#also had a diff thing planned for the color but that was off too so uhh we ball

[joshbruh10x]

Somewhat of a redraw from last year's Halloween drawing w the Fazcule and Greg alongside a few alts bc I couldnt decide on a final look.

Happy Halloween peeps >:]

The true Halloween experience isn't complete lest you were on a sugar rush with a dash of caffeine today

[blackstarchanx3new]

FSR rambles 18 dreams about being gannon

Direct parallels to Gannon/OOT.

Sweet time to mention Shadow can play the piano haha. I have a plan for a comic on HOW he learned but that's a later date type thing.

HERO OF TIME HIIIIIII. 💖 Also Naavi.

He's here to murder shadow. Noice.

Seems like Shadow's just getting haunted by this guy considering his appearance earlier in the comic in page 290 -

Seems like Hero of Time just isn't a fan of him or smth. XDDD

Ouch. That looked like it hurt.

Also hi who are you.

Also considering I know who you are...Why are your eyes Blue buddy? :D

"Aw shit. I got sliced"

"Also I'm younger"

Ah dream logic.

Hi Perry-

I mean uhhh

Totally mysterious purple clad hero.

This is a character from the planned sequel of FSR. and I can't speak much about him. You'd know a decent amount about him if you've seen the FSRA posts.

Also his eyes changed...Again...

When I dream I have nothing but nightmares too shadow. Smh.

Oh Hi Link. Why are you wearing white and black. Basically the reverse of Dark Link's fit? Not weird at aaaaall considering that wasn't what he was wearing before he pulled the sword...

It's been around for awhile NOW but Shadow's hair changing to have a red streak...much like a certain gerudo man we know isn't odd at ALLLLLL.

Also nice Malice eyes Shadow.

Yeah I'm sure the magic demonic 8 ball will have the answers you seek Shadow.

Considering the Gannon flashbacks we just saw...Who's "him" Dark? Because Dark could just as easily be talking about Vaati here. But really it's up in the air on who he meant exactly.

Dark keeping his horns from his vaati convo and it appearing on his human ish form was a fun detail to add.

Random note to think about: Dark had to put himself back in Shadow's hat after sneaking off to vaati's house and that imagery is funny so I'm sharing it with you.

Dark's hair is still vaati colored as well and his behavior is reflecting him still.

Link talking about food and sleeping is just about the most link thing ever so Dark gives absolutely no shits about it.

Haha you should have chosen your words more wisely shadow...

It ALMOST sounds like you don't WANT Link here...which Dark can pick up on pal-

Oh shit. You repeated it you meant it.

Yeah don't shout Link could wake up.

Dark kinda SORTA seems to know what's happening...

But he's using "I think" and uncertain language. (You know he's not sure of smth if he's using phrasing like that hah. Since he's usually so self assured in his assumptions.)

Lol ignore how often my dumbass forgot to keep Shadow's hair right. Mistakes happen. 😅

Hey Shadow, abusing the nutcase isn't gonna get you very far.

Especially because he hates your guts.

Dark's kinda right here tho. Shadow's being selfish as hell rn.

The phrase "Does the word "HERO" just have no meaning to you? You disgust me" specifically gets a chuckle out of me considering who's mouth it's coming out of.

Dark continues to miss identify Shadow as Gannon when he said "you're as old as time" (More of a reference to demise depending on how you look at it but same diff)

Dark sweating visibly showing he's still very much scared of Shadow.

Shadow pulled his head out of his ass for a second and realized Dark's acting weird. (Like Vaati)

Dark's instant snap back is amusing but also sad. Like. Shadow doesn't "know him" not in any meaningful way. But he does yield and admit he was looking at memories for... YEARS in the head space.

Which is just a level of horror beyond comprehension.

Imagine spending YEARS looking at other people's memories just to get yanked out of it randomly by mr root of all evil himself bitching at you about smth you don't even know about, some guy you had a single conversation with YEARS AGO. But oh yeah. It's only been maybe 8 hours in the real world and all perception of time and reality was thrown off and you're being accused of being a different person after all that shit.

To say Dark Link isn't having a fun or good time would be an understatement.

I touched on it in a fic where Link and Dark bang of all places but Dark's existence is an existential nightmare.

Dark Link's EXISTANCE isn't fun for him. He's gonna mention it later too but he's MISSERABLE and vocal about his misery and pain just being alive.

Something weird to think about: Who's memories was he even looking at?

Really from his vague description it could be ANYONE.

I personally like to think it's vaati's considering he still has his hair shifted to be vaati's tone, is acting like vaati and mentions shadow being "Annoying"

though Link and vio are high possibilities too haha.

A mix of all of them aren't off base either.

Identity crisis how fun...Dark struggling to separate himself from the memories he's witnessed is concerning to say the least.

At least he's willing to be helpful with what he thinks is going on.

Really he could have just said "Fuck off figure it out yourself" but he offers to try and explain shit to Shadow from his perspective.

Dark's openness to cooperate despite everything is smth noteworthy.

He has literally no reason to do shit like this (Even if it fails) ESPECIALLY considering his distaste for Shadow. He just does shit that's helpful or nice cause he can.

Just little characterizations that Dark Link is more like Link than you'd first think considering his introduction.

Also OOT reference again with Ganon entering the sacred realm to steal the Triforce of power.

The second Shadow mentions them splitting is a relief, Dark cosplays Vio. XDDDD

Even Shadow thinks that was Vio like haha.

Dark's avoiding Link is the funniest part of this. "Oh shit he's waking up, gotta run. Don't wanna talk to him." XDDD

Don't do it Shadow.

It's a terrible idea.

Last time Link was here he was wanting to off himself so he might not be the most mentally sound individual!

Also who's happy to be woken up...

Dark Link being the voice of reason here about the pros and cons to waking Link up or even listening to him haha.

Considering what happens HAPPENS, that probs would have happened REGUARDLESS of if he was woken up or not. The change really is down to whether or not Shadow would A. Even be around for it. B. Be the one to wake Link up and have that burden on his mind or C. Just let shit happen.

Shadow is putting a ton of pressure on Dark to give answers or be helpful AND CORRECT but like...dude Dark doesn't know, he's guessing too lmfao.

Shadow makes what I consider a very foolish choice which was waking Link up.

Dark held back the explosion aspect but he is here to have fun first so uhhhh...Well he DID say it'd be funny to him and not Shadow.

Shadow defaults to blaming Dark Link "Damn demon" which...Shadow learn some accountability.

Panel by panel breakdown cause stuffs getting jucy:

1- Interesting outfit choice Link. It's the one he wore when he was a bit younger. So he's got a younger mindset when waking up. Which is just sad.

2- his outfit changes to half blue half green with a purple sleeve, his hands are all sorts of wrong and mish mashed with red and purple nails. His eyes also have the wrong color. His body is distorting all over the place...Interesting.

3- Shadow you shouldn't have said anything. The coward's hiding too lmfao he knows he fucked up.

4- Safe to say he's not very happy.

Link's distorting and glitching is based on video game glitches. Which is fun because: LOZ is a video game.

There's something distinctly haunting and uncanny about buggy/glitchy game assets and I wanted to capture it here.

Like the reality of four people being forced into one body is quite horrifying and the idea of them just bugging out unable to process how many thoughts there are is overwhelming. Literally like overloading a computer or gaming system.

There's also something to be said about how he fully breaks after seeing Shadow Link.

This is brought up later so I'll expand upon it later but the fact literally the only words Shadow Link spoke to LINK was "I'm the hero Link" or smth like that is hysterical.

For living together for 7 years: They truly don't know each other well on a personal level considering their ability to communicate was stunted by Shadow being...Well a Shadow. And I wanna explore that more as the series goes on.

1- Lol Green hi thanks for trying to stay calm.

2- Vio's here too. Something tells me calming down isn't working considering your face is cracking more and the tunic is flashing different colors.

3- Shadow I swear to god, shut your mouth-

4- Yeaaaaaah we saw that coming. Ouch looks painful. Good thing that body is magic hahaha.

Link's just not having a good time at all. XD

I think a few people caught this but Link breaking down here was based on the forced gem fusions in SU also the distorted static version of the cartoons from learning with pibby XD

It was good inspo for how horrific this scenario is.

Really all of them are just kinda, shoved in there. Unable to truly escape and they're NOT HAPPY about it.

Blue specifically is trying to get out as we'll know later and we get more context on his thoughts about this ordeal from the Darkblue chapter... But visually you can see Link's got two faces and it remains consistent that that's Blue.

Which, is terrifying.

There's also the underlying horror that the "Why" Link is back in one body isn't truly addressed but we'll get more into that later.

Shadow running for his damn life haha.

I'd be scared too if that mess was crawling at me.

The sad thing is that Link's reaching out for help and Shadow responds by screaming in terror lmfao.

Cause Link seems monstruous at the moment but the reality of the situation is he's very clearly conscious and scared. He's reaching out to the only person he can, which is Shadow.

I think this might be my favorite design of Link in this state. It's just horrific to look at. The eyes bleeding onto both his faces which are cracked like mirrors so you can't tell what he's looking at. He has Vio and Blue's legs sticking out of his back, and entire extra head forcing its way off his main one, it's hard to tell from these but his skin is glitching in both Red and Blue's separate skin tones (Blue's being a bit darker and Red's being lighter)

His tunic is pitch black which, black absorbs all wavelengths of light and reflects none...Literally keeping it trapped haha.

Yeah. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING.

Anyway, Link/Green, Vio and red are all reaching out to shadow but blue is suspiciously absent haha.

Them grabbing onto Shadow is smth Vio would do...

The four sword's lil gem thingy is glitched to shit too. Each colored piece being a different size. Green's is noticeably larger while Blue and Red's are about the same size. Vio's is the smallest.

Shadow's hat is doing that thing Dark does when he's upset where it clings to his body.

Yeah feeling like you can't do anything would be a feeling you fall into frequently being trapped as a shadow.

Take that agency back Shadow it's been robbed from you for too long.

Blue: GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!!!!

Jokes aside I love this moment. Link getting more stable as he keeps Shadow close to him is sweet.

Link just needed a hug. UwU

Or...Less cute option: Maybe...The triforce of power had something to do with it...

Link/Red crying immediately when Shadow says a single word lmfao.

Link's so pretty I love him. I'm glad he's back a bit.

"Shadow, stop talking." could apply to everything he says to link as of rn. XD

Link's still very much emotionally distressed and I'd be too after THAT SHIT SHOW.

I do think it's funny how Link is wearing black here and Shadow is wearing white. (It's just his usual underclothes without his tunic)

Yes shut up and please just hug him it's clearly what he needs rn Shadow. X'D

Perfect cut off point lmfao.

[salemssimblr]

Hi Salem! I was looking at your (absurdly helpful) render tutorials, and I wondered if you had any advice on getting the shadows to look less... weird? Right now, my current blender scene has some very ugly-looking shadows that are way too harsh and sudden to be realistic. I'm using a point light at the ceiling (and I plan to add a couple of wall lights). Also, any advice on how to make a chandelier look decent lighting-wise if you want to fit it into frame? Thanks for answering, and thanks again for your tutorials!! They've definitely saved my ass these past couple renders! <3

Hey Morri!

The best advice I can give on lighting is to play around with it and move the lights around/adjust their brightness/color/etc until you get something you like (that removes the shadows).

Also keep in mind that lighting will behave differently in Eevee vs Cycles. I exclusively use cycles but I remember from my eevee days that the shadows were often really harsh for some reason? They took a lot more finicky adjustments to get right iirc When I first started, I tried to stick to only using "realistic" lighting, meaning I only used light sources inside sconces or chandeliers, but I quickly learned that this strategy doesn't always yield pretty results, so now I use realistic light sources as my "base" (windows, candles, chandeliers etc) and then usually add in point or spotlights off-camera (so they could believably be coming from something off-scene, and so they don't reflect in any mirrors or glass) to achieve more dynamic lighting and draw attention where I want it.

As for chandeliers, it depends on the chandelier itself but I'll do a few diff things:

I'll add in the chandelier like normal, add point lights "above" the bulb/candle flame (or in the space where it should be), then select the flames in photoshop and give them the proper glow effect This ofc requires the chandelier mesh to have a flame piece

If it doesn't, I'll create one (add in a uv sphere mesh and sculpt it to look like a candle flame) and then use blender's built in emission shaders plus point lights

This is wild and tedious but sometimes I'll edit the mesh to separate candles/flames from the chandelier, and use blender's built in emission settings plus a point light to achieve the right effect

I'll use a candle flame image and blender's emission to achieve the look I'm going for - this process is newer to me and will require its own tut post to explain fully 😅

Thanks for the ask and I hope this helps! I'm also so glad to hear that my tutorials are helpful! I'll be sure to add a more in-depth lighting tut to the list!

[tonyglowheart]

I bought a new car! 😀🚘💨

....I bought a new car.... 😦🥴💸

I now own a car I guess!

I guess since it's raining they won't wash and wax the car huh lmao...

[sigritandtheelves]

i saw a diff anon ask about Scully’s childhood, and I wanted to hear your take on Mulder’s childhood after Samantha was taken. It’s canon that Mulder and his dad were estranged and didn’t talk for years. I assume his mom was really drained because her baby girl was gone, and she still had another kid to worry about. He was upset for both their deaths, and was distraught when his mom had her stroke so he obviously loved her, although more than he loved his dad

[This ask is from last summer, omg… I save them, see? Just taking my time, lol]

Putting this under a cut bc it’s pretty long…

We get a few glimpses into what Mulder’s childhood looked like, and we know that there was quite a lot of pain and misdirected guilt. I’ve seen a lot of fans turn their ire toward Teena Mulder, and I really don’t think she deserved it. Excuse the digression about her life, but I think it’s warranted.

