#I'd split my skin and veins if it made you happy

[lvndosnorris]

🍒anon

how about lando letting his girl be on top for the first time ??? luv u

🍒 you've made my inbox so happy — sending you kisses

it was perhaps the fourth, fifth, time you'd slept together before you swallowed your nerves and asked lando if you could be on top this time. almost immediately you felt a wave of embarrassment, the urge to bury your head in your hands and pretend you hadn't uttered a word became overwhelming as you tried to inspect how your newish boyfriend was going to react.

the position you were in had already formed that all-too familiar knot in your stomach — sat in his lap as his blunt fingernails dug into the bare flesh of your thighs. for a split second he thought he misheard you, only realising what exactly you'd proposed when you ducked your head to finish tracing your forefinger over his collarbones. you couldn't stop your babbling, even when you tried; "it's just— i'd hate for you to think that you always have to do all the work, especially because i know how much you enjoy it and— lando stop making this awkward!"

he'd only be able to shut you up by gripping your cheeks, squeezing them together gently as he raised his eyebrow in a manner of are you finished yet? and lando wasn't entirely sure on how to respond: simply catching your lips with his as you shuffled that little bit closer, whining almost pathetically into his mouth as he tilted his head back, letting your tongue slip further against his. it was a messy kiss, a heated one laced with urgency as he felt the blood rush to where your bodies were connected.

you were thankful that he was pressed against the headboard, the wooden piece offering leverage as you lifted your hips just enough for you to bunch his shirt up onto your waist and lando to kick his boxers between the sheets. he couldn't take his eyes off you, even if he tried, enthralled with the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you nudged yourself against his tip, "just go slow, yeah? don't want my girl to hurt herself."

his words offered solace as you strangled back a whimper, barely able to lift your chin from your chest as lando's hands cupped the back of your thighs for support. the angle was different — one that made your cunt stretch in a new way, the pounds of your heart drowning out any mewls that left your mouth as you pushed him further inside of you.

it was lando who stopped you halfway down his length, his forehead scrunched as his sight became impeded by a strand or two of his hair. it was picturesque: the way his biceps flexed as he held you tightly, a sheen of sweat coating his skin as he dropped his vision to where he had disappeared inside of you. his moans were incoherent, a mixture of fuck and your name as he guided your movements, only letting you sink deeper when he heard the way you drawled out your pleads.

mouths clashing he concealed your quiet whines of pain, his tip kissing your cervix in a way that you'd never felt before. his lips didn't leave your, hungrily attached as you languidly rocked your hips, hands clung onto the back of his head as you pulsated around him. lando's hands trailed from the curve of your ass to between your legs, the wetness that coated his fingers earning a groan as he thumbed at your clit — the pleasure surging through your veins as you listened to him groan, neither of you set on cumming anytime soon in fear the euphoria would end too quickly.

[jolalibrary]

there's nothing blue about you

javier peña x f!reader | masterlist

summary: javier peña's dreams are haunted by shades of blue, blending his fears into nightmarish landscapes. only his lover's touch anchors him, transforming his dreams into hues of something else.

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v. overuse of the colour blue, like by a lot. this whole this is an angsty bitch, with hopeful/hea. leans close to gothic horror in some ways but not quite, honestly? unsure how to describe what in the hell I've written. third-person reader (she/her). no descriptions, no y/n. an: written for @studioghibelli's fic challenge. (the moodboard is at the end of the fic). i think i leaned very much into painting and blue, and I'm not sure if that at all was what was asked of me. thanks: i'd have likely scrapped this if not for @goodwithcheese who took my weird-poetic-ness and called it lyrical and somehow it made it worth how long I've agonised over this. i hope she knows i love her, and if not, i hope this very public declaration confirms it. shoutout @pedgito who urged me to do this. wc: 2.7k

Javier Peña dreams in blue.

Thick strokes of azure, cerulean, and navy smear the world, forcing it to twist around him. Smearing the world, forcing it to twist around him. Knocking it all on its axis—allowing the horrors to blend into fairytales and happiness to shift into nightmares.

Shifting, changing. His worst fears come alive with brushwork, forcing scenarios to swallow hopeful desires.

Each blot spreads out like tendrils, drawing their tales in wide, brisk strokes, in shades of melancholy and yellow. The latter is a beacon—a spark of hope in a sea of nothing; a beam that guides him back to reality. To being awake, where his heart squeezes tight. Eyes open, struggling for breath before the sun has even risen. Sometimes, even before the stars have stopped sparkling and glittering. Sweat beads at his temple, palm to his chest—gasping, struggling to breathe as he drags his hand down his face, swiping the hair above his lip.

Then, anxiousness embroils. That same hand patting, sliding, eyes blinking furiously as he banishes shadows and forces them to shift back to non-threatening inanimate objects.

He’s able to breathe when he feels her. Alive, asleep.

Blissfully unaware of his nightly torture as her chest rises and falls—soft breaths mingling with ragged ones. Curling close, inhaling her scent, listening to the steady way her heart forces blood around her veins.

Hoping, praying, that when he closes his eyes he dreams of nothing, but knows they’ll be worse now. They always are when he wakes and reaches for her. As though by touching her, they spill to her, ruining her too. Wrap their fingers around her, change her skin to deep shades of blue in his hands as he falls through landscapes and lands in hell.

Then she sobs, pleads; tight little balled-up fists hammering at his chest as she shakes everything in him until she rips like paper, leaving him alone, just like he envisions he should be.

But then, he’d choose those over the ones where his hands are stained in her crimson, blotched, unable to be washed, little beads on his clothes and then a rainfall. Her split in his hand, eyes fading from light to dark. Those haunt him for longer when he wakes and he sits opposite her over breakfast and tries to force a smile.

Sometimes, he worries that his dreams have become the thing she adores. Reminding him of the poster she’s framed in her place—the one with swirls of a night sky.

She stares at it often, loses herself in it—escapes. Javi envies her for it. For being able to lock away the things that plague her, evading them, not to be tormented by them in fields that shift and flutter around him. He thinks it’s because she carves out the parts that make bags appear under her eyes through painting. Inspired, thriving, transforming wicked things into light, taking something that weighs her to something that makes her smile. Each drag of her paintbrush was like a spell, like magic.

“It helps.”

“How so?” he replied, leaning against the wall, arms folded, admiring.

Shrugging, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand before dabbing the brush into the murky water. “Just does.”

He wishes she’d run the brush over him. Run the synthetic filaments over every part of his skin.

But then, if he was asked, Javi would choose not to have the dreams at all. Would rather not be lost in a labyrinth of blues, where a lantern flickers and tries to guide. Instead, they cast ochre-shaded shadows that appear like shape-shifting failures. Each of them dancing, whispering secrets, finding all he can do is follow. Trust in it, hopeful it takes him to her, like his real life.

An accidental meeting, a connection that soothed his bones. One that had him smiling when he sat back in his truck, had him thinking when the darkness smothered the backyard and had him wishing for second meetings.

But, unlike his reality, the path is never straight, always winding, always shifting.

Sometimes, he sees her in the distance, her figure bathed in moonlight, a silhouette against the swirling sky. Sheet falling, curves and all on show. He reaches out, only for her to fade, dissolving into the night, leaving him grasping at the air like he’s chasing a ghost. A thing conjured, never real.

But, she’s real now.

His arm is behind his head when he hears the faint groan as she stretches before a palm slides over the soft curve of his stomach. Her breath fans over his lips, a whispered morning before they press to his. Smooth, velvety, gentle—addled with sleep, yet dripping in need. His name is punctuation in the sentence when she says, want you.

He never squanders the chance to remind himself of actuality. Moving her until she’s on her back, until she’s as bare as she is in his dreams—nothing blue, nothing midnight, cobalt or sapphire. Feeling her, taking the time to as he kneads her breast and grazes his teeth over the bud that hardens against his tongue as her nails scrape red along the olive of his skin.

There’s no making up the way she feels between her thighs, warm, slick, and inviting—or the gasp she emits when he curls two fingers inside of her and her back arches at the intrusion.

A blessing. That’s how he’d describe her when he’d been caught smiling, wearing smitten like an accessory. Questioning on the second date if she could be the sun to his night. Bright, luminous, radiant. The type he’d somehow expect to find shopping in town in a movie, but not in Laredo.

Too perfect—

Made only more so when she’d slid her underwear into his pocket on their third date. Before the mains, after the starters. Too much of the meal to go before he could make an excuse that’d allow him to hear if she moaned as pretty as he had thought.

It’s too pretty the noises she makes. Another thing he yearns for. She emits them in varying shades, but they’re always cried with his name—whether he fucks her rough or gentle, whether he takes his time or bends her over the couch decorated in plush cushions and creased blankets.

She welcomes it, when he hikes her dress up or when he pushes her panties to the side; when his mouth is pressed to her spine or when it’s crashing to her lips. Use me, she says, suave, sultry—each letter wrapped in intoxication as she leaves dye only he can see on his skin and he leaves bruises that he’ll look to replace in a few days.

He remembers when she painted him.

When she made him beautiful on white canvas—saw him, immortalised him with finger marks and paint strokes.

Do you like it?

He answered only by sliding down onto his knees, by pulling the shorts she paints in down her glorious thighs and answering yes against her pussy. His tongue explained it better than words could. His fingers had dug into the flesh of her rear as his nose bordered her swollen clit, her thigh rested on his shoulder and her palms pressed into her workbench, leaning back, for leverage as he fucked her with his tongue, as he drank up every drop she’d give him—as though it healed him, fixed him.

When he can, Javi likes bending her over around her paints—taking her. Likes that sometimes an open can or a left-out brush stains him in a way he can see. Rich oranges and deep greens. He enjoys spreading her out on her workbench as he makes her whine his name which makes all other ways his name is spoken seem obsolete. That there’s more than her sweat on his skin, her scent digging into his bones—evidence, proof of existence.

He has all the evidence now as he slowly slides his cock inside of her. As he swallows her whine, her moan—a gasp tinged with thankfulness. Feeling her stretch around him, take him in one smooth movement as allows himself to glance down and see where they meet. Then, he drags his eyes up, and sees how she smiles, how her fingers are reaching for him, grabbing for him. Needing, desperate, wanting.

But not just for his body, for what lived inside of his jeans. But for him.

Not just the daytime, but the blue version that drapes over him when things get too quiet and his mind gets too loud. No question asked, but an offering of comfort. Like when she had slid across his lap, when she pulled his head to her chest, brushed fingers into his hair. And he wonders like he did then and only ever to himself, how cruel it is that he cannot be something more for her. How unfair it feels for such sunshine to be surrounded by a storm.

He had smiled, though. Half-assed and minimal. Pulled her closer, so she sat more comfortably across his thighs. The grin barely reached his cheeks, never mind his eyes. “How strange, to dream of you even when I am wide awake.”

Her snort loud had punched the air. “Poet now, are we?”

“For you, I’ll be anything.”

