headed.

On one hand, he wants to know everything there is to know about his double, on the other, he fears what and who he might find.

You don’t belong here. Find your own timeline. No more Lokis.

Focus. Explain.

He raises his one hand in a placating gesture.

“Give me a little time to try and explain this, Bruce, and then, then … You can call whoever. Call everyone! But please just -“

“Oh, what do you know,” Bruce puts his phone down, “there’s no answer. What a surprise.”

He crosses his arms.

Loki inhales and tries again, speaking as evenly and as calmly as he can while his frustration mounts:

“There is no way of telling you all or any of this without it sounding utterly ludicrous, so you’ll have to hear me out. Five minutes uninterrupted from now, okay? Yes, we’re talking time travel, but compared to what’s really at stake, even time travel is a pretty basic technicality. Also, I promise you, in a few years’ time from now, the concept of time travel won’t seem all that laughable to you and Stark in particular. Provided this reality exists in a few years’ time seeing as -“

Bruce sighs dramatically.

“Yes, okay, so”, Loki continues, “Two years ago, I attacked New York, right?”

“If you’re about to roll out some outlandish excuse – another one! – I don’t care to hear it.”

The other man is narrowing his eyes as a fresh look of undistilled loathing creeps into his features.

So it did happen on this timeline as well.

“No, it’s not that. Or, I mean, let’s save that. When you captured me, in my timeline, I escaped from the lobby with the Infinity stone. I know it seems impossible from your end of events but - “

“Impossible?”

Bruce gives him a strange look Loki can’t quite interpret.

“Yes, S… Tony dropped the briefcase with the Infinity stone, and I picked it up and -“

Bruce pushes his chair back. The plastic scrapes loudly against the stone tiles of the floor.

“Loki, I can’t. I thought I had the patience to at least indulge you but turns out I don’t. I can’t tell if you’re losing your mind, but either way, you’ll have to take it – this, whatever it is – up with Tony instead when he gets back. Maybe bring that sweet lab partner of yours along if you’re going to talk time travel. With her field of expertise, I’m sure - “

“WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

Without thinking, Loki slams both his hands into the table. Papers go flying and Bruce staggers backwards.

Horror dawns as Loki realizes his error, but it’s already too late.

Bruce doubles over in spasms and a deep, much too deep, growling sound escapes his lips. He grips his head with his shaking hands as if trying to contain the explosion within, and Loki feels his own brain go numb with panic as one of those hands triples in size and a sickly green hue rapidly spreads.

There is no way out.

Bruce is blocking the door and soon his bulk will be taking up the entire room. He falls to his knees, arms thrashing wildly and his shirt ripping across his back. The table sails over Loki’s head, one of the chairs lodges itself in the soundproofed ceiling, causing the panels of fluorescent light to flicker madly.

Are there no security cameras?!

There are screams, but they no longer sound human.

Loki has nowhere to hide.

He has to gather his magic around him, but terror is completely scattering his focus, cold sweat breaking out all over his body.

It is a matter of seconds before the transformation will be complete and the monster attempts to tear him limb from limb. With no heroes to stop it.

Cold.

He has only consciously reached for it once before, but now the thought barely registers before ice rushes through him as if by instinct. Bruce is not the only one with an abomination lurking under the surface.

He doesn’t have the casket of his birth father, but he has strength.

There is no time to consider if it’s enough or nothing at all. No time for crippling self-loathing or shame.

In front of him, the Hulk lifts its crazed, bloodshot eyes to meet his.

The green creature cannot stand upright in the office, and the first fist goes through the ceiling with the force of a wrecking ball. The next lashes out at Loki, who dodges it just as his own skin turns a deep, brilliant blue.

Little black ridges and markings rise on his arms and face and though his sight doesn’t falter, he feels the instant his eyes go from green to bright red. The fabric of his clothes chafes his new skin and waves of adrenaline surge through his body. Multiple foreign senses come alive and drown his fear.

But he has not a breath to spare to get used to his true form before the Hulk shoves him against the wall so hard, the bricks shift against his side as if they were made of a child’s building blocks.

The impact makes him gasp for air, yet the pain … the pain he can manage.

He just has to last long enough get out of here. And the cold is crystalizing his focus to let the magic flow easily, powerfully through his hands.

His blue hands.

If he had used this when …

Loki pushes himself off the wall (out of it) and almost collides with the Hulk (there’s no space left to maneuver in) who, instead of smashing its way out, seems hell-bent on squashing the only living thing in its line of sight first.

