#also another thing i thought was cool was that you could select the alien skin colour without needing to be abducted like in sims 2 PC

[skeletalheartattack]

hey wormdoll what video game songs have you been listening to lately?

don't think ive ever been called a wormdoll before, that's a new one!

to answer your question, the last video game ost i listened to was the Sims 2, though specifically the console (ps2, xbox, gamecube) version's ost. it's primarily the pc's ost just extremely condensed down, but i have a lot of nostalgia from specifically the console version of Sims 2 since that was my favourite sims game when i was younger

[clairecrive]

can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x06)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 06: Mrs Silvertongue

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: one of those tropes. one of those hnnghh tropes

Word Count: I was supposed to post this four hours ago but my colleague called me to play and that dumb dork was drunk while I was laughing throughout. So, here it is. Also...I’m hot. No, I am actually hot. The temperatures are going up! I need some cool breeze.

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

"Everybody stay together. Do not make eye contact with strangers. Do not buy stuff you don't know about and definitely do not leave your eatables unattended."

The camera switched from Loki's barely composed face to your stuffed one strapping the backpack securely behind you before looking at Loki and the sandwich sitting on the seat between the two of you.

"Wha," you stated, still not swallowing, "iss wight hea. Sop bein a wowwie wat."

The camera in Javi's hand caught the bustle on the 'station' where you all were supposed to board shuttles to be on your way to another galaxy before travelling to Knowhere. The area was thousands of square feet wide made in a dome shape outside a planet currently under the supervision of the soldiers form Andromeda. After the War, the security had been tightened around galaxy travel to monitor any remains of the Radicals who had supported Thanos and were currently the most wanted criminals in the universe. Screens everywhere showed the flights and timings along with various commercials for products all around the galaxy. Some you were able to read thank to the translation glasses the Hardy boys provided you, others were a jumbled mess of strokes and illegible patterns. Creatures from all around the wonderful black expanse moved about in this station while soldiers who looked like they had been overly tanned scanned them and their belongings before sending them on their designated shuttles. It all worked as an airport. Except for one thing.

"Well, at least there's no random selection here that is not based on some 'racist profiling'," you quoted, getting a nod of agreement from Javi.

"Oh, there is racist profiling here," Loki interrupted your blissful thoughts, "but ever since the war, it has just been bent towards the ones who helped Thanos."

"Huh, even space isn't free from such mindsets then."

An announcement on the screens caught Loki's attention. "That's our shuttle. Come on. Lulu, up."

Lulu jumped and settled on Loki's shoulder and the camera caught a full grin on your lips.

You: *smirk* And he was the one who didn't want me to take Lulu from the desert *tilt your head* you know what... he is exactly like a choco lava cake. Sturdy looking outside but soft, mushy and melting aaaaall on the inside *giggles*

 Loki: she was talking about me, wasn't she? *narrows eyes at the camera* What was she saying? Javi, tell me. Javi, we're good friends. Come on, Javi. You're stuck with me. Javi. Javi. Hey. I'm the only one who can get you out of this hell hole. Javi. *looks at Javi's figure walking away* Javi. Javi! Come on! Javi!!

The creature scanning your line seemed to come out of some American writer's stereotypical description of a green alien except for the part where her huge beady black eyes had slits, just like a cat. She was stoic as a feline too, going about her job without any emotion on her face. And when it came your turn to stand underneath the scanner, her ignorance of your greetings did not help your nerves.

"You are a...terran," she stated more than she asked.

"Yes, ma'am." You blinked like a dumb animal and tried to remember to smile.

"Your business in the galaxy?" Her slow and positively raspy voice interrogated.

"Just travelling with my-" you blinked again while trying to innocently shrug with a hint of shy, looking like a questionable human-"boys. You know, sight seeing."

Those silver slits stared at you for solid five seconds, not even breathing apparently, before stamping a token and handing it to you and diverting her attention to the next passenger- Loki.

You and your bags moved to the other side of the scanner, waiting for Loki and Lulu while Javier made it next to you from the scanner next to yours. The creature looked at the information the scan brought on her screen in a language neither you nor the camera understood. But one thing that was catching the camera's focus was this text blinking in red next to Loki's picture.

"You are Loki," she stated to the God, scrutinising him from head to toe in those black scruffed jeans and t-shirt underneath a deep maroon long jacket.

"Hm," you forced out a light chuckle, "guess Tony and Clint are not the only ones who are weirded out by seeing him in anything other than his New York attire."

"Of Asgard," Loki added with an 'at your pleasure’ smirk.

"A Frost Giant," the lady acknowledged in her raspy voice. "Have you travelled to the Andromeda before?"

"I have, yes. But not in the recent years."

"State your purpose for the visit to the galaxy."

"I am-" he paused to throw a quick look in your direction before going back to his interrogator- "going there on some unfinished business with an old friend."

The lady, stoic like a rock, looked at Loki for the next ten seconds before pressing a button underneath her screen. Somewhere behind you, you and the camera could hear synchronised footsteps. The camera turned to catch seven aliens- five bulky, one bulkier than all the others, and the last one a leaner and less appeasing version of the lady- walk past you towards Loki.

Lulu, who could feel the change in the atmosphere around him, felt himself shifting on Loki's shoulders while his fur stood up like a frightened cat. But never once did that little fluffy boy leave Loki's side.

"Loki, of Asgard," the leaner one announced, "you are to come with us. Please carry your belongings with you. Please refrain from using any means to resist for you will be charged against the law of the peace fleet. Please put your hands forward so we may put diluters on your wri-I see you already have some version of them on your wrist. Very well. Please follow me."

The camera caught you, mouth gaping open and eyes out in refrained horror, looking at Loki while trying to keep your breaths as calm as possible.

"Oh fuck," your breaths forced out, "what the fuck is happening? Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-"

Loki was already moving behind the lean one, the parade of bulky Captain Gantu’s following him with their synchronised boot work. One of them looked down at the camera, sending a glare of yellow through those hollow eyes before turning back, entering what seemed like an elevator. Loki stood right in the middle, his eyes shifting from the lean alien to you for a few seconds before white doors closed and he disappeared from your view.

The camera now came back to your face, which was still staring in that direction, the colour from your skin a little faded, the pupils contracted to their limit, the breaths paused since God knows when. "Oh fuck we're gonna die."

.

There was a rhythmic pulse beating four times a second while the camera kept shifting- and vibrating a little- between two windows. Out of one window one could see those bulky dudes in attention standing at one door each, not shifting even a muscle while other aliens went about their business. The other window showed the lean guy standing with another alien that was bulkier in the middle. The lean one turned to the window at the rigorous tapping coming from the window.

"Calm down, Lulu," a soothing but tired voice came from out of the frame, making the little one turn towards Loki's figure sitting in what looked like a white chair beside an oval-shaped white table floating in the air, "they're not going to let us out. Not yet at least."

Lulu, who had paused to listen to the God suddenly found himself whimpering till its outright wails were catching everyone's attention outside the room.

"No, n-Lulu stop crying, Lu-" Loki got up from the chair and came to stand beside Lulu in two strides, picking the furry lump in both his hands while keeping his head away from those deafening wails. Slowly but surely, Loki brought the hysterical little lump to his chest, mostly to suppress the noise and wave uncomfortably at the judgmental eyes in his direction. At one point the fly camera-that had sneaked in with events yet unknown- caught an expression on Loki's face that reflected nothing but murder in his eyes. But the very next moment he sighed and brought his hands to stroke the frightened ball of fluff. "Hey, hey, hey," he shushed him, his hands being gentle and his expressions turning soft, "it's okay. It's completely fine. You're fine," he hummed, almost singing it while bouncing the little sobbing and hiccuping floof in his arms, "I'm in here too, aren't I? Right? You are not alone. You are not alone. We'll get out of here together as soon as we know who is behind all this mess, okay?"

The little furball sniffed and wiped his snot off on Loki's shirt. "You didn't have to do that," Loki pointed out with no real purpose to the already made mess. But Lulu was quiet now, possibly looking up at Loki and chirping something only the God understood and chuckled. "Yes-" he stroked Lulu's head- "she'll be fine without us. Once she stops panicking. Yes, yes, you're with me."

Lulu, chirped again, protruding his paw to carefully touch Loki's cheek and chirp some more. Whatever the little one had said, brought the God to a standstill, that tiny smile on his face frozen while his eyes seemed to have travelled somewhere far. "I wish that was true a few years in the past. How different some things would have been."

Lulu tilted his head in confusion while Loki seemed to be visiting certain memories that the camera on Lulu and others around them was not aware of. And all emotion in both these loveable creatures seemed to have been broken by a recognisable voice- so low and seemingly far away- somewhere in their vicinity. Lulu was the first to turn towards the window to the view of the lean guy, jumping at the sight.

And then Loki saw you standing right next to the alien who had arrested him, all colour from his face draining as he watched you flail your hands in some untethered rage right into the expressionless alien standing in front of you out of courtesy.

"Oh...oh no." Loki's face was completely opposite to whatever it is you were going through. Lulu was shifting his gaze between him and you, bouncing in Loki's arms with unadulterated joy. Javier was standing between the two of you with his camera- filming even in the midst of all the chaos.

Before he could compose himself, you were already walking towards him, the alien opening the door for you, letting you inside the room and closing it.

"Hey," your delighted and relieved face greeted Loki, "you guys okay?"

Lulu squirmed and chirped with joy, jumping straight into your arms to bonk his head with your face and rub himself all over you. Loki, on the other hand, stood there like he was seeing a ghost. "What are you doing here? You are not supposed to be here. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh neither did you, Loki," you were quick to point out.

Loki: *inhales* *put his palms together and brings them close to his face* *bends his hands towards the camera* Woman!

"You don't know what I or have not done so don't act like you know what you're doing, kitten," Loki pointed out rather harshly, forcing an offended gasp out of you, "you were supposed to be out there."

Your delight slowly seemed to be turning to an ember of rage. "Oh, I am sorry that tried to use my working brain to help you out in any way I can, your highness! If you wanted to spend more time in this weird jail you should have let me know when these big butts carried you off!"

"This does not concern you so stop," Loki did not let you finish. "Undo whatever it is you did. This is far more dangerous than you can stomach so off you go."

You scoffed and mocked him. "This is fir mir dingiris- well bad news it can't be undone because they think I'm your ride or die."

Loki was basically slapping himself on his face when trying to rub off the tension- along with his skin. "Wh-ha-hyy would they think that?! WHY?"

A whistle blew from behind the camera and Loki instantly caught it; along with catching your arms going across your chest while you tried to look anywhere but in the God's direction.

"Y/N," that soft but threatening growl was enough to crumble all the restraint you came undone faster than a horny teenage boy. "It's no big deal I just told them I'm your wife."

The camera timed the perfect zoom on that face that lost a couple of hundred years as it heard that sentence.

 On Earth

"It's no big deal I just told them I'm your wife."

A shrill 'Oh my Gaaaahd' left Scott's lungs while the soda bottle in his hand crushed and burst everywhere. A shriller wail left Peter as he threw his hands at his face in the utter disbelief and fell on the ground. A cushion blew up in the tight grasp of Bucky's hands, making feathers fly everywhere, and Sam stood up with one fist on his mouth and the other pointing at the screen, howling like a mad fan. Pepper watched with insane delight in her eyes while slapping the thighs next to hers that belonged to her husband who sat there looking at the screen with narrowed eyes as if he had seen something wrong- like a glitch maybe. Natasha was the only one maintaining her composure while sipping on her margarita and looking at the camera form under her lashes.

Scott & Peter: *do a whole routine with their hands in unison* I sayyyy Y/N and Loki sittin' in a tree!!! Fake M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E!!!!!

 Tony: *confused* Wife?

 Vision: I don't get why Scott and Peter are so excited. *looks to his right* Why are they...

*camera pans out to show Wanda barely containing her excitement in her pressed lips*

Wanda: beeeecause they might have a ship, Vis. *looks at the camera and smile a wide toothy smile*

Vision: *tilts his head* but there's no way they could ride a ship in this facility Wanda

 Tony: *still confused but in a different position* Wife??

 Steve: *blinks* I guess....that's a good...strategy? *frowns* I mean...sure. *hears a sniff from outside the frame*

*camera pans out to show stone-faced Bucky sitting next to him*

Bucky: *barely hides his breaking voice* Goo-*clears his throat*-good infiltration strategy.

Steve: *stares worriedly at him* You okay buddy?

Bucky: *crumbles* no~

 Tony: *lying flat on the sofa, face down* *raises his head* His wife??!!!

 Sam: *hollering* wife wife baby!! *turns to his side and nudges the person sitting next to him* come on get in on the fun!

Clint: *nearly saves his coffee pot from spilling all over him with Sam's nudge*

Sam: *keeps nudging and dancing in his seat* somebody's having some space fun!

Clint: *moves the pot into his other hand to drink it with hollow eyes looking at nothing, in particular,* somebody's gonna die of some fun

Sam: *all smiles for the camera* huh?

Clint: nothin' *looks at the camera zooming in on his stone face*

Tony: *wheeling out from under his car with tools in his hands* HIS WIFE??!!

Rhodey: *guffaws while clapping his hands over his head till he's wheezing* oh-oh my-oh Jesus! Poor Tony. *wipes the tears from his face* I told him karma is a bitch but I never thought it would come to bite him right in his ass!!! *continues to chortle*

Tony: *stops making his green smoothie to topple the jar into the sink and walk out of the screen screaming in groans* HIS WIFE?!! OH MY GOD!!!

 Space PD HQ

You haven't felt Loki breathing since you broke the news to him. He has just been standing there staring at you with faint confusion and curiosity, still as a statue.

"Loki-" you poke him- "Loki, say something! Don't just stand there like that! You're scaring me!"

"Y/N," he finally breathed out, his brows still creased, "do you know how many people I've killed?"

You shrugged. "I don't know? A couple? Do you know how many teenage girls I deceived when I was in high school?"

"How many?" He asks with keen interest before snapping himself back to reality. "Wait, what? No. Why would I need to know that?"

You shook your head casually while leaning on the floating table. "I don't know, I thought we were sharing our darkest numbers; like couples need to know these details. Right?"

"By the Norns," Loki groaned into his palms, rubbing his face hard. "Listen-"

The door hissed open and Mr Lean Alien walked in.

"Well, we haven't been introduced properly. My name is Tsuloche."

"Hi, Tsuloche. I'm Y/N," introduced yourself, closing the distance between you and Loki, your arms rubbing on each other.

"Listen, Tsulcohe, there has been a misunderstanding here. She-"

"Yeah, there's been a misunderstanding," your stressed and scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest, "like taking my husband prisoner for no reason at all?"

Tsuloche brought his nimble green- almost as thin and long as twigs- hands together. "Mrs....uhh...Miss Y/N, Loki has killed a lot of people in the past."

You groaned. "Now you sound just like my husband. I know he's killed a lot. And he's clearly suffering for it right now." You turned your head towards Loki, bringing your fingers to softly pinch his cheeks. "My poor baby."

Loki jerked away from your fingers slightly, whispering, "stop."

You didn't. Your fingers still reaching for those cheeks. "Stop it!"

You smiled as he grabbed your hand with his and held it in a good grip. "Okay, now you're just doing it to embarrass me in front of him."

Tsuloche tilted his head at this scene, blinking those translucent eyelids before his cat-like pupils dilated a little. "Do you know he supported Thanos' cause?"

You tried to yank your hand from his grip but Loki wasn't having it. So you turned back to Tsuloche. "Huh? Yeah, I know. He was undercover there to know his plans and stop him when the time came. What else you got?"

Tsuloche stood there blankly, shifting his gaze between you and the God for a good minute, his scarcely dilated pupils going back. "Why would you marry a criminal?! That too the one who tried to destroy your home?!"

You hummed and tried once again to slip your hands from Loki's death grip but failed- though that did not stir the seriousness away from your face at the alien's question. "Well, for the home invasion part, you'll understand if you ever had spiders, lizards and flies in your home."

Now, this confused the alien further but Loki forced out a laugh at your statement.

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Well, Tsuloche. The first time you see a spider or a lizard in your home, you scream and cry and want that monstrosity to be gone from your place. It's worse if they bring their friends over. At one point you form a plan of attack to get those sons of bitches out of your home because they don't pay the rent, do they? But it is later on that you realise that these spiders or lizards were actually what were keeping the flies away. You know, the flies that were contaminating your food and making you sick. The flies that were bringing disease from all corners. The only thing standing between you and death by flies was this one stubborn spider-" you squished Loki's face with your free hand, making him jerk and grab that other hand too- "who nearly killed all my people but didn't."

"As for the getting married part, Tsuloche, if you're married, you know very well the crimes you forgive when you love someone. I mean, have you seen this guy do anything bad since the War? No. That's 'cause he's been enjoying some downtime with me and my fam, getting to know me, marrying me, and now taking me and our little cuddly alien cat on a honeymoon! Ain't that right Lulu?!"

Lulu chirped.

By now those judgmental pupils were a full-blown dilated dorks looking at the two of you.

"Oh and that guy recording us outside is...is...our...videographer. Yes! That's who he is. There's a whole trend on Earth to put your life on the internet and stuff like that. So, he's here to...record everything we do on our honeymoon. Not everything, of course," you concluded a little loud with pressed lips and a nod as you realised the mistake.

"Nice save, dear," Loki chirped with a smirk.

"Shut up."

Those blown out pupils came back to disclose any emotions that last bit might have given away. Tsuloche cleared his throat. "Well, as...good as it all sounds, I am afraid I cannot let the Silvertongue go."

"Silvertongue?" you mentioned under your breath and looked at Loki's lips in amusement.

Loki caught your eyes darting to his tongue wetting his lips, sighing in a faint sense of defeat. "You know it's not silver. Why are you even looking at me like that?"

The camera caught your brow arch with some suggestions best kept to yourself. "Oh. I know," you sang, still looking at those lips, "I was wondering about what all would be...different if it were."

Wanda: *sits wide-eyed and flushed red* Uhh *clears throat* *presses her lips to suppress her smile* *talks softly with a shakey voice* I don't know what *puts one leg over another* *adjusts herself in the seat* what she meant by cat-that! What she meant by that. *turns red*

Loki just furrowed his brows at you uncomfortably before turning back to Tsuloche.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere without my husband, so..." You sat down on the lone chair in the room.

Tsuloche was already composing his wrinkled raisin face. "Very well then. I hope you find this interrogation room to your liking, Miss Y/N because he is not walking out of here for another seventy-two hours-"

The door hissed open to let in one of his subordinates who handed the alien a tiny cuboid-shaped device. One look at the tiny thing and Tsuloche looked back up with his sharp pupils dilating to the max. "Mrs and Mr Loki, you are free to go. The inconvenience is regretted and the department will provide you safe passage on the next shuttle to your destination."

A little surprised by the sudden turn of events neither of you wanted to let go of this opportunity. "And by our destination you mean anywhere we want?" You are eager to know; something that makes Loki's eyes turn to you and carry an expression barely recognisable on that perfect pale face. Some would even say it was a butt-hurt disappointment. 

"Destination means the place you were previously travelling to. Your bags have been transported. Now all you need to do is get on it and enjoy the rest of your honeymoon."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Loki let go of your hands but still smacked away the one coming for his cheek again, making you chuckle. "I have very limited knowledge on the feline species but it almost looks like you're happy to set us free, Tsuloche." Loki quirked his brow in agreement with your statement.

"What?!" Tsuloche was a little taken aback, continuously blinking his translucent eyelids to make those starry eyes contract to their predator like gaze. But he couldn't. "Highly mistaken you are, madam. I am definitely not happy to let you resume your honeymoon with your beloved. I am enraged that you will be going away with a criminal and your monstrous little pet somewhere to spend time together. I am-I am definitely offended by the idea of this hardened criminal getting a second chance at life with someone so beautiful as you!"

You squeaked. "Aw! He thinks I'm beautiful!" Loki rolled his eyes and looked at the camera.

Tsuloche: *highly conscious* you want me to say something in that camera? Is this for their honeymoon album? *Eyes dilate* oooh! *looks at the lens* uhh ahem, do not do anything unlawful you two. Space is a dangerous place. And...and *eyes dilate to their maximum capacity* take care. *Exhales* *wipes something off his face* oh dear! That was really hard.

 Space Shuttle

The entire shuttle was empty save for your little group. The seats were comfortable and the legroom quite spacious. Securing Lulu in a seat by the window, you sat down next to him, directly facing Loki. Javier sat next to him, recording the view out of the window.

“So, you sent in one of Javi’s camera flies, found a set of rules that said spouses are allowed to meet their other half and just...went with it?”

“I also used the uninet- the universal network- to find out about Tsuloche’s species and intimidated him with a little show of power. So, yeah. I read the rules of Space and this is the second time I saved your ass, Silvertongue," you state matter-of-factly, stretching your legs as much as possible.

"Don't get so cocky, kitten," Loki purred, fastening his seatbelt, "we still have a lot of places to go. You are lucky some people like your cute face."

Your brows went up and head tilted before Loki realised what he had done. "Aw! You think I'm cute!"

Lulu's camera caught Javier signing something to the two of you. "Keep having such petty arguments and aliens will actually believe you're married," you spoke his words out loud.

Both you and Loki looked at each other. "Married? To him?"

"Married? To her?"

The unison was too much on point. But the cackle eroding into the space out of the two of you made it better.

"You're funny," Loki chortled in Javi's direction.

"In your dreams, weirdo," you added. "Can you imagine? Mr and Mrs Silvertongue?" The laughs came out again while it was Javi's turn to look at Lulu's camera.

 Avengers Facility

"No, Nat, I don't think he'll go that way. He doesn't belong there, like, mentally speaking," Scott gesticulated with a lot of hand movements.

"I think Scott's right," Wanda added.

"No, come on. He knows it's his birthright. So that would be the most obvious thing to go for. And we know he wasn't really seen as much once all hell broke loose back home, right?" Nat put forward her point of view while sitting on the sofa in her jammies.

"But if it wasn't that way then?" Pietro asked with keen interest. Nat thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

"Then it definitely would have been the latter. I mean, you were practically raised as one. He was raised as one, right?" Bucky asked Steve. The latter nodded.

"But still," Steve contributed, " there was something wrong there, right? Which is why all of those incidents happened. Are we sure he would still go for it even if he wasn't just another kid?"

Now the lounge went silent, thinking all of it through while the camera showed a very disinterested Clint sitting on the dining table to clean his guns, bows and arrows. The expression in his eyes felt like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

The camera swerved to another person standing by the lounge entrance, looking at the whole scene with utmost disorientation. "What's going on?"

Everyone looked up at Tony standing at the door.

"Oh, we were discussing what surname would Loki choose if he and Y/N got married?" Nat casually answered.

"Like, would he go for Loki Odinson or Loki Laufeyson," Peter explained.

The camera zoomed in on Tony's face, which was trying to do it's best to understand what was going on before giving up and just tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at everybody.

"They have been at it for two hours," a defeated voice comes from Clint's corner, who was looking at some distant void while cleaning his weapons.

"This...is a hypothetical situation, right?" Tony made sure. He had to make sure.

It took a second before everyone shrugged, nodded and hummed in agreement. None- except one camera- caught Scott and Peter crossed his fingers behind their back.