More words had surrounded it, not spoken, but there. I’ll do anything, be anything. I’ll try, I’ll—

Unsure how else he could keep such a thing, unsure how he can keep perfection curled up against him, who’ll remind him his demons are only self-inflicted.

“Maybe just be you. You, are plenty enough.”

He had sneered, chin dipped, shame blooming.

“Hey,” she says urgently, fingers hooking under his chin as she drags his eyes to hers. “You are, Javi. And I’ll be reminding you of that until I have no words left in my mouth.”

“Be a while then, with how much you talk.”

Even as she pinched him, he pressed how he didn’t deserve her against her lips, against her cheek, neck and collarbone. Not that she took them. Ripped them instead, shredded them.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.” Her fingers then glided across the back of his neck, head rested against his. “Because, you know, Javi, there’s nowhere or no one else I’d rather be sat on…”

A beat passed, one he waited for, fingers brushing over her skin. “…crushing.”

He laughed then. 

Because she always pulls laughs from him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s a soul full of joy, happy. Like he wasn’t a man who had spent a decade around destruction, misery and streets filled with scarlet, weighed down by it. 

She makes it lighter. In the same way, she calms him at night and he thanks her for it in the morning.

Like he’s doing now. Licking his thumb before he presses it to her clit, swirling, forcing her pussy to draw around him, to hold his cock as tightly as he needs, sucking him in, gasping for more as her breasts bob with each thrust, and her mouth falls open in a silent moan—

“Close, m’close, Javi. Fuck, baby—”

He presses his mouth to the juncture of her neck, feeling her attempt at vocalisation. Letting it vibrate against his lips, tingle. Proof that he’s awake, that this is real, that in any moment things won’t turn—

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he groans, pressing kisses, dotting them in a pattern like stars in the sky. “Feel so good around me...”

She whines. A noise he banks in his mind, a jar full now—one that sparkles and shimmers.

“You feel good too.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, hands sliding around his neck, digging into the hair at the base of his neck. “Always make me feel good,” she slurs.

Javi hooks her leg over his waist. A new angle, one that drives him deeper, as she clenches and he snaps his hips to hers. Feeling her close to snapping, her thighs already shaking, trembling. His chest heaving, her ribs expanding, copious breaths to still the dizziness she inflicts on him—just by being, just by existing.

It’s building, that fire in his veins, the fever that spreads out of him when he releases inside of her and she tugs him close as she comes down from her high. His hips stuttering, his name a symphony that erodes all other noises from his dreams.

And, there’s nothing blue about this. Nothing despairing, melancholy about this, about her.

Not when she flutters and arches when she comes and uncoils. Her fingers dig into whatever part of him she can get to before he smears himself inside of her, groaning into her neck as he spills and thinks of nothing but how much he adores her.

How much he loves her. Because he does. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her.

“I love you too,” she whispers from underneath him, his head pulling from her neck—elbows on either side of her face.

Finding seriousness staring back, her fingers skating over the sweat sliding down his forehead, wiping it on the sheets she lies on.

“Unless you hadn’t meant to say it. Then I take it back.”

He blinks. Thinking of the summer’s day when he’d first seen her; the first rainfall two months later when his arms had wrapped over her front, pressed her back to his chest and they felt the cooling air slide over their warm skin. He remembers the night he’d told her everything, and the new candles that had become stumps as she listened; the stormy afternoon turned night when he’d taken her out of town, and how her hand had slid over his and thanked him.

“I meant it.”

Her lips slide into her cheek, palm pressing to his chest. “Good.”

He wonders over morning coffee, when she glances at him and smiles if his dreams are merely a reflection of his fears—rather than anything that could come true. A manifestation of his fears of losing her, fearing the day when the blues will no longer be just dreams. Because good things don’t always, least of all to those who don’t deserve it.

He blinks them away when she tells him she has something to show him, hearing her bare feet on the floor until he doesn’t, counting, reaching twenty, before she appears, a new canvas in hand.

And when she turns it, letting it face him, his breath is stolen—feet forcing him to stand.

Her hand held it, the brightest shades that could ever be. Mixed brushstrokes into something that heals a crack in him, one that he’s never asked for. Because in every shade but blue is him and Pop outside the ranch, a place that had never felt like home, but now feels like the only place he could ever call such.

“Where are you?”

She blinks, the slightest frown in her brows. “What… what do you mean?”

“You belong there too, cariño.”

And if she hadn’t believed him in bed, in the things he’s not said, he thinks she believes them now. Leaning the canvas against the counter, feet padding towards him before her mouth is on his—different, more necessary, as his arms slip around her waist.

Something else slid back into place, able to fill his lungs a little easier.

Not a shade of blue in sight, not indigo, powder or sky.

And he worries it’s temporary—a thing that’ll change come nighttime. But he smiles all the same, right against her hairline when he presses a kiss there too. Feeling her hand sliding around his waist, becoming an anchor, a rock, a crutch.

He loves that about her too, that she does that for him. But he’ll tell her that tomorrow.

A silent promise, one beginning to stitch with a smile. And, then, when nightfall comes, and the painting rests against the wall of his room, Javier Peña finds—for the first night since he’s been back—that he doesn’t dream in blue.

Instead, he dreams in yellow. In honey, citrus and sunshine.

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 31 second half

Halsin and Jaheira by now had a small group of civilians between the two of them, Jaheira taking the lead, her knowledge of the city unimpeachable. Halsin brought up the rear protecting those who couldn't fight as they made their way into The Upper City. They paused a moment as Jaheira's attention turned to a familiar voice amongst a throng of dying illithids. “You try and make a pawn of Minsc!? You try and hide away Boo to conceal your wrong-doings?” A powerfully built man in leathers felled mind flayer after mindflayer with a large, heavy sword. Jaheira could not fully hide the relief on her face at the sight of him. “Minsc!” She called out as the last illithid fell to his blade. The man's eyes widened as he saw her. “Jaheira? But you were dead! A tricksy creature took your shape and when Boo discovered its treachery, with its dying breath it said it had killed you!” “I am much harder to kill than that, Minsc. You know this!” She chuckled. “But I saw you overwhelmed by cultists, how have you not joined these things?” She gestured to the mindflayers at his feet, their strange ichorous blood pooling. “Ha! Jaheira, Minsc's brain is to smooth for any slithering, crawling little beastie!” He paused a moment, looking to a small ball of fluff at his shoulder. “Eh...except you, Boo!” “Join us, then. We need to get these people to safety.” She nodded towards the group, who seemed unwilling to move until she or Halsin said so, relying entirely on them. With three heroes, their progress moved far more swiftly and they found themselves nearing The Watch Citadel. Halsin could only hope Jaheira's happy reunion boded well for his own and that Sentry was already inside. ---

“Gabraela!” Minthara breathed as the three adventurers passed by a group of mind flayers trampled and frosted with rime on the ground. The tall, imposing tiefling stood in her bloodied armor beside an impossibly beautiful elven woman with long, thick black hair. Several cloaked figures stood beside them. “The Absolute loyalists have usurped our temple. They do not realize this thing will never realize father's perfect end. We rounded up those still loyal to our father and have been fighting them.” She explained, her haunting deep purple eyes full of fury. They softened a bit as she gazed at the drow. “I am glad you're safe though...” “Oh! Please tell us, friends...how is dear brother Sentry? He may be a traitor to our lauded father, but he is still my dear baby brother at the end of it all.” The elf spoke up, batting her long dark eyelashes at Octavia and Gale. Octavia blushed a bit, hunching her shoulders and lowering her head at the attention. Gale seemed visibly uncomfortable as the woman's dark eyes searched his face. “He was well the last time I saw him. He went to confront the brain.” Octavia managed finally. “I'd ask you to help us guide civilians to safety, but...I'm not so sure that's a wise idea to ask of Bhaalists.” Gale wrinkled his nose. “A fair point. Rest assured we will at least secure the streets. Baldur's Gate is our home too and our temple lies beneath its streets.” Gabraela nodded. Their conversation was interrupted by the intrusion of another wave of mind flayers. “You should run.” The beautiful elf giggled and as Minthara took one last look towards Gabraela, she watched the two begin to transform, bones snapping and cracking sickeningly. Gabraela's lower body split and extended, a sinewy, skinless horse body expanding beneath her hips. The skin burst from her upper body and her long white hair fell out in clumps, leaving a raw horned skull with purple light glowing in the sockets. Four lean, powerful arms run through with black and pus-yellow veins held a massive scythe as the dripping, skinless horror began to trample enemies.

The beautiful elf's body began to extend and cover in scales and what appeared to be blood red moss and mushrooms. A pair of insect-like wings sprouted from its back and its eyes went fully black. Its body was like that of a mantis interwoven with a small dragon or a wyvern and the torso of a beautiful woman rose up from it, covered in tiers of fungi and with the long scythe like arms of a mantis. She grinned wickedly, baring terrible needle like fangs and rushed another group of enemies. Octavia gazed in wide eyed fascination, her leather journal open as she scribbled down what she saw. “So any Bhaalspawn can embody The Slayer? And they're all different?” She breathed. “I had only seen Gabraela's slayer form before and only while fading in and out of consciousness as she freed me from Moonrise.” Minthara replied.

“I think I've seen enough Bhaalspawn to last me a life time if I'm honest.” Gale admitted with a shudder as he looked towards the Citadel in the distance. “We should keep moving. The others should be waiting for us there.” ---- Lae'zel dashed up the stairs of the Citadel followed by Shadowheart and Karlach. The Siren's Cove pirates and Priestesses of Umberlee had assured the party that they would hold the docks and urged them to hurry to the rendezvous point and every wasted second, Lae'zel worried that something would go wrong, that Kroger would be unable to free Orpheus, or that he would fall before the chance arose. As the party made their way forward, they encountered another group. “Hey, not to pretend I'm some mind flayer expert, but that mind flayer they've got with them doesn't look like The Emperor.” Karlach pointed in confusion to the being that floated near Kroger as the party that had confronted the brain staggered to a halt just a short distance from them. “It could be Omeluum, the shape of his head is similar.” Shadowheart suggested. “Although the robes are different...Do illithids often change their clothes? I mean, if they're just a projection and all that.”