Teena Mulder was born in 1941, which means she was twenty when her son was born. That means she was a teenage bride, not uncommon in the late 1950s/early 60s, but still: she was essentially a child when she was was pulled into a world of powerful men, secrets, and intrigue at the height of the Cold War—tied to a group that we know treated women as disposable: walking wombs to fit a higher agenda of reproducing “better” humans. Bill Mulder may have loved her, but his loyalties were still to a group that saw her only as a pawn and a body to produce children they could experiment on.

Teena had an “affair” with CSM when she was nineteen, probably just as she was learning how truly insidious this group of men was, that her new husband was one of them. Bill Mulder, too, was torn and tortured by the demands of this cabal, but never enough to push back, to quit, to turn against their methods.

Nevertheless, the Mulders gave her child, then children, a happy environment to grow up in. Mulder describes his early childhood (before Samantha was taken) as idyllic. Some of this may be rose-colored glasses looking back, but I also think his parents worked hard to hide the horrors from them. The children were happy, even if Teena wasn’t.

After Samantha was taken, though, the Mulders could no longer pretend or ignore or forget. Teena had no forgiveness to offer her husband: how could she? She loved her son, but she was broken by the loss of her daughter. She had a stroke at age 55!, probably a result of years of trauma and repression: stress on her brain and body from emotional abuse and threats of physical violence. (If you think the project didn’t threaten her, too…) When she is cold to Mulder, this is a trauma response, a survival response: she lives only by pushing down the fact that her whole life was orchestrated by cruel men and out of her control. Mulder’s demands that she tell him what happened are a reminder of that. Neither of her children, in the end, managed to escape this thing.

We know Mulder’s parents fell apart after Samantha was taken, and Bill Mulder absolutely redirected his guilt and shame onto his son, which emotionally traumatized Mulder for life. Mulder saw Samantha’s abduction as a catastrophic event, rather than a culmination of tension: the execution of a plan that had been in the works since before he was born. He thought he could have prevented all the trauma if he’d stopped one single event, and Bill Mulder let him believe that. The truth, of course, was that he never could have prevented her abduction. In the end, Bill was a bad guy, both in his personal actions and his life-long complicity. But Fox Mulder was so desperate for love and absolution that he wanted to forgive his father. And as we saw, that possible moment of absolution was taken from him, too.

I think Teena did still offer her son plenty of love as a teenager, and I think they had a good relationship for the most part, as long as anything to do with “the project” stayed off the table. She loved him, but he was so traumatized by the coldness and guilt his father gave him that he had difficulty appreciating her love. He took her for granted, and ended up turning her into the thing she’d hated being all along: an accessory to the project. That hurt her, and that’s another reason why she seems so cold when we see her—because he only wants to talk to her when it relates to this thing that ruined her life and robbed her of all agency.

So yeah. Mulder is a mess, and it’s mostly Bill Mulder’s (and CSM’s) fault. If Teena had had better resources, she may have been able to get them both out of the whole situation, but given the historical context and the strength of the Syndicate, she was powerless. I think her sense of hopelessness and powerlessness, despite her love for her son, affected his childhood—made him feel even more detached and guilty. Again, how could it not?

[a-libra-writes]

Hey! Could you do these headcanons [💖,💐] for Jaime, or Tyrion? I've been in the GoT fandom “recently” (like a month or two ago?), and I don't see much of them; especially Tyrion (I don't know book-Tyrion yet 👀). I've been reading your blog for a while, and I really like your writings; I'm taking my time to read them again jsjsj. I understand if you don't want to, or doesn't catch your eye; I hope I'm not being rude or anything, but I wanted to try my luck. Please take care and be safe! <3

welcome to our cluuuub! welcome to our cluuuuuub! 

im glad youre enjoying GoT so much, and my blog! You should def give the books a try if you ever have a chance! Book Tyrion is rlly diff in many cool ways, same with Jaime. 

also i uh ... did the thing where i confused the emojis again, so I did “date” for both of them as well LOL oops

💘 Tyrion Date HC

Once Tyrion really starts liking you, he takes you to the loveliest places. We’re talking walks through gardens with little ponds and animals, a covered boat ride on a river, or walking through an exciting market full of Essosi traders. The thing is, he’d never call this “courting”. That makes it too official, too serious. He plays it off as simple visits two friends would make.

He’s excellent at finding out the things you’re interested in. You aren’t aware of it, but Tyrion really pays attention to what you respond to and what you like the most. I mean, he’s already watching you because he loves you, but if you aren’t vibing with an activity and location he’ll take that into consideration for next time.

He has lots of fun experiencing new things with you, period - after you’re together, after you’re married. If he finds out about something new, he’ll tell you so you both can do it together.

Tyrion prefers more private locations, since the court is exhausting and nearly all people he meets don’t like him anyway... but there’s something exciting about having such a pretty girl on his arm, someone who clearly adores him and wants to spend time with him.

Gifts! You tell him he doesn’t have to, but he likes presenting you with little things at the beginning or end of a date. First it’s practical things, so he can brush it off as “You seemed like you could use that”, before it’s just outright pretty jewels and dresses and he has no excuse. At that point it’s because he clearly loves you.

When it’s your name day, he has such a great evening planned out. If you’re married, make that a weekend or a week to travel and enjoy a little mini-vacation. Tyrion is excellent at planning an event in secret, so you have no idea what he has in store until the morning of your birthday.

In a modern AU, he’s not too different - he wants to explore new places and new things. He’d probably live in a city and would always find the strangest hole in the wall places to eat and shop at. If you like books, or records, or clothes, he’s gonna find something really out of the way and specific.

💖Tyrion Pregnancy HC

From the time you announced your pregnancy to the entire 9 months, it was like the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever had. There are SO many thoughts going through his head. Some of them are:

One, he’s delighted you want to have a family with him. Yes, you two are married, but it’s not out of duty to the Lannisters. It’s the ultimate proof you love him, he decides - because there’s a real chance your child could turn out like him, and you don’t care. And he knows you’ll love the child if that happens. He just knows you’ll be a wonderful mother. Second, you clearly express your joy to his family and the courtiers. You’re proud and you don’t care who knows. Third, he thinks about how horrid his own upbringing was, and he’s absolutely 100% determined to be an excellent father. Fourth ...

You get the point. He’s so torn between worry - what if the child is born with a problem, what if you die in childbed, what if he turns out to be a terrible father - and absolute, unbelievable devotion. You thought he was protective and doting before? Nothing is too good for you. You have to tell Tyrion to dial it back a bit, you don’t need new clothes every month and ten sets of silken bedsheets and all this jewelry....

He’s a bundle of nerves the closer the due date is. You two might actually get into spats because you’re exhausted and achey, and he’s just a mess. Jaime actually has to knock sense into him and get him to calm down.

But once your child is born...  it all washes away, like a wave carrying him. He’s so happy. He can’t even function. He wants the hold the child all the time, he wants to see them, talk to them - and he asks so many questions to you and the maester. When will the child talk? When will they walk? Can they understand him? Do they know he’s their father? And so on.

Also, his protectiveness would go through the roof. He would never forbid you from going anywhere or doing anything, but.. he would be obviously nervous if you mentioned you were going travelling or something. 

And it goes without saying he’s keeping extra tabs on Cersei, certain courtiers, maybe his own father. He doesn’t trust any of them for anything.

Bronn will probably get assigned to bodyguard duty for you. He’s clearly not pleased, and you just sigh and dismiss him for the day so you don’t have to listen to his smart mouth.

He likes to feel your stomach, especially when the babe kicks! It relieves his worries that the child might be born “wrong” somehow. The fact they’re kicking, wiggling and moving, seemingly in response to him, makes him feel much better.

💐 Tyrion Family & Kids HC

He’s an excellent father, even though he has his moments of emotional hang-ups. He wants to ensure his child is educated, empathetic and uses their damn head. While he’d be doting and affection, he wouldn’t be a total pushover and can reasonably discipline them. Tyrion is great at talking to children respectfully and treating them like people.

On that note, he has no patience for someone like Cersei or his father trying to butt in on his parenting. He’ll stand up to them and firmly insist he can raise his child on his own, thank you. He won’t take any “advice” or threats from them.

He’d be quite good at figuring out what his children are talented in, and encouraging them. He’s seen what it’s like when a child is forced into a single box and hinge all their worth on that (Jaime) and when they’re looked over and ignored (him and Cersei). 

Yes, he basically decides to do the opposite of whatever his father did.

There would be times when he’d want to educate his children himself, but only on certain subjects - reading and writing, for example. He trusts the maester just fine, he just wants to have that bonding opportunity with them. 

(He’s so proud of all of them no matter what though 😭)

If you’d be up for it, Tyrion would like several children. He’s not 100% on how many, since he’s never really given himself a chance to hope and daydream for a family. He knows he needs a son for the Lannister line to continue, but he’d never force you to continue risking your health for that. Ultimately, however many you want, that’s what he’ll be happy with. If it’s all girls, he’ll love them the same.

💘 Jaime Date HC

It’s actually amusing how bad he is at taking you somewhere interesting. It ends up being an accident - you run into him in a beautiful garden or some obscure part of the Red Keep, and he offers to show you something interesting he found. From there, you two get lost and take a while to find your way back.

... Or you take him somewhere you thought was interesting, and he goes along with it. When you point out that Jaime is pretty bad at this “courting” business, he just scoffs and says that’s definitely not what he’s doing. He’s just visiting with ... a friend ... .... just a friend. Yup.

Another aspect is the fact he’s a Whitecloak, and he might be having to avoid Cersei. That kind of makes things dicey.

However, when he returns from the Dreadfort and that absolute hell of a journey, he’s doesn’t care so much who sees you two. He wants to get away from the Red Keep, even if that’s his duty, so he starts wandering out with you. When Jaime is patrolling on his own and sees a place of interest, he makes a mental note to bring it up to you later. And when he does, and you offer to go with him ... Well, he won’t complain.

Since you two have been so many places, he starts to associate them with you. When he’ll pass by it on his own, he thinks about something you laughed at, or something you told him there. If you ever touched his hand or his face while you two visited a garden, he will remember that touch every single time he passes by. 

After you’ve known each other for a while, and he’s feeling sentimental, he’ll ask, “Do you remember those docks a mile away from the Red Keep? There was a man pushing a cart that had these colorful glasses and wares. You were wearing a blue dress, and when you dirtied it, I carried you around down the street?”

You have no idea where he’s talking about, but that’s the sort of road his memory lane is.

In the modern AU, he’s still pretty terrible at dates. He’s more of the type who wants to wander around with you and just pop into a place that seems interesting - and then he’ll associate you with it. Anytime he sees that cafe chain again, even in a different city, he remembers the hot cocoa you ordered and the little marshmallow mustache you gave yourself.

And honestly, he prefers to stay home with you, cuddling and watching something. He can be as bad as a needy cat when he wants cuddles and attention; you aren’t escaping anytime soon.

💖Jaime Pregnancy HC

Oh no.

Back when Jaime was a boy and lectured endlessly on the duties of a Lannister heir, he didn’t truly understand what that meant. Especially after Cersei coerced him into taking the white cloak, he figured he’d never have children of his own.

... Well. Then there was three. but they never felt like his, which was Cersei’s intention. It was so strange, even if they looked like him, he couldn’t connect Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen to himself.

Also, look who his father is. That’s a lot to unpack.

It’s not until he’s completely left Cersei and lost his sword hand that he starts thinking and seeing things differently. It feels different when you play with the children, when you look longingly at mothers, when he’s intimate with you and you let him finish inside. He starts thinking what it’s like, and that’s scary, considering it never crossed his mind before.

And then he thinks about how his mother died, and what it did to his father. He never openly discusses it with you, but he has nightmares about it. Jaime doesn’t sleep well for a lot of your pregnancy, especially toward the last few months. He does a little better with each child. To distract himself, he takes care of you.

He likes the idea of having two children, a boy and girl, or two boys, but he’s fine with one or more than two. Anything more than four would probably overwhelm him.

Gods save the person who threatens you, even if it’s his sister. His protective instincts go into overdrive, to the point where someone being disrespectful to you on the street will make him want to fight.

💐 Jaime Family & Kids HC

When you tell him, honestly... his first thought is what an awful parent he’d be. He had one example for what a father is like, and he was hardly an influential part in the lives of the three children he sired. You’d have to reassure Jaime and give him confidence, because he has none where this is concerned. He’s positive he’ll screw it up somehow, he’ll be too distant, or too cruel. How do you even hold a baby? What do you say to little ones? He’s going to take care of you, there’s no question of that, but his nervousness is palpable. 

Still, he has such a cute smile when he holds his child - what he considers his first real one - and he right away sees you in them. Their nose, and smile, and eyes. It’s amazing, he decides.

Jaime is a terribly indulgent father. He tries to scold where he can, but more often than not he’s amused by his kid being mischievous. When they pull pranks on guests or get into fights with other kids, he’ll let them off easy if he felt like it was justified. If you’re the more disciplinary parent, the kids totally learn to go to Jaime when they want something.

