#SCOTT BEING A MIXTURE OF “Oh god oh god” and “OH NO HE'S HOT”

[thebearme]

OH WAIT MY DUMBASS FORGOT TO ALSO ASK BTW IF YOU HAVE ANY HEADCANONS ON CAMERON OR GWEN

Imma just gonna start with Cam first, and let me just tell you Cameron I projected the most on because even after my "ihatehim no ilovehim" phase so idk maybe some of this could be out of character srry.

I imagine Cameron is south African, particularly Zimbabwean.

His a walking nerd emoji.

The only pass time Cam had was to draw bugs. So he's REALLY GOOD at drawing bugs. Only bugs. Everything else looks like it's from the diary of a wimpy kid.

Cam not that keen of physical touch but slowly getting used to it cuz of Mike. Mike also trying to remember that everyone is open on surprise hugs.

Idk why but with Zoey and Cam's relationship I just think of Carly and Freddie but without the crush.

Gwen and Cam would have art trades together.

Cam got the dryess hands in existence because of the amount of hand sanitizer he uses. OCD GAND RISE UP!

Im saying this now but Cam and B would TOTALLY VIBE TOGETHER!! i just don't know their intentions are yet so dont ask..

Lightning and Cam would have hangout if not for the cheating thing.

Duncan once asked Cam if he can draw a mural of his pet spider Scruffy.

Sam would take it as his personal duty to teach Cam in the way of being a gamer. By teaching him the Zelda timeline and the lore of FNAF. May god rest Cam soul after that.

Cam doesn't not do well with the more active people in Mike's system like Svetlana and Manitoba. They try to be gentle with him but they just don't know their strengths and Manitoba canonically eats dirt so there's only so much they can hangout.

Vito doesn't vibe with nerds but he does occasional try to back him up if he's getting bullied. ONLY if Vito himself isn't bullying Cam.

Cameron actually has the best relationship with Chester. He loves hearing history and old facts and Chester loves the excuse to chat someone's ears off.

Mal and Cam have more of a neutral relationship with each other but I can definitely see Mal thinking his just some weakling nerd until Cam shows him he knows how to make the Demon core.

Cam and Mike started a hate Scott club. Although Cam feels alil bad about, he tends to be reminded of why they started this club every time they go back to their cabin.

Cam once witnessed Scott use the bathroom without washing his hands. And never liked him since.

There was one time between season, Mike, Cam and Zoey were going on a little road trip. Z & M both ask what song should they play next? Cam said he doesn't know any songs so maybe just play the Ice cream truck theme. And that's when they find out HOW sheltered this boy is.

I would get into the nitty gritty but Cam's mom is NOT a good mom. Zoey and Mike have beef with her (Zoey trys to have the benefit of the doubt and said she just too over protective while Mike legit DONT like her.)

They both make sure that Cam gets as much outside time as possible and learn to have a life outside of his house.

When Cam goes to college is going aboard as an entomologist.

When Cameron first came on TD he didn't know what to wear because obviously he's never been outside so it a mixture of hot and cold clothes. Bro don't know fashion but it's his outfit changes in All Stars.

He's wearing a puffer jacket because it reminds him of a sleeping bag and makes him cozy + it has a cooling system inside thanks to B.

[finclgicls]

leah was pretty sure she wasn't being able to think at that moment, much less be coherent, or even detect his tone. her entire body felt unbelievably hot, from the tips of her curling toes to her cheeks, and the temperature only raised as the man explored her body further. she should have said no, she should have not agreed with all of that, but it would be hard to deny how willing she was when she felt wet and hot between the legs, when her own body betrayed her mind when scott was someone she knew could teach her things and touch her body in ways jacob could never—would she feel bad about it once it was all over? would she feel ashamed for behaving the way she was doing, with her coach nonetheless? would she even be able to look him in the eye the next day? would he still want her to be his head cheerleader once this was all over and done with?

the brief rush of doubt was quickly brushed aside by his words, completely forgotten by the time he slid inside, making one of her hands grip his bicep, nails digging into his skin.

"n-no," she managed to utter between whimpers, "never," she moaned. a new and incredible sensation rushing over her. leah was as inexperienced as they came. she was raised to focus on her career, to be a good girl, and to just think about anything but boys. so she skipped a lot of experiences in order to reach where she was. she didn't drink, never done drugs, she practiced, studied, rinse, repeat. she was good, right? "—oh god," prayers escape her lips, because it just felt so good. her entire body reacts shamelessly. the mixture of his finger in her tight pussy and his lips on her skin made for a delectable experience. "more," she was panting, she felt good, she needed to feel better.

Oh, but that explained so much. The realization dawned on Scott as Leah managed to stammer out a few words that he was able to piece together. No wonder she was all but putty in his wandering and capable hands. Leah had never been touched like that before. She probably never even been spoken to in the manner Scott was doing. His deep, masculine timbre describing such filthy things that he wanted to do to her while his hand was squeezed between her soft thighs while his fingers touched her so obscenely.

No wonder she was so flustered and overwhelmed with the desire he had ignited in her inexperienced body. Scott was certain this was the first time he ever heard Leah curse in his presence. And he positively loved hearing the usually very correctly behaved girl whimper out such profanity while he toyed with her wet and virgin cunt.

“It’s such a shame for such a pretty little pussy like this to go unused.” The man cooed mockingly, tracing her wet opening with the tips of his fingers before easing a single digit inside the tightness. Her wet walls closing around his finger with a hot grip as he forced them open to slip in knuckle-deep. “I don’t have to look to know it is. Everything about you is pretty, Leah.” He said in between soothing kisses as he pumped his finger in and out of her. “Have you ever had anyone touch you like this?”

[zan-the-second]

Hi! Your stories are amazing and it's what got me in the fandom! I actually drew one of the scenes of SN&GL: Chapter 2. Hope you like it! 😊Keep up the good work!

I AM SCREAMING THIS LOOKS SO PRETTY OP I AM GOING TO CRY

Tbh at first I thought this was Scott in the meeting having a flashback about Jimmy then I saw Zeva and my brain went !!!! OH OH THAT SCENE OHHH

I'm very flattered that my work inspired you enough to make art about it!! Honestly, as a writer, people drawing scenes from my fics(looking at you @daydreamdoodles<3) fills me with so much joy. It's surreal ro see other people's interpretation of your work!!!

That being said: ZEVA IN THIS OH MY GOD I AM FROTHING IN THE MOUTH JDBDJDJD SHE'S SO PRETTY I AM ASDLKGDW THE GRACE THE POISE THE PERMANENTLY UNAMUSED EXPRESSION I LOVE HER

I'm glad you enjoyed Sn&gl! That fic really has my entire soul in it and it's so cool to see other people interested!

[capsicle-evans]

Just for Show

Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: The Evans Christmas Family get together is coming soon and Chris has to come up with a plan as to who he is taking with him

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“What do you recommend?” I lean in to whisper to Chris, everyone too busy looking at their own menu. “I don’t know what to pick”

“Mmm the chicken parmesan pasta is always a great idea” Chris points at the small picture of the dish. “If you pair it with white wine, it’s the cherry on too”

“Mmm I don’t think I should be ordering wine” I chuckle, placing the menu back on the table. “Wine gets me in a sexy mood”

“Uff, then the more reason to do it” He grins at me, placing a hand over my knee. Oh two can play this game, Evans.

“Maybe tonight” I grin, leaning in closer so that my perfume scent engulfs him. “But I’m warning you, Evans. I can get really messy when wine is involved”

“I can handle messy, Miss Y/L/N” He says this as his hand rises up to my thigh just a little bit.

“Then I’ll make sure to be in my worst behavior” I lean in as slowly as I can, Chris’ eyes so focused on me, his lips barely open. I close the distance between our lips, the kiss a little more hot that what would be considered appropriate for a family lunch but for everyone it can look like a small kiss because I grab Chris’ neck to pull him closer so that he can conceal me for when I grace my tongue over his lips.

When I pull away, Chris’ eyes are so dark and stormy, his chest heaving. “Nobody is watching, Y/N”

“Oops, I guess I forgot” I grin. Chris is about to say something when the waiter interrupts him.

“Can I get your drinks?”

I’m the first one to order so without taking my eyes away from Chris, I tell him what I want. “I’ll have a pinot grigio”

“Do you think you are going to be able to handle yourself?” Chris whispers into my ear while everyone is ordering.

“It’s not myself that I’m worried about, Chris” I sit sideways, trying to face. “After all, you were the one watching me shower”

“But you were the one who left the door opened” He winks at me before turning back to the waiter, leaving me with my mouth wide open.

***

“Yeah, were not going out with you looking like that” Chris stands up from his couch as I reach the first floor, ready to go out with Chris and his siblings.

“Why?” I pout, looking down at my outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, babe” Scott waves Chris off. “You look hot as fuck”

“Language” Lisa giggles, earning an eye roll from Chris. “No but you do look gorgeous, honey”

“I know! I never said she didn’t” Chris reaches my side and grabs my waist. “But so will the rest of the bar”

“Oh but I only have eyes for you” I bop his nose, knowing that Chris won’t actually force me to change.

“You’ll freeze to death” He counterparts, still trying to fight me.

“I’ll take a coat” I pat his chest before looking around the room. “Where are my girls?”

“Coming” Shanna shouts as she and Carly walk up to us.

“Lets goo” I clap my hands happily as we all get up, ready to leave.

***

I call already feel sweat running down the back of my neck, my whole body buzzing after the four shots of tequila Scott dared me to drink. It’s been so long since I’ve danced like this, so freely and feeling myself.

“Damn Y/N” Scott slaps my ass playfully, earning chuckles from his sisters. “You do know how to move”

“Thanks” I grin but then I roll my eyes. “Well, at least you notice it”

“Is this about my boring brother over there?” He nods his head to the direction where Chris is. He has a glass of whiskey in his hands, the other one on his phone, his eyes not moving away from the screen.

“Yeah, he hasn’t looked at me even for a minute since we got here” I try to not sound as disappointed as I actually feel but based on the look my fake in laws give me, I know that I’m not doing a good job at it.

“No no no, you go there and you force him to look at you, god every man in this bar probably wishes they could be grinding behind you” Shanna tells me, looking back at her brother. “If you don’t go, I’ll do it myself”

“You walk there and make him want you” Scott nods before giving me a soft push towards Chris’ direction.

I try to steady my breath, trying to come up with a plan to seduce Chris without making a fool of myself. I mean, I could blame it on the alcohol just in case, but I rather not have to do it.

When I close enough, without a warning, a grab the phone from his hand and before he has a chance to protest, I step myself in between his legs, sitting down in his lap. “Can you give me back my phone?”

“Nope” I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Can you give me your attention?”

“Why? Is the attention of all the men in this bar not enough?” he scoffs, leaning back and away from me.

“Is that what this is all about? Are you jealous?” I move from his lap to rest both of my knees in the little space between his legs and I place my arms around his neck again, so basically I’m laying on top of him. “You know I don’t care about that, right? I only want your attention”

“You don’t have to lie, Scott and the girls are not close enough to hear you” He rolls his eyes before moving them away from me.

“God you are so stupid” I groan, grabbing his head to bring his focus back to me. I bring my lips up to his mouth, my tongue darting out to get a taste of his mouth. His lips are warm and soft and I can’t help but moan when his tongue meets mine.

Thank god the lighting in this bar is so dark, otherwise people would have seen the entire show Chris and I are putting on. He finally sits up straighter, his hands grabbing the back of my thighs as I dig my hands into his blond mess. I pull his head back by his hair, making him look me in the eyes.

“Chris” I try to speak but I’m so out of breath that it comes out as a moan.

“Fuck” Chris curses, his chest heaving and his hands giving my thighs a hard squeeze that earns him another moan. “We can’t do this”

I’m about to step away from him, feeling rejected when he adds “not here”.

I give him a quick kiss before standing up and stretching my hand to him. “Come dance with me then”

Chris bits his lips, a grin trying to scape, before standing up and grabbing my hand. “Lead the way”

“You know, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance, Captain” I walk backwards, my hand still in his. “That time at Robert’s house you denied me of such a pleasures”

“It was for your own good” He grins, pulling my arm to stop me on my tracks. “You wouldn’t have been able to keep you hands off me”

“Cocky much?” I roll my eyes, pressing my hands against his chest as his arms circle my waist.

“You know I am, Baby” He winks at me before giving my side a squeeze. “No but all jokes aside, my dance moves suuuck”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, Cap” I pull him closer to me, keeping my eyes on his. “Now, let’s dance”

***

“MCDONALDS MCDONALDS MCDONALDS” Scott and I chant loudly as Chris, who is sitting between us in the back, rolls his eyes.

“Shanna, we are going to have to stop at McDonalds or they won’t stop” Chris leans forward to pop his head between his sisters. “Y/N alone is a force to be reckoned with but you add Scott to the mixture and it’s worse”

“Fine, I’ll look for one not to far away” Carly pulls out her phone to look for one close as Shanna just laughs.

“You are in for a good one, brother” She giggles as Carly gives her the directions.

We finally reach the restaurant and after ordering from the drive thru, we are back in the road to home.

“Don’t get ice cream on the couch” Chris looks at me sternly as he holds my ice cream cone.

“Or what?” I flash him a grin before leaning in to suck on the ice cream still in his hand.

“Fuck” He breaths out lowly, just for me to hear. “You are killing me, woman”

“Good” I dip my finger into the ice cream before rubbing it on his cheek. “Oops, let me clean that”

I lean in, sticking ny tongue out to seductively lick the sweetness of his cheek. “Better?”

“You two knock it off” Scott fake gags as he takes his eyes away from us.

“Nobody told you to look” Chris waves off his brother before grabbing me by the back of my neck to pull me to his lips.

“Stop it or I will jump of the car”

***

“Goodnight” Chris whispers to his siblings before closing the door to his bedroom.

“Tonight was so much fun” I beam at him, my cheeks still red from the alcohol and the hot kiss Chris gave me on the car.

“You know, I get what you got nominated for an Oscar” Chris chuckles, kicking his shoes off.

“What do you mean?” I frown, popping my head from the bathroom door as I pull up my pijama shorts.

“You and the whole act you put on today” He looks at me as I step back into the room. “I’m sure everyone is convinced we are in love now”

There’s a part in me that instantly breaks, I fell my legs go numb, like my whole body just got thrown down a hill. “Oh, yeah.. the act. I mean that’s what I’m here for after all”

“Thank you” Chris stands up from the edge of the bed to place a kiss on forehead before walking towards his closet to pull out his pillows and blankets.

“No problem” I whisper softly before walking up to the bed and letting the bed spread engulf me.

“Every thing okay?” Chris asks be as I turn my back to him.

“Yup, just tired” I reply, trying hard not to cry right then and there.

“Okay” I hear him say before laying down on his made up bed. God, men are so oblivious. “Good night”

I don’t reply, already feeling the tears in the back of my eyes and my throat drying up.

“Y/N?” Chris asks again when I don’t reply.

I don’t know what happens but suddenly I’m sitting up and facing him. “No, Chris, actually, everything’s not fine because I wasn’t acting and for a second there I thought you weren’t either. For me, pretending to be in love with you stopped being an act a long time ago. Fuck I don’t think it was an act at all. And I know I promised to help you with this little stunt but I feel like if I stay and I keep pretending that this is all fake to me, I’m going to end up so heartbroken beyond repair so I think it would be best if I leave tomorrow morning”

“Y/N”

“Don’t. I don’t need your pity nor an apology or whatever it is that you are going to give me. I know that this isn’t your fault, you made it pretty clear that this was all an act and that you don’t want a relationship right now and I respect that but I also hope you respect my decision to remove myself from this situation before it gets me” I know that I’m crying now, big tears running down my cheeks.

“Can I talk?” Chris asks me from the floor where he is sitting.

“Sorry, yes” I clean my tears with the back of my hands as Chris moves to sit on the edge of the bed, next to me.

“The fact that you think that this was all on act to me is beyond me” Chris brings his hand up to caress my cheek. “I seriously thought I was being so obvious about how you made me feel that I was scared that you were just acting so that’s why I said what I said. I didn’t say it because I wanted it to me an act, a lie, I said it because I was trying to convince myself of it. Because I thought that that’s what it was to you, I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to love me back because I knew it was unfair. I’ve spent the last couple of days fighting this urge to hold you all the time, not just when my parents or my siblings are around”

“Chris, I-”

“I love you, Y/N”

*************************************************

Pleaseee dont hate me!! I had scheduled this to be posted on friday but I think I did it wrong since it didn’t! Sorry!!!

Also, this is not the last part, I’m doing one more so that should be up by friday.

Hope you like this❤️

Tag List: @patzammit @hollandprkr @hauntedmuffinoperarascal @denisemarieangelina @marianas-studyblr @justjulie1105 @itsscottiesstark @phillygirl19 @prettymuchawhore @cevansfics  @jennamarieee623 @chrisevanisliterallysir @spookyscot   @c00lkidvibes @duskangxls @supraveng @syms-things-5 @sabstrang

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Baby Bird

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request: i kinda had this idea for a warren x reader and if you were intrested or had time i’d be very appreciative 👉👈. (warren has his apocalypse wings) so the reader is a new student she’s very like shy and timid but very sweet and her only friend is jean, she just like refuses to converse with others. and her gift is her wings and they’re exactly like warren’s except black (kinda like he was the bad boy with white angel wings and she’s the good girl with black wings,sorry i love opposites 😂) and be just hates her because it’s a reminder of his old wings and mistakes. fast forward to like a day at school or party someone is messing with r because she never shows off her wings and then like push her or something and jean freaks out and tells warren r doesn’t know how to use her wings (super sad childhood with very anti-mutant parents) so then warren saves her and they talk more and get closer.

A/N: this is so late! I am so sorry! But I am finally getting around to all my requests and this wasn’t in my ask box so it got kind of lost and I forgot about it for a hot minute! I hope you enjoy it though! 🥺💛

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: underage drinking, teasing, anxiety, and mentions of poor home life

“Your grades are phenomenal, yet your class participation is lacking.” (Y/N) picked at her nails, looking down. Xavier called her into his office to “discuss her grades” but she knew that was the last thing on his mind. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but at some point, everyone has to socialize.”

Her head shot up, “I do! I do socialize.” 

Sure, she ate lunch alone under the trees, would rather be alone than have a partner for class projects, and she didn’t have many friends— but she was new! Being the new kid was hard. Not to mention her parents were more than thrilled to get rid of her and her wings. 

Her big, black, feathery wings, that she didn’t even know how to use! She hid them under baggy sweaters, no matter the weather. 

Xavier gave her a look, “You don’t have any friends and you hide your beautiful wings.”

“Dr. McCoy and Mystique hide their true selves… and if Kurt had the chance he’d want to look normal too.” Charles sighed. “Look, um, Professor, I do— I do have friends.” 

“Who?” 

“Jean Grey.” 

Saying Jean was her friend wasn’t a lie— however, Jean was her only friend. (Y/N) didn’t like to talk, and Jean read minds— easy friendship right there. 

Jean had other friends and even a boyfriend. (Y/N) felt like she weighed her down or was charity work, but Jean always said otherwise. 

Sometimes (Y/N) would sit with Jean and her friends. They were all kind and welcoming, despite her not saying anything. The only one who seemed standoff-ish was Warren. 

 Warren was tall and extremely handsome. Jean had teased (Y/N) for losing her train of thought more than once for looking at Warren and thinking he was pretty. 

He had these huge metal wings and tattoos on his face. (Y/N) thought they could possibly be friends, mostly because they both had wings, but that didn’t go so well…

—

The one day (Y/N) wore a t-shirt, with holes in the back so she could flaunt her wings, everyone looked at her. She didn’t like the attention, but she couldn’t blame them for staring. 

Jean’s friends showered her with a mixture of surprise and compliments with her wings. 

“Can I touch them?” Peter asked. (Y/N) nodded, making eye contact with Warren for a moment. 

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. (Y/N) quickly looked away and frowned. Everyone liked her except for Warren. 

Was he the honest one of the group though? What if all of Jean’s friends actually hated (Y/N)? What if they just put up with her because Jean made them? She was sure Scott didn’t like her much either, even if he never showed it. He was dating Jean and her friendship with (Y/N) probably cut into their time… Oh, God… They just think my wings are neat and soon as I stop showing them they’ll get bored of me… 

Warren was glaring at something, and then he got up as left. Just like that!

“Is he okay?” (Y/N) asked Jean.

“He’s just being dumb. You know how boys are.” (Y/N) nodded, but she was pretty sure Warren wasn’t just “being dumb”. He probably hated her. 

—

It was finally the weekend, and (Y/N) was hunched over her books on a Friday night. Normal for her, as Jean and her friends usually went out somewhere. 

A knock at her door interrupted her work time, and she opened it to find Jean and Jubilee standing in the doorway. Jubilee was bouncing and had a bag in her arms. 

(Y/N) let them in. Jubilee set the bag on the floor and started going through it— it was full of makeup and hair stuff. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re going to a party tonight, and you’re coming with us.”

(Y/N) glanced over to her work pile, “But I’ve got a paper due—” 

“Two weeks from now. I have the same class.” Jubilee answered. 

“Jean…” She whined. 

“One night out won’t kill you. Neither will a little makeup and a cute outfit.”

“What?” 

“Here, put this on.”

She examined the lump of fabric in her hands. 

It was a dress. 

“People will see my wings!” 

“Yeah, that’s like the whole point,” Jubilee said.

(Y/N) sighed and slipped off her sweater, putting the dress on in its place. 

“You look so pretty!” Jubilee cooed. 

“Thanks.” (Y/N)’s immediate reaction was to fold her wings in tightly to her back, so they weren’t visible from the front. 

“Relax,” Jean told her, soon as she noticed what (Y/N) was doing. Jubilee signaled her to sit down on the floor next to her, amidst a hundred different makeup products. 

“I’m just gonna do some light, subtle makeup. Enough to enhance your features.” 

“Thanks?...” The brush tickled (Y/N)’s skin, making her nose scrunch up. 

“Relax your face. This doesn’t hurt.” 

“Sorry. Sorry…” 

“It’s okay.” 

—

Everyone somehow managed to fit in one car— except for Kurt and Peter, they were racing to see who could get to the party first— Jean and Scott in the front, Warren, Jubilee, Ororo, and (Y/N) in the back. 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Warren looked a little flushed, “Is Warren okay?” 

“Yeah, why?” Jean asked.

“His face is flushed. Is he just like, hot or something?”

“Or something…” Jean smiled, trying to act nonchalant. (Y/N) gave her a deadpan look through the rearview mirror. “I can’t tell you, but he’s fine.” 

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Scott asked, looking back at her through the rearview mirror. 

“Yeah.” 

Scott nodded awkwardly.

—

Once parked, everyone quickly tumbled out of the car. Music could be heard from the inside. It was loud.

“I want to go home.” 

“(Y/N) we just got here— dance with Jubilee or go sit outside with Ororo and Warren.” 

“Warren doesn’t like me.”

“Not true… He’s just quiet.” 

(Y/N) started to retaliate but Jean walked into the kitchen with Scott, and (Y/N) tried to not interrupt her time with her boyfriend, so she shut up. 

Peter was playing beer pong with some kids. Jubilee and Kurt were dancing and both had cups in their hands. There was some wanna-be punk band playing.

(Y/N) decided to join them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” 

She waved her hand.

“You look nice,” Kurt said.

“Thanks.” 

“I did her makeup,” Jubilee bragged. 

Kurt giggled slightly, “Nice.” 

The band was mostly playing covers, but they were pretty good. (Y/N) was letting loose and dancing along with Jubilee and Kurt.

I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah! 

Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit… 

I'm traveling at the speed of light. 

I wanna make a supersonic woman of you! 

(Y/N) accidentally hit Jubilee with her wings. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine! They’re soft anyways.”

Don't stop me, don't stop me, don’t stop me. Hey, hey, hey! 

Don't stop me, don't stop me, ooh, ooh, ooh…

(Y/N) was actually enjoying herself. She was dancing and chanting incoherently along with the lyrics. She almost felt free. 

The last time she had felt like this was as a child. Before her wings grew in. Before her parents deemed her a monster who had to hide. Before she lost everything she had. Before she decided to speak less was better for her. 

She didn’t even think about any of it. She didn’t even think about how Jean was probably making out with Scott in a bathroom, or how Warren had been acting. She was having fun, and that was the only thing that mattered to her. 

—

At some point during the night, (Y/N), slightly tipsy, made it up onto the roof with a few other kids. Everything was fine at first, but they were way too drunk.