Lae'zel peered in confusion. This did not bode well, it should have been Orpheus at Kroger's side, not some Ghaik, emperor or not. She stepped forward, about to address her brother, to ask him what had happened, but she was beaten to it. Kithrak Voss looked more furious than Lae'zel had ever seen another githyanki in her life as he stormed up to Kroger, eyes wild with rage. “You held the future of our people in your hands, boy! And you ruined it!” He shouted. Kroger winced but stood firm, neither shrinking away or trembling like he might have back at Creche K'liir. “How dare you parade around with this abomination!” Kroger breathed deeply. “Voss, this 'abomination' is our people's salvation, our people's bravest hero.” He began, but Orpheus brushed past him, eyes on Voss. “Voss! Gith'ka tavki krash'ht” Orpheus addressed him softly. In that moment, Voss' eyes widened in disbelief and he held out a hand to his fellow dragon riders. “Stand down, the true heir has spoken.” Voss cursed, a look of pain on his face as he sheathed his sword. “No...it cannot be....Orpheus, what's happened to you?” He approached him warily. “A sacrifice had to be made, we need to end The Grand Design at all costs.” Kroger spoke calmly, although his guilt still ate at him, the way Voss looked at Orpheus, Kroger dared to allow his eyes for one moment to look back to where Wyll stood. “The duty fell to me, and when it is complete, I must die.” Orpheus explained. “This is the way it must be.” “But what of our people? Our liberation?” Voss replied, Kroger could see there was much he was holding back and he wondered just what the knight's true relation to the prince had been despite himself. “Our people have held my name in their imaginations for years, Voss. Tell them of my fate, some may scoff or dismiss it, but others will believe and will be empowered by it. Our people will be free, you and the others here today will spread my story to them.” Orpheus looked to Kroger and then to Lae'zel. “Yes, of course, we will make sure everyone knows of your sacrifice, my prince.” Lae'zel nodded, striking a solemn salute with her sword. “This will be my oath.”

“Will you help us, Voss?” Kroger asked, looking to the knight. “We must end the grand design, I know this isn't how you envisioned things, this isn't what you wanted, but...” “We stand a chance at defeating the brain. This young hero and his companions hold the key. You must answer to him as you would to me, Voss.” Orpheus gestured to Kroger. He paused a moment, lowering his head and closing his eyes. “But your majesty!” Voss reached out to Orpheus. The illithid gently brushed his hand against Voss' extended hand. “ Your friendship, your constancy – when I fell to despair, they elated me. Thank you, my friend. Sha va zai.” Voss nodded his head with resignation, forcing down the emotion threatening to well up. “Sha va zai.” Kroger looked away, the guilt threatening to overwhelm him now. He told himself this was the right thing to do, the only right thing. There was no other way. He hadn't known what he was taking away from Voss, he couldn't have. “We need to keep moving, the brain won't wait for us to explain everything perfectly.” Jaina interrupted, nodding towards the darkening sky. “Hells, if we could just broadside the damned thing....but what ship could reach it?” “Perhaps it needn't be a ship.” Voss offered finally, looking to the red dragons hovering just beyond the walk way.

Jaina grinned, looking to Lae'zel and then to Kroger. “Never thought of sky pirates, but damn. Your people have the grit for it. I'd say yes!” ---- As the party parted ways from the Githyanki forces, they arrived outside a large set of doors leading to a massive entry hall. Inside were hundreds of people huddled in fear, but alongside the frightened civilians, there stood a host of allies as well. “Zev!” Sentry grinned widely at the sight of the older paladin, rushing over to him. “By the broken god, you're still around!” “Yes, I thought about what you said, Sentry. My Hellriders and I have one last chance to make things right and if this is to be our last stand, at least we'll go out in a blaze of glory.” Zevlor replied, placing a hand on Sentry's shoulder. “Nope! You're gonna survive and redeem yourselves in everyone's eyes and then you're gonna buy me a drink and we're gonna swap stories.” Sentry insisted with a grin. “Oh you found your way here! Nibbles, my sweet boy.” Jaina cooed, hurrying over to the owl bear, now clad in heavy armor. She scratched affectionately at the fur around the sides of his beak and grinned. “And ready for battle too!” She looked to his side to see Dammon standing there. “Your work is excellent, as ever. When this is all done, there's something I'll want to talk to you about.” She nodded towards Karlach off in the distance and Dammon nodded in return.

“Let's put our heads together and see what we can do.” He agreed. “I found some broken Watchers while I made my way here and I think I'm on to something.” “You have done well, little former Sharran.” Aylin beamed with pride at Shadowheart. “Did I not promise my love and I would come to your aid when you needed us most?” She clapped her on the shoulder. “And not a moment too soon, Dame Aylin.” Shadowheart smiled. “It will be an honor to fight by your side again, that brain won't know what hit it.” “There is a Selunite enclave not far from the city, Shadowheart, perhaps when this is all over we could host you there? I'm sure there are a lot of questions you have about your people when this is through.” Isobel offered with a sincere smile. “You've come quite a long way from the scowling, wet dog of a creature I met at The Last Light.” “I can scowl a bit more if you like.” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “Father....”Wyll smiled as he approached Duke Ravengard, standing discussing the upcoming battle with Councilor Florrick. “Wyll, you've shown yourself to be a hero this day, the hero our city deserves. Only tell me what you need and you will have The Flaming Fist to follow you into battle.” He smiled at him. There was pride in his eyes. Wyll felt his heart surge in his chest at this feeling of being seen, of being understood by his father. All he had ever wanted was to protect his city, and to make his father proud of him. “Thank you father. We will defeat this Nether Brain and restore the city.” He assured him. “When you return, there is a matter I want to discuss...It is far past time you were able to return home, my son, and to the position you deserve.” Ulder began with a nod to Florrick.

“Wyll, your father intends for you to remain here in the city, as Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate.” She explained. “It is time for a change, and you would be a change for the better. Please consider it.” Ravengard nodded his head to his son. Wyll simply stood there, dumbstruck. This was beyond any thing he had ever expected, and in truth, he couldn't even be sure if this was what he wanted. Finally free of Mizora, he could at last live his life on his own terms, with Jaina and Karlach...There were still so many adventures to be had, there were so many people beyond Baldur's Gate who needed him. He wasn't sure what choice he ought to make, he looked to Jaina deep in conversation with Dammon, and to Karlach, who had finally approached Sentry. “Hey soldier...” Karlach gave a grudging nod of her head. “Well, that's certainly a step up from 'ass hole'” Sentry gave a small smile. “End of the world got you sentimental?” “It's not the end of the world, you prick.” Karlach shot back, giving his shoulder a shove. “But look, I could waste so much of the little time I have left being pissed at you, hating you, but I don't want to. In the end, it doesn't matter what you did or what you deserve, I deserve better than to lose my last few hours being pissed off....so I forgive you.” She frowned. “Not for you, but for me.”

“Fair.” Sentry nodded. “You don't have to accept it, but for what it's worth, I am sorry...This is all my fault at the end of the day, and I can't just tell you some stupid little platitude like 'oh, Gortash manipulated me and I see now I never really loved him'. You deserve better than a lie. So I'm sorry for what he did to you, I'm sorry I love him regardless, and I'm sorry for what I did too. Sorry that it hurt you, anyway.” “That's a fucked up apology, mate....yeah, I'd be kinda dumb to accept it, but still, at least you're honest.” Karlach held out her hand. Sentry gripped her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Well, this is our last chance before the final push, I feel like our heroes should say something.” Jaheira nodded towards Kroger, Jaina, and Sentry. “Oh...um...I'm not one for grand speeches.” Kroger protested. “Go on, brother! You must at least try!” Octavia spoke up encouragingly from her place by the door way. Kroger cleared his throat and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose, all those eyes on him, he could practically feel them. But he focused his thoughts and gave it a try. “You are frightened, your city is overrun by Ghaik and a malevolent being has cast its shadow over your home. But when things are darkest, we must look for the light. There are always bright spots if we know where to find them. In this darkness, that light is eachother..and...I suppose...the enduring willingness to fight back.” He trailed off. Jaina caught onto Kroger's struggle and picked up. “I have lived in this city for seven years now, not a long time, but that is long enough to see that you are strong, you are resilient! You are a city that stubbornly sat atop the strong hold of a god of murder, a cloister of darkness, and a vampire lord's slaughter pits, but that has never stopped the people here from living their lives and pushing on ahead. You are home to one of Umberlee's greatest servants and one of her most glorious temples, you are the favored port of so many of her chosen champions...and I want you all to know that you are under her protection as well as ours in this moment.” She looked to Sentry.

“I....” He began, pausing a moment. “Fuck....Enver was good at this, not me....” He murmured. “I'm not good at speeches, which, you know, a paladin probably should be, we're knights in shining armor, right? But that's not what wins a fight like this, if I went up against this thing on my own with just a sword and Ilmater's name on my lips, I would get pulped. I would get pulped and people would panic, and it would all be over.” He looked at the crowd around him, the looks of surprise and disbelief on the faces of many of the civilians. “But that doesn't mean it's all over right now! Because I'm not facing that thing alone.” His eyes fell to Zevlor. “It's too common that people dump all their problems on one person and then that person thinks it's their responsibility to save the world all on their own, it breaks you down, it overwhelms you...It steals the best things from you and forces you into this state where all you can do is just try to survive and hope you don't fuck up too badly. But it doesn't have to be that way! Baldur's Gate, you are going to be alright, we are going to take this Nether Brain down because there are a lot of us!” He could see now. Aylin, Florrick, Dammon, an arcane projection of Rolan. Zevlor was still here, Halsin and Jaheira and...shit, that was Minsc...from the stories.... “We play to our strengths, we do what we're best at, we join forces and we kick this thing's ass!” “Yes! Minsc is most adept in the kicking of evil's butt!” The large, rather enthusiastic ranger beside Jaheira whooped with glee, raising his hands and clapping them enthusiastically. “Exactly! We do this together!” Sentry pumped his fist. “We do this together and we live to see tomorrow and we keep on keeping on, like Baldurians do!”

The applause started slow and hesitant, but it was there and soon it began to rise through the room, filling the enclosed space with a roar of approval. Sentry managed a small smile as he took a few steps back and turned, slinking from the crowd to go join Halsin for a moment. “Well...uh....as heroic speeches go, I'm thinking that was MAAAAAYBE a three if I'm being generous? Hm?” He asked as he leaned against the druid. “No matter what you thought of how it sounded, you spoke the truth, Sentry. I know better than most the cost of placing a burden squarely on your own shoulders alone.” Halsin smiled approvingly, his arm gently sliding around Sentry's shoulder, holding him reassuringly. “You taught me that I would need to rely on others, to accept help. Without you I never could have stopped The Shadow Curse.” “You could have, I think...it just would have taken a really, really long time and you might've had to bring Kagha or someone else much less pleasant to be around than me.” Sentry grinned, nudging Halsin playfully. “If I'm honest, I'd sooner have brought a trained squirrel with me than Kagha, there are some torments even I couldn't bear.” He laughed. “So she was awful before the whole refugee situation too, then?” Sentry asked, relaxing in Halsin's embrace, allowing himself this one moment to feel safe. Halsin winced and paused a moment. “I wouldn't exactly say awful, but she was quite comfortable voicing opinions I found abhorrent....we...disagreed...on Silvanus' teachings to a near irreconcilable extent.” “Fair, fair...I certainly 'disagreed' on Ilmater's teachings with a lot of the prissy upper city boys in my training class back at the temple.” Sentry shrugged. “You know, I'm not much for droning speeches and posturing, but that was far less tedious than the type I'm used to. Good work.” Astarion grinned, approaching the two. “But in all seriousness, try not to get pulped, would you? I'd feel just awful if I had even less to live for when all this is over.” Sentry motioned the pale elf closer and pulled him into the embrace as well. “You'll still have me. Death is cheap and I'm really hard to kill, remember?”

