#I’m starting another right after posting I need to draw her MORE

[kenybeets]

I needed to draw her in the outfit again because like yeah it just makes me happy also regular her with gun

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

  Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

 Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

*

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

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Up Next

Chapter 2

[velvet-games]

ficlet inspired by this post @theautotrophic made. it ended spiraling into something very different lol but it's still kind of the same idea? I just needed to explain why vox joins the hotel in my universe.

“Ugh! How is this still happening?” Charlie moaned, turning off the TV. “I don’t think we can make any progress if we don’t start creating our own news coverage.”

“What was that?” Alastor stepped closer to the couch she and Vaggie were slumped on, suddenly curious. 

“It’s Vox. He’s making almost every channel about how much of a failure the hotel is – even though we just proved redemption is possible – and I think it’s actually gaining a lot of traction.” Charlie sighed. “It’s just … I thought everything would get better after we saved the day and my dad could help out, you know? But we’re still fighting just to get people to give us a chance.”

Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re the ones with actual proof. I’m sure if we make our own announcement–”

“Wait! Alastor, you made that commercial last time, right?”

“Oh, uh, about that, Charlie–”

“You can make more to counter Vox’s stuff. Hey, and you were friends with him at some point too, right? So you know how to deal with him–”

“Charlie.” Vaggie spun Charlie around to face her. “Sorry. It’s just …”

“Vaggie made a deal with me so that I would never have to work with those picture boxes again,” Alastor finished cheerfully. 

Vaggie visibly deflated in shame. “Uh, yeah, something like that,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.” Her expression became even more miserable as Charlie seemed to deflate too.

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Well, maybe you could–”

“But!” Alastor interjected, holding up a finger. He was far above drawing any attention to the Vees unprovoked, but this was about as good of an excuse as any. “The purpose of the deal was to prevent me from having any obligation to use the medium for producing entertainment. I would be happy to … take care of the interference from Vox.”

“Great!” Charlie’s eyes shone for one perfectly naive second before her face twisted in suspicion. “Wait … what are you gonna do?”

“Oh, just mess with his wires a little; nothing extreme, dear.”

—

A loud BOOM shook the building as Vaggie failed for the third time to get the TV to turn on. She sighed. “Goddammit.” None of the TVs were working, the Vees’ website had crashed, and Alastor had been gone for the last 24 hours. Vaggie could almost see the expression of horror on Charlie’s face when she found out Alastor had absolutely done more than “mess with his wires a little.” Vaggie rushed to the window, and yep. There it was: a giant red deer demon with shadow tentacles shooting out of it as a much smaller blue smudge darted around with trails of electricity following it. She sighed again. “Charlie? Come down; Alastor’s being an asshole again.”

—

“And I had a great idea for a new show that was gonna air today too!” Vox narrowly dodged another hit from Alastor’s shadows. 

“Another new show? My dear, you really are proving just how much you’re throwing rocks at the wall in the hopes that they’ll miraculously stick.” Alastor turned as Vox appeared behind him in a shower of sparks. “And was it really your idea? Or did you just have your little unpaid underlings come up with it for you?” 

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, I think we’re far past that possibility, darling.” Alastor chuckled, finally managing to grab Vox before he could jump into another streetlamp. “What was the idea? Another reality dating show with manufactured drama? Really, is anything you produce even remotely original nowadays?” The shadow tendril threw Vox into a nearby building. What remained of the terrified pedestrians scattered like ants as Vox fell, several bricks going with him. “What a pity. You used to at least come up with half-decent stories, even if the endings were always laughable.”

Vox groaned, trying to hold several shards of his broken screen in place. “N-No one cares. No one fucking cares what you think; I’m the one who built the empire. You have like, three listeners on that ancient radio show.”

“And each one of them has told me how much they like it, that it’s their favorite, even!” Alastor leaned down. “Would anyone watch you without the hypnosis, without other people’s hard work masquerading as your own?” He smirked. “Would anyone love you without manipulation?”

That last part caused Vox to look up, teeth bared. Several wires shot out of the building behind him and attached themselves to his head, lifting him up to be at eye level with Alastor. “Would anyone love you without manipulation?” Alastor kept smiling despite the surge of electricity that hit him; he quickly batted Vox out of the air, cutting off the attack. 

“I’ll have you know that nearly everyone who meets me adores me, whether they admit it or not,” Alastor replied smoothly. “Including you.”

Vox was on his knees, wires falling as he coughed up what became a puddle of blood. It was always startling how red it was, despite the mechanical nature of most of his body. “Yeah, have a fucking laugh.” His voice became quiet, muffled by static. “Have a fucking laugh about the fact that I loved you and you threw me away like a box of scraps.” He sniffed, standing up shakily and wiping a trail of red from his mouth. “Well, I’m the one with all the influence now, aren’t I? I’m the one with an actual team. You were fading even before you left; I bet you really did ask an angel for help, just to stay fucking relevant. Most of the other overlords aren’t scared of you anymore, and they’ll fucking kill you when none of them are.” 

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “You loved me? Is that why you ran away with that moth to make ‘entertainment’ even you won’t watch?” He started shrinking to his usual size, stepping forward. 

Vox scrambled back, one hand generating a few weak sparks. “Val loves me.”

“Valentino knows you’ll gnaw on any affection you get like a starving dog with a soup bone.” Alastor pushed Vox to the ground again, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Vox’s throat. The sparks in his hand died. “He knows you’re too selfish to make a real connection with anyone.”

Tears welled in Vox’s eyes, round and filling up nearly all of what was left of his screen. “I-I still love you,” he managed to choke out quietly. 

Alastor tightened his grip. “You love money. And I was stupid enough to care for you before I realized that.” Vox’s eyes managed to get even bigger as he started to really choke. “But you’re just dirt underneath my feet, and I’ll kill you every day that I have left here so you remember that.” Alastor just watched Vox’s face for a moment, then pulled out a small knife with his other hand. “Actually, you know what? I have angelic steel with me. I think I’ll just finish you here.” He drove the blade into Vox's side before he could respond, prompting a pained, strangled sound. It wouldn’t kill him quickly. He’d feel it for hours as he bled out if no one helped him. 

“Alastor!” a shrill voice called. He turned to see Charlie’s panicked face, her chest jumping with labored breaths as she stumbled to a stop. “Stop! Stop; I’m sure he’s had enough.”

Alastor stood up, giving one last petty kick to Vox’s leg. He put on an upbeat tune. “Hm, alright. I was just about getting bored with him anyway. How about we go get lunch at that new place around the corner? I’m absolutely starved!”

“I–” Charlie blinked. “No, Alastor, he–” She looked around his shoulder, flinching when she saw the state Vox was in. “Shouldn’t we help him?” she whispered. 

“And whyever would we do that?” 

“Well, I mean …” Charlie started, then appeared to brighten a little. “Actually. I have an idea.” She straightened her shoulders, putting on her “aggressively-kindly” face and voice. “As princess of Hell, I command you to leave the Vees and come help with the hotel. And make up with Alastor.” She glanced at Alastor apologetically before mumbling quickly, “onlyifyouwanttothoughyoudon’thavetodoanythingyou’renotcomfortablewith.” 

Vox blinked, managing to look unimpressed despite bleeding profusely and only having a quarter of his original face visible between all the cracks and glitching. “I would literally rather kill myself.”

Charlie blushed all the way to her ears. “O-Oh.” 

Alastor just burst out laughing, making a show of spinning his cane as he stepped closer to Vox. “Well, old friend,” he said, lifting a heeled boot above Vox’s chest and pressing down. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary if you refuse our help.” Vox sputtered a little as Alastor continued to push. “How about this: Lucifer can heal your wound, and you take a temporary break from working with the Vees, just long enough to help us create a presentation for the angels.” He let his gums show with a smirk that probably contained enough smugness to kill a horse. “And I would love to have you for dinner the night you leave. Is that a deal?”

Vox immediately blushed despite clearly being too lightheaded from blood loss to fully understand what Alastor was saying. “You bastard” – Alastor pressed harder – “Fine! Fine, yes. It’s a deal justliftyourfootholyshitfuck–”

“Wonderful!” Alastor lifted his boot, leaving Vox coughing and bending over on his side. “Now. you two have fun; I’m afraid I need another visit to the tailor,” he said. He brushed off his lapels and straightened his cuffs. “Oh, and Vox? It wasn’t angelic steel; I just think desperation suits you.”

Alastor was gone before the cries of indignant surprise assaulted his ears.

[floofyroro]

With my ✨golden birthday✨ approaching, I think I’ll finally post part 1 of my Crosshair/fem!reader fic this week. 👀

I’m itching for feedback so I think this will be good motivation to polish and edit this week so that it’s ready to be uploaded by Sunday evening, CST.

Here’s a sneakpeek in the meantime.

Consider it a small taste of what’s to come. 🤫

The Herbalist

Summary: A year after rescuing Omega from Tantiss, Crosshair is still adjusting to life on Pabu. You're the island herbalist who has just returned from a year-long pilgrimage on Naboo. As you familiarize yourself with the island newcomers, you grow close with Omega, who becomes your little helper in the gardens. Somehow, you continue crossing paths with her intimidating brother and you find that you're drawn to his elusiveness. (Slight AU because Tech is alive.)

His name is called amidst the clamor of the crowd and Crosshair squints as he scans his surroundings, only to find Omega waving from a corner stall. The humidity clings to Crosshair as he parts through a throng of people and he’s lost track of how many times he has cursed the climate. The familiar training blacks he’s worn for most his life were recently confiscated by Omega, in the name of ‘relaxation.’ 

You need a fresh start. I think most things hold memories, whether good and bad, she had argued.

After that, their unconventional squad were given the island’s finest garments made of kelpcotton and linenfiber, courtesy of Shep. The boys knew it was all Omega’s doing as it has her fingerprints all over it. Crosshair shoves thoughts of his beloved training blacks aside when he’s met with Omega’s eager energy as she stands next to another stall.

She’s practically beaming as she holds a jar up to him. It’s seemingly filled with an organic mixture of sorts, the contents rolling to one side due to Omega’s tilted grasp on it. She then pops the lid open and a waft of earthy aroma hits Crosshair’s senses immediately. 

“Do you recognize it?”

Before Crosshair can even respond to Omega’s prompt, his brother interjects.

“Our evening tea!” Tech leans in closer to sniff. “We made our last brew just last night. Excellent thinking, we’re in need of a restock.” He winks at her then, and Omega nods in resolve, snapping the lid shut. 

She then motions behind the stall, bringing attention to you. 

That overpowering aroma of tea hits Crosshair's senses once more. You emit an air of quiet confidence as you stand surrounded by what he surmises is your livelihood; hanging foliage, dry and fresh alike strung together, creating a cascading effect around your stall. Vitality is the word that resounds in his mind, perhaps due to the nature of the items you’re offering to sell. 

And maybe due to the healthy glow of your skin.

Omega tugs at his sleeve, drawing his attention from you. 

“You’ve been sleeping better at night, right?” 

He pauses to consider. It’s been evident that the past two weeks have garnered the most restorative rest Crosshair is able to experience. Nightmares still plague him most nights, but considering his sleep over the past three years, the difference is night and day. He ignored Wrecker’s comment the other evening that he no longer resembles a human skeleton and that his skin has lost that dull, transparent sheen to it. 

One could also blame that on the relentless sun, Crosshair had countered. 

Or on the meditation! Omega had chirruped.

So, Crosshair waits for Omega to continue because surely she has some sort of agenda to share. 

“Well, that’s thanks to the herbalist,” Omega finally says, pointing to you. “She’s been showing me how to take care of the island’s garden plots and greenhouses.” 

A connection is made then; when Omega wants a break from training, whether that be piloting with Tech or hand-to-hand with Hunter, she’ll disappear from the household until it’s time to commune for dinner. She almost always returns with tousled hair and a thin layer of dirt coating her skin. Your name is mentioned in passing during their evening meals but Crosshair has never thought twice about you. Now he’s putting face to name and realizing that she’s been assisting you all along.

[porcupine-girl]

I had the weirdest possible Check Please dream.

Ngozi was going to do another volume, and we were all excited because Shippy and Taylor were finally going to get together.

Who tf are Shippy and Taylor you might ask?

Shippy, I immediately realized upon waking up, is Tater, but in this dream world somehow he got a different nickname and I don’t even know how. Idk if my brain was just like “he’s part of this popular ship and I’m lazy” or “Tater and Taylor would sound too cutesy and I really want this girl to be named Taylor for some reason” or what.

Taylor was not Vanessa with a different name. She had spiky lavender hair that looked a bit like this animal crossing hairdo:

But longer, like if it were lying flat it’d be about chin length, and of course in Ngozi’s drawing style.

I didn’t find out much more bc I woke up due to my husband getting up to get ready for work, but somehow when I got back to sleep, for once my brain deigned to continue my dream from before. It is apparently very invested in Shippy/Taylor (although after I woke up and realized Shippy was Tater my brain went back and forth between the two names).

So in the continuation, I learned that Taylor was already dating another member of the Falconers (I’m not sure I ever got his name), but he was very controlling and emotionally abusive and everyone on the team was hoping she’d leave him and kind of shunning the boyfriend socially due to his behavior.

Tater ran into her in like… a mall food court sort of location? And somehow their conversation led to him confessing his feelings but saying that it was fine if she didn’t want to be with him, just begging her to leave the controlling guy and saying he’d help her however he could just as her friend. She was clearly not quite ready to leave yet, but then her boyfriend called and when she said oh I’m at the mall and I ran into Tater so we were just hanging out he got really pissed that she was hanging out with another guy (in a totally public location, and being honest about it) without him and demanded she come home right away. And when she hung up you could see that having that conversation right after the conversation with Tater was kind of making her realize that she really did need to get out of it.

Tater saw that too and jumped on it, like “If you don’t want me to help I’ll call Jack and Bitty (which my brain then corrected to Zimmboni and Little B, it was like my brain was like helloooo this is Tater unlike you Ngozi would write him correctly) right now and they will come help you get your stuff, you can stay in their guest room, they would love to help.” And she was kind of mortified by this, like oh god does the entire team know??? And he was like, well. Yeah. Kinda. Everyone’s rooting for you to leave him, that’s why nobody talks to him or hangs out with him outside practice, we all know how awful he is. And she was like oh god, great, everyone knows how stupid I am for staying with a guy like him, but Tater was like no no no everyone knows how hard it is to leave that kind of thing but we all know you’re strong enough to do it as soon as you decide you’re ready.

And that was about as far as I got in the Shippy/Taylor saga before I woke up for good. I can only assume Jack and Bitty did come get her and let her stay with them, and eventually once she was over the nasty breakup she got together with Tater.

What’s really funny was that when I went to start writing this post I couldn’t remember her name, only that it started with a T and was like 6-ish letters long. I started the post calling her Tricia and was like no that’s not right, so I googled girl names that start with T and was just hoping that if I read enough lists of names something would click and maybe I’d recognize it if I saw it. Then I opened the first list and the very first name was Taylor and I was like OH RIGHT MY BRAIN NAMED HER AFTER TAYLOR FUCKING SWIFT HOW DID I FORGET THAT??

[use-your-telescope]

Together by this Christmas Tree

Summary: The Avengers have an annual tradition of a Secret Santa Gift Exchange, and Theo’s life becomes a real life Hallmark Movie when she draws Loki’s name and has to get him five days of gifts. Because shopping for a god and a prince, especially one that you have a massive crush on, is easy, right?!

Author's Notes: HELLO AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! This is a one-shot set in the WEMTBB world with our favorite sorcerers, however you do not need to be caught up on (or even have started) WEMTBB in order to enjoy this story! For those of you who are reading WEMTBB, this takes place in the future, when these two are in their “mutual pining idiots” stage; you will absolutely spot some easter eggs, but there are no major spoilers here.

This is for @sarahscribbles Christmas Collection, because I’m strolling in five minutes late with Starbucks for Christmas by posting this the day after Christmas. If you're a regular reader of WEMTBB, I am still planning to update it on Sunday (12/31).

Content: Absolute tooth-rotting fluff, Secret Santa, LOADS of mutual pining, Wanda being a very supportive friend, some pranks along the way, Loki in multiple sweaters, and lots of Loki getting the love, kindness, and attention he deserves.

Word Count: 8,104

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

—

When Steve first made the announcement, at the end of a mission debrief, Theo swore he was joking.

The idea of the Avengers making a point to celebrate Christmas seemed a bit strange - beyond the fact that there were two Norse Gods on the team, it seemed presumptuous to assume everyone else was Christian. 

Theo’s feelings about the winter holidays were, at best, ambivalent. Sure, she liked the holiday lights, and she was a sucker for a good holiday song. She enjoyed showering her niece, Katie, with presents - after all, what kind of auntie would Theo be if she didn’t absolutely spoil her niece? And any time Theo could visit Mémère for longer than an hour or two was a blessing in its own right.

But the holidays also reminded her of the family she lost, and being the single friend at every holiday party got tiring (especially when her well-intended friends kept trying to set Theo up with people that Theo had absolutely no interest in). It had reached a point that Theo often volunteered to work the holiday shifts, as chaotic as they were, just so she had the excuse to avoid awkward gatherings.

However, when the other Avengers lit up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree at the announcement of the Secret Santa gift exchange, Theo kept her mouth shut. She was still relatively new to the team, and it wasn’t the first time she had been subjected to workplace celebrations for holidays she didn’t celebrate. 

But of course, this was a group of superheroes celebrating, so it wasn’t a basic Secret Santa; no, of course not, because nothing about them was basic. It was five days of secret Santa. 

At least the rules were simple: each person drew the name of another Avenger. Then, you had to give the person whose name you drew a series of gifts with clues about your identity leading up to the final day, when you would give them a gift and a final clue. Then, each person would try to guess who their Secret Santa was. Regardless of whether or not they figured it out, each person would receive one final gift, something a bit more special.

Steve closed the announcement by informing the group they would draw names the following Monday, and would have approximately a month to pick out gifts before they completed the exchange. A certain buzz filled the air as everyone left the conference room, with some reminiscing about funny moments from past exchanges, while others pondered over who they might end up with.

It wasn’t until after the meeting that Theo had the foresight to ask if the Secret Santa exchange was meant to replace getting everyone their own gifts, or if it was in addition to getting everyone their own gifts. Wanda, ever the MVP when it came to explaining unwritten Avengers’ rules to Theo, explained that it was in addition to getting everyone else gifts. 

Theo spent the next two days praying she would get someone easy to shop for - after all, she already had to get gifts for a dozen Avengers, plus her hospital colleagues, and her family. She wasn’t sure that she had enough mental capacity to figure out gifts for someone she wasn’t as familiar with.

Of course, some deity had it out for her, because she drew Loki’s name.

Loki, the prince and ‘most powerful sorcerer in the nine realms,’ who could buy or conjure pretty much anything he wanted in the snap of his fingers.

Loki, who, besides being Theo’s best friend among the Avengers, happened to be the person Theo had a massive fucking crush on.

It wasn’t like anything would ever come of the crush - Loki had a firm rule that he did not date. He had no interest in relationships whatsoever. It was a tidbit of information Theo learned early on in her tenure as an Avenger, amidst a conversation about the love lives of the Avengers as a whole. Loki would spend one night with someone, but never allow it to become an ongoing thing - in his words, “everyone has certain needs to satiate, but courting someone is no interest of mine.” 

So, despite Theo’s unbidden thoughts of channeling her inner hallmark movie to reveal her feelings to Loki, she needed to figure out how the hell to navigate getting him Secret Santa gifts, a normal gift… oh yeah, and his birthday gift, because that was a week before Christmas.

Inevitably, once they finished drawing names, Theo immediately dragged Wanda down the hall by the sleeve of her red hoodie and into Wanda’s suite, since it was closer than Theo’s.

“What’s going on?” Wanda half-laughed as she closed the door and glanced, worriedly, at Theo, who had started to pace the room. “Are you okay?”

“I need your help with Secret Santa — What the hell do you get someone who could have anything they want for Christmas?” Theo flopped on Wanda’s bed with a dramatic sigh, her mind reeling with how to handle her predicament.

“That depends –” Wanda answered slowly, eyes narrowed as she approached Theo. “Why do you think they have everything?” 

“Because he’s a prince and a God who can conjure anything he damn well pleases with the snap of his fingers!” Theo tossed her arms up in the air, gesturing exasperatingly at nothing. 

Nothing - just like the ideas she had for Loki’s gifts. 

Nothing.

“So you have Loki for your Secret Santa?” Wanda sat down beside Theo, smirking at her.

“Yes!” Theo buried her face with her hands. “I had a hard enough time figuring out a birthday present, and I still haven’t figured out what to get him for a normal Christmas gift! But now I also have to give him a Secret Santa gift?!”

“Gifts, plural.” Wanda reminded her, smirk widening into a rather evil-looking grin. “Remember, it’s a week of lead-up to the final gift, because the goal is to try and have them guess who it is.”

“FUCK.” Theo let her arms drop to her sides. “This isn’t fair—“ she whined, earning a poorly stifled laugh from Wanda. 

“Oh come on, it’s not like he’s the only one who is hard to shop for,” Wanda attempted to sympathize, but the giggles that slipped out as she replied did little to help. “Can you imagine having to buy gifts for Tony?”

“Simple, get him booze.” Theo scoffed, propping herself up on her elbows. 

Wanda rolled her eyes and adjusted her ponytail, one auburn lock falling aside to frame her face.

“Look, half the fun is writing the little cards that go with each gift to give the person clues about who the gifts are from, and then trying to figure out the identity of your Secret Santa,” Wanda pointed out. “Besides, other than Thor, I’m willing to bet that no one knows Loki as well as you do!”

“That only makes it worse,” Theo complained and flopped back a second time, rolling over to bury her face in Wanda’s burgundy comforter. “Because I know he’s a picky bitch and nothing will be good enough for him.”

The snort that came out of Wanda did nothing to ease Theo’s concern, but it sounded ridiculous enough that even Theo laughed. 

“I think that he’d like any gift you give him, simply because it’s from you.” 

“That’s cliché as hell.” Theo pressed herself up enough to look over at Wanda, who, despite Theo’s whining and dramatics, still wore a small, knowing smile.

“And true.” Wanda shrugged. “You are, without a doubt, his favorite person on the team, and probably on this planet.”

“Yeah, for all the good that does me.” Theo grumbled to herself, but sat up all the way. “It’s not like I can tell him on day one that I’m his Secret Santa, so the gifts have to be good. No, they have to be perfect.”

“You’re overthinking this.” Wanda chuckled softly, then rose to her feet and held out a hand for Theo to grab onto. “How about we go shopping and see what is out there? Maybe you’ll get some inspiration that way.”

The petulant child within Theo wanted to complain for a bit longer about her predicament, but deep down, Wanda had a good point. If nothing else, it would give her a chance to get out and clear her head before the inevitable descent into holiday madness.

“Right. That’s probably a good idea.” Theo accepted Wanda’s hand and allowed her to pull Theo onto her feet. “I need to get gifts for my family anyways, so maybe i’ll knock it all out at once.” 