"Oh my God, I just got it!" Scott exclaimed out of nowhere with a new realisation on his face. "He doesn't have to think about the surname. It's Y/N who'll be making the choice."

And just like that, the seriousness in the air changed into a shared epiphany and everyone agreed without any vote against that thought.

"You guys are having a lot of fun with this," Tony sang sarcastically with judgement filled in his tone.

"Yeah, what about it?" Pepper called out from her comfy armchair while eating cheeseburgers and sipping soda, looking at Tony for an answer.

Tony, on the other hand, shifted his weight between his legs. "No. Nothing. You have fun, sweetie. Kisses! Muah! Muah! Muah! Please don't kill me in my sleep tonight."

[kinkylittlebastardsuniverse]

dental anxiety.

warnings! good old nsfw; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids); oral sex (female receiving); bit of swearing as always; doc kink!; kind of a cheating kink kind of cenario as well (?) sorry if it was too far away from the original proposal; roleplay; myself fangirling over loki is a warning?

so, yes, you need to be over 18 to be reading this so everybody can go home safe. consider yourself warned.

words! a lot. but let’s say a 5727 for whoever is interested.

this is a fem!reader x loki and it’s based on this lovely anon request. 

hope you all like it!

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It’s not that you hated dentists. You thought they were very important professionals, their work mattered and all. You just weren't very fond of the idea of being their working material.

Unfortunately for you,  it's been a week or so that  your wisdom tooth was hurting like a bullet hole. And, again, it's not like you were a crybaby or anything like that. But, let's be serious, toothache just sucks. Full stop. 

So, against all your will, your body's biology won and you ended up making an appointment with your long-time-no-seen dentist. For today. And you were hella nervous.

No. You were terrified. 

Ok, you were an Avenger. And ok, you fought monsters and aliens and bad guys etcetera, etcetera. But you we still afraid of dentists. An you didn't like being judged because of this. 

Was it dumb? Maybe. Would you stop being afraid because of that? No. 

So that's why you told none about your little... hesitation on going to the dentist. And that's also why you have been so nervous about something the whole Tower couldn't even guess about. The whole Tower, except for Loki.

Afterall, how could you have been so fool to think you could actually hide something from the God of mischief in his whole glory?

"You've been behaving strange lately, love." Your long term boyfriend, Loki, asked in a sober tone while you were getting ready to go and meet him. Dr. Finnegan, your worst nightmare and former dentist. 

Yeah, you should have seen that coming. 

You froze in your spot, pondering wich would be the less ridiculous way to tell your boyfriend, an actual God, that you were going to face your worst fear exactly 40 minutes from now. 

"Oh. Have I?" Was the best your poor brain could manage to voice out at the moment. And, yes, it wasn't as good as you wanted it to be.

Loki frowned his browns, just like a parent who got his child in the middle of a lie. A hesitant "yes" came out from his lips and you knew you weren't leaving this room without telling him the truth.

At that moment - while you wondered which would be your destiny in this cruel full-of-dentists world - your tooth made the favor of bringing you the sharpest pain you have ever felt in your whole life. Ok, that was hyperbole. But it was a very sharp pain that made you wrinkle your face in disgust. Why, God?

Your dominant hand naturally went up to your sore cheek, trying instinctively to dim the miserable pain that damn wisdom tooth was causing you. Hell, how it hurts. Loki looked puzzled by your expression, a trace of concern ran into his gaze, even though his frame hadn't moved a muscle to touch you.

"You are in pain." He said, his voice making it sound more like a question. He tilted his head a bit to the right and frown his big blue eyes, the action making he look more like a concerned puppy then an all powerful, norse God. 

But that action of his passed unnoticed through you, since you couldn't find the place on your soul to admire his beauty self right now, thanks to that damn tooth. And, between the almost unbearable pain in your mouth and the angry with yourself for letting the situation become this serious, you scoffed at his comment, even though you wouldn't mocke his worry about you on your normal state. 

"Yes, Loki. I am in pain. Thank you for noticing." Another hiss and you wondered if it would be that bad for you to just rip out that tooth right at that instant.

Loki lock his jawn, clearly not enjoying your behave. But he let it go, 'cause he knew you had an very thin pain limit, even though you didn't like to admit it, being an Avenger and stubborn as Hell. So he dressed an assuring smile instead and walk into your direction, ready to help whatever he could. 

You were still with your eyes closed, your main hand resting softly on your cheek. You were still locked up on the thought of taking of the tooth yourself or not; all not to go to the dentist. You didn't notice your boyfriend's approach until his own cold, enormous hand rested just above yours, the affection of the gesture making you open your eyes suddenly.

Icy-blue eyes meet yours and you felt a hint of shame kick on your stomach for being unnecessarily rasp with him. Afterall, he just wanted you to feel good. It wasn't his fault you were in pain - both from the tooth and for having to visit the dentist. Your features softened on his touch, making you instantly lean on his hand, crazy for some coolness on your wisdom tooth.

"Sorry." You shyly said, hoping he would get you were moody at the time you scoffed him. Loki obviously knew that already, since he made his personal job to know you like the palm of his hand, you yourself making his job very difficult as you always seemed to surprise him someway. It fascinated him, to be honest.

"It just hurts so much." You meowed, your soft, delicious lips forming an stubborn pout, inviting him in. But he focused on helping you, his love, to get over your pain. Other matters could wait a little bit. 

"Are you going to the see a doctor?" He simply asked, his gaze running away from your adorable pout to look into your eyes.

You froze. Your stomach got sick and you could feel the color running out of your face while the coldest of the goosebumps ran down your spine, like iron claws ripping your back's flesh. 'Cause being with Loki made you forget your appointment with the Devil was getting closer and closer. You gulped, knowing he noticed your change of behave and that he would demand an explanation from you. Ugh.

"What's wrong, love?" His tone was so soft you could almost feel it caressing your skin. You sighed, because with that loving tone of his there was no way you could possibly lie to him. And he knew that. That bastard.

One deep breath and

"Iamafraidofdentists."

Quick as a child taking off a bandage so it wouldn't hurt that much, you let go of your "secret" and could already feel the red on your cheeks. Because something inside you insisted that being afraid of dentists was ridiculous. But you still feared them. The icy office, the falsely comfortable chair, the drills and injections and utensils used inside your mouth, where you couldn't see what the dentist was doing ... All of this has always frightened you since childhood. But, now you were a grown woman. An Avenger, loved and hated by many. Being afraid of dentists bordered on the ridiculous comic, you thought. And you feared Loki would think the same.

"I beg your pardon?" He asked, his hand still caressing your sore skin.

You took another deep breath, physically aching for having to say that outloud again.

"I. Am. Afraid. Of. Dentists."

And now it's done. 

"Oh." That was what leaved Loki's lips before he laughed softly, making you feel both ashamed and angry. Mix the toothache on that recipe and ta-dan: you wanted to both cry and punch him on the face.

"I know it's dumb but there's no need to mock me while I'm in pain." You voiced while you body retracted itself from his touch, denying his proximity. You felt more than embarrassed. You just told him something that, despite it's "childish" content, hurted you. It haunted you during your whole life. And you had expected him to at least respect that. 

His eyes widened at your acid comment, almost as if he had just realized that his reaction bothered you. And Loki couldn't stand the thought of hurting you.

"No no no." He hurried to say, the words coming out of his mouth like bullets from a 38. "I do not think it's dumb, alright love?" He hesitantly tried to put his cold hand back on your cheek. And you allowed him, your eyes narrowed in curiosity as to what he was going to say next.

"I would never think such a poor thing about you, my darling. Never." Despite his cold body, his words sounded warm and his smile hit you brighter than the Sun. 

"I just think it's odd that you kept that part of you from me, my love." His thumb began to wander over your skin, letting the electricity of his proximity invade your body.

"Because it's childish and dumb." You bluntly said, your eyes closing and your face leaning on his touch once more.

"I would say it's quite fascinating, actually." His voice was addicting to you, filling the room and bringing you to him. Always to him. "Afterall, it’s been a while now. But I still have so much to learn about you, you little puzzle." You could taste the sweetness on his voice and you started to wonder - something you have came to do along your relationship with the God - how could this men, the men that "almost destroyed New York city once" (fuck you, Thanos), could be this caressing and gentle once you have the chance to meet him for real?

"Besides," his voice cut through your thoughts and made you open your eyes, just to find his own already looking deep into you. "You're dating the God of mischief, dear. A master of the magic arts."

The smug smirk on his pinky lips made you inevitably roll your eyes. How could he go from something so lovely to something so cocky? You would never know.

"I could just" 

Pause.

"make the pain go away."

And you didn't know if it was because he said it through heavy lids, staring at your lips; or if it was the tone he used - low, pausadly, almost like torture; or if it was the very words he used, selected in such a way that you could say that his offer was genuine and perhaps innocent, but it aroused something in you that was far from innocent.

You swallowed hard, your anxious eyes roaming over your boyfriend's body as if they could devour him. The white, plain shirt he wore did nothing to calm your unclean thoughts, and inevitably the image of Loki in a lab coat fucking you from behind as your body leaned over his med-office table flowed into your mind almost as if it had already happened. And, God, how you wished it had.

You thought of him examining you as you sat on the stretcher, his icy hands running all over your eager body in a professional yet so sexual way you would be confused if he desired you or not. And then he would fuck you. Hard. In a way you had never been fucked before. And Dr. Loki would talk about your husband or boyfriend, telling you how they weren't paying you the attention you deserved and how good him - and only him - would make you feel. And you would cum on his cock again and again to a scream of his name and...

"Would you like that?"

Oh, you would.

"Sorry?" You replied almost instantly with a tremble tone, thanks to your away too fertile imagination. You were so lost on your unholy mind that you forgot he had actually talked to you and that he obvious expected an answer.

"The toothache. Would you like me to help with that?" Sure, the toothache. You almost forgot about it. And, now that he mentioned, it started to annoy you, again.

"Sure." The words slipped through your lips almost immediately, not giving you a chance to rethink your sentence. Your voice was weak, too weak, and you didn't need a mirror to know your cheeks were on fire not because of the cellular activity around your wisdom tooth.

Loki smirked cheaply before guiding your lazy body to the desk on his left. Your mind was still numb from your exciting brain activity from only seconds ago and you honestly weren't giving a shit about your pain anymore. There was only him. Him, Loki, and his slim figure and sinful lips and silver tongue. Him and his cold touches, slender fingers and that damn white shirt that you wanted so bad to rip from his torso.

The brunette effortless lifted you, making you sit on the desk as he slightly opened your legs, his cold skin never really touching yours. He positioned himself among them, keeping his distance from your core which made you swear under your breath. Because he was so fucking close; but not close enough. He kept one of his strong hands on your thigh and the other came slowly to your lower back, cheaply touching the place as a warn for you to stretch your back. You did, silently hoping for him to touch you more properly now.

You sigh, a tiny attempt to contain the arousal between your legs, and you couldn't decide if you wanted Loki to notice your present state or if you feared that he might find the reason behind your horny inappropriate. But let's face it, we're talking about Loki. He would be more than pleased to grant your wishes, whatever they were. You were his queen afterall.

But you seemed to ignore that fact as you tried desperately not to show how excited you were about his proposal to examine you.

Meanwhile, his hand was still firmly on her leg, close to the knee, making timid circles over the jeans that covered your hot skin. The other hand, the one on that was on your lower back, migrated sinuously to your face. Loki's eyes were serious, focused as he examined your jaw, touching where your sore wisdom should be with the most delicately of the touches, almost as if he could break you.

You swallowed again, his icy touch was away too soft in your opinion.

"So Ms. (y / l / n), tell me about your complaints." He said in a sober, clinical voice. Slowly and professional. And you couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious. You also didn't know which of the options sounded most disturbing to you. Or more exciting.

You felt a puddle form between your legs, because his eyes weren't meeting your confused ones while he was so damn focused on your jawn, as if it really was his damn job.

What was him up to?

He pressed some point a little too hard and you hissed, his hand getting away from your face instantly.

"Does it hurt here?" He asked; his tone still sober but a glint of concern shone on his beautiful face.

And you couldn't pinpoint the exact reason, but you decided to give it a shot.

"Yes, Doc. It hurts so bad."

It sounded more like a plead than anything else. And you knew it would kill him inside not to touch you after that.

"I see..." He managed to remain stern but you could spot the sweet glint of lux on his eyes. His voice was husk, even though the professional tone was still there. But you knew that look on his eyes. He was scheming. And you loved that.

"May you take your shirt off, Miss?" The "miss" sounded so divine coming out of his lips, humming to your ears as pure pleasure while his accent fitted into the word's corners just right.

"Yes, Doctor." You meowned for him, using your softest tone as your body automatically obeyed him, undressing yourself away too happily right in front of the man.

Soon enough you were shirtless, your breasts proudly hanging out on the cool air. You could feel your nipples harden dull to the cold and your pussy ache through the sensation.

Loki fixed his piercing gaze on your face, his eyes narrowed in pure concentration as he seemed to exam you, apparently not giving  a fucking fuck you were almost naked in front of him. You almost mop at this, craving his precisely cirurgical touch on your needy skin. Craving his lips, his hands, his cock. But, most of all, craving his attention.

Loki's hands traveled to the side of your breasts, lightly touching the sensitive skin in such a poor way that it almost forced you to beg for more. His fingers were cold as winter and sent a delicious shiver down your spine, making your whole body crawl with the sensation. You knew he had noticed.

Loki moved his shy touch to your neck, lightly touching the place. It seemed innocent indeed, but the presence of those huge hands of his on the delicate skin of your neck made you think of the most sinful things. Like the image of him, Dr. Loki, fucking you on the stretcher, your legs unbelievably open for him while he choked you, pounding on you until the only thing you could manage to say was his name.

Loki. Loki. Loki.

You shivered at your own ideas, closing your eyes quickly, gently, as his touch continued to roam around your neck and bust. The chills wouldn't stop and he applied the softest of pressures to your throat, making you almost moan. No, you moaned. It was low and soft, but it was still there. It was a moan. And, by his proximity, there was no way he had not heard that.

You swore silently, opening your eyes slowly to find his cold, malicious ones already staring at you, predicting your movements. His thumbs were still on your throat, pondering what to do with your vulnerable body, so merciful to him.

A puddle intensified between your eager legs, boldly showing how much your poor body wanted him. It was almost like it was showing off to him. So he could see (and feel) how much you craved him. Needed him. Deeply, madly.

“You know, Miss, I have a suspicion of what your problem may be, but I need to do a little more… complete examination. Just to be sure. ” His voice was sweet as honey, but you could feel the danger hovering behind his words. You couldn't help but associate him with a predator deceiving his prey, attracting it to its own perdition. And something about the way he said it pleasured all of your soul, making it hard to suppress the proud little moan that wanted to escape from your lips.

You were too caught up in the pleasure his voice alone caused you to realize when he began to remove his hands from your neck. Only when the cold of his absence hit you did you notice his touch moving. You almost protested. Almost. For Loki's divine touch began to walk down your body, down your bust and dancing softly at your waist, playing with the warm skin of your body as if it were the most interesting of toys. And, honestly, you kind of felt like a doll on his arms: completely at his mercy, doing as he pleased.

Loki played your body like a musician played a violin, always getting the right notes. And you had no choice but to melt in his arms. It wasn't the worst of dead ends though. You loved every moment of it.

‘Cause being his was a sensation you could never get enough from.

“If you will allow me” his voice sounded dominant in the environment, taking over not only your hearing but all your other senses. Overwhelming you like the addictive drug he was. That was his effect on you. Always. "I can help you."

Inevitably, you bit your lower lip, not being able to control the intensity of your own thoughts as your fertile mind wondered about the ways he could help you. There were so many.

You didn't notice, but you tilted your head back slightly, a gesture so subtle but so full of pleasure that it couldn't escape Loki's hawk gaze. Your eyes closed on a delirium of pleasure, just with the image on your head of Loki eating you out, his black curls lost in the middle of your legs. It was almost too divine to be so sinful.

"Your problem, Miss." Loki thought now was a good time to speak up, just to make sure you wouldn't come just with your imagination and without his permission. “Is quite particular, almost… singular.” He continued, his mischievous hands cutting across the skin of your belly, heading toward your eager core. And you didn't want - or couldn't - contain the sigh that escaped between your lips. A gesture that, unconscious or not, gave Loki the approval he wanted.

“They haven't been fucking right, have they, Miss?” He asked almost politely, what was an absurd contrast to the content of his words, so deliciously filthy. You understood that he meant someone, but the only person in your head now was Loki. No one else existed, no one else mattered.

You moaned in response, too caught up in his voice and the suggestiveness of his words to formulate a minimally coherent sentence.

It has been a long time since you moved to a more stripped down position. Your arms were behind your body, supporting the weight of your torso as your hips were more straight forward, your legs wider for him to fit.

“And you are craving to be fucked hard, aren't you? Such a nasty little thing. ”He spoke closer to your ear this time. You felt when his body leaned in, getting closer to yours. But you were too caught in the feeling of his proximity to predict his dirty talking. His warm breath danced on your earlobe and you inevitably threw your head back wildly, giving him room to act.

You felt it as his icy touch descended lower and lower, reaching the middle of your legs and you moaned at the shallow contact because you wanted more. And he pressed the region in response, because he could give you more.

“Tell me, Miss. Tell your Doc if it hurts here. ”He asked, his voice more embarrassed and clearly covered with lust. You could come right there with just that. But you wished beyond those poor touches.

“Yes, Doctor. Yes, it hurts so bad. Please make it go away. ” You half pleaded, half moaned loudly, letting yourself go. Losing yourself to his touches.

“I'm afraid my suspicions were right then, Miss. Such a needy little slut like you can't stand being fucked cheaply, huh? ” His tone was acid even though he kept it low. As if he was mocking you and your needy, vulnerable estate. Too bad you desired him too much to care about it. 

So you just nodded with your head. It was eager and fast, showing just how much you needed him to act. But Loki was a patient man and he knew it would be just so much better if you played along. Pluss, it's not like he didn't love to hear you beg. The soft little sounds he could (would) take from you were just heavenly. He would never get tired of them.

“Use you big girl voice, Miss.” He demanded as the grip on your clothed pussy tighten.

“Yes, Doc! Yes! Please help me! ” You almost screamed, your voice coming out so desperately you feared for a moment that the door might be open and that someone might come in. But as fast as it came, it went away and all you could think were Loki's fingers so close to your pussy while his husky voice drowned your ears.

“Oh, I will help you, sweet thing. I will fuck you so good you are not going to let anyone else fuck you. Ever.” He said through his teeth and you almost felt a twinge of anger there. As if the mere possibility of someone else bringing you pleasure made his blood boil. And his bossy, possessive attitude made you moan as you eagerly thought about how hard he was about to fuck you.

He walked away and you almost cried at his absence. Until you felt the jeans being torn from your skin and you chose to worry about the integrity of your clothes later. On the contrary, you let out an approval meow that sounded almost animalistic, to your surprise. Like a cat in heat and you've never been so wet.

Loki grunted in response, turned on by the sounds he was taking from your body. His hand went to your panties, breaking the material like it was nothing. Soon you were fully exposed to him who, on the oposity, remained clothed.

Loki knelt in front of you before you could find words to complain about the excess of clothes that covered the God's body. His icy-blue eyes remained glued to yours and no words were spoken as he slowly lowered himself in front of you, placing your legs over his broad shoulders as if you were - again - a doll.

Soon enough, his knees found the ground and you were wild open in front of his head, inevitably feeling his hot breath on your core as you anxiously predict the contact that was about to come. And there was your pussy covered in your arousal, glowing with pride through the room's light while the God's eyes did nothing but observe it, entranced.

Then he gave an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thighs, his eyes leaving you momentarily. You moaned, not allowing your gaze to deviate from the God lost in the middle of your thighs. His gaze returned to yours as he decided to give your pussy a long, firm lick and you swore your whole body screamed with pleasure.

A loud, pornographic moan left your lips as your face twisted with pleasure. Your eyes stayed open as Loki's closed, observing the pleasant expression he made as he tasted you. So sweet. It was when he groaned against your intimacy that you were forced to throw your head back, closing your eyes, delirious with pleasure.

Loki quickened his pace, eating you faster as loud moans and curses left your heavenly lips. It was such a sight.

One finger came inside you and you almost screamed. One more and his name left your mouth like a pray. 

His lips left your cunt to attack your mouth and you moaned as your taste came strong on your tongue while his slender fingers kept fucking you merciless. You felt your nipples burning through the rough material of his shirt and something about him being full clothed and you being all naked made you feel exposed; and vulnerable; and hot inside, as if you were about to cum. 

And you were. The knot on your lower belly was unmistakable and you suddenly felt like fireworks were exploding through your whole body.

You didn't have to warn him or ask him twice.

Loki fixed the pace, hitting all the right buttons for you to come. You felt your inner folds squeeze his fingers and the weight of his gaze on your face as you did so. Your vision became white and the all colorful and the pleasure was so much for you to handle.

God, you never came this hard.

His fingers left you and you couldn't contain the bitter feeling of emptiness that gesture brought. But Loki put a hand on your hip and you knew you would be full again soon. The other one, which was deep in your pussy just a few moments ago, he took to your lips and you sucked them, gladly obeying him. Your mischievous tongue roamed the length of his finger, sucking on every trace of you that might have been left there.

"Good girl." He proudly said, unzipping his pants and you couldn't be happier. "Obeying all Doctor's orders so well." And now he was taking his shirt off, exposing his beautiful chest for your hungry hands.

He tossed his clothes somewhere unknown to you and you both stand in front of each other fully naked. And there was something just... magical about him that made you sigh in anticipation for what was about to come (you, you hoped).

"As to help you with your little... struggle." His tone was cocky and full of himself, it should have pissed you off but it turns out you were only getting wetter. "I will recommend..." He stopped, wondering to himself what to do with you. "Three more orgasms." Your doe-eyes widened. You just came from the strongest orgasm from your whole life and he wanted three more? 

"Can you handle that, Miss?" But his voice was so demanding that you nodded eagerly, curiosity and luxury taking over your poor, needy body. 

He smiled proudly and left a sweet kiss on your lips, not taking too long in the almost innocent gesture. Without another word, he entered you like a person enters home: fast, anxious but enjoying every moment.

His cock was big and it tore your pussy apart, causing an animalistic moan - of pain and pleasure - to escape from your mouth before you even thought twice. Your legs instinctively climbed up, tying at his waist to receive him more properly. Your hands went to the God's broad shoulders, helping him pound on you more firmly.

His pace was unbelievable quick, making your breasts bounce at each thrust. And you were a moaning mess. 'Cause it didn't take him long to find the angle where he could hit your sweet spot. And he kept hitting it until it was unbearable for you to resist and you came without a warning, a crying of his name leaving your lips as an apology for not telling him you were about to come.

He grasped your chin firmly and forced his lips against yours. After the kiss, he stared at you with narrowed eyes and black irises, silently telling you that you would pay for it.

And he roughly laid you on the stretcher. You didn't resist and let him do it. Your legs were high at his waist, the new angle allowing new points to be reached in your pussy. And you moaned (screamed), because he wouldn't stop and you were just so sensitive.

Is this a good moment to say that you never understood the concept of multiple orgasms until you meet Loki?

'Cause he kept pounding on you with such an inhuman strength that you could feel the shape of the bruises that were forming on your skin. Bruises that held his sign, his mark all around your body.