“Well, assuming Withers sticks around after all this.” Astarion replied, though he rested in Sentry's arms, his head against the paladin's chest as he took a moment to allow the events of the day to wash over him. “I saw you talking to Sentry....Are you alright?” Jaina asked as she approached Karlach, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah...I think I am. It's like I told him, I've got maybe hours left to live and I don't want to spend them being pissed off, I deserve more than that.” She nodded, gently resting her hands on Jaina's hips. “I want to think of you...and of Wyll...not of how gods damned unfair everything turned out.” She leaned down, pressing her forehead to Jaina's, a little hiss of steam as her warm flesh touched the chilly, sea slick flesh of Jaina's head. “Hey...if you guys have a kid, name her after me, huh?” Jaina gave a small smile, her fingertips brushing Karlach's cheek. “Well, that would be pretty weird considering you're still going to be around, can you imagine how confusing?” “Jaina....we both know I won't be...I'm not going back to Avernus. I'm never going back to Avernus.” Karlach replied, holding her tighter. “What if you didn't have to go alone?” Wyll stepped up beside her, his arm around her shoulder. “What? But Wyll, you and Jaina...there has to be a wedding and then I bet they'll make you a king or something, at least nobility, after all this...” Karlach turned her head to look at him in disbelief. “Weddings take forever!” Jaina shook her head. “Planning is SOOOO long. On the island, it took a year or more for something formal! Most people just get married in the heat of battle, like aboard a ship in a storm.”

“And look, we're in the heat of battle right now...well, just about to be anyway.” Wyll nodded his agreement. “And as to the being a king or nobility, gods below! Nothing could be worse! I'll fight by your side instead of sitting hearing petitioners and going to boring feasts and meetings any day.” “And besides, who knows? Maybe Avernus is just the place to stave off coral lung just a little longer.” Jaina added. “I think we should all go.” “You'd really come with me, knowing how awful it is?” Karlach looked back and forth between the two of them. “Well, it'll certainly take more than one person to take down an archdevil, three seems like as good a number as any.” Jaina nodded. “Besides, I don't think I'm quite done with Mizora, I would love to pay her a little social call when all is said and done.” The tiefling cracked her knuckles with a shark-like grin. “I've had enough of that woman to last a life time, but I do hear The River Styx is lovely this time of year and the banks are an excellent picnic spot.” Wyll joked. “Guys...thank you....” Karlach bit her lip, eyes glistening as she held them both close to her.

Octavia smiled at Gale as she looked around at everyone gathered in the room. “You know, when I was a little girl back at the creche, I never imagined I would be able to observe so many istik in one place.” She was still writing in her notebook as she sat by his side, her head against his chest, feeling the thrum of magic beneath his skin. “I want to thank you for being kind to me, for letting me get close.”

Gale chuckled, running a hand gently through Octavia's pale hair. “Is this where you tell me you plan to whisk me away to your creche and perform experiments? Because I have to warn you, I'm not entirely sure the orb will stay dormant under a scalpel.” “No!” Octavia gave him a playful shove. “I am serious! Most people chased me away or my questions bothered them, but not you.” She continued earnestly. “You had questions too, you cared about who I was, who my people are...you got to know Lae'zel and Kroger...and now I want to get to know the people closest to you a bit better too.” She smiled gently. “And that is why when this is all over, I want to go to Waterdeep with you. I want to get to know Tara, I want to meet this infamous 'Morena Dekarios'.” Gale laughed, scratching the back of his neck and blushing a bit. “Ah! Well, I must say, I am certain mother will be glad to hear it, she would like you a lot, I think....I just hope you're prepared for her. She may have a little notebook of her own prepared.” Octavia smiled. “A woman after my own heart, I think we will get along famously.” ---- The moment of respite passed by too quickly and Sentry, Jaina, Kroger, Wyll, and Astarion stepped out into the chaos and bloodshed of The Grand Design in progress yet again, Orpheus at their side, making their way deeper into the ruins of the upper city. As they passed the bloodied bodies of patriars, their faces still twisted into expressions of terror, Sentry was reminded of Tomi's favorite story of the night she'd slaughtered her family and come to the temple of Bhaal. He looked at every face and imagined each one a perfect mirror of Tomi's unsettling perfection with the last one standing gazing down in her blood stained gown and smirking. He had loved that story when he first came to the temple.

He could see as he looked beyond the bodies to the ruined buildings so many places he recognized. The restaurant he had gone with Enver on the first...well...he supposed...date. The book shop that had been such a disappointment with its lack of copper dreadfuls. Oh, Vanthampur Manor, he almost chuckled at the memory of the meeting he'd attended there with Enver, he wondered privately how that deal had panned out in his absence. Not well, he supposed, considering that Baldur's Gate was still very much not overrun with Zariel's forces and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Vanthampurs since he'd been back in the cities. “Damn, I kind of liked that lady too, she was funny.” “What are you talking about?” Jaina raised an eyebrow. “What lady?” “Oh, no, just something I was remembering, I haven't been to the upper city in a long time.” he replied as they picked their way across the bodies and debris. Every now and then a choke point of cultists cropped up in their way, but a quick call to arms brought the fury of their allies down. Sentry had to admit, he was particularly impressed by Rolan's contribution, staring with pride and respect at the murderous fire storm that charred their enemies to ash and swept them away. “We're nearly there...just a little further, I think one last climb.” Kroger informed them as he stared up at a tall tower, at the top of which a protrusion almost like a spinal chord hung. “I am very much not looking forward to the climb, though.” “The trick is not to look down.” Wyll gave him a dashing smile.

“Easy enough to say, but in practice...” The githyanki gulped as he watched Sentry begin his ascent, followed by Jaina. The climb wore on their already aching bodies and the height was dizzying. Sentry could feel the tell tale ache of an on-coming nose bleed and Jaina began to feel pity for the fish she and Tibs had caught and raised out of the ocean as children. Finally, they arrived on the platform atop the city, the ridges of the crown atop the brain. Kroger frowned as he watched a red dragon flutter atop the brain, landing, and Jaina and Sentry joined his displeasure at the sight of The Emperor upon its back. “Well, if it isn't the consequences of our actions.” Sentry chuckled with a shrug. “Well, let's make it the consequences of his instead.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice. “HEY! You don't have to do this! You really don't have to side with the gods damned Nether Brain just because Kroger freed Orpheus, you can still be on the right side!” The Emperor did not dignify Sentry with a response, only glared and clenched his fists, pods emerging from the ground. From one pod, A tall, good looking male orc with black hair streaked with silver stumbled, dressed in the clothing of a bard. From another, a handsome lean muscled Githyanki with dark hair and a silver armor. Still another yielded a tall, muscular woman with beautiful red hair and the garb of a knight. Another revealed a handsome young man with pale hair and blue eyes in paladin armor. “Is that what you were hoping for, be honest, I won't be upset.” Sentry whispered to Astarion, looking from him to the dream figure. “Is now really the time for that conversation?” Astarion raised a brow. The final pod opened to reveal a tall, slender old woman in paladin armor, her iron grey curls pulled back from her face and her golden eyes trained on Sentry. “You're right, it's not.” Sentry nodded solemnly and then turned to The Emperor with a look of fury. “Oh that is it! I told you how I felt about you impersonating my mum!” He drew his halberd. “I know everything about you.” The Emperor replied. “Your thoughts, your feelings, your weaknesses...and so do they.”

“Clearly not anymore if you would still choose Gerren to try and get a response from me!” Jaina scoffed, glaring at the orc. “We must get to the center of the crown, that portal over there!” Orpheus interrupted pointing towards the swirling portal in the distance. “Sentry, can you get him there safely if we have your back?” Wyll asked, looking to the tiefling. Sentry looked across the battle field from the dragon to The Emperor, to the strange clone beings. He breathed deeply and nodded. “Yes, I can do it...Hey, you guys be safe.” It took one second for all hell to break loose, Sentry and Orpheus began to make their way as quickly as they could towards the portal. The enemy forces made their way towards them, but Jaina called down an ice storm, the ground beneath them slicking and leading them to slip and fall prone, allowing the others to get the jump on them. The battle was a blur of spells and blades, Sentry could not let his focus slip, though, he had to get Orpheus to the crown. He had to see this through. He yanked Orpheus out of the way of a torrent of fire from the massive dragon, pulling him forward as fast as he could. The tiefling shielding the illithid with his body as the hurried forward, pushing through the portal. Not long after, Wyll and the others hurried in behind them, the party finally facing off against their final foe. “No....I cannot...Will not...submit!” The brain cried out. “Good thing we're not asking you to submit, we're just asking you to die.” Sentry shot back. The brain fought viciously, the very ground on which the party stood beginning to crumble around them. Jaina swiftly extended Umberlee's blessings to the others, saving them from an untimely plummet and allowing them a moment to find safety on more solid ground. Orpheus held focus on the nether stones as a barrage of spells and arrows assaulted the brain. Finally, it began to weaken, it began to falter. Its mind reached pleadingly for Sentry. “No...please...join me! Spare me! Become Absolute!”

“It's like I told The Emperor...” Sentry frowned. “I don't want to do that!” And he nodded to Orpheus, who tightened his hold on the power in his hands, his psionic power squeezing the last bit of life from the brain. And then...they were falling. Sentry closed his eyes tightly, bracing himself until he felt a pair of strong hands under his arms. “Did you think I'd let you fall, my friend?” Aylin asked with the kind of heroic smile Sentry certainly hoped he was capable of as well. “Now come, I would be a poor knight indeed if I could not bear two friends to safety.” She sailed towards Astarion's plummeting form, nodding to Sentry to reach out for him. Kroger closed his eyes, wondering who he could pray to now, in what he was sure was his final moment, when psionic energy bore him into the air, leaving him to gently float. Orpheus, nodded to him, floating on the same psionic energy by his side. Jaina closed her eyes and thrust out her hands, lacing her fingers with Wyll's as she called out to her goddess, the whipping winds of a storm over the harbor catching both of them and buoying them gently on the salty air. She opened her eyes and smiled, Wyll smiled back as the two of them sailed slowly and gently back to the ground. As the dust cleared, the party reunited at the harbor on the edge of the pier. Jaina could see her father and brother tending to the wounded near Umberlee's temple. Her mother and Flood Tide Grey administered last rites to the dead and dying. Umberlee's faithful had stood against the illithid empire and won the day, she thought. Kroger stood with Orpheus, gazing sadly at the prince as Lae'zel and Octavia approached alongside Kithrak Voss. “I'm sorry, your majesty...” Kroger murmured. “This was all just another way I didn't think things through.” “But still we thwarted The Grand Design, and still our people will rally around my memory. The sacrifice I made will not be in vain, Kroger of Creche K'liir. You and your kin must spread my name, spread what happened here, across the Astral Sea...it must be worth it.”