“Why don’t you jump off the edge?” One of them asked.

“What?” 

“Fly off the edge, birdie!” The other laughed. “Jump! Jump!”

“Jump! Jump!” 

In the rooftop kids efforts to get (Y/N) to jump, people on the ground started chanting too. 

“What’s going on?” Warren asked. Jubilee shrugged. 

(Y/N) was terrified, wings folded in tightly to her back.

Jean came running up to Warren, “(Y/N) can’t fly! She can’t hear me either, she’s too nervous, lost in her own thoughts.” 

Warren wanted to ask what he could possibly do, but he never got the chance. 

(Y/N) fell off the roof. 

Or maybe she was pushed off. Either way, it didn’t matter because she was screaming and falling and no one was doing anything. 

Warren bolted and flew up so he could catch her in his arms. She looked so weak and tired in his arms. She was crying and his heart dropped seeing her like that. 

Warren carefully brought her to the ground, making sure she could walk on her own. “Come here,” He gave her his jacket and wrapped an arm around her, letting her cry into his chest. 

“I hated that—” She sniffled, “—I’m never doing it again.” Warren nodded understandingly, holding her close to his side. 

“Let’s go home, okay?” (Y/N) nodded, still in a state of shock. 

—

The halls of the mansion were like a ghost town, everyone was either out, asleep, or couped up in one of the many rooms. Warren and (Y/N) were alone as they walked up to her room. 

“Why did you save me?” 

Warren blinked, looking at (Y/N). She rarely spoke to or around him. 

“Jean said you couldn’t fly.” 

“Oh…” She avoided Warren’s eyes in embarrassment. So Jean told him to save me because I’m useless. Of course…

“You could have died, falling from that high up,” Warren’s voice was stern, but he wasn’t angry. 

“Sorry…” She mumbled.

Warren furrowed his brows, “Sorry? What are you sorry for?” 

“I inconvenienced you…”

“What? No!” He stopped to stand face to face, holding one of (Y/N)’s hands. “You could never.” 

(Y/N) felt fuzzy inside. Was she getting sick? Was she allergic to Warren? Why is he so nice? Why am I so nervous?

“I’d do the same for anyone.” 

Oh. Yeah, no, he doesn’t really like me… nobody does…  “Right.” 

Warren noticed her mood change, but he didn’t call her out for it. 

“I’m gonna go to bed. Thanks for bringing me home…” 

“Of course…” He coughed for a moment, clearing his throat. “If you need anything, um, my room isn’t that far—”

“Thanks, Warren.” She forced a smile. “Good night.”  

 “Good night.”

—

Warren slipped off his t-shirt, discarding it on his desk chair. He laid in bed, thinking about (Y/N).

What if he hadn’t caught her in time?

He shook the thought away as he tossed in bed, slowly falling asleep.

Warren didn’t hate (Y/N). He just hated her wings… they reminded him of his old wings. The one thing he wanted most in life… his new ones were a constant reminder of his past mistakes, they were the wings of a monster. 

But Warren had changed, or so he thought. He hated seeing (Y/N)’s wings, despite them rarely being out. He was jealous and angry. Mostly at himself.

But (Y/N) didn’t know how to use her wings…

That was strange to Warren. Maybe there was more to her than he thought. 

—

(Y/N) awoke to a knock on her door. 

“Hggggg… Just give me a minute.” She groaned. She rolled out of bed and opened the door. 

“Jean? What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay! We got back late and Warren said you were already asleep.”

“Oh… Well, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay… Do you wanna come down for breakfast?” 

(Y/N) glanced at her pajamas. “Can I get changed first?...”

“You look fine! Most of the group is still in their pj’s anyway.” 

“Okay.” 

Jean led (Y/N) down the hall to the kitchen where her friends were. Most of them were chatting amongst themselves or shoving food into their mouths. 

“Hangovers?” She asked. 

“Yeah some, I’m surprised you don’t have one.” 

“I never said I didn’t.” (Y/N) got herself a cup and a plate, taking some of the food and drink available. 

“(Y/N), are you okay from last night?” Jubilee asked. 

She nodded. 

Peter let out a breath, “Thank God. Xavier would have killed us if you’d gotten hurt.” (Y/N) nodded again, trying to just focus on the food on her plate. 

“You’re lucky Warren was there to catch you,” Scott stated. 

“Yep.” 

“Is everyone going to keep talking about last night?” She asked herself.

“Probably. You could have broken your legs, or sprained an ankle— plus people like to talk.” 

“Gossip, you mean gossip.” 

Jean didn’t respond, she was too focused on whatever Scott was saying. (Y/N) rolled her eyes. 

Typical. 

Warren trudged into the kitchen— his curls tangled, wings almost dragging against the floor, and he wore the world’s most wrinkled t-shirt— he looked like he didn't want to be there. 

He opened up a cabinet and took out a mug. He closed the cabinet door and moved over near the coffee pot on the counter. He took it and poured plain, black, coffee into his mug. 

Then he took a sip straight from the mug. 

“There is creamer and milk in the fridge,” (Y/N) reminded him. 

“I know.”

“Oh.”

(Y/N) focused on her plate again, trying to pretend the awkward interaction didn’t happen. 

“Hey, uh, I was wondering—“ (Y/N) quickly looked up at Warren as he spoke. “I could like, help you learn to fly.” 

“Um…”

“No one would see us. If you’re worried about that.” 

“Oh my god! You should say yes!” (Y/N) quickly twisted her head over at Jean and almost gave her the finger, but Scott was watching. So she just glared. 

She didn’t want Jean in her head all the time. Especially at a time like this. 

She looked back at Warren, “Sure. I have nothing else to do.” 

“Cool. I have some stuff to do, but I’ll get you in a few hours.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Sounds good.” 

—

(Y/N) looked through her closet, trying to find something she could wear to fly in. Most of her tops weren’t exactly wing friendly. She sighed. 

She didn’t even want to do this— she just wanted to hide her wings forever and move on from last night. 

No. No, that wasn’t true in the slightest. 

She needed to learn to use her wings, they were a part of her, whether she liked it or not. She had her old life ripped away from her in exchange for the big black heaps of feathers on her back, weighing her down every day. She had to embrace them somehow. They were all she had. 

That and Jean… sometimes. And eventually, she’d have to leave the nest and talk to other people. 

Warren knocked on her door. (Y/N) glanced at her reflection— she still had her pajamas on! 

He knocked again, “(Y/N)? It’s me.” 

“Sorry! Give me a sec!” (Y/N) hurried and shut her closet, then opening her door to let Warren in. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, are you—“ He glanced at her clothes. (Y/N) instantly tensed up, insecure by his gaze. “Why are you still in your pajamas?” 

“Uh… I don’t really have anything good for flying—“ 

“Just wear some shorts and a shirt with holes in the back. Nothing fancy.” 

“You don’t understand, I have one shirt with holes in the back, and it’s in the laundry.” 

“You sleep with your wings tucked in?” Warren gawked.

“Sometimes.” She defended. 

Warren glanced at something shiny in the corner of his eye. “Grab a shirt you don’t care about.” 

“Okay…” (Y/N) grabbed an old Xavier’s school tee. 

“Give it to me.” She handed it to Warren. He took the scissors from her desk and quickly cut slits in the back of the t-shirt. “There. Now you have something to wear.” 

She just stared at Warren. 

“Are you gonna put it on or?...”

“Can you step out of the room then?” 

Warren’s eyes widened in realization on what he’d set himself up for. “Right! Right, um, do you need any help getting your wings through the holes?”

“If I do, I’ll ask. Now leave so I can get dressed.” 

“Yeah, right, right.” Warren quickly stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. 

(Y/N) huffed and slipped her large nightshirt off, throwing it on her bed. She grabbed the shirt Warren cut up and put it on without a second thought. 

Head pops out through the first hole. 

The arms go through the sleeves. 

The shirt slips down and covers the chest and torso. 

But the wing holes were new. (Y/N) tried to push one of her wings out but she struggled. It took her a bit of reaching back with her hands to spread the fabric a bit so she had more space before she could get it through the slit. 

The second wing she had more trouble with. 

(Y/N) couldn’t reach her arms back as easily to spread out the slit. And her whole wing wouldn’t go through since it wasn’t the loosest of shirts. 

(Y/N) opened her door and peeked her head out. “Hey, I need some help…” 

Warren perked up a little, following (Y/N) into her room. 

“Just like, hold the two sides of the slit out, and then I can get my wing through.” 

Warren did as she asked. 

“We’re they too small?” 

“A little, but also this isn’t baggy like most of my clothes, so…” 

“I can make the holes bigger if you want.” 

She dismissed him, “It’s fine. I’ll do it later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I already wasted enough time getting ready. We should go out.”

Warren nodded, “Yeah. We’re gonna be out for a while.”

—

They were standing on the roof of Xavier’s, looking out onto the grassy campus. 

“So, uh, flying once you get the hang of it, is like a reflex almost… But uh basically, you just need to flap your wings, so you keep yourself afloat of sorts. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay, um, just like, run off the edge—”

“Runoff the edge?!” (Y/N) asked, terrified of falling to her death. Scared of having a repeat of the night before.

“Just flap your wings, and if you mess up I’ll catch you.” 

(Y/N) stood at the edge, peering down at the ground below. “Are you sure?”

“Maybe back up a bit, get like a running start first.” 

(Y/N) did as he suggested, running off the edge. When her feet left the roof, she tried to flap her wings as Warren had told her. 

She felt herself flying like a wonky baby bird. Somewhat lopsided with each flap, but she was doing it! 

“Oh my gosh! Warren! Warren I’m doing it!” 

She could see Warren still on the roof. He gave her a thumbs up and some encouraging cheers. 

(Y/N) smiled, struggling to fly, but flying nonetheless. She looked down for a moment, and then suddenly realized she was many feet above the ground, in the air. (Y/N) panicked, and stopped flapping her wings for a moment, before she started to fall. 

“Shit!” Warren flew off the roof to save (Y/N).  

But it was a false alarm, for, by the time Warren was about to catch (Y/N), she’d regained herself and was no longer falling to the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, it’s just really high up, I’m scared of falling again, like at the party.” 

“Hey, hey, relax, don’t focus on the ground or your wings. Just— focus on me, okay?”

She looked at his face— his blue eyes, his plush pink lips, the dark lines adorned all over his face, and how he had a few untamable, blonde curls that framed his face— she looked at Warren’s wings and tried to copy how his fluttered and kept him aflight. 

“You’re doing it!” He told her.

“Really?” (Y/N) was almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, you’re doing great!” 

(Y/N) looked at her wings, realizing what she was doing. She was worried she’d fall, but it never happened. 

“I’ll race you to the mansion next door.” 

“Next door? That’s like several acres.” Warren gave her a knowing look, and then it all clicked. “Oh! Oh, you’re so on!” 

Warren laughed and they both flew off at high speed, away from school.

—

They got back to the mansion after sunset, both giggling and playfully fighting about who won the race. 

“I think I won—”

“Oh, yes, beginner’s luck, Baby Bird.”

She raises her eyebrows and points at him, “Aha! So you admit I won.”

“I may have let you…” 

(Y/N) scoffed, “Yeah, right.” 

“Yeah, you got me. I wouldn’t go too easy on you.” Warren was headed for the kitchen, but (Y/N) was going in the opposite direction.

“I was gonna get a bite to eat. Wanna join me?”

“Um, I was going to shower first…” 

“Oh… I’ll see you later then?”

(Y/N) was suddenly very awkward and nervous, “Um, yeah! Pfft, of course, uh— yeah. Yeah!” 

“Great!” Warren was also suddenly somewhat nervous. 

“Great!” 

The two were on their separate paths, before (Y/N) turned back for a moment.

“You good?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, um,” (Y/N) kissed his cheek. It didn’t last long, but it left her heart pounding and Warren flustered.

“Thanks for today. I’m gonna go shower.”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x04)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 04: She Who Seduces

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: wow! lots of stuff you guys want but at the same time aren’t gettin’ any

Word Count: It’s a weird feeling to be tagged as an essential worker, but not be made to feel like an essential worker? I mean I feel I’m not one. But if I am being forced out of my house, being exposed to the possibility of catching the virus, being ignored by corporate, media and the govt as humans, I have to wonder why am I even sitting here. I get the doctors and nurses and no amount of verbal praise can even come close to what they are doing right now. But if me and my colleagues have be ignored and made to work at large, I’d rather we do it from the safety of our homes, man. (Just when I had started to get better on my own)

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The camera focused on a blue egg the colour of sky lying in the dirt, zooming in on it a little before jolting back as the egg moved. The camera did the entire cycle once again before a fluff hand tried to smack that egg like a cat curious about this unexplained cute atrocity in front of them.

“Lulu!” a voice called from somewhere in the distance in the midst of a mixture of all sorts of noises- like the ones experienced in your neighbourhood local market. But the camera did not budge till it recorded the sky egg crack bit by bit before a pair of blue eyes popped out on a little white head. Those gorgeous cute eyes looked at the camera, blinking out of coordination before looking at the little golden fuzzy arm slowly coming towards its head. Blinking again- this time with curiosity- the blue eyes froze on that snail-paced extension of a husk behind the camera before a tiny void opened under those innocent eyes to take that husk arm into it and bite down with an audible crunch.

Javier’s camera swiftly turned to Lulu’s cries, finding him far behind in the crowd of aliens trying to knock something away from his arm.

The little husk- screaming and howling like a little dog in pain- was rescued by pale fingers catching hold of the round head that was too stubborn to let go. A little squeeze and those surprisingly vicious teeth let go, breaking the remnants of the eggshells to let out white paws attached to the tiniest legs.

“Scram,” Loki ordered the white alien- who ran away as quickly as possible- before turning towards Lulu, “what were you trying to do with that beast? Have it for breakfast?”

Lulu chirped, nodding before slumping a little into the ground.

“Yeah, good luck with that while you’re in Y/N’s care,” he stated, getting and turning to look at the judgmental zoom Javier’s camera threw on him. “What. You want her to keep another alien as a pet?”

“Guys, I found a restaurant,” your voice called out of the frame, making Loki look in your direction, “OH MY GOD YOU GUYS! THERE ARE REAL LIFE SAILOR SOLDIERS IN HERE!!”

Loki looked at the camera, ageing a thousand years more. “Please tell me it’s not one of those mangas she keeps talking about.”

When Javier spelt it out for him from behind the camera, Loki’s eyes closed and he let out the heaviest sigh he possibly could

Loki: *with a very serious face* the prospect of me having died before being teleported here does not seem so bad. It looks fantastic now. *camera zooms in on his face while you scream in delight in the background, “I’m sitting with real-life Sailor Soldiers!! Aaaahhhh-”*

 The Lounge

"Where's Stark?"

One camera panned in on Bucky's face as he came out of the dorm with bed hair while the other looked at a mildly surprised Scott drinking orange juice from a crystal wine glass.

"He said he'll come in twenty. He's gone for his weekly therapy session," Scott replied, swirling the juice in his glass with his pinky out while observing Bucky from head to toe. "You should try that sometimes. It's really good."

Bucky sat down on the sofa with a stare filled with judgemental questions in Scott's direction. "Me? Therapy? That stuff's for looneys."

Scott furrowed his brows at Bucky, pause all moments for a second before bringing the glass ever so slowly to his lips. "Okay, Boomer."

"What?"

"What?"

Bucky: I don’t need therapy. *mocks a laugh* Shuri made me better than ever in Wakanda. All I need is exercise, healthy food in my stomach and a good amount of sleep. *nods in satisfaction*

*camera zooms out to reveal Scott sitting next to him, shaking his head lightly in mild disbelief*

Scott: *softly* Now I know where that attitude in this present world comes from.

Bucky: *turns to look at Scott* *shifts uncomfortably in his seat while shifting his gaze between the camera and Scott*

*silence erodes the room before Bucky finally breaks*

Why are you looking at me like that? I haven’t killed anyone recently.

Scott: *furrows brows in confusion* what?

Bucky: *stops mid-way and looks away from Scott towards the camera* Nothing

Scott: I never said about killing anyone. *pitch grows higher with every word* Bucky, I never said about killing anyone. Bucky, did you kill someone?

Bucky: *shakes his head with disinterest* mm-mm.

Scott: *mouth opens wide in disbelief* *hands go into his hair on his head* OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE!!!

Bucky: NO! I DID N-

Fifteen Minutes Later

Bucky: *softly* So I’ve decided after...a lot of thinking that I should go talk to a...a therapist.

Scott: *nods and smiles at the camera like an encouraging wife*

Bucky: *gives a forceful smile*

Scott: And I too will be going to see a therapist.

Bucky: *nods* *presses lips*

Bucky and Scott: *look at the door, forcing the camera to turn and land on a somewhat irritated Natasha glaring at them from outside the door with arms crossed across her chest*

 Back In The Lounge

Wanda walked into the living room space where Bruce was working on some calculations on his laptop while another camera discreetly caught Bucky and Scott giving each other the stink eye.

"You should take a break, Bruce," Wanda stressed while placing a mug of hot tea on his table. Bruce half-looked at the mug before turning back to it, pulling it close and smelling it. "Since when do we drink so much tea?"

Wanda shrugged. "Since Loki and Y/N came into our lives?" She was unsure but that's what all things pointed at. Bruce went with it too.

He rubbed his eyes and shut his laptop. "Yeah, I guess we can take a break." He yawns and gets up. "Loki seems to have everything under control anyway, so…"

Wanda seemed to wince very quietly, her expressions showing no surety in Bruce’s words; or a reflection of an upset stomach.

“I mean, Y/N is being a levelheaded person too. It’s not all Loki.”

A scoff came from the other side of the room where Bucky stood, all eyes and camera turning to stare at him, his crumbling confident posture trying to display reason. “I mean...she hasn’t been to space before. She does not know what’s out there as well as Loki.”

“So, what you are trying to say is she won’t be able to survive if it wasn’t for Loki?” Scott stretched his words to make sure Bucky heard every single one of them.

“Of course she wouldn’t survive out there. She is a kid.” A very sweaty Clint walked into the lounge and went straight for the orange juice inside the fridge. The camera caught the muted gasps coming out of Wanda and Scott for the men in the room not having much faith in your survival skills.

“So are you,” a very sweaty Natasha acknowledged Clint’s words as she grabbed the juice bottle from Clint’s hand, “but you survived the Infinity War without your family. Oh, wait. You didn’t really survive. You just turned into a whiny little bitch and started killing the first thing you saw.”

Wanda looked at the camera with her eyes wide and her lips pressed tightly to stop her from screaming at the burn. Bruce, on the other hand, whispered ‘oh shit’ and tried to disappear in his mug. Scott sipped his juice like the best tea he had been served in a long time, all the while smirking like a content goofball.

“That was so below the belt, Nat,” Clint protested, his hands resting on his hips as he watched her gulp down half the bottle of juice before handing Clint the rest and smacking her lips in satisfaction. “Y/N is in outer space with a frost giant. And so is Javier. But I don’t hear any of you mention him in this conversation when it comes to surviving on one's own?”

“Javier is a-”

Bruce paused before finishing his sentence as he realised the error of his words right before they came out. “Nice guy?” He finally breathed out, his lungs not being able to take the torture. “He is also in danger, of course. That is a given. I was in danger too when I was stuck in space. Thor can vouch for me.”

Thor: *standing on a cliff while the Asgardians celebrate in the background around a fire* *yells over the sound of waves crashing in on the rocks below* BRUCE WAS SO MUCH FUN ON SAKAAR! WE HAD DRINKS AND DANCES AND SO MANY GIRLS OGLING AT HIM! OF COURSE, THAT WAS WHEN HE WAS THE HULK. WHEN HE WAS BACK TO BEING A BORING OLD SCIENTIST ALL HE SPOKE WAS OF HIS PHDS AND HIS HOW MUCH THIS ONE GUY HERE WAS ALL OVER HIM! I THINK HE LIKED IT. HIM! HE LIKED HIM. IF THIS IDIOT WASN’T STUCK ON BORING OLD NAT THEN I WAS BETTING ON THEM DOIN’ IT. YEAH!!! *pauses and smiles his widest smile* *blinks into an invisible void in the distance* PLEASE DON’T TELL NATASHA  I CALLED HER BORING. OR-OR OLD.

Bruce gulped where he sat. “Maybe he can’t vouch for me. He was too trippy throughout his trip to space anyways. Maybe the lack of oxygen did it to him.”

The silence grew uncomfortable by the second as he exchanged a look with a camera while Clint just shook his head and let out a defeated “dude”.

 Space Place

“Hey, where’s Loki?” you asked Javier while Lulu climbed up the bar stool in the small inn right by the farmer’s market that you had just passed. “Right behind you?” you looked past Javier before walking towards the way he had come- “but he’s not he-”

Your words were cut short by something you saw from the window, forcing the camera to shift on seeing the concern cloud your face towards the scene outside the window. Outside, four buffed up aliens stood surrounding Loki while he raised his hands a little like a white flag.

Instinct took over and you stepped out of the inn but stopped on the porch as Loki yelled, “No! Do not come any closer!” without making eye contact.

One of the buff guys did step closer, his face breathing down right into Loki’s. And Loki? He chuckled at the alien. “One more inch and I think we’ll be kissing, Kronk.”

Kronk the big boulder looking guy hissed at him. “You stepped on the wrong planet, Silvertongue. Hudon wants your head or your body. And he will make sure you pay up your dues.”

Loki tried to increase the distance between him and Kronk, moving back a little; enough to stop smelling his breath on him. “Wow. Looks like someone had a lot of raw Siluji fish today. Hehe. And I thought Hudon was on Myscul. Anyways. How about I talk to Hudon and offer him something that he cannot refuse. And both of us can get back to our respective business.” No matter how much he smiled, Loki did not seem to be getting through that guy.

“Hudon does not want to talk to you. He knows how you work, trickster. He will cut his ears off before he listens to you.”

Loki wanted to contradict the guy but shut his lips to be on the better side of this guy. “Okay. Fine. I will meet him in two hours then? I’ll even bring some good sushi for you.” Loki started to walk away from them when one of Kronk’s men caught hold of him and slapped black handcuffs onto his wrists. 

“You are coming with us, traitor.”

The camera recorded Loki being dragged away in broad daylight while no one even batted an eye at the incident. You walked to the end of the porch- the end close enough to watch Loki being taken away as his brows reflected concern in your direction before disappearing behind the nearest stall of berries.

“Javi,” you uttered softly, your eyes still looking for Loki, “I think Loki’s in trouble. Oh, God. I think we are in trouble.”

 The Foreigner’s Inn

The camera settled on the window sill and a pair of hands moved away to reveal Javier sitting back in the seat of the corner table far away from the bustle of the inn. You sat opposite him, nervously biting your nails and moving your leg under the table while Lulu sat right in the middle, facing the camera, drinking some green concoction you bought him with a few talons from the ones Loki handed you once you had landed on this planet. Javier’s blue eyes scrutinised the place before coming back to you. He tapped your hand for attention before signing something.

“Yeah,” you acknowledged with a nod, “a plan. We need to come up with a plan to save Loki. But we don’t know where they took him. Oh, shi-should we have followed them? Ah fuck! Now, we won’t know where they went. Maybe we should ask someone. But we don’t know what kind of guy Hudon is. What if he’s got eyes everywhere? Then if we ask someone about him, we’ll be the ones walking right into the lion’s den. And we’ll be the ones who will need saving. Okay okay okay okay okay okay. Right right right right right right.”

Javier knocked the table to get your spiralling conscience back to him, directing you to stop, breathe in and breathe out. And you did, pausing for a moment before things got worse in your head. “Right. We need to think this with a clear head. Um...what would Mr Stark tell us to do.”

With your back straight you looked right at Javier. “He would say stop, take a breather. Make sure that you are safe first. It’s fine to worry about Loki but he is a great strategist. He will definitely find a way out of trouble. But that does not mean we do not go look for him. No one gets left behind. Not even that ugly gourd. Help is always around. All you need to do is ask. And never forget that I love you no matter what. Now go save that son of a bitch.”

Javier stared blankly for a second before breaking into silent applause. “So, we need to find something or someone that can give information about that guy holding Loki. Where can we get someone who would know that and help us, complete strangers?”

Lulu, who, all this time had been swinging his bushy bottom from the chair, suddenly stopped, put the drink from his hand on the table and pressed his belly with a click.

[Hippie Sabotage’s Righteous starts playing]

Lulu got down from his chair and moved towards the door of the inn. You called after him but he did not stop and so you and Javier followed with the camera.