"You may come now, sweet thing." He demanded after some more firm thrusts and you didn't knew if it was his magic or that your body was really that loyal to him to just cum at his command, but you did. Hard. Harder than the other two previous times and you couldn't process anything else but his cock deep in your pussy, fucking you into a total blackout.

How could you handle one more?

But you handled. 'Cause Loki turned you around, putting your beautiful ass on the air and fucked you from behind just like you imagined. His hungry hand came to meet your swollen clit and your screamed his name cause that was just too much.

"C'mon, sweet thing. One more, you can give me that, can't you?" He whispered on your ear, biting the soft flesh of your neck right after and you nodded. Because you wanted to give it to him.

Your pussy was sore and you could feel it. His cock kept pounding on you so hard your feet left the ground, his strength and the stretcher being your only real support right now. And there was his hand on your clit and his dirty words on your ears and his lips on your neck; and then there was the stretcher and that damn white shirt of his somewhere in the room and you couldn't remember how it had came to this point. And then

SMACK

He spanked you. Again. And again. It burned and you could feel the shape of his hand red and sore on your skin. And you came one last time to a scream of his beautiful name. 

Your vision became white, and all colorful right after, so you missed the way he also came moaning your name, spilling his white loads deep inside you.

Your body wavered and you lurched forward, falling into the stretcher, too busy enjoying your orgasm to care. Loki did nothing but admire the mess he had made of you. Your legs were slightly parted, your butt up in the air as his cum dripped from your pussy. 

There was a beauty in that which Loki could not decipher. Something raw and animalistic; but also loving and worshiping. Something deep and worth fighting for. That made sense, afterall. That's exactly how he felt about you. So he just just smiled, stroked your ass and placed a soft kiss on the skin of your shoulder blades, helping you to get up right then.

"Love? I think a bath would be good for you now." He spoke, his voice sweet and concerned that he may have gone too far with you this time.

And you, in all your glory, naked and fucked up, didn't want him to feel that way. Then you smiled. It was a weak, half-tired smile (from someone who had just come four times in a row). But that said something between "I love you" or "It was amazing," things like that, that you notice in a look or a way of speaking.

So you pecked his lips and joked

"Doctor's orders?"

He laughed, a happy - and somehow - relieved laugh. You were simply unbelievable.

"Yes. How is the tooth?"

You frowned.

"What tooth?" And then it hit you.

Shit. You missed the appointment with Dr. Finnegan.

But it wasn't like you felt you needed to go to the dentist anymore. The pain was gone.

Like magic.

Loki laughed at your half-desperate, half-angry state and let out a

"Lucky for you that your boyfriend can be an amazing doctor and solved your problem before you even knew it."

You couldn't argue with that. He really was an amazing doctor.

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

you have no idea how happy I am to be posting this imagine rn! i just worked so hard on this! i sincerely hope you enjoyed it. i know i am very happy with the outcome.

oh, and to the lovely person who asked me to write this: i hope it was as you imagined. let me know.

thank you all for your lovely attention.

[malcolmwhitly-bright]

Malcolmnapped

@shut-up-im-jay... I love you too ;) 

“What,” JT mumbles upon seeing Malcolm has arrived for the day,” no therapy suckers?” JT frowns into his coffee, obscuring his face from Malcolm’s view. Something he does frequently, Malcolm’s come to understand it’s protective. JT doesn’t mean to alienate Malcolm so much as keep him at bay. Remove certain things from Malcolm’s ‘mind-reading’ eyes. “It’s Thursday, isn’t?” There is a hint of worry. The implication that if Malcolm doesn’t have suckers then he hasn’t gone to therapy. Fear… strange enough, JT has a small amount of fear for Malcolm. He hopes there’s another explanation. 

Malcolm nods him an affirmation, pressing a sucker into JT’s hand. Even offering a small explanation,” I accidentally grabbed two cherries.” As a means of clearing up why JT has a red-covered sucker instead of his usual. Not that flavors matter while JT’s brain is trying to cover and distort his concern. Luckily, Malcolm doesn’t think much of the weird glances from JT anymore.

He’s in content and safe with them. Until he’s not.

“You good?”

Malcolm schools his features, smiling as his left-hand cramps painfully around the strangely conducted letter he has just found on his desk. ‘To my greatest love’ it was dedicated. The words strangely loving but his name was attached at the bottom, ‘I love you, my dearest Malcolm’. “Me?” He shoves the paper into one of the already too full drawers of his desk. He motions a waving motion,” always.”

Dani glances at JT but her old partner is already tucking himself behind his desk, unconcerned now that his suspicions have been disproven. The kids going to therapy, that’s good enough for him. Dani sees through Malcolm’s ploy, his voice too assured. “Right,” she clears her throat. “Gil wants us all in the conference room. Edrisa’s got something.”

They always come on Thursdays. It’s a pattern, one he can only suspect and roll over in his mind by himself. He doesn’t dare air it to the others. He can only imagine the soft, playful smile JT will give him. He’ll brush it off, tell him to turn that profiling brain off for a minute. Give it a rest. Dani will give him sad eyes but she’ll probably reassure him it’s probably nothing. 

And it probably is nothing so he brushes it off.

There are six half-ruined letters in his desk drawer when he starts to feel watched.

“What’re you looking for?” 

Malcolm flinches, so caught in his self made fear that he lost contact with his surroundings. “Uh,” he scratches his cheek, hair growing where he hasn’t shaved in several days. “Just thought I heard something,” he shrugs, a small smile forcing its way on to his cheeks. He glances behind himself again, forcing his eyes forward after to stop further worrying Dani or JT who have both noticed now his odd behavior. 

But he’s Malcolm and they’re always secretly worried.

“He’s late.”

Dani looks up from her work, looking at her dimmed computer screen. She can hear the clear distress in JT’s voice and she finds he’s right. “It’s only two,” Dani tries to reason,” he can still come in.” Except, they’ve got an active case and it’s Thursday which means Malcolm should have been in hours ago. She stands from her desk and JT is right behind her, both of them making their way to Gil.

“Hey-”

Gil is on the phone, mouth twisted into a frown. He hangs up,” that was Jessica.” He looks at the two of them and it becomes abundantly clear what they are barging into his office for. “No word from Bright?”

JT shakes his head,” radio silence since he left early yesterday.”

Gil runs a hand over his goatee, fingers trailing through the peppered hair. “That’s not good.”

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

He wakes up in the dark. 

He’s an adult so it would be safe to assume that is how he wakes up most nights. However, he learned years ago that having a nightlight may be childish but it’s also helpful. The complete lack of light is his first sign that something is not right.

The next is the way his mouth tastes, like drugs. He struggles to clear his throat, his throat raw.

A light overhead it suddenly clicked on, a woman descending stairs he wasn’t able to see in the dark.

“What did you give me?” Malcolm tries not to let his fear overpower his ability to think clearly. Fear, he’s starting to realize, isn’t his only danger. His arm throbs where she stuck the syringe in and his profiler brain concludes she isn’t a nurse but his civilian brain is freaking out. 

She smiles sweetly,” just something to calm you down.” She points to his hands, both trembling with the full effects of his nerves,” there’s no need for you to be so nervous, sweetheart. I love you. You’re safe.”

Malcolm squints in the low light, attempting to put a face to the woman. She looks vaguely familiar like someone he’s seen in the mall or at a shop. Obviously, he did something to attract her attention but he can’t think of a single thing he’s done to ‘wow’ anyone lately. Last week, he tripped and spilled tea on some poor barista. Two days ago he ran into a display at some store Ainsely pulled him through. 

“How,” Malcolm pauses to think about how he wants to word his question. “How did we meet?”

She smiles softly and Malcolm thanks his lucky stars that at least she’s not hostile. “The coffee shop, silly.” 

He didn’t spill the tea on her, that girl was brunette and short. So…

“I was behind you in line,” she is clearly waiting for him to connect the dots. Mercifully, she grins and retells the romantic adventure that brought them together. “I dropped my credit card and, you being such a gentleman, you picked it up for me.” She places a hand over her heart,” I just knew. You smiled at me and I knew you needed me to save you.” She motions around them,” so I did!”

“Right,” Malcolm agrees. “Can-Can you unlock me then?” Her immediate reaction sends a spike of fear down his chest. “I-I have sensitive skin,” he motions his head to the straps tightened just a little too tight. “It hurts.” 

She thinks for a moment but shakes her head. “I can’t trust you yet.” She winks playfully,” but don’t worry, my love. Our devotion to one another is strong, you’ll be out of those straps in no time.”

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

“Jesus.”

Dani keeps pulling out the letters. She’s not looking at the words, her eyes scanning through his desk drawers for all the letters addressed to ‘My Love’. By the time they have emptied his drawer, there’s a sizable pile on the top of the desk. Each one declaring this person’s undying love for Malcolm. 

They read through them, more or less able to put them in order. The first few are shy but the last ones are serious. The writer talks about ‘the curly-haired bitch’ Malcolm needs to be careful of. Warning him that ‘the bitch’ will break his heart and ruin his life. The writer escalates, threatening Gil, they call him ‘the goateed man’, and JT the ‘big idiot’. The writer offers to take care of Malcolm and through implication get rid of the others. 

“Leave it Bright to get a creepy potential killer stalker,” JT mumbles, flipping through the letters. 

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

He tries not to flinch each time she touches his arm. If he wants to get out of the restraints he needs to make her believe he trusts her. It’s hard. She touches him for generally no reason. She throws her head back when she laughs at a joke she’s told, hand running down his bicep. He can handle most of it but occasionally her hand brushes his jaw.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s trying hard to swallow his panic but after all this time he knows what his symptoms mean. Rather than pushing down his flinch, he pulls away from the hand she places on his knee. He wraps his body around himself as well as he can, counting in his head. 

“Malcolm?”

She’s genuinely worried, which is thoughtful but she’s to blame for his current anxiety attack. 

Tears squeeze out of the corner of his eyes, his chest impossibly tight.

“It’s okay.” There’s a sharp sting on his bicep and cool pain spreads in his veins. Drugs. “I know how to fix this.”

He blinks heavily, too familiar with the effects of sedatives for the ones she’s just used to work their full effect immediately. “You don’t love me,” he whispers. Her hand still drags down his jaw, gently lifting it so his eyes are forced to meet hers. “You don’t even know me.”

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

“It’s a phone number.”

Everyone glances up, Edrisa’s soft voice catching them off guard. She points to the digits they ruled out. They knew they weren’t for an address but they didn’t look like a phone number. There was no area code. There weren’t enough digits.

“It can’t be.”

Edrisa shakes her head and points to another letter, a single line. “No, it probably is. See?” She reads out a line vaguely referring to how the writer and Malcolm met. “They met in a shop, probably the one Malcolm goes to when he gets us coffee.” She pushes the paper across the table to Gil when he crooks a curious eyebrow. “So, she’s probably from the area, like Malcolm and us.”

JT shakes his head in disbelief,” you’re really on your A-game, aren’t you?”

Edrisa blushes,” I mean, I didn’t solve it. You still have to find him.”

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

Malcolm’s stomach cramps painfully. He isn’t hungry in the least but Becca, as he learned her name was, managed to force-feed him several spoon fulls of soup. Helpfully adding she knows about his sensitive stomach. He couldn’t spare the nerve to tell her that the Campbell’s tomato soup she gave him would upset his stomach more than anything else she could have selected.

She left him after he struggled with a fourth bite, frustrated. Leaving him to vomit in the dark, acidic soup burning his throat as it makes its way back up.

“Kid!”

Malcolm’s heart speeds up, his eyes frantically looking in the dark around him for the owner of the voice. Despite only knowing the detective a few short months, hearing the other man’s voice brings a rush of relief. “JT?” He pulls against the restraints, the sound of the metal loud enough to cue JT in the right direction.

“Bright!” JT stumbles into the room and he can hear the presence of another person but he can’t see past his own hand. “Bright, man, if you’re in here you better tell me because Gil or Dani will kill me if I accidentally shoot your dumbass.” There’s a rustle in the corner and JT fumbles with his left hand for the flashlight in his pocket, fingers scaling over it. He can’t find it.

“JT?” A soft voice calls and JT knows it’s Malcolm. “I-I’m not sure if you’re actually here or if-”

A soft click sounds through the room and JT directs his flashlight at Malcolm, both of them letting out similar sighs of relief. “Kid,” JT clears the room quickly, aiming the flashlight at the corners of the room before making his way to Malcolm. “It’s good to see you.”

Malcolm sags bone-tired into JT, letting the other man shoulder his weight. “I thought…” his voice trails off. He didn’t think they would be able to find him. He clears his throat, attempting to push away his blind fears. “W-Will you tell me what the J stands for now?”

JT chuckles softly but shakes his head. He pulls away, glancing over Malcolm and eyes momentarily shifting the small puddle of watery vomit. “No.” He pulls Malcolm’s hands from where they are secured to the wall behind him, unclipping the simple clasps. They look exactly like the ones Malcolm uses for bed. “After this shit?” JT shakes his head but pulls Malcolm back against him. “Man, you’re in so much trouble.”

Malcolm laughs softly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Will you take me home,” he asks, face pushed into JT’s shoulder.

JT grits his teeth, pushing down his own tears. “Yeah, man,” he clears his throat,” of course.” Helping Malcolm to his feet, shouldering most of the kid’s weight as his legs tremble beneath him. “One thing though?” Malcolm leans heavily into him and looks questioningly up at him. “No more coffee shop girls, yeah?”

Malcolm shakes his head,” I promise.”

JT reaches up and gives Malcolm’s hair a teasing rustle,” good.”

[avengerscompound]

The Grind House - Chapter 8

The Grind House: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2166

Rating:  E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - Playful Relationship

Warnings:  Smut (F/M, oral sex, vaginal fingering and sex)

Synopsis:  When Bucky Barnes stops to get coffee and warm up at your coffee shop, he had just expected that caffeine might lift his mood a little. He didn’t expect to fall head-over-heels for you over a game of chess.

Chapter 8

He came into the Grind House the following Monday.  It was during lunch so you made him a white chocolate mocha, toasted a panini and brought them over to the table by the fire with your own lunch and a caramel tart.  The two of you had played a game of ‘Codenames Duets’, which he completely annihilated you at.  While you had both played you talked about the plans for the week.  He thought he had a mission coming up.  You were considering buying some more games for the store.

In the final 10 minutes, you'd asked him if he'd come to.game night again.  He said the only thing that would keep him away was HYDRA.  He’d asked if you might like to go out on Saturday.  You had said you'd love to.

That's how it was dating you for the most part.  Playing games over lunch at The Grind House most days.  He'd come to the game night, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends.  Dates on the weekend that were often casual and always involved long makeout sessions.  You hadn’t had sex yet.  Not because either of you was waiting, but because you were being patient.  You were leaving room for his body to catch up with what his mind wanted.  He wanted to have sex with you, but the intense way his body reacted to just making out, he worried that there was no way he could get from there to sex without blowing his load.  So you did other things.  Kissing, dry humping, erotic massage.  You showered together.  You took baths.  He got you off and oh god did you get him off as you patiently went through every kind of intimate touch so he could acclimatize to it.

It had only really been a few weeks since he’d officially asked you on a date but he was falling for you fast.  He still had these huge worries about being with you.  You were just a normal person who had lived an average life.  There had been good and bad but you owned a coffee shop and played board games.  You weren’t average by any sense of the word but you were good and untouched by the kind of life he had experienced.  He worried that at some point the burden of the things he carried or the life he led now as a hero trying to clean up his past was going to be too much for you and in the end, you’d either get hurt or pull back before you let yourself be hurt.

Only it was exactly all that stuff that he was attracted to you for.  You weren’t touched by this.  He relaxed when he was around you.  He smiled.  God damn it, he let himself laugh with you.  When he was visited you part of the world, the non-Avengers world, he felt a little bit like the guy he had been before he’d ever put that army uniform on all those years ago.

Which was really odd because he knew for a fact that that guy wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking salted caramel lattes in a place like The Grind House.  He was too cool for things like that.  He always had to be moving.  He always had to show girls how extremely cool and talented he was all the time.

Now though…

Well, now he loved the Grind House.  It was like it had been designed just for him.  He loved how almost none of the chairs matched.  He loved all the different board games and card games.  He loved how it smelled.  He loved the fireplace.  He loved the different coffees and the sandwiches and the cake selection that never seemed the same from one day to the next.

He also thought he might love you.

Or at least he had that first little sparks of what could be love.  Those little things that he definitely did love that led to actually falling in love with a person.  He loved when you teased each other.  He loved when you won a game and got all smug about it.  He loved when he won you were always genuine with your congratulations.  He loved how patient you were.  How funny.  How kind.  God, the depth of your kindness seemed infinite.  He’d never known anyone like that.  He’d never known anyone so fearless and yet so absolutely determined to give to those who needed it.  Steve came close he guessed, but where Steve had always solved problems with his fists you always went the pacifist route.

So it was there and he was falling hard and fast.  It was scary and exciting.  Like being on a rollercoaster where the risk was real but the reward was real too and just might be worth it.

Steve, Sam, and Natasha all seemed to think so.  They were always pushing for more information.  While not everyone always came to the game nights, if those there were in the city, they went with him.  They talked him up to you even though, he kind of thought that wasn’t necessary.  He wasn’t sure why still, but you seemed to genuinely like him.  You didn’t act like you were feeling sorry for him.  You weren’t scared of him.  It was affection and it was real even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

You touched him on the tip of the nose and he blinked at you.  “Where’d you go?”  You asked.

He chuckled.  “Space.”

“Oh yeah?  That sounds fun.  What were you doing in space?”

He pulled you tighter to him.  “Oh, you know?  Flying around in a spaceship at light speed.  Meeting aliens.”

“Aliens like Thor?”  You asked.

“Nope.  More bit gelatinous blob monsters.”

You both started laughing and he pulled you against him.  “Pity.  Thor's hot.  Maybe he could have given you some hot alien booty.”

Bucky completely lost it.  He couldn't remember the last time he has laughed as hard or as genuinely as he was now.  It had to have been before he was taken.  Likely before the war.

He tightened his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck. “I love you so much.”  The words were out before he realized he'd even said them.

You pulled back and smiled down at him, cupping his jaw.  It felt like his heart had stopped.  He was sure that was too soon to say it.  Even if he did feel it as strongly as he did.  You couldn't possibly feel the same way.  Taking out the paranoia of no one loving him because of the monster he'd become.  Saying ‘I love you’ too soon was relationship suicide.

Your smile was soft and reassuring and you caressed his cheek with your thumb.  “I love you too, Bucky.”

It took a moment to process the words.  To process that you’d said them back.  Not only had you said them back but you had meant them.  It wasn’t you trying to placate him or manipulate him.  He loved you and you loved him right back.

A smile spread slowly over his face and he leaned in and kissed you.  Slowly and tenderly at first before deepening it quickly.  Your tongues dancing together as you moved your lips against his.  He moaned softly, pulling you into his lap and you rolled your hips against him, his already rock hard cock rubbing through his clothes.

He groaned and bunched a hand in your hair as the other ran down your side and gripped your hip.  You pulled back and looked down at him.  “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“Mmm good idea.”  He teased and got up, lifting you with him.  You squealed and kissed him hungrily as he carried you down to the bedroom he tossed you onto the bed and you let out another squeal as you bounced on the mattress.  He laughed and climbed up on the bed after you, crawling over your body and leaning in to kiss you.

You cupped his jaw just before he did and looked into his eyes.  “We can go at the pace you want.  I have no expectations right now.”

He nodded.  “You are too good to me.”

You shook your head.  “Nope, you deserve the world.”

He leaned in and kissed you again, deeply and passionately.  He wanted you now.  His body ached for you, but he knew he was going to need to slow down at least a little.  He rutted his hips, grinding down against you.

He broke the kiss and trailed his lips down your neck.  Peppering your skin with kisses.  He pulled back and lifted your shirt over your head before kissing his way down your body.  He wanted to taste you.  To make you come.  To drink it up before he sunk his dick deep inside of you.

You squirmed under him and ran your fingers through his hair as he kissed down your stomach and pulled your pants down.  He softly kissed the inside of each thigh before sucking hard enough to mark them.  You moaned loudly and lifted your hips off the bed.  Almost presenting your cunt to him, glistening with your arousal.

He hummed and breathed you in as he spread your folds with his fingers and licked his tongue over the exposed pink of your pussy.  Wide at first, coating his tongue with your juices.  Savoring the sweet and salty taste of them.  As you squirmed and moaned and tugged on his hair he focused in on your clit, drawing random patterns over it.  Sometimes large and sloppy, sometimes small and focused.  Your moans got louder and you pushed him down into your cunt more.  He chuckled and sucked your clit into his mouth and sucked on it as he pushed his fingers inside you.

He fucked you with them, curling them and stroking them inside you as he fucked you with his fingers.  His senses were being overwhelmed.  The sound of your moans filled the room as the scent and taste of your cunt filled him.  His cock was hard and throbbing and he wanted to be inside you, but he needed you to come in his mouth.  He wanted it badly.

He kept working your cunt, his fingers dragging over the soft spongy surface of your g-spot as he held your clit between his lips and flicked his tongue over it.  You arched up suddenly and came.  He kept pumping his fingers as he drank up what he could, your fluids running down his wrist and your body shuddered.

You sat up and guided him up with you, still breathing heavily, your eyes blown out with lust.  He kissed you deeply and you pushed him back against the headboard of the bed without breaking the kiss.  You unfastened his pants and pulled them down, his cock, sprang up and lay against his stomach, rock hard and throbbing.  You hummed when you saw it and gently ran your fingers up its length.  It jumped and twitched at your touch, sending a shiver up his spine.

“God, your dick is so fucking big.”  You hummed as you climbed into his lap.

“I’ve noticed.”  He teased and you both started giggling.  “It’s partly the serum.  Are you worried?”

You shook your head and slowly sunk down on it moaning as the wet warmth of your cunt enveloped him.  You squeezed around his cock, sending a shock of pleasure through him, making him moan and buck up into you.

You relaxed your core muscles and slowly began to twist your hips on him.  He groaned and looked up into your eyes.  It felt like ecstasy.  So good compared to anything he’d felt for so long.  Even with the gradual build up, it still felt so much better than he had remembered.  He leaned down and nuzzled at your breasts.  He sucked on them.  Pulled your nipples into his mouth and bit gently on them.  He moved up, capturing your lips, kissing you hungrily.

His balls tightened and he started to thrust up into you.  You rubbed your clit as he fucked you and you moaned into the kiss.  Just as he was sure he wasn’t going to last any longer you came again, crying out and throwing your head back.  The sudden clenching of your cunt was more than he could handle.  He thrust hard up into you and came hard, grunting and burying his face in your neck.

The two of you collapsed down on the be and you curled up in his arms, resting your head on his chest.   “Well, I got what I wanted,”  You teased, running your hand over his chest.

He laughed.  “Just that?  I’m sure I could do better if you stuck around.”

You broke down into giggles.  “Alright, alright.  I guess another time might be okay.”

He chuckled and leaned down and kissed you.  He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve you, but he was definitely holding on to you now he’d found you.