“Only if I can help you pick out gifts for Katie,” Wanda winked at Theo as she opened the door. 

“Deal.” Theo didn’t have to think twice before answering. “Do you have plans for this afternoon? I’m not working, so we could go today…”

Wanda held up her purse and grinned. “Let’s go!”

—

Shopping with Wanda, unsurprisingly, proved to be a fruitful venture. 

Sure, the pair went absolutely wild with gifts for Theo’s niece. Would Max kill Theo when he saw just how much stuff Theo got? Absolutely. Did she care? Not a bit; after all, she had to maintain her reputation as the coolest aunt.

More importantly, Theo managed to put together a list of ideas for gifts that referenced inside jokes from the time that Theo and Loki had known each other. Even better - the conversation between Theo and Wanda as they shopped, though wide-ranging and lively, gave Theo the inspiration for her final gift.

In the end, the gifts required some careful planning, calling in some favors, and a lot of sneaking to make it happen - not to mention a few sleepless nights as Theo put the finishing touches on certain details - but she managed to pull everything together, just in time for the first day of gift-giving.

Pepper had really outdone herself with the holiday decorations. On a normal day, the common areas within the tower could be described as minimalist: clean lines, lots of metal and glass, neutral tones everywhere, no knick knacks or soft touches to be found. Not even a throw pillow or blanket could be found in the common areas - whenever Theo wanted a pillow or a blanket, she had to bring it from her suite.

Yet, when everyone filtered into the living room after going out for dinner, they may as well have walked into a luxury ski chalet at Tahoe. In one corner sat a massive, lush evergreen tree trimmed with glistening tinsel, soft white lights, and a collection of beautifully coordinated ornaments in burgundy, cream, gold, navy, emerald, and eggplant. 

The fireplace had a beautiful garland of eucalyptus, cypress, and cedar draped across the mantle; tucked among the greenery sat pillar candles of varying heights in burgundy, navy, emerald, eggplant, and gold. Elegant, cream-colored stockings with each Avenger’s name embroidered at the top hung in front of the crackling fire (plus stockings for Pepper and Happy, since they were pretty much unofficial Avengers). 

Blankets and accent pillows, some in plaids that incorporated the colors of the ornaments and candles, others in solid colors, all made of luxuriously plush fabrics, found homes on the various seating throughout the living room. 

Even the coffee tables had coordinating centerpieces.

Theo quickly found her usual seat, but continued to gawk at the living room’s transformation. When the hell did Pepper (or, Theo supposed, whoever Pepper hired) have the time to decorate the living room? Just that morning, when Theo left for work, the living room had been its usual, minimalist styling. Maybe if she had stopped back in her suite before meeting the others at the restaurant she would have seen the living room decoration in progress.

Hardly a moment later, Loki sat down beside her. Dressed in a forest-green crewneck sweater that perfectly framed the planes of his chest and black dress pants that highlighted his long legs, Loki somehow managed to look holiday appropriate without even trying. His raven curls, just slightly disheveled from the wind and snow outside, framed his elegant features so perfectly; combined with the warm glow of the fire and the soft light of the christmas tree he appeared downright radiant, particularly as he grinned at something Thor said. 

“Quite magnificent, is it not?” Loki leaned over and nudged Theo with his elbow, interrupting her train of thought. Theo had to stop for a moment and consider whether he was referring to the himself, or the living room.

“Yeah,” Theo agreed, her cheeks growing hot as she realized Loki caught her staring. “Compared to when I left this morning, it is a night and day difference.“

“I suspect Miss Potts takes great pleasure in decorating for the winter holidays.” Loki offered Theo a soft smile. His soft eyes caught the flicker of the candles atop the coffee table as he studied Theo, and for the second time in less than a couple minutes, she found herself speechless.

Luckily, Dum-E saved the day when he dropped a present on Theo’s lap, and in doing so brought both sorcerers’ attention to the larger group. As it turned out, Dum-E distributed everyone’s gifts - all wrapped in the same paper, to make sure that the gift wrap didn’t give anything away - and as soon as he finished, it was time to open the first day’s gift.

They started with Bruce, then worked their way through a randomly generated list that Steve put together. The soft lights of the Christmas tree, glow of the fire crackling in the hearth, and joyous laughter as each person read their clue and opened their gifts filled the room with such warmth. It was the kind of holiday scene you’d see on a postcard, especially since snowflakes drifted past the tall windows and into the city below.

As they drew closer to Loki’s turn, Theo’s hands began to sweat. What if he didn’t like her gift? Sure, it was kind of corny, but it was a fun reference to how they spent much of their time. He didn’t seem overly thrilled by the idea of Secret Santa in the first place; what if her silly little gifts only made him hate the game?

Well, she didn’t have to wait any longer to find out, because it finally reached Loki’s turn.

Loki picked up the small box, turning it over and inspecting it. He tossed it into the air and caught it in one hand, lithe fingers curling perfectly around the container. 

“It is quite light, and rather small,” he observed. “Whatever is in this box does not jostle when moved, so it either fills the box or it is carefully packed in place. Let us see what is inside.”

Loki methodically removed the ribbons, then carefully tore away the gift wrap. He removed the lid in a graceful motion and set it aside, all the while peering into the box. He hummed.

Seeing the fabric folded and coiled inside, he reached in and tugged on the cloth, pulling it from the box. The fabric unfolded as he lifted the gift into the air, revealing the first gift: a pair of crew-length socks - black, with an emerald green heel and toe. On one side of each sock, placed so it would be visible while wearing shoes, was the design of an apple car driven by a worm, as well as text which read: “I’m on my way to the bookstore!”

“Aw, those are cute!” Wanda winked at Theo as she said the words, to which Theo casually agreed. 

Loki maintained a relatively neutral expression, though he let out a rather amused hum. He set the socks in his lap, then opened the card. As his eyes scanned over the text, one side of his lips curled up, then the other, until he wore a sheepish smile. He read aloud: 

“I know you love the bookstore,

We’ve been there a time or two,

But since I can’t buy the whole store,

I got you a pair of Crew… socks!

Sorry, I know you like poetry, but your Secret Santa isn’t a poet.” Loki chuckled, shaking his head, then continued: “These socks are from Out of Print, which has donated over 5 million books to communities in need and supports a variety of literacy initiatives.” 

He looked up from the card and glanced around at the group. “Well, thank you to my mysterious Secret Santa. I quite enjoy a whimsical piece of attire, and I am certain these will be put to good use.”

Next to Loki, Theo let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. 

First day was not a failure.

Only… four more to go.

—

The second day of gift-giving arrived, and with it came another day of second-guessing whether or not Loki would like his gift.  

This time, the idea came from a conversation early in their friendship. After falling asleep in Theo’s suite, Loki joined her for coffee on her balcony, at which point Theo explained a sudoku to Loki. At the time, he commented that there were “some puzzles he was still learning to solve.”

From that morning on, Theo couldn’t help but notice the way Loki approached briefings and missions as puzzles to solve. So when Theo found a pair of rather clever puzzle books (many of which provided a formidable challenge, even for her), she knew that it would be a perfect gift.

Yet, as the day crept on and the gift exchange grew near, Theo felt the seeds of doubt taking root once again. What if he thought the puzzles were stupid? He was a god, after all, and insanely intelligent. The puzzles might have been a challenge for Theo, but they were probably child’s play for Loki. 

Still, it was too late to turn back, so by the time Theo sat down with the others and the gifts were distributed, she simply hid her sweaty palms in her sweater sleeves and acted like it was any other night in the tower.

Loki, for what it was worth, seemed perfectly relaxed when he took his usual seat beside Theo; this time, he opted for a plain gray t-shirt and a black cardigan, paired with what were (secretly) Theo’s favorite pair of dark, slim-fit jeans. When Loki crossed one ankle over his knee, Theo noticed his emerald green and black socks and her heart skipped a beat - he wore the socks she gave him.

That was a good sign, right?

Once again, Dum-E distributed the gifts, then each person took their turn opening their gift and reading the card; this time they started with Yelena, but otherwise the order was the same. After what felt like ages, Steve finally gave Loki the go-ahead to open his gift.

Like the first day, Loki went through the same routine of examining the box, then peeled away the wrapping paper. 

For the sake of maintaining a bit of mystery (and making it slightly less obvious that the gift was a pair of books), Theo put the set into a clothing box and padded the sides. It wasn’t that sneaky, since the box was heavier than it would have been with apparel inside, but at least Loki wouldn’t know until he opened the box.

He opened the box and removed the first book. 

“The Master Theorem - Book of Puzzles, Intrigue, and Wit,” he read the title, then held it up for all to see, then held up the second book and read off the title. “The Master Theorem: Elite - Book of Puzzles, Intrigue, and Wit.”

He returned the books to his lap, pausing for a moment to flip through the pages and glance at the contents. 

“You gonna open the card?” Tony nodded towards the card that came with the box, which barely poked out from beneath the pair of books.

“Ah, yes, apologies.” Loki offered a half-smile, then retrieved the card and read aloud:

“While the identity of your Secret Santa is, well, a secret, it’s no secret that you, Loki, are pretty smart - like, ridiculously smart. And you’re a quick learner… Plus you’ve got a knack for problem solving. With that in mind, you seem to be a master when it comes to puzzles; even though you once told me there are still some puzzles you are learning to solve, the way you light up when you encounter a good logic puzzle or mystery makes me think there are few things you enjoy more than a good challenge.

“This series of puzzle books is notorious for its difficult logic puzzles - the New York Times called the first Master Theorem book “Mensa’s evil twin,” and the Elite edition is supposed to be exponentially harder. But with your sharp wit and attention to detail, I’m sure you’ll have it figured out in no time… And by the time you finish, maybe you’ll figure out the identity of your Secret Santa as well!”

Loki grinned as he folded the card and set it aside. “Thank you, my mysterious benefactor - I imagine I will be entertained for quite some time.”

For the rest of the evening, whenever Theo snuck a glance at Loki, she caught him flipping through his new books with a subtle smile and a twinkle in his eye, only half-paying attention to the others as they opened their gifts.

Day two: rousing success. Only three more days to go.

—

For the third day of gift-giving, Theo took a bigger risk.

At one point in Theo and Wanda’s shopping adventure, they stopped at a bakery to grab a snack and some coffee. While they waited for their drinks, they got on the topic of how, earlier that morning, Thor offered Loki a frosted pop-tart. In response, Loki nearly disintegrated the thing on sight, calling it an abomination to pastries everywhere.

And that was from Loki, the guy who was notorious for his sweet tooth. 

The conversation gave Theo an idea.

Ever since Loki roped Theo into his pranks, Theo had wanted to find a way to turn the tables and prank him. And what better way to prank him than to bait-and switch some sweet treats?

With a call to Theo’s favorite Bodega cashier, Carlos (who still hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask out that girl, but had at least he learned her name was Liza), Theo managed to get her hands on one of the big cardboard boxes that they shipped pop-tarts in. Importantly, it said pop-tarts all along the outside, so when Loki saw the box he would initially think it was a whole case of pop-tarts.

Instead of filling it with pop-tarts, Theo convinced Mémère to bake up all sorts of traditional Aneterran holiday treats to fill the box. Given Mémère already planned to make the treats, it was easy for the family matriarch to accommodate the request. However, when Theo explained her plan, a knowing, almost devilish grin spread across Mémère’s face; the next thing Theo knew, there were treats that Theo hadn’t seen since she was a child. 

Packing the treats into the box required quite a bit of attention to detail - it had to have the weight and heft of a case of pop-tarts, and it had to be packed tightly enough to not move around, but she also didn’t want to crush the treats. 

There may have been some enchantments involved to make it work, but hopefully Loki wouldn’t notice.  

Not wanting to make the prank too convincing, Theo made sure to leave clues that the box had been altered somehow; knowing Loki, realizing the box had been tampered with would make him curious enough to look inside.

When everyone gathered for the third night of gift-giving, the laughter and merriment from the first two nights returned almost immediately. But when it came to Loki’s turn to open his gift, Theo’s confidence from the day prior collided with her nerves, to the point that she clutched her mug of spiked hot chocolate so her hands wouldn’t shake. 

Just like the first two nights, Loki inspected the wrapped gift, lifting it up and giving it a gentle shake. “Much larger, and rather heavy,” he noted. “Yet, there’s a card that indicates I ought to open it before the gift. I suppose I ought to follow my Secret Santa’s request.”

He set the gift back in his lap, and quickly opened the card. 

“Heard you have a sweet tooth…” Loki read aloud, then glanced down at the gift and hummed. “Well, let us see what is inside.”

Loki started to tear away the wrapping paper, but paused part-way through; his face twisted into something unreadable when he saw the writing on the box. 

Theo bit her lip to not give herself away.

“Pop-tarts?” Thor exclaimed, cocking his head to the side with curiosity. “Brother, I did not think you to be a fan of the Midgardian pastry.”

“I…” Loki trailed off, face falling as he unwrapped the rest of the box. “Interesting.”

Theo’s heart stuttered in her chest - what if he didn’t think to open the box? Would she give herself away if she said something? Oh god, he looked like a kicked puppy — she should have realized that he might take it wrong because Thor likes pop-tarts and he’s the popular brother, shitshitshit—

“Loki, maybe you should open the box,” Bruce suggested, “There’s a weird wrinkle by the cardboard seam that makes me think it was opened, then closed again.”

If it wouldn’t have given her away, Theo would have leapt to her feet and hugged the man for his suggestion.

“Yeah, that box looks like it has been messed with,” Sam agreed, “and I think everyone knows you hate pop-tarts.”

The kicked-puppy expression softened as Loki took a second look at the box and noticed the obvious tampering that Bruce and Sam pointed out. A hint of pink rose on Loki’s cheeks - if Theo didn’t know better, Loki looked almost embarrassed at the realization - but he went ahead and opened the box. 

Theo held her breath, all of her attention trained on Loki as she waited for his reaction. 

Peering into the box, Loki’s shoulders suddenly dropped and relief flooded his features; he reached in and retrieved a treat similar to a chocolate scone, as well as a second card.

“Pleased to report that I was mistaken; it appears the box is filled with a variety of homemade treats, as well as a second card.” He let out a soft, almost hesitant chuckle as he opened the note and read aloud: 

“HA! Nearly got you, didn’t I?!” Loki laughed a second time, this time a little louder, and nodded his head. “You’ve pulled off some of the best pranks, but your Secret Santa is known for a good prank or two. 

“Jokes aside, did you really think your Secret Santa would do that to you? Of course not - I know you have a discerning taste when it comes to sweet treats (far more discerning than your brother, of course)! These are some of my favorite holiday snacks from growing up; I think you’d like them too. If nothing else, I promise they taste better than pop-tarts.”  

Loki returned the note to the box, then unwrapped the treat in his other hand. He took a bite, and his face almost immediately lit up. He chewed for a moment, then swallowed, and cleared his throat to speak. 

“Well, mysterious Secret Santa,” he said, “I will confirm that this treat is quite divine. However, you best watch yourself– “ Looking around at their teammates, a dark, sinister grin curled over Loki’s face. “– I am known as the Trickster god for a reason, and you may very well have started a war.”

When Loki briefly locked eyes with Theo, her heart skipped a few beats; in just a few moments he went from beautiful to downright devilishly handsome, and his threat should not have been nearly as hot as it was. 

Sweet baby Jesus, she needed to get her shit together. 

“Any guesses on who it is?” Bucky asked, tapping his vibranium fingers along the side of his still-wrapped present. 

“I’ve a few contenders,” Loki smoothly answered, the earlier signs of discomfort completely gone, “but I will wait to put forth any claims.”

“Who cares! The real question is are you gonna share!?” Shuri pointed at the pastry in Loki’s hand, then held out her own hand. “That looks amazing!”

“Maybe once the Secret Santa is revealed, they can bring us all some treats.” Wanda replied, though she gave Theo a pointed glance, to which Theo glared back - after all, she didn’t want Wanda to give her away. “But for now, I think Loki should get to enjoy all of his gifts.”

Loki, who was busy searching through the rest of the box, didn’t seem to notice Wanda staring at Theo. 

Shuri glanced at Wanda, then at Theo, then grinned as she made the connection. 

“Fine, but they better bring me some extras,” Shuri relented. “That thing looks amazing.” 

Theo smiled and rolled her eyes, just in time for Steve to inform Wanda that it was her turn to open her gift.

Day three, though nearly a bust, worked out. 

Only two more to go. 

—

After the scare of the third day, Theo went into the fourth day feeling more comfortable about her gift. Sure, Loki may shrug at it, and there was a chance he wouldn’t use it. But at least she wouldn’t run the risk of upsetting him by making him believe his preferences were the same as his brother’s.

In some ways, the gift seemed particularly timely: a winter storm raged outside the tower, with howling winter winds and heavy snow that made sitting in the living room feel like they were inside a snowglobe. Even with the heat on and the fire roaring in the hearth, everyone bundled up in sweaters and plush blankets, sipping on mugs of cocoa and tea in between opening gifts. 

On the fourth night, Loki’s turn to open his gift came even earlier. Similar to the first three nights, he inspected the box - small, slender, almost like a fancy box for a fountain pen. 

After making quick work of the wrapping paper, he glanced at the lid of the box:

“Museum of Modern Art Design Store,” he read, then shrugged and removed the lid of the box.

Nestled among chic black packing material sat a stainless steel tea infuser. Its design was what drew Theo to the gift - long, slender, with a hook on the top for easy removal, it looked downright elegant. And with the amount of tea Loki drank, an upgrade to his usual steeping methods seemed like the perfect sort of gift - thoughtful and useful.

Loki hummed, carefully slipping the tea infuser out of its packaging and inspecting it. The stainless steel glowed beneath the Christmas lights and reflected the smile curling over Loki’s face. He twisted the cap off, then closed it again, nodding to himself as he set it aside and opened the card. Like the first three days, he read the message to the group:

“A tea infuser that combines form and function?! It’s almost as stylish as you are (almost)! As the resident tea expert on the team, it seemed only appropriate to give you something for making your favorite (non-alcoholic) drink - after all, you’ve brought me, your Secret Santa, more than a few drinks over the course of knowing each other!”

The hint, in Theo’s opinion, was almost painfully obvious; Loki brought Theo drinks all the time. Coffee at the hospital when he knew she had a long day. Whiskey or wine when she needed to unwind. Tea when it was late and neither of them could fall asleep. Water when Theo just used her inhaler and needed to rinse out her mouth. Throughout the entire time she had been an Avenger, Theo never saw Loki bring anyone else drinks quite so often - not Thor, not Wanda, not anyone. However, the clue made so much sense, and there was only one more day, so it wasn’t like she had to keep the secret for much longer. 

What Theo didn’t account for, however, was almost every other person in the room making the connection between the clue and the identity of Loki’s Secret Santa. Over a dozen pairs of eyes all trained in on Theo as Loki glanced down to set the card and gift aside; the heat of their stares nearly made Theo lose her composure.

When Steve asked if Loki knew who his Secret Santa was, he simply smirked and replied “I’ve my suspicions, but I find I rather enjoy the suspense and anticipation of the grand reveal.”

Somehow, she held it together, but just barely. Sure, Theo was grateful that Loki seemed to enjoy the gifts up to that point, but “suspense and anticipation of the grand reveal?” If Theo was under pressure before, now she was on the verge of being crushed under the weight of expectation, and the whole damn team knew it.

Theo shot a terrified look at Wanda, who only sent back an impish grin.

Shit.

One more day to go.

—

The final day of Secret Santa arrived, and with it, the grand reveal. Apprehension loomed over Theo’s head like a storm-cloud; after all, the pressure was on - not only to give the perfect gifts, but to set up the perfect reveal as Loki’s secret Santa.

Despite the overall success of the first four days, by the time the last exchange began, Theo was too nervous to sit down. Instead, she leaned against the kitchen island with her mug of hot chocolate and whiskey clutched in both hands, offering little more than one-word answers whenever someone tried to ask her something. The only time she even considered sitting down was when Loki asked if she would join him on the couch, but then all the potential ways she might make a fool of herself flooded her thoughts and she politely declined, claiming that she needed to stretch her legs a bit.

If Theo didn’t know better, Loki seemed disappointed that she didn’t want to sit by him, but it was probably her mind playing tricks on her; after all, Theo was the one with the crush, not Loki.

At least from across the room, Theo could easily admire Loki in his thick, fair isle sweater - seasonally appropriate, of course, but like all of his attire, it fit him perfectly and highlighted his long, lithe form in all the right ways. Between her nerves about the gift and how distractingly handsome Loki was, she barely noticed when the first two Avengers opened their gifts and found out who was assigned as their Secret Santa.

For the final night of the exchange, Loki was the third person to open his gifts.

While Loki focused on the large box in front of him, everyone else stared at Theo. If she could have, she would have melted into the floor; instead, she stood by the kitchen island with her mug of hot chocolate and whiskey in both hands, shooting dirty looks at the rest of the group so they wouldn’t give her away.

… Not like Loki hadn’t already figured out that Theo was his Secret Santa, because he likely knew. If he didn’t know, he was about to figure it out, but that was beside the point. 

Of all the gifts Theo chose, today’s were the most nerve-wracking because they were the most personal: the pre-reveal gift referenced something Loki gave her when she ended up in the hospital with an asthma exacerbation and pneumonia a few months prior. The post-reveal gift referenced the time all the Avengers visited New Asgard, and Loki took her on a late-night walking tour of the community.  

The note on the card was, well, maybe a bit too sentimental - in hindsight, maybe she should have saved the message for a later card that she could have given him in private. But by that point the card was taped to the box in Loki’s lap, and Theo couldn’t do a damn thing about it, other than brace herself for the inevitable fallout. 

At least she had the sense to write a disclaimer at the top of the note: “You might want to read this to yourself first, then decide if you want to read it out loud.”

After four days, Loki’s examination of the gift box had become a routine: turn it all around, lift it up in the air, give it a shake - and once he seemed satisfied, he peeled away the wrapping paper. 

“Well, I do not have any guesses as to what is inside this box, so I suppose I ought to open it.” Loki remarked, tugging away the last bit of wrapping paper. He conjured a dagger to cut the tape sealing the flaps at the top of the box, though he was careful not to cut deeply and risk damaging the contents inside (which was good, because that dagger would have sliced through the gift like hot butter). 

Unlike the previous days, where he immediately looked inside the container, this time he made a show of looking at the others as he reached inside. Theo watched Loki’s arm muscles tense through the wool of his sweater as he grabbed the gift, while his brows furrowed with confusion.

As he turned back toward the box, he slowly pulled out the present: a snake squishmallow, in green, of course - after all, green was his color.

“That’s cute!” Natasha commented, though Loki didn’t seem to notice. He held the plush toy in both hands, turning it side to side as he gave it a once-over. Theo swore she could spot the gears turning in Loki’s head as he tried to make the connection between the toy and his Secret Santa. 

“Yeah, but why? I don’t see the connection.” Yelena added, pointing at the card. “Open the card. I want to know what it says.”

Loki slowly set aside the snake, as if still thinking about the gift, and pulled out the note. 