Kroger nodded solemnly. “I will...Should I....Should we leave you two alone?” He looked from Voss to Orpheus and both nodded solemnly, Voss' silver sword in his hand at the ready. Sentry smiled at Astarion, taking his hands gently. “We did it! We survived! We survived everything and now we're free.” He grinned. Astarion smiled back, squeezing Sentry's hands tightly. “We are...and I intend to enjoy every...” His expression shot to a wince of pain and then a look of terror. “No...” He winced, pulling back from Sentry. The tiefling could see the sun begin to burn his lover's skin. “Well, it was nice while it lasted...” Astarion lamented, turning and rushing towards the shadows. Sentry hurried after him, already undoing his cloak and preparing to shield Astarion with it. The city would rebuild itself, the friendships forged would remain. There was time now. Without parasites gnawing at their minds, without masters and gods looming over them, without a deadline counting down to their final hours every moment, for now, there was peace.

[angstenthusiast]

I just saw your post about your new immortal Chris AU and thought I'd send you an ask!

So how exactly does Chris become immortal???

Like my brain immediately flew to one of my AUs, but I'm pretty sure your AU doesn't work like mine does lmao

Thank you so much for the ask!! :D I'd be happy to answer this question for you!!

The way Chris becomes immortal is purely by accident. Completely unintentional. Him and Martin were, at the time, exploring some kind of forest looking for any possible cool creatures that they could pester Aviva to make them creature power suits for. They've both split up and are currently looking around in completely different areas of the forest to try and see what they can find.

As they're searching, Chris happens to stumble across a small grove/cave with some kind of large glowing gem (that's still embedded in rock) in the middle of it, sitting on some kind of pedestal made out of multiple different medium-sized rocks. Chris is curious and decides to take a closer look, and while doing so ends up with the crystal floating up off of it's pedestal once he gets close and fucking implanting itself into his chest.

Chris is in pain, starts fucking screaming as the crystal embedding itself into his chest causes green vein-looking things to start showing up across his entire body, and absolutely terrifies Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy, who he's still on a call with.

They frantically add Martin to the call and tell him to get over to Chris's location now, which he does. He finds Chris still in the grove, curled up on the floor in pain with the green vein-like things still all over his body and his eyes even glowing a bright green along with it.

He tries his best to help his brother in whatever way he can, even finding the crystal that's now become attached to his chest and is still glowing green, but before too long the pain begins to stop and the bright green veins showing up on Chris's skin disappear. His eyes also stop glowing too, so that's nice.

Anywho, Chris is still pretty incapacitated at the moment, so Martin gets him onto his Buzz Bike and drives him back over to The Tortuga as fast as he can. And long story short,,,, turns out that Chris is immortal now!! :O

Basically the crystal is what's giving Chis his immortality. It's stopping him from aging, heals any kind of injury he gets outside of things like scrapes and cuts, and it even prevents any kind of sickness that's too life-threatening.

At first it seems like a blessing, but over time it becomes apparent to Chris that it's much more of a curse than a blessing, as he watches all of his friends die and leave him there all alone, the only person sticking around being Zach Varmitech, who somehow found a way to enhance his lifespan by giving himself a robotic body. And to be completely honest, he's not exactly what'd you'd call "good company."

(Art by @wildkratts99)

[rancim]

6/14

I took a drive at 2 am and just got back, wheeled around the dumb empty master planned nothing I live in for a quarter of an hour and then sat in the car for another quarter of an hour in unblinking silence. The idea that nothing matters and that my future is fucked has never felt more pervasive, and I find myself doing new things that seem to seize me when my emotions peak in unexpected, wholly unfounded ways. I believe this is because recently I had a breakdown in which I said things emotionally, without foresight or rationality, which include:

-If there weren't a moral or ethical dilemma to killing yourself I would just end it right here

-There is absolutely nothing worth looking for in the future, I have nothing

-If I were honest with my feelings whenever you guys made me feel bad and got as angry and sad immediately like you all do instead of being measured and calm I wouldn't have a relationship with you, I wouldn't have a relationship with you, I wouldn't have a relationship with you

-I have no one in this house, no my life that has my back, all I had before was the dog and now she's dead and I have nothing

There's more, I know for sure, but those are the ones that come immediately to mind. Those are the ones that I thought about while driving along the silent roads that being awake at unreasonable times brings. And although I know that I won't kill myself, the ideation bothers me, that I would think and think and think about it. While driving I would imagine wrapping my car through a pole. While sitting in the car I would imagine taping the windows shut, block the exhaust pipe, fill a chimney starter with charcoal and choke on its fumes in the car. I scratched myself with my keys down my wrist, the dull teeth itching my skin uncomfortably, and try to imagine how much more painful a knife would be running down skin, splitting my veins open.

I just keep thinking this will pass this will pass this will pass this will pass this will pass.

I recently dated a woman that told me that she moved back in with her family because she was lonely. I didn't understand it at the time but didn't say anything and just held in my thoughts. We didn't work out and now I believe it can be attributed to a kind of detractive thinking on my end. I can't fathom why you would want to be around people anymore, or at the least those that know you. It feels lonely. Walking around aimlessly and anonymously also feels lonely. If I could live in a shack in the middle of nowhere, meeting my needs, and with no one next to me for miles, at this point in my life I'd be as happy as a clam.

I recently saw friends. I am in the habit of now drinking a lot in the company of friends, because I have set rules for myself. Gaining the habit of drinking alone would be dangerous, and thus I have constrained myself to drinking socially because I do not want to be an alcoholic. Everyone is now worried for me.

One friend said that even if I tried to disappear they would find me and support me. I didn't say anything but this is not the answer I wanted. I want no one to talk to me at this point. I want to run away with my books and my shows and my dumb fucking video games because I am tired, and I feel my future is shot, and I do not imagine myself as the type that can turn it all around haha, and I cannot imagine my life getting much better, and am desperately clinging onto the idea that it just can't get much worse than this.

Surely this is the lowest point, i tell myself, before recalling with vivid clarity the last time I said this to myself

Oh I am fucked i am fucked i am fucked fucked fucked everything's fucked

[bored2deathiswear]

The Minder side-eyed the other for a moment as he felt the proximity of the bear in the curve of his neck and shoulder. Could feel his breath and, that made him close his eyes for a split second.

Rolling his eyes back before shutting them, a small frown formed on his thin well-shaped eyebrows.

A shiver ran down his spine, not of fear...

This bear needed a muzzle, a collar, and a leash. Despite feeling the building up of a threat, for a split second the mind of the golden king wasn't there. A microsecond before he heard it.

The sound of ripping bandages, stretching the cloth's ligaments far and wide.

The thoughts completely evaporate into nothingness as he's pushed off the bed by the sheer strength of those enormous golden wings. In all their glory, magnificently open in all their majesty and power. It'd be a sight to behold if it didn't mean that Lucifer needed to act fast.

He knew the Man of all Mankind was a bomb waiting to explode even without his heavenly powers. Just the size was already something to respect, and the king was after all caught off guard.

The eyes of Lucifer turned to crimson and his vertical iris pale, horns ripped the hat as they grew. As if he hadn't created countless contingencies to control the other.

"You heavenly beast..." A stance of defense. "...you think you're the only one with surprises."

Snaking on the floor like Serpents, golden and glowing, chains materialized from seemingly nothing.

"You think I'd be dumb enough to not have ways to contain you?" Wasn't that the whole point?

He had promised, but mercy was so vulgar when used on someone like Adam. Hands reaching for the chains controlling them as the cuffs open like the mouth of a Cobra, moving exactly like an attacking one. Only to aim at the other's neck, hands, wings, and ankles, like biting.

There was a subtle burning feeling about them on the skin.

The shorter male felt his veins pulsing as Adam wasn't one to be brought down without a fight. A wild bear to bring indeed.

When the chains finally caught the other he'd be brought down, right at floor height, planted face first on it. Any movement the Rockstar of heaven made, the chains just tightened him down more, pulling his body to the floor in a vicious constrictor-like hug.

Heavy breathing, and chest heaving, even as a pure human, Adam was strong. His majesty composed himself, then took his hat and jacket, next rolling up his sleeves.

"Fuck me, Adam...why must you make everything so hard?" Even a promise he made to his daughter. Fixing his gloves by pulling the lower part more down. "Do you know what I am...? Besides a king?"

Anyone in hell knew, even his clothes told on him.

"A ringmaster. Do you know what ring masters do?" His feet stopped right in front of the other's face, lifting one to place on the side of the mask of the chained beast.

Now he was mad. Oh! He wasn't happy. His back was hurting, and even so, his pride. He had a punishment reserved for the first man exactly in the case of misbehavior like this.

His hand caresses the long-chained wing ever so lightly, just the fingertips sliding down one long feather.

"You couldn't just...behave, could you?"

A smirk.

"Why did I expect any different?" This said the caressing hand took a tight grip of the upper part of the wing. "I forgot to say..."

On the other hand, a golden big Scissor appeared.

"...besides shutting you in this room, I have a hierarchy for every one of these tantrums. You're accustomed to punishment aren't you, Adam?"

Throwing salt into the wound while brushing the unopened blades of the Scissor on his gripped wing.

"Well, first infringement, clipping, second, breaking, third, ripping. So maybe, just maybe, it's about time we behave, huh beasty?"

A beast tamer, the king of hell chuckled, pressing the boot further.

"You're under my supervision, Adam." It's said with a voice of warning, then leaning in some, his arm resting on his knee making his sole squeeze even heavier on the mask of the caged bird. "And I'll make sure to inflict that on your mind every day until it's impossible to forget, and trust me, I'll have all the time in the world to assure that the message has... sunk."

Velvety, an almost mellow whisper as the Scissor rubbed along the wing's upper bone.

"Nobody's coming." Almost inaudible. "Because you're impossible to find here. Your code, your very live force, is invisible. There are many mysteries in hell and I used each and every one of them to make sure that you will not leave this room until I decided such."

Maybe he was taking some pleasure from this...

@bored2deathiswear xxx

His eyes move to the side as he examines first the Muppety-like caricature then the grin on the caged bird's face. It makes him shrug, it makes him repeat in his head over and over again that it all has a point. And as if to mirror the energy he...smiles back.

A closed smile to provoke the other - or to hide that he's as unhappy about the situation, he won't give him that pleasure. - The king circles the bed still in the same pose.

Like trying to ignore his attitude, maybe even actually doing it. Deep down it's getting under his skin, but he got the upper hand in this and he'll make the most of it.

Stopping in front of the apple wallpaper that was ripped and touching it with his long-clawed fingers, his smile fell back to his serious expression. Now that the other couldn't see.

"It could have ended much worse for you. You could be dead, I could have shoved you in some hole and ignored your existence as your very mind betrayed you, and drop by drop you'd lose any iota of sanity."