// NEXT

[chaoskirin]

The Seven Seas--Chapter Two

Fandom: Queen Genre: Sci-fi/Gen Rating: PG Chapter 2 Word Count: 1965

To John, nothing was more important than the cool rationale of logic. Therefore, he found it a constant source of unfortunance that nothing logical ever happened around the other three members of Queen. He'd come to accept it, which is why--he thought with smug affection--he always came to expect the most illogical outcome of even the most mundane situations.

Hence, aliens.

John was and had always been an I-Told-You-So type of fellow, with the advantage that he never had to speak the actual words. Case in point, he merely arched his eyebrows and Roger said, "Oh, shut up, John!"

It saved John many hours of gloating.

He shrugged and smirked, nodding at the tiny aliens, which now had tiny little weapons drawn in the most adorable display of force anyone on earth had ever seen.

"I think you might just want to get back into your ship and go back to Denmark," Freddie said. "Earth--er. Rhye, I mean. Rhye is pretty happy without alien overlords. I think. You guys think?"

He looked at the others. Roger and Brian nodded their assent.

John agreed with the others. The last thing earth needed was another set of conquerors, considering all the world leaders currently vying for control. The planet had plenty of problems already without adding aliens into the mix, and while aliens running things might be interesting, it would ultimately be more of the same.

However. He'd come to expect the most absurd, most inane outcome of anything. And while an alien invasion by toenail-sized creatures was absurd enough, even more absurd would be if they could follow through on their threat. Outright rejecting their tiny takeover might do more harm than good as far as John was concerned. Not that he expected that they could refuse anyway. It would be just be their luck if the tiny aliens were also inexplicably deadly.

In the end, he shrugged.

"You want," Roger began, pausing for ineffect. "You want alien overlords?"

"I think," John said, pausing for actual effect as he nodded to the gun-brandishing Denmarkians, "that we should hear what they have to say."

"WE," said the leader, and John was getting tired of all this needless pausing, "DEMAND RHYE'S UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER! IMMEDIATELY!"

"You'd said," John remarked, kneeling so he was closer to the aliens. No longer impassive, they were scowling with a most ferocious sort of ultra-frown, which involved an almost ninety degree bend to their stalk-eyes. They meant business. "How about if you tell us what surrender means. To you."

The diplomat hopped off the walkway and jammed his tiny gun into John's knee. He probably should have been afraid--at least a little--but it was hard to drum up the proper amount of respect for a weapon the size of a pushpin.

As a side-note, John was beginning to think that the diplomat was less of a diplomat and more of a strong-armer. In any case, he certainly didn't have diplomacy on his mind and seemed very content with just murdering everyone and blowing up the planet without pausing for any pleasant negotiations whatsoever. Seemed like a positively primeval method of conducting interstellar business, but what did John know? He'd never actually conducted any interstellar business, and had, until today, been unsure as to the existence of life outside of earth. For all he knew, this was exactly proper.

"SURRENDER!" the diplomat/strong-armer screamed again.

Despite the weapon pressed to his knee, John dared again to respond, "we've never actually surrendered before. It's not that we're being difficult. It's just that we don't know how."

"YOU WILL SUMMON ALL THE PEOPLE OF EARTH TO THIS LOCATION," the  leader said. "AT THAT POINT THEY WILL BE DESTROYED HUMANELY AND QUICKLY, WITH MINIMAL SPLATTER."

The pause that followed lasted several preposterous seconds.

"Right," Roger said, grabbing their ship and lifting it out of the barn's floor. Several terrified voices screamed from inside as the leader and the glasses-wearer pointed their tiny weapons at him. Unintimidated, Roger spun the ship on one finger, like a basketball or a top.

John thought that was a bit excessive.

"I don't mean to be rude," Freddie said, obviously meaning to be rude. "But I'm not sure your weapons would do even the least amount of damage. Are you sure it was earth--er. Rhye--you wanted to invade, and not a planet with a much tinier population? Someone more your size?"

In response, the diplomat aimed his tiny laser at a passing chicken, and the chicken exploded in a cloud of feathers and assorted gore.

Freddie yelped. Brian wobbled a little on unsteady feet before sinking to the floor. Roger put their ship down. Carefully.

"I THINK OUR WEAPONS WILL DO JUST FINE," the leader said.

He did have a point. If one tiny gun could destroy a chicken so thoroughly, it would probably do a similar amount of damage to something larger. If nothing else, the little weapons were interesting, and John wondered whether it would breach surrender protocol if he asked to take one apart to see how it worked.

"Did he just explode that cock?" Freddie asked.

"It was a hen and you know it," Brian replied. "You just wanted to say 'cock.'"

"I don't need an excuse to say 'cock,' darling," Freddie said, at the same time Roger sighed, "can we all stop saying 'cock,' please!"

The point still stood, so John asked, "would your weapons do the same to a human, do you think?"

"OF COURSE THEY WOULD," the leader shouted, full of his own pride. "THEY ARE SPECIFICALLY CALIBRATED TO OBLITERATE ALL LIFE ON THE PLANET."

John scratched his head. "Then why not just nuke us from orbit?"

"John!" Roger hissed. "That is not the question you should be asking!"

It was of interest, though! If they had these powerful weapons capable of destroying all life on earth, one would think it would be easier--if not more efficient--to just point and shoot from a couple hundred miles away. It would probably be more painless, too, what with all the people on earth simply not expecting to be destroyed on this rather pleasant Tuesday morning. And at least most people would die doing what they loved--or at least doing what they tolerated. John did suppose some people were working, and most people didn't love their jobs.

What a sad fact of reality.

And at this point, dear readers, I will spare you a whole paragraph of aliens screaming in capslock and simply summarize their answer: They didn't nuke the planet from orbit for several reasons: first that chasing humans was just too exhausting. They'd tried chasing the sapient species on the last planet they conquered, and they were still mopping up that mess even a hundred zorgits later. Roger asked what a zorgit was, to which the aliens replied: a roundabout loop in space-time wherein all intelligent species could measure time without the use of a star. Brian thought that made sense.

The second reason was that their weapons were just slightly out-of-tune with the universe, and if they blasted an entire planet, they could open up a hole in reality, into which all realities would be sucked, destroying the entire space-time continuum. In theory.

John asked why they didn't test that theory. Roger smacked him with a newspaper.

John then asked why the aliens had a pronounceable word for "zorgit," but not a pronounceable word for their own planet. This question was cut from the story entirely for being a god-damned plothole that the author didn't want to explain.

"I guess," Brian said after the rather long-winded explanation, "my only question would be why?"

"AH!" the leader said. "RHYE SHALL BE OUR RESORT PLANET! A BEAUTIFUL GEM IN THE MILKY WAY GALAXY WHERE OUR PEOPLE MAY RELAX AND ENJOY THEMSELVES!"

John, preferring that no more of his questions be cut from the story, resisted asking how the aliens found a name for the Milky Way and not a name for the planet. Perhaps radio chatter was selective.

"AND!" the diplomat went on, jamming his adorable weapon into John's knee again, "WE SHALL BUILD A HYPERSPACE WARP TO OUR NEW RESORT PLANET SO THAT IT ONLY TAKES SECONDS TO REACH IT, AND NOT A WHOLE YEAR!"

"SHOW THEM," the leader said, waving a tentacle or two at the alien with the glasses.

The glasses-alien pulled another folded document from another skin fold and spread it out on the barn floor. It showed the planet, now adorned with a whole lot of strange structures and attractions, none of which made the remotest amount of sense. Australia had simply been removed for whatever reason, while another land mass had been created halfway between Africa and South America.

What must have been the hyperspace warp circled just outside the planet. The aliens had drawn a smiley face on it.

"Impressive," said Freddie. "I really, truly mean that. Can't you do this somewhere else?"

"NO," the leader replied. "THIS IS THE PLACE. I CAN TELL."

"Well then you must give us a chance to save our planet. A... show of force," Freddie said.

"A SHOW!" the aliens sang all at once. The leader continued: "A SHOW! YES! TO WELCOME YOUR NEW OVERLORDS AND BOW TO YOUR OWN DESTRUCTION. I ACCEPT. HOW MANY ZORGITS WILL IT TAKE TO PREPARE?"

"Not a show--" Roger started.

Freddie elbowed him. "Uh, how many Rhye days is a zorgit?"

The aliens conferred, then the leader said, "WE CAN GIVE YOU FIVE RHYE DAYS. WE LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR SHOW. THANK YOU FOR FREEING OUR SHIP FROM YOUR FLOOR."

As John, Freddie, and Brian all gave Roger a dirty look for allowing the aliens their freedom, the three slug-like creatures climbed back onto their ship and flew it out through the hole in the roof, leaving both the star map and the recreation plans behind.

Dazed, everyone stared upward at the sky until Brian said, "Well, now what do we do?"

John had a few ideas, none of which involved putting on a show. He wondered if NASA had any mass transport shuttles prepared to just whisk everyone on the planet to a safer location, then he remembered that NASA was funded by the American government and had a good chuckle.

"Well," Freddie said. "I think I have an idea. It'll be risky, but I'm absolutely sure we're up to the task. The alien said--"

"Which one?" Roger asked.

"Does it matter?" Freddie returned.

"Yes! Look, we can't just call them all 'alien,'" Roger said. "Gets confusing."

"It's not like we exchanged pleasantries," Freddie scoffed, hand to his chest in a rather affronted manner. "They said they were here to exchange pleasantries before everything went weird. I should have liked to."

John very strongly felt that if none of them could pronounce the name of the alien planet--despite Roger's good ol' college try--they probably wouldn't be able to pronounce the aliens' individual names. He could have said so, but listening to Freddie go on about how rude the little beings were for not introducing themselves was entertaining at the very least.

Brian said, "We can just assign them names. For our own purposes."

"All right. Well the tallest one was the leader, so I say we call him 'Freddie,'" Freddie said.

Roger grabbed a handful of sawdust from the floor and rubbed it into Freddie's hair. "You're not our leader. You're just a git."

"Let's call him 'Leader,'" Brian suggested diplomatically, as Roger and Freddie slap-fought like children. "And the one with the maps. We can call him Glasses."

"Fine, fine," Roger said. And the other one was more of a git than Freddie, so we can call him Arsehole."

No one had any objections.

[beardycarrot]

This post is way too long so ignore it and just keep scrolling

Alright. Having played both Sonic Mania and Sonic Forces, I can now say, based on my own experiences... that Sonic Forces is a smoldering garbage heap.

First off, let me get this out of the way: the character creation system is... okay. In the screenshot above, you can see My Original Character,  Blonic  Eiko the Cat. You have several different anthropomorphic animal species to choose from, each of which has their own species-specific ability. Birds can double-jump, cats hold on to a few rings even after taking heavy damage, that kind of thing. There’s a selection of three head types for each species, about a dozen eyes, and can set two skin/fur/scale/feather colors. Not bad.

For the game’s main selling point, though, it feels a little weak... especially in comparison to the last game I played, South Park: The Fractured But Whole. In addition to your character’s physical appearance, which meshes perfectly with the South Park style, you can set your character’s gender (male/female/non-binary/multi-gender), whether they’re cis or trans, both their race and ethnicity, their sexual preferences, religion, all sorts of stuff that are pointless in the context of the game but let you make your character whatever you want them to be. I’m not saying that all games should have this, but I did just play that game, so I can’t help but compare Sonic Forces to it since the character creator is meant to be one of the game’s big gimmick.

Anyway. In addition to your character’s body, you also get to dress them up with outfits you unlock as you play. I guess this is a cool concept, with you getting between three and twelve costume pieces every level depending on how well you do and whether anything you did in a level completed a special objective... but it’s annoying constantly being pelted with costumes you’ll never wear. I was a mixture of fortunate and unfortunate in the fact that clothes I like (a tactical outfit in black and olive green) were unlocked within the first couple levels, so I could wear an outfit I like throughout the game... but it also meant that I never had any reason to change out for new gear or experiment with costumes that would only be less appealing to me.

There’s also the jarring fact that with clothing on, your character looks completely out of place. Most of the other characters in the game wear nothing but white gloves and sneakers, and seeing you alongside them just makes them look naked. I’ve spent way too long talking about customization. Moving on...

...You can also customize your avatar’s weapon, which I guess is the power of the Wisp aliens from Sonic Colors stored in a gun? There are probably advantages to all of them, but you spend less than half of the game playing as your avatar, every enemy in the game dies in one hit, and the fire weapon I started with can clear a screen of enemies in literally two seconds... so I never really bothered with them. You also occasionally find Wisps locked in capsules, but the game never actually gives you a real tutorial for them. It’s possible that it was explained in a hint marker, but it’s possible to take a route through a level or jump at just the wrong moment that you miss the marker and can’t go back to see what it said. I eventually figured it out in level twenty-five, which is right at the end of the game... and that level also happens to be a great example of why I don’t like this game.

I know that as a still frame this is kinda incomprehensible, but what you’re looking at is a little vertical shaft kind of thing. There have been shafts like this elsewhere in the game, but they’ve always been things you either just dropped down through or rode an elevator in or had platforms to jump on. Here?

This game apparently has a wall-jumping mechanic, which only appears here, in the twenty-fifth of thirty levels. I’m completely fine with video games using mechanics sparingly or even basing levels around a gimmick that never appears again... but this is the only time in the game that this happens, and the mechanic isn’t even implemented very well. If you’re too close to the wall it will sometimes fail to activate, if you press the jump button again too soon you won’t cling to the wall, and sometimes your series of jumps will have you end up jumping over the wall to the left instead of going right... which is an issue considering that for the second half of the level, you have to do this while trying to outrun a giant instant death laser. Assuming you can even get to that point.

I can’t tell you how long I was stuck here. To the left is a checkpoint, and all you can do is collect what looks like an electric Wisp in a capsule, then... wait to the blue death laser to kill you and put you back at the check point. The dark red boxes are breakable, and you’re clearly meant to either get down through this shaft to continue... but there’s no obvious way to do this. I thought that you were supposed to use the electric Wisp somehow, but I guess you can only do that if you have the right Wisp weapon equipped, as the game only seems to care when I collect capsules with fire Wisps in them.

I was eventually forced to watch a video of someone playing this level, and they just kind of... broke through all the boxes at once. After further research, I discovered that if you press the Crouch button (which I’ve never pressed up to this point and forgot existed) while in the air, you’ll do a stomp move that the game never bothered to teach me.

Once you’re past that, the next section is incredibly difficult... I figured out how to use the encapsulated fire Wisps (it’s the “Wisp Special” button that I’d previously been unable to figure out the function of) to skip over the obstacles, but if you don’t time/aim it properly, you’re back down in the area where you have to deal with the wall jumps that occasionally send you careening backwards.

I know that I’m just complaining about one difficult end-game level, but the entire game is like this. It’s all either gameplay mechanics the game doesn’t explain properly that are prone to failing, or levels that are way too short and simplistic. I haven’t even touched on the jumping mechanics... Want to know how many times I died replaying that level to get those screenshots?

A couple of those are from the laser section, but it’s mostly falling into bottomless pits because you’re pretty strongly locked into your jump trajectory when playing as Your Own Character, and the platform placement in that level sucks. It’s not as big of a deal when playing as Sonic; I think Classic Sonic has free control in the air, and you only play as him in two or three levels, while Modern Sonic’s levels are so completely filled with enemies and jump pads that you can just spam the jump button to string homing attacks through anything that isn’t a speed section. Places where the gameplay becomes frustrating aren’t as common as in other games I’ve played recently (L.A. Noire comes to mind), but that’s because the majority of the levels are ridiculously simplistic and easy, and when you reach the end without anything really happening you’re just like...

Which brings me, finally, to the worst part of the game: the story. This is among the worst video game writing I have ever seen... and as someone who does a lot of art for indie, amateur, and fan games, I’ve seen a lot of scripts from “idea guys” who’ve never taken any kind of literature or creative writing classes.

The basic premise of the story sounds interesting, and seems like a huge departure from the normal Sonic formula: Dr. Eggman and his new associate Infinite use the powers of all the major antagonists from past games to kill Sonic and take over the world. The remaining characters of the Sonic universe form a resistance movement (the forces in Sonic Forces) to fight back, and half a year later Your Own Character joins up after their home city is destroyed.

Damn, man! That’s pretty dark! Unfortunately, it completely fails to deliver. Unsurprisingly, Sonic isn’t dead... but he HAS been held prisoner and tortured for the last six months. Despite that, he’s in high spirits and joking with his captors... yeah I dunno, just bad writing ...and manages to escape when the resistance attacks the base and temporarily disables the power grid. Why Sonic was in a Laser Prison and wearing Laser Handcuffs that require uninterrupted power to operate is just more bad writing, as is the fact that he was being held on a space station and you’re never shown how the resistance got up there.

More importantly, it’s never explained how the resistance discovered that Sonic was still alive. There are other captives in the same area, so THEY would know he’s alive, but there’s never any indication that one of them managed to escape. Speaking of which, they’re all still imprisoned after Sonic breaks free, and I think the space station ends up destroyed... so those guys are probably all dead. That reminds me of another point: most of the levels just end at a random arbitrary point. You ostensibly have a goal that you’re trying to reach, but the goal markers are always, like, in the middle of a hallway, which looks no different from anywhere else, and there’s no cutscene showing what happens what the characters do after reaching their goal... the level just kinda ends.

Most of the game’s dialogue and exposition is in the form of radio conversations that occur on the map screen, which I can’t help but admit makes sense: media too often forces characters to be in the same place for scenes to occur, when logically they would’ve just spoken on the phone. The issue I have with this is that it really does make up the bulk of the game’s dialogue, and none of the conversations are ever that interesting. Honestly, more than anything it reminds me of the kind of story you’d see in a free-to-play mobile game... except there isn’t really any kind of story being told, just information being relayed. There isn’t any kind of character development, since the game expects you to already know who everyone is and what their paper-thin personalities are.

After Eggman spends six months taking over Literally The Entire World, and the resistance apparently does very little to stop this, Your Own Character joins up and things start happening instantly. They rescue Sonic, then Classic Sonic appears out of nowhere to save Tails from Chaos, the creature from Sonic Adventure. I guess they included him (Classic Sonic, that is; after this cutscene, Chaos is never seen again) to trick people into thinking that this game would be similar to the much more popular Sonic Generations. I think the plot of that game involved time travel, accounting for the two Sonics, but here they’ve retconned him as “the Sonic from another universe”.

Speaking of time travel and alternate dimensions, Silver and Blaze are in this game... I’m no big Sonic fan (in fact, Sonic Mania and Sonic Forces, both of which I played this week, were the first Sonic games I’ve ever beaten), but them being part of the resistance is kinda inexplicable. To my knowledge, Blaze is from an alternate dimension, but in Sonic ‘06 was somehow Silver’s partner or something in the post-apocalyptic future. In the end, I think Sonic saving the day included the elimination of the timeline in which Silver existed... so I’m not really sure what’s up with Silver and Blaze being in this game. Are they now retconned to just being normal people who live in the same place as everyone else?

I’m also really confused on how this game fits in with the rest of the series. Infinite’s power is to create autonomous physical virtual reality projections, and he uses it to create his own versions of the Chaos, Zavok, Metal Sonic, and Shadow... so in addition to being in continuity with Sonic Generations and Sonic Colors (the game the Wisps are from), you also have to include the Sonic Adventure games and Sonic Lost World. Again, I’m no expert on Sonic, but... I’m pretty sure at least a few of these games feature planets populated with humans, and not the hordes of bipedal animals that make up the only characters in this game. Is there just no official continuity at this point?

As an aside... every character you see in scenes like this are made with the character creator, but for some reason they’ve limited themselves to a very small number of models instead of just using a bunch of different random colors and other features. See that bluish-purple dog at the front? If you look closely, you can see five or six identical dogs in the background, all doing the same animation where they raise their guns up in the air.

I’ve gotten REALLY off-topic, which is basically a war crime with how long this post is already. Anyway, as I was saying before I derailed myself, once Your Own Character joins the resistance things happen super fast. Sonic is alive, Classic Sonic appears out of nowhere and punches the Chaos clone (which is subsequently never seen again, despite Infinite being able to create an infinite number of them), and Eggman for whatever reason reveals that his ultimate plan will be complete in just three days. I’m not really clear on what this plan is, but it involves a virtual reality projection of the sun... I don’t know, Majora’s Mask-ing the planet and killing everyone, maybe? Again, bad writing.

Sonic faces off against Infinite and, despite the player winning the boss fight, gets his $#!+ kicked in... and that’s when Infinite says, and this is an actual, verbatim quote, “You’re not even worth the effort to finish off”. I think I might actively hate the writers of this game. I feel like I should probably also mention that the boss fight takes place on the back of a giant snake that’s just kinda floating there, suspended in mid-air, above a forest that is also a casino?

It’s at this point that Infinite drops a prototype version of the Phantom Ruby, which is what gives him his powers. How did he fail to notice that he’d dropped something the size of a softball? How was he even carrying it? WHY was he carrying it, when the finished perfected ruby was already embedded in his chest and he’d been using it for over six months? If you expect these questions to have answers, well, that bold text in the last paragraph must’ve caught your eye and you’re just now at this point starting to read the post. Hello, welcome! The writing in this game is absolutely abysmal!

Your Own Character picks up the prototype ruby and holds onto it for the next three days... well, except for when they drop it while Infinite is looking right at them after a boss fight, and he doesn’t notice ...and at the end of the game, uses it to somehow get rid of the virtual reality sun. How do they know that the ruby is and how to use it? No idea. How do they get rid of the sun? Happens off-screen. Then, further confusing matters vis-a-vis whether the prototype ruby is invisible to bad guys, Eggman acts as if he saw it... despite it breaking and disappearing before he arrives. Weird.

Alright, backtracking a bit, I need to touch on the stupidest plot point in the game: the Phantom Zone. Well, I think it’s called Null Space or something, Eggman calls it “a little something the Phantom Ruby cooked up”, whatever that means... but it’s basically the Phantom Zone. A pocket dimension that supposedly contains literally nothing. Eggman opens up a portal into it, Your Own Character tries to save Sonic from it, and they’re both pulled in... man, that’s a scary concept, isn’t it? Being trapped in an empty void?

If a regular prison held Sonic for six months, and he only got out with help from the outside, then I can’t even imagine how long this will-- haha just kidding it’s twenty seconds this game was written by chimps.

Apparently “completely empty” means “filled with blocks you can run on”, and Sonic manages to get out... by double-boosting. There are a handful of levels where you play as both Sonic and Your Own Character at the same time (the “you’re next to me and I’m next to you” in the Hoobastank song you hear in that video), allowing you to use the Wisp weapons while also using Sonic’s super speed. You’ll also be prompted to “double boost” at set points, which consists of the characters jumping in the air, fist-bumping, and then... holding hands and somehow running even faster, I guess? I’m not at all clear on how this works, or how it broke them out of Null Space.

I’d be totally okay (bored, but okay) with the prototype ruby being responsible for them escaping, but that’s not how it’s presented: they’re meant to have escaped through the power of friendship and running really, really fast. I mean, I can come up with a reason it works, gimme a minute... uh... virtual reality... pocket dimension... gotta go fast.... gotta go faster faster faster faster faster... aha! Maybe it’s an empty, infinite void because it’s being created as you move through it, but the double boost allows them to move faster than it can be created, allowing them to break free? Yeah, that’s dumb but plausible in-universe. Too bad the writers made literally no attempt to explain it.