Loki swiftly crouches down on one knee, puts his palms together and, faster than the blink of a brilliant crimson eye, conjures a rotating orb of ice and chaos energy that explodes in a blinding flash of white light as he hurls it square into the monster’s chest.

The Hulk falls back, breaking through the wall to the parking lot on the other side and crashing into a row of cars, while a sheath of ice spreads from its chest and up its neck. The being that is not Bruce howls and claws at its skin, but the smooth ice thickens and as it reaches the head of the beast, it slides right into its eye sockets – and momentarily blinds it.

It will probably only last seconds but it’s all Loki needs while the Hulk shakes its head furiously.

He makes to flee when he spots the tempad on the cracked floor.

He can’t leave it.

As Loki dives for the gadget, the Hulk simultaneously knocks itself in the face with both fists, splintering the ice into a rain of tiny spikes. With a roar to match the sound of a spaceship engine taking off, the creature lunges.

Loki’s fingers close around the tempad.

He feels a buzz.

The door appears in front of him.

He doesn’t stop to think before throwing himself through it.

The Hulk punches into empty air.

Part 5

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Going Solo (Part One) - Jimin x Ara

Contains: Angst. *Potential trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks*

Set a few months following their scene in ‘Private Moments’, Ara is faced with a decision which will change the course of her future. 

(Part Two will be uploaded soon, after a few fics focusing on some of the other members.)

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Content below the cut

‘Jimin,

We just spoke, and you asked if I was happy. I think I am. At least most days.’

Ara typed slowly. Her nails had just been manicured and were longer than she was used to. The sound of acrylics against the keyboard rang through the small hotel room. 

‘When I’m with you I can feel really happy. You can be so sweet and loving and I appreciate you always check up on me - to make sure I’m okay. Touring is hard. You know it better than anybody else, and you tried to prepare me for it.’

She gave a soft sigh, knowing no one else would hear. The words were spilling out of her fingers before her brain had time to catch up, though she knew based on experience she would eventually work out what she was trying to say. The room was dark and the white glow from the word document was starting to make her eyes water. The contact lenses had been in all day and were getting on her nerves. Still, she persevered. She could remove them once she had finished. 

‘I’ve been asked to renew my contract.’

She stopped typing, heart thudding, and realised she felt scared. Her hand moved automatically to her stomach and she exhaled slowly before taking a deep, drawn out breath. She had been practicing and it had gotten easier. At first she would panic, and find her chest rising and falling like crazy, on the verge of hyperventilation, but soon she learned the trick; it was her stomach which was supposed to be moving, not her chest. Her cheeks were a little warm and she knew it was shame she was feeling, not embarrassment. She hadn’t told him yet, despite having known for over a week. Tentatively, she continued, fingers picking up speed as she became used to the sensation of the new nails. 

‘You remember me telling you the first was on a trial basis, based on sales. Well - whatever target they set for us, we must have hit it. Even you have noticed the increase in publicity lately...the T.V appearances. They’ve asked me to film a reality show. I don’t know what they’re expecting.’

Her brow furrowed, wondering...

‘I guess they might have asked you too?’

The laptop stayed silent for a long time and she rested her hands against the small, cheap desk as she gazed at the screen. Her mind suddenly seemed blank and she felt stupid. She would never send the document to Jimin, just as she hadn’t sent the ones she had written before; three month’s worth of unopened, worthless ramblings saved in some obscure folder on her desktop, trapped in the harddrive somewhere between her acoustic recordings and photographs of hairstyles she had saved from Pinterest. She often wondered why she even bothered to save them. Her counsellor had told her, time and time again, that keeping a diary would be helpful. She could record her mood swings and track her periods, along with keeping count of what she ate; wholegrains made her bloated, red food colourings brought out a rash. She sometimes worried she might be lactose intolerant, though could handle it in coffee. That type of thing. She kept it up at first; bashfully bringing the sparkly diary into the small office she visited once a month and reciting what she had written to the man opposite. He would nod sympathetically as she spoke, making a comment from time to time; asking how she felt about what she had put. But the company was paying him to do this; all the girls went, and she sometimes wondered if it was the food diary he was really interested in. If her manager was keeping track, making sure she and the other members were not overdoing it on the full-fat salad dressing and milky lattes. 