Now turning back to look, the sound of the first man's talons on the wood made his brain twitch. Back to putting that mask and growing that lip twitching smile.

Step, step, step back to his position but this time climbing the wooden mattress to stare down at him more directly.

"You could be locked somewhere where you'd be tormented for so long you'd forget the notion of time and space. So yes, you should be grateful. More than grateful, to be precise, you should be kissing my feet right now in supplication."

That was a bit too much but watching the man relish in the chaos he made got under his skin.

Why did he do it? Why did he accept such a duty? Was it really out of fatherly love? Or was it something else? He didn't want to think about it just yet, such deep, dark thoughts were things he tried to shake to the back of his head, but for some reason always came back up when he talked with...him.

And now so close to him, as he lay splattered like that...did things to him.

All that babbling about Earth just made him roll his eyes. But it was the mention of someone coming to get him that really made him truly made him grin. Not just smile, grin.

"Oh Adam..." It was a tone filled with fake pity and self-victory. "...they'll never find you I made sure of that."

Followed by a chuckle, he leaned in like wanting to tell the other a secret.

"I made sure of it..." he murmured. "...Nobody is coming to get you. You're fucked."

It felt good. It felt really good. All this time Lucifer had kept himself controlled, being the bigger man, taking care of the needs of the guy, but he did not make it easy.

So he won't either.

There's an audible twitch to seeing the smile if only because it's the last thing he expects from presenting his mess with the energy an overly plump cat might exhibit when glancing over its shoulder once it has slid down shredded curtains. He's just fucking with him...has to be. Well it's not going to work! He'd already been doing the fucking and he's not about to relinquish that stance, even in the presence of the other's passing mirth. Scoffing instead as hell's overseer (and unfortunately his) stops to observe how the ribbons of wallpaper resemble a julienned apple with its print to provide the apple slices, he settles into his slouching...well until the dick walks right up onto the bed like he hadn't used a step ladder or some shit hidden below the frame.

Teeth flashing at the hinted threat, the man doesn't allow the other to interrupt his lounging past a half hearted kick towards where he'd already stepped around like that might deter him somehow from the overhead scrutiny. And when it doesn't he finally bites.

"Now, now...don't threaten me with a good time~ the good time being entombed far away from your clownish cunt, if you needed the clarity. Not so much on the foot thing, though." He adds with a growl of a grimace directed to said boots and their apparent licking need. Death really did seem the more invigorating option. Too bad he was too much of an alpha Chad with a huge cock to just up and die. His cross to bear, really.

Growing agitated with the standing around on his capsized bed, the man shifts up into a half sitting position- arm poised to sweep legs and knock the other off when the comment gives him a concerning pause. "...what do you MEAN they won't? Whatever you think you're doing, it's shit in comparison to any of the council's scrying eyes-" Right? All twenty pairs per ancient fuck was enough to install the heebie jeebies in anyone that caught sight of them, so there was no way the other just wiped his aura off the radar- right?

"Sh...shut your mouth, DECEIVER. They wouldn't leave me! I'm the fucking best! Greatest angel in heaven- fattest cock in existence! Kill count to put a sperm whale's sperm count to shame-" It's the responding grin that goads him most, and nails dig sharply into wood as he hoists himself up into a bear like hunker near the bastard's beaming, juncture between neck and shoulder twitching as he rises to dwarf him. "They're coming and you're going to eat ten thousand more of those spears they slammed you down here with, you self righteous little PRICK!" And it's with that admission that his so called mending wings snap free of the surgical cuts in the back of his robe showing they were much more mended and not at all bandaged as previously thought. And he takes a lot of pleasure in clapping them hard together and back again to bully the other off the bed with a resounding manic grin.

"You're the one that's fucked."

[joyridingmp3]

you ever look at your younger siblings and realise that you'd give anything and everything for them to be happy????

[jvzebel-x]

💝 circa 2015 ~ present 💝

🦋

when people first heard me speak, for years, the first thing they'd note was the crystal English, clearly spoken&carefully grammatically groomed. the way i couldn't code-switch verbally, the split second&pause to blink(&translate). as a child, it made me furious because it marked me apart as much as the translucent skin no one could ever explain, no matter how much sun i ever got, thick blue veins pulsing under skin that could never hide them regardless of how brown my skin turned. my mother raised me differently than she raised her other children: i am her eldest daughter, the one who stole her beauty in the womb&changed her life forever, the miracle baby she was never supposed to have that grew next to an ovary that needed to be removed during pregnancy. there have always been expectations, rules for the trade i made in utero, the very first deal with the devil i ever sealed to see daylight. every time she beat the mispronunciation out of me, she reminded me that it marked me as stupid, as ignorant, as a lazy islander, just like it had marked her, &every time someone noted my speech, the unspoken part was how they weren't expecting it from me. now, as an adult, it makes me furious because people think that my assimilation is a compliment, not a scar, &twice as much because my accent only comes out with the fury&proves the stereotype right.

the silence from either side of my family is deafening, the way that silence is so often heavier than any word that could be said over a staticky phone line, the same way distance is so often so much more than just measurements in how the crow flies. twelve miles is almost nothing, but a childhood believing your parents are both God&Devil can turn twelve miles into levels of hell, if you do it right. an angry mother with a score to settle can't be contained by an island, an ocean, millions of miles, or the alleged freedom that comes with aging out&moving away, &sometimes silence is the only way to say that. sometimes, "i'm sorry this is happening to you," is the only way someone can say, "i can't let this happen to me, too." &"mom&dad will be visiting some time soon," means, "if mom finds out i'm letting you crash on my couch, she will kill me." sometimes, "call me if you need anything else," really just means, "anything else, anything else, but this." but when i survived&my brother hugged me, when he saw the aftermath of the year&the place i'd found to live, after all, that silence was only apologies, only the silence of a lifetime of just trying to survive&trusting each other to understand that-- &i do.

i was raised in polarity in every way: my parents called our neighborhood "Nu'uanu" not "Kalihi", as if the name change would change the three police stations or the kam4 gang colours or the kpt knife fights or the meth ziploc baggies. this subtle mental gymnastics trick was one of the few things they could ever agree on, but none of their kids ever agreed from either side of the divided household. i was raised with a father, but not by one: i was the sacrificial lamb, the golden goose fated to die full of potential the second i opened my mouth to prove it didn't matter how much i looked like my father when i sounded just like his wife, had my nose in a book just like his wife, thought i was smart just like his wife, had a smart mouth just like his wife, took a hit just like his wife. i was my father's least favourite child, but my mother's best friend, &this worked out for both of them, in the end, because they could each blame me on the other.

every bottle of darkened sauce or infused oil i've ever had, i've refilled with water to get every drop of it out-- just like my mother before me, &her mother before her, this is the only thing i know of cooking from my mother, this act of careful conservation&the collection of mismatched bottles under the sink. i spent hours&hours&hours of my life in the kitchen with her, but cooking was an art she'd taught herself, a sacred craft she'd learned on her own. cooking was how my mother illustrated her love for her family, in feeding her sons who could&would eat plate after plate&shower her in compliments the entire time, &her husband who was only ever happy with her around dinnertime. cooking was my mother's sacred&special place, &hers alone: i was only allowed to watch, &expected to keep her company while she made magic out of food stamps&air. the first time she saw my spice collection once i'd moved out, she laughed, she was so shocked: she just had never thought i was the type to want to cook without a family to feed.

it isn't always about what's there-- sometimes, it's about what's not, &what you'll do to fill the space.

[somersetmummy]

(A/N): This fic takes place immediately following book 1 chapter 11 (after being rescued by Sam from Sofia's closet). 

- I promise the Robin lust that is part three is coming soon! -

Series/Pairing: The Nanny Affair (M!Sam Dalton x MC Katie Hide)

Original characters - all property of PB: Katie Hide (MC), Sam Dalton, Mason & Mickey Dalton, Jenny Blake, Robin Flores (part 3 only)

New characters: (present in part 3) Serena-Rose Warren, Tessa Finch, Lucinda Hansen

Rating/Content warning: PG13, a little bit of lust & desire but nothing graphic

Word Count: 1199

Summary: Katie prepares for a night out with the girls but is distracted by a certain roommate...

- Scroll to the bottom for bonus text message between Katie & Jenny -

Find Part One here. 

Part Two -

When Friday evening swiftly arrives, Katie tried to distract herself from the excitement building within by throwing herself into her love of cooking and creating an overly elaborate meal for the boy's dinner. While they don't particularly need a full roast dinner with all the trimmings, she's in far too good a mood to care. As is usually the norm when she cooks dinner, the boys sit at the counter half watching - half playing, keen to be around her as much as possible.

There's a certain calm which they feel when they're with her, safe and warm. They'd spent so much time bounced between family, babysitters and tutors over the last few years they relished the opportunity to be around someone so steady and secure, plus she just effortlessly understood them and knew how to put their needs first.

"Suck it Mason!"

Mickey's cheer startles her from her culinary daze as he slams down the last of the cards in his hand with vigour, winning the nail-biting game of snap the boys are playing.

"Mickey, language...please."

Katie glares at him to show that she's serious but can't completely stifle the grin underneath, threatening to give away the fact that she's humoured by the intensity of their game.

Of the twins, Mickey has always been the most energetic and animated, he rarely holds anything back and doesn't take any prisoners. Mason on the other hand is a much more sensitive soul, wise beyond his seven years and far more observant about the world around him. They're a real split of Sam's personality and a constant reminder of all the things she loves about him.

Before Mickey can apologise, the elevator dings sparking confusion in the kitchen. Katie pulls her phone out of her jeans back pocket to check the time. 5 o'clock on the dot. Equally puzzled and completely in sync with one another, the boys hold a ceasefire in their game as they all turn to look to the hallway waiting to catch a glimpse of the intruder.

Her heart flips as Sam saunters into the room, eyes sparkling and a wide smile already on his face as he takes in the scene before him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd made it home this early, but something had changed recently, something which made him long to be at home, long to play with his boys, long to live a little. And then he locked eyes on that something. Katie.

"Well if it isn't my three-favourite people."

The sincerity in his voice paired with the adoring look he gives is enough to make Katie's knees go weak. The boys are clearly oblivious to the fact that his fiancé should probably be above her on his list of favourite people but in that moment she's happy to take the compliment, nonetheless.

"What are you doing home so early?"

Sam makes his way over to the kitchen, ruffling the boy’s hair before slipping casually onto the bar stool next to Mickey. The boys in return beam at him, revelling in the novelty of having two grown-ups to shower them with attention.

"You didn't think I'd forget your big night out, did you? I wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to get yourself ready without having to chase these two clowns around."

He winks at her before turning back to the boys. Mason throws Sam a look of mock offence at being labelled a clown, Mickey on the other hand smiles proudly, totally owning it.