Lulu’s camera took in the boots stepping into the inn first. Then the ripped pants, going up to the open shirt revealing perfect abs. Then came those familiar faces carrying their smouldering looks with them still.

Javi’s camera recorded your expression of surprise followed by a hint of something schemy going on in those eyes. A smile was all that you gave them though. “Never thought I would see you guys again.”

The camera swerved to the rainbow k-pop donning shades that were being taken off as slowly as possible. White turned to look at you, the smoulder still holding strong on his face. “And leave you to fend for yourself, princess. Not on my watch.”

You: Yeah *mildly disgusted* I forgot how clingy he is.

“I need your help.”

Sky jumped where he stood and clapped his hand before slipping behind Mauve and blushing.

“Loki’s in trouble. I need to help him es-”

“Say no more,” White whispered while bringing his pale finger on your lips, which you smacked away. “But before we go on the adventure together, my beautiful princess, I urge you to imagine going on another adventure. Just you. And me. And planets with no one but us.”

“And me,” came a faint whisper from behind Mauve.

“Oh, my G-is there anyone of you who is a normal one?”

“I don’t know about normal,” Green came forward and tucked at the edges of his shirt, “but I can take him away from you and help you save your…”

You waited for him to finish his sentence.

“Boyfriend?” he sounded as unsure as the uneasy lines on his face. Before you could say anything to contradict him, White gasped and Sky whimpered. “Boyfriend! He is your boyfriend?! Oh my stars,” White cried, “what are the odds that fate made us meet when you were already someone else’s.”

You stood there, blinking, questioning whether it would be a good decision to tell him the truth. “So, because I have a boyfriend, you will stop pursuing me?”

Sky sniffled, White sighed in defeat and Orange clicked his tongue at the lost opportunity. “I am a creature of code. I would never even think pretty thoughts about someone else’s queen,” he assured with a weak vibration in his voice.

“Cool,” you exclaimed, “Loki is my boyfriend! And I am Y/N, hi. And you are…”

“Call us whatever you like,” Green replied with a smile. “We don’t have names. Just voice notes as a way of identification. Now, let’s get to work.”

“Oh my God,” Mauve groaned audibly and rolled his eyes under those shades, “finally. She definitely needs that work.”

You and the cameras looked at you, wondering what was so wrong to have blunt judgement thrown at you out of nowhere. “Why would I need work?”

Green gestured to you to move up the stairs of the inn with them. “You mentioned Loki being captured by the alien named Hudon.”

“Never mentioned that.”

“He is a classic brute,” Green continued, like he never heard you, as you walked next to him while Lulu got himself lifted into your arms, “who owns all the brothels of this base. He trades in creatures who can exploit their own bodies for what he pays them. The fact that Loki was taken away by his men points at the possibility of trade between them gone wrong.”

You gasped at the sudden revelation that was dawning upon you. “Wait. So, that could mean he wants payback from Loki. Does he want payback in...in cash or...in kind?”

Green’s eyes reflected sympathy for your situation. “Let’s hope, for you and Loki, that it is cash.”

“But wouldn’t that mean he has to sell his body?!”

Green nodded. Lulu’s camera caught White murmuring to Violet, “do you think that furry thing is their child?”

“We have something that might help you. And for that-” he stopped in front of a door of one room at the far end of the corridor, twisting the knob and clicking it open for you to enter- “we would need your help.”

“Okay,” you nodded before confusion took over your face and Lulu purred while rubbing against your shoulder, “what kind of help.”

Mauve sighed loudly, pushing you away- gently- to enter the room first. “We would need your help to do something about the drab that you humans call fashion on your planet,” he nearly puked while looking at your clothes.

“Hey! This shirt is really comfortable. So are these leggings and boots!”

Mauve screwed his face at you. “Oh, they better be! Because that hue-combination is a disaster,” he stressed.

You felt your head go back a little. "Just because I don't have much interest in fashion, I'm gonna let that pass. But I am pretty sure the Queer Eye won't stand for that insult."

"The Queer Eye would've made you into a walking weapon had they been in your vicinity darling," Mauve mentioned matter-of-factly and walked towards the lone dresser and dragged out the chair before tapping it. "Now sit your ass down and let me show you how it's done while Mr Green fills you in about everything."

You looked at Green. He nodded jovially. White on the other hand went and plopped on the bed. Violet went and splayed himself on the sofa, Red went for the window sill to go and brood there. Sky took the foot of the bed and made himself comfortable to look at you for the next two hours. Orange took off his shirt and trousers and went into the bathroom.

"Hey, Lulu," White called out from the bed, "put on a sexy getting-ready song."

Lulu got up on the dresser and pressed his stomach to play Rachel Bloom’s Sexy Getting Ready Song.

“Wait. Hold on,” you called out, making Mauve and Green stop in their tracks and Lulu pausing the song, “I...I gotta poop. Please get that orange pervert out of there?”

 Hudon’s Whorehouse

A hush, beginning from the entrance, fell as the eyes followed the figure. A sweet yet strong melody seemed to follow that black-clad creature, stirring both fear and excitement in the witnesses; who completely missed the two companions walking on its either side.

Never feel too good in crowds With folks around when they're playing

The clack of those pointed heels seemed to be a pound at the doors of the devil himself and every minion that walked in the path she walked, only stopping in the room fit for a queen; nothing less. A seat was taken on the gold-framed sofa, legs spread in comfort and defiance of the one in charge, arms rested on the armrest while popping a grape in the mouth with lips painted red as the blood that flowed in her veins.

A creature with the body of a human- except for the extra pair of hands- and the head of a furry with antlers entered the hall, sitting opposite you. “Welcome to the house of Hudon!” he greeted, the gold on his antlers jingling like bells on Rudolph, “the finest whorehouse you would find in this system.”

“I will evaluate the ‘fine’ myself, Hudon,” you stated quite indifferently, your attention taken by a golden strawberry resting in your fingers, “how old is this rotten blasphemy.”

The anthems of rape, culture loud Crude and proud creatures baying

It was easy to get that accent on your tongue. The tone was smooth enough to show not much effort was being put to talk while the words were spoken like a dagger stabbing the listener with every breath.”

Hudon directed his men to take those old fruits away and to replace them with new ones. But you had already lost interest in them. Sitting straight up, you let your arms go back on the headrest, your suit jacket revealing the skin underneath, the acne on your chest from the sweat and dust revealing itself in full glory. Hudon nearly feels himself blackout with the sheer audacity of a human woman walk into his house and sit there as a client while making him- the one who runs the sex business- make him feel things that were quite transparent in his gaze.

All I've ever done is hide From our times when you're near me

“Here I am, out on a vacation from my boring home, looking for some fun and adventure when someone suggests to me your name and business,” you mutter loud enough for him to hear. “Hudon the hoarder. The one who has everything you can ask for. Anything out of your fantasy. You name it, he has it for you.”

“I do,” he agreed with a smile, interrupted just as he is about to start listing his merchandise.

“Oh, but I don’t think you do, Hudon.” You leaned forward, your legs still spread apart in those black trousers, your frame bent enough to reveal more and still reveal nothing at all, making Hudon’s eyes linger there far longer than he expected them to. “I don’t think you do. What could you possibly have that could seem human enough for my taste and yet not human at all, Hudon? What could you possibly have that could meet my demands, unlike the men on my planet? One who is not meant to be ruled and yet-” your voice turned to a whisper, and Hudon’s eyes were stuck on the hypnotising moment of your lips under that netted veil covering your smokey eyes- “he bends under my commands like a good dog because he knows he will get a treat if he behaves.”

Hudon gulped and blinked.

Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes I feel like a person for a moment of my life

“I am not here to have some cheap fun, Hudon. Nor some sloppy seconds. I want a challenge that I can smother between my thighs, making him question how he ended up there, under me. And then make him question how he can get under me, again.”

A silence proceeded your laced words. A long lingering silence which would have stretched even more had one of Hudon’s men not brought that shook fur-face back to the present.

“I I I I I think I have the perfect specimen for you, miss…”

“Lady. Lady...Morticia Addams,” you declared, blinking at Javier’s camera.

You: *cringing* I did not think this part through. But I did come up with a nice personality? *does a weak thumbs up*

“I will send for him immediately, Lady Morticia,” Hudon declared, getting and taking a bow, “and if he is not able to satisfy you, I will humbly present myself to you as a sacrifice.”

You: *deadpan* Pervert.

“If your specimen does not satisfy me, then mark my words, Hudon, you won’t find any piece of him in your excuse of a brothel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a weak voice, walking out and scolding his guards to get him ‘Silvertongue’.

You noticed the two guards still in the hall by the door, looking at you and your companions. Javier moved from his place by the fireplace to the door, to let the tiny camera- courtesy of the rainbow k-pop- strapped to his chest take in the patient steps of the man of the hour; at the same time, directing with his hands to Lulu to resume his score.

But you don't know what hell you put me through To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

Loki, bare-chested and in chains, was walked towards your hall with four guards- two on front and two on back. This was the first time any of the cameras had seen so much of his bare skin. Neither had they seen so many muscles on that body that seemed so lean on the outside with the clothes on. The raven hairs snaked around his shoulders while his eyes were set at the goal in front of him: you. And if you did not know any better you would have thought those peach curtains were flying right and left to get a one-touch, one whiff of that God.

To feel your weight in arms I'd never use It's the god that heroin prays to

You almost choked on the juice you were offered on seeing Loki like that- in just his pants. Like a healthy supermodel straight out of a pin-up hidden in your childhood drawer. Quickly recovering and changing into the persona created for this place you leaned back on the sofa to admire the view when all five men came to a halt in front of you.

It feels good, girl, it feels good It feels good, girl, it feels good

“Hm,” you muttered, your eyes going up and down an apparently tight-jawed Loki, “decent. Where did you catch this fish?”

“Caught him fresh in the market today,” Hudon’s henchman answered, surprisingly in an Australian accent, “owed our master for quite some time. Will finally pay his debts now.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good Oh, to be alone with you

The laugh that came out of the prude was murky. You got up and nonchalantly waved your hand to make the guards stand away from the merch, letting you get a good three-sixty view. Loki could feel your eyes on him even when you stood behind him, carefully studying these marks on an otherwise flawless skin that ran all over his back and some did on arms, right down his wrist.

A wave of emotion washed over you on seeing them, which you hastily veiled for the sharp eyes lurking in the background. Clearing your throat, you took out your silver hair stick from the bun at the back and walked to face the frost giant.

There are questions I can't ask Now, at last, the worst is over

“Sit,”  you commanded.

Loki’s eyes grew dark. The camera recorded the silent change of roles for a quick moment before Loki finally obeyed, getting down on his knees.

See the way you hold yourself Reel against your body's borders

You took a step to his side before looking at the guards still standing there. “What. You want in on the show as well?” Your raised-up brow was judging them hard at this moment.

The guards stood there looking at each other before one of them finally spilt. “We are not allowed to leave him alone with you till you sign the contract and make the payment.”

“Hm. Well, if that is the case-” you took another step to stand right behind Loki- “I will inspect this...merchandise before I make the payment.”

I know that you hate this place Not a trace of me would argue

The hair stick in your hand made its first contact with the bare skin on Loki’s back, promptly making his muscles move underneath that pale skin. A smile found its way to your lips. “Sensitive to touch, I see. I prefer virgin skin.” You dragged stick all the way from one end of those shoulder scales in the back to the other, taking light steps to move towards the front.

The camera zoomed in on the shadow of something brewing inside Loki’s eyes while his lips stretched ever so slightly with a thought only he knew. The stick came to the collar bone, travelling up his neck to land right below his chin, lifting it up to watch your tongue in between your teeth, peeking out for a look.

Honey, we should run away, oh, someday Our baby and her momma And the damaged love she made

“Say, boy,” you asked softly, letting the stick dig into that chin to raise it up further, “what does that mouth do.”

A chuckle rose in Loki’s chest and burst out to close his eyes before they could look at you in a new light. “They do things you wouldn’t want to know.”

But I don't know what else that I would do Than try to kiss the skin that crawls from you

Questioning- or pretending to question- his audacity you responded with a sly ‘uh-huh’ before getting down on one knee, letting both your arms rest on the other. “Well, it better-” your voice grew duskier by the minute while that thin stick landed on his lips, circling them- “do things unspeakable. Otherwise-” you gently pushed the stick in his mouth, and he took it in, wrapping his tongue around it- “what is the point of that pretty pretty mouth.”

Then feel your weight in arms I'd never use It's the god that heroin prays to

Javier could not help but record the drooling and uncomfortable faces of the guards standing by the door, half of them looking at each other, other half stuck on the hypnotic movements happening between the two of you; all of them standing with their hands hiding their bulges in those leather pants.

It feels good, girl, it feels good

“That tongue better work like it is the only thing that can save your life, pretty boy.” The low pitch of your voice was drowning the whole room. Your other knee too went down, allowing them to touch his as you sat down, your back arched and your chest moving closer to his. “It better work fast because I don’t like being made to wait. But it better not rush and ruin it for me either.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

The stick was still in his mouth with Loki’s lips sucking it good when he looked up at you and gave you a judgmental glare. With a gentle tug to the stick from his mouth, you took it away, down the trail it came from, down the chest, the perfect line between his abs and then somewhere further down where the guards could not see; but that did not mean they could not imagine.

It feels good, girl, it feels good

“Now, let’s see how good your hands work,” you ordered more than questioned, turning to Javier and nodding.

Javier nodded back and Lulu’s camera recorded him walking to the door to close and bolt it. The guards could not suppress their smiles, delighted at the thoughts of what was about to go down.

“You,” you pointed at Hudon’s henchman, gesturing to him to come close, “I want you to help me with these.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

More than eager to ‘help’ you, he skipped to where you now stood and Loki was still on his knees. “Yes. W-what can I help you with, my lady?”

Oh, to be alone with you

Your hands went down your shirt, into your bra and out came four silver balls the size of peas. “Are you done?”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

The henchman did not understand the question. Then came a click from below and Loki’s voice yelled, “NOW!”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

Oh, to be alone with you

A lot of things happened at the same time. Loki stabbed the man right in his calves while you threw those peas on the air; at the same time you and Javier ducked down to let those peas be attracted to the nearest form of flesh in their linear way, sticking to them to shock the living lights till they could see more galaxies in their vision. 

The henchman yelled in pain, down on his knee, which Loki took advantage of and stabbed him in his shoulder before wrapping his arm around his windpipe long enough to make him lose consciousness. 

You grabbed the other pin from your hair and with its pointy end pointed at the men still struggling with the aftermath of the shock, you stood in defence. “Everyone okay?”

The guards groaned. “I meant everyone I care about okay?”

Javier nodded and Lulu chirped, jumping onto your shoulder. You turned to Loki. “You okay?”

Loki nodded, grabbing the henchman’s gun and tucking it in his pants. “Oh, here.” Loki looked at you unbuttoning your suit jacket. “Woah, what are you-” and stopped when he saw a vest peeking from underneath as the shirt was thrown in his direction. “I am almost jealous of the endless choices of these for women here. Does it fit you?”

“It’s quite loose,” Loki absentmindedly responded while buttoning up, not comprehending that disappointed stare till it was too late. “I meant...it’s...how did you even get all of this stuff?”

“Ah, changing the topic, typical,” you muttered while dragging the guards behind the sofa, “I have friends besides you.”

The suspicion in Loki’s eyes suddenly changed to shock. “What are you doing with them?! I told you to stay away from those...those...Hardy-pop spawns; whatever you called them.”

“A, you never said that. B, I had to do something to help you out. C, get us out of here!”

Loki looked at you, about to speak something when he stopped, the camera panning in to watch the surprise colour his face. “You didn’t plan an escape.”

“Oh, no. I was thinking I should get into the prostitution business myself considering what a fine human specimen I am.”

Loki rolled his eyes and smacked the recuperating guard back into the ground before gesturing Javier to follow him out the door.

“I was also thinking how great it would be to settle down here because all I ever wanted was to live in an alien whorehouse. I mean, Silvertongue what? God of Mischief, who?”

“Fine! We get it,” Loki called out, leading you all straight down the corridor, “though you would have fit perfectly here.”

“Excuse me!”

“Oh I saw that look in your eyes!” Loki spat, “you played the character like it’s in your blood.” Loki pondered walking straight, “Well, Stark’s involved. So wanting to control naturally comes in your blood. But playing a full-blown Dominatrix?” Loki chuckled. “You feisty little witch.”

You pouted at his comment. “A Dominatrix! Coming from the one who used his tongue like a fucking lock pick machine to shape that metal thing into the exact pattern that could open your cuffs,” you uttered under your breath while trying to keep up with him till you ran smack into his back.

The door to the exit was closed as guards surrounded the reception from all four sides, cornering the four of you in the middle.

Lulu wrapped his fluffy arms around your neck, holding tight while his camera took in Hudon’s figure entering right where you had walked through. “I cannot believe I was played by a human,” he hissed.

“Wasn’t that hard, really. It’s like I opened my legs and boom! You were open for business,” you shrugged while Loki smacked your arm to shut you up.

“Guards!” Hudon shouted, “cuff them and throw them in the dungeons!”

Before the guards could take a step towards you all, you found yourself screaming, “wait!”

“I almost forgot,” you added, patting your vest and then your pants to find a little black box, “I was told to give this to you with the message ‘your ex says hi’.”

Hudon looked at the box placed in his hand. Javier’s camera captured you putting your fingers over Loki’s hand and dragging your index down towards the ground. Loki gave you a silent look before tangling his fingers in yours, moving Javier right behind him.

“Lulu,” you whispered discreetly, “you know what comes next right?”

Lulu purred a little before shifting to your back, his arms still secure around your neck. All eyes watched as a tweet rose from the box, increasing in pitch. And just like that it dropped in silence, the code for you four to duck down.

Loki was already shielding you with his body, his arm wrapped around you when the flash came and with it a crash. Hudon was enclosed in what looked like lit up ropes sparkling with electricity while the Hardy boys entered from the roof on ropes as smoothly as always.

“Your ex also said ‘time to die motherfucker’,” Mauve declared before electrocuting the furry.

“Seven years, Mauve,” Violet stressed with a shaking head, “it’s been seven years. Let it go.”

 Night Time at the Inn

Javier’s camera rested on the platform outside in the balcony that sat atop the inn to the view of the city. Javier himself was busy with the little yet powerful cameras in the shape of silver flies Violet was showing from his own collection. Lulu ran about chasing fireflies that glowed in multiple colours around him. A few even came and sat down on his fur, making him pause anything and everything he was doing so as not to scare them.

You walked in from the other room, showered and shampooed, in your old clothes cleaned and dried, throwing a quick glance at the surroundings before going straight for the figure sitting outside on the cemented boundary of the balcony looking down at the soft bustle and glow of this little city.

The platform was wide enough for two people but you still stood leaning on the door and knocked on the glass first. “Mind if I join you?”

Loki scooched over to the other side to make room for you. You got up and slid your butt and legs up, a lungful of the foreign air bringing with it the smell of all that was cooking in the streets. “Hmm, smells heavenly,” you hummed, letting your headrest on the brick wall behind.

When your senses had absorbed all there was to the night, you finally found the courage to speak.

[Lulu, still as a cat, clicks his belly to play Sweater Weather (feat. Fruitypoppin x Koven Wei]

“How are you doing?”

Loki’s head turned to look at you, his fingers still moving around the bracelets that did not let him use his full potential.

You shifted where you sat, scratching some itch in your head. “I mean, you okay? Like being forced into sex trafficking can leave a deeply rooted trauma if not addressed in time.”

Loki smiled and looked down at the bracelet. “I appreciate your concern. But I am fine. I have had worse”

Your lips parted in a gasp that was controlled in time. “...okay. Okay.”

His green eyes reflected the lights in a mellow hue under the brilliant duvet of stars above you. His stare had a pinch of something soft as he continued to look at you. “I also appreciate-” he shifted his glance to his arms right when you turned to look at him, adjusting the hem of the sleeve of his black t-shirt- “you not asking me about the scars.”

There was a shift of emotion visible in your eyes. A smile forced upon your lips that those y/e/c pupils betrayed. The unconscious movement of your fingers over your own arm, the repeated motion of them over the same place as if trying to soothe some underlying ache; none of it went unnoticed by those sharp smaragdines. Neither did the cage you tried to make around your waist, wrapping your arms around it, trying to block some invisible evil. “No problem-” you blinked and one of those flies recording you two zoomed in enough to see moisture gathering on the edges of your eyelids- “just know that whenever you are ready to talk, I will be there for you.”

Your smile widened, using your usual trick of letting your eyes close to hide that moisture, even adding in a chuckle here and there.

Loki had to take in a whole lot of air to bring the words out of him. “And I will be there when you need to talk about it too.”

The smile was gone. Knees were drawn closer to your chest. “Yeah, that might take ages,” you muttered as you rested your head on your knees.

“Good thing that I’m immortal then?” And the chuckle came back, bringing the stress in Loki’s shoulders down a little.

“What did you do to Hudon anyway? Why was he so pissed at you to force you to be one of his prostitutes?”

Loki groaned and let his head fall back. “I let all of his unwilling workers escape.”

You raised your brows in praise.

“While tricking him into thinking I was in love with him.”

And your jaw drops. “WHAT?!” you nearly screeched while Loki tried to shush you. “You...what?! Why??”

“Well, he comes from an orthodox planet that did not stand for the choices in the life partners he wanted. Which is why he ran away and opened brothels with no restrictions. I took...advantage of that knowledge to use him and run. From...my torturers.”

Loki’s eyes went to his arms. So did yours. “And in doing so I broke the heart of a man who was into bad trades. So I am the lesser evil here, for your information,” he recovered. 

“Yeah, freeing sex slaves and breaking a stone-cold bitch’s heart isn’t as much as evil as it is a ‘making the world a better place’, dude.” You acknowledged. “And I hope your torturers are dead otherwise they’re gonna catch these hands.”

A chortle left Loki, scaring the Lulu and making all the flies fly away from what had looked like a fluffy Christmas tree. “What, I’m serious.” A punch landed in his gut to show just how serious you were.

“Right. How do you think you will defeat them? Using black latex clothing, handcuffs, a whip and anal beads?”

You looked at the flying cam with a twist in your jaw while Loki laughed in the background.

You: I am too pissed right now to even question how he knows about anal beads.

“Haa haa. You laugh at the idea while I will actually be making them beg for mercy in leather bonds and chains,” you announced, angry at the God for losing it at the thought of you in that role again. “And I’ll definitely be doing a better job of a Dominatrix than you ever did.”

“You take that back.”

Lulu went around chasing the fireflies again while the two of you teased each other under the starry night far away from home, for the very first time not worrying about your way back, the music adding to the soothing colours brewing in the night.

 In the Darkness of The Lounge

All the ladies were lined up on the sofa, binging on drinks and popcorn in the dark, eyes stuck on the big screen when a sniffle was heard from behind them. All of them turned to watch a very worried Steve and Clint looking at Bucky and Scott sit next to them. Their faces glistened in whatever light came from the screen, the streaks of tears and swollen eyes visible even in the dark. Not to mention the blocked noses.

“Are you guys okay?” Wanda asked softly, never giving up what she saw in their minds.

Both of them nodded.

“Are you crying for Loki right now?” Clint asked with a hint of disgust in his voice, earning a smack from Natasha.

“No,” Bucky grunted from the midst of his tear wave while Scott shook his head in agreement. “I’m crying because this stupid bowl in my hand does not have any more popcorn.”

“Yeah,” Scott bawled, “I am mad at this stupid bowl too. Come, let’s get some more popcorn.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed in his hoarse voice, still crying as they got up and went away, past the kitchen and into the elevator while the rest watched them silently till the doors closed. 

“They forgot their popcorn bowl,” MJ pointed out. Clint looked at her in confusion. “Who are you?”

“None of your concern,” she replied, making Clint feel a little jolt of ‘the audacity of this kid’.

“Should weeee,” Pepper stretched the words in her whisper, unsure of how they would be seen, “watch the part with Loki and the Dominatrix again?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Natasha whispered back, happy to have recorded the live broadcast. Wanda adjusted herself and MJ passed the soda cans across the row.

Clint watched the ladies in shock while Steve sat there in hollow surprise, waiting for the screen to go back to the scene as heartfelt wails of two people could be heard from the garden outside with the words ‘so soft’ and ‘my heart ow my heart’.