Theo watched as Loki methodically scanned the note. At first, he read with heavy brows drawn tightly together; after a few moments, the light from the christmas tree reflected off his sea glass eyes, glittery and shining amidst the soft glow. A shaky, small smile grew as he made his way through the message until it practically took over his face.

“Well, what does it say?” Natasha asked, craning her neck to try and read what was written on the card.

Loki, however, ignored her. Without warning, he closed the card and rose to his feet. In a couple of long strides, he stood before Theo, who could no longer bite back her nervous smile as he drew near. 

Theo barely had a chance to set down her mug before Loki scooped her into his arms and crushed her in an embrace, the strength of which forced a small “oof!” out of Theo from the impact. She didn’t waste a moment before returning the embrace, selfishly nuzzling into his chest and drinking in the scent of cologne on his sweater - cedar, bergamot, and smoke - as they stood, arms wrapped around each other and swaying gently from side to side. 

Loki leaned down, his nose brushing gently along Theo’s hair, then drew a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “Truly. Thank you.”

Theo’s heart damn near exploded. 

“Elsa, I really hope that Rapunzel’s your Secret Santa,” Tony, ever the troll, interrupted, “or this is going to get awkward.”

“Yeah, Tony, it’s me.” Theo laughed, her mind reeling as Loki shifted -  if Theo’s mind didn’t deceive her, his lips brushed against the crown of her hair. Still, he hadn’t let go, and as long as Loki held on, Theo had no plans of going anywhere.

“Now I wanna know what she wrote on that damn note,” Sam complained between shoving handfuls of caramel corn in his mouth. “Because damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Loki react like that.”

“Can we let him open the other gift first?” Theo asked, still hugging Loki as she looked over at Sam. “After all, there is a part of the message that won’t make sense without seeing the final gift.

“Fine, but afterwards I wanna read the damn note.” Sam grumbled and leaned back in his seat while Bucky leaned over and snatched some caramel corn from him. 

Theo begrudgingly pulled away from Loki, silently lamenting the lack of warmth that came with his touch. She rounded the Christmas tree and crouched down to where she hid the final box - a thin, rectangular box that was a bit larger than a poster - and brought it over to Loki, who had returned to his original seat. Theo sat down beside him, nervous but excited to see how he reacted to the last gift.

This time, Loki didn’t spend a moment examining the package - he went straight to tearing off the wrapping paper. With paper crumpled up and tossed aside, he carefully slid the lid off the box.

Centered on a bed of white tissue paper, was a painting - a canvas covered in thousands of small dashes of paint, the result of more than a few sleepless nights as Theo raced to finish the painting on a tight deadline. During the day, Theo hid it beneath a stack of other canvases so if Loki stopped by her suite, he wouldn’t notice; the moment night fell, Theo was elbows deep in oil paint as she added layer after layer of color.

“It’s New Asgard!” Thor exclaimed as he peered over Loki’s shoulder.

“Those are the gardens…” Loki breathed, one hand hovering over the canvas as if he wanted to touch it and prove to himself that it was real. 

“The gardens that you created, and that your people and countless tourists adore.” Theo added, her cheeks slightly pink. 

Loki’s focus went to the bottom corner, where Theo scrawled her name. It was tiny and borderline illegible because of the paint, but if someone had ever seen her handwriting, they would know instantly who it was. Loki traced his fingers over the letters almost meditatively.

“You made this?” When Loki looked up at Theo, she caught the slightest shine in the corners of his eyes, though his expression was nothing but pure awe. “Was this from memory?”

“God, my memory isn’t that good - I mean, yeah I painted it, but it wasn’t from memory,” Theo rubbed the back of her next, heat rising on her cheeks as Loki continued to gape at her. “I got Val to send me some pictures for reference, and then I worked on it every night after everyone was asleep. I wasn’t sure it would be done in time, if I’m honest, because oil paint takes forever to dry, but it dried just in time. The paint is still going to need some time to fully cure, so I’d be gentle with it.”

For the second time in minutes, Loki pulled Theo into another heartfelt embrace. 

“I am… I am speechless. I’ve no words, truly.” He laughed, a rumbling sound that Theo felt as much as she heard it. “Thank you.”

“Okay now we need to know what the hell was on that card.” This time it was Shuri, who looked like she was one step away from snatching the card and reading it out loud herself.

Loki unfurled his arms from around Theo so he could set the painting on the table in front of them, then retrieved the card.

“I think you ought to read it,” Loki held the card out to Theo, his cheeks now flushed with crimson. “I imagine it will sound better in your voice, since you wrote the message.”

Theo rolled her eyes, but accepted the card. She got the sense that Loki felt a bit sentimental himself, and was probably a bit out of his comfort zone; re-reading the message aloud might be more than he thought he could handle. So, despite her heart still fluttering like a goddamn school girl, Theo tried her best to steady her breathing, then cleared her throat and began:

One of Thor’s favorite stories to tell is when you were children and turned into a snake to trick him. One of my favorite things is watching the little smile you get every time he tells the story, like you know you shouldn’t think it’s funny and it makes the story even funnier. I bet you’re making that same smile right now as you think about the story!

This clue will probably give me away, but you once gave me a gift much like this - a plush toy of an unexpected creature, because you realized that the creature shared a connection to my sister. You didn’t make a big deal out of it - telling me you “happened to pass by a shop window and it just seemed like something I would like,” but it meant the world to me; to this day, it is easily the best gift I’ve ever received. 

In many ways, that gift is such a great example of why I am so lucky to have you as a friend - you are so incredibly thoughtful and kind, and when you sense that someone is having a tough time you go above and beyond to help, all without making a big deal about it… God knows you did that for me constantly when I first got here! There are, obviously, other reasons that you’re an amazing friend (your sense of humor, intelligence, and patience in putting up with me are also high on the list). 

I know none of my Secret Santa gifts have been big or flashy so far, and your final gift isn’t exactly big or flashy either. If I’m honest, I panicked when I drew your name because, well, what do you get someone who could have any gift they wanted? But the more I thought about it, the more I came back to just how lucky I was to have the gift of your friendship (yeah, corny as fuck, sorry - you’re the silvertongue, not me!). I can’t ever give you a gift that would compare, but I can at least make sure you know just how grateful I am for you and how much of a difference you make. Without a doubt, my life is better because you’re in it, as are the lives of many others. 

So, for your final gift, I made you something that I hope will remind you of not just the impact you’ve made on me, but the impact you’ve made on countless others, every time you see it. 

Merry Christmas Loki. 

Yours,

Secret Santa. 

P.S. I hope you can forgive my sentiment. Not all of us can be as cool as you.”

By the time Theo finished reading the message aloud, her entire body felt like it was on fire from the combination of her nerves and the others’ burning stares. With trembling hands, Theo slowly closed the card and set it on her lap, eyes focused downward the entire time.

“I didn’t realize it was possible to win at Secret Santa… ” Peter finally broke the silence, beaming as he looked at the pair. “... But I think Theo just won Secret Santa.”  

“I think everyone’s going to want you as their Secret Santa next year,” Steve chuckled, nodding along. “Still, we aren’t done with this year’s Secret Santa - I believe Wanda, you’re up next?”

With that, the attention shifted away from the two sorcerers sitting side-by-side on the couch, and onto the rest of the festivities. While Wanda made a scene trying to deduce clues about her gift, Loki casually slipped his hand over to Theo, interlacing his fingers with hers. In turn, Theo leaned her head on Loki’s shoulder and settled into his side.

By that point, she was only-half watching as Wanda opened one last gift. Frankly, Theo hadn’t heard who Wanda’s Secret Santa was, but she wasn’t that interested. 

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” Theo whispered, giving Loki’s hand a squeeze.

“Merry Christmas, Theo,” he murmured, turning so his lips brushed Theo’s temple. “I think this might be the first year that I’ve understood why one might enjoy Midgardians’ holiday festivities.”

Cozily tucked into Loki’s side, amidst the golden glow of the holiday lights and the spirited laughter of friends, Theo had to agree: maybe the holidays weren’t so bad after all.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Sweet Little Killer

Ghoulcy | Cooper x Lucy | post S1 | touchstarved | hurt\comfort | angst | sometimes he's an asshole | there was only one bed | overprotective and jealous Ghoul | eventual smut

Those big eyes, Cooper thought, his anger rising. Those big eyes of hers were glistening with tears, and twice as pretty for it. He wondered if she knew the effect she had on men with those soulful eyes of hers. If she did, she was damn well making those tears brim on her dark lashes on purpose, trying to wrap his withered heart around her pretty little finger.

As Ghoul and Lucy journey across the wastes to New Vegas both of them learn a helluva lot more about each other, and circumstances and mutual attraction drive them into each other's arms.

Start with Chapter One

CHAPTER THREE

The ghoul shouldered into the washroom with his thumbs tucked into his belt. A moment later he came out holding a skinny, grey-haired man by the scruff of his vest and shoved him down the corridor.

‘But I haven’t finished my bath,’ the old man protested, clutching his scrubbing brush on a stick against his chest.

‘Come back later,’ the ghoul told him.

‘I’m so sorry. He wouldn’t listen. I’ll only be a minute,’ Lucy called after the poor old man.

‘Go on, vaultie.’ He jerked his head at the door. The ghoul had refused to allow her to be alone in the communal washroom unless he was with her or he cleared it out and stood guard by the door.

‘You didn’t have to kick that old man out,’ she scolded him, entering the empty washroom. There were several hip baths scattered around, and a shower in the corner.

‘The alternative is me standing over you while you bathe,’ he called after her as the door swung closed, ‘so I’m being mighty reasonable.’

This was the ghoul, being reasonable. Lucy turned on the shower and was pleasantly surprised by the clean, warmish water. The tiles were cracked and moldy, but this bathroom was luxurious compared to the rest of her existence on the surface.

‘You all right in there, vaultie?’ the ghoul called through the door.

‘yOu aLL riGhT iN tHeRE, vaULtiE?’ she mocked under her breath, soaping her hair.

‘Vaultie!’ he barked. ‘I’m coming in.’

‘I’m fine ,’ she hollered back. ‘Don’t come in.’ How could the man go from forcing her to fight Radscorpions all day to practically not allowing her to breathe without his permission? Because the man was an asshole, that’s why.

A different thought occurred to her that cooled her temper. Just what was another bounty hunter going to do to her that was worse than Radscorpions?

Probably best not to think about.

Lucy emerged a few minutes later, clean, but annoyed with the ghoul. ‘Are you going to tell me why you’re being so jumpy?’

He flashed her a glare that told her that he was less in the mood for talking now than he ever had been.

As they passed the bar on the way to their rooms, the ghoul dug in his pocket and slammed a key on a battered keyring onto the counter. 

‘We only need one room.’

Lucy took a deep, angry breath, preparing to holler at him. It was only the last-minute memory that she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself that made her whisper-shout instead. ‘One room? I can’t even sleep by myself?’

Predictably, the ghoul took her wordlessly by the elbow and steered her away.

When he unlocked the door to what was now their room, there was only one bed. Lucy sighed heavily. Of course. A double, but it was a small one. If he lay down, the ghoul’s feet would be hanging off the edge.

‘I hope you enjoy sleeping in the chair,’ she told him sweetly, gesturing at the hard wooden chair in the corner. ‘If that doesn’t suit you, I hear there’s another room available somewhere else.’

‘Chair’s fine by me,’ he muttered, sitting down and folding his arms. He stretched his long legs out and crossed them at the ankle, taking up almost all the room in the small space.

Through the grimy window, Lucy could see that it was already dark outside, and the room was chilly. She dove into bed beneath the one blanket, and took off her bra and pants under the covers. Her hair was damp, and she shivered as the bed slowly, slowly warmed up.

Muffled coughing woke her from slumber sometime later. For a moment she didn’t know where she was, and then she saw the outline of the ghoul in his chair in the darkened room. He had a fist to his lips as he fumbled inside his duster for his inhaler. His coughs grew desperate and wracking before he managed to hold the inhaler to his lips and take his medication.

The ghoul lowered his head once more with his arms folded tightly across his chest.  

As Lucy exhaled, she saw her breath. The room was freezing and the ghoul…well he wasn’t sick, but he was suffering.

Lucy got out of bed and padded toward the door.

The ghoul lifted his booted foot and placed it on the wall, blocking her way. In a gravelly voice he asked, ‘Where do you think you’re goin’?’

‘I was just going to find you a blank—’

‘Get back to bed.’ The ghoul coughed again.

‘But—'

‘Bed.’

She stood shivering in front of him. This wasn’t right. ‘Your lungs don’t like the cold, do they?’

The ghoul answered with a surly cough. He looked up at her, his eyes traveling from her bare feet, up her bare legs in just briefs, to her pebbled nipples in her tank top, and finally to her face.

She reached for his hand, coaxing him to stand up. ‘Come on. Just for a minute until you warm up.’

His dark eyes glittered in the darkness. He slowly got to his feet, shrugged out of his duster, lay his hat on the chair, and pulled off his boots.

Lucy got back into bed and scooted over to make space for him. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She’d never slept in the same bed as a man before. It had always sounded so nice. If you wanted a cuddle, there was a warm, loving body right there.

‘Just until I warm up,’ he said, getting under the blanket. The bed creaked as he lay down. Lucy moved closer and was surprised to feel heat radiating from him even though he was shivering. Ghouls must run hot.

Slowly, his body relaxed, and his eyes drifted closed. He fell asleep, which was what Lucy had hoped would happen. She drank in his face as he slept. As ravaged by radiation as he was, the ghoul was handsome. Full lips and high cheekbones. A strong body. She’d been roughly manhandled by him, but what would it feel like if he was holding her?

Lucy rolled onto her side and scooted back against him, wiggling her ass until she made contact with as much of him as possible. He was blissfully warm. She fell asleep, pretending that this was her husband, and she was safe in bed with him.

She awoke sometime later to darkness, and with a heavy arm over her hips and wrapped around her stomach. The ghoul had awoken and pulled her closer.

‘Now you’ve done it, vaultie,’ he muttered sleepily.

Biting her lip, she nestled back into him even further, and he responded by squeezing her tight. Something hard and thick nestled into the cleft of her ass.

Lucy’s eyes opened into the darkness. ‘I thought you…’

‘You assumed I couldn’t get it up because I didn’t want one of the working girls? Real nice of you. Ever think that I’m just picky, sweetheart?’ His breath was hot on the side of her neck.

This was new information.

New, interesting information.

‘Is there anyone?’ she whispered.

Heavy silence. ‘Not in this world. Not anymore.’

Before the bombs, then. ‘You remember her?’

He sighed. ‘Shit, can we change the subject? I was enjoying myself just now.’

She turned slowly in his arms, keeping herself pressed tightly against him. ‘You remember your name, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ he finally admitted. ‘But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to tell you what it is.’

‘Please,’ she implored him. ‘Please tell me.’

The ghoul opened his eyes. They were nose to nose cavity in the darkness. Her hands were against his chest. His bare hands were ever so slowly kneading her hips.

‘It’s Cooper,’ he finally said.

She smiled. ‘Cooper. It suits you.’

‘Not anymore it doesn’t, and I’m getting up.’

Cooper tried half-heartedly to get out of bed, but she clenched her hands on his shirt. ‘Please don’t. This is the most comfortable I’ve been since coming to the surface.’

He gazed at her lips. She eased her hips closer to him, needing to feel his erection against her sensitive flesh.

‘You’re gonna need a dose of RadAway if you don’t stop doing that.’

‘Then I’ll take RadAway. This sure feels nice, doesn’t it?’ She lifted her hand and touched his face.

He closed his eyes as her fingers stroked his cheek. ‘No, vaultie,’ he lied.

‘What were you like before this world?’

‘Naïve.’

She smiled ruefully. ‘Me, too. I’m trying not to be so stupid anymore.’

‘Me, too.’

‘How’s that working out for us, do you think?’ she whispered. 

He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with parted lips. She moaned softly, and when his tongue slid against hers, she opened her mouth wider for him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed her breasts against his chest. From the way she was arching her back, this girl was turned on. By him. A ghoul. Was this vaultie so sheltered she just didn’t know any better?

Cooper broke the kiss. ‘Does that feel good to you? I don’t know what this body feels like to anyone else.’

‘So good, Cooper,’ she whispered breathlessly. ‘What feels good to you?’

He drank in her beautiful face. ‘Anything you do, darlin’. You nearly made my heart quit beating when you touched my shoulders and compared me to my wanted poster. I’m—not used to this.’

Fuck. That’s too vulnerable. He needed to shut the hell up.

She reached down between them and pushed her hand up beneath his shirt. ‘This heart?’ Sensation exploded across his chest.

‘Mmm,’ he says, dragging a ragged breath into his lungs.

‘You feel so good, Cooper. Warm and strong.’

He was drowning in her soft, sweet adoration. It was so much. Too much.

With a groan, he rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him as he devoured her mouth. He had no right to get his hands all over the prettiest, sweetest woman for thousands of miles around, possibly anywhere, but he was going to be selfish and do it anyway. His cock was harder than ever and he thrust it against her pussy through the thin fabric of her underwear. Lucy moaned. The sound of her made him crazy, and he slid against her again and again, both of them delighting in the friction.

He pushed her tank up and saw that she’d taken off her bra before bed. When he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth and grazed it with his teeth, she gasped and hitched her knee up to his hip, inviting more.

Pulling her briefs to one side, he slid two fingers across her sex, and discovered so much slippery wetness.

‘This for me, darlin’?’ he asked, admiring the wetness on his fingers.

She bit her lip and nodded, and then cried out as he sank his middle finger into her up to the third knuckle.

Mine, he thought, clenching his teeth on her shoulder right by her neck, and circling her clit with his thumb. Lucy moaned louder. 

He added a second finger, and that really made her yelp and clutch at him. He wasn’t trying to make her come yet. He just wanted to explore her, watch her, listen to her, as he pumped his fingers slowly in and out of her. The sweet grip of her on his fingers was making him ache to be inside her. He probably shouldn’t. He probably should make sure they had some RadAway before they did that, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull out of her once his cock was hammering into her and his orgasm was barrelling down on him. No way he had that kind of self-control around her, and he would end up filling her with radioactive cum.

Unsteadily, she pulled at his belt while he kept thrusting with his fingers, and it made him smile at how clumsy he was making her.

When her hand wrapped around his cock, it was his turn to lose focus. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the sight of her touching him. There were radiation scars even on his cock, but she didn’t seem to care, her slender fingers caressing his girth.

‘You’re so thick, Cooper,’ she whispered as he thrust into her hand.

‘Fuck, stop saying my name,’ he panted.

‘Why?’

‘It’s too much, vaultie.’ He could feel his heart softening. All the protective anger he carried around was melting away. If he didn’t stay angry, he would die. Chems and anger were all that were holding his ruined body together.

‘Lucy,’ she corrected him with a caress and a smile. ‘Call me Lucy. And I want to say your name. I love your name.’

The sunshine was going to burn him alive, and it wasn’t even daylight yet.

They continued to caress each other, focusing on whatever made the other one breathe harder and moan. She came first, her thighs squeezing his hips and her pussy squeezing his fingers in a death grip. The sight of her head thrown back in pleasure was enough to make him lose it. He cupped his hand around his cock as he came, making sure he didn’t splash her with any of his cum.

After, they lay wrapped around each other with their legs tangled together. Lucy was asleep, but Cooper's mind was racing. The clarity you experience after you climax, he’d once heard it called.  

What about your man ? he wanted to ask her. That Knight in a tin can. If she wasn’t going to think about the canned Knight or talk about him, then Cooper wouldn’t either.

Cooper’s arms tightened around her. I don’t want him to have you.

He gritted his teeth, wondering what the hell he was doing, being possessive over a woman. He’d only ever felt this strongly about a woman once before in his life, and it had all but destroyed him.

Hope hadn’t been part of his life since the bombs fell and he’d lost everything. It was probably best if he and Lucy never talked about what had just happened between them. As much as it hurt him, they probably shouldn’t touch each other again either, and focus on getting to New Vegas.

With her pretty hand lying against his heart and her semi-naked body tight in his arms, Cooper knew he was in the danger zone. 

-

I just finished playing Fallout 3 and I loved it! These games have been on my list for ages but the show bumped them to the top. I started New Vegas and I'm having so much fun imagining what Cooper and Lucy are going to do there in S2. Thank you for reading!

Read Chapter Four here.

[greed-the-dorkalicious]

All the discussion around AI lately got me thinking about an incident recently in which a guy got his ass sorely beat by the vocal synth community

For those of you not familiar, “vocal synths” in the electronic music sense typically refers to programs like Vocaloid, SynthV, UTAU, Alter/Ego, DeepVocal, etc., digital instruments that allow composers to create, as the name implies, synthesized vocal tracks. The way they work is that they draw from libraries (referred to as “voicebanks” or VB for short) of special studio recorded* vocal samples from singers singing different syllables at a consistent pitch. The program then splices these together and adjusts the pitch to match whatever notes you put in- You want to do All Star, it’s gonna string together “[suh][m] [buh][di] [wuh][n][s] [tO][ld] [mi]” or something like that. Basically it’s an extremely complicated sampler.

(*unless you’re using UTAU or another build-your-own-vocal program in which the “studio” is only metaphorical, and is sometimes somebody’s basement with a Rockband mic plugged into a laptop.)

Now, there is no threat of vocal synths putting actual singers out of a job. Even the best vocal synths always have a bit of a robotic sound to them, and the voicebanks take hundreds of hours of recording time from you know, actual singers. Any piece made with vocal synths has to be worked by a human hand in a process called “tuning” in order to sound any good, whether you’re trying to make it sound human or leaning into the robotic sound. This isn’t something that’s being done on a corporate scale to cut costs- This is something pretty much exclusively being done by small scale indie music hobbyists because we fucking love Hatsune Miku and her weird buddies. Most folks are less interested in doing something that sounds 1:1 like a human voice and more in going beyond what humans can do to make shit like this

One of the leading vocal synths right now is Synthesizer V (SynthV), created by a company called Dreamtonics. SynthV offers fancier versions of some of its voicebanks, which are called “AI” voicebanks. These use machine learning trained on, again, professionally recorded and legally licensed vocal samples to help make songs sound a little bit more smooth, a little bit more in line with whatever singing style you’re aiming for. Everything else previously mentioned still applies: They’re still painstakingly recorded and programmed, you still need to tweak it yourself to get it to sound just right, and it’s still never going to sound 100% like a human. And that’s fine!

For this next bit y’all are gonna have to trust me because the tweets all got deleted, though if anyone wants I’m happy to pull up screencaps of talking shit about it with other vocal synth folks when it happened lmfao

So basically. Since ChatGPT type grifters have convinced people that “AI” means “magic plagiarism button”, back in April some dipshit NFT guy on Twitter started complaining on an official SynthV update post that SynthV (which he apparently believed to be called “Dreamtonics”, the name of the company that makes it) should allow people to make voicebanks from “their own voice”, insisting that it would be easy and PROFITABLE!™ to do so. He also clearly did not actually mean “their own voice” but rather “the voices of celebrity singers shamelessly lifted without their consent”, which was made extra obvious from a tweet on his own page that was like “Teehee people in monitored Twitter spaces don’t realize their voices are being recorded and fed into AI!” which he then deleted after I linked it on the thread about SynthV. lol.