After that, it’s time for the big showdown with Infinite, the game’s hot new antagonist. Who is he, why does he hate Sonic, why is he working with Eggman? What kind of awesome boss battle will you have against him? Not explained, not explained, not explained, and it’s just a slight variation of the boss fight you have with Metal Sonic earlier in the game. You DO get an explanation of who he is if you play Episode Shadow, free DLC consisting of three levels that you played in the base game that serves as a kind of prequel. All of your juicy Infinite-related questions are answered: he’s a nameless mercenary who went all emo because Sonic beat him up. Oh. Well. That’s... lame.

This post is already over three thousand words, so I’ll wrap it up. After your boring rehashed boss battle with Infinite, he just kinda... runs away, never to be seen again, and you have to contend with Eggman and his giant robots. It’s not very interesting. Once the day is saved, you get this completely inane exchange between the characters, which in most games would be the worst bit of writing... here, it might be in the top five. Knuckles says that the fight is over, everyone can go home, there’s no longer a need for the resistance... but then Amy (or someone) says, “no, we’re just getting started!”, and Knuckles nods in agreement as if she didn’t just directly contradict him. As if two characters doing this isn’t bad enough, Tails then does the exact same thing all by himself, saying something like, “we won, the resistance is done, now we have to come together to save the world!” I think he also says something about just one person not being able to change the world, which I’m pretty sure runs contrary to a “one person CAN make a difference!” message the game had been going for earlier.

And... that’s about it. I have nothing more to say. This game is bad, anyone who defends it is lying to themselves, and it’s entirely possible that I’ve spent more time writing this unfocused rambling post than I did actually playing the game. I’m not a Sonic hater; the playground politics surrounding video games in the early nineties didn’t exist where I grew up, so to me Sonic has always just kinda been that series with the interesting music that I had no particular interest in playing. As I mentioned, I played through Sonic Mania at the same time as I was playing Forces, and loved it. It’s a bit on the hard side for someone who’s never played a Sonic game, but aside from a few annoying bits in Hydrocity and Oil Ocean, it’s a blast all the way through. That’s a great game... and Sonic Forces, in my opinion, is decidedly not.

Back in 2017 I made a post about the Metascore for Sonic Forces, and received backlash for it. I decided to wait until as many critics as possible had reviewed the game, and... never really felt like doing the update, so didn’t get around to it until now. So, how much of a difference does a year make in the review score?

Oh wow, it’s like I knew what I was talking about or something. Well, kinda. At the time I said that Sonic Forces didn’t seem like a bad game, based on what I’d seen of it. Having played the game for myself... I think my opinion is known.

[intensitystoner]

The heart of Anthony

a carelessly worded, mildly Frostiron scribble, rated T for drinkin' and language ~2,500 words (ignores Endgame)

Thanos is dead. Many in the Universe have perished during the battle against him. T'Challa. Peter. The Guardians of the Galaxy. Pepper. Thor.

Loki hasn't, he tricked Hela into letting him go from Hel this once. He returned into a world mourning its many losses, and he joined in with his own. He hid from the remaining Asgardians who searched for the next-in-line to the throne. He said his prayers unseen. He raised some havoc at certain points of the universe experimentally, but it didn't bring fulfilment: it was too easy where no one knew him. He ended up on Earth.

Earth is an easy target for nations still recovering after the wars; disorganised alien attacks are more frequent than holidays. S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing a satisfactory job, the Avengers are partially disbanded, a few available members get in contact for occasional teamwork. Tony is a drunkard, a sullen prince in a sealed-off, ruinous Tower. Friends have been trying to barge into his privatised life for his very much essential contribution, to no avail. Some have given up, others spit scornful comments about him or his guts when Loki enters the battle scene for the first time; in chains, willing hostage to the current alien powers, pretending to be helpless against them until a favourable moment presents itself. During the scarcely nostalgic encounter, he's freed unasked, and his plans are nullified with the perish of the alien troops. He can deny his need for help as he wants, his debt is established; in return for letting him stay unharmed, he needs to prove his allegiance. His task: get through the barrier and bring the self-important prince out of his castle. No need to get into the man's dishevelled mind or broken soul, physical force is fully accepted. Point is, Stark should be whole in the end and the Avengers should get a chance to talk to him.

So Loki, for want of better, or in respect to his late brother, that Midgard-lover oaf, sneaks through a familiarly humane defence mechanism with the aid of sorcery. Treads watchfully along glassy corridors and crosses deadly silences, climbs stairs and unnecessarily recognises elements designed for specific Avengers he's encountered before. Meets no resistance from the moment of entering the building. Explores systematically, from the lowest underground floors lined with motionless or disinterested robotics. Heading upwards, he pockets a few peculiar items, none of those found in Midgard among natural circumstances. Stops on Floor +6, marked with the general symbolic 'A' on the elevator's number plate. He stands in a dim, window-lit hall with crystal-smooth floor, leather sofas and a bar at the other end. Abandons the last bits of aloofness based on former experience at a very similar place. His steps don't stir the prince awake. If he's dead, as the stench indicates, it can't have been for a long time because blood is still vivid under his skin on the cheeks, nose, closed eyes. He's lying spread on the floor, jeans and T-shirt sweated through, hair inches longer than last seen, coarse bristles on his cheeks. It seems like the only thing he still gave a damn about while conscious were the former content of the countless glass bottles and cans scattered on tables, plants, shelves.

Loki deems the tip of his boot enough to stain, so he uses it to turn the man's head to the side experimentally. Just as he thought, rigor mortis hasn't set in yet. He makes sure by turning it the other way with his heel.

Stark curses at the assault against his nose and mouth. Straightening his neck, he takes time before peeking out into the weak but killer light through a curtain of eyelashes.

"Care for a drink?" he inquires already, though he can't see his guest enough yet to identify him. He clambers up to an elbow, repeatedly.

"I'll pass, thank you," the sorcerer responds while pulling up the billionaire by the upper arm, intending to drag him to the open conveniently like this.

"I have great Burgundy back there, y'know," Stark notes, giving emphasis by an index finger held into the other's face. And when he stops squinting at that finger, he frowns in recognition. "Loki!" And then: "F.R.I.D.A.Y?”  

The sorcerer, still holding his grip, follows Stark's example of glancing around. But nothing happens, the needed saviour doesn't heed the call. Alcohol enhances the purity of the billionaire's dismay.

"Drinks," he remembers abruptly and attempts to stumble backwards from the captivity.

"None of your drinks are better than water to a god," Loki informs him while he tugs on the arm to keep the man on his feet.

"God, I'll have a few select words to, once I make it there," Tony says. "But before that, you'll have to give me a chance to prove you wrong. As man to man. You'll see how much you've got to learn about the drinks of Midgard."

Loki yields and follows him silently, watches the clumsy clinking of bottles that cover the entire mirror-wall behind the counter, and the fiddling with two laboriously snatched glasses. After Stark drenches both glasses and the table top in the chosen liquid, the sorcerer takes the bottle out of his hand and puts it to his mouth.

"Show-off," the billionaire observes before gulping down the fiery fluid from his glass, then from the other one. "Have you also tried drowning your sorrow in booze? Did you notice that bitch is a damn good swimmer? I heard you're also left behind by all your own kin."  

The drink really has no greater effect than water, Loki learns during the tactless comment. The half empty bottle hits the counter with a loud thud.

"I’m here to take you out of here. Let's go, time's ticking."

Tony's face darkens at that, but his slurred tone remains light.

"I've got plenty of time, exactly a lifetime more than I want. And you are no different, god," he responds, lifting the bottle to his lips.

Loki takes it out of his hand and throws it away; it smashes into the ground with a sharp, splintering noise.

"Time to go, babbler," he repeats and reaches for the other's arm over the counter.

The billionaire huffs while reeling away from the captivity, amused. He turns back to the mirror shelves and blindly lifts off another bottle.

"Take me, if you can."

"You're challenging me?" Loki's surprise is overwhelming, the notion is quite unconscious as he twists the bottle out of the disoriented fingers and sends it on a short flight. Tony grins with the bottle opener left in his hand.  

"Been in a while, if you haven't noticed. It's what drunkards do."

And he reaches for another drink. He loses it the same way. Next time he turns, the entire wall collapses into a pool of splinters and drinks on the floor. It goes with an ear-splitting noise but no harm is done to the billionaire, he merely blinks in surprise and wades ankle-high in the precious fluids as he backs away from the sorcerer suddenly next to him. He attacks or defends with the opener in his hand, his wrist is caught and twisted before he'd figure out which one it is. He yelps and backs up from the pain, but Loki steps after him, fingertips of his free hand lie over the glowing triangle on the billionaire's chest.

"And what in Heavens is this abomination anyway? Where's your heart?"

"There's none," Tony lies with an empty stare at him, but he finds it truer now than ever.

"Isn't there? What's in its place then?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Are you not human?"

"Maybe not."

"How about here?"

Tony holds his breath from the unnerving sensation as cool fingers slide onto his aching forehead and a foreign presence invades his mind. Memories gush forth, a coarsely edited film of his life. His freshest pains burn the deepest. Unable to think words, he roars inarticulately in a desire to get rid of them.

Loki's face shows confusion against the billionaire's torment.

"You're not artificial anywhere. You're all you."

He wants to ask why Stark denied that, but the shock took its toll on the alcohol-infused body. As blood rapidly drains from the man's face, Loki grabs hold of the shirt, catching up his fall. Held by that one clothing, he drags the semi-conscious corpse around the counter and towards the centre of the room. With a skilful switch of hands, he turns him onto his stomach, and holding him the same way by the back of the shirt, he leans the jaw to a large flower pot as considerately as he can.

Before his neck could twist back and break, Tony's hands hold his torso up, and while Loki releases him, he clambers higher over the edge of the pot and lets the burning bitter-sour fluid leave through his gutter. It doesn't have much thickness, he's forgotten the last time he ate something.

Minutes pass while the god walks aimlessly at a polite distance and Tony's arm embraces the thin crust of the mango tree, resting his forehead against it, relishing the terrible sensation of sobering out.

"Ready to leave?" Loki inquires then.

"I'm ready to die. Give me back my drinks, you stuck-up jerk,” Tony mumbles in a voice way too smooth for his words. "God, I miss F.R.I.D.A.Y."

"Who's that?"

"Man's best friend. Fits your moods, helps in need, only comes when called. No, the latter's not true, she can be an annoying whore at times. Must have turned her off at some point."

"Is she your spouse?"

Tony huffs quietly before answering.

"She should've been." He clambers up onto the nearest sofa, turning towards the backrest. "She should've been my spouse instead, then all would be fine now."

Loki frowns at the notion and walks back towards him.

"You’ll get to rest later. Don't make me drag you out by a leg."

"Get the fuck out, god of clowns, save the others from me spitting into their faces. They can't leave a man to mourn in peace."

It's getting longer than a quick favour, Loki's patience is running out. He stops for one last warning with his best intentions.

"Anthony, is it?"

"Your fat ass mother it is."

His eyebrows run up.

"In fact, she was a woman of much refined appearance."

That makes Anthony laugh, a semi-willed hiss that grows into a roar of laughter. When it’s over, he says:

"Don't tell me you're as ignorant as your brother. He was quite usable in a fight, but in terms of perception, he wasn't the brightest. He went after his own nose like the world was a single straight line. He's the saviour of the Universe and all that shit, and we loved him even before that, but he was still a dumbass. A Point Break. A big, sturdy ox with restraints way worse than the Hulk."

Loki smiles then, perhaps for the first time since his return without having control over it. Because Thor is always raised on a pedestal, admired as a flawless being, but here, he just realises, this wretched man sees him as he was in truth, as Loki sees him, as the brother he loves him. The Thor he knows exists for this man. And that makes Loki feel less alone, and grateful to him. A sensation long missed like air after a dive.

So he sits down on the other coach to listen, because he feels in debt.

And as Tony's disorganised, slurred, half-awake blabbers go on and retell the memories Loki has just witnessed as an outsider, he grows aware of how similar their pain is. How similar their helpless, senseless, still stubbornly scorching rage is against the unalterable. For this moment, he sees that a being this much measlier than a god harbours passion of the same magnitude as himself.

"You're very broken, Anthony," he concludes.

"Broken? I'm shattered. Haven't been in this many pieces since my first crack at high school."

"I've noticed that falling apart is a common habit of earthlings. But isn't it time to man up again already? I reckon it's been three years."

The human bursts out:

"I faced May!" he roars, a fist hitting the backrest while he sits up, feet landing on the floor. "I faced the kid's aunt! I did! I didn't back out! Isn't that enough?"

Loki knows no kid or aunt, but he sees the shiver run through the man's body, and he knows that the act he speaks about was something out of his boundaries.

"How is that not a shitload more than enough?" Tony weeps. And weeps. And Loki sits over to hold his miserable, stinking carcass, because the shards threaten to fall apart, and because this little human has lost an entire world like Loki did, and he sees Thor the way Loki does, and he used to wield skills enough to be a threat for him, and now nothing that's tangible about him is really him, he is nothing to this world, he has lost his ties and he belongs nowhere among the hands reaching for him blindly, he is nothing, nothing real to anyone, just like Loki. Only Loki has learnt how to be this nothing, and this man has yet to brave it. He still talks about the remaining humans like he matters.

"It is," Loki lets him know. "So the toil is over. The next step is to stand up."

The response is a snarl:

"What for, genius?"

The general denseness of humans keeps surprising the sorcerer. Fifteen hundred years, and he still can't see the qualities Thor used to praise in them. But he's very adaptive, so his tone doesn't reveal his honest curiosity.

"What else will you spend the rest of your life with? Or do you consider it an option to sit and mope? No chance of looking around for something more entertaining you could spend all these years with?"

The silence stretches long before Tony answers.

"God, you're appalling. I hate you."

Loki tells the lack of resistance in the answer, and he pats the back of the man's neck.

"Time to take on the world."

"No, stay a bit. I'm... off-balance. In my sitting, too. I'll fall off of here without a prop."

So they stay like that, motionless.

"How much longer?" Loki inquires after a minute.

"Little bit."

"I'll take you myself," he decides, but Tony's answer stops his movement.

"Nothing more to lose, so I'll be honest. I’m shitting bricks now. Don't think I'm ready to face anyone who knew me, which practically includes all of humanity."

"You never will be," Loki assures him from personal experience. And he watches the man's profile, until he inhales deeply and stirs into motion under the gaze.

He walks steadier than he claimed, his head bent. Loki holds his shoulders with an arm while they find the way out. Approaching the main entrance, a flick of his free wrist camouflages the smell and unkempt appearance of the billionaire.

"Sunglasses too," Tony mumbles. His wish is fulfilled.

Then the door slides aside, and they step out into the blinding sunlight.

Part 2

[im-basically-logan]

Comfortably Pushing Boundaries: part 4

Previous - Next -- Beginning

so... it’s been a while huh? I actually had part 5 done before this but decided there needed to be another chapter in between actually. so part 5 should be out in less than a few days I hope. also this is a bit longer than the other parts i hope you dont mind ^^;; (mostly to make up for lost time)

Summary: Logan decides that it’d be best to watch Virgil as his wound heals so he won’t scratch it open. Nice little shenanigans follow.

Words: 2,589

Ship: Platonic Analogical

TW: mentions of wrapping a wound

send me an ask/message if i’ve missed something

Genre: Fluff

@alien-atmosphere @your-dark-strange-son  @living-on-the-virge   @crowsketches  @nokatai-realm  @generalfandomfabulousness @michealawithana  @robanilla  @freepaperie081  @mirror2thespirit  @today-only-happens-once  @lallide  (url changed i think)

When Virgil woke up he almost forgot about the plastic wrapped arm until he heard it rustling when he eventually got out of his bed. Logan had told him not to scratch it, but it was really itchy! So many things were already irritating it he might as well just give it a little nick.

And then Logan popped in, as if on queue, with arms crossed and probably ready to tackle Virgil before he thought about scratching at his wound.

“Oh! Hey… Logan,” Virgil said, putting down his right arm, the burnt one, and waved with his left. “Did you really wait til I was awake to tell me not to pick my burn?”

“Well, no. You usually wake up after all of us and I was actually coming to replace the plastic wrap with an actual bandage,” Logan explained, gesturing to Virgil’s arm. The sleeve was pulled down over it but little strands of ripped plastic could still be seen.

“Alright then, Doc.” Logan huffed in amusement at the nickname, then brought Virgil down to the kitchen after grabbing the bottle of aloe vera.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton waved at Virgil with a butter knife. Roman waved silently in greeting, currently downing toast and eggs. “How’s your burn doing?”

As Virgil returned the hello’s, Logan placed his hand on the counter near the sink and pulled his sleeve up to his bicep.

“Better, I think. Logan’s gonna replace the wrapping and medicine.” Logan gently took off the wrapping, exposing the blistered skin. It was less red at the moment, but still clearly there.

“Sorry again about this, kiddo,” Patton apologized, looking over Virgil’s wound himself.

Virgil shook his head. “It’s fine, Patton, really. I should’ve been more careful, y’know?” Patton sighed but gave a nod. Logan had been silently wrapping Virgil’s burn and in a few short moments he successfully applied the aloe to it and bandaged up.

“I believe supervising you on your itching tendencies is an order,” Logan said, making Roman snort from the table.

“Awww, Logaaaan. I’m not a child!” Virgil replied, sounding exactly like a complaining child. As he pulled his newly wrapped arm from the counter, he put it in his jacket pocket. “I’m not gonna scratch at it, okay?”

Logan shook his head. “Judging by how, as you put it, “taking your hand hostage”, went last night, I think looking over your actions with your burn will be beneficial.” Virgil opened his mouth to protest before hearing Patton and Roman say something along the lines of “I agree!” and he promptly shut up. All of them cared for him too much, but he wouldn’t try to fight it.

“Well, lovelies, I am off to adventure!” Roman announced after putting his plate in the sink, leaving to his room. Patton waved a goodbye and put the last few dishes in the sink as well.

“I left a few pancakes for you, Virge!” He called as he sunk out himself. “Remember to keep watch, Lo.” Logan smirked with a nod of satisfaction, Virgil groaning dramatically.

Logan watched Virgil like a hawk throughout the day after breakfast and Virgil didn’t scratch his burn at all. Successfully anyway. If he went to go for it, Logan gently slapped his hand away. Although this was the case, Virgil was probably just as stubborn as Logan. At one point in the day he had bolted from the commons just to get away from him.

“Virgil! Don’t you dare!” Logan had shouted, catching up to Virgil as he awkwardly rubbed through the frabric-y material of the bandage. The material had effectively stopped him from itching at the burn too much, but now it was red around the wrapping, irritated and probably even more itchy than before. Virgil looked up to see Logan coming over in quick, long strides.

“I didn’t scratch it that much, okay?” Virgil put his hands up in mock defense as Logan stopped in front of him, a scolding look on his face. Logan took his free hand and dragged Virgil back to the couch in the common room. He then began to distract the other by reading aloud and having them both do puzzles together. It went rather nicely, actually, and he didn’t try to run again

“No no no, that line goes there!” Virgil said, pointing at Logan’s phone as he played Flow. It was a difficult level with 15 “flows” that needed to be connected. Logan obliged and the rest of the puzzle was a piece of cake.

“Good one,” Logan said, seeing Virgil’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. Normally, Logan would have been in his room for most of the day, but Virgil’s situation kept him occupied. Although, being the logical side, Logan had various schedules done, scripts edited, and ideas from Roman sorted through days and even weeks in advance. It was no wonder he seemed overworked all the time.

They went through a few more levels before one finally got them stuck, then moved onto another app. Despite Virgil being mostly behind Logan, he could feel whenever Virgil tried to scratch his burn. It wasn’t even worth trying since the bandage was in the way, but Virgil attempted it anyway. Logan took Virgil’s free hand in his lap, the situation similar to the night before, and opened up another app.

“Actually…” Virgil began awkwardly, making Logan pause. “Y’think you could maybe… erm...” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He asked, coaxing the anxious side to continue.

“Just… talk? Not reading or anything but just… talk,” Virgil eventually finished, averting his gaze from Logan’s. Logan put his phone down, laying it down gently onto the coffee table in front of them.

“That’s fine, Virgil. If it’ll distract you,” Logan said, smiling a half-smile at Virgil in reassurance. “What would you like me to talk about?”

“Um… whatever you want I guess?” Logan thought for a moment and looked downwards as he selected a subject.

“What about robots and chemistry?” He suggested.

“Sure, I’ll be listening.” Virgil relaxed, leaning back on the couch with his free hand still in Logan’s grasp. Logan leaned back as well, glancing at the ceiling as he started his lesson.

“Personally, I find robots amazing. Not all robots are the stereotypical metal, humanoid things we usually think of. It can be beings created with chains of code, or a robot made to play Snake, or even a robot whose soul purpose is to make you think they are a human.” Virgil was actually interested at this point and Logan being so passionate was a nice change of pace. He knew the other didn’t get to spill his thoughts out a lot so it was a pleasant experience for the both of them.

“I saw a video recently about an A.I. that taught itself how to create jazz music, it was rather intriguing. Admittedly, the music wasn’t that good but some runs of it sounded coherent. Also robots trying to do mundane tasks is very entertaining, just ask Patton.” Logan paused, a little grin growing on his lips.

“Many videos depict metal hands trying to pour water or a whole body just trying to walk which usually results in failure. It really puts into perspective how hardworking humans can be because we go back and try to fix those mistakes.”

Virgil nodded and smiled as Logan kept going. This was a good distraction.

“You said something about talking about chemistry earlier?” Virgil asked, tilting his head. Logam nodded quickly and changed the subject immediately.

“Yes, I find it amazing how one little change of the amount of protons in an atom makes it entirely different. Mercury and gold, for example, are very different and yet only one proton apart. Gold has a melting point of about 1 thousand degrees celsius which is… approximately 2 thousand degrees fahrenheit, give or take a couple hundred degrees. Converting larger numbers from celsius to fahrenheit quickly can be inaccurate.” He paused at Virgil’s open-mouthed, shocked expression.

“How… how did you convert it that quickly?”

“Well it’s an estimate formula, but you take the degrees celsius, multiply it by two and add thirty. With a little rounding for larger quantities.”

Virgil shook his head. “Too much math for me, personally.” Logan chuckled in amusement.

“Well, anyway. Gold has a very high melting point, yes? But mercury on the other hand has a melting point of negative 39 degrees celsius or about negative 45 degrees fahrenheit.” Once again Virgil’s mouth was open in shock.

“Negative degrees?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “Isn’t that like… really cold.”

“Yes, well, mercury is a liquid at room temperature. One of the only metals to have this odd property, in fact. I suppose gallium is close since it can melt in the palm of your hand.”

“That’s… actually pretty cool.” Logan smirked, feeling proud of himself.

Logan shared a bit more about mercury and other elements. His favorite was iodine apparently.

--

The routine became second nature to Logan: Change Virgil’s bandages and aloe then either he or one of the others distract Virgil for the day. Despite Virgil’s constant whining about being supervised, it was actually rather nice bonding time. Logan watched him for most of the week and the burn had healed gradually within about 5 days.

“It’s not itchy anymore,” Virgil said as Logan took the wrap off for the last time. “Thanks, Lo.”

“You’re welcome, Virgil. I’m glad it healed so quickly.”

“Me too.” Virgil chuckled and after Logan threw the bandage into the garbage, Patton threw himself onto Virgil for a hug.