[rawiswhore]

Raven x Fem Reader- “That’s So Raven”

Believe it or not, I think there's nothing wrong with men, guys and boys who don't watch women's wrestling or even professional wrestling in general to get their dicks hard, but I was watching this segment during ECW's heyday in the 90's where Sandman's wife was writhing on Raven, sliding her hands down his body and looking like she's giving him a blowjob, and I thought that was hot/sexy.

Although, it wasn't just hot because of her, and she wasn't really a wrestler, neither was her husband (no offence to Sandman)...

________________________________________________________________

Breaking out from playing that corny Pauly Shore lookalike named Scotty Flamingo he played in WCW and that dorky but unique Johnny Polo gimmick he played in the WWF, Scott Levy has now entered a wrestling company that was the polar opposite of the WWF and WCW during the mid 1990's: ECW, and he now is known as something he'll always be remembered for, an angst ridden, whiny, depressed, and sometimes even sociopathic grunge kid named Raven.

Raven and ECW are perfect for the 90's, not only was grunge immensly popular during that decade, but ECW was edgy, dark, nihilistic, "extreeeeem" and badass, much like the 90's.

Even though he did get hotter and sexier when he joined WCW, Raven was probably one of the few wrestlers in ECW who was pretty sexy and nice to look at, even though his curly hair is hiding his face most of the time.

During his time in ECW, before he joined WCW, there was a segment where he was sitting down in the corner of the ring, his usual and even signature pose.   Several people in the audience were watching him, and this was even being filmed and broadcast on television.   You were on the opposite side of Raven across from him.  

The lids of your eyes had dark colored eyeshadow covering them, you were dressed in a skimpy outfit; a black tube top and black pleather short shorts, your outfit blended perfectly with ECW's fight club atmosphere, especially considering most of the women in ECW were just there to be eye candy fap material.

You slowly began crawling towards Raven, crawling to him like you were Shakira in the "Whenever Wherever" music video when she's crawling in the mud, crawling to him like Britney Spears in the "I Love Rock n Roll" video when she's crawling on the floor.

You looked like a black panther, cheetah or leopard on the prowl, and you were looking at him like you wanted him, smiling from ear to ear wickedly.

As you crawled up to him, the males in the audience were getting a massive kick out of you sexually crawling up to him, standing up out of their seats and filling the room up with roars and cheers,  some of them even making those silly "wolf whistles" at you.

"Mmmmm, mmmmmmmm, y/n!" Joey Styles exclaimed. "Gives new meaning to 'Come Out and Play'!"

Get it?

Because Raven's entrance theme when he was in ECW was the Offspring's "Come Out and Play", and you were coming out and about to play with him.

Raven, meanwhile, didn't seem all that amused.

He still had that little scowl on his face and didn't seem to be mildly interested in you.

Some people in the audience are probably thinking Raven is a homosexual for not being sexually aroused by a beautiful half naked woman crawling up to him like Lady Gaga in the "Bad Romance" video when she's crawling on the floor.

Joey Styles is the commentator in ECW, and even though he wasn't being filmed, he joked that it's a good thing Raven wears those flannels tied around his waist to hide something, try to guess what that joke is.

Joey figures you're trying to seduce Raven with the way you're dressed.

When you had approached Raven, close enough to touch him, you lifted one of your hands from the ring and moved a few strands of his curls out of the way so you could look at his handsome face he's hiding behind those Ramen Noodle-like curls.

He still had no emotion on his face, if anything, his face looked really depressed, grouchy and unamused.

Well, maybe this might tickle his fancy, literally.

That same hand that brushed his curls out of his face grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him closer to you, until your lips locked with his, your eyes closing when your lips collided with his.

Even his eyes shut when his lips locked with yours.

This got a massive pop from the audience, the audience roaring and cheering even louder than before, including some males making those same corny wolf whistles at you.

Though, the audience was probably expecting you to do something like this, considering you were crawling up to him sexually and dressed like you wanted to seduce him.

"Oh my God!" Joey shrieked off camera, sounding like a mixture of Jerry Lawler during his commentary days and Rowdy Roddy Piper, his eyes bugging out and pretending to be shocked, though isn't it obvious you were gonna make out with Raven?

You started making out and kissing Raven, your lips were sucking in between his lips and eventually separating from his mouth by an inch, only to join again by your lips nudging his lips.

He isn't putting his hands on you and pushing you away, and that's a good thing.

The camera filming this is zooming in on your face and his making out with each other.

You were making out with him like Cardi B at the beginning of her "Press" music video when she's making out with some other woman, his top lip in between your lips.

Sometimes, you kissed him long and not let your lips separate from his, having his lips in between yours and sucking that long kiss (and you don't mean suck as in something is terrible).

You even managed to slip him the tongue, your tongue lolling out of your mouth and licking up his tongue.

Some people in the audience could even see that you were French kissing him.

"I saw some tongue!" Joey Styles exclaimed and shrieked.

Raven, however, isn't really licking your tongue back.

The audience, meanwhile, is enjoying this, some of them were even chanting "Raven's got a wood-y!" over and over again, like when Stevie Richards made out with Missy Hyatt.

Raven does have an erection deep down, but he's playing a moody, angst ridden, depressed grunge kid who wants to be left alone.

Could even you, a sexually attractive half naked woman sexually crawling up to him give a cynical, nihilistic grunge brat an erection?

He can't be that depressed, can he?

Hey, y'know, sex can cure depression, can't it?

Your tongue moved from his mouth to under his chin, where your tongue stroked and licked his facial hair, his stubble short, rough and bristly, like sandpaper.

This got a shock and surprise from the men in the audience, seeing you lick his slight little beard.

But the crowd still seemingly loved it, cheering for you and even wolf whistling at you.

Joey Styles was pretending to be shocked and surprised, since this was all rehearsed, his eyes growing wide at you licking his facial hair and his voice shrill and high pitched.

"Oh mah Gawd!" Joey shrieked, his voice the same shrill, annoying Southern accent "Is she licking him?!"

No duh. What else are you doing?

You could nearly roll your eyes every time Joey shrieked out his "oh mah Gawd!" catchphrase.

Raven though, still wasn't all that amused, his eyes were staring at you licking the facial stubble under his chin.

Thank goodness you weren't wearing lipstick because then Raven would end up getting lipstick on his lips.

[ayashiki-i-i]

Last Friday, I had the absolute joy and privilege to see Be More Chill in London!

(Yes, last Friday, this has been sitting in my drafts for over a week because I couldn’t figure out how to appropriately convey my delight with this show, and also yes, joy and privilege, call me dramatic but I swear to god nothing on this Earth makes me appreciate my life quite as live theatre.)

I have loved this show for a very long time. Not quite since its first Two Rivers Theatre run, but very early on from when it caught the internet’s attention. I was at the start of what was to become a viral sensation, and I was with the show, rooting for it, hoping for it, ever since. I feel like I walked the journey from crossing million hits on Spotify to the Broadway alongside the cast and creators. I felt immensely happy and proud for these people I never met when they announced their off-Broadway return, and I honest to god cried the day they opened on Broadway. Needless to say, I was overjoyed, literally jumping with happiness, when they announced they will stage a production on West End. Or technically off-West End? I’m still very confused how The Other Palace is not West End and Victoria Palace literally around the corner is West End... Anyway. I have not walked into that theatre on Valentine’s Day with low expectations.

And my Mount Everest high expectations were far, far exceeded and shot somewhere into the stratosphere.

I really can’t with words describe how much I loved this show. Joes Iconis and Tracz managed to hit some very special spot with this musical. It’s truly hard to describe, but this show just makes you happy. It makes you involved and interested. And I gotta tell you, I think we hit the press night, because there was a bunch of people (very respectfully) scribbling on their pads and iPads during the show, so this wasn’t an audience primed and geared for this type of musical. And that’s not even counting all the parents chaperoning their teenagers. And I can guarantee you everyone had a great time. During the intermission I went to get a drink and witnessed several conversations between aforementioned parents that all pretty much amounted to “wow, this is actually good!” It’s honestly such a treat to be in an audience that’s genuinely enjoying themselves.

This show is funny, and heartfelt, and charming. So charming. It has somehow a vibe of a really well done high school production, which could maybe sound like a criticism but i swear it isn’t!

I haven’t seen much of the previous productions, except few clips from the Two Rivers bootleg slime tutorial, but I really tried not to watch too much, hoping against hope there will be a revival one day (I try not to watch shows I have a chance of seeing one day. I’m fortunate to have the chance of having the full experience live so I try not to ruin it for myself lol). I gobbled up all the official promo clips and videos from the NYC revival, being super unlucky and managing to plan my New York trip in that small window when BMC just closed Off-Broadway and before it got on Broadway. I haven’t even listened to the Broadway recording, because by the time it came out I knew they’ll be staging a production over here. So i went in quite blind. With all that previous ado, this is how it was:

The book is so good. So so good. Many times when I fall in love with an album, the actual musical doesn’t hold up because the book doesn’t compare (hi, Dear Evan Hansen). But BMC is as engaging and fun between the songs as during them. Tbh I don’t love the changes to the songs they made, but I don’t really hate them either... Now having listened to the Broadway recording they reverted somewhat back to the original album on West End and I’m happy they did, but still. Especially Pitiful Children did not deserve the cuts. But I mean its still mostly the same album and it’s brilliant and fun, and ok, Looser, Geek or Whatever is a bop.

(Although I always kinda liked that Jeremy didn’t have a typical big “hero song” because he keeps mentioning how he isn’t a hero and it was kinda ironic that his own show refused him the hero treatment, but the song is solid.)

This cast is EVERYTHING. I’m sorry all previous casts, I love you and I respect you but i really think the British cast is (so far) the peak? Obviously as I said I don’t have the full picture to compare, but honestly these guys are all so good and I can’t imagine anyone else in these roles, they set the bar so high. Yes, even Michael. Omg I’m so sorry George Salazar! This role is his in a very special way, and I feel blasphemous saying this! But that’s what makes Blake Patrick Anderson so special, because I didn’t think I will ever be able to accept another Micheal than George Salazar. But from the first moment Anderson appears on stage, you don’t think of George Salazar. This right here is a Micheal and that’s it. I think he’s slightly less... Manic, than Salazar, and more caring, but also more stubborn, and nerdy. My friend said after the first act the character’s problem is that he’s a bit too likeable and it’s almost unbelievable he would be a social outcast and she was right. The dude is so damn likeable! So charming, so positive. And then Micheal in the Bathroom hits and omg does it hit. Also Blake Patrick Anderson has a really long name is very pretty. A+ snack. I’m in love. Scott Folan is, uh, I don’t really love him vocally... Ok I liked him until Loser Geek of Whatever. I don’t know, maybe it wasn’t his day. Or maybe that song is just written for Will Roland and no one will ever measure up? Tbh I haven’t seen Roland sing it live so who knows, maybe it is one of those songs that’s hard to perform without yelling a bit. Praying circle for the West End cast album? However Scott Folan’s acting is a masterclass. He’s so awkward in the first act, so sad, but also sweet. Actually I said i didn’t love his singing but when his voice cracks all over in his first few songs it’s superb and also his “Christiiine~” is really beautiful and lovely, so, dunno *shrugs*. And then in the second half he totally sells his confidence and assholer-y and like... They seem like two different jeremys, the squipped and un-squipped one. But ultimately he just gives such good-kid vibes. He seems like the perfect midpoint between Will Connolly’s shy Bambi and Roland’s geeky recluse. This Christine is absolutely feral. Like, you have no idea. Some people commented on the video of I Love Play Rehersal from the rehearsals that this Christine is not chaotic enough, so I’m seriously worried how chaotic Stephenie Hsu was? :D In any case Miracle Chance I thought was perfect, the ideal mixture of quirky but relatable, sweet but strong. Also she is hilarious. I’m pretty sure she got the most laugh out of the audience, not just because the actress’s absolutely perfect comedic timing but also that role is so well written. Like you really can’t get the full idea of this character until you watch the show, you know? It’s very layered, but each layer is easy to get so she makes a really fun character to watch. The Squip is hot. Like so hot. And his costumes are wonderful. And I know I’m not the only one who didn’t love Jason Tam’s accent as Squip and like... I think I know what he was going for but it just doesn’t work for me. This Squip is a lot more like Eric William Morris, just more hot. Oh yeah I mean the dude is fantastic actor too, and his voice is something impressive, but mostly I was just thinking “hot” whenever he was on stage :D James Hameed’s Rich is vocally stunning. By far the best Squip Song I have ever heard. Also he has Pickle Rick tattoo?? It’s fucking brilliant I HATE IT! :D Millie O’Connel is perfect of course. She has such a presence on stage. It was hilarious when she came out after the show, with her hair down and make-up off and said hi and people mostly kinda ignored her cause... She’s really a hurricane on stage and when she dials it down just a notch I really think people don’t connect her to her stage persona :D

(Also like, massive kudos to The Other Palace’s stage door, cause they allow you to just hang around the bar where the cast has to go through to leave the place, so no dirty alleyways stage dooring in rain and cold and possible pickpockets around.)

I really loved the staging, and it’s very small, very minimal, which isn’t something I normally like, so well done! They definitely dialled back from the Broadway (the bean bags are back!) and honestly the minimal props and simple set really suit this show. It adds to that almost-like-a-really-good-school-play charm. But also they have this massive LED screen as the background so they can change and move and animate their backdrop and it’s honestly so impressive. The artwork is so perfectly in line with the show’s aesthetic. And it’s building up and up towards the show’s climax which I thought was pretty subtle and pretty neat creative decision.

Ugh this is so long I didn’t think it would be so long :D But I have one criticism I cannot not mention. And I kinda always had this, but seeing it live it jumps out on me more - I don’t feel Jeremy and Christine :| I mean don’t get me wrong. The actors have amazing chemistry, their added song is the one that I actually really like and it makes sense, there’s so much more meaningful interaction they have in the show than the songs wold suggest. But. It still doesn’t quite sit well. Besides the fact that I don’t think the show’s narrative is about Jeremy getting the girl - that’s not really his character arc. But also, although they’re not incompatible, he gets the girl he doesn’t even really know, and she definitely doesn’t know him. I think I would prefer if they just stayed friends at the end, but if there had to be romantic conclusion... Well, I mean who doesn’t ship boyf friends, but seriously if Michael was a girl I’m pretty sure he’d be the romantic endgame for Jeremy. You know the type, the old friend who was by the protagonists side and believed in him all along? Yeah. But besides that, i was surprised to find I kinda liked Jeremy with Brooke too? I mean they have the same problem as Jeremy and Christine, with not knowing each other and all that, but at least it’s mutual, and they seemed to have a spark. But maybe it’s just because I unexpectedly really, really loved Brooke (she doesn’t have much space on the album and no one ever really talks about her, why does no one really talk about her???). She defies a lot of her archetype, she seems like such a sweet person. I guess I would just like to see more of her, and more depth to her, which a romance with the protagonist would’ve given her.

But tbh the show devotes a lot more time than I thought it would for Christine and Jeremey’s relationship to develop and it isn’t unrealistic, so it ended up being a pretty minor issue, which i though would be a bigger one.

Tl;dr (oh my god why is this so long????) this show is everything I wanted and more. The West End cast is amazing, charming and delightful and each of them is perfectly cast to really embody their character, while giving some fresh outlook on characters I thought I knew very well and filling very big shoes of the original cast I thought couldn’t be replaced. Also I didn’t talk to any of them but they spend a long time hanging out with the fans after the show and seemed genuinely super nice and pleased with the love the show is getting. The book is more than an equal partner to the music I already was in love with (also Joe Iconis was at the show I saw! I didn’t talk to him because I’m me and I will forever regret it!). The Other Palace’s staging and direction is wonderful, and the choreography is impressive and very on brand with the rest of the show, very modern, very electro and robot. I enjoyed every second and the standing ovation at the end was well deserved.

Just to re-affirm how much I loved this show - just few days after seeing it I booked a ticket to go see it again almost immediately lol. So if anyone is seeing it this Wednesday 26th Feb and you can telepathically pick me in the audience come say hello!

(Or like, drop me a message like a normal person if you’re also going alone and want to meet with someone to seem less like a weirdo! :D)

[vnderoos]

fight club ❁ isaac lahey

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language, an unprecedented ass-grabbing, punching, mentions of blood, mentions of underaged drinking, and some fluffy stuff to make you smile word count / 4.6k

masterlist in bio ↴

ANOTHER SWEATY BODY stumbled back against Y/N as she fought her way through what felt like a mosh pit of drunk teenagers. "Excuse me," she grunted as the person carelessly knocked her into the wall, the motion resulting in some of the amber liquid inside of her plastic cup sloshing over the rim and onto her hand. She glanced disgustedly at the beer trickling down her wrist and she wiped it off on her jeans. All Y/N had wanted to do was find Peyton, her designated driver, and leave, but instead, she was covered in beer. "Mind watching where you're going, please?" She jabbed half-heartedly, the alcohol running through her system causing a few of her words to mingle together.

The blonde hair of the girl who'd bumped into her flew by in a blur as she whipped around to look at Y/N. Her eyebrows—illuminated by the dim lighting of Lydia Martin's party—were noticeably furrowed at first, but when her brown eyes gave Y/N a once over, her expression softened. "Oh, my God," she uttered, reaching out to Y/N in a guilty manner with her free hand. "Honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you there," the girl explained with undeniable sincerity—and the lingering effects of a few shots—laced in her voice and written all over her face as she spoke.

Y/N, who suddenly felt really bad about snapping at her, shook her head softly. "No, no, you're totally fine," she reassured her with a nervous laugh, hoping it'd be enough to bury the fact that she almost wigged out at this poor girl. "I don't even know why I was such a bitch about it, I'm sorry," she apologized, putting some of the blame on herself and flashing the girl an awkward smile.

She only nodded her head, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards slightly as she tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear. "Don't worry about it, girl. Go have a good time," she suggested, shooting off a playful wink as she brought her cup to her lips.

"You, too," Y/N replied, her smile becoming a little more certain as the interaction ended exceptionally better than she'd imagined. The blonde flashed her a drunken grin and sent her off with a flittering wave of her fingers, which Y/N repaid with a casual flick of her hand, and the girl turned back around to face her friends.

When Y/N remembered what she'd been doing before the girl had knocked into her, which was looking for her ride, she started moving again. Her eyes scanned over dozens of heads bobbing to the music and flitted over tons of faces, but none of them were Peyton. She continued to push between and around people, though, muttering excuse me's and a couple of excuse you's as she did.

If she was being honest, she didn't feel like looking for Peyton anymore. There were so many people and so many rooms in this giant house and, being the tired, drunken girl that she was, all Y/N wanted to do was find a nice, empty room to take a nap in. She didn't change course, though, because putting in the extra energy to make it to her own bed seemed more worthwhile than hopping under the covers of a stranger's.

She hardly got to take another step before she felt a hand, large and rough, against her ass. Her movements faltered as the hand squeezed harshly, the fingertips of whoever it belonged to digging into her flesh.

Without waiting another beat, Y/N whirled around, the beer in her cup splashing onto her skin again. She decided to ditch the cup on a coffee table to her right before switching her attention back to the tall, bulky, brunette asshole who thought it was a good idea to touch her ass without permission. There was a crooked smirk on his face and his eyes were bloodshot, but his intoxicated state didn't justify his behavior in the slightest. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She yelled, a scowl tugging at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"OH, SHIT," Isaac hissed as he carefully avoided yet another flailing arm, swerving expertly around the Solo cup to avoid the contents spilling out of it. He moved a bit further to the edge of the crowd, figuring his chances of getting doused in Budweiser were far less on the outskirts. He continued to look over everyone, though, searching for the familiar spastic movements of Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall's crooked jawline, and the telltale signs of the rest of his friends.

Unfortunately, he'd been looking for them for the past twenty minutes, but he'd had no luck finding any of them. His eyes kept mulling over the same familiar faces of his peers and, at one point, he'd thought about asking someone for help, but he doubted that any of these people were sober enough to give him any valuable information. He kept moving as much as he didn't want to anymore, knowing he'd find them sooner or later, but after a while, something caught his eye.

A girl—attractive, alone, and a decent distance away from him—spun around so fast he thought she might topple over, but instead, she set her cup down on a table and glared daggers at the guy in front of her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He could hear her spit from across the room, humility and disgust radiating off of her. If Isaac had been anybody else, her voice would've been drowned out by the loud music, but since he was a werewolf, he filtered through the pulsing of the beat to pick up what she was saying.

Either way, he would've known she was uncomfortable because of the unmistakable anger written on her face.

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. He looked at the buff guy in front of her, who smirked triumphantly down at her as he held a near-empty bottle of beer in his grasp. "Just havin' a little fun, babygirl," he slurred and that was all Isaac needed to hear to know that the dude was completely shitfaced.

"That doesn't mean you can grab my ass without my permission, you prick," the girl hissed and Isaac's eyes widened.

At this point, he felt like maybe he should intervene. Instead of continuing to look for his friends, he started to make his way over to the girl. Getting her away from that intoxicated dickhead became his new objective.

Y/N WASN'T just disgusted; she was absolutely repulsed. This jerkoff just tried to justify groping her ass by calling it 'a little fun' and then, he had the nerve to call her 'babygirl'? She wanted to puke so bad at that, she could almost taste the bile in her throat. "That doesn't mean you can grab my ass without my permission, you prick," she growled at him, but the guy laughed.

He shrugged his broad shoulders and took an unnecessary swig of his beer. "Well, if you didn't shake it in my fucking face, we wouldn't be having this problem," he snarled, his crude behavior suddenly turning aggressive, and anger bubbled up under her skin at his useless excuses.

Y/N let her arms fall to her sides and she clenched her fists. "I didn't shake anything in your face, dude," she hissed. "I was literally walking by you, minding my own goddamn business, and you grabbed my ass!" She shouted, earning a few glances from people around them.

The only person who seemed sober enough to actually care what was going on was a tall, well-built boy with a mop of curly brown hair on top of his head. He stepped into Y/N's vision, his hands reaching out to brush against her shoulders. "Are you okay?" He asked, but she didn't hear him. She didn't even register that he was standing right in front of her.

She didn't register anything except the white hot rage and the dribble of alcohol inside of her, so she drew her arm backwards, whammed her fist against the first thing in sight, and listened to the satisfying crack as it collided with something.

Instead of getting the ideal cry of pain from the pervert who'd grabbed her ass, the curly-haired guy who just suddenly appeared brought his hands to his nose and staggered backwards. "Holy shit," he exclaimed, blinking a few times because his head was fucking spinning. He regained his balance after a few seconds, but there was a waterfall of blood gushing down his face and between his fingers.

Confusion swirled around in Y/N's mind as she watched this tall, extremely cute lacrosse player contort his face in pain until it clicked. "Oh, my God," she whispered quickly, glancing behind him only to realize that her violator was long gone and this guy had just been trying to help. "I'm so, so sorry," she blurted, stepping towards him and reaching out to hesitantly, but gently, grab his elbows.

His hands were still cupped over his face and he gave her a wide-eyed look. "What the hell?" He asked and his voice was slightly high-pitched. His eyes darted back and forth, searching her expression for any kind of explanation for why she'd just sucker-punched him in the nose.

Her face washed over with a mixture of guilt and concern as she looked at him and she shook her head rapidly. "I didn't mean to do that, I swear," she protested, but he didn't seem to be buying it. "I've had a few drinks and I was aiming for that asshole. I was so mad I didn't even realize you stepped between us, I'm so sorry," she apologized, her thumbs brushing over the skin on his elbows gently.

Isaac scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, fight club," he hummed unenthusiastically, and she laughed nervously at the nickname. He slowly brought his hands off of his face and she took her hands off of his elbows so that they could both assess the damage.

The entire bottom half of his face and the palms of his hands were smeared in red and Y/N widened her eyes at the sight. "Oh, God," she muttered, before taking one of his blood-stained hands in hers. "I'm gonna help you clean this up and get you some ice, okay?" She told him, but it seemed like more of a statement than an offer, so he nodded his head.

She started to pull him in the direction of the kitchen but after a few steps, she paused and looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm Y/N, by the way," she introduced herself, flashing him a small smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He shook his head softly and let out a dry laugh. "I'm Isaac," he replied. She grinned at his response, though, happy that she hadn't ruined all chances of a friendship, and she started to tug him to safety once more.

It didn't take long before Y/N was guiding Isaac gently into the empty kitchen, leading him to the other end so that they stood in front of the sink. "Just..." she trailed off, letting go of his hand and tilting his head upwards so that he was looking at the ceiling. "Stay like that so you don't get blood everywhere and I'll clean you up," she instructed, missing the amused curve of his lips as she turned to grab a wad of paper towels. She turned on the faucet and ran them underneath the tap.