Dude proceeded to get whupped by actual vocal synth people basically saying shit along the lines of “Yeah we can all tell you just want to commit cheap plagiarism, jackass” and “Dude why are you here when you clearly don’t understand the very very basics of what this software even is” and “Go make an UTAU voicebank if it’s so easy then”. (UTAU being a Japanese freeware program that hasn’t been updated since 2013. Creating an UTAU voicebank is complicated and takes a lot of time and technical knowledge.) He still refused to learn the basics of how vocal synths work, and proceeded to ask if “UTAU or Diff is most compatible with Dreamtonics”, a question absolutely no one could make any sense of? Lol.

Anyway, I don’t have anywhere in particular I’m going with this, I just think AI grifters are morons, and it’s obnoxious how the vague and misleading term “AI” has gotten nigh-mythologized by shady tech companies to the point that people can’t tell the difference between perfectly reasonable assistive technology and magic plagiarism.

Btw, fun fact for anyone who’s wondering, there do in fact exist legally/morally questionable UTAU voicebanks spliced from outside vocals. These are called “jinriki” voicebanks and not only do they take the same amount (if not more) of hard work as any other voicebank, they’re far from the insta-Beyoncé this dude was aiming for, and instead they sound um. like this

[stromuprisahat]

If Zoya is so stupid and useless, why was she chosen as one of the Darkling's main people?

Where?

Because in books, she was strong, yet ordinary Squaller. Perhaps promising, but hardly highly ranking, no matter what she likes to believe.

“You look amazing, Zoya! How are you?” gushed Marie. “We missed you so much!” squealed Nadia. “I missed you, too,” Zoya said. “It’s so good to be back at the Little Palace. You can’t imagine how busy the Darkling’s kept me. But I’m being rude. I don’t think I’ve met your friend.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 11

What stings, is that everyone knows it. It shows, when Zoya attacks Alina. If she were SOMEONE by herself, wouldn't at least one person note that?

to Ivan “... Please tell me you were there when he [the Darkling] told Zoya she’d be leaving Os Alta.” “I was.” “And?” I urge as we head down the hill to the birch grove. I’m a greedy thing, but how can I be expected to resist this gossip? Ivan shrugs, scowling. “He just made it clear that she’s replaceable and Starkov isn’t.”

The Tailor

Marie rolled her eyes. “She can’t bear the idea of anyone being the Darkling’s favorite.” I laughed and then winced at the stab of pain in my side. “I’m hardly his favorite.” “Of course you are. Zoya’s powerful, but she’s just another Squaller. You’re the Sun Summoner.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 11

She's rash, and to lead or bear considerable amount of responsibility, she'd need to unlearn that, start thinking about others and most importantly about impact of her (in)action. It might be why she was stationed near the Fold. I've theorised about it a few months back- it's the ideal position for her. She's (partly) answerable for the skiff and people on it, but danger comes in predictable form of volcra. It's the perfect place to learn what she's lacking.

She's barely out of school, she lacks experience- why would the Darkling give her important position, when he has hundreds of people to choose from? What's "main" about the person, who's driving a skiff?

Now where did the notion she's the Darkling's super special girl come from?

“Zoya Nazyalensky, who was one of the Darkling’s most favored soldiers.”

Yuri Vedenen; King of Scars- Chapter 9

That's an information coming from religious fanatic, several years after the Darkling's death AND merry application of current regime's propaganda.

Have you ever noticed how there's not a single mention of Ivan post-his death? We don't even know his surname. Aside from him, there's not one (1) named Grisha from his side.

It's easy to be remembered as the favourite, when you erase existence of anyone else.

Even in her memories, she's among the promising ones, yet not favoured, not hand-picked.

“... I was the youngest of the group and so proud to be chosen to go. I was half in love with him already. I lived for the rare moments he appeared at the school.” She shook her head. “I was the best, and I wanted him to see that … The older Grisha were all in contention for the amplifier. It was up to them to track the tigers and see who would earn the right to the kill. ...”

King of Scars- Chapter 27

The interest is one-sided, Zoya draws the Darkling's attention by stealing three amplifiers from other Grisha, her recklessness and short-sightedness, not her capability.

The closest we get to some sort of recognition, is in Aleksander's chapter in RoW, when he points out her deficiencies and admits some of it made her work hard.

And if Zoya ever learned to harness the power she’d been given? She was still vulnerable, still malleable. Her anger made her easy to control. When this war was done and the casualties counted, she might once more be in need of a shepherd. She had been one of his best students and soldiers, her envy and her rage driving her to train and fight harder than any of her peers. And then she’d turned on him.

Rule of Wolves- Chapter 26

I have one (rather big) objection- Zoya has never been a good soldier. She failed twice on rather important occasions- the amplifier and Alina incidents-, proving her self-control is lacking. That rage he's for some reason praising here, makes her dangerous to those peers she's trying to outdo.

But hey- he barely crawled back from the dead, his mental skills won't be at their best- why would he plan to manipulate Zoya without a single mention of Juris? The Saint isn't gonna disappear any time soon (if ever), and he's hardly Aleksander's fan.

[nerdyfan1]

Thinking about Winner Pentious again. So fuck it gonna list some things about him I’ve thought about or speculated.

First thought I kind of took from this post and idk if I really believe it but, I have a thought about it so I’m talking about it here. That being Morningstar eyes observation.

Now I’m iffy that this was actually intentional cus for preparation for this post I went through the episode in Heaven to look through all the background winners to see if is like rare. It wasn’t super common but, I did see it a lot more so I think this was just winner thing and likely a coincidence. Still it did give me the funny idea that before the fall Luci had the same eyes as winner Pentious. Ngl that probably look so cursed and I kind of like it. If that the case god that is probably a jumpscare to Sera.

Moving on let’s talk about something smaller before I jumping into a big thing I have in mind. I like that the big third eyeliner changed to making it look like little wings. It’s obvious why it looks that way and it’s not like anything super deep about this I just wanted to mention it cus nobody seems to at all and I just found it cute. Wish I knew how to draw this better.

Tho yeah I guess speaking of wings… that leads to another thing.

So he’s wingless. It’s right here when we got the shot him of him ascending guess what I’ll call it. I really like this. Both from a logical standpoint and more importantly a character standpoint.

First of all up makes sense he’d not randomly grow new appendages. Spoiler alert but, I feel like this is gonna be a trend with any other future redeemed sinners we get. Where they pretty much similar to what they once looked like in hell but, the pallets are changing to something more heavenly, visuals that reflect the reason they died (which I’ll touch on later) and maybe smaller wings. Something else I realized when looking into the background is most Winners usually have wings. The only wingless one I found when looking around was like a lobster guy. This meaning unlike the eyes this is more rare. So very interesting if less redeemed sinners will have wings. Or what I’d prefer less fancy ones. As they’ll still need to fly among the sky to survive really live up there.

Leading into this from the character perspective, I do wonder if this means Winner Pentious just can’t fly? Idk my first thought was him using his love of making machines to help him fly like this:

Or maybe a more fitting one for him, a steampunk style jet pack kind of thing? Idk something I always liked about Pentious as a character is his ability to adapt and how uses his mind to aid in leveling the playing field for himself. Besides it could lead to some great comedy to see him fly around like a nerd in his little nerd contraption. :P

So last point for the post but, my Hazbin moot mentioned this to me and I really wanted to bring this one up. So when I stated that I was making this post and asked her server about if they had any things they noticed about him that was worth mentioning here. My mate pointed out his bow tie eye changed to a heart.

Which lead to me going into us talking about the heart theme of Winner Pentious’ design. Back in hell, at least to me, he’s always read as more paranoid. He was just not exactly the most trusting person before the hotel. A lot of eyes are usually are a visual for paranoia after all and Sinner Pentious’ design did indeed have many eyes in different places. It’s a common theme throughout it actually. Now compare that to the Winner design with the overall eyes theme starts to be overtaken by a hearts.

Considering how he died to get here, to me it was designed this way intentionally cus well he spent the time at the hotel learning to finally open up his heart to others. Then died in a sacrifice out of the love he grew for the place that became his home and people there who became basically his family. Hence now he’s decorated with hearts. While still keeping a few eyes indicating that his paranoia is still lingering a little bit within him just it’s not nearly as much as he used to be. Cus stuff like that never truly leaves you but, you can still find ways to combat those feelings to live more healthily.

This lead me to start to develop a headcanon about them. If he developed those hearts on his new designs cus he learned to open his heart and let ppl in then if someone took advantage of his new founded trust or made him super upset, would those same hearts visually be shown to breaking?

Started doodling the idea out (sorry it looks kind of ass lol) to show what I mean. I know a more common fanon thing to do when drawing Winner Pentious is to give him the more stereotype angel wings but, ngl I kind of like the idea of messing around with the hearts of this design to express him emotions way more. Given how his hat in the actual show this feels so fitting haha.

Tho yeah that’s kind of all I got. Idk just wanted to dump stuff I thought about with Winner Pentious and his design. It’s such a pretty looking one btw probably my favorite in the show. Took a design I always really liked and did really cool stuff with it while keeping to the core of the original. He’s very pretty basically what I’m saying. Love him. :3

[romione-trope-fest]

Finish

Fic Title: Finish

Author Name: voldemorts-tap-shoes/smjl

Selected Trope: Weasley Weddings

Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione find time on the horcrux hunt to finish what they started at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

Word Count: 1859

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: none

***

It feels like she has packed and repacked this bag a hundred times since the start of the summer. Even with magically infinite space to bring whatever they need, Hermione has second and third and fourth guessed this book and that potion and everything in between. Sometimes she worries that the beaded bag and its contents are all she’s contributing on this mission, and she wants to get it right.

As she reaches in again, her fingers snatch onto floaty fabric that she recognizes by touch alone and after a moment’s hesitation, Hermione pulls out her dress from Bill and Fleur’s wedding, letting the chiffon unfurl toward the dark and dingy floorboards. What a perfect day that might have been if not for—well, everything. Spending the reception dancing with Ron was a bright spot in an otherwise mostly dreary day, from the Minister’s visit that morning to the uninvited guests that crashed the post-wedding party. But even that…

She thought she knew how Ron felt about her, thought that they were making strides toward something more than friendship. But even though he had snagged her away from Viktor to dance, showcasing a jealousy that reminded her of fourth year and the only other time he had seen her so dressed up, there had been nothing more. He hadn’t kissed her, he hadn’t told her how he felt. Of course, she hadn’t done those things either. There’s a war coming—it’s here, really—and what the hell are they waiting for?

Hermione tosses the dress over the back of the sofa and reaches back in for Ron’s dress robes. She’s not sure why they’re still in the bag anyway, why she hasn’t hung them up in a closet somewhere under a preservation charm to keep the dust off. Of all the things that they might or might not need hunting horcruxes, she thinks it’s fairly safe to assume that her dress and his dress robes are a do not need. But they’re also the only things they have with them that remind her of a happier time. Everything else in the bag is so…tactical.

“Hey.” Ron’s voice jolts her out of her thoughts, and he raises a quizzical eyebrow at her as he enters the room. “What are you doing?”

“Packing. Unpacking. I don’t know.” She motions to the pile of clothing draped over the sofa she’s been sleeping on every night, her fingers entwined with Ron’s. That means something, doesn’t it? “I don’t suppose we have any need for these anymore.”

“Probably not.” Ron trails his fingers down the sleeve of his robes. “It’s a shame that we didn’t really get to finish the wedding.”

Hermione shrugs. “It was a lovely ceremony. Fleur looked beautiful, and at least we made it past the cake and everything before the Death Eaters showed up.”

“Oh, er…I meant us,” Ron says, and Hermione’s breath catches in her throat. “We didn’t really get to finish the wedding.”

What is he saying? Did he have plans for them that evening? Was that going to be the night, before everything fell to pieces and they were running for their lives?

He smiles at her, that lopsided grin that’s been melting her heart since she was fourteen, and suggests with a laugh, “We could always get dressed up again, and have our own little celebration here.”

Hermione chuckles too. As much as she would love to do that—to know what exactly they didn’t finish the night of his brother’s wedding—they have more important things to focus on. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh. Yeah, alright.”

“I just meant with the mission—”

“No, no, you’re right.” Ron gives her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m gonna go see what I can round up for dinner.”

He leaves her alone in the drawing room without another word, and Hermione sighs, wondering how she always manages to say the wrong thing to him.

She gathers up the clothing, but rather than put the pieces in a closet, she folds them carefully and places them back into her beaded bag.

Maybe one day we can finish what we started.

***

Ron’s feet are heavy as he trades places with Harry, who’s about to finish out the night watch. The winter air outside is nothing compared to the frostiness inside the tent. Not that he’s surprised. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. But he and Hermione are both as stubborn as they come, and her resolve is stronger than his.

She’s barely said five words to him since he returned to the hunt, so the sight that greets him behind the tent flap hits him harder than a stunning spell: Hermione, wearing that tantalizing lilac dress from Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

Obviously, she’s gone completely round the twist.

Ron takes a step forward into what he now realizes is a suffocating heating charm on the tent, mimicking that same stuffy August evening. Before he can raise any questions, Hermione thrusts a bundle of fabric into his arms. “Put these on,” she instructs, her tone clipped as her lips set into a thin line.

“My dress robes?” Ron asks as he examines them. “Hermione, are you feeling alright?”

“Peachy,” she snaps, the only response he’s apparently going to get. After a loaded moment without further instructions, Ron takes a step toward the loo.

“Uh…okay. Be right back.”

Hermione’s request makes absolutely no sense, but he’s not really in a position right now to deny anything she asks of him. If putting on his dress robes will get her to talk to him, it seems a very minor sacrifice to make.

He puts the robes on as quickly as he can and then heads back out to the main area of the tent, where Hermione is waiting. They’re a pale echo now of themselves from that night—clothes hanging loose from months without proper nutrition, both a bit scraggly and in need of a haircut, and a shave in Ron’s case—but she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Her expression is one of grim determination, but her brown eyes are wide and bright as she looks up at him.

“You said we never got to finish the wedding,” Hermione says softly.

“You want to now?” Ron asks incredulously, shock winning the battle against common sense. He had suggested this, only sort of joking, back at Grimmauld Place and she had shut him down. The conditions now are even less ideal, and he’s flabbergasted that she’s bringing it up.

“I need to know if I’m crazy,” she answers, and though Ron has some thoughts on that at the moment, he wisely keeps them to himself, “or imagining things. I need to know what we didn’t finish that night.”

“Hermione—” She holds a hand up, silencing him instantly.

“Show me.”

Stubbornness grips them both again as they stand frozen, eyeing each other across the room, neither willing to look away. She doesn’t know what she’s asking. She doesn’t know that he had every intent of pulling her out to the back garden to tell her how he felt, to maybe finally steal a kiss, but a combination of having fun dancing and debilitating nerves at the idea of taking that step had kept him putting it off for one more song. One more glass of champagne. Until there was no more music and no more champagne, only fear and chaos, and their focus had been forcibly shifted to other things.

She doesn’t know any of that, so what does Hermione think they’re finishing?

Sod it. She’s the brightest witch of their age. Maybe she does know.

Ron crosses the room to the wireless and gives it a couple of taps with his wand until it’s playing the soft, slow song that had been the last one they heard at the wedding. He turns back to Hermione, who holds her hand out in invitation. “Come and dance?” she whispers his own words back at him, her voice shaky as her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

He takes her hand and wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her in close, and Hermione’s head settles against his chest as they barely sway to the music. Even before he left, they haven’t been this close since the wedding, and Ron never wants to let go again.

“Do you really want to finish this the way I wanted to at the wedding?” Ron asks softly as the song ends and then starts over. “You’re hardly even speaking to me, let alone—” He cuts himself off with a sigh. Despite Hermione being the one to initiate this, kissing her feels like a boundary he shouldn’t cross. 

Hermione pulls away to look up at him, but holds onto his hand. “When you left, it made me question everything I thought I knew about you. About—us.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “So yes, I want to know. I need to know. Unless—”

She stops, and Ron braces for her rejection. Maybe he should’ve just kissed her and not second-guessed himself. Hermione bites her lip anxiously and drops his hand, and his fingers dangle uselessly between them, still half-reaching for her. “Unless what you want has changed since the wedding because in that case there’s no point in pretending that—”

Whatever else she’d intended to say gets swallowed up by Ron’s lips. What he wants hasn’t changed at all, only gotten stronger, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer to show her.

Hermione melts against him, her hands finding their way into his hair, and kissing her feels like coming home. Every brush of her lips against his is a taste of forgiveness, and he drinks it in like he’s dying of thirst.

He doesn’t stop kissing her until he tastes salt, and he pulls away to find tears streaming down Hermione’s cheeks. She leaves her hands tangled in his hair to keep him close, though, and presses her forehead to his to whisper in anguish, “Why did you leave, then? If that’s what you wanted, Ron, why did you leave?”

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He never expected it to be. Ron sighs. “That’s a story for a different night, I think,” he replies, and at that Hermione does let him go with a hollow laugh.

“Of course you’re not going to tell me,” she scoffs. “Why would this change a damn thing between us?”

Ron reaches for her again, tugging at the chiffon that hugged her body like a glove four months ago but is now loose enough for him to grab an entire handful. “I just meant—not this night.” He motions to their outfits, to the purple dress and the navy robes that aren’t yet tainted with thoughts of the locket. “Let’s get changed, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Hermione trails her fingers down his lapel as she looks up at him. “Promise?”

“Yeah,” he agrees easily. All he’s wanted to do since he got back is tell her the truth; he’s just been waiting for her to want to hear it. “I promise.”

[mangora]

So I haven’t been fulfilling my obligations as resident Scike enjoyer recently and I finally have a night with no coursework due, so here’s a meta analysis post about my interpretations of Scott and Mike’s characters, primarily as told through their relationship with one another. This isn’t necessarily accurate, some of these are definitely reaches or headcanons with little basis in reality, it’s not like a serious essay; this is just for fun since I find their relationship (or I guess, my idea of their relationship) fascinating 👍

So, naturally we start with episode one, where we’re introduced to Scott and Mike as well as the other generation two characters. Scott, off the bat, is unfriendly and untrusting; even before Jo says anything, he eyes her with malcontent. Scott looks at Mike with a seemingly annoyed expression when he’s introduced next. Mike, in contrast to Scott, is smiling and taking in the view. Scott notices immediately when Zoey nudges him and stares at her arm; I don’t think this demonstrates any sort of feelings for Mike on Scott’s part, yet at least, but rather it seems to display his social awareness. He’s already trying to gauge both Mike and Zoey’s personalities and dynamic— he could also be judging them, or a mix of that and the aforementioned gauging. Regardless, Scott’s already shown to be suspicious of others.

Meanwhile, Mike’s shown to form an attachment right away, specifically to Zoey. Their very minor interaction causes him to smile and espouse that the view is beautiful, though he’s obviously regarding her. This causes him to let his guard down, along with Zoey, which leaves both susceptible to being shoved out of the way by Lightning. Take note of this, as Mike’s desire to form stable relationships becomes a hallmark of his character. The dichotomy between Scott being untrusting when he should be and Mike being trusting when he shouldn’t be will become a running theme as well.

The next time we see them both is after the intro, when Scott refuses to help Cameron and calls him a “spaz”. This is contrasted with Mike being too kind with Zoey when they should be helping Staci out of the water, which causes him to be pulled underwater by her and could have led to them both drowning. This not only aligns with our theme of trust vs lack thereof, but also Mike’s goodwill vs Scott’s lack thereof again. It seems that what Scott needs, Mike supplies to a harmful excess; however, as we will touch on later, both of these incidents with Mike only occurred when there was another person there (Zoey) who he sought to impress or bond with. Right now all of these exist in an unjoined microcosm, but once again, scenes like this repeat throughout the season. 

Another scene worth noting is Mike’s confessional directly after. Mike’s already attached himself to Zoey, admiring her kindness and immediately jumping to the idea of a relationship with her. We’ve already established that Mike wants human connection, but here we also see the added element of insecurity; he already fears rejection for his “quirk”, which we will later discover is his DID (called “Multiple Personality Disorder” in the show; I am not fucking calling it that). He doesn’t state it to the audience yet, showing that maybe he’s not as trusting with people who he can’t directly connect with; even though he probably knows that he will inevitably be outed to them, for lack of a better term. Since he’s insecure about this, and because he says he hopes his “condition doesn’t ruin anything for [him] again”, we can draw the reasonable conclusion that Mike’s probably been rejected for his DID before, whether by potential romantic interests or by his peers more generally (with the added context of season five this could also be referring to how Mal got the system sent to jail, but honestly I’m not sure if the writers planned that far in advance so we’re not really gonna talk about it). It could also be possible that one of Mike’s motives for joining the show, besides the money, was to make friends or find a partner in a new group of people who didn’t know this detail of his life, and to do that by hiding his DID. Once again, this will seem like less of a reach as we continue to see this pattern unfold; it’s good to establish now the idea that Mike is heavily concerned with interpersonal relationships and self-image so we can continue compounding on that thesis as we go on. 

Next time we see either Mike or Scott is on the beach. Staci is talking about her family and Mike is obviously ignoring her in favor of looking at Zoey. This shows that while Mike is nice, he might not view everyone as an equal opportunity for human connection; he gets attached to Zoey instantly and regards her above everyone else, quick to establish a clear-cut and intense relationship in his mind with someone he barely knows. When Zoey even implies that they could become friends, he appears overjoyed. He’s so excited, and for what? Put a pin in this. 

Our focus shifts back to Scott briefly in the team formation scene before the first challenge. Scott and Lightning smile at each other (or maybe generally? It’s unclear if Scott’s looking at him) as they’re put on the same team. His smile fades when Brick shouts “Sir, yes sir!”, but rather than looking maybe annoyed or angry, he looks uncharacteristically concerned. His smile returns when B shoves Brick, then changes to annoyance when B’s put on his team. There are two major explanations for this. The first and most likely is that Scott’s scoping out his teammates and competition; he’s happy that Lightning’s on his team because he’s not very smart, then concerned and happy again when Brick’s put on the other team because he’s loyal and physically capable, and then he’s upset that B’s on his team because B’s intelligent and looks (is?) strong/fast. However, on the other hand, Scott’s expressions seem oddly earnest, especially considering how he behaves throughout the rest of the series. Maybe he’s secretly glad that Lightning’s here because he enjoys his company. Something that really caught my eye was Scott’s concern for Brick. Brick’s obviously military (likely due to family circumstances), and in season five, we learn that Scott’s dad is ex-military. Scott might be slightly worried because he knows what the military is like, or what military parents are like. We’ll talk more about Scott’s potential home situation later, but I dunno, something about him in this scene seems weirdly tame considering how he is normally; he seems oddly worried and not about the right people, like all things considered it would be best for his plan if his team was weak but he seems constantly annoyed by the additions of people like Dakota and Sam. 