He’s not overly physically affectionate, but he often ruffles their hair (even if they’re a girl with hair you just braided), gives them rides on his shoulders and lets them sit on his lap and fall asleep. He also has a habit of patting their cheeks or shoulders when he’s pleased.

Jaime didn’t think he’d be excited to teach swordplay and horseback, but he’s so happy when one of his kiddos is interested in both or either. Even if they’re a girl, he can’t help but teach her everything he knows. It also makes him feel better that he has something to teach and pass on even if he lost his sword hand.

Also ... he’s a terrifying papa lion. Do not ever even slightly threaten his children or wife in front of him. His temper and pride will flare and he’ll start a fight right there. 

Related to that, he can fight off Cersei’s cruelty and coldness to you and your children together because he knows how to deal with her. If Tywin disapproved of you in some way, or was trying to take control of how the children were reared, Jaime would genuinely struggle to stand up to him. He doesn’t want his kids to go through the childhood he had, but it’s difficult for him. He won’t go into full “fuck this” mode unless the children are seriously threatened. 

[otomes-world]

Circle

@sweetstrawberrybabe said: Then how about angst? What about the character of your choice in a loop where their s/o over and over again but s/o don’t remember anything while they remember everything. I’m sorry if this is too specific 😃😃☺️☺️🥰🥰💓💓💖💖

I really liked your idea, It was a stright arrow to my heart  Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→ You can imagine anyone character you want to put in place of protagonist. 0/ Also I again take Amnesia plot, so I hope you don`t mind. First part here!

Day follows day, year follows year. An endless circle without an exit, which only she could break. If her memory wasn't erased every time, of course. 

He remembered everything as if it had happened yesterday, he couldn`t forget it, even if he wanted to. He couldn`t afford to plunge into the desired oblivion, couldn`t forgive himself for it. Let the whole world be against their relationship, the young man will continue to fight. It is a pity that with each new time it became more difficult to fight.

The repetitive cycle drove him crazy, brought his physical and mental strength to exhaustion. Even in his wildest fantasy, he didn`t think that someday he would have to challenge fate for real. Trying to wage war against an invisible, but no less almighty, enemy.

It all started with a trifle: an ordinary meeting, which happens several times a day. However, heaven had other plans for that. Like a child who still doesn`t understand how painfully the fire burns, the young man was reaching out to the mysterious prefect from another world. Like a moth flying into the light of a candle, scorching wings in the process, lived from one interaction to another.

He couldn`t do otherwise.

Because there was no other reason why he rushed from one extreme to another. Because, the prefect was the only one who fought for him, when all the others gave up long ago. To abandon his significant other means begining to deny the existence of a human child who put bet on her life for him.

Unacceptable.

The young man well remembered his feelings in the first round of a vicious circle. No, overwhelming despair couldn`t have been dreaming of him, couldn`t be just a dream. The blood on his hands was definitely real, the fluid running through his fingers staining clothes and the ground a bright scarlet. Although what is happening now constantly tested his mind for sainity.

He didn`t remember how he fell asleep, a feeling of fatigue remained in his memory and a stubborn desire to not let go of the cooling body, which testifies to only one thing. Prefect's gone.

So why did he wake up in his bed? Why does everyone act like nothing happened? Why does it feel like this has already happened? Why, when he rushed to the Onboro dorm, she walked out of it happy and completely healthy without a trace of the previous battle?

Why doesn't she remember him?

"Um ... I'm sorry, do you know me?" An innocent question, posed in the light and no less hurting, ringing tone he loved so much. "Sorry, I have to go, have a nice day~!"

Allowing the wind to play with his own strands, the young man froze in place, not taking his eyes off the painfully familiar figure, until it finally disappeared into the surrounding landscape. It was at that moment that a crazy thought occurred his mind. What if... what if fate gave him a second chance? Provide an opportunity to fix everything? He would be a fool to refuse such a thing.

Man has an undeniable advantage, this time he won`t let everything end so badly. He make a destiny to rewrite the world from scratch if necessary, but won't let her die again. Who knew that... this time things would start to develop differently? Who knew Twisted Wonderland would want to get rid of the prefect at any cost?

An endless series of overblots, rigged accidents and natural disasters mingled in his memory in one multi-colored heap. Sometimes the young man envied the blissful ignorance of his soulmate, her naive childish thinking, which allowed her to look at everything from a different angle, her ability to find advantages even in the most hopeless situation. He would like to be able to do the same.

However, no matter how hard it was to start from the beginning, start with acquaintances, and then become something bigger, he couldn`t give up. Stubbornness and a selfish desire to reach a happy ending pushed forward, forced him to bring himself to the edge.

It's time to start the next round of the game.

*

*

*

At this time, the prefect opens eyes again in her bed in familiar room, listening to the squabble of Grim and ghosts. She failed to escape again...

[imaginetheending]

Vacant Chapter 1 Preview

Here is a preview of Vacant chapter 1. To read the rest go to: https://www.wattpad.com/story/254655449-vacant-the-devil%27s-son

Chapter 1

It's hot outside.

Blood and dead bodies occupy the only decent shade. A trail of blood leads to the forest. It's created by Scouts dragging soldiers away by the straps of their boots. Grains of sand are crushed under Rapture's feet as they shift in the sand. He's been acting off since that morning, thinking of something else.

"Where did the furniture come from?" I ask.

In front of us, under the second floor of a three hundred year old building, sits worn down, used dressers, cabinets, and beds against broken and crumbled down walls.

"Probably from one of the traders" he responds.

One of the traders…

I'm impressed. All I own is a rusty mattress and a romance novel I kept when I was captured. These people managed to sneak in an entire dining room set with a working kitchen and chairs. Whoever did this has to work for Imports.

"I want you to come with me," Rapture says suddenly, dragging his fingers over the sides of his mouth.

Rapture is quite scary when you first meet him. His head is shaped like a human skull with hard features extruding from the back. His eyeballs are black just like mine, but he has golden lizard-like irises. After you get to know him, tough, he has a charm. A very sarcastic charm.

Without another word, he starts walking off. Adjusting my gun, I follow him. Angel does, too. The gear makes it hard to tell the difference between us. The only way to identify a Scout is by our bodies. Each species has a different body structure. Especially the legs. Since Angel is the same species as me, we have very similar forms. We both have thick female legs with no feet and big Canals. Compared to humans, our torsos are quite masculine.

Apparently, my big identifier is hips. I have thick thighs. It's true. I can crush a man's head between them, but the observation still feels somewhat perverse. Soldiers make similar comments towards Angel.

Lieutenant Bade, Angel, and I are Rapture's bodyguards. We follow the General around while he does his duties. It's not the most exciting job in the world, but Rapture is the best swordsman on the planet. No one messes with him. It is a safe, cushion position compared to the conditions other soldiers lived in.

"Angel, could you leave us? I want to talk to Siren alone," Rapture says.

We both look at each other. Angel steps back, not sure what to do. It takes a second for him to join the other Scouts.

I follow Rapture into the forest. After a while, it becomes grey. The pale, thin trees cover the bright sky. We walk for hours back to a part of camp I have never seen before. This is dangerous, I thought, for the two of us to be out here alone. However, whatever part of the forest this is, no one visited.

In the distance I see a small wooden cabin between an assortment of tree trunks. It has to belong to a General. No one else is allowed housing. The lights are off for the dusty building, though. We keep walking for another ten minutes, and arrive at an even bigger house -- a small, one bedroom home. Just like the rest of the planet, the exterior looks like old, American human architecture. On RubenDies, you can probably find a house like this for super cheap in a bad part of town, but here -- well, I have never seen anything like it.

Rapture grabs the door handle and yanks it open. The door stutters releasing dust and plant pores into the air. I am careful to breathe it in. He enters.

Dark inside, I can barely see the living room from the front door. Cautiously, I step inside. A thick smell overwhelms me. It's not a bad smell, but it's potent. Like someone lived here for a long time.

Both the living room and kitchen are small. Sun seeps through the closed blinds onto a rusty, old pale, orange refrigerator. The cabinets are dirty -- crusted. A small wooden dining table sits in front of it. There are more than one chair. Multiple people live here. Lived here -- I should say.

"Where are we?" I ask.

Rapture doesn't respond. He just walks between the dining room and living room towards a bedroom in the back. It's the only thing that lit up the hallway. My footsteps are unbelievably heavy on the wooden floors. I don't think Scouts are intended to be in here. The bedroom itself feels frozen in time. Nothing has been touched in years. There are still dirty clothes laying on a white bed sitting in the center of the room. Dust has collected on all of the wooden furniture. There's a couple nightstands and a dresser.

I'm scared to touch anything.

This doesn't bother Rapture at all. He grabs one of the drawers and opens it. After rummaging around, Rapture pulls out a stack of thick, white, plastic paper. He gives them to me, and I realize they're photos. Very small, rectangle photos. Each one is stained with dirt and muck. It's hard to tell what they consist of. The helmet makes it even harder. Rapture talks to me as I look through them, my eyes trying to make out vague shapes and sizes.

Each one shows a very attractive, young man that's the same species as me.

Most of the species outside of the Milky Way don't have names. We found no reason. It wasn't until the Human Reformation that it changed. Humans got confused by our lack of categorization, and decided to introduce a naming system. So, for clarity sake, I'll call our species BSBE.

The young man sits on a hotel bed, arched forward. A gaudy, geometric tattoo covers his sickly, gray, toned back. There are dog tags hanging from his neck. In each photo he is wearing different tank tops. In this one, it's white.

"Zerethus had a son. He escaped ten years ago," Rapture explains.

Oh, I see. I know who Zerethus's son is. Who didn't? The female camp whispered daily about him after his escape. By the time I made it to the male camp, the rumors had died down, however. All I know is that Cain isn't liked very much, and that he is permanent with most of the female camp.

In the second photo, he sits in a swimming pool, shirtless. It's at a wealthy establishment. The orange walls of the fancy hotel reflect off the blue, crystal water. It gave some color to Cain's dull skin.

"Zerethus has been looking for him ever since," Raptures continues as I shift to the next photo.

Cain is smoking a cigarette. He is maybe twelve or thirteen years old. A train of smoke trails to the sky. His expression is calm. Happy.

"I want you to find him before Zerethus does," he says.

My hand freezes. I heard his words clearly, but stammer.

"You want me to find Cain," I ask confused.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

When the soldiers brought me to Edeon, they asked me for my gender. Stupidly, I said female, and was thrown into the female camp. From that day on, my life was shit until I got kicked out. Edeon doesn't like women. They never did, and my presence in female housing left a mark. Everyone knows I lived there. Everyone remembers.

I want to object. Ask him questions.

"No, sir," I respond instead, cowardly.

I would send anyone on this mission but me. The Generals are some of the best fighters in the galaxy. They're trained to search and find targets. As a Scout, I am also trained to do this as well, but I am nowhere near as talented. Finding Cain would be a high profile mission. Only the best of the best would be put on it. I am not the best.

Send Dante. Or Felix. Or Moon. Angel. Reaper. Hades. Pain. Cerberus. Vnux. Serpen. Dalen. Gabriel. Michael. Archer. Rion. Tarli Nobi. Th'Aman. Brani. Xani. Kreniea. A'Zule. Feri/ Q'Urlid. Achan. Meni.

Literally anyone but me.

"Who is my lieutenant?" I ask.

Every soldier gets a lieutenant when sent off the planet. They watch over the group. Make sure everything goes according to plan. If he picked anyone to go with me, he would pick Bade. Bade is pretty good. He'd make up for my lack of skill.

"You are," he obviously lies.

My mouth falls open, "What?"

No, I wasn't. This is the biggest bullshit I have ever heard. First of all, there hasn't been a new lieutenant in over ten years. Second, the only women of power on Edeon are Lieutenant Reaper and General Mourning. No one even knows how they got promoted. Third, if I was promoted, I would be promoted by Zerethus himself. So, something is very fishy.

Rapture cups his hands, and smiles.

"The mission is simple. Give Cain a message. The Devil is looking for his son. He wants to cut off his wings. He'll know what that means."

"Where is he?" I ask.

I remember that I still have the photos dangling in my hands. While he continues, I look at the next one. Now, Cain has his arm draped over Angel's opal, white shoulders. Huh. That's weird. In our species' culture we don't touch each other, but they seem chummy. Either Cain is straight as fuck or they were in a relationship. Bold for him to have this photo as a part of his collection. All homosexuals get killed on this planet. There isn't a warning. It happens suddenly, and mercilessly.

"The Luminary. He works for an agency called The Eye. Goes by Hayze Redborn. Was put on a mission recently to find an Alex Hall. Code name Aex. He's a super hacker."

Cain is butt naked in the next photo. It's in the same room as we are standing in now. He's maybe eighteen. Every detail of his muscles subtly defined, his body is gorgeous. Due to the pose, and moody lighting, this is definitely a selfie. Luckily, the photo cuts off at his penis, but you can still see the top of the shaft. I laugh. Why would you take a photo like this on Edeon? We don't have Be-book. There are no dating profiles or blog posts.

"If you catch Aex, Hayze may follow," Rapture says.

The last photo is the worst. It's just his dick.

This guy took a dick pic.

I roll my eyes. How many women did he try to show this to? Knowing his reputation, he probably sent this to multiple. It's girthy. Long. Blood rushes under his skin creating purple. His skin is smooth. There are only a few faint veins. The top is round and soft. There is no color difference between the tip of his penis and the base, outside of some discoloration. He has a pretty penis. I have to give him that.