When she turned back around to face Isaac, she stumbled over her own two feet and just about into the side of the kitchen island. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he blurted, breaking his eye contact with one of the lightbulbs above them, and he hurriedly reached out to steady her. His hands clasped around her elbows and a small giggle spilled from her mouth. "You good?" He asked and she nodded her head.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied confidently and Isaac let his hands fall back at his side. "You're the one with a bloody nose," she added, smiling to herself when he rolled his eyes.

Isaac huffed. "I wonder why," he teased and she laughed, picking up one of his hands and wiping off the blood with her wet paper towel.

Y/N glanced up at him with an infectious smile on her face, but he could still smell the guilt on her. "I'm really sorry about that, by the way," she confessed again. "If I was in my right mind, that never would've happened," she explained.

He nodded his head as she spoke. "It's fine, really. Happens more often than you'd think," he told her with a note of amusement playing in his voice. She didn't seem to think anything of it, though. "Plus, I can't really blame you for wanting to deck a guy like that," he continued, but he regretted it the second that her cheery expression fell awkward.

Instead of saying anything else, Y/N let go of his hand and carefully grabbed his other one, working on cleaning that one off, too. He watched her intently as she put all of her attention on shining him up, studying the way her eyebrows knitted with focus and the way her lips pressed together in concentration.

There was a lot of irony in their situation, if you thought about it. I mean, he was completely sober and, somehow, there was a drunk girl taking care of him.

A few more seconds of Y/N scrubbing away at his palm and wiping away whatever had trickled onto his forearm passed before a drop of blood landed on her wrist. She looked up at Isaac, her cheeks flushing red when she found his eyes already on her, and she held her hand up to him. "Isaac, you're dripping," she pointed, her voice laced with a combination of concern and nerves.

"Oh, sorry," he told her. His eyebrows quirked upwards at that and he went to look back up at the ceiling, but she shook her head.

"It's okay, I'll just wipe your nose off and see if there's an icepack somewhere," she said and he didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't need one. Not that it didn't hurt, because damn, she had one hell of an arm, but because of the accelerated healing that came with being a werewolf.

Instead, he nodded and dipped his head down into her reach. She smiled sympathetically up at him, cupping the side of his jaw delicately with one of her hands and starting to wipe the blood away with the other. The paper towel was cool against his heated skin and, if he was being truthful, it felt nice to not have to deal with the mess on his own for once.

"Thank you for doing this," he told her when she pulled the paper towel away from his face, wiping the excess water off on the sleeve of his shirt.

Y/N nodded her head and made her way over to the freezer, dropping the soaked paper towel into the trash can on her way. "It's the least I can do after punching you in the face," she responded and they both laughed at that. "But you're welcome," she said more seriously, glancing at him over her shoulder and smiling warmly. There was something about seeing her grin crookedly at him, her features illuminated by the light of the freezer, that made his heart flutter, but he chose to ignore it. He leaned against the countertop when she turned away, instead. "Hey, there's no icepacks in here," she said, ice crunching as she sifted through the bags and boxes. "Are frozen peas alright?" She questioned, pulling the bag of frozen vegetables out of the bottom and holding it up for him to see.

Isaac nodded at that, knowing that frozen peas were the next best thing to an actual icepack, and she shut the freezer. He watched her as she stepped back over to him, wobbling very slightly as she did, and she hopped up onto the counter beside him. "Here," she hummed, dropping them into his hands when he held them out.

"Thanks," he told her, pressing the peas over his nose to humor her.

A minute or two of silence fell over them after that and they each avoided looking at each other, their eyes flickering over different objects in the room instead. Isaac tapped the fingertips of his free hand against the counter and Y/N knocked the heel of her shoe against the cabinet absentmindedly as they sat there.

Y/N glanced over at Isaac quickly, silently admiring his features that weren't covered by the bag. He had a mess of beautiful, brown curls and his blue eyes were nothing short of enchanting. His jawline was sharp, his eyebrows were full, and she didn't even want to get started on how kissable his lips looked in the moment. God, he was really handsome.

She looked at him a little while longer until he peeked over at her. She focused her attention on something in front of her quickly, her cheeks warming up at the fact that she'd just been caught staring. "So, I just realized it, but I think you're in my English class," she pointed out randomly, just hoping to break the barrier of awkward silence that had formed between them.

She looked back at him and he furrowed his eyebrows slightly, analyzing her features carefully. "Oh, yeah," he said in realization. "I guess I didn't recognize you right away because I usually only see the back of your head," he added and she shrugged.

"Maybe," she answered. "And I guess I didn't recognize you because I usually don't see you at all, so," she trailed off and Isaac chuckled at her revision to his own words. Just another negative of sitting in the front, she thought to herself.

He shifted his position so that he held the bag of peas against his nose with his other hand. "No offense, but I never took you as a party person," he said, glancing down at the floor before looking back up at her.

Y/N scoffed. "That's because I'm not," she explained. "I don't know if you know Peyton James, but she was the one who asked me to come tonight. I mean, free booze, chips and dip, and some quality best friend time? How could I refuse?" She joked, ending her sentence with a mockingly glamorous tone of voice.

Isaac cracked a smile. "Well, if you're having fun, that's what counts, I guess," he told her.

She laughed and shook her head. "Fun's not exactly the word I'd use to describe it," she said. "I'm covered in the booze, the chips were stale, Peyton ditched me, and some creep touched my butt," she explained, rolling her eyes at the mention of the pervert from earlier.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I mean, not about the guy touching your butt, just the 'everything-gone-wrong' part," he agreed. "I came here to hang out with my friends and I literally haven't seen them the whole time I've been here."

"Oh, so you've just been floating around the whole time?" Y/N asked, watching as he switched between hands again.

Isaac shrugged. "Kind of, I guess. I mean, I've been texting them but nobody's answered and I couldn't find them, so I pretty much have been walking around for the past half hour."

Y/N made a face at that and she sighed. "Yeesh," she breathed, leaning back on the palms of her hands. "I've kind of been doing the same. I was trying to find Peyton when I ran into that guy but, luckily, I have a few beers in my system and I wasn't looking for long, so I'm not too upset about it anymore."

"I don't drink, so I've just been bored out of my mind," he admitted. "Well, up until now, at least."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You're not drunk?"

Isaac shook his head. Due to the superhuman rate of his metabolism, he processed alcohol way too quickly to feel the effects of it. He couldn't exactly tell her that, though, so he decided to go with a different reason. "No, I don't like what it does to people," he told her and she squinted her eyes at him curiously. "When I was growing up, my dad," he paused, shaking his head. "He sucked when he was sober, so when he got drunk—" he stopped when his voice cracked unexpectedly, snippets of the way his childhood was—slaps, bruises, and broken glass—flashed through his head. He opened his mouth to keep going, though, because he felt strangely connected to her, but Y/N set her hand on his bicep to stop him. It was weird how comforting her touch was considering how little he knew about her.

She offered him a reassuring smile. "Seems like it was rough for you," she told him, giving his arm a squeeze, and he nodded his head. "We can talk about something else, though. I don't mind," she told him.

Isaac flashed her a grateful smile. "Yeah, like how much this party blows," he said, switching hands on the makeshift ice pack again.

"Here, I'll hold it," she offered and Isaac nodded, handing her the bag of peas.

"I'll move so it's easier." He pushed himself off of the counter and stepped in front of her, blushing slightly when she moved her knees apart. Y/N gestured for him to slot himself between them and he did, albeit hesitantly.

She laughed softly at the way his cheeks tinted pink and she held the peas back against his face. Truth be told, Isaac really wasn't hurting anymore, but he kind of wanted the excuse to get closer to her. He was a little nervous at first, that him being so near to her would make her feel uncomfortable or violated, but she seemed alright. She seemed content as she held the peas gently against his nose, a small smile set on her lips.

Y/N's eyes fluttered over his own briefly and her smile grew. "It's not so bad, though," she whispered and his eyebrows quirked upwards as if to urge her to continue. "I had a cute guy come to my rescue," she admitted a little bit louder and Isaac's heart skipped a beat in his chest.

His cheeks flared with color, a nervous laugh bubbling out of his lips, and Y/N beamed at him. The way he smiled at her words was beyond adorable and she leaned forward a little bit. Not to kiss him, but just because she was super comfortable with the fact that she'd just called him cute.

Usually, she wasn't that bold, but she was kind of thankful for the liquid courage in her system, because his reaction was the cutest freaking thing she'd ever seen.

He tried to fight the goofy grin that tugged at the corners of his lips, but he couldn't, and he wasn't really sure why. "Well, yeah, I guess it's not all garbage," he agreed quietly. "I mean, I did get punched in the nose, but the girl who did it is really pretty, so," he confessed lightly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he did.

As the words left his mouth, it was Y/N's turn to grow pink and her stomach did a backflip in her abdomen. "Not fair, Isaac," she teased him, pushing playfully on his shoulder, and he laughed. "You totally jacked my move."

Instead of continuing the banter, he just chuckled again and he gently took the bag of peas out of her hand. He dropped the bag in the sink and he sighed softly, slipping out from between her legs and leaning back against the counter. "So, look," he started. "Can I ask you something kinda weird?" He questioned randomly.

Y/N shrugged. "Well, I'm drunk, so this might be your only chance," she joked and he rolled his eyes. "I'm kidding. Go ahead," she told him, urging him on.

Isaac nodded. "So, I get that we don't really know each other, but I'm kind of tired," he explained. "I don't know where your friend is and I wouldn't feel right leaving you here all by yourself, so, since I'm sober, do you want me to take you home?" He asked.

Honestly, Y/N had been waiting for some sort of stupid question that would change her opinion about this boy completely, but then, he pulled that on her. It was nothing short of thoughtful and it made her feel a little fuzzy on the inside, so she took a moment and then, she nodded her head. "You know, I'd actually really like that," she admitted with a nervous laugh. "Do you think I could put my address in the GPS on your phone really quickly, though? I don't wanna have to do it in the car because I'll probably fall sleep," she told him.

For some reason, the thought of handing a pretty girl his phone made his stomach twist, but he pulled it out of his back pocket anyways. "Oh, uh— okay, so you don't have to," he paused, tapping in the code to unlock his phone, "but if you wanted to put your number in, too, I'd kinda like that," he confessed.

Her eyes widened slightly at his request, mostly because she hadn't really expected him to like her that much, but she nodded her head. "Of course." She bit her bottom lip gently to fight back a huge smile as she tapped away on his phone.

Isaac pressed his lips together to keep from grinning and he pretended to clear his throat so that he could seem less giddy. "Cool," he told her, a little more awkwardly than he'd meant to, but she didn't seem to mind as she handed him back his phone. She put the phone in his palm and the screen was still set on her contact page, which contained her phone number and the words "fight club :)" written in bold above it. When he read over the nickname that he'd given her earlier that night, he couldn't fight his smile any longer. "I'll call you sometime," he promised.

A grin spread across Y/N's face like soft butter and she gently knocked her elbow against his. "You better, Isaac," she hummed, before hopping off of the countertop and looking over at him. "Now, if you could bring me home," she paused for dramatic effect, "that would be superb," she finished. It'd sounded a lot better in her head, but now that she had said the word 'superb' out loud, she wanted bang her head against a wall.

Lucky for her, Isaac thought it was cute.

He laughed and nodded his head in response. "Of course. Just don't give me a goodbye punch when we get there," he teased and, as they made their way to the door, something gave her the feeling that he'd never let her live that down.

↴ author's note / okay so, not what i had in mind when i first came up with title for this imagine because it was gonna be something totally different. i'm really proud of what i did here with the plot and their interactions, even if my writing isn't at its top, but we all have our days. i still think it's really cute. leave me some feedback! thanks for reading x

[astronomicalegotism]

Level Two: MadPat

Revenge Is Best Served Together (Book One)

Part 16

It was instantaneous, One second he was staring wide eyed at broken animatronic in front of him holding the baseball bat that had caused it (And after all the shit Scott had put him through being able to do that was the most therapeutic and yet mentally scarring thing Matt had ever done) and the next he was blinking rapidly from a harsh white light, a stark contrast from the dark and dusty place he'd been before. It was a simplistic room, there was nothing in it which was both reassuring and a cause for panic because, yes there wasn't any noticeable threats but Oh god where was the door-

He instantly realised that A: He wasn't holding that baseball bat anymore and B: He wasn't alone. He instantly tensed up at the sight of the other three in the room before relaxing as he recognised them. Where the hell was Nate though, Nate should be here too right?! Why wasn't he here?!

Matt swallowed harshly but made no move to alert the others to his presence. He'd already known that Mark and Jack where here thanks to Nate, but when Nate had said maybe others, there been a part of him that had been hoping that that had meant more than one person, if simply just because maybe their chances of getting out of here would be higher with more people.

"Ethan!!" Matt awkwardly stood by the side lines in shock as he watched Mark basically throw himself at the poor guy, engulfing him in a tight hug. This was definitely one of those times when the ability to just fade into the wall would be just wonderful. He took note of what they all looked like, after he got over the shock of seeing them that is.

Jack was trying to subtly hug himself, nails digging into his arms. He was looking at Mark with a strange expression on his face, like he wanted to run over and join in the hug but something was stopping him. But what?

Ethan was trembling, a fresh set of tears tracking down his face from red eyes that made it clear that this wasn't the first time he'd broken down. Matt knew the least about Ethan out of all of them in the room, he knew that he used to be Mark's editor and had his own channel, but that was probably about it. That was also semi the case with Jack as well, while they weren't acquaintances and got along fine, they weren't exactly close. The one he was the closest too was Mark and even then...

Mark was staring at Matt, his head facing was from Jack and over Ethan's shoulder. His eyes were narrowed, giving away nothing about what he was feeling. He'd made no effort other than that to acknowledge Matt's existence which was...strangely out of character for someone like Markiplier.

Wait

A sinking realisation struck Matt.

Oh god he was completely alone in this.

He didn't have the same close bond like the three gamers did. He was just Matpat, the theory guy to them. They-

"Mathew!" Matt let out a squawk as Jack suddenly spotted him and ran over, giving him a brief hug. Matt could tell just by those few seconds that Jack's heart was just about ready to burst out of his chest. "Oh thank god I'm so glad someone smart is here." Matt blinked repeatedly as Jack smirked teasingly at him, letting out a small nervous chuckle. Okay, Jack was obviously trying to joke around with him and forge a connection with him, so who was Matt to get in the way of that.

"Well you know me, I'm known for my unbelievable talent of escaping unexplainable night dimensions." Out of the corner of his vision he could still see Mark and Ethan, the older man not having taken his arm off Ethan despite them having stopped hugging a while ago. They were such close friends...

Jack coughed obnoxiously and brought Matt's attention back onto him. Matt's face flushed as he realised that he totally just zoned out on him.

"Sorry I Uh-" I What?! What Mathew, what are you going to say that's not going to make you look like a lunatic?! "I have no idea what's happening." Matt finished lamely, making Jack snort a little. Jack had opened his mouth, probably to say something in response but he was cut off by the sound of a slow clap. Everyone instantly drawing their attention to the new comer in shock.

Especially Matt.

His hair was a mess, Brown tufts of hair sticking up all over and mattered.  A old and rusted looking flamethrower rested causally over his shoulder, strikingly calm and yet dangerous eyes lazily scanning over all of them before finally resting on Matt himself.  A dark smirk made its one onto the previously bored burnt face. Horrified scars caused from flames scattered his entire body, grotesque and obviously not having been treated properly. There was an unspoken agreement between all four of them as they all promptly backed the fuck up, leaving a wide distance between them and-whatever that thing was.

"Ego," His mind supplied, "He's an ego...My ego. Just like how Nate had-has Natemare."

"Well well well Mathew Patrick, we finally meet." Matt could only stare in horror at what might as well be his own reflection. Matt had never been more simultaneously terrified and yet curious in his life. His overwhelming desire to find out as much as he possible could about all of this was almost enough to make him not be on the verge of a panic attack.

...

Almost.

"What the fuck Matpat you have a psycho twin?! Also wait holy shit Matpat's here!!" Ethan's eyes darted between the two, mouth hanging open. Matt registered Mark face palming distantly, his full attention on the person in front of him.

"Who are you?" Matt asked, wincing as his voice broke a little. Brilliant, absolutely amazing. Love my life.

"I go by many names,"

“Oh my god." Matt took a small step back as it finally clicked. The Musical. God he never regretted featuring in a fanmade fictional production based on an indie horror game more in his life,

"Mainly because I was never really deemed important enough to get an offical one that is." Almost red brown eyes drifted over to Mark for a few seconds before snapping back to Matt. "Antimatter, Madpat-

"Evil dirtbag with a chainsaw."

"Suck a dick Markiplier. I suppose Mad would be the most appropriate currently." Madpat, Madpat...Yeah he's definitely read that name before somewhere.

"What the point of all this, what's going on?" Wait, when had Mark put himself in front of all of them?

Madpat tilted his head in consideration, clicking his tongue repeatedly. Matt took that opportunity to glance back over at Jack and Ethan. Jack had clenched his fists, but what Matt found strange was how the Irish man had positioned himself to still be closer to Matt, away from Mark. Something had definitely happened between those two. Ethan, the poor thing, looked beyond confused. Clearly they were both in the same boat.

“Eh, technically not supposed to tell you but where's the fun in that? Nothing wrong with a good old healthy rebellion every once in a while." Mad shrugged carelessly, the flamethrower only back clanging a little. "Basically," Mad clicked his fingers and the room around them shifted to that of a throne room, Mad sitting where the king would with his feet slung over the side and a tacky crown now resting on his head. "You're now in my own little a hell, a dimension that I can control with ease and!" Mad clicked his finger once again and Matt found himself once again in the old pizzeria, although this time it was horribly distorted and glitching. There were tiny versions of all the animatronics dancing jerkily at Mad's feet, a horrible screeching and crackling noise coming from all of them. Ethan screamed while Jack let out a disturbed "Jesus Fucking Christ!!!" next to Matt.

"Unless your good old pal Natemare," Mad spit the name with disgust, "I actually have a plan here instead of just screwing around like a toddler in a sandbox." Mad rolled his eyes.

"Why are you doing all this?!" Ethan yelled, only to stumble back as Mad's piercing glare locked onto him for the first time. Mad clicked again and they were back in the white room.

"Oh well, that's simple." Mark growled lowly and stood in front of Ethan protectively as Mad strolled over to them, leaning right into his personal space. "It's because I hate you." A shiver ran down Matt's spine as Mad hissed, his voice filled with boiling hot emotion that Matt found a bit uncomfortable hearing being said with his voice. He didn't even know he was capable of that tone...

Mad laughed and booped Mark on the nose, laughter as the man swung out to punch him, on,y to come into contact with thin air as Mad clicked his fingers again and appeared at the back of the room. Mad looked at his hands for a few seconds before cackling.

"God I love you Warfstache, this is amazing." Matt's eyes widened, as did Mark's. Warfstache?! Wilford Warfstache?! Matt resisted the urge to groan.

He was in over his head.

"So what are you going to do with us?" Jack asked, voicing what they had all been thinking. Matt tensed up, holding his breath as he waited for the response. Please don't be that bad...

“Oh, just a series of tests." Tests? Matt perked up a little. Mad waved his hand dismissively. "I'm going to put you through a mixture of testing your knowledge and fears." Okay could be worse? "And by you of course I mean Matpat, And Matpat alone. The rest of you will simply be test subjects that he has to save." Spoke too soon, shit-

"WHAT?!!" Jack and Ethan screamed, drowning out Mark's mumbled of, "We're screwed." Matt felt like his legs were about to give way. He hid his head in shaky hands, muffling a quiet groan. This was too much, he couldn't do this. He just wanted to go home and snuggle with Stephanie and never leave the house ever again.

Mad clapped his hands together. "Whelp, enough wasting time let's-"

"Wait." Matt lifted up his head slightly and Mad paused. The Ego made a go on gesture and Matt gulped before continuing. "Nate. What...what happened to Nate?" Mad inhaled sharply, a reaction Matt had definitely not expected. There was a suffocating silence for a few seconds before,

"He's in a better place now. Level Two begin, good luck or whatever." And just as Mad clicked his finger to start the game, Matt's legs gave way underneath him and he lets out a pained sob.

I can't do this.

The library is silent aside from the mutterings of The Host and the tapping of Dr Ipliers feet as he looks through one of the Hosts old medical books. The Host himself has finally removed his hand from Nate's head and is now waiting with fingers crossed in the hopes that he has been successful. Nate's eyelids flutter against the warm blanket underneath him, strong sent of coffee gracing his senses as he is brought back to consciousness.

"The Host smiles in relief and asks if Dr Iplier could come over before then looking back at Nathan. Nathan Nfeels drained and weak and The Host reassures Him that it is only normal to experience such things after what he went through. Nathan's eyes fly open and he attempts to bolt upright only to collapse almost instantly back down on the couch. The Host realises his previous error and makes an effort to mend it, telling Nathan that he means them no harm."

Nate scrunched up his face as his sharp pounding headache slowly recedes, his vision focusing uneasily on the bloodied bandage wearing Markiplier clone in front of him that's narrating everything that's happening. What- what the fuck? What's-where is he what happened?! Nate tries once again to sit up, only to pathetically fall back down harshly. Nate grits his teeth in frustration before suddenly jolting back, eyes wide in fear as a hand reached out to him. The creepy bandage guy frown deeper and moves his hand back inside of his weird trench coat, narrating a quiet apology. Nate frowned a little himself, since when was he so jumpy?

"The Host suggests quietly that it most likely has to do with whatever is left of Natemare's fear magic, The Host is regretful when he says that he didn't manage to remove his affects completely. The Host Would also Like to suggest that maybe Nathan should stop attempting to move, on the off chance that he hurts himself." Nate reluctantly forced himself to relax. It's not like he had a choice. He bite his lip, trying to remember what had happened in the room with Natemare but it was all fogging and blurred, like someone was preventing him from seeing it.

"What-" Nate instantly started coughing harshly, to the point where it physically hurt him. Bandage guy furrowed his brows.

"The Host hesitates before informing Nate that he would be better off not trying to speak for a while. The...incident that happened with Natemare badly injured his vocal cords-" Nate's heart genuinely skipped a beat, "And The Host Thinks That Maybe Nathan shouldn't test it, lest he raises the likelyhood his voice being permanently damaged." Oh god.

"Oh, I see he's awake." Nate startled, letting out an involuntary yelp as another identical man walked over to them wearing a doctors outfit, his hands stained with almost black blood that made Nate squirm a little. But there was one main thing on his mind.

"Holy Fuck how many of there are you?" Nate croaked out hoarsely, his eyebrows raised despite the new onslaught of pain that sentence brought him. Fighting back the urge to start coughing again, Nate silently remarked just how The Host (?) managed to stare at him in disappointment without having visible eyes. The doctor frowns at him and tuts a little before,

"I'm sorry. You're dying." Nate doesn't even get time to panic about that before the Host groans.

"The Hosts asks Nathan to please ignore that, Dr Iplier says that to everyone, You're fine." The Host stands up, moving over to one of the many piles of books surrounding them and picks up a cup. "Here." Nate flinches a bit before accepting what was handed to him. The Host does something that's almost close enough to be a smile before turning to Dr Iplier.

Also by the way Dr Iplier? Like Markiplier? At least Natemare sounds kind of cool.

"The Host Would Like to impress his disbelief to that," Nate's eyes widen. Did he just- "Yes. The Host leaves Nathan to freak out a little as he turns to Dr Iplier, asking for update on Natemare's condition?" Well that caught Nate's attention. Dr Iplier shifted uncomfortably at the two people's attentions on him.

"Well, I've detected no changes but..." Dr Iplier sighs. "He's stable at least, affectingly dead though. He's minutes from fading, there's not much left of him for me to try revive Host, I'm sorry." The Host just shakes his head.

"No I-The Host will not let Darkiplier win. We will need all the help we can get and Natemare is a very powerful ally." Damn It why can't I remember barely anything that happened that would really make understanding this whole thing a lot easier!

"Well... I mean, We could always use Nate." Nate's eyes snapped over to Dr Iplier. He would of moved his head too but he didn't want to risk it. The Host was already shaking his head because Dr Iplier even started speaking.