Skipping over more of Scott being annoyed at people and Mike being anxious, when the teams get their names, Mike is the first to ask about the references to chemical waste. Though he’s very likely one of many to notice this, the fact he asked first and without hesitation shows that he’s both worried and quick to observe things. He continues to appear concerned by the growling of the “monster”, but seems to hold back from showing this, staying still with a worried expression. He might be trying to keep it cool to protect his image; or, maybe he’s trying to keep others from worrying as well, considering that Cameron’s already freaking out. When it gets closer, he holds Zoey in his arms. He has an urge to protect those he cares about, even if he has little reason to care about them yet. 

Later, during the actual challenge, while Jo and Anne Maria are outwardly annoyed by Brick, Mike tries to politely state that this isn’t working. This is the point at which Chester fronts; we learn later that Chester most commonly fronts to deal with frustrating situations. Mike himself cannot express frustration for whatever reason, likely because he’s afraid to. Meanwhile, Scott does his first confessional, where he states that he has a plan that’s sure to take down B (and implied to take down everyone else as well). Scott’s overly confident and expresses frustration with the gleeful notion that all will be handled eventually. Shortly after, Scott smiles as he and the other Toxic Rats overtake the Mutant Maggots; this is odd, as we will later find out that Scott wants his team to lose. This could be an example of him trying not to play his cards too early, but later it becomes apparent that Scott’s quick to snap when he’s upset. Was he perhaps earnestly excited to win as a team and had trouble masking that as well? Perchance (I can just say perchance, because it’s my meta post, and I do what I want). 

It’s worth mentioning now that we’ve covered episode one that Mike and Scott have somewhat inconsistent characterizations; as the series goes on, Mike is more prone to show annoyance or outbursts of fear, while Scott rarely shows genuine happiness when his plans aren’t working out. This could be a result of changing writers, a lack of ideas for one or both of them, or simply them changing and adapting to the game. Make of that what you will; I’ll try to explain things to the best of my ability and puzzle them together in a cohesive analysis, but shit’s a bit wonky. 

In episode two, we finally hear Scott’s plan: he’s intent on making his team lose the challenges to “lull the other team into a false sense of security, then pick them off one by one”. This is an interesting concept, considering how fucking stupid it is: if Scott loses most or all of his team and the Maggots continue working together, that security will become real, they will dominate him and any allies he might form (which he does not seem intent to do), and he will lose near immediately unless he’s already planning on how to split them up, assuming any of them would fall for his tricks. However, Scott himself is a little dumb, so this is fitting. He’s so unwilling to work with other people that he seems to have tricked himself into thinking that he can do anything by himself and manipulate people with no outside help. This is unrealistic, and gives the viewer a perfect insight into Scott’s antisocial and bleak worldview. He’s so unwilling to trust people that he hasn’t even figured out how to fake a relationship with any of them for his own benefit. 

In the scene where the teams are walking to the Bay of Dismay, Zoey and Mike have their first proper conversation, and it is approximately thirteen seconds long. Zoey brings up Total Warriors Two, and Mike is pleased that she knows about it. He states that if she likes kickboxing as well, he might have to marry her. First of all, film-enjoyer and kickboxer Mike real as fuck; but more importantly, this is another example of Mike attaching himself to Zoey incredibly quickly and incredibly closely. He’s desperate to be liked by her, desperate to be inseparable from her even. Unlike Scott who’s pushing everyone away without a plan, he’s seemingly nudging closer to someone without a plan or a concern for her actual, well, personality. I don’t think this is manipulative or weird at all, to be clear; and Zoey was likely trying to relate to him because he also clearly enjoys his company. It’s just endlessly intriguing how he’s already endeared herself to her. 

Once the game actually begins and the Maggots are asked which one of them wet their pants, Mike’s the one to pipe up with surprise, almost making fun of the person in question. Knowing that Mike’s afraid of his own secrets being revealed in this challenge, this clues us in that, while Mike might not have bad intentions, he does partake in judging (and depending on how you interpret his words, shaming) people for their own secrets. He might, to a degree, lack social knowledge (“this might make the person uncomfortable” etc.), empathy, or both. In this right, he’s somewhat selfish. Throughout the season, actually, he continues to show inklings of selfishness, even if they aren’t born out of malice. 

After this, the Rats are dunked into the water. Scott’s bitten and dragged out of the stands by Fang, and his team does nothing to rescue him. This upsets Scott, who then refuses to do the rest of the challenge. While this might be part of his plan to lose, it seems that Scott was genuinely upset and offended; he expected his team to help him when he would never do the same for them. More selfishness. Anne Maria seconds Scott, and Mike’s quick to join her since he’s worried about his own secrets being discovered— something that he insists to them isn’t true. I don’t have to explain this, I don’t think; Mike and Scott are alike in their selfish desires for preservation. The thing is that Mike backs down after Jo becomes upset with him, while Scott carries on. So Mike does care about avoiding conflict and being invulnerable to his whole team, but with Zoey specifically, he needs to be liked; not just regarded with neutrality, which appears to be his goal with other people; and he is afraid of being judged, or seen in a negative light.

During the challenge, Scott attempts sabotage for the first time, which fails. He tries to keep the rat from B, and is outwardly antagonistic towards him, which could have easily been used against him. This is another action that Scott seems to take strategically, but barely considers the consequences of. He just needs to be mean, apparently; he can’t control the urge to sabotage or insult, even when it would hurt him.

In the same challenge, Cameron catches Svetlana fronting, and asks Mike about it, which he denies entirely. The Maggots win, which Scott, again, seems genuinely upset about. This is where I’m laying out my theory officially that Scott takes these losses personally but is convincing himself that they’re sacrifices, rather than him genuinely not caring because it’s part of his plan. Maybe he knows that he could be on the chopping block every time and is bracing himself; maybe he enjoys winning each individual challenge for a sense of glory but won’t admit it to himself because it doesn’t work with this bullshit Lone Wolf plan he has. Either way, this brings us to episode three.

In episode three, Sam flings his breakfast into Scott’s face. Instead of pretending it’s okay, Scott throws a spoon at Sam. He then calls him a wimp for complaining about his food. Aside from this being another example of Scott being unable to mask his feelings for the greater good, this leads into the point of Scott’s home life. Total Drama as a series is full of bits that are normal in its cartoon universe, but are disturbing or terrifying taken in a real-world context; look no further than the season’s baseline concept of “we put teenagers on a nuclear island”. Scott living on a dirt farm is one of these things; having to eat dirt is bad in a literal context, and worse when adding the idea of it being a metaphor for not having food to eat. Scott is, quite literally, dirt poor; we’ll talk more about his audition tape later, but in it, we also see that Scott’s house is infested with rats and in a state of complete disarray. In season five, we learn that his father is ex-military and his mother’s a waitress; and since they own a farm, they did or do have two jobs. Scott’s also generally a country boy stereotype, and country folk aren’t exactly known for being well-off. We can almost guarantee that he grew up in a rough economic situation, and has ways of coping with or appreciating it while still working fervently to escape it. Take that for what you will.

Following this scene, Mike admits to the audience that he has DID with a shameful tone. He rushes to explain that he tries to control his alters, as if he needs to or should, but that they don’t listen to him. Mike not only lacks control, but is also attempting to control genuine other people, all for them inconveniencing him and making him worry about being judged. This is another point at which we must acknowledge that Mike is selfish, but also selfish with a sympathetic purpose; he doesn’t want to be judged, and doesn’t want to be alone. When confronted by Jo about Svetlana, he lies and says she’s a character, but fails to actually mimic Svetlana. He’s either a bad actor, doesn’t know Svetlana that well, or both. 

During the first half of the challenge, Scott shouts at Lightning to shut his mouth, once again showing how hard it is for him to hide his true feelings. Meanwhile, Mike helps Zoey up a ledge instead of helping himself, showing that he knows when to actually be selfless as long as it benefits someone he cares about. Once again, we go back to Scott as the Rats win the challenge; and Scott is visibly and audibly upset. He doesn’t bother hiding it now, so why would he before? Another point for the “Scott is genuinely excited to win/mad about losing” theory. When his team is mad at him for picking the bad snow fort, Scott acknowledges that this is bad, but rationalizes that it’s part of the plan. Dude, he has no fucking idea how this plan is going to work, does he?

Now we get to the point where Mike finally acknowledges Scott, and tells Zoey to watch out because Mike thinks he’s “psycho”. Mike is the first person to bring up how Scott’s acting irrationally or untrustworthy verbally; and considering they aren’t on the same team, that means Mike must have been, at some point, watching him. As we mentioned earlier, he’s observant, and will bring something up either if he feels it’ll be uncontroversial or if he’s very concerned. Before Scott’s other team caught onto him, Mike did, and before they became cautious or seriously concerned, Mike did. Why? Does Mike have experience picking out these types of people? Was Mike, for some reason, interested in Scott either out of fear or admiration, and therefore paid closer attention to him than anybody else? Mike’s not a very strategic person in the game, but he is a bit strategic and wary socially, especially if he’s afraid of the other person not liking him. Did Mike view Scott as a threat? Maybe something more? Why? Did he recognize Scott’s selfish or secretive behaviors, maybe in himself? These are all, certainly, questions. Perchance. 

In his scene with Dawn in the snow fort, Scott argues with her about how he’s not going to listen to the snowball, and says he’s full of negative energy; this causes a snowball to explode in his face. Scott’s unwilling to listen to others, even if it spells his own downfall. After this, Dawn claims that Scott wasn’t held enough as a child, which he stops to think about and is shown to be greatly uncomfortable with in the confessional. Dawn has previously been accurate about the home lives of other players (Zoey and Dakota), so we can assume she’s right. In which case, this is “Scott has a bad home life: part two”. Scott’s parents, at some point, did not meet his emotional needs; whether this was just in early childhood or whether it stayed consistent is unclear, but it’s likely that some of his behavioral issues would have been addressed earlier if his parents were attentive following his most formative years. Because his parents didn’t show him enough affection, he likely turned to either methods of garnering attention elsewhere or through other means, diverted that attention towards desiring victory and/or control for his own self satisfaction divorced from the opinions of other people, and/or a mix of both. We can also reasonably assume that Scott’s poor home life could go beyond simply emotional unfulfillment, since Scott seems worried at the notion of her knowing that, and likely wouldn’t be as concerned if he had nothing else to hide. 

Dawn later seems to compliment Scott, calling him a “beetle whisperer”. He turns up his nose and leaves. This could be because he finds the notion of beetle whispering ridiculous, but I just like to think that Scott’s not used to getting compliments and doesn’t know how to react. Just because that’s kinda more wholesome and Dott’s kinda baller. 

At this point, B melts the Maggots’ fort, and Jo asks Mike to do the “Svetlana thing”. Under pressure, Mike begins to panic a bit, unsure of how to escape the lie he’s found himself in, almost confessing; Cameron helps Svetlana front, saving him from this situation, and Jo regards Svetlana positively. This is just important to me divorced from Scike because not enough of you talk about Jolana. Moving on, Scott notices B melting the Maggots’ fort and momentarily panics, before melting the Rats’ fort instead and blaming B; while Scott has committed sabotage and swayed the team vote before, this is the first time his sabotage has actively caused the team to lose. You’d figure he’d be celebrating, but we don’t see that. After the loss, Mike goes to the confessional and worries about Vito showing up; we can assume that Vito is the hardest to control and/or would lend the most to affecting Mike’s social life, hence why he states that the situation has gotten worse and seems so on-edge. Scott’s finally gaining control in the game, while Mike appears to be losing it. Scott convinces his team to vote for B, and lies without a problem; Scott, it seems, is good at lying through his words, but has a hard time controlling how he emotes physically. Mike is the same; when he lies or hides information, his voice and face/actions don’t seem to mirror the stories he puts together on the fly. Mike’s not a malicious liar, he in fact has every reason to lie about his condition, if you consider lies of omission to be lies at all; but if you do, he is, in fact, a liar, and it takes one to know one. My Mutual Understanding clownery is all coming together. 

In episode four, we mostly see extra examples of previous behavior from Scott: annoyance at his teammates (mainly Sam), selfishness and a lack of consideration for others (not helping Sam up and not caring when his teammates go missing), and being oddly happy over success when he shouldn’t be (excited to find the key). At this point, I began considering the possibility that Scott only likes losing when he’s in control of the loss. To fail when he’s trying to succeed obviously frustrates him, but to fail when he’s trying to fail is a success at failing. In less words, it's the need for power and control, again. Maybe he likes to win sometimes for entertainment, or a sense of accomplishment; he might just do it because he can sometimes. In which case, Scott’s a bit more unpredictable than first thought; he does things largely with one goal in mind, but can push that goal off or come up with other shorter term objectives whenever he feels like it. He’s consistently driven, but the thing he’s driving towards is subject to fluctuate when he gets bored or competitive or wants to feel in control.

On the Maggot side, Mike and company are obviously unhappy with and wary of Jo, but none of them say anything. Mike does, however, tell Cameron that he did a good job. It’s possible that after the last episode, when the two worked together along with Zoey to get up the hill, Mike has started seeing Cameron as another potential friend, as he rarely interacted with Cameron before, and we know they will continue to interact more in future episodes. Zoey says he’s “always encouraging Cameron”, implying that he does this off-screen as well, since (correct me if I’m wrong) this is the first time Mike has directly encouraged Cameron specifically. Mike says that Zoey’s all he thinks about when he’s in control, then laughs nervously, as if he’s afraid this joke is too personal or unrelatable or odd. When Zoey goes missing, Mike notices immediately, and begins to panic; the person he’s most attached to here, his only real friend right now, has just left him alone, and the anxiety is all-consuming. He’s worried about her, and probably also scared of being left alone with the rest of the team, who he’s not as close to. I’m going to draw the line here and say that I think Mike might have social anxiety, just in my personal opinion as someone who also has social anxiety. He’s hyper-aware, afraid of what others think of him, and heavily attached with one or two people. He’s also, apparently, very loyal and protective. He abandons the rest of the group to find Zoey despite the challenge, and is relentless when looking for her in a way that no one else in the challenge has been or will be later.

When Brick goes missing, Mike is concerned for him, as are Cameron and Anne Maria; it’s unclear whether this is because they care for him, they’re scared of missing as well, or a mixture of the two. When Anne Maria stands up to Jo for having a bad attitude, Mike also finds the courage to join her. Having someone who’ll agree with him or make the first move once again gives him a sense of confidence to voice his opinion and, assuming he had Brick in mind like Anne Maria, defend the people he (possibly) cares about without as much fear. Shortly after, he injures himself looking for Zoey; once again, he puts those he cares about above himself, but himself over the layman. 

After Vito fronts for a while, Mike suddenly takes over when he hears Zoey cry out for help and attempts to save her instead of winning. His care for others (Zoey specifically but he could generally be concerned for everyone considering the state of affairs [big spider]) triumphs his need for victory, which again lends credence to the theory that he’s on Total Drama for social reasons more so than monetary ones. In the meantime, Scott’s unabashedly upset about winning the challenge, but again, appears concerned for Brick when he begins crying. When Brick’s switched to the Toxic Rats, Mike, Cameron, and Anne Maria are visibly shocked and upset, showing that they probably did genuinely care for him, making it more possible that loyalty to Brick factored into him standing up to Jo earlier.

In episode five, we start with Scott having a nightmare about a shark (Fang). He’s soon woken up by Brick’s alarm clock, though he’s not grateful for this; in fact, he begins punching the alarm clock as a demonstration of what he’s going to do to Brick later. Is it possible, then, that Scott would rather live in a nightmare, a place of strife and fear, than in a reality where he’s experienced a harmless transgression? Per freaking chance. Shortly after, Scott begins stealing from other players to frame Brick. It’s unclear whether this is because he’s mad at Brick for the alarm clock incident, or whether he recognizes Brick as a weak link on the team. Either way, this is probably the most premeditation we’ve seen from Scott, as his plan continues to develop throughout the episode, versus how he normally takes an action right after coming up with it to immediate success or failure. 

During the challenge, Scott tells Brick to prove his loyalty to the team. There are many reasons he might have done this. One is because it’s simply fun to him; he might like seeing Brick squirm. Another is to gauge his actual loyalty and scope out his strengths/weaknesses to exploit them later. Once again, this could be a combination of the two; Scott doesn’t think highly of Brick, but he seems amused by him being a “doofus”. And after this, we see another instance of Scott ragging on someone (Sam) for being bad at the game despite that working to his advantage. It’s probably another instance of hubris: something along the lines of “I could do better than that; I won’t, but I could”. 

Back to Mike, we see an example of him outright lying. Once again, I don’t blame him or necessarily think this makes him a bad person, but he is outwardly dishonest with Zoey when he claims that he just “gets so deep into character that he [doesn’t] know what [he’s doing]”. He promises to stop playing characters if Zoey wants him to, even though he can’t do that, and tells her she’s the most amazing girl in the world. His love for Zoey triumphs over his logic and planning for the future. He’s so desperate to be loved by her that he doesn’t even consider how to make that happen. This is similar to how Scott’s hatred for people or situations trumps his ability to consider consequences, as seen in episode three especially but also throughout the series. Both of them, despite trying to remain calculated and in control, are often so blinded by their emotions that they act or speak on a whim. 

It’s at this point that I must inform you that I forgot that Scott accused Brick of stealing while he was underwater, making that his motivation for sending Brick down there. However, I do stand by the point that Scott’s also a bit of a sadistic little freak and just likes being mean, because he is. Sailing along, I also find it interesting how Scott has to whittle when he starts getting bored; another addition to the point that he’s impulsive at times. And returning to Mike, Dawn claims that Mike “likes her a lot” and “it’s all over his aura”. And now it’s at this point that I am becoming increasingly aware that Mike’s kind of just Zoey’s plus-one in terms of characterization and this post is pointless in that right, but I’ll be damned if I don’t stretch his actions thin enough to give him an actual personality, and then do the same for Scott, and then make them yaoi out. Mike’s a person that cares so deeply for people that it permeates his aura, the very essence of his being; his priority is to love people (Zoey) and be loved by people (Zoey). 

When Scott finds out that his team got the better boat, despite wanting to lose, he doesn’t miss the opportunity to call them “suckers”. Once again, Scott’s goal is glossed over in favor of being a huge bitch to others. This reminded me of how, similar to how Mike’s a lover and wants to be loved, Scott’s a hater, and I think he might want to be hated. When you think about it, Scott hasn’t done a single kind thing to anyone on the island. He’s never upset when people dislike him, and takes every opportunity to be mean or sarcastic. When he does display a positive emotion, he never tells anyone or joins them in expressing it. Scott seemingly detests having positive relationships, perhaps because he’s simply annoyed and inconvenienced by them, but also perhaps because he’s afraid of losing them or feeling like he’s at the whims of another person’s emotions and wills. And in the end, as we know, Scott’s negative relationships will be his downfall, just like how Mike’s unwillingness to break his positive relationships will be his (as well as, y’know, Scott meddling). While it’s probably unintentional, they’re pretty decent foils for one another. 

We get another Scott lore drop when he says that he’s been shooting kitchen rats with his Pappy since he was six. I’m not sure what to make of this really, I just think it’s kind of fucked up to have your kid shoot rats but like I also didn’t grow up in a hunting area so maybe that’s normal and not psychologically damaging. Later, Dawn tells Scott not to fire anymore goals, and he does anyways, to her annoyance. Scott has to know Dawn is suspicious of him, but he can’t resist pissing her off. See, he needs to make people mad; maybe he does this often, maybe he just wants to be on someone’s mind even if it's negative. He eventually tries to get smart about it and he does get her voted off later, but like, hello. This fucking guy. Even though Scott dislikes Dawn, however, he stops Jo and Anne Maria from hurting her after he frames her for stealing. Either he revels in her misery, or he secretly cares about her a bit; this is supported by the fact that she was the only person he didn’t talk about voting off his team in episode four. Anyways, back to Scott being stupid, he openly brags about his knock-off idols as well, when that’s super suspicious; like he really needed to rub salt in the wound that badly. Dawn even refers to him as soulless and sociopathic, and she’s not wrong. He’s so unconcerned with the wellbeing of others, as well as himself. It seems that nothing truly matters to him in the long term, so long as he continues meeting his short term victories in pursuit of what I believe to be an excuse rather than an actual reason. I think that rather than calculating his actions beforehand, Scott acts and creates a justification later, or a justification he can routinely add to. It seems that Scott might’ve picked the Rats because they were close and therefore easy targets. It would make more sense than his actual “plan”. He hurts people and tries to convince himself that he knows why when he probably doesn’t, which is awful but also somewhat tragic. He might not have a real sense of priorities or identity, but tricks himself into thinking otherwise to, once again, give himself more control. Does this make sense? Whatever, we’re like 5763 words in, it doesn't matter anymore. 

Back to party sciking, in episode six, we see the formation of Team Men with Scott, Brick, and Lightning (and later, Sam). Scott’s finally making allies, and he doesn’t seem too upset about it. I think this might clue us into the idea that Scott does want positive relationships, but maybe doesn’t consciously understand that. He doesn’t fight Brick or Lightning on this when he normally would. Later, before the challenge, Mike tries to compliment Zoey, and in the confessional, she tells him to pick a side. And I feel like if you twist that enough we can get into bisexual territory, but I digress. Mike’s upset at his alters for ruining his relationship with Zoey, and while that’s true, he totally forgets to take into account that his alters are also people who also deserve access to the body. It’s more important to Mike that he gets what he wants rather than his alters get what they want, and above all, it's important that he maintains a firm grasp on his life with little to no interference. But he doesn’t seem aware of the fact that his alters are people. It’s almost like the personhood of someone can be diminished in service of his goals, and that he can cognitively distance himself from his actions if they become too (for lack of a better word) scary for him. This might sound familiar because it’s kind of what Scott does as well. They both hurt people in order to get what they want, it’s just that Mike’s unaware that he hurts people but aware of what he wants while Scott’s aware that he hurts people but unaware of exactly what he wants. 

Zoey talks to Mike again, excited to dress a model, and despite the fact that he’s never shown an interest in fashion, Mike smiles. This is because Zoey’s giving him positive attention again. Mf is a bit of a lapdog to be honest. Scott would probably like someone like that, who’s loyal to a fault. The vision is visioning. Anyways, Mike catches a frog, not much to add but he does do that. Fang tries to catch Scott, and Scott notices and catches him with his own trap. He’s observant. Like Mike. They observe each other. Gay style. Scott also grins when Brick proposes a plan and creates an explosive. While Scott’s probably excited to see it blow up in his face, I like to think Scott also admires him a bit, adding to the idea that he secretly likes some aspects of his peers and just won’t express it. Mike tells Anne Maria that the maggot looks bad, which is slightly uncharacteristic of him but okay. He and Anne Maria were friendly before; maybe he’s trying to pull back in service of making Zoey feel better. He’s kind of destroying this sort-of friendship because he likes Zoey so much. Adding to this, he appears excited when Zoey says she wants to dress the maggot. He appears nervous when Jo argues with Anne Maria as well; whether this is because he still cares about Anne Maria despite everything or because he’s afraid of conflict/Jo is unclear. 