The diary entries began to dwindle and, not long after her last week-long visit back to Seoul, the meaningless letters on her laptop started. They were usually addressed to Jimin, though she had written several to her father and one to her brother. She wasn’t good with words; she had been told that often enough at school when she would have to read out loud from the book of the week in Literature, or come up with an argument in Business Studies. Her mouth would stumble and she’d turn red, both ashamed and humiliated, until the teacher inevitably took pity on her and told her to sit back down. Writing in private was much easier, especially when she knew no one but her would see.

‘I don’t know how to feel.’

The cursor hovered, blinking at the end of the last line. There was a heavy knock at the door and Ara jumped, hands automatically reaching for the laptop lid, before a familiar female voice called out.

“Ara? Are you coming?”

She quickly gathered herself, clicking the save icon at the top of the screen. The company had arranged a group meal in the restaurant downstairs, though she had forgotten, her mind distracted by more pressing thoughts.

“In a minute…I just need to change my lenses.” She called back, moving her finger against the touchpad as a pop-up appeared. She selected the save button once more, mouth twisting as she read the title in the little window: ‘Untitled #12.’ She wondered if she would ever get around to renaming them properly.

***

“Your hair has so much texture. I wish mine were thicker.”

Ara murmured in reply before catching the young stylist’s reflection in the mirror and realising how rude she must have sounded. Da-eun had come to the company some months before and was undeniably sweet. Too sweet, Ara sometimes thought, for the business she was in. The other makeup artists and hairdressers loved to keep one ear to the wall, in case there was a chance of promotion or, she rather cynically suspected, a way to increase their pay by selling gossip, but Da-eun didn’t seem like that. At least not yet.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ara smiled into the glass at the figure behind her. “I’m glad I have you to do it for me. The roots are a nightmare!”

Da-eun returned the smile and seemed to relax, but a curious expression still played on her features as she ran the straightener gently across the dyed tips of hair. “Are you tired?”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” Ara confirmed, briefly closing her eyes. Da-eun knew not to press her, but she couldn’t help but worry the younger woman might know more than she was letting on. They had shared hotel rooms in the past and, perhaps it was the stylist's instinct, used to paying close attention to detail, but she always seemed to tell when something was amiss. It was frustrating sometimes. 

“I looked at the schedule. You’re not going on set until last so you’ll have time to rest before you go out.” Da-eun murmured helpfully. Ara nodded, relieved. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Da-eun should quit while she could; while she was still young and hopeful and kind. 

“I just don’t have the energy right now…” Ara sighed as she felt her hair being released. The younger woman finished working the ends and unplugged the device from the dressing room table. 

“Did you sign the contract yet?” 

Her voice was inquisitive and a little optimistic. Ara had never asked, but there was always the chance that Da-eun’s contract was somehow tied to her own; that if the group were to disband, she might lose her job. Ara shook her head lightly.

“No.”

Da-eun raised an eyebrow. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I just haven’t had time to read it properly.” She said, truthfully. “It’s come around sooner than I thought…”

The stylist moved forward, reaching for the set of hairbrushes on the counter, before selecting the biggest. She teased through the ends of hair with her short fingers before brushing lightly along the bleached roots, smoothing the locks. 

“There’s been rumours.” The younger woman said, voice suddenly low as though she were worried about being overheard. A thick curtain set apart the dressing room from the photography studio, but it was always possible someone was listening. 

Ara blinked, tensing a little. “What?”

Da-eun smiled gently. “That you’re making a solo album.”

“Oh…” The older woman wasn’t sure what she had expected, but this news took her by surprise. “I wasn’t planning on it.” She shrugged.

“That’s a relief.” Da-eun beamed with a small laugh. “I’m looking forward to going home soon. Aren’t you?”

Ara opened her mouth to speak, not sure what she was going to say, but the curtain beside them drew apart suddenly; startling them both. 

“Oh! Costume change…” Da-eun exclaimed, setting down the brush and turning to accommodate the older woman who had just entered. Mimi was a year older than Ara and usually less prone to accidents, but the leather strap on her camisole suggested a wardrobe malfunction which needed attending to at once.

“Sorry to interrupt…” The other woman murmured apologetically, gesturing to Da-eun. “Could you fix this for me?”

“Sure.” She nodded, stepping away.