"The Host refuses, Nathan just woke up and can barely sit up he-"

“Host we don't have much time here! From what I heard, Mad has already started his level and then after that it'll be Anti's turn, we can't afford to hesitate, Darkiplier is this close to taking away everything! Nate will be fine, I'm not suggesting draining Nate's energy, god knows if he even has any left." Nate wonders absentmindedly Dr Iplier remembers that he's still in the room or not.

"The Host understand what Dr Iplier is suggesting, but he worries about the possibility of being unable to separate them-"

“Host you know it's all we've got here-" Alright that's it.

“Uh hello? This ob-Obviously involves me so..."Nate grits his teeth and forces out the rest, tears threatening to form in his eyes and his throat basically screams at him to stop. "Why didn't you assholes tell me what's-" Nope shit, that's all I'm getting out. Nate starts coughing violently and Dr Iplier is at his side in an instant, grabbing his hand and stilling it. Nate didn't even realise he was shaking life a leaf until now.

"No talking." Nate nodded weakly, tears streaming down his face without his consent. "You want to know what we're talking about right?" Nate nods again, and he can't help but feel a little humiliated for no reason. He decides to take back whatever pride he has left and snatches his hand out of Dr Iplier's grip, although his instant regrets it as his hand starts shaking again. The doctor takes a deep breath before he starts to explain.

"Basically, Natemare is dying. By all rights he should be dead, in fact he was for a short amount of time before I anything to do with it." Nate raised his eyebrows. Well Shit. "But obviously, healing needs active participation on both parts and while I may have brought him back for now, I'm afraid that won't be enough for long. And Natemare is too drained to be able to bring himself back. He's essentially a lost cause and we might as well give up-" The Host kicks him, "Ow!! Let me finish!" Dr Iplier glares at him before continuing.

"These two are definitely close then, what with acting like an old married couple..." Nate thought, before his face turns bright red when he remembered the Host could hear him. Oops. The Host coughs awkwardly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

"But, as I was saying, it is possible for Natemare to be able to heal and come back if he gains energy from his host or Uh, Creator I guess to ease confusion. But, Natemare is too far gone that simply coming into contact with you or being around you will have no affect."

"Which means?" Nate lets out a muffled protest as the Doctor covered his mouth.

"Nate." He warned, "I do have means to ensure that you stop further damaging your vocal cords, don't make me use them." Nate gulped and gave him a thumbs up, his heart racing. It takes everything in him to not lick the Doctors hand.

“The Host hates to interrupt but he would like to politely ask the Doctor to get the hell on with it." Dr Iplier scowls as Nate wheezes, only to cough again. Come on even laughing hurts?! Oh fuck me.

“To put it short, the only way for Natemare to gain enough energy is for him to...fuse with you. Possess you or however you want to put it, basically you two would have to become one, in fact doing that would actually help you be able to heal quicker as well." What like Steven Universe?

"Kind of like Steven Universe." The Host says, a ghost of a smile on his face that is quickly widened away by his normal frown. "The Host knows that it will work, it's happened before but..."

Nate makes a motion for him to go on, although he's a bit worried to hear what comes next.

"There is no way of knowing that once the two of you fuse, you'll be able to separate again afterwards."

"...Well Shit."

"NATE!"

[sassysweetstories]

Shared

Request: “soul-mate au where you feel the other’s emotions. Lydia rejected Stiles and he thought for the longest time that they were soul-mates only to find Lydia with someone else. AND HE’S SUPER SAD AND THE READER CAN FEEL IT!!” 

Ship: mentions of previous Lydia x Stiles, Stiles x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, flashbacks, fluff, description of panic attack, minor kissing, emotion sharing, blood, fighting, etc. 

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to owners. 

Tagged for all and AU’s:  @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw@anamcg317 @bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist@beingmadinwonderland @princessisabelle19 @violence-and-velvet @ordinarygirlmeetsfantasticworld @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone 

Stiles P.O.V

[5 months ago] 

When I looked into her beautiful hazel eyes, everything just made sense. Or, at least I thought it did. Her gorgeous strawberry blonde hair fell perfectly onto her shoulders as her hips moved from side to side. How was she always so elegant and regal? Nearly seven years, I’ve known that I loved Lydia Martin. I would do anything for her, give up everything just to see her smile. And we were happy, laughing and joking and bickering like friends, hopefully couples do. The government said soul-mates have something to do with our genetic coding while others said it was because of the gods and goddess who wield it. For a little while I thought it was rubbish. That was until Lydia Martin waltzed into my life. 

For a long time I had wanted to confess to her that she was my soul-mate. There was no doubt in my mind that she was the one person who brought me joy in times of stress. However as time went on, I was starting to lose hope. Lydia’s smile was less when she was with me, not as warm and open as usual. The more cold she became made me frightened and nervous. But I had spent nearly seven years wondering if she felt the same. But if everyone says soul-mates feel and know when they look at one another, why wasn’t she more excited? And then I wish I hadn’t wondered. 

“Stiles, I don’t love you. I don’t even really like you. I only talked to you because Jackson left me and I needed attention.” She snapped at me one day in the middle of the hallway. But it didn’t make sense. “Lydia, I thought- I thought we-” I ask, voice hoarse but hopeful as I feel my heart slowly crumbling. I can’t breath. I feel like I’m suffocating as she mercilessly says, “Stiles, get over yourself. There was nothing between us to begin with. You were just infatuation with me. I’ve found my soul-mate. And he isn’t you.” She turned over her shoulder, her strawberry blonde hair whipping around in the process. A thing in which I once adored but now makes me sick to my stomach. Turning away from the crowded hallway, I push and nudge everyone out of the way to get some place safe. A bathroom, somewhere out of the public eye. 

My breathing is choppy and rigid as I nearly fall into the family bathroom, somehow managing to lock it in the process of my sudden panic attack. My vision is disoriented and blurry as I attempt to reach the sink in hopes that some water could suppress this hellish nightmare that starts to form and fester around me. Everything’s turning black, dark spots plague my vision and my heart feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest, hoping to escape the inevitable. It’s all too much. The sudden odd mixture of cold and hotness, the straight up rejection from the girl whom I thought to have loved. From what little I can make out, a set of hands shakily reach for the handles. It takes me a second to realize that they’re in fact mine. Before I know it, my face is immersed within the water, patting the back of my sweaty neck. 

Your P.O.V

One minute I’m fine and the next I’m heaving for air, like it’ll never come back and it’s my last chance to grab as much of it as I can before it’s too late. I know exactly what this is. A panic attack. I’ve been on the wrong side of it before but this time there wasn’t a reason for it to have triggered, or for me to feel the way that I do. I’m at a small gathering when suddenly the room becomes too packed, like it has shrunk down to the size of a teacup. Usually I’m fine at parties, hell, I’m the party at parties. But right now it feels like someone’s taken a barrel of water and shoved it down my throat. And yet my lungs feel dry and small, almost too tiny for my normal size. Quickly I slip from the bodies and thumping speakers that suddenly have no sound whatsoever, leaning against into the walls as I search in hopes of a secluded area in the house to let this pass. 

Dark spots bounce around my blurry vision as I somehow sneak into the nearest empty bathroom, fiddling with the lock until I hear a successful click. I fall to the ground, flicking the lights in the process to a dim setting. For some weird reason, I’m an odd mixture of sadness and heartbreak. Like I lost a love or a family member of some sort. But I hadn’t to my recollection. It was as if someone was ripping out my insides, putting them back together, only to do it all over again. I can’t stop the tears from escaping as my choppy breathing makes mist form across the white marble floor. Propping my body up on my elbow, I can barely hold up my weight. For the first time in a long time, I feel as though a massive anvil crushes my chest and lungs, tearing me apart, limb by limb. It’s all too much. 

[Now]

It’s been a few months since my panic attack and those months following, I was unbelievably sad. My drastic mood change concerned my friends and family greatly. That was until they came up with a solution that everyone wouldn’t stop talking about, especially my friends. “It’s your soul-mate!” Exclaimed my friend, Dakota, in the middle of our favorite coffee shop. She was hell-bent on said theory, believed it wholeheartedly, too. But it didn’t make sense. People get waves of sadness all the time? Besides, if that were true, how the hell would I even find my soul-mate if we’re feeling the others emotions? How can I locate him? I had hundreds of questions about the theory, all of which weren’t being answered, nor did I expect them to be. Dakota kept on with her sch-peel that I gotta have faith in the universe or whatever. 

But honestly, I wasn’t feeling up to it. This sadness was really getting me down and I hadn’t a clue as to why. Later that day, I went home to find a series of envelopes resting on the kitchen table. Mom must’ve brought the mail in before going out. Rummaging through to see if any belonged to me, I pause on one envelope and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach, face going pale. University College of Admissions. Oh god, this was it. My acceptance letter or my decline.. There’s a fifty fifty chance for either and I can’t breath. I’m tearing apart the package with shaky needy fingers. I toss the outer layer in the trash, holding my breath in anticipation. I open the paper all the way and read. 

Dear (Y/N) (Y/L/N), 

Welcome to the family! We are happy to congratulate you on your acceptance to...

I let the breath out and jaw go slack, gasping in shock. I-I was accepted.. I read it aloud this time and for some reason it feels more real when I hear myself say the words I’ve worked so hard to achieve. I was accepted into the school of my dreams. For the first time in months, my sadness has completely washed away. Overcome by joy. I worked my ass off, fighting through hours of tears, school, a job, bullies, and everything in between to get to this one significant moment. For the first time in a long time, I felt whole and enough, that my time and effort and energy was not overlooked. In fact, it felt like someone had put me on a pedestal for everyone to see the greatness and success I’ve achieved all on my own. 

Stiles P.O.V

When I wake up this morning, I expect to feel as I have felt for the past few months, cold and heartbroken. But for some odd reason, I’m overcome by a sense of joy that I’m brought to automatic tears, happy tears. After everything that’s happened, I have no reason to be or feel happy, and yet, I can’t stop myself from grinning from ear to ear, almost like a kid on Christmas. I cry and laugh, holding my pillow close to my chest before turning on some upbeat music which only make my happiness grow. Why I was feeling this way made little to no sense and made me confused but I was too busy floating on cloud nine to actually care. For some reason, I felt more proud of myself than ever. Like I had put enough time into things such as school, and work, and saving people that I felt warm, almost fuzzy with joy. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not thinking about Lydia, I’m thinking about me. I’m thinking about my accomplishments and hard work as a member of the pack. I’m going over the moments in my head in which I was independent and confident in my abilities despite my overall clumsiness. The moments where I saved lives, including my own whilst fighting against a threat that was seemingly impossible to defeat. It was like all my reason to wallow had vanished. Lydia was seriously missing out on being with me. But for once, I’m happy that she’s not my soul-mate. If she was, I would have been straight up miserable, following her around like a lost puppy would. I would have succumbed to her manipulative ways and done anything for her. I giggle at the idea of freedom, that I’m my own person. It’s like a blanket of warmth that washes over me. 

But I had to ask the one question that boggled my mind. Why the sudden change in mood? It was not something small, in fact, it was beyond drastic. It was the biggest mood jump I’ve ever had. The next few days, my attitude change shocks not only me, but everyone, as-well. Scott pulls me aside, eyeing my odd, overly happy behavior. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” Even though it’s nice not wallowing in my self pity anymore, the question does scare me because I don’t know the answer to it. I shake my head, still smiling, unable to suppress the joy. “I have no clue but I can’t stop smiling. I don’t know, I just feel- I feel like I’ve accomplished so much. That I’m stronger than I think, that I worked hard to get where I am right now, ya know? I just kinda realized, I don’t need Lydia. That I got where I am because of you and my dad.” 

He nodded and hypothesized the most ridiculous thing in the world. “OH MY GOD! IT HAS TO BE YOUR SOUL-MATE?!” I may be sporting a smile but I can’t help but roll my eyes in detest. But the more I think about it, the less wild it sounds. Lydia had a soul-mate? Maybe that’s why she was shifting moods so often when we were around one another? I take to the internet to search for more answers. When my eyes fall onto the most recent news article, I find myself scanning every words at hyper-speed, eating up as much information on the topic that I can. If soul-mates are real, could this possible have something to do with my drastic emotional fluctuation? I have ten websites open before a new body enters my room. “Son, what are you doing?” Dad asks, leaning against the door wall. “I’m researching soul-mates.” I reply shortly, too immersed in my work to focus on any else. 

All of a sudden, my chair is being pulled back and away from the computer. “Dad- wait- no- what are you-” When he turns the chair to face him, he sits on my bed with a faint smile. “Why don’t you ask your old man instead of some stupid website?” I can’t help but look at him in shock, jaw to the floor as I gape at him. “Wait, you mean they’re real? Soul-mates are real?” He shook his head, laughing before picking up the picture of my mom and him that sat atop my nighttime dresser. “How do you think I met your mother?” Dad looks down at the photo with such light and love in his eyes, I’m taken back by the simple yet delicate moment. I shut up fast, wanting for him to continue. “How did you know she was your soul-mate?” He glanced up at me with a small blush before looking back at the photo, confessing. 

“It all started when I was around your age. I had gotten out of a really rough relationship with this girl who I was certain to be my soul-mate, only to find out that she had been seeing hers behind my back. In all honesty, I couldn’t really be mad. The cheating was bad but they were soul-mates, didn’t make up for the pain though. But I was so heartbroken, I didn’t leave my house for nearly two weeks. And then at the two week mark, my mood completely changed. I was overjoyed and happier than I’d ever been. Except, I had no reason be. My heart had been completely broken but for some reason, I felt fine, more than fine. It was as if everything around me changed, and all I could see were the positives. It was the most angelic feeling in the whole world, nearly indescribable. Not long after, a few days I think, I met her, your mother. And from that day forth, they were the best moments of my life.”

When he’s done talking, my heart hurts with happy thoughts of my father and my mother, hoping, praying, that someday I will have what they had. It surely explained the feelings I’d been getting but I’ve spent too much of my life getting my hopes up, only to be let down, so I don’t. “How did you know it was her for sure?” I can’t help but ask. He looks from me and then down to the picture again before replying. “Soul-mates share emotions. Once I laid eyes on her, for a split second, everything around me went silent. It was as if my heart was finally whole, and I could breath once more. It’s hard to describe but, you just know.” 

Your P.O.V

I have to take a knee to withhold this brand new feeling. My heart is filled up to the brim with love and hope, so much of it I could barely breathe. It wasn’t a bad feeling, actually it was far from it. I can’t stop smiling and I know it’s not because of the acceptance letter. That flame has died and I’ve made peace with it. This, this is something entirely new. Maybe Dakota was right? This could actually be some weird soul-mate thing? I cave in and go to the internet for some answers, scanning and searching through every article that I could possibly get my hands on. Soul-mates Share Emotions: The Literal Bond of Love. One article reads. I can’t help but click on it, fascinated by the title alone. 

“Studies have shown that soul-mates are becoming prominent now, more than ever before! Participants within the study have described their experience as sharing emotions, some of those people changing so drastically that the other’s mood adjusts in the same fashion until the day the two meet. On average, soul-mates will meet within the year their emotions start to inter-mix. If you are looking to find how or when you know whom your soul-mate is, participants have described the feeling as being noiseless and ethereal. That when their eyes meet, time almost freezes and they just knew in their hearts that that person was their soul-mate. Wanna learn more? Click for more!” 

I get out of the tab and lock down the computer. That night I can’t sleep, still bubbly from- well, I don’t really know why I’m so giddy. I’m not saying this is the case, but it very well could be my soul-mate. I hope he’s okay and in a good mood. Lord knows I wouldn’t have wanted to feel what he felt, but evidently I did. But right now, I’m happy to be sharing emotions with him. It’s almost calming and warm to sense what he’s feeling right now. Whatever happened or whomever he spoke to, definitely changed something within him, and maybe within me, too. That soul-mate thing didn’t sound as crazy as I’ve made it out to be. Whether that is my own thought or not, I found myself growing giddy at the thought of finally meeting him, or whomever he was. 

Stiles P.O.V

Caffeine wasn’t exactly what I needed right now, especially considering the fact that I’m wide awake. Something about today just felt right, and it wasn’t because of what my dad and I talked about last night. Glancing around the small, dimly lit cafe, I can’t help but smile at the warm scent that’s greeted my nostrils. It’s too early for a lot of people to be here and I like it that way. I don’t come in here often to notice its beauty and simplicity but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. I’m not even fully inside before a new feeling washes over me, except, it’s not much of a feeling. It’s nearly impossible to decipher, I don’t even think it’s an emotion at all. I can’t quite put my finger on it until the room grows suspiciously quiet. I can’t hear the obnoxiously loud late machines churning or gurgling to life. 

Nor can I hear the shuffling of boots or orders, names being thrown left and right despite the time of day. It’s completely still, no birds, no noise. It’s so serene. I’m meeting her. This is it. And just like my dad said, I look around the almost barren cafe until I meet her gaze. She’s already looking at me and I feel like my heart’s going to explode out of my chest. My pops was right. She looks absolutely breathing, straight up ethereal, like an angel fallen from heaven. When I look into her deep (y/e/c)’s, they’re the only thing I see. My heart feels warm and whole and beating a thousand miles a minute. “Hi..” I manage to say despite my obvious shock. She smiles, a single tear escaping from her right eye. Instinctively, I wipe the tear away, resting my hand comfortably on her cheek. 

“Hi.. I’m (Y/n).. Your soul-mate..” She says softly. I’m so overwhelmed by emotion that tears escape from my eyes, wrapping my hands in her face, I can’t help but say sweetly. “You’re my soul-mate.. I have a soul-mate.. Oh my god.. I’m the luckiest man alive..” (Y/n) giggles again and I swear she sounds like an angel sent from heaven above. “And I’m Stiles.. Your soul-mate..” When she looks at me, her eyes gleam under the sun that peaked through the cafe windows. “Well Stiles,-” (Y/n) says smoothly. “How ‘bout you and I get to know one another over some coffee and the newest Star Wars movie. But I’m not gonna lie, I’ve already seen two times.” I can’t help but giggle. God, this woman’s going to be the death of me. “Same. And I would be honored.” Looking back at her, my dad was right. Linked emotion gone but love filled my soul. 

(I hope you guys liked it!! I really appreciate the feedback! Please comment below!!) 

[oldschool-aye]

I bet you don’t curse God

Chapter 6

“Woah What in the actual fuck is he doing here?” Stiles shouted in his usual sarcastic voice while jumping back a little from the bleacher he was sitting.

Theo at my side we walked out from behind the bleachers and at Stil’es’ outburst the others turned their heads and stared with wide eyes along with Scott and Kira instantly getting in defensive positions. 

“Wow, I knew you said they wouldn’t consider you a friend, but what did you do for them to be like, this?” I asked Theo as I casually gestured to the others.

“Reign, what is this? Do you even know what exactly you brought back? Emphasis on the what.” Stiles’ kept asking while sort of standing behind Kira, of course he’d deny that later if I teased him about it.

“Seriously man, what’d you do?” I also kept asking Theo.

Theo just looked down at his feet, and as Liam approached baring his teeth, that was when Theo finally looked up along with his hands and exclaimed for them to let him explain. 

“You’ve got 30 seconds to explain what the hell is going on.” Scott finally stepping in. 

Theo explained how when he first was taken down to he landed in some red land forest and he just wandered and ran for what felt like days trying to find some escape. And as he wandered he found a cave system, while going through the caves he saw a woman furiously talking with a girl that looked our age. 

“The woman had long black hair like her and was asking questions, sounded angry. The girl would reply stuttering sure sounded like she was scared out of wits. I think the woman called her Maura, or Mira something like that.”

“It was Miranda Toll.” I said.

“Maybe he is onto to something.” Brett added and then looked at me and I gave him a small flirty smile, one of which he returned.

“Yeah, I think that’s her name. And Miranda just kept saying the ‘Aiko is secure and that the situation was under control’ and then I was going to leave but then that Miranda girl mentioned werewolves and talked about a true alpha with strong pack. That made me believe she was talking about you, Scott.”

Theo continued with how he then left the way he came decided he had to get back up top to warn us, so he again wandered and ran around the forest looking for a way out or someone that could and would help him in any way. And thats when he found the huge castle looking house in the middle of a canyon with blue and white fire around it.

“That’s my house. You found my house.”

“You live there?!”

“Well, I was in it wasn’t I? And I only stay there when I need to be at ‘home’”

Theo was about to ask me something, most likely what I was and how I could just so easily go back and forth between the two realms. But h was interrupted as Stiles urged him to continue. 

“Well, I got in which easier than thought, not without some major struggle though and the place was huge so I wandered the halls until...”

And Theo looked over at me with eyes asking whether he should be telling them he found me absolutely balling my eyes out, which I quickly gave small shake of my head to.

‘Until what?” Scott questioned.

“Until I walked into a room and I found her changing and I asked her to help that I needed to warn some friends-”

“We are not friends.” Kira said firmly, while Brett’s eyes ignited with a little bit of anger at the mention of Theo possibly of seen me naked to a certain degree, not enough for the other to smell but enough for me to see with my sight.

With a clear of his throat Theo then explained how after hearing Scott’s name, I had decided to help him came back with me. 

“The woman you saw, you said she had long black hair like me?” I questioned Theo about his experience in the cave.

“Yeah, her eyes were like a snakes yellow with the long pupils, but the thing that put me off most was the scar on her face. It looked as if she’d been scratched down her right eyebrow.”

“I know who she is-”

“What how?”

“Because I’m the one who gave her that scar. And the ‘Aiko’ her and Miranda were talking about, is me.”

After all the bickering between the pack and Theo, we all met back in Lydia’s lakehouse and Scott filled in the other of what happened so they wouldn’t be as aggressive when they saw Theo, but that didn’t stop them from being absolutely shocked and a bit of growling and baring teeth at him.

“So what exactly is an Aiko?” Liam asked with confusion, a look a lot of the others had too.

“An Aiko is a child of ‘love’ major quotation marks with love. A ‘love child’ a forbidden child. Me.”

“Why you?” Isaac asked.

“She’s the blood mix of an angel and demon bro. Biggest abomination, remember?” Stiles said with a ‘duh’ face. 

“Thanks Stiles, really appreciate the support.”

“No worries, oh no. I mean sorry you’re not the biggest abomination, at least not to me.”

“Nice save Stilinski.” Brett perked with an un-impressed look, only to turn and give me a small smile. Again with the small, might I say flirtatious smiles. I couldn’t help but blush a little.

“So then whats happening?” Lydia asked with a look of worry.

“Well-” I started until all we heard a loud thud along with a cracking of glass from downstairs. We all immediately ran downstairs, and we all came to a halt on the stairs as we stared at the chimera body that had just breached the window. 

“Shit.” Was all I said, and was the only one to speak. 

“What the hell is going on?” Sheriff Stilinski semi-shouted with Deputy Parrish right behind him as they shone they’re flashlights at the mangled body of the chimera. 

“Uhm, Hi dad.” Stiles said  while rubbing the back of his neck giving an awkward half-smile. Which his dad returned with a purse of his lips.

“The body was thrown by someone outside, we were all upstairs, Sheriff.” I said calmly, and I noticed the Deputy standing behind the Sheriff was a hellhound, something I was much too familiar with. The deputy obviously noticed my staring.

“Why do I feel like I know you?” He asked me, confusion written all over his face and aura. 

Thats when I felt annoyance radiate off the body behind me. Which I instantly knew was tall, blondie Brett. He’s already getting protective, something that made me slightly heat up and not just my face. 

“You’re a hellhound, deputy. Of course you’ll recognise me. I’m the Aiko. That ring any bells?”

And his eyes turned bright orange as flames engulfed him, and his clothes burnt away, leaving him stark naked. 

“Oh my god, I did not mean for that to happen.” I exclaimed as I ran to cover him from the rest of the pack. I looked up at him, as he was a good head taller than me and mouthed a sorry. He just looked back at me with wide eyes, and grabbed my hips in order for me to not move from covering his important bits. As surprised as the others were about Deputy Parrish being naked they were in awe that his flames weren’t burning me but engulfing me too, turning a mixture of blue and white flames. We awkwardly walked around the group, me in front at all times as Lydia told us there was a spare room with spare clothes down the hall. While this was all happening I felt the radiating annoyance turn to mild anger as me and the deputy continued to walk down the hall and disappear into the spare room. The whole way I didn’t take my eyes off of the deputy’s as I thought it’d be rude and made the situation even more awkward if I ever looked down. 

“I really am sorry, didn’t know you’d react like that deputy...” I finally said as he had finally put pants on.

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean for it to happen.” At that response I furrowed my brows.