It’s at this point that Scott begins manipulating Zoey. Just put a pin in that. Scott and Mike stand next to each other, if that’s anything? They also move similarly, like they’re subconsciously mimicking each other. Do you understand how difficult it is to write about Scike when it's episode six and the most they’ve actually interacted is standing near each other and looking in the same direction? Scott’s impressed by Sam, which is nice; he actually admires something about someone. I think being around people who he subconsciously wants to be friends with is making him slightly more willing to play the game and be nice to people in his own way. He even looks concerned when the yeti throws Sam, and again when the Maggots lose, like he doesn’t want to vote anyone out. 

IT’S FREAKING TEAM SWAP TIME BABY THEY’RE ON THE SAME TEAM WAHOO!! Mike is immediately concerned, the most concerned out of the maggots. This is in part due to him approaching Zoey, but don’t forget, Mike thinks Scott’s off, he notices the things that he does and the way he behaves. Oh BABY he needs to save his friends from this guy, I smell a hero complex brewing. 

In episode seven, the teams go into the mines. About eight minutes in, Mike finds a hat and excitedly explains that he’s always wanted one, to which Scott makes fun of him for being a “hat loving loser”. This is an uncharacteristically lame insult, which makes me think that Scott already has a distaste for Mike and is looking for any reason to insult him; this is probably because he knows that Mike’s onto him, and he doesn’t enjoy the mortifying ideal of being known. And it’ll ruin his plan or whatever. Later in the challenge, when Manitoba and Cameron are separated from Anne Maria, Zoey, and Scott, Scott tries to pin the split on Mike to get him booted. We can assume that Scott sees Mike as the biggest threat on his new team. 

Later, Mike carries Cameron on his back to safety, and says that he hopes Zoey’s okay, despite him also being exposed to radiation. He thanks Cameron for coming back from him and calls him a friend. He’s just, so loyal to them, I don’t think I can say that enough. His friends mean so much to him. And I think Scott could see that and relate to it a bit, because instead of continuing to badger him, he suggests they lose the packs and find Anne Maria. The two of them, along with Zoey and Cameron, all look annoyed at Chris for not helping them, and Scott follows Mike as he leads the team to Anne Maria. I think it’s interesting that Scott stays with them even as the situation becomes life-threatening, and he even shares their surprise when the other team grabs their statue. The two of them run together to grab the statue and they both look happy to find it, even though Scott supposedly wants to lose. Maybe in this life threatening situation, they found an odd sort of comfort in and appreciation for one another, just for a brief moment. And despite knowing what Scott’s like, Mike trusts him with the statue as he runs off to save Zoey and Cameron, putting his own life in danger. This was obviously a mistake, as Scott throws it out, but for a second, it seemed like Scott was happy for him, when it was just him and Mike. 

So Mike starts literally fucking dying defending his friends. Away from Scike, back to Mike prime, he’s about to be killed by the moles, has every chance to run for himself, and his radiation poisoning is getting worse by the second. But he still stayed behind to defend them. The situation got so dangerous that he even tried to tell Zoey about his DID, before Brick saved them. And that’s just??? SO fucking bananas holy shit. He cares about them so much, I dunno what to say. That’s his defining character trait and his fatal flaw, defending others; and it works even better juxtaposed with Scott, who’s defining trait and fatal flaw is only caring about himself. Foaming at the freaking MOUTH dude. He’s got issues, sure, but man he’s so sweet, love him. After this he’s the first person to confront Chris about this not being about the statues, but rather the mine; he’s more than likely upset that Chris put his friends in danger, especially for these ulterior motives. He’s so upset on their behalf, not even his own, that he stands up to the man who almost got him killed.

After this ordeal, Cameron confronts Mike about having DID. In his fear, Mike’s quick to ask who told him that. He’s afraid, first and foremost, that other people know and are talking about him; afraid that this has made him somehow unlikable or unlovable. At the mention of being able to control it, he’s overjoyed, and immediately agrees to help get rid of Scott. Scott’s the first person outside of Mike’s system who he’s been willing to genuinely disadvantage for his own goals. So Mike does not like Scott. But I feel like it’s an oddly intimate dislike. He dislikes him so personally, understands him so thoroughly with such disdain, for such little personal transgressions, that he’s willing to throw him under the bus to regain control over his situation. That’s special in a way, Scott’s the only person Mike would do that to. And considering how Scott treats everyone with hate as a way to cover his actual wants for human connection, and he hates Mike more than anyone else on the team, I feel like it’s safe to say they have strong mutual negative feelings in a way neither of them have experienced before. In a weird way, right now, with Mike having a sway over the team, he’s kind of more in control than he’s ever been. I can’t explain it, but the way they hurt each other goes beyond average contempt to me. In real life, yes, you shouldn’t hate someone that you have romantic feelings for; but I think something like this in fiction blurs the lines with intensity in regard for one another. It’s a blending of concepts. Lois it insists upon itself, but in a fun and intriguing way. I love when characters hate each other with the intensity and obsession that other characters love each other with. 

It’s 2:40 AM and I just hit my pen so I could really lock in for these last two episodes before Mike’s eliminated but idk if it’s going to work. 

In episode eight, we start off with the teams on the rafts. Scott comes up looking anxious about getting eaten by a shark, and Mike returns the expression, and says that the shark will never find them. This could be Mike comforting himself or comforting Zoey and Cameron, but do you know what it could also be? Comforting Scott. The person he’s responding to. Mike and Scott don’t like each other, but Scott still came to Mike first, and Mike still had it in him not to shame or ignore him. Am I making a big deal out of nothing? Absolutely. 

At this point, Cameron explains to the audience what causes each of Mike’s alters to front: Vito fronts when the body is shirtless, Svetlana fronts when there’s a physical challenge, Chester fronts when frustrated, and Manitoba fronts when the body’s wearing a hat. I’m not sure what to make of Manitoba’s trigger(?), but the others make it apparent that Mike isn’t able to handle or is rarely able to handle physical challenges, frustration, or being shirtless by himself. And this is where I should talk about Mike’s trauma, probably. I’m not going to get too into things here because I’m not an expert on DID and also it could be mildly upsetting, but DID develops due to repeated early childhood trauma and different alters may be better equipped to handle certain feelings, tasks, relationships, or memories than others. Mike had to have experienced this repeated trauma and it likely had some sort of physical component, considering Vito’s triggered by the removal of the shirt and he mentions in his character bio that he doesn’t have any good childhood memories besides maybe riding his bike. This, as well as the rejection we discussed earlier, explains a lot about Mike’s personality unfortunately. He’s used to being hurt, and seeks control, stability, and love for that reason. He’s loyal and quick to form attachments because he probably didn’t/doesn’t have any at home. And he’s self-preserving and protective and aware of his surroundings because of this as well, because he has to be. We don’t know exactly what happened in Mike’s life, though there is an “Uncle Vinny” in his character bio (mentioned by Vito) and it is possible that Chester is an introject of an older relative. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. I would like to return to Scott for a moment, and renew the topic of his home life. We’ve discussed how Scott’s family probably isn’t well off, doesn’t show him enough affection, and likely never disciplined him in a way that stuck considering how he behaves. And his father encouraging him to kill rats for him doesn’t sound great either. Like Mike, it would make sense for Scott to have an unstable/unhealthy home life, and for that to translate in his characters. He also needs power over other people, he pushes away people and refuses to make friends, he has patterns of violence, and he’s fast to learn what makes people tick. 

Back to the scene, Zoey starts by complimenting Mike, which he’s excited about (need for approval, ok). However, he becomes nervous when she says it feels like he’s hiding from her. Then when Dakota starts mutating, Mike is the first to diffuse the situation by stating that her hair is growing back. He also leads the charge in pulling the sign out of the raft. After Dakota throws out the sign, Mike also says that they have to get in the water instead. When Scott reminds him about the shark and tries to refuse, Mike shoves him into the water, annoyed. It’s sort of fascinating how much more dominating Mike is in this episode compared to others. Maybe almost dying (or rather, almost losing his friends) in the mine changed him. Or maybe he has more confidence now that he’s the strongest person in his friend group and he doesn’t care what Scott thinks of him, evident by him forcing Scott into the water when he never would’ve done that to someone else. Mike, again, tells the team to stay quiet to avoid provoking the kraken. Man is going off this episode. He’s instantly annoyed when Scott starts freaking out over the shark, he’s so done dealing with this man that he can’t handle it and Chester takes over. Dude they’re soooo in hate. <3 After this, Scott is irate over his team winning, more than he’s ever been before. His feelings are so strong that he’s focusing extra hard on this faux-goal to destroy his own team. Mike’s also upset because the challenge is dangerous, “even by [Chris’] standards”, probably because the last challenge was also ridiculously dangerous and he’s worried about a repeat.

While Mike and Cameron go ahead to win the challenge at Mike’s behest, Scott talks to Zoey. He knows that Mike has a secret just by watching them, and lets Zoey in on this to manipulate her. After this, Mike and Cameron tell Zoey that Scott’s bad news in return, and she claims that he still has a heart. Mike is saddened by the fact that Zoey trusts Scott more than him, and I just think that’s such a…thing to happen. In trying to keep Zoey close by hiding his DID, he just pushed her away more, towards someone who’s so similar to him yet so different as well. We find out from Cameron that Mike fronts when Zoey’s in danger, because he cares about her that much. Scott also steals the team’s compass from Mike and frames him for losing it, blaming him if they come in last, but he fails when Dakota clears the forest of thorns. Scott keeps losing to someone who should be so easy to beat and who represents everything that he hates: kindness, loyalty, and people who stand up to him. Meanwhile, Mike’s alters are becoming increasingly hard to control, and he’s still unwilling to admit to having DID, afraid this will dissolve the relationship that’s already crumbling due to him not revealing it; he’s stuck in an Ouroboros of fear. Scott, immediately after this, seems to be mocking Mike, loudly saying to Zoey, “Would I lie to you?” Scott just knows how to push this guy’s buttons in the perfect way to piss him off. 

When Scott loses the challenge for them, Mike’s probably the most upset we’ve ever heard him, at least in my opinion. He doesn’t hesitate to let Scott know that he fucked up and that Mike thinks he’s full of shit. Mike tries to get Zoey to vote for Scott, done with this charade; Scott feels the same about playing around like this, and gets Cameron to admit that Mike has DID— but he doesn’t want Mike out yet, he wants to toy with him some more. You can see the horror in his face when Scott pulls out the idol. In order for Dakota to go home, it couldn’t have just been Zoey to vote for her, and Mike and Cameron voted for Scott, and Dakota probably didn’t vote for herself. Scott had to have either voted with her, or voted for himself for fun; but irregardless, he didn’t vote for Mike, even though he’s clearly Scott’s biggest target. He doesn’t just want Mike out, but wants to use him first, something we haven’t seen before. And yes, this is because Scott’s a bad person, and taking advantage of his weaknesses; but having his weaknesses known and used by someone would be a sort of ideal scenario for Mike, despite also being his literal nightmare. He doesn’t have to hide from Scott at all, Scott’s probably the only person that Mike can fully be mad at and confront about that anger. Which is very fucked up, but also oddly close, I guess. It’s a unique relationship, it’s interesting to me. The mortifying yet somewhat comforting ideal of being known going both ways. Toxic yaoi. Hate as an allegory for love. Y’know, the usual. 

The toxic yaoi continues in episode nine baby, we freaking made it. The first line that catches my eye (or ear I guess) is “Multiple Mike thinks he’s a ladies man, what a loser”. First of all, reeks of gay thoughts and unaware jealousy; but second of all, notice how Scott and Mike continuously get more and more openly aggressive with one another. They’re falling into a routine with it, almost. 

This is where Scott introduces the deal— AKA, starts blackmailing Mike to help him win the challenge. Mike’s incredibly upset, and even considers telling Zoey about his DID, but is ultimately still too afraid. He’d rather be used than be abandoned. During the challenge, Mike tries to quip back at Scott for telling him to look in the broom closet, but retracts it when Scott threatens to tell Zoey. He tries to look tough to Scott, but fails. And when Zoey’s in trouble, Scott refuses to let him help her, in favor of making him go through the trash. Like with everyone, Scott likes to see Mike squirm, but I think he’s best at it with Mike, and the most enthusiastic about it too. 

I’d also like to mention here that Mike just kind of gives up and lets Scott pick him up and carry him. Just saying idk you know when you just pick up some guy who you hate instead of making him actually fight for you or run in front of you or whatever. Mike also snarks Scott when his car doesn’t work, which, ok, go off King. Mike finally stands up for himself to help Zoey, the desire to protect her stronger than his fear, but Scott remembers how to trigger Vito to front and uses this to his advantage. 

So, at this point, Vito gets clobbered and Mike has the fight with his alters, and it’s soooo bad, it’s so bad dude. They’re all fighting for control as if the moral isn’t that they should work together, it’s ridiculous, but I guess it also makes sense for Mike to be pushed to this considering everything? Glossing over this, anyways, Mike finally comes clean to Zoey and explains that he didn’t want Zoey to think badly of him. And I know everyone hates this scene, I hate this scene, “multiples just means there’s more Mike to —” yeah yeah yeah yeah fuck off idc that’s not how it works. But at least I think it does help draw a final parallel between Mike’s relationships with Zoey and Scott along with Scott eliminating him. Mike’s able to pursue his loving relationship with Zoey through her finding out about his closest secret, and Mike and Scott similarly are able to freely insult each other and develop this toxic almost-codependent-but-Scott’s-way-worse relationship because they also know each other, they know they’re hiding something and they’re familiar with each other’s personalities because hate drives them to look so deeply into each other. Mike gains Zoey and loses his dynamic with Scott, and vice versa, back and forth. These relationships can’t coexist, both because they’re so polarizing but also so similar in their intensity. 

I didn’t watch the entirety of episodes ten through thirteen because it’s 4 AM and this is a Scike post, a 9274 word Scike post. But I did scrub through them and I would like to throw out there the Icarus imagery in episode ten when Zoey burns Scott for what he did to Mike, like Scott got too close to the sun or too in over his head, and Mike was his ultimate downfall. I’m also just going to skitter on past the “Mike makes fun of Scott while he’s in the trauma chair” because what the fuck. What was that.

The relationship between Mike and Scott in canon is, admittedly, less significant in canon than it is in my head, and less well-written and intriguing than I pretend it is, and it’s not healthy, and no matter how I spin it they never actually made up or understood each other in a major tangible way. But I think they should have. I think having them be characters who begrudgingly understand each other and care for each other in a way they don’t acknowledge or even recognize would give them some much-needed depth and maybe consistency. Scott in canon has no close relationships, and the two that Mike has weren’t necessarily great throughout the season even though I like to think that they are. It would be good for them. Adding a few more layers to each of them would explain a lot about their goals, their mannerisms, the contradictions in their personalities; it would make them both more sympathetic and relatable, into some maladjusted teenagers looking for an outlet rather than just a good guy and a bad guy who hate each other. 

In conclusion, this post didn’t make much sense, and it was kind of a waste of time. But it was fun to think about these guys, and I could fix them, and also they’re more toxic in canon than first thought but I’m not necessarily complaining, because what’s a character without conflict and what’s a story without a theme? I didn’t edit or organize it, this was more or less my notes from rewatching the first nine episodes of ROTI. I’m aware it was super repetitive and rambly but I don’t have the time or energy to clean it up so, make of them what you will. Maybe this gave you a new perspective on Mike and Scott, maybe it didn’t, I dunno, I’m indifferent now, perchance. Like and subscribe for more Party Sciking. I need them to hold hands and wear the get along shirt and go to therapy. This ended up being more or less 9,738 words. Hope everything’s right in this, let me know your thoughts but please don’t tell me if you hate it. Goodnight Miami. 

[azures-bazar]

To His Eyes

Here's a one shot following the lovely request of @bubblegumbitchs-world ! The plot was that buff female!reader was insecure about her body, and Arthur is here to comfort her !

I added a few things to the plot, like Micah being mean (as always). Please excuse all these mistakes or non-sense English terms, some of them make sense in French lol

Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader 

Word count : 2.8k

Short summary : You always had a stronger build, as far as you could remember. And Arthur is probably your number one supporter whenever you feel down about it ! 

Tags : Buff woman, Chapter 2, insecurity, cute, you’re beautiful, your muscles are astonishing, Arthur admires and loves you, post Sean’s return party, Micah being mean

"Y/N !" Lenny shouted from the other side of the camp while getting to his horse. "Could you chop some wood ? I have to head to town and can’t do it now ! I’ll pay you back !"

"I’m on it !" 

You put down your morning coffee and headed over to the pile of wood Lenny had left for you. You did not mind trading tasks since you knew how busy Lenny could be at times. Charles was away hunting with Arthur, John was still not feeling well, and Sean… well let’s say your favourite Irish Terrier was too busy sleeping it off after last night’s party before his guard duty. You were the only fella suitable for a task you somewhat enjoyed at times. Wearing one of Arthur’s shirts and a plain grey skirt, you obliged. 

As far as you could recall, you always had a strong build. You had been stronger than the vast majority of children since a very young age, always carrying the weakest ones around the streets of your town. Dutch found you by chance somewhere in 1894 while you were having some hard time finishing a brawl after a drunk man, displaying a cruel lack of decency, had tried courting you by dragging you close to him. You had pushed him away, resulting in a fist fight, which then escalated to a brawl in the entire saloon. Dutch had dragged you out of the pit and took you to his hideout without questioning anything about your bruise-covered face. 

"We need another pair of strong arms, this lady right here will do the trick !" you heard him laugh as you were left with Arthur 

Morgan had spent a few hours trying to stitch your wounds, which was something you obviously hated. He had tried catching your attention by getting to know your name, calmly reminding you that you were safe with him, joking about his current torture in order to make you smile. It took you two weeks to get back on your feet and work with the rest of the gang members, performing chores that were mostly assigned to men due to your strength. Arthur unexpectedly fell for you while you were carrying sacks to Mr. Pearson’s wagon, dropping them nearby before adjusting your hair. 

Arthur had often found himself staring at you, sketching your movements in his journal while contemplating your beauty. He admired your strength, your shape, your beautiful traits, the way you could easily cut Bill’s speeches about women being inferior to men. Even Davey and Mac respected you for that ! Arthur was quick to find himself dreaming about you, waking up shaken and almost sad since nothing he had seen earlier was real. He had made a very first awkward move to tell you how beautiful you were by slipping a drawing on your cot with a note inviting you to meet him in the middle of the night outside camp. His confession was the sweetest thing you had ever heard as you could tell this brawny man, looking so threatening at times with his heavy Southern accent and rowdy behaviour, was as adorable as a puppy whenever he was around you ! 

Your affair had started just a few weeks prior to Blackwater’s ferry heist. Arthur often took you to town, enjoying spending time with you at the saloon or taking you to the tailor for you to get better clothes. Your shape was different than the rest of the girls, and you deserved more than a full ocean of gold according to Arthur. Your stay at Colter, holding onto each-other on his bed had brought the two of you close enough to lead you to share his tent at Horseshoe Overlook. At least, neither you nor him would have to walk through the entirety of the camp to see one another ! Surprisingly enough, it was Dutch’s idea to to bring the two of you together, for the better… and the worse, since you were not this quiet most of the nights.

As you finished your chopping wood, you walked around the hideout to carry a few sacks to Pearson’s wagon before stumbling upon Micah, who had left his chair to head to you, smoking his cigarette with a large smile. You crossed your arms on your chest as you wanted him to move aside, but whenever you tried stepping near him, Micah would move and block your way. Meeting his gaze made you regret not begging Arthur to leave him in Strawberry. 

"And here’s our strong lady." Micah smirked. "How does it feel to have your clothes directly borrowed from Arthur’s stash ?" 

"Get lost." you said as you noticed Karen nearby, who was quick to stop her guard duty as soon as she noticed you

"Must be hard being a lady and having to buy men’s clothes since women’s are too tight."

Ever since the day Dutch brought him in, Micah’s favourite hobby had been to tease everyone around camp, often provoking women. You were his favourite target since you could easily fight back, he had adored the first punch you gave him after witnessing him acting inappropriate towards Mary-Beth. 

"'Em big arms are good for a man, but for a lady…-" Micah laughed

"Shut up." Karen said, interrupting him as she noticed you trying to hold yourself from punching him 

"In my opinion, ladies built like men shouldn’t be called…-"

"No one cares ‘bout your opinion. Leave her alone." 

Micah smirked and walked away as Karen carefully placed her riffle on the ground, taking your hands between hers. Being Micah’s second favourite target due to her overall behaviour, she could not help but feel empathy towards you.  

"Are you okay ?" she asked. "Micah’s always a dick with us ladies." 

"I’m alright." you smiled. "I… I should get back to my chores."

You quickly walked away from Karen, grabbing a few more bags while making your way to Pearson’s wagon, doing your best to avoid Micah who kept looking at you from his seat. His sole remark about your arms made you vanish under a wave of insecurity towards your own body. You looked at the girls, analysing their beauty while they were apparently stitching a skirt. 

It had always been easy to notice that your body type was a little different from theirs. Your muscles were more defined and larger, you were in a perfect shape since you were active most of the time, only sitting down three times a day as you were doing so many things around camp. When you were not doing chores or hunting, you could be sent outside to rob some shops. You were never truly resting, always being active, which caused your muscles to remain as defined as they were. 

"Damn." you grumbled

You found yourself envying the girl’s various body shapes. From Karen’s beautiful curves to Tilly’s thin corseted waist, the way Molly held herself, how sweet Mary-Beth appeared… Micah had made you highly doubt yourself, despite your overall shape never caused you any trouble earlier. In fact, you were proud of it, despite having to borrow some of Arthur’s tightest shirts at times since the ones the girls were wearing were not fitting or could be uncomfortable for your daily tasks. Your body was different and, despite you felt insecure about it, everyone loved the way you looked. 

The girls admired you, you were strong and beautiful ! You were kind and so sweet, with a precious porcelain heart anyone could notice. Men around camp adored your implication into chores, you often demanded more to keep up, frequently asking anyone if they needed help. Even Bill was always amazed by the way you could do things the rest of the girl couldn’t. But your number one admirer and probably best support was Arthur, and nobody could deny it. 

You were his everything, his sweetest girl, his darling lady he would love until his last breath. He loved having you rest into his arms, drawing circles on your back, massaging your scalp while whistling a few old melodies his father had taught him decades ago. He adored the sight of you wearing his shirts since most of them were too large for you, drawing your portraits by night when you were asleep. He loved seeing you wear pants and skirts, dresses or even rags. Every single thing you were wearing suited you, and he was quick to remind it.

"M’lady, you could wear a tent as a dress and a flower pot as a hat, everything suits you !" he often said 

You kept doing a few chores around camp, barely noticing Arthur and Charles were back from hunting. After giving some meat to Pearson, Arthur’s very first gesture was to gently kiss your forehead. Instead of spending time with him, knowing that your chores were done, you decided to withdraw inside your tent to get some rest and untie your corset, wanting to take it of for the rest of the day. 