Ara’s phone had vibrated against her thigh twenty minutes before but she hadn’t wanted to risk opening the text, especially with someone standing over her shoulder. As Da-eun seated Mimi in the rotating chair on the opposite side of the room to take a look at her costume, Ara took the moment to slip the device from her pocket and flick through the recent notifications. Unsurprisingly, it had been Jimin who had texted and she read the sentence a couple of times before returning it to her pocket.

‘Two more weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing you. It’s been too long.’ 

***

Ara sipped from the glass, the cool water clearing her throat and offering a much needed refreshment from the events of the day. Her voice had become raspy from singing, but luckily she didn’t need it to type. 

‘Jimin,

I was cleaning my closet before we went on tour and found the dress I was wearing on the night we met.’

She found herself smiling, a little longingly, at the memory, a strange anecdote coming to mind.

‘It still has a Daiquiri stain on the hem and it’s too big for me now. I don’t know why I’m saving it.’

The thought made her sad, somehow. 

‘I wonder if you remember that night as clearly as I do. I didn’t want to leave. I knew you were with someone else, but I didn’t care.’

A deep frown played on her otherwise gentle features.

‘Does that make me a bad person?’

It wasn’t until she read the line back, she realised the thought had never occurred to her before. Not once in five years. She wondered why it suddenly seemed to matter. With a sigh, she continued, committing her trail of thoughts to the page.

‘You told me it was over the next time we met, and I believed you, but part of me wondered if you’d go back to her, once you knew how inexperienced I was. I guess I know how you feel sometimes. The whole thing has taken me by surprise as well. I never felt like anyone would want me.’

Her chest ached as she typed the final sentence; overwhelmed by emotion. It was true that the compliments and flirty glances she often received were met with an automatic but fleeting sense of glee. It felt novel, after so long of feeling like she didn’t deserve it. It sometimes still felt that way; back in the hotel room, after the cheers of the crowd had faded. She had brought the subject up with her company counsellor who had laughed it off, explaining that everyone suffered with imposter syndrome from time to time; she wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. On the matter of flirting, she had kept that one to herself. It felt too personal and she was sure it would come across as vain. Occasionally it was unwarranted; the older mens’ eyes moving down her legs when she took to the stage in a short skirt back in Seoul, or the way she jumped in alarm when someone once slipped their hand down the back of her jeans while she stood tightly packed in an elevator in Osaka. But other times she found her heart racing and stomach churning; not thinking of Jimin until she tucked herself in bed at night. A pretty, tall waitress brushing her hand as she handed over the bill in a Thai restaurant, or the hotel doorman who had helped her move her luggage earlier in the week and smiled kindly at her in the lobby. She knew Jimin, of all people, would understand. She had seen the way he played the audience, like he had a secret to share with them all. Early in their relationship it had made her crazy; the way he seemed to flirt with anyone he came into contact with, often without even realising. But now the tables had turned. He would understand; but she wasn’t sure he would accept it. 

She glanced a warily at the shadowy corner of the room where an oversized bouquet of red roses sat on the dresser. They had arrived earlier to the hotel room, along with a postcard sized letter from her manager. He had been unable to make the trip to Taiwan but was waiting for her in Tokyo; the contract was ready, whenever she was ready to sign. The flowers seemed like a bribe; the gesture leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She wondered if the other two girls had received any, or if the privilege was all hers. 

The sound of her ringtone, a chirpy, summer tune, alerted her to the fact that an hour had already passed and it was getting late. She quickly swiped the screen and raised it to her ear, not wanting to wake up the neighbours.

“Hello?”

There was a pause before Jimin spoke. “How are you?” 

“Good.” She squinted at her watch with a frown. “What time is it there?”

“2am.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She asked, a little baffled. He hadn’t called her this late in a while.

“I only just got in. There was a company dinner.” He explained. “What are you up to?”

She hesitated. “Just thinking.”

He laughed, softly mocking her. “Just thinking?”

She shook her head, dismissing it. “Oh, it’s nothing…I was drying my hair.” She lied, fingering the ends of the bone-dry locks in an automatic response. “Da-eun dyed the tips purple for the photoshoot.”

“I liked the pink.” He groaned, a little sulkily.

“They thought purple would fit better with the concept photos.” She mumbled deflatedly. “It’s not really my choice.”

“You could change it when you come home.” He said hopefully. She heard the flirtatious grin in his voice and could picture his smile on the other end. “They can’t do anything about it once your contract has ended.” 

“Maybe.” 

She sounded distant and he noticed the change at once.