"Siren," Rapture scolds venomously and grabs the photo from my hand. He rips it in pieces and then slams it into the dresser.

Oh, shit.

I don't think he knew that was in there.

My hand hangs loosely from where the photo once was. Scared, eyes fixating on him, he's mad. After a moment, he brings his hand to his face and makes a loud sigh. He takes out another sheet of paper from his pocket. This one looked like it was printed off an old printer. It's very faded. It is a much more recent picture of Cain. Cain is much older, and worn down. In the old photos, he is vibrant and active. Here he is dead inside.

His skin is a very healthy baby blue. The black that consumed his eyeballs is clear, and not glossy. A couple other things are off about his appearance, but otherwise Hayze and Cain are identical. Over his shoulders he wore a deep, aqua blue coat. It had a very nice, faintly, shiny, textured material. Under it, he wore a black shirt similar to the ones he wore when he was younger. His dog tags could be seen through his fabric.

Behind him, a short, gray-ish brown overweight being stands at a podium wearing a nice, trim suit. His species is a cousin of Rapture's. They look very similar, but this species has more than two eyes. The overweight being has the appearance of a government official. A banner hangs behind him. It's a symbol I feel like I should recognize.

"What happens after I tell him the message?" I ask.

"Protect Cain with your life," he remarks. To continue reading go to: https://www.wattpad.com/story/254655449-vacant-the-devil%27s-son

[ificanthaveu]

Pep Talks, Braids and Good Luck Charms || The DropBack || Shawn Mendes

Description: The homecoming game is here and Matthew and Elsie are noticing everything you hoped they wouldn’t.

A/N: completely winged this chapter since the only thing i had in my notes for it was “homecoming game, jersey” so i just kinda went with it but i’m actually super happy with how it turned out bc we got a lil bit of drama and insight as to why you are the way you are (kind of...it’s introduced at least)

Word Count: 2.2k

Catch up before you read this part: The DropBack Masterlist

“Hey, [Y/L/N],” Shawn said as he bumped his shoulder against yours as he walked up next to you in the hallway. He held up a paper in his hand with a big smile on his face. You gave him a look as you tried to see what the paper was.

“What you got there, Mendes?” You said as you motioned to the paper he held in front of you. He shrugged his shoulders as he tried to hide the smile on his face.

“Oh, nothing, no big deal. Just an A- on my Physics lab,” he said as you finally ripped the paper out of his hand. 

“You’re kidding,” you said as you smiled over at him. A blush formed on his cheeks as you flipped through his report and looked over his work and the teacher’s comments. “I can’t believe this! You did so good!” Your happiness radiated off you.

“That would be a D- if it wasn’t for you. You’ve literally saved my grade, and I can’t thank you enough,” he said as you handed him the papers back. It was your turn to blush as you looked the opposite way for a moment. 

“It’s not all me. You gotta do the work, too. And you’re trying so hard, and I’m really damn proud of you!” You said as you grabbed his arm and shook him. “Also, you only asked me, like, two questions about this lab. This was all you, hun.”

Shawn couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as you praised him for all of his hard work. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to work on his Physics grade to get into his dream college or just to make you proud. He’d let himself think it was both. 

“You nervous about tomorrow at all?” You asked as the two of you finally stopped in front of his locker. He shrugged his shoulders as he opened his locker and threw his books in there. 

“Yes and no?” He said as he looked over at you.

“Why the confusion?” You said through a giggle. He shrugged his shoulders again as he shut his locker and continued to walk with you to the library for your free period.

“I think we can beat them. Adams has been really good this year, but I think we’ve been better. But the whole team has let this get to their head, and that’s the kind of attitude that ends up with us losing the game,” Shawn rambled as he talked with his hands. “I just don’t want a loss to get in the way of our weekend.”

“And it won’t,” you said as you tried to contain your heart beating out of your chest at how he said ‘our weekend.’ You took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t care if you win or not. Of course, I want you to win, but it won’t be the end of the world if you don’t. You just gotta care about yourself. If you honestly tried your hardest, then that’s all that matters,” you said as the two of you sat down at a table in the back corner.

“You give good pep talks, [Y/L/N],” he said with that smirk on his face.

“I’ve given just a few too many in my lifetime,” you said as you pulled out your binder from your backpack. “I’d like to think I’m pretty good with words.”

“You’re really good with words. I, on the other hand, am not,” Shawn said as he gave you a look.

You rolled your eyes at him. “You are doing fantastic today with tearing yourself down. Boost that confidence, Mendes. You need it.”

“Yeah,” he trailed off as he stared down at the empty table in front of him. 

You began to work on the math assignment in front of you as you barely noticed Shawn just sitting there. 

“Will you wear my jersey?” He finally blurted out. 

You looked over at him, and you could see his hand shaking on the table. You smiled at him and nodded your head.

“Of course I will,” you said softly. “Is that really why you were so nervous?”

Shawn sighed as he leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. You kept your laugh to yourself as he looked over at you again. “Don’t laugh,” he said as he hung his head back. 

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, Mendes. Star of the football team, heartthrob of the school, already asked me to homecoming, and you could barely ask me to wear your jersey?” You questioned as he leaned his head on his hand and looked at you.

“You make me nervous,” he said just barely loud enough for you to hear. He dropped his head into his arms on the table as you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face or the blush on your cheeks. You gave him a moment to mope before speaking up again.

“Alright, bud. We’ve got a Physics test next Wednesday, so grab your binder so we can get studying,” you said as you tapped on the back of his head. 

He groaned as he pulled out his binder and flipped to his practice problems. The two of you were silent as you both worked on the first one.

“I don’t get it,” he finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Of course you don’t,” you whispered. He shoved your shoulder lightly before you leaned over and began to explain the problem to him, but he didn’t hear a word of it. Instead, he watched as you explained it, occasionally motioning around to get your point across.

He was definitely fucked.

—

“I was told to give this to you,” Matthew said as he gave you a look and handed you the jersey in his hands. You blushed as you grabbed it out of his hands and threw it in your locker. Elsie grabbed it out before you could shut it.

“You’re wearing his jersey?” She said just a little too loud as you grabbed it back and shut it in your locker.

“God, keep it down,” you whispered to her as you pushed her away from your locker. 

“What? Everyone will see it tomorrow,” she complained.

“And it’ll look just like the jersey I wear every other time when I leave my hair down,” you told her as you avoided both of their eye contact.

“What’s your problem?” Matthew said in a slightly-too-harsh voice. 

“I like Shawn. He’s great. But I don’t want the whole damn school thinking we’re together when we’re not.”

“What’s so bad about people thinking you’re together? It’s bound to happen eventually,” Elsie said. 

“I don’t think it will,” you mumbled.

“You’re joking, right?” Matthew said through a laugh. Elsie shot him a look, and he quickly caught on to what was going on. 

Everyone stayed silent as the three of you continued walking towards the field for Matthew’s practice.

“You have to stop thinking that nothing good is ever going to come to you,” Matthew finally whispered. You were about to say something when he held his hand up and stopped you. “I get it, but it’s obvious that Shawn really likes you. Don’t push him away just because you think you don’t deserve something good.”

You didn’t say anything. It had always been an unspoken thing. Finding love, a boyfriend, someone to like you, wasn’t a thing you all talked about anymore. You snapped any time Matthew tried to set you up or Elsie questioned you about a guy you were talking to. Eventually, they just dropped it. Until Shawn showed up.

“It’s not worth it, Matthew. I know nothing is going to come of this,” you replied.

“Why can’t it?” He tested.

“It’s senior year. I just met him. We’re out of here in a few months. We’ll probably end up going to different colleges. I fuck everything up anyway. Do you need me to keep going? Or are those enough reasons?” You said to Matthew as you could feel the frustration hitting you. You started taking deep breaths to try to calm yourself down as they both stayed quiet.

“Hey, guys!” You heard from behind you as Shawn jogged up to the three of you. You plastered a smile on your face as you all said hello and acted like nothing was going on. You talked as you made your way to the field to drop Matthew and Shawn off before you and Elsie would head home.

You stood by the gate for a minute as you watched Matthew and Shawn make their way to the center of the field.

“Listen,” Elsie started.

“Don’t,” you warned. 

“No, shut up for once,” Elsie snapped. You stayed silent. “I get it. You haven’t really had many great love influences in your life, let alone a relationship of your own, but that doesn’t mean it’s completely hopeless. Yeah, it’s senior year, but who cares if he isn’t the love of your life? He can easily be a guy you date through the rest of the year and then decide your better off as friends. Not everything is as black and white as you think it is. I see you with him. You melt every time he looks at you, but any time we bring him up after he walks away, your walls go up again. You’re allowed to enjoy this.”

“That’s easy for you to say when you met the love of your life sophomore year of high school,” you said as you leaned back on the fence and kicked at the gravel. “El, I wish I could just be open to it like everyone else is, and trust me, I’ve tried, but it’s not that easy.”

Elsie threw her arm around your shoulder as the two of you began to walk to her car. 

“I know, I get it. Just don’t count Shawn out just yet.”

—

You didn’t wear your hair down the next day. Instead, you put it into two braids down your back, so everyone could tell that it wasn’t your last name across your jersey. Even if you didn’t believe this, you were at least going to show everyone you were making an effort. 

The school was loud that morning. Everyone was buzzing about plans for that night and for the rest of the weekend. Your school colors were extra everywhere as everyone dressed in them as well as decorated the walls. 

You walked up to Elsie and Matthew, and you obviously saw the look they gave each other when they noticed the jersey and the hair. 

“Don’t say anything,” you warned. 

“I would never,” Matthew said as he gave you the sweetest smile. 

You felt an arm around your shoulder and looked up to see Shawn. He winked at you.

“There’s something different about you. Is that a new jersey?” 

“Oh, this old thing? Nope, same one I’ve worn every game for the past three years,” you teased as he rolled his eyes at you. The bell rang, and Elsie slammed her locker and motioned for you to go to first period. 

“You look good in my jersey, [Y/L/N],” he yelled after you as you walked away. You turned around and looked at him as he leaned against the locker and waited for Matthew. 

“Thanks, Mendes,” you said before turning around, your braids ending up over your shoulders, with ‘Mendes’ completely visible. 

—

This was not an easy game. You and Elsie have been gripping each other's hands for most of it as the score kept going back and forth. As much as you didn’t want this to impact tomorrow, you knew Matthew and Shawn would take this to heart.

There were thirty seconds left of the final quarter, and Monroe was down by six. All they had to do was make the touchdown and the extra point, and they’d have the game. 

You kept your eyes on Shawn as the quarterback yelled ‘hut,’ and he darted to the far corner of the end zone. Everything went in slow motion as the quarterback threw the ball towards Shawn. Like a movie, Shawn caught it perfectly, and the stands erupted. 

You and Elsie couldn’t stop screaming as you jumped up and down with the rest of the student section. 

The kicker scored the extra point, and you and Elsie were sprinting to the exit to wait for Matthew and Shawn. 

Matthew came out first, sprinting towards Elsie as she jumped into his arms and non-stop congratulated him. You were obviously distracted until you felt an arm wrap around your waist from behind, lift you up and spin you around. A laugh erupted from your chest as Shawn finally set you down, and you turned and saw his beaming smile. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him with all your strength. 

“And with the game-winning touchdown, number 55, Shawn Mendes!” You yelled and imitated the announcer as Shawn laughed at you. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, your chest pressed against his. 

“I’m thinking that you in my jersey must be my good luck charm,” he said low enough so just you could hear it. You rolled your eyes at him and shoved his chest.

“You’ve won every other game this season,” you said. It was his turn to roll his eyes at you. 

“Must just be the number.”

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tags: @peacedolantwins2 @shawn-youth @t-holland2080 @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @particularnervous @mariamuses @shawnsvlogsquad @theetherealbloom @innocentb3an @haute-shawn @gigi-maria-argu @athenamikaelson @marvelousmendess @madon566 @thewackywriter @shawnwyr @kitty084 

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[loversoon]

Almost Is Never Enough.

Word count: 3,162

Pairing: Roger Taylor & Reader, can also be Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor & Reader

Warning(s): Very angsty and emotional. Also contains a bit of smut so discretion is adviced.

Summary: She huffed, pulling herself up from the stool and forcing herself out of the room, out of their house, out of his life. She tried, she did. And maybe someday the universe will bring them back together again for another cup of coffee. They almost won, but sometimes almost is never enough.

or

The one where their love ended up with them being two worlds apart.

Walking past the university door, she was almost immediately pushed back as a warm body collided into her small one. The collision resulted in warm coffee spilling all over her coat and the person that bumped into her.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" She gasped as she took in the damage, immediately reaching into her backpack as she pulled out napkins. The person chuckled at her poor attempts of drying the already cold coffee off the already soaked shirt. She looked up briefly, to be met with a beautiful set of eyes.

Soft and dark shades of ocean blues danced in his irises, almost creating a swirling pattern. The same colors as the waves of the ocean that would crash along the sea shore. Eyes gazed with amusement as a light smirk made it's way into his slightly-chapped plump lips. His aura was intimidating, yet captivating. He was beautiful. Alluring and prepossessing.

As she gazed into his soft eyes, his mind was set on how magnetic she felt. The Y/E/C eyes that gazed into his own gave him a sense of enchantment, she was bewitching and fascinating. She brought her closer to him with just a look from those beautiful eyes.