Since he came back to camp, Arthur could not take his eyes away from you. He could easily notice something was wrong, he could feel it. Just by the way you held yourself, or how quickly you headed to your tent, closing its flaps behind you. Whenever he would come back, even after a few hours, you would spend the rest of the day with him, sitting on his knees by the fire, singing old ballads with him, kissing him under the ocean of stars above your head… but not that day. 

Arthur had left his current conversation with Javier and Sean to head to your shared tent, calmly clearing out his voice before entering, not wanting to walk in while you were getting dressed. Indeed, he had seen you naked more than once, but he did not want to have anyone look inside the tent while passing behind him, just out of curiosity. Sean was quick to do it at times, but no one had the right to see your body bare but Arthur. 

"Can I come in ?" he asked 

"Yes." 

You sighed as you took your shirt off, moving your arms back to reach the laces of your corset. Ms. Grimshaw had given it to you a few days after you arrived, she had worn it years ago when her shape was a little similar to yours. It fitted you perfectly, but you wanted to take it off, feeling the need to wander around camp without it for a few minutes. A dress and one of Arthur’s shirts would certainly do the trick ! 

"Hey sweetheart." Arthur said, walking inside as you were untying your corset. "What’s wrong ?"

"Are my arms really this big ?" you asked, dropping your corset on the ground

"What ?" 

"Am I built like a man ?"

"What the hell are you talkin’ about ?" 

You turned back to Arthur while dragging a skirt out of your chest, putting it on over your chemise as he approached you, looking concerned. You stepped back, wishing for an answer first. You could easily spot Arthur’s confusion as his eyes were quick to speak for him. You proceeded putting on one of your shirts you usually would wear for the evening. It was a tailor-made blue blouse Arthur had bought you back in Blackwater. Your favourite. 

"Just… just tell me if I’m built like a man." you asked, being suddenly brought to tears 

"Of course you ain’t !" Arthur laughed, believing you were joking. "What the hell, Y/N ? Haven’t seen a man lookin' as feminine as you yet !"

Arthur’s reaction made you chuckle, but tears were quick to make their way out of your eyes. You hid your face behind your shaking hands as you started crying, doing your best to mute yourself. Micah’s comments were repeating themselves in your poor mind, causing you to break down into pieces despite knowing how beautiful you were, and how amazingly you were built. 

"Oh, princess… c’mere." Arthur said, opening his arms to greet you

"I’m sorry, I’m…-" 

"C’mere."

You walked forward and threw yourself into Arthur’s embrace, burying your head in his shirt, allowing yourself to cry against him. One of his large hands made its way to your hair while the other one kept caressing your back. He kissed the top of your head and closed his eyes. 

"Lemme guess… Micah’s been sayin’ shit." 

"Mmmm-mmmm…" you hiccuped

"I’m so sorry he’s such a bastard…" 

"It ain’t y-your f-fault…"

Arthur kissed the top of your head, feeling deeply saddened about your the way you felt. He was sorry for leaving you alone with Micah, he was sorry for bringing him back to camp after what they did in Strawberry. On a few occasions, Arthur would deeply wish to go back in time and stop Dutch from leaving camp on the day he would encounter Micah. Life might have been easier without him around, the Blackwater’s botched heist would never had taken place, and you would not be crying into his embrace by now. However, there was one thing which made him outrageously devastated, one single thing which was quick to bring him to tears : witnessing you being insecure about your body. 

"It’s alright, sweetheart." Arthur whispered to your ear as you clung onto his shirt. "I got you."

Needless to say, Arthur adored your body. He would run his fingers on your toned arms, on your back, on your calves, and often admire how beautiful you were. You were his main subject when it came to sketching people. You were so inspiring, inside and outside ! Whatever you were doing, Arthur loved it. To his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman in the world. A large shining sun which was blinding him with love. You were the beautifulest gem of his crown, his pride and most certainly one of the main reasons why he was still alive. There were no other women like you, so sweet, kind and caring, so gentle and so strong, eager to help anyone, whatever the situation was. He loved you for who you were, and the rest of the world did not matter as long as he had you by his side. 

It took him about five minutes to calm you down. You left his embrace after some time, he firmly held you by the shoulders, looking into you eyes with a large smile. You could easily feel lost when your eyes would meet his, they were the main reason why you fell in love. His puppy glance won you over so often that you could not even count the number of times you had forgiven Arthur’s attitude and manners. His beautiful green eyes were quick to show you all the support you needed, you knew Arthur was quick when he had to cheer you up, just like you were with him. 

"You don’t have large arms, and you ain’t built like a man." Arthur smiled. "You’re literally a greek goddess or somethin’. You’re perfect."

"You’re saying it because you like me." 

"First of, I ain’t likin’ you, I love. And secondly, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, period. I love your body, I love bittin’ your well-shaped muscles when we’re in bed, run my fingers on your body… I love you, as a whole." 

"Arthur, I…-" 

"If you don’t believe me, lemme try something. SEAN !" 

You gasped, hiding behind Arthur while buttoning your shirt above your chemise as Morgan called for Sean a second time, you heard him scream from the other side of the camp. He was probably eating some stew or was drinking a whiskey before going on guard duty, and would not hesitate to look between your tent flaps if needed ! 

"Oi ! What’s it, English ?!" Sean shouted 

"Ain’t Y/N beautiful ?!" Arthur asked 

"Oh, ya ! One of the most beautiful women of that damn country with Miss Jones !"

"Shut up, Sean !" Karen laughed behind your tent 

"See ?"

This overall interaction made you laugh. Arthur turned his head back to you and gently lifted your chin up for you to meet his gaze one more time. This time, he was blushing. Just the sight of you smiling at him was quick to make him believe some butterflies were flying in his stomach. You were such a gorgeous woman, even Sean, being in love with Karen, was quick to confirm it !

"Darlin’, you know you’re so beautiful when you smile." he mumbled 

"Thank you, Arthur." 

Don’t ever let Micah make you feel like that. You’re a beautiful woman, the most beautiful I know. Nobody should convince you otherwise. 

You nodded, allowing Arthur to drop a soft kiss on your lips before embracing you one more time. Your confidence was still hurt, but Morgan’s words were so encouraging and genuinely filled with love that Micah’s comments were quick to be forgotten. You nuzzled your head into Arthur’s neck, allowing him to kiss your forehead. You felt protected, you felt loved. You did not need anything but Arthur at this moment.

To his eyes, you were beautiful. And nothing would change his mind, nothing. 

Nothing. 

Nothing.

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter sixty-eight // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this fic: 6.7k warnings for this chapter: p in v, fingering, dirty talk

a million boops to my beta reader banners by @cafekitsune

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Eight:

Cliveden’s gardens at night in the winter are beautiful. They’re vast and eerily empty, though that could just be the stillness of the night. Victorian lamp posts light the way and with the gently falling snow, kinda gives me Narnia vibes.

 I wander around, careful to stick to the crunchy gravel paths and keep the main house in sight. This isn’t the first time I’ve had such an opportunity for escape. Yeah, I could Apparate anywhere, but why? Now that a plan will be in place, what’s the point? It’s exactly what I wanted. 

Movement draws my eye and I catch Diana’s head above the shrubbery, heading in my direction. I’m not ready to go inside yet, so I sit on a nearby bench and wait for her to join me.

“Did they send you to make sure I was still here?” I ask, mostly teasing.

“Kyle did,” she admits as she sits next to me. She’s all bundled up in a stylish thick wool coat while I’m just fine in my Ilvermorny sweater and Thomus’ scarf. “But that’s alright, I’d much rather talk to you.”

Instantly my guard's up. “About what?”

She hesitates for a moment, but I give her my best encouraging expression, despite my raging nerves. 

“Well, I wanted to ask how you feel about Thomus.”

I blink, my eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, um, well, I -”

“It’s just that Jake seems to think you genuinely care about him because of how adamant you are about his safety,” she says. “Now that I’ve met you and I’ve seen you two together, I think he’s right, but I wonder if it’s more than that.”

I think about my answer for a few moments, but respond with a question instead. “Is this because you two used to date?”

She immediately shakes her head and chuckles. “Definitely not. It didn’t last longer than a month or two and it was a long time ago.”

“Did-did he break up with you?” I ask with some hesitation.

“I dumped him actually,” she says. “He just… When we hung out or went on dates, his mind always seemed like it was elsewhere.  The only time he seemed fully present and invested was when we…” she trails off. 

“When what?” I prompt.

She gives me a sheepish expression. “Sorry, it might be a bit TMI.”

I shrug and shake my head. “Don’t worry. There’s no such thing as TMI for me. I need everything.” Even if that information guts me. I’d always rather know.

“When we were sleeping together,” she says all in one breath.

I don’t say anything, waiting to hear more. “Oh, is that it?”

Her eyebrows tilt up in sympathy. “I suppose if I were in your situation I wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down. “I can see that. Do you know what he was so focused on?”

“Well, I know his mother had passed away a few months before and then there was… her .”

“Bellatrix,” I sigh knowingly.

“He visited her every couple weeks - no matter what. I didn’t even know he was still going after we started dating. When I confronted him, he insisted there was nothing physical going on between them, but I… had my doubts. He told me he stopped going after that, but I know he went back after it ended,” she explains. “Does he still see her often?”

“I… have no idea honestly.”

“Have you not asked?”

I shake my head. “Why would I?”

“Because you two are…” she sighs. “It’s complicated, I know.”

“There’s a massive power imbalance between us and I’m not going to let myself forget that, regardless of how I feel.”

“What about how he feels?” she asks gently.

“If anything he feels is real, then why am I still his prisoner?” I answer a little too quickly. “He doesn’t see me as his equal. I don’t want to belong to him like I’m some kind of possession. I want a partner willing to rely on me as I want to rely on them in return. How can anyone be devoted to an object?” I finish by inhaling sharply, having taken short breaths during my lament. 

Her lips press together as she regards me with a cautious look. “The world has really changed since Harry Potter died,” she says. “No one is doing well - especially muggleborns. No one has been able to fly under the radar since they started implementing some kind of forced registry.” She pauses and then chuckles. “And you would not be able to go unnoticed.”

I sigh. “It’s the hair isn’t it?”

“Actually, no,” she says. “You’d be surprised how popular some of these articles about you have been.”

Now this, I’m taken aback. "Articles? As in more than one?"

"I'm afraid so. The best one is from the New York Ghost , but Witch Weekly's was pretty nice. Does someone have it out for you at The Daily Prophet , by any chance?"

"Probably Rita Skeeter," I grumble. I want to know what they've been saying about me. "Though I'm surprised I was interesting enough for one article, let alone multiple."

"I disagree," she says. "I think what you're doing is very brave. You haven't given up despite all these odds stacked against you. Honestly, I was really excited to meet you when I heard you were coming."

I blush, laughing awkwardly. "I, um, I'm sorry, I definitely had no idea you existed until tonight. Thank you for inviting me to that thing on New Years Eve, even though I can't go. It reminded me of what being normal was like."

"No problem!" she smiles. "I would've been glad to have you. You’re super cool and totally normal.” She winks at me and quietly laughs to herself. “But seriously, you should consider thinking that he might just want to keep you safe, where he can protect you.”

“But I can protect myself ,” I gently protest. “It’s because I’ve been under his ‘care’ that I’ve been vulnerable! He has to realize that.”

Her eyes soften with sympathy. “I think he does, because there was one weekend Jake told me about. He’d just met you and Thomus in Edinburgh and you’d been… assaulted while they’d all just been standing there, unknowing. He said he’d never seen Thomus be that violent before - violent without using magic that is.”

I stare at her eye-wided, enthralled with this story. This change in perspective. 

“And then the next night, there’d been this party Thomus got drunk at and Jake said he could tell something was really bothering him. Apparently, he was really reluctant to talk about it, too.”

I scoff. “I hope he got over himself and opened up so you can share this information with me now.”

“Yeah, so he finally said he blamed himself for being an idiot and not paying better attention. Like, it really hit him that your safety was in his hands.”

I… don’t know what I’m allowed to feel. My heart wants to swoon and my mind wants to roll its eyes. Except, if he’s not as terrible as I thought, am I allowed to hope? 

“I think I remember when he came home,” I admit. “We continued drinking and he asked me how I felt - which was very new for us at the time.”

Diana smiles ruefully. “Does he get points for trying, at least?”

“We’ll see,” I say. “I’m definitely nervous that it could all just be a… fling to him.”

Diana startles me by releasing a loud cackle.

“A fling?!” she bellows, struggling to catch her breath. “Oh honey, you’re delusional.”

“What? No!” I protest. “I’m being realistic.”

“Oh Lady Morgana,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes and standing. “Come on, let’s go inside before my fingers fall off.”

~*~

By the early hours of the morning, I’m utterly exhausted. 

Kyle had changed his mind and decided to tell me his roughly outlined plan. It’s not terrible, but luckily the rough bits still have time to be hammered out. I should have plenty of notice before I have to leave, plenty of time for contingencies.

Thomus is out like a light, still snoring softly, when I return. I try to be as quiet as possible as I strip down to my undies and crawl into the massive four-poster bed with him. 

It must not be massive enough, though, because just me softly rolling into position beneath the covers is enough to rouse a few sleepy words from him.

“Darling?” he rasps and I feel his hands reach for me in the dark.

“Hi,” I whisper. “Sorry I woke you.”

He hums and pulls himself closer, resting his head on my chest. “How did we get back to the cottage?” he says sleepily, curling himself against me.

“We didn’t,” I say, running a hand through his hair and the other over his shoulders. “We’re still at Cliveden.”

“Hm, I don’t remember getting here.”

His tone isn’t setting off any alarm bells. It’s low and gravelly, like he’s not entirely awake yet.  He’s just mindlessly chatting and I just have to be casual.

“Well, you were very drunk,” I say. “You passed out playing Exploding Snap. Jake had to levitate you up here.”

His arm around my waist tightens, pulling me tighter against him. “You didn’t leave.”

I don’t say anything, panic instantly spiking my heart rate, and I hope he’s not awake enough to pay attention.

“You could have, but you didn’t,” he continues. “Not that I’d blame you if you did.”

I stay silent, trying to convince myself that his calm demeanor is because whatever he’s talking about, couldn’t be about the drama of the night. There's no way he was awake enough to hear what we said. 

“No,” I murmur. “I didn’t.”

“What room did he put us in?” he murmurs.

I let out a sudden strained laugh. “You’d never guess.”

~*~

On New Year’s Eve, Thomus leaves again. He says it’s to finish last minute tasks for the Gala and whatnot and I feel… depressed… again. I’m mostly uninterested in eating - I ate a bologna and cheese sandwich for dinner. I’m not in the mood to read, listen to music or watch any movies, but I’ve had The Nanny on all day - just to make the house less quiet.

So I just go to bed at the blessed hour of 8pm. 

I’ve barely been in bed for longer than fifteen minutes when the easily recognizable sound of the Floo roaring to life drifts up the stairs. I’ve sat up by the time Thomus finds me.

“In bed already?” he asks, surprised. “On New Year's Eve?”

I shrug, holding the blanket up to my naked chest. “It’s not the easiest holiday to spend by yourself.”

Thomus sits on the edge of the bed, swiftly leaning in to kiss my cheek. “And I don’t intend for you to, I agree completely.” He jumps up, taking long strides through the bathroom to my room, where I hear him opening the wardrobe. I sigh, scooting to the edge to throw my legs over it. It’s just my luck I was already in bed.

“A little warning might have been nice,” I say when he returns, arm cradling a black hoodie and black leggings. 

He takes one look at me and the next moment he’s tossing my clothes on the bed and crowding into my space. His large hands cradle my head as he braces me for his lips on mine. He leans in and I have to prop my arms behind me so we don’t fall backward. Of course this causes the blanket to fall and his hand swoops down to cup and grope my chest, the attention causing my nipples to harden. 

His kisses take my breath away and my thighs are quick to part for him. His hips slide right into the space provided, grinding his hard-on against me. My kisses slacken because all of my attention goes right to my throbbing clit and I desperately whimper.  

His hips rock against me one more time before he pulls away, both of us breathless. His eyes trail down my body as he speaks. “We don’t have much time,” he says. “I will have to savor you later.”

When he steps completely away from me, I’m left cold, so I quickly slide on the oversized hoodie as he adjusts himself in his pants.

“Savor me?” I ask when I stand, stepping into the pants one leg at a time.

He chuckles, watching me wiggle the waistband up over my hips and stomach. “I thought it was a bit more romantic than fuck.”

Ping . There goes the tiniest fracture in my heart for him. I scramble for something clever or funny to say. 

“I suppose it could’ve been worse,” I say, popping in a British accent for the last word. “You could’ve said shag .”

“Cute,” he smirks.

I follow him downstairs, sliding on my socks before I stop at the door for my sneakers and turn for the fireplace.

He clicks his tongue. “Not that way.”

I narrow my eyes and follow him out the door. He takes me to the spot beyond the fence and touches the tattoo before Apparating us to the Manor. The front gates are open and he swiftly takes hold of my tattoo again to get me over the barrier. 

We walk down the entrance path, under gilded arches and golden fairy lights crossing overhead from the tall hedges. Holding my hand, he pulls me around the building along the back toward a door being held open by an elf.

“Miss,” Remmy says to me in a disinterested greeting and drops his voice to a whisper. “Master Thomus, Mistress expects you in fifteen minutes. Master isn’t even dressed -”

“Don’t worry, Remmy, I will be there,” Thomus reassures them as we pass. “Mums the word about Miss Alder, remember?”

“Yes, yes, Remmy remembers,” the elf dismisses. 

Thomus leads me to his room, making sure to use hallways noticeably absent of chatty portraits. A familiar route because of the many times I'd avoided them myself. The moment we’re in his room, he heads for the bathroom, already stripping. There’s a black robed suit hanging from a hook on the door. 

“Please tell me you're not gonna surprise me with a ball gown, are you?” I ask, hopping up onto the bed and toeing my shoes off. 

“I value my neck, thanks,” he remarks, pulling on first his suit pants, then the black button up shirt. “Would you grab me a pair of cufflinks from the closet?”

“Does it matter which one?” I ask, knowing he's got a variety. 

“No.”

By the time I emerge from the closet, elegant silver M stamped cufflinks in hand, he’s already dressed. He smiles at me as I pass him the tiny pieces of metal. 

“All you have to do is wait for a few hours,” he says, his mood curiously… cheerful? “Go back to sleep if you'd like - just don't leave this room. Only Remmy knows you're here.” 

“Why all the fuss?” I ask, my eyes greedily taking his suited form in. I suppress the desire to pull him close by his silk tie for a kiss. He looks too suave and sophisticated and… way out of my league.

“For the simple reason that I don’t want certain guests to know you’re here,” he explains, stepping into the bathroom once again. I hear him spritz a bottle of something.

“And why is that again?” 

He glides out of the bathroom, passing me by with a quick peck to my cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I completely ignore the fact he didn’t answer my question, because I’m way too distracted by his suddenly fragrant cologne. I breathe in lung-fulls of cedar and pine, trying not to swoon in his wake as he pulls out his wand to light the fireplace. 

Then he’s gone, the door audibly locking behind him.

~*~

Well, I definitely try to sleep. Except I wasn’t even tired when I climbed into bed the first time.

First I change into a purple wispy nightgown with a deep vee in the neck that stops at my thighs. Then I change out of it when the frills around the short sleeves become too itchy under the covers, opting instead for a simpler one with long sleeves and a hem that falls around my ankles. 

All this, just to be uncomfortable in every position I try. Nevermind the fact my mind keeps doing laps of worrying, wondering who exactly Thomus doesn’t want to know I’m here. Rodolphus? Bellatrix? Is he dancing and flirting with her while her husband tracks me down this very moment? 

Finally I give up and decide to grab a handful of Thomus’ old Daily Prophets and settle on the cushioned bench in the alcove of one of his windows. I sit sideways on it, my back against the wall with the door in my line of sight. 

I’m about to cast a subtle illumination spell to help my poor eyesight in this dim lighting when movement out the window catches my eye. It’s the curtains billowing out of the open doors to the ball room - or the large drawing room as Narcissa calls it. Golden light spills from windows and the doorway  as the guests' shadows and silhouettes move within. Some are moving swiftly as if dancing while some are mingling. Before I can think better of it, I’m pushing open the French window closest to me.

I hear boisterous laughter and the low hum of chatter, and best of all, music drifts up to me like a leaf in the breeze. It’s the exact kind of music I’d imagine would play at a ball like this, and I can’t help but picture myself down there, in some pretty dress twirling around the room with Thomus.

I sit there, content to listen to the string quartet and people watch. Some come outside for the cool air, others to have a private word alone with each other. 

Hermione is relatively easy to spot. Her black gown is ridiculously puffy around the skirt, but synched skin-tight in the bodice, and even from here I can see the jewels glittering on her chest. I’m surprised to see Draco by her side, dressed head to toe in white. They linger by the door, always surrounded by ladies vying for his attention. I can’t help but notice how his hand slowly caresses her back, almost… lovingly from her waist up to her shoulders and nape when he thinks no one is watching.

Thankfully, I don’t see Bellatrix, but I also don’t see Thomus, either. An inconsequential fact I try not to linger on.

I don’t know how long I sit like that, but eventually Thomus returns, quietly stepping into the room with two empty champagne glasses and a bottle.

“I kinda feel like Cinderella wanting to go to the ball,” I say softly as he approaches. He looks politely puzzled and before he can ask, I explain, “It’s just a No-Maj fairytale.”

“Ah,” he hums. He takes hold of the forgotten newspapers on the other side of the bench and raises an eyebrow.

I feel a blush creep up my throat and try to keep my tone nonchalant. “I… maybe like to read your articles,” I say. “It’s crazy to think we both spent time at The Daily Prophet , but at different times so we never ran into each other.”

I feel like I’m rambling, but how could I not? He looks and smells far too dashing for me to think clearly. 

“It is a bit ironic,” he says, replacing his papers where I’d gotten them from before returning. He takes up the rest of the bench, his back to the window, and places the glasses and bottle on the floor next to him.

“Do you think things might’ve been different if we’d met there instead?” I ask hesitantly, knowing all too well his opinions on ‘what if’s. “Before?”

Thomus sighs heavily and the air puffs out his cheeks. He raises an eyebrow and gives me a sideways look. “Honestly?”

I nod. “Yeah, always.”

“Hm, I think…” his mouth downturns as he speaks, his voice betraying his amusement. “I’d find you the most annoying person on the planet.”

A disbelieving laugh bursts out. “What?!”

He nods, completely solemn. “Oh yeah, always asking questions, always bothering me.”

“Oh no, I’d have to talk to you about our job ,” I say with dramatic sarcasm, trying and failing to keep the smile off my face. “Oh no, what a nightmare.”

Thomus grabs my ankle, lifting my foot so he can shift closer, until my calf rests on his opposite thigh. That hand slides from my ankle all the way up my leg, and I’m disappointed it’s not under my nightgown. “It would have been an absolute nightmare to have you prance into my office every bloody day,” he continues as his fingers meet the crease at my hip and wedge themselves in. Then they keep traveling and grip all the plentiful flesh there. “I’d never be able to get any work done because I’d constantly be thinking about bending you over my desk.”