“You are overly understanding about this situation I literally made you burn all you clothes off in front of the whole pack and you’re boss. How are you not mad at me?”

“I don’t know, I just feel like I already know you plus I didn’t actually know what I was until you just told me. I knew I was something supernatural just not what exactly. So I’m actually kind of thankful.” He replied as he finished putting the rest of the spare clothes on.

“Oh. I’m still sorry though.”

At that he lightly laughed as his face was still a little red from the previous embarrassment. We walked out and Brett stared at us with suspicious eyes. 

Finally the body was taken to the animal clinic, where Deaton had handled the claws and tail. And as everyone left the lake house I had no ride and as Deputy Parrish offered to take me in his patrol car, Brett interrupted and said I was going with him. To which Deputy Parrish slightly looked unapproving of but let it go and wished us a safe trip home. 

“So, why is ken doll all worked up, hmm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He claimed as he pulled out to the main road.

“Oh come on, You’re beaming lasers of annoyance and anger, I’m pretty sure the others could smell it pretty clearly.”

He was silent for a while not looking at me at all, and then he abruptly stopped on the side of the road where the forest was and turned to me with an unreadable face. 

“Because I like you, and I don’t like how you were in room with another male, that was naked might I add.”

At his response I just smiled. 

“Stop smiling its already annoying enough that I’m so into you when you’re not.”

Uh oh. 

“I never said I wasn’t into you.” I said as the corners of my smile came down to a neutral face.

And at that he leaned in as my eyes closed slowly anticipating the soft lips I had wanted for quite sometime now. 

It was just soft at first and then it got heated and turned into an absolutely hot make out session. 

I unbuckled my belt and moved to straddle him, I lightly grinded on him and he growled low in his chest. And as we pulled apart from breath his eyes were glowing yellow as mine were glowing a reddish pink. Although I wanted him right then and there I don’t know what it was but something was telling me now wasn’t the time. 

“I think thats all for today Brett.”

That was the first time I actually called him by his name and it sounded more than perfect. I moved back to the passengers seat, although he groaned a bit at the loss in contact. 

“Don’t get me wrong I want you here right now, but we really should get home for school tomorrow and we have a chimera murder at the moment.” I looked at him apologetically, which he just accepted with a small shrug of his shoulders along with that smile that melted me so easily. 

For the rest of the drive home, his right hand was on my thigh the whole way, as I intertwined out fingers with the corners of my lips pulling up.

[networkingdefinition]

Sewing Quotes

Official Website: Sewing Quotes

• A good use for me is to let me go away with my sewing machine and come back with some really new stuff. – Betsey Johnson • A tranquil woman can go on sewing longer than an angry man can go on fuming. – George Bernard Shaw • All the asylum clothing is made by the patients, but sewing does not employ one’s mind. After several months’ confinement the thoughts of the busy world grow faint, and all the poor prisoners can do is to sit and ponder over their hopeless fate – Nellie Bly • Among the worst examples is that of the Alberni Indian Residential School (British Columbia) where, during the 1920s, children caught talking Indian suffered the hideous ordeal of having sewing needles pushed through their tongues. – Ward Churchill • Any fool can make a quilt; and, after we had made a couple of dozen over twenty years ago, we quit the business with a conviction that nobody but a fool would spend so much time in cutting bits of dry goods into yet small bits and sewing them together again, just for the sake of making believe that they were busy at practical work. – Abigail Scott Duniway • As beautiful as the chance encounter of a sewing machine and an umbrella on an operating table. – Isidore Ducasse Lautreamont

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Sew', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_sew').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_sew img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • By now it was clear that Howl was in a mood to produce green slime any second. Sophie hurriedly put her sewing away. “I’ll make some hot buttered toast,” she said. “Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy??” Howl asked. “Make toast! – Diana Wynne Jones • Comparing science and religion isn’t like comparing apples and oranges – it’s more like apples and sewing machines. – Jack Horner • Conversion is not a repairing of the old building, but it takes all down and erects a new structure. It is not the sewing on a patch of holiness; but, with the true convert, holiness is woven into all his powers, principles and practice. – Joseph Alleine

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling] • Destiny was a machine built over time, each choice that you made in life adding another gear, another conveyor belt, another assemblyman. Where you ended up was the product that was spit out at the end—and there was no going back for a redo. You couldn‟t take a peek at what you‟d manufactured and decide, Oh, wait, I wanted to make sewing machines instead of machine guns; let me go back to the beginning and start again. One shot. That was all you got. – J.R. Ward

• Even though I’m resting I’m accomplishing something by sewing that shirt that I’ve been meaning to sew for weeks. And it’s relaxing. It’s so very meditative and quiet and enjoyable. But at least I’m producing something. I’m being productive in some way. I have a very hard time being completely idle. – Evangeline Lilly • For a long time Christianity has sewn its teachings into the fabric of Western culture. That was a good thing …. But the season of sewing is ending. Now is a time for rending, not for the sake of disengaging from culture or retreating from the public square, but so that our salt does not lose its savor. – R. R. Reno • From about eight years old I was always making things on the sewing machine. Friends would see me making dresses and costumes, and I’d use difficult fabrics such as Lycra and elastic. But you know, my dad was creative and my brother is inventive too. – Melissa George • God is not remote from us. He is at the point of my pen, my (pick) shovel, my paint brush, my (sewing) needle – and my heart and thoughts. – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin • Grace cannot wipe out the law of sewing and reaping. – Rod Parsley • He [my father] didn’t have a basement workshop as such, but I know that he did build things, construct things, repair things. My mother, likewise, was sewing and doing activities that often take place in a household. – Paul Smith • Here she was, being rescued by a socialist, feminist, lesbian, baby-killing, foreign terrorist. What would the ladies in the sewing circle say to that? – Hillary Jordan • How odd it is that sewing is thought to be ‘women’s work’ when surgeons, sailors, and cowboys sew too. Yet how many female thoracic surgeons are there? And if precision motor activities are thought to be performed better by women, why wouldn’t they make better surgeons too? – Gretel Ehrlich • I actually wanted to be a fashion designer. I did a lot with the sewing machine at home – – for Barbie or for carnival or just for fun. Then I saw this ad in the newspaper. And as young girls sometimes do some stupid things, I filled in the coupon and sent in my photos. – Heidi Klum • I always had the fear of being separated and abandoned. The sewing is my attempt to keep things together and make things whole. – Louise Bourgeois • I am certain that a Sewing Machine would relieve as much human suffering as a hundred Lunatic Asylums, and possibly a good deal more. – Margaret Atwood • I am told by those who know that there are six varieties of hangover-the Broken Compass, the Sewing Machine, the Comet, the Atomic, the Cement Mixer and the Gremlin Boogie, and his manner suggested that he had got them all. – P. G. Wodehouse • I come from a family of musicians. Even the sewing machine is a Singer. – Frank Carson • I don’t collect things per se, but I do pick up things as I go. Like, in my studio I have an old sewing machine from Germany that my dad gave me, and then something else that I got from a friend in India, and a piece of flooring from one of my shows. – Jason Wu • I don’t like sewing machines. I don’t understand how a needle with a thread going through the tip of it can interlock the thread by jamming itself into a little goddamn spool. It’s contrary to nature and it irritates me. – Neal Stephenson • I don’t really have a domestic inclination. Even my apartment has a semblance of a storage facility. It’s just stacks, there are no bookshelves, just books and piles of stamp collections and weird little sewing and knitting projects. – Sufjan Stevens • I feel like I am always the one tearing everything up and forever sewing it back together. – Saadat Hasan Manto • I hate a woman who offers herself because she ought to do so, and cold and dry thinks of her sewing when making love. – Ovid • I have a great admiration and tenderness for Azzedine Alaia. I haven’t seen him in a while, but I guess he must be still sewing some dresses at night. – Hedi Slimane • I have an iPod, but I do still love CDs. There’s something nice and tangible about a CD. I’m a mixture of old and new – I love my sewing machine, but I’ve also embraced new technology. The iPad is what did it for me – it’s extraordinary. – Twiggy • I have written most of my melodies walking and I feel it is definitely one of the most helpful ways of sewing all of the different things in your life together and seeing the whole picture. – Bjork • I need a little language such as lovers use, words of one syllable such as children speak when they come into the room and find their mother sewing and pick up some scrap of bright wool, a feather, or a shred of chintz. I need a howl; a cry. When the storm crosses the marsh and sweeps over me where I lie in the ditch unregarded I need no words. Nothing neat. Nothing that comes down with all its feet on the floor. None of those resonances and lovely echoes that break and chime from nerve to nerve in our breasts making wild music, false phrases. I have done with phrases. – Virginia Woolf • I preferred sewing to bossing little children. – Mother Jones • I remember an old Singer sewing machine at home that belonged to my grandmother. It had a pedal. My mom taught me how to use it when I was 12 years old. I used to find it so intriguing, how a flat piece of material could be made into an object that had so many uses. – Bibhu Mohapatra • I stand before you as the governor of Texas but also stand before you the son of two tenant farmers. Ray Perry who came home after 35 bombing missions over Europe to work his little corner of land out there and Amelia who made sure that my sister Milla and I had everything that we needed, included hand sewing my clothes until I went off to college. – Rick Perry • I started designing and getting into cutting and sewing, I also started learning how to do patterns and tech packs. From there I transitioned from challenging myself to make T-shirts to starting to make custom pieces for celebrities. – Fred Foster • I think it’s a real shame so many schools have taken out the hands-on classes. Art, music, auto mechanics, cooking, sewing, these are all things that can turn into jobs. You know, wood shop, steel shop, welding. These are all things that can turn into great careers, get kids interested. Things they can do with other students. Other things for our word thinkers: journalism clubs, drama clubs. – Temple Grandin • I think one of the worst things schools have done is taken out all of the stuff like art, music, woodworking, sewing, cooking, welding, auto-shop. All these things you can turn into careers. How can you get interested in these careers if you don’t try them on a little bit? – Temple Grandin • I took my husband to the hospital yesterday to have 17 stitches out – that’ll teach him to buy me a sewing kit for my birthday. – Jo Brand • I use filming as an excuse to take classes. I got my certification in sailing for ‘Wedding Crashers,’ and now I can handle a 26-foot boat. I played a seamstress once, so I took sewing classes. I love dipping into these other lives. – Rachel McAdams • I was never really that great at sewing, but I had a good idea of what I wanted things to look like. – Bethany Cosentino • I wondered about Mrs. Winterbottom and what she meant about living a tiny life. If she didn’t like all that baking and cleaning and jumping up to get bottles of nail polish remover and sewing hems, why did she do it? Why didn’t she tell them to do some of the things themselves? Maybe she was afraid there would be nothing left for her to do. There would be no need for her and she would become invisible and no one would notice. – Sharon Creech • I’ve worked in construction, in a factory sewing clothes. I also sold flowers and doughnuts – just odd jobs to try to make 10 pesos, which is equivalent to 20 cents. – Manny Pacquiao • If instead of looking at income, you look at levels of consumption, if anything that’s become more equal. The fraction of families that have a dishwasher, that have a sewing machine, that have a television set. In respect to consumption, it’s very hard to avoid the view that people have been getting more equal rather than more unequal. – Milton Friedman • If the sewing societies, the avails of whose industry are now expended in supporting and educating young men for the ministry, were to withdraw their contributions to these objects, and give them where they are more needed, to their advancement of their own sex in useful learning, the next generation might furnish sufficient proof, that in intelligence and ability to master the whole circle of sciences, woman is not inferior to man. – Sarah Moore Grimke • If we didn’t want to upset anyone, we would make films about sewing, but even that could be dangerous. But I think finally, in a film, it is how the balance is and the feelings are. But I think there has to be those contrasts and strong things within a film for the total experience. – David Lynch • If women were once permitted to read Sophocles and work with logarithms, or to nibble at any side of the apple of knowledge, there would be an end forever to their sewing on buttons and embroidering slippers. – Anna Julia Cooper • If you don’t have experience sewing, start with that, because that will inform what you are able to design. – Tim Gunn • I’m always tinkering with something – suddenly I’ll think I can work with wood, but then I’ll realize I can’t, so I go back to sewing. – Melissa McCarthy • In an age in which the classic words of the Surrealists— ‘As beautiful as the unexpected meeting, on a dissecting table, of a sewing machine and an umbrella’—can become reality and perfectly achievable with an atom bomb, so too has there been a surge of interest in biomechanoids – H. R. Giger • In fact, he’s never taken an interest in a woman before. I was beginning to to suspect he might prefer one of his male sneaks, but now…” She paused dramatically. “Now, we have the lovely, intelligent Yelena to get Valek’s cold heart pumping.” “You really should get out of your sewing room more. You need fresh air and a dose of reality,” I said knowing better than to believe a word Dilana said, but unable to control the silly little grin on my face. Her sweet, melodious laughter followed me into the hallway. “You know I’m right, ” she called. – Maria V. Snyder • In Seattle you haven’t had enough coffee until you can thread a sewing machine while it’s running. – Jeff Bezos • In some hotels they give you a little sewing kit. You know what I do? I sew the towels together. One time I sewed a button on a lampshade. I like to leave a mark. – George Carlin • I’ve always been altering clothing my entire life. But I would have to say my first real amateur endeavor would have to be drawing, designing and then literally cutting and sewing every piece of costume for my first band I formed in Hollywood. – Ashley Purdy • I’ve had to guess at her, sewing her skin together as I sew mine, though with a different stitch. – Adrienne Rich • Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I’ve decided, is only a slow sewing shut. – Jodi Picoult • Like all our memories, we like to take it out once in a while and lay it flat on the kitchen table, the way my wife does with her sewing patterns, where we line up the shape of our lives against that which we thought it would be by now. – Claire Vaye Watkins • Mama sewed the rags together, sewing every piece with love. She made my coat of many colors that I was proud of. – Dolly Parton • Mama’s love had always been the kind that acted itself out with soup pot and sewing basket. But now that these things were taken away, the love seemed as whole as before. She sat in her chair at the window and loved us. She loved the people she saw in the street– and beyond: her love took in the city, the land of Holland, the world. And so I learned that love is larger than the walls which shut it in. – Corrie Ten Boom • Motherhood is a Sisyphean task. You finish sewing one seam shut, and another rips open. I have come to believe that this life I’m wearing will never really fit. – Jodi Picoult • My grandmother raised five children during the Depression by herself. At 50, she threw her sewing machine into the back of a pickup truck and drove from North Dakota to California. She was a real survivor, so that’s my stock. That’s how I want my kids to be too. – Michelle Pfeiffer • My mother was kept very busy with her sewing; sometimes she would have another woman helping her. – James Weldon Johnson • My regular life today is reading books, making dolls houses, sewing dolls with my daughter and barbequing. – Milla Jovovich • No one expects a woman busy at her sewing to pay attention to what’s being said around her. Nevermind if a man’s mother and sister showerd them they heard everything while they stictched, he’ll still think a woman who plies her needles saves all her brains for the work. You’re a far better spy hemming sheets than if you clank with daggers. – Tamora Pierce • One has to watch out for engineers. They begin with the sewing machine and end up with the atomic bomb. – Marcel Pagnol • Poetry is a bad medium for philosophy. Everything in the philosophical poem has to satisfy irreconcilable requirements: for instance, the last demand that we should make of philosophy (that it be interesting) is the first we make of a poem; the philosophical poet has an elevated and methodical, but forlorn and absurd air as he works away at his flying tank, his sewing-machine that also plays the piano. – Randall Jarrell • Radio, sewing machine, bookends, ironing board and that great big piano lamp – peace, that’s what I like. Butterbean vines planted all along the front where the strings are. – Eudora Welty • Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • So here I am, sending a two-ounce mouse down into a dungeon with a sewing needle to save a human princess, and I don’t know how in the world he’s going to do it. I have no idea. That was the first time it occurred to me that writing the story was roughly equivalent to Despereaux’s descent into the dungeon. I was tremendously aware of that as I was writing. I thought, “I have to be brave or else I’m not going to be able to tell it.” But it’s the only way that I can write. If I know what’s going to happen, I’m not interested in telling the story. – Kate DiCamillo • Some women don’t care how their quilts look. They piece the squares together any sort of way, but she couldn’t stand careless sewing. She wanted her quilts, and Joy’s, made right. Quilts stay a long time after people are gone from this world, and witness about them for good or bad. She wanted people to see, when she was gone, that she’d never been a shiftless or don’t-care woman. – Julia Peterkin • Talking things over has its place in an organization [but] so-called conferences are being grossly overdone. One executive stops at the desk of another to tell him, perhaps, about the wonderful score he made at golf on Saturday afternoon. This chin-chin immediately becomes a conference, and neither the office boy nor the telephone operator must disturb either gentleman. More idle gossip is indulged in at many business conferences these days than an old wives’ sewing circle would be guilty of. – B. C. Forbes • Tanya Ward Goodman, writing with a big heart, clear eyes, and a light touch, allows us a privileged glimpse into the shabby, enchanted world of traveling carnivals, roadside attractions, and a beloved, eccentric father’s descent into Alzheimers. Just as her dad animated the handcarved, miniature western world of Tinkertown from coat hangers, inner tubes and old sewing machine motors, Tanya Ward Goodman has fashioned her complex and often hilarious memories into a beguiling, wry, and moving work of art. – Michelle Huneven • The chilly December day! two shivering bicycle mechanics from Dayton, Ohio first felt their homemade contraption whittled out of hickory sticks, gummed together with Arnstein’s bicycle cement, stretched with muslin they’d sewn on their sister’s sewing machine in their own backyard on Hawthorn Street in Dayton, Ohio, soar into the air above the dunes and the wide beach at Kitty Hawk. – John Dos Passos • The point is that no matter what you choose to do with your body when you die, it won’t, ultimately, be very appealing. If you are inclined to donate yourself to science, you should not let images of dissection or dismemberment put you off. They are no more or less gruesome, in my opinion, than ordinary decay or the sewing shut of your jaws via your nostrils for a funeral viewing. – Mary Roach • The sewing machine joins what the scissors have cut asunder, plus whatever else comes in its path. – Mason Cooley • There are only three American names that are known in every corner of the globe: Singer sewing machines, Coca Cola and Elizabeth Arden. – Elizabeth Arden • There’s one little room in my house which is filled with all my clutter and bits and pieces. My sewing machine is up there, and all my knitting stuff. Its a place where I can go to relax and unwind. I don’t get to spend a lot of time up there, but at least I know its there. – Julia Roberts • There’s something very intimate about taking someone’s work, turning it over and unpicking it. In the same way people have unique handwriting people have a sewing style. You do start building a fantasy relationship with the person. – Matt Smith • What does this patch-sewing mean you ask? Eating and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body is always getting torn. You patch it with food and other ego-satisfactions. – Rumi • What you do in the present—by painting, preaching, singing, sewing, praying, teaching, building hospitals, digging wells, campaigning for justice, writing poems, caring for the needy, loving your neighbor as yourself—will last into God’s future. These activities are not simply ways of making the present life a little less beastly, a little more bearable, until the day when we leave it behind altogether. They are part of what we may call building for God’s kingdom. – N. T. Wright • When I moved out of my mom’s house at 18 I was almost as sad to leave her sewing machine behind as anything else. – Beth Ditto • When poets go off the boil, they sound like bumble bees; when critics do, they sound like sewing machines. • When you are a kid you have your own language, and unlike French or Spanish or whatever you start learning in fourth grade, this one you are born with, and eventually lose…Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult…is only a slow sewing it shut. – Jodi Picoult • Writing is like anything – baseball playing, piano playing, sewing, hammering nails. The more you work on it, the better you get. But it seems to take a longer time to get better at writing than hammering nails. – Betsy Byars • Writing is very improvisational. It’s like trying to fix a broken sewing machine with safety pins and rubber bands. A lot of tinkering. – Margaret Atwood • You know how people love to glamorize poverty? There’s nothing glamorous about it. But it did make me really creative. Those days, I was literally taking t-shirts in the day and sewing them back together to make dresses for the night. – Beth Ditto • You sweat out the free agent thing in November, then you make the trades in December. Then you struggle to sign the guys left in January, and in February I get down to sewing all the new numbers on the uniforms. – Whitey Herzog

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[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Jealous (ITA Special)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 2 Bonus Episode

Warnings: none.

Word Count: Jealous Loki was requested by anon. I don’t know who you are but let me tell you this. I practically wrote this with all my senses closed. Tight. Shut. Just wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and still kept writing even after I felt I was pretty tired. Don’t know what came over me. It just came out and spread all over here by the mere thought of not writing

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The halls tonight were barely lit but Loki could see why there wasn't much need for the lights in here. The people present in Tony Stark's gala were enough to set the entire estate ablaze. No. Wait. Scratch that. Tony Stark alone was enough to set the Avenger's facility ablaze. The rest of the crowd? The rest of the crowd was just a bonus, adding twinkle effects to the star that was grabbing everyone's attention.

But as it went without saying, Loki himself was grabbing a lot of eyeballs, stares following the man who was looking dapper as the most delicious sin that ever walked in a human form on earth. Both men and women could not keep their eyes off this perfection surpassing Greek Gods- the ones that were supposed to be the epitome of perfection. A lady was even heard cursing 'oh fuck me' out loud as he passed her with a knowing smirk on his face, clearly making her suffer breathlessness for the next few minutes.

The music was quite well for his taste. Loki had to admit, if anyone knew how to party, it was Stark. No one made the best of entertainment like this man.

"Oh come on!" He heard a familiar voice gasp in his direction from the bar. "You really don't want me to win any bet against you, do you?"

Loki watched Scott reflect despair on his face as he gestured at the God with utter disappointment. "You were supposed to put in minimal effort, man. Do you understand what minimal even means? Standing there looking all hot and sexy. Making straight men and lesbians question their sexuality!"

Javier stood next to Scott, taking Loki's entirety frame by frame from head to toe with his camera. Peter, who was watching all of this unfold while eating deconstructed spring rolls, leaned in to whisper to Javier to 'keep today's recording in a safe. You have no idea how much some people would pay just to watch him in a suit.'

"I just put the first thing I got my hands on, Scott," Loki stated, leaning over the bar and gesturing the bartender for a drink that neither Scott nor Peter understood, "not my fault if I am devilishly handsome by default."

"Yeah well the devil's not helping right now when I have placed my bet against you."

Loki smirked his smirk, making the guy behind the bar nearly tip the glass off the edge before hurriedly stopping it from falling. Peter looked into Javier's camera to mouth 'wow' before turning back to Loki and Scott.

"How nice of you to show so much confidence in Y/N, Scott."

Scott jumped at Natasha's voice coming from right behind him, turning to find the assassin dressed in a red gown that hugged her curves with the will of a fish trying to survive on land in a small pond. She herself was catching quite the looks- making a lot of ladies wonder whether what they were feeling was envy or just pure excitement between their legs.

"Of course, Scott," Loki added to Nat's sarcastic statement earlier, taking a sip of whatever mysterious sweet intoxication he had ordered, "give Y/N some credit to wager she could look better than this."

"Okay," Nat interrupted him with narrowed eyes, "you better stop being so smug, Loki, and start thinking about what would happen she kicked your ass."

"Really?" Loki and Scott asked in unison. The latter got Nat's elbow in his gut.

"She's much more powerful than you think, Gourdy," Nat divulged, "you really should give the credit where it's due."

Loki found himself chuckling before his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You really think the woman who was literally dragged out by you and Wanda to go get herself a dress for this ball will actually take the time and effort to look better than a God? It's good to dream, Natasha but only to a limit."

The green eyes looking at Loki did not stir for a single second while multiple gasps came out from the guys surrounding Loki. "See?" he whispered close to Nat, "even these men agree."

Now it was Nat's turn to smirk and tilt her head, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and sympathy. She stepped closer to Loki, taking his tie in her fingers and straightening it. "They are not gasping in awe of you, Loki," she whispered slowly, giving the God time to register every syllable, "they are gasping at the audacity of me winning a bet. Once again." She finished him with a wink before letting her eyes go behind him.

Loki, confused and egotistically pinched, turned around to find how exactly Nat won the be-

Oh. Oh!

You stood on the stairs, a sight fit for Valhalla. No. You were too majestic even for Valhalla. The green flowing over your body like a green stream finding its way down your body to fall with the most sophisticated rush. The straps holding your dress went to the back to twirl around a golden ring and come back down by the waist, leaving your back bare. Your hair was loose unlike the rest of the time, framing your face in light and shadow that was catching more than just Loki's heart. On one side, next to your chest were two green stones cut to perfection, glittering with the dim lights and catching everyone that even had you in your field of vision.