“Me too, kiddo! So glad you’re all better!” Patton squealed. Roman, who was just behind Patton, gave Virgil a comforting pat on the shoulder after Patton broke off from the embrace.

“Don’t burn yourself again, you hear me? You had us all worried and fussing for a week--”

“It was 5 days--”

“--nonetheless, I’m also grateful that you are better.” Roman shot Virgil a sincere smile and Virgil timidly smiled back. They all left to their respective rooms, occasionally returning to the commons as usual, and went on with the rest of their day.

The next day, Logan forgot that Virgil’s wound had healed and just casually went into Virgil’s room to change his non-existent bandaging.

“Logan? My burn’s gone now, remember?” Virgil said groggily, sitting up in his bed.

Logan blinked, becoming a little flustered with himself. “Oh, I apologize. It had just become so second nature for me to come in and take you to the kitchen…” Virgil waved his hand, still clearly tired but he didn’t seem to mind the other’s company.

“It’s chill. I’d say that you can stay a while, but y’know how my room is.”

“Alright, just come to my room if you need me.” Then Logan left and although he hid it well, he still felt a bit embarrassed by his mistake.

A few hours passed and Virgil ended up in Logan’s room with a plate of cookies.

“‘Atton shed to vring theesh ‘o ya,” Virgil said as he was eating a cookie himself.

“Please don’t speak with your mouth full,” Logan replied, reaching out for the plate. “But thank you. I’ll go thank him later.”

“I um…” Virgil swallowed his cookie and cleared his throat. “I was wondering if I could stay for a while actually. Not just for the cookies, obviously. Pat gave me a plate earlier.” He scratched the back of his neck. Logan, who had just set the plate down on a table, turned his head with a surprisingly comforting glance.

“You don’t have to ask, Virgil. You’ve done it before, after all,” Logan said. “Anyways, would you like to be in the library setting?”

“Sure…”

“Alright.” Within an instant the room became a library once more, book shelves making their way into the scene and familiar furniture forming in the center. The plate of cookies had conveniently been shifted from Logan’s usual table to the coffee table in the library.

“Would you like something specific to do? I also have a few audio books to recommend you if you’d like.” Logan took a cookie from the plate as he spoke, taking a seat in his chair. “Also feel free to sit in the other chair and not under the table.”

Virgil rolled his eyes in a lighthearted manner, making his way over to the chair Logan referred to. He sat on the chair’s arm, which was close enough on the actual chair at this point.

“Um… I dunno. Just chillin’ with you is cool.” Virgil fiddled about with his thumbs, looking down at his thighs.

“Are you sure? It’s fine whatever you chose.” Logan took a bite of his cookie as he spoke, covering his mouth with his free hand as he munched.

Looking back up at Logan, Virgil replied,”Actually… maybe we can listen to music? Anything you want.” Logan took a few moments to reply, making sure he wouldn’t be sputtering with the treat in his mouth.

“That sounds rather peaceful, would you like to listen through earbuds or a speaker?”

“Earbuds.”

Virgil had beaten Logan to it, grabbing a pair from his jacket pocket. Logan took out his phone, pulling up Youtube and picking a playlist full of instrumentals. Specifically, many classical pieces but also other more modern ones containing ukulele, piano, and other calming instruments. Virgil got up from his perch, handing Logan his earbuds before realizing the situation.

“I umm… I could sit on the floor?” He said, gesturing to the small size of Logan’s chair.

“Nonsense, I’ll just make the chair longer. This is my room after all and while Roman can conjure many things outside of his room, we can do many things ourselves in our respective realms.”

“Oh right… I guess the uh… the cognitive distortion thing made me forget.” Virgil was jumping to conclusions again, like he always did. But he was trying to get better.

“It seemed to. Anyway…” Logan snapped two fingers together and the chair had turned into a couch, the cushions seeming a bit softer than before and two pillows added on either end. “Sit down on the actual cushions for optimal earbud sharing, if you will.” Virgil obliged, properly sitting on the couch for once on one end and placed his arm on the arm rest. Logan followed soon after, sitting somewhat close to Virgil. “Would you mind if I sat closer like how we sometimes do?”

The physical contact was nice but Virgil had never liked initiating it-- it felt like he was taking something without permission. “Um, yeah, go ahead.”

So Logan did, moving on the couch directly next to Virgil, legs touching. He plugged in the earbuds to his phone, handing Virgil one of them. Logan put the other in his own ear and pressed play.

They sat in silence for a while, perhaps a few hours, as the music played. Many songs later, the plate of cookies was empty with nothing but crumbs and traces of chocolate. Virgil had his eyes closed, but was still awake, and leaned against the couch. He seemed relaxed. Logan had given himself a book to silently read, the music being a nice accompaniment.

There was a small intermission of sorts when Logan eventually left Virgil to put the plate away, he returned shortly after, getting back into place next to Virgil and continuing to read and listen to music.

“Thanks, Logan… again,” Virgil said modestly, almost a mumble, but Logan heard it.

“You’re very welcome Virgil, as always.”

[artificialqueens]

Love me tender - Part Two (Shalaska/Pearlet), by Lavish

A/N: The long overdue second chapter. I am extremely sorry this took so long. Thank you to everyone who filled my askbox with questions about this fic even after so long. I love each and every one of you. Xo, Lavish.

Coming home was always a drag for Alaska. She never really left her office downtown before 7 pm, and still had a long drive back to the suburbs. Tom had talked her into living in Manhattan Beach, explicitly because it would be best to raise their kids in a safe, children-appropriate area. Young and in love, Alaska had accepted without even thinking twice. Now, stuck in traffic on a Friday night, with no kids, and wondering what take out service to call, it didn’t feel so great to have splurged in such a big house far away from her job. Nevertheless, she never really made the effort to escape Manhattan Beach. Alaska knew to select which battles to fight. Lately, she had been choosing much more than she’d like. She looked out of the window, analyzing the people on the sidewalks to pass the time. Since it was just the beginning of the weekend, the streets were packed. A roaring sound of chatter and laughter made its way inside the car from the people sat outside bars, already too drunk to care for politeness or tone. Alaska couldn’t help but smile. Not long ago, she was one of them. At this moment, she couldn’t really put a finger on the last time she went out. The red light turned green, and gripping the wheel with both of her hands, Alaska followed ahead, tired of feeling shitty about herself. She was a grown woman, who was able to not only fix her life but others as well. That was the main reason she’d gone to Law School in the first place. She was a helper, a giver, never a taker. Alaska always took better care of others than of herself. She allowed her mind run back to the meeting earlier, marveling in the story of the three individuals. She thought of Violet, still a young girl, having to make the tough choice of raising her baby or giving up a life she created. She thought of Matt, poor Matt, who seemed so scared to let their kid go to other hands, but also very afraid of losing Violet to his selfishness. Lastly, Alaska thought of Sharon, the beautiful nurse. Her belly fluttered with familiar butterflies while she reminisced in the memory of her voice and the warm touch of her hands. It was hard to concentrate on traffic. Alaska decided to call the one person she knew who was an all time fool and yet lovable. She selected the phone icon on her car screen and pressed the first contact. “Go for Cory.” His voice resonated through the speaker. The sound of it made her body relax, and Alaska felt the muscles of her shoulders start to detangle. “Hey, dork.” “Oh, my! Is this… is this Alaska? I once heard a tale about this mystical creature but I never knew one could get in touch with aliens so easily! How’s planet Glamtron?” Her brother joked in false awe, and she sensed no traces of resent in his speech. True, it’d been a while since they talked, but Cory made her feel closer to him everytime they spoke. A smile spread across her face and Alaska heard herself cackling, the sound resonating in the car. “How have you been, sis?” “Same old. I’m doing ok, I actually picked up a great case today.” She stopped at another red light and took her time watching the passers by. “There’s this teen couple, the girl is 6 months pregnant… She wants to give the baby up but the father is just not taking it. He won’t tell her tho, the poor thing is scared. And guess who’s adopting? Oh yes, the most beautiful nurse who ever lived.” “Ooooh, somebody’s got the hots for the nurse! Guess she’ll be….. licking your wounds very soon, what up?” Alaska scoffed and tried to contain a fit of laughter. She heard Cory’s snorting through the line. “You are so gross, oh my God. But no, she will not be licking anything, as I am a married lady and she’s a mom to be, so suck it.” “I know who you want to su…” “THAT’S ENOUGH FOR THIS CONVERSATION. I hope you don’t kiss our mom with that mouth, ugh.” She pressed on the accelerator, watching the parade of cars ahead finally start to move. Thankfully, she was halfway through the journey already. “Yeah, right. But really, Lask, stay cool. Also, send me a picture of her next time you see her. I would like to know what this lady looks like if she’s messing with your head like that.” “Maybe in the next life.” She took a left, breathing in deeply before talking again. “Hey, we should get lunch sometime. Wanna join me tomorrow?” “Hamburger Mary’s?” “Deal. You’re paying. Byeee!” She hung up before he could protest, a smile still accompanying her on the travel home. ———————————————————————————– Alaska arrived to an empty, dark house. There were traces of her husband’s entrance. His suit jacket was carefully folded on their L shaped couch, a cup of scotch half full sat on the coffee table, and his briefcase stood at a perfect 90º angle by the wall. It was all too meticulous like it was all a video game scenario. Nothing smelled like him, nothing seemed like he had got in with the intents to stay. By the door frame, a note. “Went to tennis practice with the guys. Don’t wait up. Love, T.” Alaska took a deep breath, expecting anger or sadness to wash over her. That something would cross her mind and ignite a more natural feeling than the utter relief she felt to know he wasn’t home. She sat down, defeated, kicking off her high heels. What was happening? Not too long ago she knew she would’ve been pissed. She would’ve called, asked him why he wasn’t home, she’d chase him down, even offer to tag along and play a match. But when you chase after someone for too long, the enchantment just fades away. You get worn out, you look for ways not to step on their toes because you simply don’t bother. Instead, all the anger flutters when you’re together, when you have to stand someone’s presence and the quirks you thought you’d learned to love. She motioned towards the kitchen and checked the clock for the first time since she’d entered. 9:23. She figured it was ok to have dinner, since Tom wouldn’t be back so soon. The club he played only closed at 11, and he was never one to leave early or leave a game unfinished. She picked out carrots, peas, cheese and two eggs, opting for an omelet. She found some left overs from the night before, and decided to leave them for when he arrived. Alaska went back to her pondering while the skillet heated, the only thing hot enough in the sterile, cold house she never called home anymore. Alaska found herself escaping any contact to avoid conflict. She didn’t even manage guilt to surface. She felt nothing about her relationship, save for some neediness here and there. Hot tears spiked her eyes, frustration the only thing to actually take over. Her marriage fell apart and she didn’t bother. Salty tears insisted on jumping off her eyes, making her dinner even more depressing. Her food was tasteless, despite her best efforts to season it. She felt pathetic, eating alone with most of the lights out. Still with a heavy stream cascading down her cheeks, she collected her belongings and headed upstairs to her bedroom. Not even her bed, decorated with cream and white pillows and bedding, looked that inviting. She opted to fill her tub with warm water and rose-smelling bubbles. Watching the steam rising from the water finally made soothed her, and the warmth of the room decorated her cheeks with a pink flush. She cut the stream of tears, wiping the rest of them before letting down her hair from the low bun she’d made. The strands brushed her shoulders, tickling the soft skin of her neck. It had always been her favorite thing to pamper herself. Shimmying out of her trousers and finally getting rid of her collared shirt, Alaska felt as if she was peeling off worries of her body. She could launder them later - both worries and clothes. For now, she just wanted to enjoy a calm bubble bath. After stripping off her underwear, she climbed into the hot water. The knots of her muscles untangled instantly, and her heartbeat finally slowed down. She didn’t know how long it’d been since it’d been racing. She reached a long arm out, extending it towards her phone. There was one call from Tom and 3 messages from an unknown number. She decided to call her husband first. She was sent to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I’m home, just taking a bath. There’s dinner in the fridge. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” She softened her voice, remembering the end of his note. “Love you too.” She hung up fast, as if she was afraid of her own words. Again, pathetic. Cursing under her breath, she unlocked her device and read the messages. [20:58] Hi, Alaska, this is Sharon! We met earlier today. Listen, I was wondering if we could set up a meeting before Friday, there are some things I would like to discuss with you on the side. Beer’s on me! Xx [21:02] Also I may or may not have willingly downloaded ‘Love Me Tender’ and a bunch of other Elvis tunes and put them in a pen drive for you, so when you come around at the hospital they’ll be our jams. [21:02] Ok, now I’m done. Let me know when our little meeting will go down! Alaska nearly dropped her phone. Her eyes were wider than an apple pie, and a surprised smile occupied the place her frown had been moments ago. She typed in an answer, scared her runny, wet fingers may let her phone slip. [21:49] I can’t believe you! Going as far as actually occupying disk memory in your computer with these songs can only mean one thing… [21:49] You either really really like ancient songs OR (which is highly more likely) you are determined to kiss my ass continuously until you get guard on this child lol kudos on the effort tho!! And yes, we shall meet again. I’ll be downtown again tomorrow to have lunch w my brother, would you like to meet me after? Alaska hit send before she could regret it. She knew it’d be odd in the least to meet a client during the weekend, but then again, it was Sharon who proposed it in the first place. Granted, they did have to discuss matters on the child and make sure she was ready to welcome a baby into her home and her life, so there had a lot of explaining and planning to do. Alaska clung to that idea, repeating to herself she was not taking her newest client on a date. Her ethic manners screamed at her heart, condemning how fast it beat waiting for an answer. She decided to focus on her bath and relax, putting away her phone to clear off her head. Sometimes, she felt it necessary to just be out of thoughts, feelings and memory. She appreciated the numbness and oblivion of moments like these. Alaska sunk deeper inside her tub, allowing the water to cover her pale body from head to toe. She stayed down, in her nest of warmth, until her lungs begged for breath. She lost track of time, distracting herself with the bubbles dancing around her toes. Only when the water turned cold and her fingers looked like raisings she stepped off. Alaska took her time drying off her skin, covering every inch she could reach with lotion, and blow-drying her blonde locks. Finally, she took her phone and wrapped herself in a robe, tucking herself into her bed. There were 6 texts and 1 missed call from Sharon. Alaska smiled before she even opened them up. [21:50] Why I do like them very much alaska! I’ll tell you all abt my fascinating taste in music tomorrow then, text me where we’ll meet [21:50] Also yes there will be a lot of kissing alright if its up to me [21:55] fuck why did I say that I don’t know where it came from [21:55] I thought you’d find it funny oh my god IM SORRY [21:55] can you believe I’m a nurse being this dumb [21:55] UGHHHHHHHHHHHH IM SORRY Alaska was a little ball of laughter, shaking with the motion of her wheezing. Sharon’s slight panic reminded her of an excited puppy who got so happy and agitated they end up tripping on their own paws. It was adorable and just made Alaska want to see her more. She entered her response quickly, feeling her body warm inside and out, and her lids heavy. [22:17] chill girl! I was just taking a bath, but its totally okay She thought about what to say next. Alaska felt confused, like she was betraying her own sense of dignity by feeling this attracted and lured by another woman while she was still married. But what was her marriage anyways, besides a contract bonding two people who were nothing alike? She felt like she’d just had a taste of what fun felt like, and she wanted more. She wanted the opportunity to know different people and try new things. Alaska wanted to chase this new feeling and courage, even if it led nowhere, or if it wouldn’t be with Sharon. She just needed the opportunity and she’d been granted with one, it was only up to her what to do next. [22:18] I’ll hold you to those promises!! See you tmrrw xo The feeling of accomplishment that overcame her just from those daring words was enough to bring a calm, well slept night, one she hadn’t had in forever. Just before she was taken by Orpheus and went into the peacefulness of slumber, she saw very clearly the colorful imagery her subconscious had fabricated. She distinguished two frames, both tall and slender, with soft curves on their hips and torso. Two women. One of them had hair of gold, a reflective shine only blondes exhibit. The other one had rosy lips and hair of ebony. They were happy, she could tell. There was something else, a third form she couldn’t identify at first. It was small and heavy – it had to be held with both arms. Upon further looking, shapes formed. A pair of shining, chocolate brown eyes. Very little hair framing rosy cheeks, and a tiny, round mouth. It seemed fragile and small, and now it was easy to decipher. The blonde lady held a perfect baby in her arms.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ for the Anon who prompted (paraphrased):

Genderfluid!Daisy getting drunk and trying to come out to their partner(s)

For the ship of my choice I decided to try my hand at some TripDaisy, and while I don’t think it came out (*ba dum tsh*) as fluffy as you may have intended, I hope the mild angst/hurt/comfort/fluff blend is satisfying :) Hope you like it!

Read on AO3 (~1300wd). Rated light T.

-

now take a hold of your soul

The small club buzzed with life as Daisy Johnson sat at the bar, casually nursing a lemonade as she looked around for someone she was expecting. She beamed when, at last, she saw Trip enter at the other end of the room. As he passed the tables and the dance floor, looking for her, the strobing pink and green lights shone richly on his dark skin, and on his white teeth that shone across the room at her when he beamed back. He opened his arms as he got close, and Daisy slid off her seat, waving for their first round of drinks before embracing him with a kiss.

“Congratulations!” she called, over the music. “You did a great job today! So glad to see you’re finally getting some recognition!”

“You know what they say though,” Trip said, brushing her off, although his humble smile glowed. “Behind every great man is a woman –“

“Shoving him full of congratulatory drinks?” Daisy suggested, holding up one shot for herself, and one for him. “The first one’s the good stuff. It gets more budget after that ‘cause I’m not made of money, but cheers!”

Trip laughed. “Cheers!”

They tapped their glasses together and threw the shots back, and then Daisy pointed a finger at the jukebox. Someone she’d paid earlier dropped a selection, and the iconic 80s drumbeats filled the bar.

“Ooh!” Trip called. “This is my jam!”

Daisy laughed. She’d never met a man with more jams than Trip, and the enthusiasm with which he beckoned her out onto the dancefloor was enough to draw the attention of half the bar. With eyes on them, Trip leaned into it, pretending to throw a lasso around her and pull her toward him before both of them launched into a semi-co-ordinated dance. Whether it was nostalgia or infectious enthusiasm, Daisy was pleased to find that the rest of the crowd got in on the action with ease. Dancing, singing, and eventually, karaoke, made for an even better night than Daisy had planned, and by the time she and Trip had retired to one of the booths – both tipsy, sweaty, and breathing hard – she was riding a high of sugar, alcohol, and endorphins.

“Love you,” she murmured, cuddling into his chest even though they had the whole booth to themselves. “’m proud of you. You know that? You are bad. Ass.”

“Well, thank you, I am,” Trip agreed, turning his glass between his fingers with pride and a little drunkenness swelling his chest. “That’s why we make a perfect pair.”

“Shux.” Daisy grinned a slow, lazy grin, and lay her chin on her hands on the table. She was drunk enough to feel warm, and Trip’s hand was strolling over her back, and if she sunk any further into relaxation, she reckoned, she’d soon start purring like a cat. The sugar high was wearing off, for now. Either that, or she was ascending a level of drunkenness. Probably both, as the still-dancing crowd seemed to blur in time and colour before her eyes. “Geez, how are those guys still going?”

Trip laughed. “When did you turn into such an old granny?”

“The body is willing,” Daisy explained. “The 5am starts are not.”

“Oh, shit, May’s gonna freak –“ Trip very nearly giggled, and Daisy giggled too, her nose crinkling as she did.

“Nah, I got tomorrow off. Gotta treat my man to a proper congratulations!” She slapped his chest – slowly, drunkenly, fluidly and inaccurately – in praise. Then fell into it, and settled there, her face a little mashed into his chest, where she whispered: “Damn, you’re ripped.”

“Oh, you like that?” Trip raised one of his arms, showing off his guns to Daisy, who poked it with a finger.

“You have really nice muscles,” she said. “And a nice face. And a nice ass.”

“Damn right,” Trip agreed. “And I think this ass wants to get us some water, hm?”

“Hate to watch you walk away,” Daisy agreed, mashing the saying into one. Trip headed back to the bar, dancing so that his hips gyrated exaggeratedly, and Daisy, true to her word, watched. By the time he had fetched the jug of water and returned though, the alcohol and the sugar crash and the warped way that time worked when she was drunk - and that time being spent alone – was bringing Daisy down, fast. The smile had faded from her face and she stared at the blue liquid that was her cocktail, as if she could see straight through it to something that still, somehow, meant nothing. Trip swapped the cocktail out for a glass of water and Daisy looked up at him: part of her still distant, but part of her surprised. Maybe even surprised that he’d come back.

“Do you think I’m a freak?” she asked.

“Nah, man,” Trip insisted. “I mean, only in the good ways.”

Daisy snorted derisively, and took a swig of the water, and pulled a face. She’d been looking forward to restoring the sugar high, but she knew water was better for now.

“They’re all bad ways,” she said. “I never fit.”

“Hey, the way things are going, if everyone fit, the world would be a way worse place,” Trip pointed out. “And besides – you fit with some people. The important people. You fit with me, right?”

Daisy sighed.

“I don’t know.”

Trip frowned. He shifted his seat, moving back to Daisy’s side and pulling her into his arms.

“Hey, now, where’s this coming from?” he crooned. “You and me are good, girl. Don’t get down on yourself about that. There’s plenty else in the world to worry about, but not that.”

Daisy shook her head.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

“Always.”

“Sometimes… I don’t always feel like girl. Which is crazy because like, I don’t even know what feeling like a girl is supposed to feel like – like that’s crazy, right, how is that a thing – but like… I feel like I just know sometimes. I’m wrong.”

“No,” Trip assured her. “You’re not wrong, Daisy. You’re here. Your existence... is what it is, but it's not wrong. You matter, no matter what. Hey. How long have you been feeling like this?” Daisy shrugged.

“I dunno. My whole life, I guess. I thought it would go away when I found out all the Inhuman stuff but it never really did. It’s just what I am. Just another freaky layer to the freak onion that is my life.”

Trip squeezed her in a hug, kissed her hair and whispered in her ear: “I love the freak onion. Don’t you forget it. And you know, you’re not alone. There’s words for people like you.”

“Yeah, -“

“Nice words,” Trip interrupted, before she could start on a list.

Daisy pouted. “If you start spouting some cheesy shit like ‘hero’ or something I’m getting a cab.”

“You are a hero, whether you like it or not,” Trip pointed out, “but that’s not what I meant. I mean, there’s a whole bunch of people out there who don’t feel like they’re what they were born as -”

“I’m not-“ Daisy started, but Trip didn’t let her cut him off.

“- and some of those people only feel it some of the time. Like, there’s this thing called ‘genderfluid.’ I don’t remember much about it, it came up in Group once, but it’s pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it? Must be where your gender, is like… fluid.”

Daisy took a long drink of water. Trip took this as a reminder, and poured himself one too. And they started again.

“Gender…fluid…” Daisy murmured, pulling out her phone and googling the term. She squinted at some of the articles through her drunkenness. “That’s cool. Lots of gender binary bullshit though. You sure it’s really a thing?”

“Yeah. If you read what people actually talk about, people who experience it, a lot of it sounds like what you said just now. I mean, maybe consider again it when it’s not 2am and we’re not pretty heavily inn—in—well, drunk.” He laughed at himself. “But I’m pretty sure it’s a thing.”