And that's how it all began. As clićhe and cheesy as it may sound, it was almost as if that cup of coffee was the universe's way of bring two lovers together. If the timing wasn't right then god knows they wouldn't have found themselves in each other's arms. They were never one to believe in a thing such as love, already having learned from past heartbreaks that it takes a lot to fall in love with a person, and with just a flick of a lever, they found each other falling deep.

Those eyes that she loved dearly, peering down at her with such admiration. Melting her into a small puddle on the ground as the softest of smiles adorned her pretty lips. It was fairly easy for her to fall in love with him. How can you not? He was perfect in her eyes. The man she always found herself daydreaming about in her middle-school years, her dreams were finally coming true, and he was one of them.

Months passed by like a blur with each moment spent together. Months felt like hours when they were singing along to their favorite song on the car radio, or when they were laughing at something the other person said. Time flies by fast when two people are in love.

For him it feels surreal how he has finally found someone he cherished, someone he cared for. He wasn’t one for cheesy romances, but he wasn’t heartless either. He may have moments where he feels like he won’t need somebody else in his life to complete him but deep down a part of him yearned to fall in love with somebody.

The day he found her, he’d just gotten out of a class, with a piece of paper that he wasn’t too proud of. Failing tests wasn’t something he was quite fond of, but things happen. With a big sigh, he walked out of the classroom, eyes casted down as he pondered about what he would have to do increase his math grade, he wasn’t paying attention to anything that happened around him. With a cloudy mind and a heavy heart, he didn’t notice the frail body that he bumped into.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” A girl softly gasped as she reached for tissues in her backpack, he closed his eyes in sheer frustration before opening them again, to see her hastily trying to wipe away the spilled coffee that’s already soaking his white shirt. He can’t help as a chuckle left his mouth at the poor attempts that this girl was offering. Eyes meeting his, his whole mood just about lifted as the amount of softness she radiates seeps into his heart.

After the accidental meeting, she offered to buy him a new shirt, him declining and claiming that a “cup of coffee would just be fine, love”.

The cup of coffee at the café across the street led them to a different path, metaphorically speaking of course. They found themselves loving each other endlessly.

Those same eyes peered up at him as soft moans emitted from her cherry red lips. Elbows on either side of her head as he slowly rocked his hips into hers. The warm cozy feeling of lit candles, the smell of lingering sex, soft moans and deep groans filled the night air as they professed the love they had for each other physically.

“I love you, I love you so much,” He groaned into her ear as his thrusts started speeding up, moans spilling from his lips as she pursed hers together, wondering if he meant what he said or if he was just driven by the force of lust filling his veins.

His groans getting louder as his climax neared, eventually coming undone in the condom, he kissed her forehead lightly before taking off the rubber and rolling over to his side of the bed. Silence seeped into the night air as neither of them found the right words to speak. He’s aware that he let himself slip, the three words he was planning to tell her maybe after a nice dinner slipping in a moment of euphoria instead. It terrified him how he never heard her say it back.

“Rog?” A soft voice slipped him out of his trance, humming in reply, he casted his eyes towards her.

“Did you mean what you said?” An unsure, small voice left her as she looked at him hopefully. That was enough to break him as he leaned into her for a longing kiss.

“I do, God, I do,” He pulled away, a warm smile found it’s way on her lips as her glossy eyes found his. “I love you too, so much,”

Now those same eyes he’d fallen in love with so easily peered up at him with tears, not because of how much she was in love with him, but because of the words he let himself slip just moments ago.

With his band reaching a more successful state, he was getting busier with recording and writing sessions at the nearby studio. He was out almost all day everyday, arriving home late at night with a barely there peck on her forehead as he slipped into the covers next to her. She knew he’d been busy, and she understood too. She was always proud of how far he’s come with his dream career, with the years they’d spent together, drumming was almost always something he was doing. He was so passionate about it and when he finally received the well-deserved success, she was so immensely proud of him.

But of course, with the amount of success he’s receiving comes sacrifices. Touring for months on end was in despicably annoying but if they wanted to keep food in the fridge then it had to be done. Given just a few weeks of alone time together before he’d have to start with the next album, she always took great advantage of the few weeks they had.

But this time it was filled with late nights at the pubs with her left alone wondering if he’d come back home to her in one piece. It worried her greatly how her lover seemed to spiral uncontrollably into something she wasn’t very proud of. It hurt her deeply but she didn’t want to be a bother, she knew how hard he worked on the last tour and he deserved to have a few nights of getting crazy drunk. But those nights turned into weeks and before they both knew it, he was set to start the recording of their latest album.

If the excessive amounts of partying on his side didn’t cause a rift between their relationship, this one definitely did. He was rarely home, sometimes not coming home for days straight, and when he did come home, it would be late at night when he knew she was fast asleep. Gone before she even wakes up from her slumber.

She felt this distance between them causing something in their relationship, and she wasn’t quite ready to admit it to herself yet.

On the nights that he didn’t come home, she would find herself longing for him, emotions expressed with the tears dripping down her cheeks. She pondered about how fast everything was taken away from her, wondered about what she did to have possibly set her lover away from her and thought about how she could fix it.

With the effort of waking up a few minutes before him, she slaved in their kitchen to cook him a healthy breakfast, as a way of expressing the amount of love she still had in every cell of her fibre for him. As she heard his footsteps patting against the wooden staircase, excitement filled her as she placed the plate of eggs and bacon on the kitchen aisle.

He was definitely surprised when he saw her with a large grin with a plate of freshly cooked breakfast nicely put on the aisle. “I cooked you breakfast,” she softly exclaimed. He moved past her, grabbing himself a cup of water to fill his rumbling stomach. “I’m not hungry,” He muttered. A clear white lie, if he was paying attention then maybe he would’ve noticed how she seemed chest fallen at his words.

“But I-uh, I cooked you something to fill your tummy,” she trailed, he huffed before replying with a sterner voice, “I’m not hungry, Y/N.” He hoped for this conversation to end. He wasn’t about to tell her off and possibly create an argument at seven in the bloody morning. He had things to do.

“But I-“, “I said I’m not hungry, Y/N!” He roared, with anger coursing through his veins, the glass cup slipped from his hands and onto the floor. Chest heaving in frustration, he set his eyes on her. Scared and afraid, she trailed her eyes on the broken pieces of glass. He huffed, “I’m going, don’t call me.” He spit out harshly before making his way to the front door and out of the house.

Tears filled the brim of Y/N’s eyes to the point where she couldn’t keep them in anymore. Silently picking up the larger pieces of glass and accidentally cutting her skin open. The way the pain felt from the cut on her finger was different from the pain she felt from her chest. It felt like someone was squeezing her heart, the pain was almost unbearable as her chest heaved up and down with her attempts to take deep breaths. Pulling herself up and settling on the stool, she pulled herself back together as endless thoughts raced through her mind.

Was he falling out of love? He can’t be. He promised her he wouldn’t. With the countless times they professed the amount of love they have for each other during late night talks when either of them can fall asleep, he can’t fall out of love that easily. Not when she was still so madly head over heels for him even through the distance that they had for months on end.

Sobs wracked from her body, palm over her mouth as an attempt to keep them shush herself, he can’t just walk away, not like that and not without fighting for their love.

She was unknowingly the only one fighting for what’s left in their relationship for months. Now that she’s thought about it, everything suddenly clicked and every cloudy thoughts she’d have over the past month suddenly came back to her in full clarity.

That explains the barely there kisses, the way he seemed uninterested whenever she made the effort to spark conversation between the both of them, the short phone calls during the times he was gone that consisted of an “I miss you” and a “good bye”, and he always seemed to be in a rush to end phone calls, as if he wasn’t even interested in hearing her speak about her undying love for him. And he hasn’t touched her, not even once during the whole month and a half he was back home.

The she realized. He can’t possibly be having an affair with someone else, right? He can’t do that to her, he won’t do that to her. Because he promised her that she’ll be the only one he’ll ever love.

More sobs poured out of the poor girl’s mouth, the sound of the miserable sobs covering the sound of her fragile heart breaking into two. She felt so heartbroken she couldn’t think straight. It was almost as if her body was just functioning by itself. The amount of sadness coursing through her veins automatically setting her tear ducts to produce as much tears, pouring out until she had no more left to cry.

And there she sat for hours on end, staring into space as her mind was left blank. The tears have stopped pouring and her cheeks sticky from the dried tears. She felt exhausted but she can’t find the strength to pull herself up. Just as she was trying to regain herself, the front door opened. His arrival didn’t settle in her mind before he stood at the door way of the kitchen. His eyes set on the smaller shards of glass, the dust pan filled with bigger shards of the broken glass and the broom laid flat on the floor. They widened at the sight of her, hair a bit matted and cheeks glistening, he can her the rumbles of her hungry stomach from the distance between the stool and the doorway.

He cleared his throat in an attempt to catch her attention. Eyes meeting his, he felt his heart break slightly. The usual sparkle and brightness that captivated him in the first place was replaced with dullness, the only sparkle in her eyes were the glossiness that took over right when she set her gaze on him.

The two of them stayed in silence before she cleared her throat. The sadness in her heart was replaced with anger, how can he just stand there and pretend he never left her alone in silence, with a broken heart?

“I just wanna know why you’re doing this,” She muttered quietly, he huffed in response. “What do you fucking mean?” He’s getting frustrated now, coming home after a long day at the studio to no food prepared and yet another argument striking. “Do you even love me still? Why have you given up on us?” The tone of her voice was sharper, louder. The words that came out of her mouth hurt him, was she seriously doubting the love he had for her? Yeah, he’s been distant lately, but he’s been busy working to keep the lights on and the warm food in their stomachs.

“Are you seriously gonna go there?” He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, if she wasn’t angry before, she definitely is now. “Just answer my god damned fucking question!” She yelled at him, catching him off-guard and the atmosphere was getting stuffier as each moment passes by. She was never hostile, and she has never raised her voice when it comes to arguments that they’ve shared throughout the years, this was purely new territory to him. Silence engulfed the air once again, silent enough that you could hear the tiniest feather drop.

Then his brows furrowed, as anger coursed through him once again. He glared at her, but this time, he was met by a look of betrayal, hurt and anger. Not an ounce of the old Y/N was left in the aura of the person right across him. The once bubbly, bright and radiant person was replaced with one that radiated pure and sheer anger.

“You know what? I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve to be treated like shit! Especially by someone like you!” She yelled at him, “You ask me why I fell out of love, then you go ahead and act like such a bitch!” He spits out, his anger was taking the best of him, the air was tense and the fierce look on her face quickly crumbled to a one of hurt and emotion.

Her head hurt as she desperately tried to keep the tears inside, she can’t show him how much everything is affecting her, “I just wanna know why you’re giving up on us, Rog. Please. I just- I- This-this isn’t like us, Rog.” She pleaded as a tear escaped, quickly wiping it off her cheek.

“I do love you still,” His voice softened. Hope filled her eyes, quickly shattered by what came out of his mouth next, “But I just don’t feel like we’re working out,” He muttered softly at her, afraid that he might break her any further.

And she let them be. The tears sped down her cheeks as a loud sob emitted from her chest, her heartbreak was imminent from the amount of tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight of the broken girl in front of him caused a few tears to pool in his eyes.

“So this is it, huh?” She chuckled dryly as she forced herself to face him, take all of him one more time before she would have to bid good bye to the love and the memories shared. “You’re just giving us up like that?” She whispered, “It’s not like that lo-“, “Then what exactly is it, Roger?” She hiccupped, the sight of him tearing up was breaking her heart even more, “Because from what I understand, you’re just gonna give us up without even trying to make the effort to make things work,” She spoke, “I did my part, Rog. I tried fixing us, but I can’t just fix a relationship with two fucking people by myself,” She cried and yet again, she was mer by silence. He set his gaze on the floor and unable to find the right words to speak to her, a few tears strolling down his cheeks.

She huffed, pulling herself up from the stool and forcing herself out of the room, out of their house, out of his life. She tried, she did. And maybe someday the universe will bring them back together again for another cup of coffee. They almost won, but sometimes almost is never enough.

-

hi :) i hope you liked this one! feedback is welcomed, please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed this one, it would mean so much to me. if you wanna be added to my taglist, the link is on my profile! thank you for reading <3

taglist:

@prince-lucifer-v

[thetrashywritingwitch]

Hello lovely!! I request bakugouxreader (female) where the class has vacation on Hawaii and they're greated by the local girl (reader) and bakugou is all blushy cuz she is frickin cute. She gives them the tour of the island hang with the class when they go to the beach swimming, playing volleyball and at night her and some other girls make a welcome party for the heroes where they do the traditional dance (moana style) at the party bakugou finally has courage to come to her and confesses. Thanks

OK i needed to write something fluffy and colorful so YOU GET A FLUFF, AND YOU GET A FLUFF, AND WE ALL GET A FLUFF! (also I looked into it since I didn’t wanna tread into Samoan traditions or Hawaiian traditions even though they’re both part of Polynesia, and Moana is set in a sort of amalgamation of a lot of diff areas vs somewhere specific. but, since you specifically say Hawaii I’m gonna base some things off Lilo and Stitch if that’s alright since I’ve never been to Hawaii and I wanna try and be respectful of indigenous and native cultures)

As soon as everyone stepped off the plane all Bakugo wanted to do was go to sleep with some peace and quiet. The flight was far too long, and being cooped up in a small area with his loud classmates with no escape wore on his absolute last nerve. The only good thing so far was the weather - hot and sunny, just how he liked it. Getting some rest was what he wanted to do, anyway…but Aizawa and All Might had other plans. 