My eyes run laps over the sharp lines of his face, trying to determine if he’s serious. “Is that so?”

Thomus’ eyes drop to my mouth, his free hand brings his thumb to brush my lower lip. “These would be the worst. With every meddlesome question you ask, I’d only be able to think about how they’d taste.”

I’m holding my breath - my heart thudding, my ears burning. I’m suddenly very unnecessarily conscious of how far my glasses have slipped down my nose, the cool breeze from the window across my chest, and how heavy I’m breathing over his thumb. And for some reason his accent is doing funny things to my insides right now, of all times. 

His voice is low, husky, and oh, so hot. “I’d be thinking about how you’d sound when I touched you. And yes, I say when . I could only endure such torture for so long before I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

I snort, a disbelieving smile breaking out under his thumb. “You make me sound like some kind of irresistible vixen.” A chuckle rumbles out of his chest, but I keep going. “Well, I have good news for you - I wouldn’t object to any of that.”

“Is that so?” His hand caresses from my jaw to my neck. 

I bite my lip to control my grin. “Well, yeah. Why do you think I’d be bothering you so much in the first place?”

Thomus lets out a breathy chuckle and sits back, his eyes crinkling in the corners. I can only stare, mesmerized by seeing genuine happiness on his face.

“So,” I say brightly. “Are you enjoying this party you put so much effort into preparing?”

His smile fades. “Not as much as I ought to, I suppose.”

“Oh, why not?” I ask, placing my hand over his one on my neck, feeling along the lines of his knuckles and fingers.

“The people down there…” he starts, eyes gazing out the window, “the only thing I’ve ever been to them is a source for gossip and scandal. And then the few who look past all that see the Malfoy name and nothing else.”

I let that process. “So what you’re saying is you’re a real catch?”

He bursts out laughing, the hand from my hip reaching up to scratch his chin. “Yeah, for those desperate to social climb.”

“So you’re a desperately eligible bachelor ?” I tease with a bit more drama to my tone. “How interesting. All the finest debutantes must be lining up down there, so what ever are you doing up here with me?”

“I’m a little old for debutantes.” He settles toward me into a more relaxing position, pulling his knee up and pressing his calf onto the bench under my thighs. With his face closer to mine now, his softly spoken words are loud and clear. “And besides, your company is vastly preferable over theirs.”

My face floods with heat and I crumble under his direct eye contact. My mouth suddenly feels as dry as the desert while I’m forced to figure out some kind of intelligent reply. “Quite shocking, really,” I say, my voice a whisper until I clear my throat, swallowing down some nerves. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with the wizarding world’s most crankiest?”

He laughs again. “Are you talking about me or them?”

I’m about to answer, but a dull tapping sound coming from the party draws my attention. The guests are returning inside, tapping their wands against their champagne glasses. 

“Ten minutes to midnight,” Thomus explains. “Lucius and Narcissa are about to make their toast.”

I slip my other hand around the one he has at my neck, both of mine cradling it near my chest as I glance at the clock on his mantle. “I guess that means you have to go?”

“Probably,” he admits slowly. “But I’m here.”

“Hold on, speaking of being here, isn’t Draco supposed to be in Switzerland?” I jut in, my eyes easily finding him and Hermione on the edge of the crowd. 

“He is and Lucius is absolutely furious,” he sighs. “I can’t believe he’d be so foolish.”

“Well, it's obvious, right?” I ask, side-eying him, unsure if this is something I could even talk about. “He’s like, really into Hermione.”

A few moments tick by in silence as I stare at the crowd below. I glance at him to see his eyes had been on me the whole time, his expression pensive. When our eyes meet, he holds them for a moment before his gaze follows his hand as both of his gently hold mine instead. He pulls back my left sleeve, his fingers lightly tracing his name inked on my skin. Then he goes further, tracing the white puckered lines of the scar Bellatrix left me. 

“What’re you thinking about?” I whisper.

His lips curl ruefully. “I’m thinking about how much of a hypocrite I am. I’ve called him foolish when here I am,” he says. “Unable to stay away.”

“From what?” I breathe, feeling stupid the moment I finish. My heart is beating so hard I wonder if he can feel my pulse where he holds my arm.

Thomus’ eyes hold on my arm, avoidant of my own. His voice is soft like he's telling me a secret. “I snuck you in tonight because I couldn’t bear not spending it with you.”

My eyebrows come together and I feel my head shake. “It’s just another year.”

“No,” he says, his eyes flashing up to mine, adamant. “Moments like these are important, to spend with those who are important. That’s why they’re all gathered down there, isn’t it? To go into the New Year praising the Dark Lord’s reign, congratulating themselves for their accomplishments this year.” He looks back down at our hands, at his name. “I know I don’t have much to celebrate in that regard, but I do know that you’re important to me… and frankly I'm tired of pretending otherwise.”

I can only stare at him. Unable to think, unable to breathe . How could he say something like that? 

When I finally have to draw breath after what feels like an eternity, I only get to say his name. “Thomus -”

The loud popping of fireworks bursts from below, along with some cheer that has me turning my gaze away only briefly. I turn back and Thomus’ mouth descends on mine. 

The kiss is full and wonderful, but short. He pulls back inches away to search into my gaze, like he’s asking for permission, like he’s making sure what he just said was okay. 

It was more than okay. It’s exactly what my heart wants to hear, even though my own stubborn insecurities push doubt into my mind. 

I can’t say anything back. I can’t tell him how I feel.

But I can show him.

Our lips meet again in a rush. At least it feels like that to me, like we just can’t bare being apart anymore. I pour my heart and soul into this kiss. My hands find their way into his hair, his caress and grip every part of my body he can reach. 

Soon I’m pushing him back so I can climb onto his lap. He’s pulled up my nightgown and the cool air feels amazing on my bare legs. I’ve got one foot on the floor and the other is bent at the knee, helping control my balance while I’m grinding on him. 

He keeps pulling me to him, my weight rocking into him, and I brace a hand on the wall in the bay window as he falls further back, keeping me upright. His hands slip under my nightgown, roaming my thighs. I adjust my hips, feeling brave enough to put both hands on his chest to steady me. His suit pants can’t hide how hard he is. I try to use that as a reminder he’s genuinely into me. No matter how many times I’m in his lap, it’s still hard to believe he wants me here. 

“How long till you have to go back?” I ask with controlled breaths. 

He growls. “Just fuck me, baby.” His fingers painfully dig into my hips as he pulls me down, undulating his hips against me. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

There are things I want to blurt out, simple little words swelling in my chest that threaten to ruin everything. 

But if I confess how I feel, it wouldn’t change anything. I’ll still be his prisoner. His possession.

I don’t wanna be an object. I long to be more .

My hands slide up his chest to meet at his neckline, shoving my fingers into the knot on his tie. I don’t bother pulling it all the way off before I go at his buttons, not stopping until his muscled chest and abdomen are revealed. My hips rock, rubbing my pussy over his cock straining to be let free. 

Then I jump up, standing to shimmy my undies to the floor. Thomus sits up and shrugs off his suit jacket, pulling off his tie completely. I pause, waiting to return to my seat, but then he looks at me, his eyes raking me up and down. 

“I want that off,” he says, referring to the only article of clothing I have left. 

I struggle not to make a face, because I still have a hard time being completely naked in front of him. If we were in bed, that would be different. This just feels too exposed.

I grip the material around my hips and step toward him. “Take it off for me?” I ask.

Lust-filled eyes lock on mine and his hands go to my thighs, sliding them up my sides, taking the gown with them. I raise my arms to help him pull it off the rest of the way and a blast of cool air from the window makes goosebumps rise all over me. It sends a shiver through my body and my nipples harden.

When my arms are free, I step even closer and cup his face, pressing my lips to his. I kiss him softly, from one corner of his mouth to the other. While I distract his mouth with sweet kisses, one hand takes off my glasses and the other goes to his belt.

Of course, I can only use one brain cell at a time, so my mouth becomes distracted when I struggle with undoing his belt. I just pull my mouth away all together so I can get a visual on my hands. I glance up at Thomus’ face to find his heated gaze focused on mine. 

“Sorry,” I mutter, looking down at the matter at hand. “Not very sexy, I know.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” he says and inhales sharply when my hands finally wrap around his swollen cock. My palms glide up and down gently before giving it a firm squeeze. My thumb circles his head, spreading a bead of pre-cum, and he leans forward, lips and tongue tracing a path from my neck to my breasts. One of his big hands cups my breast and when he immediately bites down on my nipple, I gasp and whimper. His tongue soothes away the pain, swirling around the stiff peak. 

His other hand slides down my thigh, fingers feeling the dimples and divots until they hook behind my knee. My hands go to his shoulders for balance as he lifts my foot until it’s on the bench. His fingers quickly glide back up my thigh, this time underneath it to where it’s most sensitive and softest. 

Thomus’ lips release my nipple and he pulls back enough to see my face. “I think you’re very sexy,” he murmurs. “From this pretty little pussy of yours” - his fingers glide through my folds, teasingly spreading the slipperiness from the center to my clit - “to those lips I just can’t seem to get enough of.”

His thumb presses in on my clit and my train of thought struggles to stay on track. “You’re pretty hot too,” I say breathily. “You’ve got these shoulders and thighs and hands that just -” My words are cut off by a moan when he slips two fingers inside me.

“That just what?” he teases, unmistakably smug. 

It takes me a moment to answer because his thumb in combination with his fingers curling against my g-spot have my hips rocking and my brain turning to mush. My breaths come in short pants and my eyes are pinched closed, focused on riding the pleasurable waves his fingers are orchestrating. 

“Concentrate, darling,” he presses. “Answer me.”

“Hands,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders, “hands that do terrible… awful things to me.”

His fingers turn aggressive, pressing harder and rhythmic as he hums in approval. “That’s a good girl.”

His lips return to my nipple and that pushes me past the point of no return. A stream of curses and Thomus’ name tumble from my mouth. My toes curl and my body goes stiff as my orgasm washes over me. Thomus slows his long fingers, but still presses in hard on my g-spot as my pussy pulses around him.

When I can finally breathe again, I push at Thomus’ shoulders and he leans back, bringing his drenched digits up to his mouth. He groans at my taste and resituates himself on the bench, pushing his pants and briefs past his thighs. I’m still dazed from my orgasm when Thomus pulls me on top of him. He holds his cock at the base and guides me until he’s sliding home, deep inside my pussy. 

“Oh fuck,” I moan, my eyes closing. This position never fails to put him as deep inside as possible, and if I really sit on his lap, he’s hitting my cervix. But that would be painful, so instead I move my hips around slowly, figuring out what angle works best and won’t kill my thighs. One particular move makes him groan and my eyes flutter open to find his locked intently on me, watching my body move. I definitely found the right one.

I start to go a little faster, a little harder. I have a hand on a window pane and the other grasping his shoulder to stabilize me. My thighs are burning, but the pain isn’t enough to make me stop. He’s inside me, and I love being connected like this. What I feel for him never feels more real than it does in moments like this. When I can’t be in denial.

With the increasing intensity of my hips, little whimpers start to tumble from my mouth alongside my panting. My bottom lip is nailed between my teeth and as I can feel my orgasm hurtling towards me, fuck is the only word coming out of my mouth. 

Whenever he feels they could use more attention, his hands never fail to stray to my breasts. Supporting them as they bounce and sway, leaning forward to kiss and nibble at my nipples. 

“So fucking beautiful,” I hear him grind out above the steady and erotic sound of our bodies joining. 

My orgasm is close - so, so close. I’m starting to go crazed, desperate to cum again. Thomus is, too. I can hear it in his voice as he groans.

“Baby, I need you to cum on me.” His voice is strained like he’s in utter agony. 

I let out a frustrated whimper as I pause to grind on his lap, hoping for an angle that hits my clit. 

“I need - can you - ?” I gasp out. 

I don’t even have to finish my sentence before his fingers wiggle in under my belly. My pussy’s so slippery, the pads of his fingers find the hood of my clit and press in, rubbing it in circles. My hips jerk, bouncing up and down on his cock, continuing even as my orgasm finally crashes over my body. I throw my head back as my back arches. His body stiffens below me as he cums, groaning out his pleasure.

“Beautiful darling, well done,” he pants with praise after we both have a chance to breathe, his voice shaking. “I lov-”

Thomus is abruptly cut off by loud banging on his door.

We both jump like we’ve been hit. There’s a moment where our eyes meet and I see panic cross his face just as it does on mine. 

“Thomus!” a familiar man’s voice calls from beyond the door. 

Thomus blinks, his expression hardening. He brings a finger up to his lips, warning me to be quiet. “Closet,” he whispers. “Go. Now.”

Nodding, my legs are like jelly as I push myself off of him. He’s hastily throwing on his suit as I bend to scoop up my nightgown and undies. I dash for the closet. It’s dark enough I can just hide behind the open door. Instead of the nightgown though, I opt for my pants and hoodie. Plus a pair of Thomus’ socks while I’m at it because mine are lost in the sheets somewhere.

While I’m desperately dressing, the man at the door calls for Thomus again. “Where have you been, Thomus? I’ve been sent to fetch your ungrateful ass.”

I squeeze behind the closet door to peek through the crack between the hinges just as Thomus strides to the door. He’s fully dressed and smoothing back his hair with his fingers. He pauses to take a deep breath before opening the door. 

It’s Rodolphus. 

“What do you want,” Thomus demands, sounding amazingly composed.

Rodolphus leans a hand on the doorframe. “You missed your brother’s toast,” he says, a mocking lilt to his tone. His hair is disheveled, the tie to his tux hangs loose around his neck. “How could you have missed this moment to show support for the Dark Lord? Your family? ”

“I don’t answer to you,” Thomus says. He keeps his back straight and his chin up.

Rodolphus puts a finger to his chin, tapping it. “And then I remembered a few other times you’ve mysteriously disappeared from similar events,” Rodolphus continues before abruptly shoving past Thomus into the room. Thomus tries grabbing his coat tails, but he somehow avoids him.

Rodolphus stops in the middle of the room, eyeing it while slowly turning back to Thomus. He inhales heavily through his nose and steps back towards the window with the bench. “A moment ago, I was convinced you were up here fucking my wife,” he says casually. He reaches for something on it and my anxiety explodes in my chest the moment I see him pick up my glasses. “Of course, I was only half-right. This room reeks of sex, but my wife has never hid.”

Rodolphus drops my glasses and stomps on them with his shoe, crushing my lenses under his sole. The glass crunches as he turns, backing up towards the closet. Thomus watches him with furious eyes. His hands are empty, but I know in the blink of an eye he’d have his wand.

“I’m surprised you can still get it up for her since her… accident ,” Rodolphus taunts. “She’s utterly repulsing if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Thomus bites.

He’s so close to the closet. My fingers feel for anything on the shelf behind me and immediately feel the unmistakable smooth metal of Thomus’ shoehorn, the very one I tried to pummel him with. 

Maybe New Year’s Eve kisses are good luck.

I raise it over my head as he steps to the doorway.

“Your silence is very telling,” Rodolphus chuckles as he slowly steps into the closet. I hear his footsteps on the wood floor as he disappears on the other side of the door.

I’ve shoved my anxiety down enough so I don’t panic as he reappears, wand scanning the room.

Just as he turns to me, I transfigure the shoehorn into a dagger, and hold it up to his throat.

[frozenjokes]

I support all of his wrongs (he’s never done a right in his entire life)

obligatory fic snippet time, find the rest in my pinned post

the kestrels will absolutely believe scar when he tells them he isn’t haunted. why would he lie.

***

“I guess I don’t have a choice then,” Scar frowned, risking a glance back. He was expecting the ghosts to be there, but not directly behind him, hanging over his head. Scar couldn’t stifle his own startled gasp, turning stiffly back around. Hopefully no one saw that. Based on the way everyone was staring, they absolutely did. Oh boy.

“Alright!” Sausage clapped, drawing the room’s attention back to him, “If you haven’t already guessed Scar, this is about your.. hm.. Let’s say your attitude when the topic of the paranormal surfaces. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we- especially after recent events- are concerned. Don’t you think that’s fair?”

Yeesh. This was going to be a shit show. “Okay, yeah, I understand where you guys are coming from. I know weird stuff happens around me a lot, and I know everyone likes to joke around, but you’re looking too deep into things. That’s all.”

“Well, we don’t feel that way.”

“Blunt.”

“You need to hear it, Scar, so take this seriously. And we want to help you if we can, so just give this a chance. I’m going to start, and we can all go in a circle and share times where we feel that your, or our lives have been endangered. I’ll go first! I will not lie, I did not appreciate you pulling your sword on me when I tried to take the ouija board away. Clearly, at least to me, whatever happened with the screaming event was connected, and I’m honestly quite concerned you want to keep something that dangerous around.”

“Alright, that wasn’t my best moment, and I am sorry, but I don’t think you have any right to touch my stuff.” Scar was ready to start tearing out his hair. Grian seemed awfully bold today, floating forward to laugh in his face. Pearl joined him, flicking her fingers in Scar’s face to try and get him to flinch. His frown only deepened.

“Me next?” Kyle pointed to himself, and began on Sausage’s nod, “Well, the big thing is the first ouija board incident. That was crazy. Those scratches weren’t deep, but I think they’re going to scar. But it isn’t even just that- it’s also how freaked out you were about it, before and after. You knew! And I don’t blame you for the fact that it happened, you warned me and I didn’t listen, but if you really don’t believe in anything paranormal, what’s with the edginess?”

Scar opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by Impulse floating across the circle, using some unknown momentum to do little flips in the air. Scar closed his eyes. “No comment.”

“Okay, well my turn!” Oli started, puffing out his chest, “Now I know you tell me whenever you see me to mind the noise, or don’t think too hard about, or whatever, but gosh Scar, you are so loud in that room of yours! And I get it, everyone talks to themself from time to time, so I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t heard who you were talking to! I mean, you even call them by names! The night you had your, for lack of a better word, seizure, you were talking to a Grian! And then there was another night where you were talking to someone else!

screenshot in doodle page is a direct continuation, the rest of it needs more context so it’s not here

***

[allcanonisrelative]

Leveragetober day one: food and love (which are of course the same thing)

Eliot & Parker-focused post-canon OT3 ficlet for @leveragetober

“I’m sick of thinking about it,” Parker huffed, flopping down on the sofa with her head hanging off one end, looking at the world upside-down. “It’s too many decisions and it’s every day, three times a day and then again the next day, when does it end, when does it get easy? Never! I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

Across the room, Eliot slowly took off his apron and tossed it over the back of a chair, keeping his steps deliberately light and even as he approached. Tapping her ankle, he waited until she lifted her legs, body temporally forming an elegant L-shape with her feet in the air, and sat down on the end of the sofa, wrapping his hands around her ankles when she settled her feet back in his lap. 

“You want me to think about it for you?” He broke the silence after a minute, without looking at her, hearing and feeling the deep breath she took in and let out as a weary sigh. 

“No,” she dragged the word, folding her arms protectively over her chest. “I’m an adult, I should be able to, to, to — ugh!” Her feet twitched in his lap, tapping out a rhythm of frustration and shame. 

“Park,” he murmured, thumb pressing into the arch of her foot, drawing her back into herself with his deliberate touch. “There’s no ‘should’. There’s only what works for you.”

“But Sophie—“

“Parker.” 

“…yeah. I know.”

She sighed again, and Eliot shifted her feet in his lap, setting to giving her a proper foot rub, feeling the muscles in his own shoulders start to relax when she gave a quiet sigh then an unselfconscious hum, melting into the couch and into his touch. 

No one could have been a better influence for his girl than Sophie, Eliot knew that, believed it with all his heart, but that didn’t make her a perfect role model. Trailing her own peck of mysterious trouble Sophie had been more patient with Parker from day one than any of the rest of them, and maybe it was being close to another woman for the first time in her life, Eliot  couldn’t begin to speculate and doesn’t care to but along the way Parker got it into her head that there were certain things Sophie did that were absolutely right and true and the marker of successfully acting out the role of an adult. Actually, now that Eliot’s thinking about it, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was something to do with the fact that Sophie is just as much of a freak as the rest of them she only hides it better behind dozens of masks ranging from subtle to dazzling that most people don’t even see let alone know to look for them, leaving Parker to the conclusion that she could or should construct her own masks in homage to Sophie’s and that is the marker of success — not making it, but faking it. 

“How about this,” Eliot heard himself say, before he’d decided to say anything at all. “You know how I am about food. About making food. How it. How I. I need to do it. It’s…”

“It’s your heart,” she said quietly, the words he still couldn’t bring himself to put into the world himself. 

“Yeah. So how about if when I’m cooking for myself I make extra for you. I won’t ask you to make any decisions about it, I won’t even ask you if you like it. You can eat it in your rig up in your rafters if you want, makes no difference to me. But that way you always know you’ve got something waiting for you, you don’t have to think about what you’re in the mood for if you don’t want to, you don’t gotta think about what’s healthy or not.”

When she spoke her voice came out muffled and Eliot looked up at her face for the first time since he sat down to find that at some point while he was talking she’d lifted her hands to cover her face. “But food is supposed to be more than fuel.”

“Did I say that?” He asked, and when she nodded he reached up and curled a hand gently around her wrist, thumb stroking over her pulse point. “Thought you knew better than to listen to me by now.”

She moved her hands to peek up at him, eyebrows folded down quizzically. “But I like listening to you.”

Eliot snorted, and squeezed her wrist lightly. “All right, then listen to this. There’s no ‘should,’ there’s no ‘supposed to,’ and Sophie ain’t got a corner on the market of what it looks like to be an adult. Here in this house I count three adults who couldn’t be more different from each other or from Sophie and most days I think we do okay.”

“Most days,” Parker agreed, and turned her hand over to bring them palm to palm. 

“So if you make Hardison get off the couch and work out with you every day and he makes me sit my ass on the couch and ice my damn knee at night and I make enough food that you always got something to eat even on days you don’t feel like it, maybe that’s just how we make it work.”

“Maybe that makes us lucky,” she said after a long, still silence. 

“Oh yeah?” He said, keeping his voice light even as something raucous and joyful took up howling in his chest. Her face whenever she made a new connection, whenever she decided to trust him with a thought that she hadn’t tested out herself first, goddamn, he would move mountains for this woman. 

“The first time I asked Sophie about love she said it was what made us feel alive. I told her I felt alive when I was jumping off a building and she said ‘maybe that’s why they call it falling in love’ but I don’t think that’s right. I don’t think it’s about falling I think it’s about catching. I don’t jump because I want to fall I jump because I know my rig or my parachute is going to catch me. And now you and Hardison, you’re my rig and my parachute. You catch me.”

“We catch each other,” Eliot said, as soon as he could trust his voice to come out steady. 

“That’s nice. Right? I think it’s nice.”

“It’s really nice.”

She linked her fingers through his, and used his hold on her to leverage herself up to sitting, pulling her feet out of his lap. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Eliot, will you make me something to eat?”