“Are you okay?” 

She closed her eyes tightly, temporarily blocking out the glare from the laptop screen. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

“Did you take a look at the brochures I emailed you?”

“I haven’t had time. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” She knew she sounded a little irritated but was unable to mask it. The weight of the day suddenly seemed to dawn on her and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was moving house. 

“I’d really like you to help.” He argued lightly. “There’s a three bedroom going for sale on the Han River. Yoongi says it’s a good deal.”

Ara sighed. “I’m sure he’s right.”

A pause. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I wish you’d stop asking.” She pleaded, feeling on the verge of tears. Jimin seemed to hear the tremor in her voice and thought for a long moment before he spoke, tentatively.

“Maybe you should ask the doctor to change your medication again.”

Ara clutched the phone tightly. “It’s fine.” She tried to smile, hoping it would show in her voice. “I’m feeling much better, just tired.”

“Is that a side effect?” 

He sounded concerned and she nodded to herself, though she knew full well she hadn’t taken the time to read the little leaflet properly. “Probably. Maybe I just need some sleep.”

“Okay.” He agreed, though she sensed his trepidation. “I’d better go then.”

He sounded disappointed and Ara felt guilty once more. “I’m sorry Jimin.” She apologised softly. “It really was nice that you called. It’s just these time zones…”

“I understand.” 

She wondered if he did. Her eyes felt damp beneath her heavy, false eyelashes, making them itch. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

***

She had forgotten her contact lenses and had to rummage through her Birkin to retrieve her reading glasses. They felt strange on her nose and she wondered how she had ever made it through high school wearing them. At least she had been given a moment’s peace to read through the contract. The office overlooked Ueno Station and the rush of traffic below would be too distracting had someone also been watching her. 

‘As a permanent member of the label you should not bring the company into disrepute…’

She read carefully, though the paperwork seemed much larger than the last one she had signed. Some of the phrases looked familiar, such as the declaration of her dedication to being a ‘brand ambassador’, but others were definitely new. Her gaze hovered over one line:

‘...should not jeopardize future success…not limited to personal relationships, controversial thought or opinion including strong ties to political associations, ideologies or groups.’

She expected no less, particularly after Mimi was caught on camera reading a Betty Friedan book. The first part was more complicated and she wondered if Jimin’s management had asked something similar of him. 

With a sigh, she continued down the page, skimming the text now but picking up on key words which seemed important, ‘Maintain a visible and transparent social media presence….Agree to the screening and management of said accounts with the view of protecting our artists and their wellbeing.’

By the time she reached the end, it did not seem to matter and there was a strange comfort in realising this. The past three years had been carefully planned, organised, operated; her future written for her from the moment she stepped foot on stage for the first time. The moments of quiet between shows, or during her increasingly short stays back in Seoul, only seemed to complicate things further. Her thoughts were a mess whenever she stopped to breathe for a moment, and maybe it was easier to shut them off altogether; to give over all control and decision-making to someone else than to try and deal with them all herself. 

The fountain pen was heavier than she expected as she picked it off the table. It had the company brand embossed on the side in gold-leaf which seemed to reflect the fading light outside as the sun set below the concrete structure of the art museum to the West. Slowly, she signed her name on the final page; the ink blotting a little as she moved aside the bound file and repeated the motion on the second copy. The second attempt was neater as she grew used to the feel of the pen in her hand. There was a knack to it; just like many of the things she had grown to learn in her adult life; underwear should be washed on the delicate cycle, t-shirts should be turned inside out before they are ironed, glasses should not be left in the sink too long, should they smash. She had an assistant to do those things now, and her clothes were mostly dry cleaned these days. 

She neatened the piles of paper and put the lid back on the pen, so the ink wouldn’t dry. The first contract had been signed in black Biro, which hadn’t come with such demands. Reaching down, she picked up her black handbag and carefully folded her personal copy, slipping it between her lipstick and glasses case before adding the pen. She had probably paid for it anyway; in her own way. The green light on her phone was blinking and she slid it from the pouch in the lining. The text had arrived while she was in the meeting, which is why she hadn’t heard her phone go off. Her thumb paused over the messenger button for a moment, before she tapped the screen lightly; Jimin’s name and picture coming into view in the little window above the text. 

‘One more week! :)’

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

& Our full masterlist of fics and original art can be found here

& Our masterlist of preferences/most likely to/quizzes and fun stuff is here

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)