“Alright, listen up,” Aizawa called out over the mixture of tired and excited teenagers. “We’ll be going to the hotel to drop off your things, but after that we’ll be led around on a bit of a tour. If you get lost, it’s your own fault.” All Might sighed as Aizawa walked away, already starting to sweat in his all-black getup. 

“Yes, he’s right, students. I know everyone’s excited for this small break we’ve been allowed, so let’s not take advantage of the opportunity to learn about new people and cultures.” Of course Midoriya nodded vigorously in agreement, and a few other people like Ashido and Kaminari cheered, but others were still waking up from the overload of new information, smells, and landmarks. 

Aizawa and All Might led everyone towards the hotel, where a group was waiting for them in preparation of the tour. “Aloha, everyone!” A chipper voice called out to the group, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I’ll be your tour guide and translator while you’re here. We’re so glad to participate in this trip with you all. Hosting heroes in training and someone as well-known as All Might is very flattering.” 

You looked about the same age as the rest of the students and introduced yourself and the two other assistants behind you. Most everyone paid rapt attention to who would be their guide for the trip, but Bakugo’s eyes were glued to your face more than anyone’s…and he had no idea why, all he knew was he felt weird and it pissed him off. 

“Bro, you alright? Are you overheating or something? Is that even possible because of your quirk?” Kirishima’s voice beside him snapped Bakugo out of whatever bizarre trance ensnared him. 

“Hah? The hell are you talkin’ about?” he asked angrily. 

“Your ears are red,” Kirishima stated before turning back to the girl still talking at the front of the group. Bakugo nearly blew the handle off his travel bag at that. He was tired; yeah, tired and annoyed. His sleep schedule would be messed up for a few days and they were five hours ahead with the timezone change. Yeah, that was definitely it. Nothing else. 

Everyone had roommates, and his was, of course, Kirishima - the person he tolerated most easily. If it had been Kaminari, who he knew was a loud snorer or god forbid Deku he would have thrown a fit. After putting up their bags and changing clothes everyone headed back downstairs. 

The odd feeling from before had gone away, but as soon as they walked downstairs and met you again for a tour around the area Bakugo felt weird all over again. Not knowing made him frustrated, but what he did know was following your smile around all day didn’t sound all that bad. 

On the tour you pointed out landmarks and explained history of buildings and structures, at one point stopping by a food stand selling poke and explained that, while it shared a few similarities with sushi, there were definite differences. Bakugo had always been a good student, having no trouble memorizing and recalling facts, but even now while on a “study vacation” he made sure to remember everything you talked about. You scaned over the group to make sure no one was left behind, and every time you eyes landed on him, he’d freeze. His odd behavior didn’t go unnoticed by a certain red-head. 

During the tour you also made a point to speak to everyone individually, wanting to know more about their quirks and life in Japan. Eventually you sauntered up to Bakugo while your assistants led the way. He normally ran warmer than most, but even under the blaring sun he felt unusually hot all of a sudden. 

“You’re…Bakugo, right? The one with the yellow hair said you aren’t the nicest person, which was in itself kinda mean…but I’m sure that’s not true. I can tell you’re just serious, is all.” Words tried to come out, but his mouth fell agape before he closed it with a clack of his teeth, knuckles white stuffed into his pockets. 

“Pikachu is an idiot,” he blurted out. It took you a moment to understand, but when you did your laugh echoed in his ears. 

“Because of his hair and quirk! Do you have nicknames for all your friends?” Bakugo didn’t know if you was just being polite or if you actually cared, but either way he was Bakugo fuckin’ Katsuki and he wasn’t intimidated by anything. 

So he spoke, and you listened, and only once did Sero try to trip him with some tape which promptly ended the conversation. 

When the day was over and everyone filtered back into the hotel with stomachs full of delicious local food, all anyone wanted to do was shower and sleep. “Get some rest, we’ll be setting off at 9 in the morning. Meet down here, don’t be late,” Aizawa ordered as the class fought over the elevators, everyone wanting to get up to their floor faster than everyone else. 

“Bakugo,” Kirishima whispered in the darkness of their shared room. “You asleep?”

“Not anymore, fuckface,” he groaned. “What is it?”

“I knew you were acting kinda off today…but I think I’ve figured out why.” All Bakugo wanted to do was sleep, but if Kirishima had an answer to the problem he’d been having all day, he’d listen. 

“Whatever just tell me.”

“You totally have a crush on (y/n), our tour guide girl.” Whatever Bakugo expected to spill out of Kirishima’s shark-toothed mouth, that definitely was not it. He was about to argue - loudly - and possibly wake up everyone on their floor, but the bed was unfamiliar and the sheets smelled like weird soap and all he wanted to do was feel energized for the next day when they would go to the beach. 

“Shut up,” was all he managed to get out before turning his back towards Kirishima and closing his eyes once more. “Stupid…” Definitely stupid. 

Too bad for Bakugo the next day proved just as frustrating as the first, only now Kirishima’s late night words ran on repeat in his head like a broken record. “Crush? I don’t have a damn crush,” he mumbled to himself while sitting on the beach, watching Tsuyu swim laps easily around everyone else in the water while Todoroki made makeshift snowcones to alleviate people from the heat. 

“Bakugo?” A familiar voice came from his right, and there you were, hovering over him with a concerned look. “Why aren’t you out with your friends in the ocean? Sometimes the waves can be dangerous, but today it looks perfect for swimming.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, none the wiser to someone keeping an eye on him from the opposite side. “Water interferes with my quirk, so I stick to dry land.” It was true, so it wasn’t really an excuse…though it still felt like a poor explanation. 

“Hmm, I see. Still, I don’t want you to miss out on anything - oh! Volleyball! No water involved, perfect!” Without waiting for an answer you grabbed Bakugo’s arm and yanked him over towards a volleyball net where Shoji, Uraraka, Ojiro, Ashido, and Sato were playing. This? This he could do - plus he could show off a bit in the process. 

Kirishima watched from his own beach towel, plotting on how to get his friend to tell the cute tour guide how much of a sap he really was. 

When the air turned chilly and the sun had set, everyone gathered round a bonfire on the beach while (y/n) and another group got together to perform a traditional dance for the class. All Might was enjoying himself thoroughly on the first vacation he’d had in years, leis around everyone’s necks as the light of the fire shifted on dancing limbs and concentrated faces. 

Bakugo couldn’t take his eyes off you, leading the group with deliberate and practiced moves in the firelight. Once again Kirishima noticed Bakugo’s unwavering stare, and nudged him when Aizawa wasn’t looking. 

“Say something to her later,” he whispered. Bakugo just furrowed his brows. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Didn’t think you were such a coward, man.” Uh, coward? Coward?! Bakugo Katsuki was certainly no damn coward. He could talk to her...and he would! FUCK IT HE COULD SAY SOMETHING LATER ON! 

Kirishima knew that saying Bakugo couldn’t do something was the perfect way to get him to do it. 

When the dancing was over and everyone sat by the fire to relax and eat the presented meal, Kirishima went and sat next to Kaminari, leaving a perfect opening for (y/n) to sit next to Bakugo. 

Shit, he thought, paranoia hitting him finally. The hell am I supposed to say?

“Did you like the dance?” you said before taking a bite of food. “We practiced a lot before you all got here. I don’t think I messed anything up, but I guess if I did you wouldn’t really know. It’ll be our secret.”

“It was good.” He was so shit with words. You were used to his curt responses by now. “I didn’t wanna go on this trip. Thought it was a waste of time. I could be back home training, getting stronger.”

“Everyone needs a break, though...and you all have already faced villains, right? Taking time for yourselves isn’t bad.” You stared into the fire, and Bakugo cut his flaming eyes towards you. “Do you still wish you were back home?”

It took a minute for him to answer, mulling over his words while a hand fiddled with the flowers around his neck. “Nah,” he finally said, and he watched you smile. “It’s not total shit.”

You nudged him in the shoulder before finally looking his way. “I’m glad. I think you’ll like it here.”

And for once he agreed that you might actually be right. 

[bubble-tea-bunny]

satellite

[peter parker x reader]

author’s note: reading you by caroline kepnes inspired me to play around w pov and try something a lil diff in style. had a lot of fun w it and i hope you enjoy! (kinda funny the last time i tinkered w pov it was also in a fic for ps4 peter ha)

word count: 2,929 

It’s Aunt May’s suggestion that it would be good to give my eyes a break from staring at screens so much and for so long that initially gives me the idea to come here, but it’s the conversation I have with a stranger on the subway this morning about the book he’s reading that actually prompts me to stop by after work. I had every intention of seeking out that novel for myself; the description on the back cover about the story already sounded interesting, and the details shared by the man in the black beanie made it even more so. But I quickly realize how easy it is to get sidetracked in a bookstore, and instead of heading straight for crime and mystery, I’m strolling past comics and scanning the titles, first for ones I recognize so I can think to myself Hey, I know that! like we tend to do when we spot something we are familiar with and that little corner of our brain lights up at spotting what is thought to be long forgotten.

The pages of these graphic novels are glossy, smooth beneath my fingers, and the colors are bright and I see myself in several of them slinging webs through a cartoon New York, and yellow boxes in the corner of each panel are denoting the time of day and the current scene’s setting, and big words like BAM! and POW! punctuate every heavy hit and at the end of every strip, all of it is just another day for Spider-Man. I have to admit, it’s sort of surreal having comics about me. Not that they are technically about me. The alter ego in these stories is Nathaniel Patterson and he’s got blonde hair and blue eyes and he’s quite the looker.

I slide the comic with its shiny cover back into its spot on the shelf and I think I turned one of the pages wrong because the pad of my index finger stings like I’ve sliced it. My brows furrow as I check to see if I’m right, if it’s begun to bleed, and the smell of fresh books is strong, but the smell of strawberries is stronger.

I pause. I glance up and look for the source, and I’ve just missed it. Just missed you. I catch a glimpse of you continuing down the aisles, and you’re blocked from view by the tall shelves and there are no gaps through which to see you because they’re packed so snug with books but even if they weren’t, these types of shelves have a wall in the middle. I contemplate leaving it well enough alone, but the scent of my favorite fruit lingers in the air and it’s strangely strong to still be so apparent, like you’d been standing near me.

So I leave the comics and go in the direction you’d gone, glancing into each section and trying not to be obvious about it, obvious about the fact I’m looking for someone. I read a few of the titles in each aisle, and I’m taking them in, I am, since maybe along the way I’ll find a book I do want, but it’s done half in earnest because it is incredibly easy to get sidetracked in a bookstore.

Then I see you, in the set of shelves across from mine, a table in the space between us with staff picks for the month. You’re in crime and mystery and your nose is buried in a novel. I wonder what you’re reading. You flip through the pages, stop to read a paragraph or three, and flip through some more. When you’ve had your fill of that, you close the book and read the information on the back. It’s been chilly in New York lately so you’re in a sweater, and the sleeves slide over your hands as you grip the novel because they’re too long. You try to pull them up so the fabric bunches in the bend of your elbows, but it doesn’t work and they just droop back down.

For all my efforts of being subtle as I walked through the shop searching for you, I forget it when it’s most crucial, and I’ve stared too long and you look up and you notice me, and my stomach jumps at being caught and I probably seem like a creep. Nice one, Peter. Getting flustered around pretty girls is right up your alley.

I swallow, and I smile slightly to ease the awkwardness and show you I’m not being creepy, I swear, and the heavens are watching out for me because you smile back, lips shining with lip balm you’ve no doubt applied to protect them from the harsh wind outside. And I am melting. I’m melting like an ice cream cone in the summer and suddenly I want to ask what your favorite ice cream flavor is.

Your eyes slide from mine off to your left (my right) just for a second, before they meet mine again, and then return to the book in your hands. I can see the slight curl of your mouth as you turn to the bookshelf in front of you and put the book back, then continue reading the spines until one stands out and you pull it out to do the process all over again. But I’m caught up on what you had looked at fifteen seconds ago, for the briefest of moments, easy to miss but being me (being Spider-Man) has forced me to be more attentive, and I glance to my right (your left) and I see the bookshelf. My eyes slide up higher to the sign. I’m in romance.

My cheeks grow warm and you probably think I’m in this bookstore looking for love like the protagonist of half the novels on this shelf. You probably find it amusing, and I think you might even laugh if it weren’t so quiet in here, and I should be embarrassed but I’m not. I like the thought of making you laugh. Besides, I’m not in this bookstore looking for love. I’m in this store to find a specific book and if anything, love is looking for me. February’s months away and Cupid should be busy sharpening his arrows. Maybe I’m his test run?

You’re still at crime and mystery, still where I need to go, so I go there. In my peripherals I notice you glance at me and your gaze lingers, curious to see what book I’m going to pick up. I read the last name of every author, until I arrive at the one I want. There’s three copies remaining of the book I’d come to this shop for, and I grab the copy in the middle. All the while I’ve been trying to figure out how to start a conversation with you. I had planned to ask what book you’re holding right now, or if you had any suggestions. I would listen and pick up a few of the titles you say because I trust you have good taste.

However, I’m not the one who starts a conversation. You beat me to it.

“A Christie fan, huh?” you begin. Your voice is low so as not to disturb the silence but I can tell even if we were outside or elsewhere, you would sound equally as quiet anyway. “She’s a classic.”