“And – and I mean if it is,” Daisy put forward. “You don’t mind?”

“Look, I’ve revealed a lot of things I’ve regretted at 2am DNMs,” Trip said, “so if you wake up tomorrow and want to forget this whole thing, that’s fine. But if you follow the trail and it means something, I’m here for you. Names, pronouns, the whole shtick if you want.”

“Thanks, but I mean for you,” Daisy pressed. “For us. I mean, if I’m not a girl all the time – that sort of means you’re… not straight all the time.”

Trip shrugged.

“I’m easy, girl. Man. Whichever.” He grinned. “And if it turns out I swing more ways than I thought I did yesterday then that’s fine with me.”

He leaned back against the seat, smooth as a player, with a falsely self-aggrandising grin that, gradually, coaxed a smile out of Daisy at last. Then, more sincerely, he reached for her hand and looked into her eyes.

“Look, Daisy, you’ve always been special,” he said. “You’re an orphan with a family. You’re a human alien. You’re a hero, but you’re also an oxymoron, and that doesn’t mean you’re a freak. Not in a bad way. It just means you were never going to fit in someone’s neat little boxes, and that’s okay. ‘Specially since, you know, ticking boxes - you’re doing that left right and centre, as far as I’m concerned.”

Daisy groaned silently, but she was still smiling.

“I tick your boxes? That’s what you’re going with?”

Trip nodded, a sparkle of mischief back in his eyes as he became satisfied that the worst of Daisy’s drunken despair had passed.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’ll be here all week.”

Daisy rolled her eyes.

“Shut up and drink your water, babe,” she said, and she drank too.

[detectiverickitubbs]

Stealing Kisses: Crockett X Tubbs

@afourletterwordfordirt

To Ricki, Sonny Crockett was the sum of all things that could be missed. He was the cool caress of the breeze on a dreadfully hot summer day, the rain in the middle of a scorching desert, the azure-skies during torrential rainfalls, and the absence of a beacon from a lighthouse, which, usually provides safe passage of ships in the night. He was the wonderful concoction of scents. He often smelt like tobacco, cologne, sweat, day-old-shampoo-jobs, gun-powder residue, salty-ocean spray, and fish.

Sonny was effortlessly gorgeous, not in a feminine manner of course, but rather this rough, callous, sand-papery, roguish, and muscular way. His skin-tone was this fabulous shade of warm honey mixed with copper; the sort of color that could instantly melt one's heart. His hair was that of dirty sand mixed with the soft buttery glow of golden sunshine. The fluffy strands had slight waves to them, that if grown long enough, could be mistaken for being wild like the tangles of greenery within the everglades. Sonny's greenish-turquoise eyes could rival the majesty of the endless oceans crested with frothing foam. The two pools happened to be blessed with the ocean's incredibly relentless depths and as a result it was nearly impossible not to desire complete submergence within them. On rare occasions, Ricki could swear that they held the twinkling of the scorching Miami sun within their precious confines, just as criminals guard their shadowy empires and wealth inside mansions. His mighty jaw-line was something of a marvel in, and of, itself. When it was relaxed, it appeared flawless and smooth despite the stubble that collected there when he didn't shave. However, when Crockett was livid, one twitch of the powerful muscles tucked within the corners of his well-shaped face could send shudders up and down Tubbs's spine. For she had come to fear him just as deeply as she respected him.

Sonny could be as unpredictable as, the paths of a thousand bolts of lightning shooting forth from a large Tesla coil. He had the capacity to be the tranquil silence after the passing of a severe storm, the brooding melancholy of some miserable midnight hour, and the tired sigh at the end of a passion-filled statement. Her partner was a fractured kaleidoscope, a shattered pane of once splendid stained glass. Still, Ricki found him more breathtaking than all of the world's greatest treasures. Crockett had earned his place in her heart by being the most incredibly charming and sarcastic-witted genius, whose rare but genuine smiles and giggles, could send Ricki reeling into endless spurts of laughter. The uproarious kind of outburst that could not be dissolved until the lungs burned and the tears fell freely from the eyes.

When Ricki originally came to Miami, she had never expected to get so attached to Sonny. Nor had she expected that separation would feel like nothing short of complete suffocation. But it did. My God, it did. The more she thought about him, the deeper the roots of her genuine affection grew. Tubbs had fallen so painfully and irrevocably in love with Sonny, that having her heart cut free from her chest would be a far more tolerable solution than remaining silently loving him, as another was selected to by his side and warm his bed.

She was forever longing for the right moment to express just how deeply and ardently she felt for him with out an opportunity to express it. Fear pent up within the depths of her soul every time she tried to utter the three little words "I love you" in a way that was more than the casual conversational and friendly manner. Why? It was petrifying knowing that she could easily relinquish all rights to her heart and the very depths of her soul to Sonny- only to have it go unrequited. It is the same sickening sensation that overwhelms the senses, when walking along the side of a steep cliff and the loose ground shifts beneath the feet. The electric panic that whisks into the depths of one's soul as one scramble for a place to anchor one's weight, only to find one's self helplessly falling towards the inevitably fatal end. The heart-dropping moment that curls through each and every single nerve as a priceless glass object slips from one's hand and shatters into a million tiny shards on the floor. It was just as strenuous, if not more so, than going blindly into a gunfight. To believe that Sonny could not and would not love her back was far easier than accepting any chance of his rejection.

Uncertainty was the butcher of hopes and dreams, the very thing that drove her from his side. By returning to New York to pursue her modeling career, a part of Ricki believed she was doing Sonny a favor. Tubbs believed that by abandoning the partnership they had built, that she was getting out of the way of his happiness. Ricki intended to give Crockett the freedom to follow whatever path he wished so that he may find the joy, blissful satisfaction, and prosperity he seemed to be searching for. Heavens knew he deserved it. Sonny had suffered greatly and she did not wish to be a cause of further torment to him.

Putting all 1093.57 miles by air and 1,282.08 miles by car between them was also meant to help Ricki get over Sonny. But getting over him was impossible. The thought of not knowing exactly where "they" stood with each other drove her absolutely crazy. Especially, after the "I love yous" were exchanged the night before and then again at the airport. Were they just words that two parting friends exchanged in order to remain amicable? Or had Sonny meant them in the same way, she had expressed hers? Ricki's own musings possessed her the entire time she roamed the streets of New York City.

Crockett was the one person her mind was consumed with whilst in the midst of yellow-taxi packed streets, the choruses of honking horns, swarms of people racing towards unknown destinations, flashing lights, and signs. A sense of familiar and alien-like chaos clouded her mind, as bedlam did the streets of the vivacious city. As she lurked in the cold shadows of endless skyscrapers she found herself disoriented, overwhelmed, and dreadfully alone. It felt like something was horribly amiss every time Ricki found herself observing her lone reflection in the shallow glass of stores, cars, and taxis. Whereas, in Miami her reflection was almost always accompanied by Sonny's. Every piece of her crushing, torn, and bruised heart could tell that it wasn't right.

With almost every step she took deeper into the city, Ricki could practically hear Sonny's gravelly voice uttering sarcastic comments and reactions to the things she was seeing and even hearing. It practically flooded her ears incessantly as if, Crockett had somehow perched himself upon some tiny corner of her shoulder the way consciences do in cartoons. Ricki would occasionally find herself turning to speak to him with "Sonny would you look at that" or "you know Sonny...." or even "did you see that" only to be met with the cold and rather suspicious glances of her fellow New Yorkers. No one would understand the grief that surged through her when she realized that she'd have to navigate this journey alone. Being alone felt so unbelievably cruel.

Her partner had become the one thing that was certain, dependable, and reliable within her life. Without him the mayhem and darkness would come crashing in like waves from a Tsunami and they would not relent until Ricki ended up being pulled under. Wave upon towering wave crashing over her until she was drawn in so deep that her lungs could no longer fathom the idea of air.

As she walked in to the important interview, it abruptly became clear, beyond a reasonable shadow of a doubt, that life without Crockett would be intolerable and insufferable. For without Sonny, Ricki was naught but a wayward foreigner, even in the city that she had called her home for over half of her life. New York in all of it's charms no longer seemed as enticing as it had been when she had first toyed with the idea of returning. Everything seemed devoid of comfort in his absence. It felt as if, she was a black and white photo moving around in a zealous world awash in vivacious colors. And so, like a moth drawn to the flickering flame, Tubbs had once more put New York behind her and headed towards Miami; more correctly, back to Sonny. So that she could return to the life she realized she both wanted and needed.

Ricki now beheld this masculine treasure less than an arms length away. His eyes more stunning than the finest of jewels, even in the shallow light of the hallway. The way the tender glow caressed his face was intoxicatingly enchanting. Especially, when accompanied that dopey ear to ear grin he had worn all day. She couldn't help but feel that it should be considered a punishable offense for anyone to look so attractive bathed in the dingy light. Nothing could cause her gaze to divert away from him when he looked as though he had just walked off the cover of GQ magazine.

There were so many things Ricki wanted to tell him but the words, encompassed in her infinite vocabulary, seemed to slip through her mind like sand through the porous surface of a gold-rush aged sifter. Five amazing years of being something 'more than best friends', partners, and 'constant companions' didn't seem worth completely jeopardizing...at least before now. Her mind became overwrought with ideas that caused lava to seep into every vein and they sent her heart into a downright panic. Its wild beats seemed to cause the muscle to rise into her very throat.

"Sonny, y... you'll have to....forgive me," she hoarsely started stammering. Her nerve nearly faltering as his eyes seem to catch hers. Ricki suddenly finds the countless thoughts and romantic notions coinciding with tangible actions, rather than, remaining concealed in endless daydreams and fantasies. Her body seems to move of its own accord towards him. Tubbs wasn't exactly certain what she was doing but she was determined to do it anyways.

Ricki gingerly dragged her hands up the smooth material of his thin shirt, taking in every ripple of fabric and every inch of his gorgeous Miami-Sun-kissed skin that she knew was hidden beneath it. Ricki's hands moved slowly in an effort to re-familiarize herself with what she had nearly lost. His chest was something she had been well acquainted with. There were times in the past, where nuzzling her face into its warmth had been tranquilizing. Where simply making physical contact with Sonny meant that she'd make it out of the darkness alive and unharmed. The steady rise and fall of his sturdy breast-plate against hers could have been likened to the soothing of salve that is applied to a painful burn. Did Sonny know how long she had waited for a moment such as this? To feel emboldened enough to touch him with the level of desire that she did now?

Even whilst she had him all to herself, Ricki quietly envied the others that Sonny had let touch him. The others, who had willingly held Crockett's golden heart in their hands and had seen fit to shatter it to pieces. She wouldn't have done that to Sonny. Ricki wouldn't dream of hurting him in a way that would not result in his pleasure. She'd take more delight in destroying herself to protect him. If Crockett had given her one tenth of his heart, like he had given the other women, Tubbs would have guarded it with her life. Even now, as she let her hands dance across the silky cloth, the thought to splinter him into pieces never crossed her mind. For a moment, Ricki allowed one of her hands to rest above his heart. Its strong palpitations bringing a pleased smile to appear upon her face.

Ricki could no longer deny how intensely she felt for him nor, could she allow herself to repress the heavy dam of emotions that she felt towards him. The last few times she held back, had done stupidly reckless things. She almost had to spend an eternity without him, doomed forever to be his side-kick, and nothing more. She didn't want to be seen as "just Tubbs" or "just another one of the guys anymore." Ricki needed him to see that she was a woman, a woman yearning to be considered sooo much more. Ricki would be throwing caution to the wind and and damning the consequences by stealing this kiss and she knew it. If Sonny didn't feel the same, then she'd be forced to figure out other plan of action- which she was more than prepared to do.

There were flames flickering through her veins and a raging inferno sweeping stormily over the very essence of her soul. The heat of which, could be felt across every pore of her skin, or so it would seem. Her fingers lifted, then coiled into the stiff lapels of his suit-jacket, and her once calm stance shifted uneasily in preparation of the daring move. Without further warning, Ricki gently but aggressively drove him backwards into the wall. She then pressed her slender and curved figure into his more muscular one giving him very little room to move away from her grasp. The thought of what she was about to do caused her to tremble heavily. Her breaths suddenly coming out in a strange almost strangled kind of way, as she tried to restrain her passions from going too far and scaring Sonny away.

This was a moment that Ricki was both yearning for and fighting against. A shattering instant where the extend her true feelings would be made known. If Sonny hadn't an inkling of her feelings before, he soon would. Ricki inhaled sharply, searching his startlingly green and turquoise pools for any sign of resentment or contempt. Her eyes of coffee-bean brown, peanut-butter gold, and grass-green then moved to sweep over him with a sheepish but unparalleled intensity. It was wrong of her to feel this way. Wasn't it? He was her partner and her co-worker. But how could she look at him in any other way, when her heart screamed out its devotion to him and only him, with every thunderous beat?

A voice in her head beckoned her to kiss Sonny. But could she bring herself to kiss those lips of his again? She had welcomed their brushes before... but always dismissed the meaning of the gesture as something "only friends" would do. She had cut herself off from thinking more of it, making herself emotionally unavailable to the idea of wanting him.... or needing him in every sense of the word. Now, she stared at them with a look that could be translated into meaning something more than I want "just another friendly kiss".

Over the years Tubbs had taken notice of the way his lips and tongue could utter her name with such poise, elegance, flare, hate, confusion, and other emotions in a wide range of tones. She had fallen in love with every last one of them, even the ones that spelt trouble or contempt. Ricki had practically committed every minuscule and particularized movement of his lips with the releasing of every syllable, to memory. The very same lips that could coax a smile to draw upon her own face, could also coil upwards in the most frightening and heart-stopping of snarls. Sonny's two pale-pink facial bows and curves could press around a cigarette the way a greedy man's grasp could a thick wad of hundred dollar bills. He was the only one who could almost romanticize the art of smoking cigarettes in Ricki's eyes.

What did Sonny's lips taste like? Did they taste of ashes and fresh burnt tobacco like they used to? The drink he had just had swallowed? Did they still hold the same heated sensation of a working furnace in the middle of January when living in New York? Would there still be the same electric spark that she felt every time they had kissed in the past? Did Sonny's lips still know her name - as on occasion, they had? Had she become a foreigner? Or was she just another one of those forgotten after he met what he claimed to be "the one"? It had been a long time since last they kissed. These thoughts caused Ricki's sharp gaze to become fixated upon his solely lips. She took great delight in studying every slight crack and line within their pale and dusty-rose shaded surfaces. She could not help but wish to become reacquainted with them.

Before she could give herself enough time to think about what she was doing, Ricki seized hold of his smoke-scented collar, using it to pull herself just a little bit closer to him. Tubbs let out a staggering heated breath as she tried to summon the courage that would be required to steal a kiss from her handsome partner.

Her brown eyes misted as she examined him, getting lost in her own thoughts. The fresh pangs of betrayal, of hurt, of love, joy, and passion all seemed to sweep into her from out of the blue. Her mind was swimming in uncharted territory and she felt helplessly inexplicably lost. Sonny had this way of making life strangely complicated and simple at the same time.

"Sonny..... I..... I’m sorry but...." she swallowed sharply. Gosh, this was sooo hard. She could feel her own face flushing and feverishly burning. Her heart was slamming like a ram-rod against her rib-cages dutifully holding it captive within her chest.

Another thought slipped through her mind, as if it were a leaf being carried by a rapid moving gale: What if this destroys....us? I can't afford to lose someone I've become so invested in. What if this causes Sonny to hate me? What if this hurts him? Could I live with myself if I ever brought him pain?

And with that, Ricki found herself hesitating. Her body still pressed against his, but it no longer made an effort to finish or retreat from the course of action it had begun to take. All she could do was stare, wide-eyed, at the angel within her grasp and pray that he did not find cause to strike her down.

Lips finally press to Sonny’s in a hurried but somewhat fearful manner which, slowly melds into a wanton, needy, and aggressively passionate one. “I love you,” she jaggedly breathes. “I love you and I’m not ashamed to let you know...”

[noplanwithavan]

BRAVE NEW WORLD

We arrived in the land of the Midnight Sun shortly after the summer solstice. An 18 hour ferry delivered us across a heavy, toiling Baltic Sea from Gdansk in Poland to Nynnershamn near Stockholm. We’ve been here just over a week, and are still having to pinch ourselves. It’s hard not to believe you’ve been transported into a kind of Utopic vision of the future. A land where thoughtful, contemplative touches subtly reveal themselves. A society which appears to have been planned and built by people who’ve pondered deeply through the dark winter nights what would make for a pleasant living experience.

There are countries which leap out and press themselves upon your senses the moment you set foot. Morocco is one - its foreignness crowding into the pores. Not all are like that. Eastern Europe was more of an indistinct blur, punctuated only by variations in bland food and levels of indifference. But Sweden. Oh, Sweden is like waking up to the smell of fresh coffee made for you by a cool, older cousin on an outward bounds weekend.  Healthy, rich, and life affirming. A wise Beowulf who’s figured out life. Taking you by the hand, and by the light of a camp fire, whispering gently into your ear that they trust and respect you enough to see for yourself if there might be a better way of doing things.

It started with the rubbish. You hardly see a general waste bin. So, we began making even more of a conscientious effort to separate all our gunk into the right recycling bins. You can’t help it - this country just makes you want to join in and be better, rather than hurling scalding hot coffee right back at its face. Then came the houses, the cycle lanes, the museums, the cities, even the wilderness. All somehow transformative.

Driving off the ferry was like stepping onto the film set of every Scandi drama I’ve ever seen. Endless spruce, and birch forests flashing past, with glimpses of the occasional deer. The classic rust coloured wooden houses hugging the coast, banks of lupins standing to attention like purple flames, tapering towards their pale ends. Stopping by a small marina, we would wander through the springy turf woodland and find ourselves brought before the waters edge, a long wooden jetty stretching ahead, the soft swish of reeds alongside. It’s hard to fathom how there is enough detective work for the likes of Wallander, Sara Lund and that Saga woman from “The Bridge”. It seems the most incongruous place to warrant such a high murder rate. It’s unlike any landscape we’ve seen so far. And the novelty adds an exotic twist. When in truth, perhaps if we stayed longer, it would soon fade. You can drive for hundreds of kilometres and the vistas, though pretty, never really change.

We spent 3 days in Stockholm. A city that flaws you with its effortless beauty and order. The vikings were not great empire builders, and the city can’t compete with the likes of Rome for sheer mind-boggling wonder. But as a place to live, it’s hard to beat. Criss-crossing its myriad bridges connecting a network of islands, we parked our van with unanticipated ease in Östermalm, smack bang in the centre. We later discovered our parking spot was the Stockholm equivalent of Belgravia in London. Yet we could stay for free at weekends, basking in the glory of the smart, stylish buildings behind us, and a bustling marina with house boats and restaurants in front. Hell even the baroque architecture seemed a testament to vitality - a wash of cinnamon, saffron, and burnt ochre, verdigris rooves mottled like lichen. We were content to just wander the city, listening out for the long sing-song vowels bubbling out around us. I tested my 4 words of Swedish on a shop keeper (Hey=hello, Ya=yes, Ney=No, and Tak=thanks). “Did I say it right?” I broke in with an immediate apology.

“Yes,” he answered with a slow sideways grin. “But it’s not ya! You British always say it so hard.” And with an emphatic digging deep motion of his arm, he continued, “You have to really live it. It’s more like YAAAAAARRRR….”

We stumbled into a street performance festival taking place, and even here the city embraced it’s ambition to go 100% cash-free. Instead of putting money into a hat, the audience was encouraged to “Swish” a monetary donation via their phones. The crowd is noticeably more ethnically diverse than any we’ve seen for months. One little boy is picked to be a volunteer. When the performers ask where he is from, he tells them Syria, and the crowd cheers in applause. The girls insist we must sit up front and sure enough Marcus is also selected - twice - to be part of some human scaffolding. Must be his strong, muscly physique I guess! The girls find it hilarious to watch their dad being dressed up and climbed all over by ladies wearing big frilly knickers.

The city is easy to negotiate on foot and by bike. At first the cycle paths strike me as alien, futuristic somehow. And then I realise it is because I’ve never seen routes so well integrated into a city before. There is an odd epiphany, a gradual dawning which is to repeat itself. The realisation that we’ve found a place that’s not just different from home. It’s better. A Brave New World. One island, Djurgården, houses most of Stockholm’s museums. It’s crowning glory is the Vasa, a wry reminder that Swedish design wasn’t always so flawless. In the 17th century the Vasa warship sunk on her maiden voyage, just 1 kilometre out of the harbour. As an 11 year-old I remember a school trip to Portsmouth to see conservation work on the Tudor equivalent, the Mary Rose. The Vasa would have made Henry VIII apoplectic with envy. Towering five storey’s high, the museum is constructed around her many levels - the tops of her masts even poking out through the building’s roof. Journeying through the different parts of her structure you are treated to a smorgasbord of historical insight. The presentation and forensic detail is astounding. It’s like a brainstorming session that actually got gloriously realised, rather than chewed up, compromised and ultimately bodged. There were brightly coloured copies of a select few of the 700 adorning wooden sculptures, intricate models, replica parts of the ship for you to enter, visual displays and films showing how the ship was built. But best of all, were the reconstructed faces of the skeletons found on board. So life-like you could even see the sweat glistening on their skin. Elsie and Lulu were transfixed, asking again and again about one young woman in particular. Analysis of her teeth showed not only that she had been malnourished as a child, but that she was probably a seamstress. The tell-tale clue was a groove in her right incisor tooth, consistent with having bitten off thread over and over again. God I just love that! And so did they, you could practically hear their brain cells popping as the puzzle slid into place like a true Scandi-detective!

The only things not so appealing about Sweden are the cost, and the noticeable dip in air temperature. In Croatia we were baking beside azure mediterranean waters, feeling like we were on summer holiday. We spent a week in the fishing village of Pučišća on the island of Brac, which I’d visited with girlfriends a few years before. Despite numerous fans Marcus had rigged up, the heat of the van became unbearable. Sticky, sweaty seats, and nights where everyone bar me was eaten alive by mosquitos. I am the envy of my entire family, the only one seemingly immune to the blood suckers.  We bought inflatables and sought shade in an apartment for a few days, gorging on nectarines and flip-flopping in and out of the water. It was a chance to bide our time and energy before taking the girl’s to see their first ever experience of live rock in the capital Zagreb. The “InMusic Festival” website said it was kid-friendly, but I think they must have been counting the swarms of fresh-faced teenagers in that description. We spotted about 5 other small kids, but in the end rarity worked to our advantage. Elsie and Lulu attracted plenty of attention in their bright yellow ear defenders. Sweet-natured 19 year-old girls would stop, and gasp. Allowing sticky little paws to stroke their fairy wings as they crouched low to boogie along, before leaving a swipe of face glitter as a departing gift. Elsie couldn’t quite believe that grown-ups got to dress like that. All her fairy/princess/frozen ambitions seemingly crystallised to perfection. They stayed up till midnight to watch ‘Arcade Fire’, whose music Marcus had been steadily indoctrinating into them weeks before. The band were amazing, but I know they’d have sounded even better if I didn’t have one person digging into my shoulders and another trying to yell an inane, frankly not very interesting question, into my ear. Though fun, I couldn’t escape the feeling that Croatia felt like one giant tourist attraction. We never quite got a sense of the people or the place. It glittered, but left us cold, despite the 30-degree heat.