After putting the boys to bed, Sam settles himself in the living area, pacing around unable to stay still. Nervous energy tingles through his veins as he waits impatiently for Katie to emerge, already letting his mind run away with the less than innocent images of her in his head of how she'll look when she appears.

Nothing could've prepared him for what he was about to see as she emerged like a butterfly from its cocoon, transformed.

With the wind knocked out of him, his eyes trail over her capturing every detail to recall later. He admires her delicate curves wrapped in a form fitting deep blue sequinned mini dress, so dark it almost looks black until it catches the light and a blue hue shimmers, just like when the moon hits the sea on a clear night. He immediately wishes he could trail his hands along the flimsy spaghetti straps falling gently over her shoulders, crossing over her back revealing the barely-there rear of the dress.

As she confidently flicks her golden blonde hair it smoothly drips over her shoulders like honey, long soft curls bouncing just below her breasts. Her sweeping fringe ever so slightly obscuring her intoxicating blue eyes which sparkle back at him full of conviction.

The whole look gives her an air of unfaltering confidence which he's never seen on her before. This may be the most turned on he's ever been from just looking at her, so much so that his hands seek refuge in his pockets, untrusted not to grab her at the first opportunity.

"Wow, you look incredible!" He throws her a mischievous smile and continues, "If I'd known you'd look this good I wouldn't have been so eager for you to have the night off!"

Noticing the fire in his eyes, she feels conflicted as she allows herself to imagine what might happen if she were to stay at home tonight. The air crackles between them as they hold each other's gaze a little longer than they should.

"Thank you, I'd forgotten how much I like dressing up and looking good!"

The fire in his eyes extinguishes and leaves behind warm sincerity, a small smile crosses his lips as he finally builds the courage to move closer.

"You always look good. I'm particularly fond of your jeans and t-shirt look, but yes, this look..."

Unable to finish, the fire returns to his eyes as they're drawn down to her legs which seem to go on for days, the delicate sequinned dress barely falling past her upper thighs. The intensity of his gaze thrills her.

Taking as much strength as it would to pull two magnets apart, she finally steps away to grab her purse. Ever the gentleman, Sam picks up her jacket holding it out for her. Unable to resist, he takes the opportunity to lean into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. She smells like a breath of fresh summer air, flowers and sweetness dancing in the breeze.

Her spine tingles as his lips graze her neck and his fingers gently fondling soft tendrils of her hair to move them out of the way. His whispered words make the hairs on her skin stand to attention.

"God, I wish you were mine tonight, you don't know what you're doing to me."

The indignant ring of the penthouse intercom breaks the spell they find themselves in and she begrudgingly steps away exhaling shakily.

"That'll be my cab."

He watches her sashay over to the elevator, the sway of her hips captivating him once again. Slowly she turns to face him, winking wickedly as the doors are almost closed.

"Don't wait up."

TAG list: @shewillreadyou @txemrn @silma-words @thefrenchiemama @secretaryunpaid @sfb123

- BONUS-

Messages between Katie and Jenny while Katie prepares dinner for the boys.

[nessamaurice]

Simple, Ch. 10 (Loki x F!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Tony and the Avengers are in desperate need of something like a “babysitter” to have an eye on Loki and teach him “how to human”. He decided to stay on Midgard over the dungeons of Asgard as punishment for his deeds in New York. That’s where you swoop in. A simple receptionist at the Avengers compound. You have to share an apartment in the compound with Loki and damn, he’s a really tough nut. With your open and kind character it seems that you are slowly cracking his shell. But suddenly things are getting twists that will change your life and your relationships there irreversibly.

Story rating: M

Chapter trigger warnings: flashback/PTSD

Words: 2615

10

As you slowly limped onto the Quinn Jet Loki wrapped his soft, green cape around you. Inside you almost fainted fell asleep the moment you sat down. You woke up every now and then; when Loki picked you up, as he laid you down on a bed in the medical wing of the compound. Eventually you woke up. You blinked into the dimmed light and looked around. Your gaze stopped as you saw a small tube leading into the thick, blue veins on your hand. Immediately the heart monitor next to announced your rising heart rate. In the other corner of the room were Tony sleeping on a couch and Loki on an armchair, long legs casually stretched out. The beeping woke them up but Bruce was already by your side to stop you from tearing out the tube and calmed you down. You started to panic and wanted to rip everything off your body, hoarsely screaming "No, no, no! Not again! No, please god, no!" Bruce came running over to you.

"Y/N, please calm down. Look at me. Okay? Look at me!" He stretched out his arms, palms towards you, as a sign of being unarmed and not willing to harm you. "Everything's okay. You are safe. You are back at the compound."

You managed to focus on him and your heart rate slowly calmed down again. You blinked a few times and some tears ran down your cheek. Bruce sat down next to your knees, moving really slowly to not startle you. He explained every action he planned to do so you'd know what was going to happen.

"Fine. I need to observe your physical state okay? In this infusion bag right here are just some analgetics, uh, sorry, pain relievers, and antibiotics, all picked and mixed by myself. There are no meds that would influence your mind in any way. I made a new access and didn't use the one they had forced into you. There was no second you being alone, whether it was me, Tony or Loki who stayed by your side, at least two of us. There are just these three electrodes that watch your heart rate. That's it. I haven't done anything else while you slept. I wanted to wait until you're awake. You've slept for almost two days now. That's great! Your body and your mind got some urgently needed rest after all that. Besides the obvious terrible things, can you tell me how you feel? Is there maybe some not visible, physical injury we need to pay attention to first?"

The way he spoke to you, how he moved, his peaceful face helped you to calm down. He really knew how to not-upset someone. You swallowed hard and had to retch a bit because your throat was just so dry like a desert. Bruce handed you a glass of water and after a few small sips (the water tasted so fresh and pure, it was a bracing pleasure for your body) you cleared your throat. You looked at him and at Tony and Loki who stood a few steps away from your bed.

"Thank you. Really, thank you. I knew you would find me, though I wasn't sure. I feared I... I'd stay there forever..." Tears filled your eyes again, your voice getting weak. Tony wasn't able to restrain himself any longer and rushed to your side. He took your hand and squeezed it gently.

"Of course we found you, honeybun. I will keep you safe, we will. I will not lose you again..." He turned a bit insecure. "So... you remember?" He asked with a slightly begging expression. He wished it so hard to be true.

You shared a small smile. "Yes. The only good thing that happened in there. It was hurtful and violent, but they brought back my whole memory. It completes itself from time to time, I get new... flashes. But I finally remember my childhood. Dad, Mom,..." you almost choked on your words, "You. I looked forward to every time you'd visit us. I wanted to stay with you after my parents were murdered, but I was intubated and couldn't speak, then I was put to coma and when I woke up...", you started sobbing and covered your mouth with your free hand, unintentionally tugging on your tube, "I had forgotten everything. I forgot you."

Tony shuffled a little closer and pulled you into a gentle hug while you cried into his shirt. After some time you looked up and saw Loki standing in the same spot as before, arms crossed, brows furrowed (one slightly higher than the other).

"Loki. I saw you. You were in my cell, wearing my headphones. How?" You wiped your nose on the back of your hand and someone handed you a tissue.

"I...", he started but didn't know how to continue, looking across the floor as if he would find the words laying there.

"Silver tongue turned to lead?" Tony couldn't help to joke.

"Shh, shut up Tones, give him time to think." You batted Tony's arm and regretted it the same second because the vascular access on your hand got pushed a bit deeper into your skin.

Seeing how you hushed Tony to let him sort out his words made him smile a little. He came a bit closer.

"There is something with you. An unknown power. Somehow we were able to create a mental connection that continued over the distance. I felt... I wasn't able to help because everything we could do was to use this technology to make your bracelet work again. I wanted to listen to the music you liked and... I thought of you. Then suddenly I saw you sleeping there."

Tony took the word and continued, "The information you gave him helped us to reduce the possibilities where you were to a few buildings. We split up and where already on the way to those few buildings when JARVIS finally could locate and destroy the virus keeping your tracker from working we could come down to one building. It was only active for a short time, I turned it down immediately again, I thought a suddenly green glowing gem would cause some unwanted curiosity. It wasn't long enough to locate you exactly, but the indicated area was enough to exclude the other possibilities we already had. Your strange connection with him saved us an enormous amount of time and you some trouble I guess."

You were left speechless. Then it hit you; you remembered what they discovered about you. You forgot that for a few “peaceful” minutes.

"Um, Loki, is this... normal? Do you build such connections easily?"

"Well, usually not. If the development of some kind of relationship is not supported by something like Seidr it takes a long amount of time. I was... surprised, to say the least. This is something I want to investigate, but not now. Not until you are feeling better and strong enough for such activities."

"I think I know why it worked." You started hesitantly. "I... They... I can..." You didn't know how to tell. You took a deep breath. "I can feel other's feelings when I touch them. And I can make them feel what I feel. With the palms of my hands."

Everyone looked at you with the same blank face.

"What is wrong with me? Why can I do this? It started after they electrified my brain, I couldn't do it before. They shaved me directly after they dragged me into their awful lab and stuck electrodes here", you pointed at the shaved areas on your head, "like they knew exactly what was going on and what they wanted to achieve. This bastard that called himself a doctor said his father watched me from the beginning and he already knew about this. How is this even possible??"

"Wait, what? They watched from the beginning, what does that mean?" Tony's look turned from soft to serious.

You told them a rough outlining of what you were told and what you could recall. That you were being watched because that doctor thought you would be useful, that he sent a Soldier to collect you, how he changed his mind... You were surprised you didn't had to cry while retelling parts of your story. You weren’t able to tell them everything. Not yet. At the end you took a moment to let it sink in and turned to Tony.

"Tones, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't because of you that we were attacked. I'm sure you felt guilty for what happened, that my Mom had to die because she was your sister. But that's not true; she had to die because... because I... was her daughter." You realized the truth of those words as you said them out loud. You pressed a hand on your mouth to dull the sobbing that followed. Tony pulled you into a tight hug but quickly loosened it a bit regarding the numerous cuts on your body.

"Stop saying that bullshit, Honeybun. She had to die because some sick psycho sent a brainwashed marionette to do so, there are no other reasons. Okay? Did you hear me?" He pushed you slightly backwards to make direct eye contact. "Do you copy?"

A broken smile decorated your face because you suddenly remembered how you played space ship and mission control and nearly every third sentence was 'Do you copy?' followed by a crackling sound, imitating radio communication.

"Copy." You whispered, wiping away the tears from your cheeks. You looked into the face of the man in front of you, the last bit of your family. A face that brought up so many beautiful childhood memories. You smiled at him and laid your hand on his cheek. You let the warmth from your chest flow over to him. "Uncle Tones, I am so, so happy to have you back." You watched him mirroring your smile, tears filling up his eyes. You felt how your happiness now mixed up with his relief that you were still alive and that his sister and her husband didn't had to die because he was not cautious enough. You looked at him softly and tilted your head to the side as you said "You look tired, old man. You should get into your basket real soon." You turned to Bruce "Bruce, I want to say thank you so, so much. I wouldn't be here and so well looked after without you. But you look dead ass tired, too. You should get some sleep as well. Maybe Loki can stay with me?"