I smile and you are well-read and I’d like to get to know you more. “It’s my first Christie novel actually,” I respond.

Your eyes are bright when you hear that, and I wonder what you know that I don’t, wonder what’s so captivating about Agatha Christie’s books that has your gaze twinkling with excitement for me and what I’m about to experience. You are so sweet. “You picked a good first novel then. Sometimes I wish I could read that for the first time all over again.”

“You a mystery fan?” I inquire, and I’m cringing on the inside because I’ve just asked you this while we’re standing in front of crime and mystery and you are clearly well acquainted with Agatha Christie. But it seems you think my pointing out the obvious is cute and you nod.

“I read stuff from other genres sometimes but I always end up back here. Guess I love the thrill of a good whodunit a little too much.”

You chuckle, and oh God maybe I am like those protagonists in the romance novels across the aisle since I swear my chest tightens a little, enough to be uncomfortable, a twisting and then an unraveling like my heart is sighing. And I don’t think there’s such a thing as loving a little too much because love is love and I’m loving talking to you right now. I don’t want our conversation to end and I wonder if I asked if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime if you would agree. Or maybe we could go out for pizza (there’s a great place in Brooklyn that has $1 slices of pizza the size of your head).

It’s a bit difficult to get any words out; your smile is disarming and there’s a softness in your eyes and you could be your own superhero because to be the recipient of just one or the other is enough to get someone to slow down, but to witness both is enough for someone to stop entirely and cause them to forget what they were doing, what they were about to say. Or maybe that’s just me. But gradually my thoughts come back to me, the fog clearing (though it had been nice while it lasted and are you sure you don’t have any powers?). You’re watching me, expecting me to talk, and I’ve been oddly silent and it only make me more nervous. You probably think I’m weird.

“No such thing as too much,” I finally force out, referring to your earlier comment with the same playful tone.

You smile. Maybe you like weird.

A burst of confidence surges through me and I introduce myself, holding out my free hand. “I’m Peter.”

You shake it and tell me your name, and a brief quiet settles between us again. And I don’t think you want our talk to end either. My hand slides back down to my side and it misses yours already. It’s just you and me and Agatha Christie and if this were a game, this would be the crossroads. Press A to carry on our conversation or Press X to say goodbye or press nothing and leave it to the roll of a dice, the flip of a coin. But I’m not imagining that hopefulness on your face that this—us?—could turn into more, and I don’t want to leave something this important to chance and I sure as hell don’t want to press X.

“Well, [Name],” I continue, and I like saying your name, “would you wanna get coffee sometime? It’d be nice to have someone to discuss this with.” I hold up the Christie book.

“I’d like that,” you reply, and I like you saying my name.

It’s a date and three days later we meet up after work. We go to the pizza joint in Brooklyn because I’d suggested it as an alternative to coffee, if you were up to it, and you wholeheartedly agreed because you wanted to see those pizza slices for yourself. We sit down at the table in the corner, the red and white checked vinyl tablecloth reflecting the glare of the fluorescent lights and Wow, you remark, you weren’t kidding about the size of these slices!

You’re a waitress at a small diner where it’s calm most days. There aren’t any rushes, and the primary customer base is regulars whose orders you have memorized and when you see them, you’re able to carry on your conversation from the last time they came in. An elderly couple eats there every Friday. You had a chat with them today.

“They’re like grandparents to me,” you muse, smiling to yourself as you soak up the extra oil on your pizza with a napkin. “All my relatives are out of state, so it’s nice to have a sense of family like that.”

My eyes are glued to your grin and I think I love you. You thrive on human connection, and you don’t have to seek it out since it comes to you at your job. You didn’t have to seek it out when you met me either, because I was the one to approach. I wonder if you knew that’s what would happen, how the entire situation would play out. Maybe you were confident or maybe you were unsure and were prepared to approach me, and we would have our first conversation in front of romance instead and we would talk a little about romance novels until in a roundabout way we start talking about crime and mystery because like you said, you always have a propensity to end up back there eventually. And even if connections like this didn’t come to you, you’d go out to find them. You’re proactive like that.

The tables turn as you ask what I do, and I explain what Doctor Octavius and I have been working on. I keep it simple so you can follow along, and you’re genuinely interested, and my stomach is doing flips because I am the center of your attention and honestly, it feels nice. Would you please look at me that way forever?

We get so caught up on other topics that it isn’t until I’m walking you home that we finally start discussing the Christie novel I bought. I’d been running around in our few days apart, splitting my time between work at the lab and patrolling the city, but you can bet I spent every spare second I had reading that book. Part of it was in anticipation of seeing you again because I know you’d want to know my thoughts on it and another part of it was because I did find the plot captivating. I often ponder the clues and come up with theories, which I share with you. You listen to them all and you never reveal anything. I ask for hints but you shake your head and laugh.

“You have to solve it on your own!”

“Not even one hint?”

“Nu-uh. Channel your inner Poirot, mister!”

I chuckle. “My French is a little rusty, but I’ll try.”

All too soon we’ve arrived at your apartment building and we are standing in front of the stoop and you turn to face me and have I spied with my little eye reluctance to part in yours? The evening air is cold. We’re bundled in thick coats and a gust of wind ruffles your hair.

“Well…” you start.

“Well…” I mimic. We are both prolonging goodbye.

“This is me.” You motion to the dark brick building, a careless wave to your right (my left) but you’re still staring at me and you smile.

“I guess it is.” I smile too and briefly glance over at the structure before looking back at you. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.” You are positively glowing. Your smile and your eyes and your everything is bright and you are beautiful beneath the yellowish tinge of the street lamp. The time since I saw you in the bookstore had dragged on, agonizing and frustrating, all of it a buildup to tonight, a night which has gone by too fast.

You take a slow, cautious step forward and you’re in my bubble but I don’t mind. And you are close, so close, and I can’t breathe because I’m on a tight rope trying to maintain my balance and you’re on the other side, what I focus on to keep from teetering. I wait and you wait and the rest of New York is forgotten. Then you stand on the tips of your navy blue Mary Janes so you can reach up to kiss my cheek.

“I’ll see you later then, Pete.” You say see you later because goodbye sounds too definite, too sad, and you call me Pete because you’re comfortable with me and you like me and on the inside, I cheer.

“See you soon, [Name].” I watch you walk up the steps and when your hand curls around the doorknob, I call out, “I’ll have the book finished the next time we hang out.”

You look over your shoulder and smile. “I’m holding you to it!”

My own walk home is boring without you around. Our night together has reached a close but my night isn’t done yet. I’ll be suiting up once I’m back at my apartment and you’ll be in the back of my mind as I respond to dispatches I pick up on the scanner. I wonder if you’re on cloud nine like I am, if I’ve inspired you to pick out an Agatha Christie from your personal library to re-read. Maybe you choose the novel I’m currently working through so you can experience it with me.

The spot where you kissed me is still warm and you must be born of the sun. Or if not that, then surely you’re a star of your own, and you’re officially my favorite one if only because you aren’t high in the sky too far away but rather, right next to me, and I don’t know about you, [Name], but I can’t think of a more perfect place than that.

[akela-nakamura]

I’m gonna rant into the void here. 

Someone’s probably already said this but I have Feelings about Steven Universe and I’m gonna say ‘em. 

They mourned for Pink Diamond--for SIX THOUSAND YEARS. For as long as the Diamonds have probably been around, that’s probably not a SUPER long time for them, but I imagine it’s not a weekend either. 

They had no idea that PD was Rose Quartz, had no idea that she’d gone full renegade because they wouldn’t LISTEN to her. You would think her “shattering”  would’ve changed something. You’d think her shattering would’ve made them realize they should’ve paid more attention. The story we're told was that she BEGGED them to reconsider. She tried everything she could think of, through the channels she had, to get them to spare the lives of Earth. It was HER colony, technically she could do what she wanted to it. But she still had expectations and the older Diamonds would not allow her to deviate from that. 

So she started the Rebellion as the only way she could think of to get them to STOP. To listen. To reconsider. It did nothing. It made her life as PD worse. Now she was expected to crush this rebellion, to shut the leader up, shatter her and get the hell over it. Now she had more pressure--why isn’t the Rebellion over Pink? Why haven’t you brought in that defective Quartz, Pink? Why are you allowing her to sabotage the Kindergarten, Pink? Why aren’t you Perfect, Pink? You’re a Diamond, Pink, act like it. 

I bet she started spending more and more time as Rose. More and more time destroying everything she thought she ever wanted. I bet it felt good.  

They never saw her spiraling. They never cared to do more than send her on her way. They were disappointed. BD is canonically on Earth before PD’s “Shattering.” She’s there to impose “structure” and “oversee progress.” No, she’s there to keep Pink in line, to take care of it herself and talk to PD in private about how they expected better and she knows it’s your first colony, Pink, but really, this is ridiculous. 

So PD says FUCK it. The only attention she’s getting right now, the only time the other Diamonds are FOCUSED on her, is when she’s NOT HER. It’s when she’s Rose Quartz, Leader of the Rebellion, that they do ANYTHING other than wave her away and tell her to do BETTER. So she stages her own Shattering. How long had she been thinking of doing so? How long had she’d been preparing for this? We’ve seen her Room now, on Homeworld. We’ve seen how she hid away from that blank room, how she made herself friends. 

And the Diamonds NEVER SEE THIS. They NEVER see how frustrated she is just being the “funny” one. Just being the one will weird ideas that they laugh off and tell her it’s cute. While at the same time telling her what she HAS to live up to. What she HAS to be. 

And then she’s gone. In an instant, everything Homeworld stands for, has built upon it gone. There’s war on Earth, PD’s been SHATTERED, which I’m guessing, most Gems thought was SOLIDLY impossible. The Diamonds grieve, BD makes a Human Zoo and keeps PD’s Soldiers. YD keeps moving, has locked away her pain and continued conquering planets. They leave Earth, thinking they destroyed all Gem life left and leave it to rot. (Or, well, implode from the Cluster but same diff)

The world moves on. 

But this--it should’ve changed something. It should have made echoes and had consequences beyond Earth. PD’s shattering at the hands of RQ seems to be common knowledge. There’s no Gem we meet that doesn’t know. (Save for Lapis and Bismuth, both of whom have been out of the loop for the last six thousand years). 

We’ve seen how fast Gems can go from being loyal to being renegades. Sapphire and Ruby, both firmly entrenched in their roles, thinking nothing of their statuses and one moment--one SINGLE moment, changed everything. They fused, on accident, and decided that they would rather have THIS future than the one they were supposed to have. Pink, who wanted nothing more than to have her own Colony, turned around and fought with everything she had to protect the lives she was so willing to destroy. 

So how did this story, this impossible truth, a Diamond shattered, a rebellion that would not be quelled--whispers, from Gem returning from the battlefield, of Fusions between different types of Gems--not started another Rebellion, this one closer to home? 

I think it did. I think Rose’s choice affected a lot more than Earth, she just didn’t realize it. Maybe they weren’t as loud. Maybe they didn’t have the means, the guts to fight. I think the Diamonds saw the writing on the wall and cracked down on Gem Roles. I think the start of Era Two had more consequences than Homeworld not having the resources to make Gems like they used to. I think it made things a whole hell of a lot harder for those who were different. Homeworld had no tolerance for it before, as far as we can tell, but those who might’ve scraped by--a Ruby that wasn’t QUITE the right color, a Quartz just a bit shorter than she should be--were suddenly culled out. 

Peridot mentions Harvesting--we don’t know for sure what this is, what it does, but we can guess it’s not good. BD mentions height requirements and using limb enhancers to adjust for it. Did they realize that they can’t destroy every gem that not QUITE right so they hid it instead? What pieces are we missing here?

And why haven’t the Diamonds LEARNED? PD’s back, but she’s not. It’s Steven, who has no idea what is going on, the etiquette, the culture. But it’s PD, so it’s okay, right? Yet after six thousand years of grieving and wondering what they could have, should have done, did it never occur to them that they should’ve treated PD differently? She’s back and it’s like nothing has changed. Awww, she calls herself Steven now, how funny! Awwww, she wants to host a ball, how that brings us back! 

They act like she went behind a curtain, changed forms, and is just being silly for the sake of being silly. I wonder how long they would’ve tolerated it before they demanded Steven change back. How long it would’ve taken for them to expect Steven to perfectly emulate PD, to get annoyed when he says he doesn’t remember. They're still running off the high of getting PD back and haven’t thought about the consequences of what’s happened. 

Why haven’t either of them thought about the fact that PD FAKED HER OWN FUCKING DEATH? That she cared enough, wanted to save Earth enough to forsake EVERYTHING? She had NO plans on coming back, of ever explaining herself. She subverted everything to save one measly colony and its unimpressive meat bags. Now she’s created a child, half-Gem, half Human. Who does not care about Homeworld’s Rules. 

I wonder what’s going through their minds right now. They let Steven have a ball, probably thinking nothing of it, except annoyance at having to help him out with that too. But now Steven FUSED, in front of the entirety of their courts. In front of White Pearl, which is nearly the same as doing it in front of WD herself. 

Then ALL OF THE GEMS HE BROUGHT WITH HIM FUSED. A Sapphire allowed a Ruby to FUSE WITH HER. An underdeveloped, overcooked Amethyst fused with a PEARL. And then, from their own Courts, a new fusion appeared, saying, damningly--I KNEW I COULDN’T BE THE ONLY ONE. 