Our summer spending spree continued north into Hungary. Moving so quickly now, there was barely time to learn the currencies and please/thank you before passing from one border to the next. Across the flat European plain we travelled, through villages whose modest one-storey houses would draw the eye. Not the buildings themselves, but to what lay beyond - chickens and dust and glimpses of an older, subsistence life. The traditional style barns, set back, giving on to wide open fields of corn. There was the odd nodding donkey in the flat terrain too - an oil gathering relic seemingly from another age. We spent so little time in Hungary, Austria, Slovakia and Poland we were gripped by a kind of frenzy. Eating out all the time - trying to cram in goulash, strudel and dumplings. Casting around for places to stop, we lost our way, and were falling back into old habits, hitting the big tourist sites which leave you feeling as hollow as your wallet. It was a kind of desperation I think, an attempt to distract ourselves from the creeping awareness that we had almost gone full cycle. The olives and almonds we had first picked in Spain were now ripening again on the trees. Fields of sunflowers which had been slumped before the French sun last September, were now rising up in worship once more. Thoughts of home preyed on our minds. How were we going to get used to going back to a sedentary life filled with routine? Freedom is addictive, and however much we miss friends and family, we’re not relishing that sacrifice.

In Slovakia we visited beautiful Bratislava, and then stopped for a couple of nights in the Tatras mountains. I’d read rave reviews about the compact Carpathian mountain range, but either we were missing a trick, or it just wasn’t that great. Compared to the wilderness of the Accursed Mountains in Albania, it felt tame and commercialised. In the ski-town of Strebske Pleso we took a chair lift and then hiked up to Solsiko at just over 2,200 m. A revised version of Spartacus spurred Elsie and Lulu up the steep, rocky summit, where we passed scores of other neon-clad Slovakian day trippers. It was the mountaineering equivalent of painting by numbers. You go through the motions, but the end result is uninspiring. Poland was even less so, perhaps because here it actually felt like we HAD arrived back in Britain. Tesco stores sprouting up alongside motorways under cold, grey skies.The familiar miserliness of toilet stops where you are charged to use the loo. The mediterranean, with its soft warmth, never felt so far away.

We stopped at Poland’s premier tourist attraction, the Weilizcka Salt Mine. A vertical shaft with a staircase that plunges you 110m underground, where tunnels open onto caverns shiny and solid with rock salt. We couldn’t resist licking the walls to test if they really are salty. They are. It’s actually pretty interesting, huge chambers, even an underground cathedral carved from salt. Our guide’s sense of humour is as dry as the atmosphere inside the mine, but it can’t disguise the fact it’s still one big tourist rip off. Afterwards we make a vow: no more big tourist attractions where you’re herded and cosseted. Stripped of your dignity along with your cash.

Krakow was a delightful exception, with its curiosity shops and old world charm. I’m not one to water down history lessons for the girls, and I rarely shy away from telling them the truth - in all its grizzly detail. But the haunting sight of those dilapidated buildings in the old Jewish Quarter proved too much even for me. We skirted awkwardly around the subject of Poland’s tragic past. The enormity of the Holocaust is not a story I can bear to tell them just yet.

Long days of driving followed, sometimes 600 km a day, to get to the port at Gdansk. The girls coped well, entertaining themselves by DJ’ing from their seats in the back. Elsie loves the song “Pusher Man” by Curtis Mayfield. We can’t help grinning as she delightfully misinterprets the lyrics.

“I can’t believe he’s saying “Want some coke, have some wee!” she crows. “Who would want wee?”

The coast west of Gdansk is an unwelcome sight. It puts me in the mind of Barry Island. Thronging with the bucket and spade brigade, and lined with fish and chip joints. For the first we are officially further north than when we left Wales 10 months ago. Roughly on a par with the Lake District. It was tempting just to hot foot it back to Southern climes. But I’m glad we pushed further North now into Scandinavia.

The wilderness begins right outside Stockholm. Hugging the coast northwards, we’ve seen the sunset shift ever onwards until finally it now just hovers above the horizon. I didn’t think their bedtime could get any later, but it’s gone beyond now. By blacking out the van we try and sleep. But it still amazes me to see the world softly lit, as if by gas light, every time I wake in the middle of the night and step outside to wee. We’re making friends along the way. One evening we got chatting to a father and his daughter, Elsa, who taught us the card game “Go Fish” in Swedish. But Elsie and Lulu’s favourite word is undeniably “exit”. Which is the superbly satisfying “utfart”.

Wrapping our tastebuds around salted liquorice, crackers, and cinnamon buns, we are driving north, trying to muster up the courage to sample possibly the world’s most challenging food: Surstromming, an explosive Swedish delicacy of fermented herring. There’s a stop along the way, at the Skuleskogen National Park. A magical landscape, where it’s easy to believe trolls and fairies dwell. Finally we get to see the wood for the trees, for this is the High Coast, where you can climb above the forest and gaze down upon islands mushrooming out of the Baltic Sea below. The land here has been rising by 8mm every year since the last ice age 10,000 years ago. Geological signs of this shift are all around. We take a 8km hike past prehistoric beaches and bronze age burial mounds through enchanted woodland, brimming with bearded lichen. At least here we never have to worry about setting off by a certain time. It doesn’t much matter how long you take, with 24 hour sunlight there’s never the need for a torch to find your way home. Our walk brings us out into a sheltered bay with a camping spot at Kälsviken beach. There are composting toilets and shelters with seasoned wood, the odd fire roasting pit, even neat piles of logs stacked around the beach. We watch a teenage boy splitting logs, and I assume he must have brought his own equipment. But he finishes up, hammering the axe into a chopping block, and gesturing for us to go ahead. It slowly dawns on us that all these thoughtfully placed touches are for general use. “God, it just seems so advanced here!” Marcus exclaims.

In the last few days we’ve delved even deeper into the wilderness, and are now sleeping so little I am beginning to wonder if we shall soon go full circle and gain an extra day. Crossing into Lapland we tracked down another long lost friend of Marcus’s, Lisa Angberg. He’s well supplied with mates out in the sticks! Lisa, Pablo and their 6 year old son Theo run a tourism business, Stora Björnstugan, up in Laisvallby in northern Sweden, renting out wooden cabins. They have welcomed us with such warmth and wonder I hardly know where to begin. We’ve eaten Reindeer, Elk, fished for Coregon on the river, had a sauna, and learned from Lisa all about the many uses spruce pine and birch can be put to. There I was thinking all this woodland was purely for flatpack furniture, but she’s shown us another world of forest shampoos, conditioners, syrups, sap you can drink. I wish we could stay, the endless light adds a kind of mania. It’s become normal for the kids to stay up till midnight, going out in the boat, or playing amongst the wildflowers in the garden. It’s wonderful, magical. We love you Sweden. You’re everything I dreamed and more. And we haven’t even seen you dressed in your winter finest yet. We will be back.

[odditycollector]

Anti-Parallel Evolution

[disclaimer: as always with just-so stories, i'm talking 'what i enjoy believing' not 'true with any authority']

This is kinda a continuation of my semi recent homestuck myth post, and kinda a continuation of my not even a little recent blackrom post**.

**[Which I think still holds up, although if I was re-writing it today I'd put either way less or way more effort into bullshitting the low-level mechanisms of reproduction, 'cause that's the least thought-out part & it shows. tldr: I enjoy believing trolls have many more than 2 parents.]

And alas but I've gotta ruin the "true thing” hidden in the homestuck myth post to go on with this one.

It's the last bit, where the early proto-trolls were, as a swarm, a single(ish?) superorganism in the way that a colony of earth ants or termites or bees can be best understood as a single superorganism, but then as the trolls evolved they became more and more individualistic until they are as we meet them.

Things that make more sense this way:

variation between "castes"

eg, why are there sea trolls? why are deep blue trolls apparently hoarding all the superstrength? why are there powers that you'd expect to find in yellows or ceruleans respectively... but not v.v.?

a: because at one time they were specialized "cells" of a superorganism, where the castes had different functions like how ants have soldiers and workers and breeders.

and those divisions were either too useful (for some definition of "useful") or too genetically baked in to be completely erased yet even if they've blurred.

incestuous slurry

eg, if the endgame is sexual reproduction, why not just have two parents and less confusion (even if imo it would be a waste of thinking about aliens)

a: because primitive superorganisms, to the best of my knowledge of science's knowledge, only hold together when they are all genetically similar. (This is why a cell in your liver is willing to cast its lot with a cell in your brain it will never meet.) Otherwise, individuals will *cheat* - find a way to reproduce outside what is best for the entire superorganism, and after that there are *more* genetic cheaters, who cheat more, and then... death by extremely slow existential cancer, is almost what it sounds like I'm describing here?

How genetically similar *are* trolls then?

no idea, but here is the thing: even if genetic similarity is GREAT for cooperation, it is CRAP for being a viable species that is not going to go the way of the genetically identical eating bananas - currently in the process of all getting killed by one disease strain. And if you're an r-selected** species - many many children, low resource investment, low survival to adulthood rates - you can afford to do a lot of genetic experimenting (ie, have a high mutation rate) because the fucked up ones will just die, like most of them do anyway, and hey, you never know.

**[Or close enough for this post.]

So this is what I'm positing.

your dna goes into the slurry, baby trolls come out of the slurry. check. but which baby trolls are made of YOUR dna in particular? Well, who's counting, but probably a lot. like "more than you'd get with 2 parents per troll" a lot.

If you have 20 paired chromosomes and (with some help >;) ), you split them down the middle and make 2 kids with half your dna each, you have an investment in getting those 2 kids as far in life as you can, because that's the whole you.

but split them further - say one chromosome per kid - and now you have *40* kids you're invested in seeing survive in order for there to be a whole copy of you still floating around in the 2nd generation.

But at the same time, you have way *less* of an investment in each one of those 40 than when it was only 2. And again, who's counting? Any number of the baby trolls crawling inside the caverns could have bits of you in their mix.

Instead of caring a *lot* about *some* members of your species, you care a *little* about *all* of them.

Maybe that's enough to get a species to hang out together? That'd be worth the energy it’d cost to do it if it'd be so.

That and... *one* other thing.

Cheaters, remember?

The way insects do it is central control. The non-queen individuals biologically cannot** reproduce on their own terms.

**[or close enough for this post]

oh hey, *who does that sound like*?

The thing I like to believe is trolls don't make eggs on their own, and haven't for millions and millions of years, b/c once upon a time when they still did make eggs they parasitized the proto-mothergrub species the way wasps lay their eggs in caterpillars, and this became proto-trolls parasitizing the proto-mothergrub species by making them make eggs containing proto-troll dna, and this became whatever is going on today.

(If you think that is too neat and unlikely you should look into the terrifying shit Earth insects have managed to get up to.)

So, with all that, could a species introduce significant genetic variation at the individual level and still survive as a superorganism?

Well...

it *didn't*, did it?

[And here's a thought.

[Spiders - singular insects - are r-selected the way trolls seem to be. Lots of eggs, few to reach adulthood, competition intense.

[but are *hive bees* r-selected?

[arguably, they are not. bee colonies don't make as many new bees as possible, they only make as many new bees as they need, and they provide the baby bees honey to eat and nursemaids to take care of them until they become adult bees.

[and isn't it kinda weird that post-pupation trolls seem somehow, like, *injured* by growing up by themselves in a harsh world, even though it “should” be what they are evolved for?

[Maybe they're meant to be less r-selected than we assume.

[That last bit's not What I Like To Believe(tm), but it's a thought.]

Wow that single quick intro paragraph got away from me a little :/

Anyway, parallel evolution is when two species, faced with similar constraints, evolve similar traits to deal with those constraints.

eg, flying squirrels and flying lizards both glide around on flaps of skin, but they have not shared an ancestor for a very very long time - They both developed the flying thing separately.

Humans... okay, we all know about humans, right? We were once more individualistic creatures but then we slowly, piecemeal, learned the trick of inter-group cooperation and used it to take over the world.

So humans were individuals who learned group-ishness, and trolls were a group that learned individuality, and then we all met together somewhere in the middle.

That’s what I think would be cool.

[bonus question: Humans have developed *intER*group cooperation. Trolls were starting from a place of *intRA*group connection and working backwards. Which one of us d'you suppose would be better at making interspecies friends, come alien contact?]

And the interesting part is, in both cases, you get there the same way.

via neoteny!

neoteny is when a species evolves to keep more child-like traits into adulthood. It's what fuels the domestication process - being docile and curious and trusting and friendly is a phase for *babies*. ...And/or any species that 1. naturally goes through that phase and 2. hangs around humans too long.

Including humans.

We are all giant whiny babies who have no one to blame but ourselves. That is science facts.

And genes are complicated and stuff so when you change the behaviour of a species you change the physical traits of the species as well, and a domesticated animal will keep child-like markings/features/etc into adulthood and that's why dogs have floppy ears.

But! Back to homestuck trolls.

It is easy to read what we are given in-comic as "these kids are growing less violent as they get older, and at the very beginning of their humanoid life - the 'trials' - they had to be really quite vicious indeed".

To illustrate my headcanons here’s a snippet from an old thing I wrote:

At about 5 sweeps is where things get interesting.

The trials are long over, and so the slow wave of settlement. There are enough resources to go around; bloodlust is falling out of fashion with the inexorable change of brain hormones. Suddenly, everyone is interested in figuring out the *rules*.

or:

“Yes,” she says. “Sure. Right. Karkat, you’ve survived this long with less challenge than anyone else I’ve known. Here.”

Kanaya pries the book from him and searches through it for a passage. “…proximity to the parasite has been observed to actuate the development of premature empathy in adolescent trolls.”

“Premature empathy,” Karkat repeats. “You mean that being around me makes trolls less aggressive. Just by *existing* at you, I made you *weak*. Oh fuck. I’m so sorry.”

I could argue my case in depth but it's not that unusual a theory and I don't wanna go on another whole essay tangent.

But the kid trolls only know what adults are like from their media, which is explicitly mentioned to make stuff just for kids, who are into violence. Maybe the troll child-friendly channel is the one with all the goriest stuff on it, idk, but I def. do not believe there is no adult-audienced media anywhere in the fleet.

So like

Humans: Neoteny --> more childlike --> more trusting, curious, and friendly

Trolls: Neoteny --> more childlike --> more individualistic and uncooperative

See? *backwards*

(And Her Imperious Condescension sure looks cool to the hs troll kids, but maybe she's just a spoiled brat who never really grew up. Not like THAT's not a theme for Homestuck villains.)

And now... here we are.

And the real reason I brought us all this way is because it opens up an potentially amusing cultural mismatch.

We have certain associations with facial proportions, right? It's neoteny all over again (and also some sexism but).

And maybe trolls have the opposite associations... for the same reasons**!

**[Yes I am assuming trolls have similar childhood traits because otherwise it isn’t funny.]

here are some neoteny linked traits:

low, large eyes small chin, nose large head:body size ratio short stature invokes the general abstract concept of roundness somehow etc.

Human RX:

adorable! helpless/vulnerable/needs protection i just met it and i loooove it! does it need hugs cause i have extra hugs just lying around here compelled to hold/pet/cuddle it

Troll RX (suggested):

vicious/violent/dangerous leave it alone or it will bite you probably unpredictable/disloyal selfish likely to end up dead anyway so not really worth caring about instinctual revulsion (judging from karkat + grubs)

and some anti-neotony linked traits:

smaller eyes, higher in head larger nose, jaw taller with smaller head:body ratio etc.

Human RX:

more likely to be dangerous (poss. in protection of itself/bonded others) suffers fools less than gladly, see also: unwanted attention self-sufficient jealous of resources/not good at sharing closed off/suspicious

Troll RX (hypothesized):

more emotionally stable more socially adept/a potential friend or ally competent/proven sex haver competent/proven at self protection safer to let down your guard around it able to usefully cooperate in groups towards shared goal

Okay? Okay.

okay......

So then imagine Karkat's reaction the first time he gets a puppy shoved in his face.

:)

The end.

I'm out of typing now.

[natorevan]

Mass Effect: Andromeda - Review

After finishing my first playthrough, and being well underway on finishing another, I thought I’d type up a review (with some personal thoughts thrown in), mostly for the fun of it, and to see if I can still write something coherent.

Be advised that the following content may contain minor spoilers.

I’ll start off on what I consider one of Andromeda’s most lackluster feature;

Character Creation

The character creation is bad. It’s just bad. You’ve got 9 presets, all of which provide an extremely limited baseline for your Ryders, and in some cases quite ugly ones at that. You can’t change the shape of the nose, eyes, or general shape of the head of the presets, or even select the shape or color of eyebrows. Hairstyles are severely lacking in actual style, and with 2/3rds of the presets being characters of color, and skin tone locked to a percentage value, pale Ryders are pretty much impossible (and even then, certain lighting conditions will make even the palest of Ryders display shades of orange).

The original Mass Effect trilogy never sported particularly impressive CC, but compared to that, and with the considerable leap in quality presented by Dragon Age: Inquisition, Andromeda’s contribution is a massive step backwards.

Exploration and Environment

Andromeda’s main theme. Also its main quality, though not without flaws. Space exploration is pretty much the same it’s been since Mass Effect 2, minus the mineral scan. It has the potential for some truly awe-inspiring visuals, such as the image above, but the travel times are atrocious (thankfully fixed as of patch 1.05 with the addition of a skip button). One major flaw of the theme, however, is that the game tries to paint you as a trailblazer, a frontline pioneer to pave the way through unknown lands for the masses to follow. Yet, everywhere you go, there are entire communities of people already there, be they alien or human, who seem to be managing just fine without your expertise. Hell, in at least one instance, your actions can actually be to the detriment of an already established colony of Milky Way compatriots.

Nevertheless, once we get our boots and wheels on the ground, the gameplay itself is actually quite enjoyable. The Nomad is particularly fun.

Really fun.

Half the fun of exploration is just driving the Nomad around like a crazy person. It handles well, features a boost and hover jets for all your ramping needs, and can be upgraded with an additional agility mode.

But exploration wouldn’t be worth a whole lot without a proper environment. Thankfully, there’s no shortage of that in Andromeda.

With at least 5 planets to explore, there’s plenty of great views to take in, ranging from wide-open spaces and massive cliff-sides to derelict ruins and floating rocks. The only downside is that the variety could be better. Vegetation is rare, and the only planet to feature plenty of it is dark, cramped, and with a generally depressive atmosphere. It doesn’t help that it also left out the benefit of the Nomad, making it the one planet I really didn’t enjoy exploring and was relieved to finally put behind me.

Sidequests are a hit or miss. On every planet there are copy-pasted exploration quests that have you finding/destroying 3 or more items before heading to a final fourth location, and most other sidequests have you going to location A to find or kill X, and so on.  Additionally, the game is absolutely in love with plot twists and morally grey areas, which are dotted over the many sidequests in this game. Some are good, some are bad, but after the first two or three, any quests after that become utterly predictable, though not necessarily boring.

Combat

The combat in this game is very enjoyable once you get the hang of it, but can be a bit frustrating at the start. Depending on your playstyle, it can feel slow and smooth or fast and chaotic. Animations are well done and extremely cool to look at, and the audio is great with explosions, gunfire, and various powers adding serious weight to the action. Cover and melee feel like they could be improved, though. The cover mechanic, for example, does not feature a lock-to-cover like ME2 and 3, and is more akin to ME1′s tacked on implementation of it, although a lot more flexible.

Melee, on the other hand, feels weak and generally doesn’t really provide much benefit where I feel it should. If an enemy gets too close, you’d want melee to be able to dispatch said enemy quickly enough to not get too distracted or overwhelmed, but even some of the weakest enemies can require up to three hits before going down, depending on the quality of your melee weapon. As it stands, it feels like the game would rather have you ducking from cover to cover than bother with melee, unless you like being a bullet magnet. There are also no executions over cover, as featured in ME3, which would’ve been really handy considering enemies in Andromeda are much more prone to swarming you than in earlier installments.

Overall, however, combat is solid. It tries to keep you mobile but still gives you the option to hunker down, if that’s what you prefer. And if you’re feeling really mad, there’s this option:

Story

In a way, the story can be described as Mass Effect’s “The Force Awakens”. It shares a lot of similarities with the original game, from the overall plot and down to some of the smaller details. Without sharing too much, a few points include such things as ancient technology only you can access, a somewhat apathetic leadership not fully trusting your word and abilities, and several noticeable parallels in both the prologue and climax.

The villain is of the cookie cutter variety, though I personally enjoyed the sort of Roman element sprinkled over the whole thing, and am optimistic that any potential future appearances of the antagonists will improve.

The companions are, like the overall story, noticeably similar in nature to their ME1 counterparts. Their personalities and backstories may be different, opposites even, but the baselines are very much the same. Examples include an aging krogan veteran with semi-progressive views, and an asari scientist with an interest in archaeology. Sound familiar?

As for Ryder, they’re certainly no Shepard. Ryder suffers from a serious lack of authority and the charisma to go with it. In a way, this makes them feel more relatable, but it detracts from the story when they’re supposed to be a leader. It makes sense at the start, but they never really evolve from there, at least not in a way that is properly conveyed.

The story suffers from a few plot holes, the most jarring having to do with first contact situations. I won’t go into any details, but suffice it to say that first contact in this game is handled piss-poor.

Though it is lacking, it manages to be enjoyable, and the climax (while flawed) was sufficiently action packed to keep me interested. But what really gripped me were the mysteries of the ruins. You finish this game with more questions raised than answered, and that’s what ultimately has me waiting for more stories in Andromeda.

Leftovers and Wrap-Up

Mass Effect: Andromeda plays, in many ways, like a mixture of the original Mass Effect and Dragon Age: Inquisition, with things such as perks, camps, war table missions, exploration side quests, and crafting thrown on top of the original frame. It’s not bad, but it’s not great. As much as I personally enjoyed it, despite its flaws, I think it only manages to appeal to a very specific kind of player.

The game’s success is largely limited to its ground exploration and combat element, and much of that requires time and patience if one seeks to experience most of the good content the game has to offer. But even that is littered with copy pasted fetch quests which would be utterly unbearable if not for the implementation of the Nomad.

It could be enjoyed for the story, but it’s not its strongest point. Recycled plot and characters will likely turn some people away, while others might notice the lack of any real tension throughout.

Dialogue choices can also be, at times, extremely confusing or unclear, making one hesitant to choose an option that may be perfectly rational simply because you can’t reasonably determine what to expect. Or maybe a choice you made is followed by dialogue that throws you for a loop, though this is a minor issue.

The ever talked-about facial animations are there, but have received a quick fix-up, with the biggest problem of dead-eyed stares being much less prevalent as of this writing.

And, like any game these days, there are bugs. The worst I’ve encountered had to do with enemies not properly registering as dead, or being invisible or stuck in walls, forcing me to load an earlier save in order to continue. But during almost 120 hours of playtime, this only happened twice. Other bugs were more amusing than harmful, and not all that common either.

Overall, I think the game is worth a 6.5-7/10, maybe 8/10 if you’re very patient or easily pleased. But if you’re looking to skip as much of the exploration as possible and focus entirely on the main story and multiplayer, I’d recommend waiting for a serious price cut.