"Of course, Y/N" Loki acknowledged. 

Hesitantly Tony and Bruce agreed to get to bed and left you alone with Loki. He hadn't moved, standing at the foot of your bed, arms crossed. You patted on the free space on your bed to invite him to take a seat. After a few seconds he followed and sat down next to you. He seemed a bit stiff, not knowing how to act, so you touched his hand. "Loki, I wanted to say thank you. For everything. I am very lucky that we met. I will always be in your debt."

With those words he turned his head to you, looked you so deeply in the eyes that it sent thousands of shivers down your spine and said, "You will never be in my debt, Y/N. It is the other way round. You are very perceptive and very kind, that is a precious combination. You easily notice how your opposite feels and if they don't feel good you want to change that immediately. I was so rude to you before you... disappeared and all you wanted to do was to ease my own burden. I am so sorry."

He couldn't look into your face any longer so he stared at his hands, one covered by yours (which was a lot smaller than his), brows furrowed. Waves of regret and shame flooded your heart and you felt his deep vulnerability. You realized he was capable of such heavy emotions that it was almost unbearable and you wondered how he could still stand up straight carrying around all this guilt, despair and loss. He still couldn't look into your eyes, being reminded of just another awful mistake he made. You had to stop that right now, so you concentrated on your own feelings. Your caring, your gratitude. You watched his features closely and your happiness increased exponentially as he lost the fight to hold back a smile. But all of a sudden he pulled away his hands, stood up and turned his back to you.

"I... I am sorry, what did I do wrong? I meant you no harm, ...I ..."

"Don't." Loki interrupted.

"...Sorry?"

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault. It's just that I... I am too wary. I don't trust others easily, especially if it seems to be simple. My alarm bells ring and I can't mute them."

"Oh. I kinda know that feeling. With me it is the other way round. I don't want to trust others so fast but I always end up doing just that. I think I don't even have alarm bells. It's okay. I just wanted to let you know how I feel about you and that you can relax around me."

"I know that. I know that you don't want anyone to feel worthless or miserable and if it is in your power, you try to change that by being kind and caring. You do that because you know exactly how that feels and you don't want anybody else to feel like this."

His open and direct words hit you like an arrow. You never thought about it but it was crystal clear just as he spoke. You tried to swallow down the tears, "How... how do you come to think so?"

"Because I am a perceptive person as well. But I used it mostly to my own advantage. I admire your kindness. I did not realize it that moment, but retrospectively I can see you always had a connection to your powers. It was when we had this fight and I disappeared. You touched my face and suddenly I felt those gentle emotions. It was like... you were digging out a part of me that I consider as weak but you... appreciated it. That was too much for me in that moment. This certain part is hidden for a reason, weakness is not something to be shown where I come from. All I learned is to be strong, glorious, victorious. Everywhere, all the time. But in this short moment, you showed me something different. That this part has a right to exist. And that you could be the person I can show it to. And then my trust issues kicked in. They still do..."

It took you a moment to process his pure honesty before you could gather some words, "Wow. You truly are perceptive. And you are right, I am the person you can show it to. I always try not to judge anybody. I understand that this will take its time, but I'd totally appreciate every try. You are someone very special and I want you to see that."

Loki smirked and simply said, "I will try my best to break my habits. I started to do so already." He walked over to the light switch next to door. "But now you should get some rest. Don't worry, I will be right here." He grabbed a cushioned chair from the corner and dragged it next to your bed. He made himself comfortable and put his heels up on the furthest corner of your bed. Softly he added, "You will never be alone again.", just before you drifted away.

Taglist: @it-jinxed-us, @humbledarkness, @lunawitch19,@redryderdesigns@rvgrsbrns

​

[straightouttaneptune]

Goodbye

Pairing: Thor x reader

Warning: Angst, Sizzling angst. Character death. Avengers: Endgame. (That movie alone is a warning). My baby Thor crying...

Summary: As a member of the original 7, you saved everyone in Endgame. Natasha and Tony are still alive and they get to have their happy endings, but can Thor?

A/N: Hey! I found this sitting in my drafts, so thought I'd share the angst while writing the requested fics. Hope you like it, it's my first angst with Thor... Italics are memories/past, and normal text is the present.

———————————————————————

He knew. He knew that mortals had their lives limited. He knew that their bones were as fragile as glass. There weren't a lot of situations where they'd survive after just one stab of a dagger.

That you'd pass away much earlier than he would. 

But seeing you fight side by side with the Avengers, with him, he must've deceived himself, because you no longer inhaled or exhaled the oxygen in the atmosphere. Your soft eyelids were shut closed like a veil concealing your astonishingly beautiful irises. Your heart failed to beat any longer, your skin paled from the lack of blood. Your body laid limp yet weightless on the white satin, holding a bouquet of baby blue peonies close to your chest. 

"My dove, you said these were your favorite?" Thor pointed at the bucket full of blue peonies. You were visiting a local flower shop with your love, thinking it would be nice to light up the compound with them.

"Indeed they are." You smiled at the peonies, mentally tracing the outline of each petal. Thor was entranced, wordlessly observing you and the light that seems to radiate off of you.

"May I ask why?" Thor secured his hand behind your back. You leaned into his touch, moving your gaze up at him.

"They remind me of you."

He watched with hooded eyes as Tony Stark closed the polished wooden casket, embellished with golden designs. Fit for a queen. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, even after they lowered you down into the Earth.

Everyone in the entire world insisted on burying you into some sort of landmark, seeing as you died a hero. But it has always been your wish to find peace under the green hills of the Avengers compound. 

He could hear quiet sobbing from the rest of the team, even from Avengers like Natasha and Bucky, both trained not to show sentiments. Thor was in a state of denial, but a part of him knew that you weren't coming back. That part of him made tears flow out of his eyes like a never-ending waterfall. 

The whole Avengers were there, from the 6 of the original 7 to everyone else that joined in as time progressed. And they were all here because of you. Thor didn't know whether to be proud or depressed. In fact, he didn't know what to do with himself now that you weren't there to pull his hand places.

When everyone left him in the pit of darkness, you stayed, holding up a flaming lamp that became his only light, bringing him back to life. Asgard had fallen, his family and his best friends were all gone, but he had you. 

But you weren't here anymore. Your flame has met its end.

"I am... inevitable."

You stared right at the mad man's eyes, gritting your teeth. The wind pushed away locks of hair that fell out of your ponytail, having Thanos clearly see the woman who was about to destroy him.

"Hm." You blew a puff out of your nose as you watched him snap his fingers just to be met with nothing. His confused expression didn’t last long, confusion turning into surprise when he looked over at you.

You raised your hand up, all of the infinity stoned placed into Tony's gauntlet that was strewn on the ground. He laid a few feet away from you unconscious. Everyone else was either being overpowered or unconscious, and you couldn't ask anyone else to do it anyways.

Energy coursed through your veins, briefly feeling like your arms might fall off. You grunted, feeling the whole extent of the powers in the stones. 

Your eyes glimmered with determination, a content smile gracing your lips. 

"Goodbye." 

Your fingers snapped, and it was the end. Overbearing amount of power coursed through your merely-mortal body, making every system crash down in a split second. Millions of emotions ran through your mind. But you didn't feel hatred or feel like you were forced into doing this. For the first time, you really saved the world. You finally felt worthy of the title hero. 

The first one to wake was Natasha a few feet away. “Oh, Y/N." She ran up to you, helping you rest against the concrete. 

Your back crashed on the broken piece of concrete, legs barely helping you up. Your slightly blurred vision spotted Thor, running towards you and throwing away his Stormbreaker somewhere. The rest all piled later, staring at you in disbelief. Some were already crying. 

"You-you did it, Y/N." You tried to console her, seeing the tears glossing her eyes. She took your hand in hers, pressing her lips up to your knuckles. She moves aside to let Thor talk to you, falling into Clint's arms as soon as she let go of you. 

"My dove." Thor's callused hands felt nice on your hot cheeks, closing your eyes and leaning into it. "No, no. My love, please. Look at me." He cupped your cheeks as you opened your eyes lazily, feeling slightly buzzed like sleep was inviting you to it with open arms. 

"I love you." You whispered out, barely able to stay conscious. But you'll fight it for as long as you could. 

"I love you, oh, I love you, Y/N." Thor cradled your head, tears falling freely onto your hair. He repeated his words as if doing so would somehow help you.

You couldn't form any more words, but you could raise your hand up to his jawline, tracing them, feeling his beard prick your fingers and quietly thinking about how you'll probably never be able to do so again.

"I will meet you again in Valhalla, sweetheart.” He tried his best to smile, reassuring you that this wasn’t the end. “You're okay." He said to you, but more to himself.

He took your other hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly as you slipped away. He shook violently as your head tilted, life leaving your eyes, looking away into nothingness. "No, no, no..." 

Valkyrie placed her hand on Thor's shoulder that was still shaking vigorously. His head fell and he cried into your shoulder, his hand still clutching yours. 

Not a word came out of anyone, just Thor repeating your name with thunder cracking in the fuming sky.

"Thor." He turned around slowly at the low voice, Valkyrie standing there in her tailored black suit. "The funeral's over. We're going to visit her memorial." 

When Thor didn't bother moving, she walked over beside him and looked down at her grave with him. "She was an extraordinary woman." 

"Guys! I made cookies!" Your sing-song voice echoed through the Avengers floor at Stark tower, immediately attracting the Earth's protectors to the kitchen.

"Y/N's cookies?!" Sam and Clint almost ran into the kitchen at the same time, but you'd say Sam was a tiny bit faster this time.

"They look delicious, my dove." Thor wrapped his arm around your middle from behind, making you giggle in surprise.

"Mm. Want one?" You beamed at him, holding up a chocolate chip cookie to his mouth. He smirked at you playfully before taking a bite, earning some whines from the other Avengers who were eager to eat your cookies. 

"Okay, okay. I'll put it on the counter." As soon as you placed the cookies on the marble counter, they were gone in an instant. 

"Oh no, you don't!" 

"Try me, Legolas."

"Oh my god, you can't even digest the food you fucking toaster!"

"Many apologies, but Miss Y/N's cookies are far too delici-"

"Turn him off!" 

"Drown him in rice." 

Thor chuckled at the fiercest fighters on Earth fighting over his love's cookies childishly when he had a carton of them Y/N made especially for him where they couldn't see.

"You are extraordinary, my dove." Thor spun you around and pressed his lips to yours lovingly, wrapping you up in his affection. His hands traced the curve of your waist as he deepened the kiss, making everyone else scramble away from the kitchen.

"She was," Thor replied, his throat and nose gave off that burning sensation before thick drops of tears flowed down his cheeks again.