Loki stopped short of breathing, letting the beats from Alina Baraz's Pretty Thoughts fill every sensation he felt in those next few moments.

You stepped down the stairs, letting the slit in the dress expose your legs to the light that felt like it existed just so it could shine on them. Your grace when you pulled a strand of your hair behind your ear, exposing the golden earring twisting and dangling down your ears, wanting to touch your shoulders but being denied the pleasure of doing so. Your movement, as you swung your hips when you walked- a sight that was making so many souls stir at the sight in front of them. Too much heat. Somebody crank up the AC!

Someone out there responsible for the tunes seemed to sense the change in the surroundings by your mere presence, turning to the much more sedated and bass-filled version of Can't Take My Eyes Off You, giving the curious eyes a tune to feel their emotions.

Loki, once leaning ever so casually over the bar suddenly had to unconsciously feel the weight on his legs when he watched the smile on your lips painted nude- a shade of transparency- while your eyes glimmered with a playful smoke- a hue of everything that is delightfully shameful. But that was not what hit his heart through his eyes. It was you being stopped short by a man unknown, taking your hand and giving it a light kiss before making you laugh.

Loki felt something inside him twitch. To add to that, every pair of eyes standing next to him- along with that camera- turned to watch him like a bundle of curious hawks.

"Who's that?" Loki tried to sound casual while he took a good swig of his drink.

Nat looked at the man his eyes were pointing to- the one who was bringing you to tears from all the laughing fits he was giving you- and quite reluctantly let her lips leave the straw she was drinking from to speak. "Oh! That's Rhodey's nephew, Matt. He's a wildlife specialist. He removed a species of whales from the endangered list."

Loki, Scott and Peter turned to look at Nat with furrowed brows. Nat raised her fingers before she could hear their thoughts. "No! He did not kill them!"

They could see Matt bringing his hand forward for you as a sign of some formal request.

"Do you think he's asking her for a dance?" Scott whispered over Loki's shoulder.

You were already giving your hand in his, allowing him to walk you to the centre of the room where other couples were dancing.

"Oh my God, they are dancing!" Scott whispered again, catalysing this uneasy feeling rising in Loki's nerves. "Oh my God his hand is on her waist. Oh my God, it's going over her back. Her bare back! Oh m-"

"I can see that, Scott," Loki broke, "I can see all of it, thank you very much."

Scott raised his hands like a white flag, taking a step back as Loki turned around to watch you while the former turned to the camera to mouth his shock.

Loki could see that Scott was right. Matt had his hands on your bare back, holding you close to him, closer than one needs to while dancing- that too in such a formal setting. Clearly, that man did not know the etiquettes of the ballroom. Loki scoffed internally for thinking you would have a better taste in men after your last failed relationship. Right? You could at least show interest in men who knew how to treat their dance partner. Know their footwork, how much to move while you moved, how much to step back as they twirled you and let a mirage of a snake coiling up and over your shoulder with green eyes rest on your right shoulder be created while doing so.

Wait...

What?

Loki was not hallucinating. It really was a snake. When you twirled and let the lights shine on you, your dress created a phantasm of a golden and green snake running up your being. It was incredibly marvellous- partially because of the intricate design and mostly because he knew Thor had told you about his childhood snake stories this week.

And yet whenever you landed back in Matt's arms, something inside Loki seemed to squeeze. His eyes were not ready to leave the stranger's hands on your skin.

"Anyone can save whales. I don't get what's the big deal about it anyway." Loki did not realise those words leaving him. Nat raised her brows at him while Scott and Peter exchanged knowing glances with each other and the camera, Javier smiling like goof behind the lens.

"And isn't he too young?" Loki took another swig of his drink- before making a face at how disgusting it tasted- and turned towards others, trying not to lose your sight in the crowd. "He must be a little one like you, Parker."

"Wow," Peter exclaimed his hurt with crossed arms.

"He's...he's as old as Y/N," Nat said after a quick mental calculation.

Loki could feel something inside him feel like falling from a great height as Matt dipped you before bringing you back up, all in one full smooth swoop.

Crack!

Scott and Peter felt their eyes pop out at the cracked pieces of glass sticking in Loki's hand. Nat too had turned to look at the source of the sound. But she, unlike the two men, just furrowed her brows. "Oh, you've glass in your hand."

Loki broke out of a trance from her words, turning to look at the remnants of his drink running out of the broken shards of the glass while the rest were stuck inside his hand, blocking both the blood from rushing out and the skin from healing fully.

"Oh," Loki, much to the surprise of Scott and Peter, seemed unfazed by the whole situation, "I must have held on to the glass too ha-"

"Oh my God! Loki!"

Javier was nearly scared away from the group when he heard you shout from behind him, your eyes- carrying the look of horror- stuck on the pieces stuck in Loki's hand while your body moved on its own towards Loki, taking his injured hand in yours. "What the he- where's Bruce?"

Loki stood there for a moment- which seemed to stretch into infinity- to look at the lines of worry rising all over your face as you tried to get napkins after napkins to stop the blood from dropping, all the while asking him if he was okay. He could see the genuine concern in your eyes on watching him get hurt- the trembling hands trying to be steady just so they could help his. He saw. And he felt; felt much worse than he did before. Why?

Because he clearly could not see you in pain. Being happy with a stranger was far better than the sight of you losing all the glow in you.

"I'm fine," he finally uttered, trying to calm your anxious heart, pulling out the shards from his other hand like it was no big deal.

"Are you shitting me right now!" you announced, grabbing his better hand and pushing it away from his other before pulling it towards the door. "You're coming with me. Come on."

And so, you took him away from the party, up in Bruce and Tony's lab, asking Friday's help for it all, who was happy to walk you through the process of letting her take care of the rest while you stood beside the God and watched the AI work its way around the smallest pieces stuck inside his skin while you bit on your nails.

"I uh-" Loki cleared his throat- "didn't realise you were the competitive type."

You looked up at him, your nail still resting between your teeth, your eyes still in a concerned trance. "Huh?"

"You really went all out with the whole...theme," he mentioned with a smirk, gesturing at your ensemble, making you look down at your dress.

The forceps took out the last bit of glass, sanitising Loki's hand and the workbench when looked back at him, nodded casually. "Oh yeah. Yeah, I was just channelling the irritating snake always hissing around me all day all night, pestering me with those googly eyes and big...noodle body. That's what I was going for."

...clearly not what Loki was thinking.

"What...what snake?"

You turned your lips and spoke with the most nonchalant air, "You."

Silence.

You pressed your lips, carefully taking your steps back towards the door.

"You-" he moved his now fully healed hand away from the bench to look at you with tanoffended expression- "little-" he stepped towards you, mirroring your careful pace- "minx-" dashing out the door behind your squealing figure roaring with laughter outside.

[equitiesstocks]

Sewing Quotes

Official Website: Sewing Quotes

• A good use for me is to let me go away with my sewing machine and come back with some really new stuff. – Betsey Johnson • A tranquil woman can go on sewing longer than an angry man can go on fuming. – George Bernard Shaw • All the asylum clothing is made by the patients, but sewing does not employ one’s mind. After several months’ confinement the thoughts of the busy world grow faint, and all the poor prisoners can do is to sit and ponder over their hopeless fate – Nellie Bly • Among the worst examples is that of the Alberni Indian Residential School (British Columbia) where, during the 1920s, children caught talking Indian suffered the hideous ordeal of having sewing needles pushed through their tongues. – Ward Churchill • Any fool can make a quilt; and, after we had made a couple of dozen over twenty years ago, we quit the business with a conviction that nobody but a fool would spend so much time in cutting bits of dry goods into yet small bits and sewing them together again, just for the sake of making believe that they were busy at practical work. – Abigail Scott Duniway • As beautiful as the chance encounter of a sewing machine and an umbrella on an operating table. – Isidore Ducasse Lautreamont

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Sew', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_sew').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_sew img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • By now it was clear that Howl was in a mood to produce green slime any second. Sophie hurriedly put her sewing away. “I’ll make some hot buttered toast,” she said. “Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy??” Howl asked. “Make toast! – Diana Wynne Jones • Comparing science and religion isn’t like comparing apples and oranges – it’s more like apples and sewing machines. – Jack Horner • Conversion is not a repairing of the old building, but it takes all down and erects a new structure. It is not the sewing on a patch of holiness; but, with the true convert, holiness is woven into all his powers, principles and practice. – Joseph Alleine

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling] • Destiny was a machine built over time, each choice that you made in life adding another gear, another conveyor belt, another assemblyman. Where you ended up was the product that was spit out at the end—and there was no going back for a redo. You couldn‟t take a peek at what you‟d manufactured and decide, Oh, wait, I wanted to make sewing machines instead of machine guns; let me go back to the beginning and start again. One shot. That was all you got. – J.R. Ward

• Even though I’m resting I’m accomplishing something by sewing that shirt that I’ve been meaning to sew for weeks. And it’s relaxing. It’s so very meditative and quiet and enjoyable. But at least I’m producing something. I’m being productive in some way. I have a very hard time being completely idle. – Evangeline Lilly • For a long time Christianity has sewn its teachings into the fabric of Western culture. That was a good thing …. But the season of sewing is ending. Now is a time for rending, not for the sake of disengaging from culture or retreating from the public square, but so that our salt does not lose its savor. – R. R. Reno • From about eight years old I was always making things on the sewing machine. Friends would see me making dresses and costumes, and I’d use difficult fabrics such as Lycra and elastic. But you know, my dad was creative and my brother is inventive too. – Melissa George • God is not remote from us. He is at the point of my pen, my (pick) shovel, my paint brush, my (sewing) needle – and my heart and thoughts. – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin • Grace cannot wipe out the law of sewing and reaping. – Rod Parsley • He [my father] didn’t have a basement workshop as such, but I know that he did build things, construct things, repair things. My mother, likewise, was sewing and doing activities that often take place in a household. – Paul Smith • Here she was, being rescued by a socialist, feminist, lesbian, baby-killing, foreign terrorist. What would the ladies in the sewing circle say to that? – Hillary Jordan • How odd it is that sewing is thought to be ‘women’s work’ when surgeons, sailors, and cowboys sew too. Yet how many female thoracic surgeons are there? And if precision motor activities are thought to be performed better by women, why wouldn’t they make better surgeons too? – Gretel Ehrlich • I actually wanted to be a fashion designer. I did a lot with the sewing machine at home – – for Barbie or for carnival or just for fun. Then I saw this ad in the newspaper. And as young girls sometimes do some stupid things, I filled in the coupon and sent in my photos. – Heidi Klum • I always had the fear of being separated and abandoned. The sewing is my attempt to keep things together and make things whole. – Louise Bourgeois • I am certain that a Sewing Machine would relieve as much human suffering as a hundred Lunatic Asylums, and possibly a good deal more. – Margaret Atwood • I am told by those who know that there are six varieties of hangover-the Broken Compass, the Sewing Machine, the Comet, the Atomic, the Cement Mixer and the Gremlin Boogie, and his manner suggested that he had got them all. – P. G. Wodehouse • I come from a family of musicians. Even the sewing machine is a Singer. – Frank Carson • I don’t collect things per se, but I do pick up things as I go. Like, in my studio I have an old sewing machine from Germany that my dad gave me, and then something else that I got from a friend in India, and a piece of flooring from one of my shows. – Jason Wu • I don’t like sewing machines. I don’t understand how a needle with a thread going through the tip of it can interlock the thread by jamming itself into a little goddamn spool. It’s contrary to nature and it irritates me. – Neal Stephenson • I don’t really have a domestic inclination. Even my apartment has a semblance of a storage facility. It’s just stacks, there are no bookshelves, just books and piles of stamp collections and weird little sewing and knitting projects. – Sufjan Stevens • I feel like I am always the one tearing everything up and forever sewing it back together. – Saadat Hasan Manto • I hate a woman who offers herself because she ought to do so, and cold and dry thinks of her sewing when making love. – Ovid • I have a great admiration and tenderness for Azzedine Alaia. I haven’t seen him in a while, but I guess he must be still sewing some dresses at night. – Hedi Slimane • I have an iPod, but I do still love CDs. There’s something nice and tangible about a CD. I’m a mixture of old and new – I love my sewing machine, but I’ve also embraced new technology. The iPad is what did it for me – it’s extraordinary. – Twiggy • I have written most of my melodies walking and I feel it is definitely one of the most helpful ways of sewing all of the different things in your life together and seeing the whole picture. – Bjork • I need a little language such as lovers use, words of one syllable such as children speak when they come into the room and find their mother sewing and pick up some scrap of bright wool, a feather, or a shred of chintz. I need a howl; a cry. When the storm crosses the marsh and sweeps over me where I lie in the ditch unregarded I need no words. Nothing neat. Nothing that comes down with all its feet on the floor. None of those resonances and lovely echoes that break and chime from nerve to nerve in our breasts making wild music, false phrases. I have done with phrases. – Virginia Woolf • I preferred sewing to bossing little children. – Mother Jones • I remember an old Singer sewing machine at home that belonged to my grandmother. It had a pedal. My mom taught me how to use it when I was 12 years old. I used to find it so intriguing, how a flat piece of material could be made into an object that had so many uses. – Bibhu Mohapatra • I stand before you as the governor of Texas but also stand before you the son of two tenant farmers. Ray Perry who came home after 35 bombing missions over Europe to work his little corner of land out there and Amelia who made sure that my sister Milla and I had everything that we needed, included hand sewing my clothes until I went off to college. – Rick Perry • I started designing and getting into cutting and sewing, I also started learning how to do patterns and tech packs. From there I transitioned from challenging myself to make T-shirts to starting to make custom pieces for celebrities. – Fred Foster • I think it’s a real shame so many schools have taken out the hands-on classes. Art, music, auto mechanics, cooking, sewing, these are all things that can turn into jobs. You know, wood shop, steel shop, welding. These are all things that can turn into great careers, get kids interested. Things they can do with other students. Other things for our word thinkers: journalism clubs, drama clubs. – Temple Grandin • I think one of the worst things schools have done is taken out all of the stuff like art, music, woodworking, sewing, cooking, welding, auto-shop. All these things you can turn into careers. How can you get interested in these careers if you don’t try them on a little bit? – Temple Grandin • I took my husband to the hospital yesterday to have 17 stitches out – that’ll teach him to buy me a sewing kit for my birthday. – Jo Brand • I use filming as an excuse to take classes. I got my certification in sailing for ‘Wedding Crashers,’ and now I can handle a 26-foot boat. I played a seamstress once, so I took sewing classes. I love dipping into these other lives. – Rachel McAdams • I was never really that great at sewing, but I had a good idea of what I wanted things to look like. – Bethany Cosentino • I wondered about Mrs. Winterbottom and what she meant about living a tiny life. If she didn’t like all that baking and cleaning and jumping up to get bottles of nail polish remover and sewing hems, why did she do it? Why didn’t she tell them to do some of the things themselves? Maybe she was afraid there would be nothing left for her to do. There would be no need for her and she would become invisible and no one would notice. – Sharon Creech • I’ve worked in construction, in a factory sewing clothes. I also sold flowers and doughnuts – just odd jobs to try to make 10 pesos, which is equivalent to 20 cents. – Manny Pacquiao • If instead of looking at income, you look at levels of consumption, if anything that’s become more equal. The fraction of families that have a dishwasher, that have a sewing machine, that have a television set. In respect to consumption, it’s very hard to avoid the view that people have been getting more equal rather than more unequal. – Milton Friedman • If the sewing societies, the avails of whose industry are now expended in supporting and educating young men for the ministry, were to withdraw their contributions to these objects, and give them where they are more needed, to their advancement of their own sex in useful learning, the next generation might furnish sufficient proof, that in intelligence and ability to master the whole circle of sciences, woman is not inferior to man. – Sarah Moore Grimke • If we didn’t want to upset anyone, we would make films about sewing, but even that could be dangerous. But I think finally, in a film, it is how the balance is and the feelings are. But I think there has to be those contrasts and strong things within a film for the total experience. – David Lynch • If women were once permitted to read Sophocles and work with logarithms, or to nibble at any side of the apple of knowledge, there would be an end forever to their sewing on buttons and embroidering slippers. – Anna Julia Cooper • If you don’t have experience sewing, start with that, because that will inform what you are able to design. – Tim Gunn • I’m always tinkering with something – suddenly I’ll think I can work with wood, but then I’ll realize I can’t, so I go back to sewing. – Melissa McCarthy • In an age in which the classic words of the Surrealists— ‘As beautiful as the unexpected meeting, on a dissecting table, of a sewing machine and an umbrella’—can become reality and perfectly achievable with an atom bomb, so too has there been a surge of interest in biomechanoids – H. R. Giger • In fact, he’s never taken an interest in a woman before. I was beginning to to suspect he might prefer one of his male sneaks, but now…” She paused dramatically. “Now, we have the lovely, intelligent Yelena to get Valek’s cold heart pumping.” “You really should get out of your sewing room more. You need fresh air and a dose of reality,” I said knowing better than to believe a word Dilana said, but unable to control the silly little grin on my face. Her sweet, melodious laughter followed me into the hallway. “You know I’m right, ” she called. – Maria V. Snyder • In Seattle you haven’t had enough coffee until you can thread a sewing machine while it’s running. – Jeff Bezos • In some hotels they give you a little sewing kit. You know what I do? I sew the towels together. One time I sewed a button on a lampshade. I like to leave a mark. – George Carlin • I’ve always been altering clothing my entire life. But I would have to say my first real amateur endeavor would have to be drawing, designing and then literally cutting and sewing every piece of costume for my first band I formed in Hollywood. – Ashley Purdy • I’ve had to guess at her, sewing her skin together as I sew mine, though with a different stitch. – Adrienne Rich • Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I’ve decided, is only a slow sewing shut. – Jodi Picoult • Like all our memories, we like to take it out once in a while and lay it flat on the kitchen table, the way my wife does with her sewing patterns, where we line up the shape of our lives against that which we thought it would be by now. – Claire Vaye Watkins • Mama sewed the rags together, sewing every piece with love. She made my coat of many colors that I was proud of. – Dolly Parton • Mama’s love had always been the kind that acted itself out with soup pot and sewing basket. But now that these things were taken away, the love seemed as whole as before. She sat in her chair at the window and loved us. She loved the people she saw in the street– and beyond: her love took in the city, the land of Holland, the world. And so I learned that love is larger than the walls which shut it in. – Corrie Ten Boom • Motherhood is a Sisyphean task. You finish sewing one seam shut, and another rips open. I have come to believe that this life I’m wearing will never really fit. – Jodi Picoult • My grandmother raised five children during the Depression by herself. At 50, she threw her sewing machine into the back of a pickup truck and drove from North Dakota to California. She was a real survivor, so that’s my stock. That’s how I want my kids to be too. – Michelle Pfeiffer • My mother was kept very busy with her sewing; sometimes she would have another woman helping her. – James Weldon Johnson • My regular life today is reading books, making dolls houses, sewing dolls with my daughter and barbequing. – Milla Jovovich • No one expects a woman busy at her sewing to pay attention to what’s being said around her. Nevermind if a man’s mother and sister showerd them they heard everything while they stictched, he’ll still think a woman who plies her needles saves all her brains for the work. You’re a far better spy hemming sheets than if you clank with daggers. – Tamora Pierce • One has to watch out for engineers. They begin with the sewing machine and end up with the atomic bomb. – Marcel Pagnol • Poetry is a bad medium for philosophy. Everything in the philosophical poem has to satisfy irreconcilable requirements: for instance, the last demand that we should make of philosophy (that it be interesting) is the first we make of a poem; the philosophical poet has an elevated and methodical, but forlorn and absurd air as he works away at his flying tank, his sewing-machine that also plays the piano. – Randall Jarrell • Radio, sewing machine, bookends, ironing board and that great big piano lamp – peace, that’s what I like. Butterbean vines planted all along the front where the strings are. – Eudora Welty • Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • So here I am, sending a two-ounce mouse down into a dungeon with a sewing needle to save a human princess, and I don’t know how in the world he’s going to do it. I have no idea. That was the first time it occurred to me that writing the story was roughly equivalent to Despereaux’s descent into the dungeon. I was tremendously aware of that as I was writing. I thought, “I have to be brave or else I’m not going to be able to tell it.” But it’s the only way that I can write. If I know what’s going to happen, I’m not interested in telling the story. – Kate DiCamillo • Some women don’t care how their quilts look. They piece the squares together any sort of way, but she couldn’t stand careless sewing. She wanted her quilts, and Joy’s, made right. Quilts stay a long time after people are gone from this world, and witness about them for good or bad. She wanted people to see, when she was gone, that she’d never been a shiftless or don’t-care woman. – Julia Peterkin • Talking things over has its place in an organization [but] so-called conferences are being grossly overdone. One executive stops at the desk of another to tell him, perhaps, about the wonderful score he made at golf on Saturday afternoon. This chin-chin immediately becomes a conference, and neither the office boy nor the telephone operator must disturb either gentleman. More idle gossip is indulged in at many business conferences these days than an old wives’ sewing circle would be guilty of. – B. C. Forbes • Tanya Ward Goodman, writing with a big heart, clear eyes, and a light touch, allows us a privileged glimpse into the shabby, enchanted world of traveling carnivals, roadside attractions, and a beloved, eccentric father’s descent into Alzheimers. Just as her dad animated the handcarved, miniature western world of Tinkertown from coat hangers, inner tubes and old sewing machine motors, Tanya Ward Goodman has fashioned her complex and often hilarious memories into a beguiling, wry, and moving work of art. – Michelle Huneven • The chilly December day! two shivering bicycle mechanics from Dayton, Ohio first felt their homemade contraption whittled out of hickory sticks, gummed together with Arnstein’s bicycle cement, stretched with muslin they’d sewn on their sister’s sewing machine in their own backyard on Hawthorn Street in Dayton, Ohio, soar into the air above the dunes and the wide beach at Kitty Hawk. – John Dos Passos • The point is that no matter what you choose to do with your body when you die, it won’t, ultimately, be very appealing. If you are inclined to donate yourself to science, you should not let images of dissection or dismemberment put you off. They are no more or less gruesome, in my opinion, than ordinary decay or the sewing shut of your jaws via your nostrils for a funeral viewing. – Mary Roach • The sewing machine joins what the scissors have cut asunder, plus whatever else comes in its path. – Mason Cooley • There are only three American names that are known in every corner of the globe: Singer sewing machines, Coca Cola and Elizabeth Arden. – Elizabeth Arden • There’s one little room in my house which is filled with all my clutter and bits and pieces. My sewing machine is up there, and all my knitting stuff. Its a place where I can go to relax and unwind. I don’t get to spend a lot of time up there, but at least I know its there. – Julia Roberts • There’s something very intimate about taking someone’s work, turning it over and unpicking it. In the same way people have unique handwriting people have a sewing style. You do start building a fantasy relationship with the person. – Matt Smith • What does this patch-sewing mean you ask? Eating and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body is always getting torn. You patch it with food and other ego-satisfactions. – Rumi • What you do in the present—by painting, preaching, singing, sewing, praying, teaching, building hospitals, digging wells, campaigning for justice, writing poems, caring for the needy, loving your neighbor as yourself—will last into God’s future. These activities are not simply ways of making the present life a little less beastly, a little more bearable, until the day when we leave it behind altogether. They are part of what we may call building for God’s kingdom. – N. T. Wright • When I moved out of my mom’s house at 18 I was almost as sad to leave her sewing machine behind as anything else. – Beth Ditto • When poets go off the boil, they sound like bumble bees; when critics do, they sound like sewing machines. • When you are a kid you have your own language, and unlike French or Spanish or whatever you start learning in fourth grade, this one you are born with, and eventually lose…Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult…is only a slow sewing it shut. – Jodi Picoult • Writing is like anything – baseball playing, piano playing, sewing, hammering nails. The more you work on it, the better you get. But it seems to take a longer time to get better at writing than hammering nails. – Betsy Byars • Writing is very improvisational. It’s like trying to fix a broken sewing machine with safety pins and rubber bands. A lot of tinkering. – Margaret Atwood • You know how people love to glamorize poverty? There’s nothing glamorous about it. But it did make me really creative. Those days, I was literally taking t-shirts in the day and sewing them back together to make dresses for the night. – Beth Ditto • You sweat out the free agent thing in November, then you make the trades in December. Then you struggle to sign the guys left in January, and in February I get down to sewing all the new numbers on the uniforms. – Whitey Herzog

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