No, she’s not the only one. We know from the last time Steven was on Homeworld that you can’t SPIT without coming across defective Gems and fusions. How many more Gems at that ball are thinking the same thing? How many Gems will go through their days, wondering? Do the Diamonds now realize what’s CHANGED. Do the Diamonds realize that a new Rebellion is going to build, under their feet, down in the crust, under their opulent buildings and sneaking through their rules? 

What I find interesting is the new fusion--the one I’ve seen the fandom call Jade--fused in the middle of a ball, in front of two Diamonds, simply because she saw PD and other Gems do it. Simply because she saw her chance for validation, saw that she wasn’t alone and couldn’t stand there and not say or do anything. 

The Battle of the Heart and Mind will probably boil down to YD and BD against WD. But I think they're going to have to battle themselves first. BD and YD are also correlations of the heart and mind. Blue expresses herself often, she cries, she shows her anger and her powers are emotion based. Yellow seems to go for logic, for critical thinking and reserved emotions. I think that’s going to clash. I think we’re going to have a bigger showdown than we think. 

I don’t think we’re ready for what’s in store. But I can’t wait to see what’s coming next. 

[assholemurphy]

i am incredibly sad that i only have like, 1 extra adderall left (i may have to find somewhere to buy more from, since i only get like, enough for the month with my prescription, the only reason i had extras this month is bc it took a week for me to be able to get my prescription filled, so i literally had to go a week w/o adderall and i don’t wanna do that again, ever, it was hell, esp bc i ran out of sudafed, too, that week) bc holy fucking shit am i awake. i’m getting so much done. i took a shower and then highlighted all of the units in my script, which is usually hard to focus on bc it’s so dull, and i got another 15 units done, so i’ve only got like 30 left and i’m still wide awake and focused AF. like, i’m p sure that colors have smells, but also, like, the world is so intense and amazing. i feel fucking fantastic. i kinda wanna go skydiving, but like, not until i get my hw done, ya know?

but i’ve got 30 more units to do, then i’ve gotta make a graph, but after that, i’m done with the project and can move on. depending on how i feel/what time it is when i get that done (bc if it’s past 3:30/4a, i can’t sleep, i’ve got to stay up bc if not, i won’t wake up in time for class, but also, if i still feel this awake, then there’s rly no point to sleeping bc i won’t be able to, anyway) i might sleep, or i might start working on my playwriting assignment (bc that’s due mon @ 2p and i’ve got to write 6 1-min monologues for my characters) and watch the first 30min of shrek: the musical (bc i gotta have that done by fri @ 9a bc we’re watching it in class and that’s where we’re picking up at since the audio wouldn’t work in class, so it’s hw to watch the first 30 of it, but we can watch all of it, if we want, idk if i will, i’ve got too much to do and if i watch all of it, then there’ll be no point of going to class bc i hate rewatching things bc i’ve got a damn near eidetic memory for movies/books and certain other things, depending on how much i’m paying attention, but almost always books/movies unless i find them boring and don’t care abt them, so it would be stupid to watch all of it and then be bored in class), then maybe read some of after the fall (the script i’m pulling my monologue from for acting i) and do the assignment that goes with that (bc it’s due tues @ 9:30a). after that i should do my therapy hw (we’re still working on stuck points and i’ve got like, 5 more sheets, maybe more, to fill out) bc that’ll be due at my next counselling appt, which i think is next week, i’ll have to call them, but it’ll take abt an hour and it’ll emotionally drain me.

i think that’s abt it for hw, tho, but all of that’ll take roughly 9 hours, which means i def won’t be able to do it all tonight, but i can get most of it done if i don’t sleep, which means i’ll have more time for sleep/writing/literally everything else on the weekend. i might even be lucky enough to be able to get drunk. maybe. i’d have to start drinking at like, 3p and stop at like, 6p for it to all be out of my system so i can get to bed by 2/3a. so that’s a maybe. but a nice maybe.

ofc, i’ve got non hw stuff to do, too. i’ve got to make a list of roommate requirements so i can start looking for a new one (i’ve also got to talk to goldilocks to see when she plans to move out, bc like hell am i moving out, all the bills except her half of the lease are in my name and most of the furniture (aside from her personal stuff and the coffee table) is mine and i don’t want to have to move ALL of it out and into a new place, plus it’s her decision to not be roommates, so it’s on her, not me, and i won’t budge, not this time). then i’ve got to get my study/organization binder made so things’ll be easier to keep track of. i’ve got to do some cleaning (taking out the trash, cleaning up my side of the living room (we didn’t divide it, it’s just where the couches are so we stick to our couches most of the time) and the coffee table). then laundry, gotta do laundry, i’m almost out of socks.

ofc, i might have to start on my part of the second part of the group project. i wanna design costumes for the play, if neither of the others is doing that, which i hope they aren’t, bc i don’t know enough abt any of the other elements of production to do something else. but if i have to, i can try to do sound, maybe, that’s my second choice. so, i may have to start on that this weekend. i’ll talk to hurricane bianca and tim the toolman taylor and see what they’re doing for it probs on fri if not tomorrow at rehearsal. then i can start on my part and get it finished ahead of time to prove i’m capable, when i’ve got my shit together and am not having a breakdown every week. then, after i talk to prof j abt what i’m supposed to do for the show (something with finding times for freeze frames and spotlights, which is fun, but i’m worried my comdic timing isn’t the same as everyone else’s bc i’m autistic, so my sense of humor is a bit skewed, ya know? but anyway, prof j specifically told goldilocks (who is stage manager, i’m one of two assistant stage managers) to have me do it, so i’m afraid i’m being set up to fail bc i know nothing abt theatre, rly, and i’m always paranoid abt these things, but i’m also kinda thinking it might be bc she actually thinks i can do it, which sounds unrealistic, but she’s not a mean person, so i’m willing to bet it’s that one. but i need to ask her what all she needs me to do, bc goldilocks has no clue, which was so fucking helpful, what a great stage manager she is (no, srsly, idk if i bitched abt this earlier or not, but she’s absolutely horrible at this shit so far and i can’t stand working under her bc i hate working under incompetent ppl bc i feel it makes me look incompetent, too, if the job isn’t done right, even if it’s not my fault bc i wasn’t in charge and i’m always, always terrified to look stupid or incapable in the eyes of others). so, i’ve got to ask prof j abt what all i need to do bc i’m p sure the advice given to me by the lighting tech (who is apparently a decent stage manager, tho i doubt it, truly, she doesn’t have the personality for it, she’s too pushy and it makes her hard to work with, but that might just be bc i don’t like her as a person, so i’m reserving judgement until i see her in the position) is wrong bc it makes no sense, is way too hard, doesn’t actually help with anything and gives me a headache (bc mapping out the goddamn blocking is impossible when the actors do diff things every fucking night, wtf??? do the same shit, you assholes! but it’s also useless bc it doesn’t tell anyone where the spotlights/freeze frames should be, and blocking isn’t my job, it’s the other asm’s (who i don’t have a nickname for, but will probs have before the end of rehearsal) so why she’s not doing it, idk???) so i’ll ask tomorrow.

so, i’m looking at 9 hours hw now, then 30 min of cleaning, 3 hours of other paperwork shit, and potentially 4 hours of hw and 2 hours of theatre stuff this weekend. which means i can get at least 10 hours of sleep per night and get some writing done, if i finish most of my hw now. i think that’s worth one sleepless night. it rly is. so, here’s to hoping for at least one day off this week.

but if i don’t sleep, i’ll probs crash after rehearsal tomorrow night, unless i can convince my friends to come over and hang out, since they won’t be here this weekend and i kinda need their help making the roommate requirement list bc otherwise it’s just gonna be like ‘can’t leave time on the microwave after they’re done using it’ and ‘must know how to use headphones when others are studying in the living room’ and ‘must not whine when i want to stay in my room and do work instead of being around them 24/7′ (tho, goldilocks doesn’t spend much time with me anymore, which is fine, i guess, but it’s a complete 180 from what she used to do and honestly, i’m offended bc i caved and started staying in the living room and now it just feels weird not being in the living room and idk what to do abt any of this). i need real things, too, like, big concerns that i’ll forget abt when writing it, and i need to know if my requirements are petty or things that aren’t specific to most ppl, just goldilocks. and it’d be nice to hang out with them and shit.

anyway, this is rly long and rambly, but i rly need to vent all of this shit somewhere, it helps me sort my brain out. i don’t actually expect anyone to read it and you can always blacklist my personal tag ‘iz says stuff’ if you don’t want this shit on your dash. but if you do read them, then you’re always welcome to come to my inbox and be like ‘quit bitching and get back to work, dumbass’ or something. 

[ourdreamsrealized]

Chapter Three: To Love a King

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3

A/N: Wow…This was a long one, and I apologize for how much time it took me to get this out. School was very busy, and then once I had the time to work on this, I was experiencing writer’s block. It ended up being 16 and a ½ pages and 6625 words. I actually am quite proud of this chapter, and it will probably be the longest chapter in this series. I don’t think it’s the best I’ve written, but I am happy with it to post it here. I hope to have the next chapter for you guys sometime next week. 

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Thor Odinson (God of Thunder) x Reader

Synopsis: When you meet Thor for the first time, he’s a happy-go-lucky hero in need of your help, but as more chance meetings happen and a relationship begins to blossom between the two of you, you begin to realize that there is a lot more to this amazing man than meets the eye.

Inspired by @champion-ofthe-sun‘s post: { x }.

Rated: R

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Mild Gore, Triggers (Such as War) & Language

“…and Mr. Lee in room 130 has been having some bowel issues. I got him up to the bathroom a few times, but I’m worried about how loose his stools are.”

You considered the nurse’s words, nodding your head as you looked over his chart. “Alright…I’ll have a stool culture ordered again. If it smells as bad as you’re suggesting, I want to make sure he doesn’t have C diff.” You shook your head with a sigh, handing her the manila folder and leaning back in the chair. “Until then, just as a precautionary measure, I want everyone wearing gloves when entering that room. I can’t put him on full contact precautions without a confirmed diagnosis.”

“Makes sense,” the nurse, Victoria, said, getting up from her chair. “Anything else?”

“No.” You chewed on your bottom lip, crossing your legs as you went over a few things in your mind.

“Well, then, get going. Don’t you have a date with Georgina’s son tonight?” Victoria asked, putting away Mr. Lee’s chart and pulling out another one from the cart.

“I do…” You got to your feet, placing your pen in your lab coat pocket. “It’s our third date, actually.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged your shoulders, lifting your arms from your sides for a moment before letting them fall back to place.

Victoria fixed you with one of the stares she usually reserved for a client or family member that was feeding her bullshit. A light, partially penciled brow was arched as she pursed her lips. “Liar. At this stage in the game, you’d be floating on air.”

“And who says I’m not?” you asked, coming to stand beside her, arms crossed over your chest.

“I do. I can tell just by looking at you that you’re not crazy about him, just like you weren’t crazy about Jeremy or Kevin or Peter or…”

“Okay. Okay.” You stopped her by lifting up a hand. You didn’t need everyone on the floor to know your history. “What’s your point?”

“Don’t lead the poor guy on, and take some time off dating. It’s clear you’re not over something or someone in your past.”

“You would have made a much better psych nurse. You know that, Victoria?” A chuckle escaped your lips as you turned your back on her and made your way towards the break room. You punched in the code, your left five digits wrapped around the door handle.

“Yes, but I like where I am now.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” You glanced over at her, using your foot to keep the heavy door open.

“Because you’re my boss.” She winked at you before heading over to one of her assigned patient rooms.

You grinned stupidly at her comment, and your steps became lighter as you grabbed your work bag and jacket before heading out of the unit and down to the lobby. Once out in the late afternoon air, you relaxed some. It had been a long day, and, honestly, the last thing you wanted to do was go on another date with a guy you knew you weren’t ever going to be serious about.

Such a shame, too. He was basically the perfect package: good-looking, smart, a gentleman, looking to settle down, makes decent money, has future plans…

But he’s not Thor.

You mentally scolded yourself for that comment because you really shouldn’t have been comparing a mortal man who worked with a banking company to an Avenger/god. Plus, you hardly knew Thor. You met him only twice before, so your feelings for him were completely founded in physical attraction.

It was superficial, so why hadn’t you gotten over him yet? It’s been two years, for heaven’s sake!

It must have been the thousandth sigh that left your lips that day, but this one didn’t help you any. Maybe Victoria was right…Maybe you should step out of the dating scene for a while, just until you moved on.

You pulled out your phone, unlocked it, and found Nick’s contact information. You called his cell number, placing your smartphone to your ear as you descended the stairs outside the hospital building to the sidewalk.

“Hello?” Came out in a friendly baritone two rings later.

“Nick?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. This is Y/N.” God, this was really hard. Always was, and you were pretty sure it would never get easier. “Listen, about our date tonight…”

“You want to cancel.”

His voice was laden with disappointment, and, in that moment, you wished you still didn’t carry a torch for Thor. You could have seen a future with Nick; if you liked him as much as he liked you, the two of you probably would have gone the distance.

“Yeah…I’m really sorry. I just am not in the right state of mind for anything serious right now…” you scoffed, waving down a taxi. “I really wish I was.”

“…I do, too. But, if you ever do feel you’re ready for something more, you have my number.”

“You’d be the first guy I’d call.” You tried offering some comfort with that statement because, really, Nick deserved it. He had been nothing but sweet to you.

His chuckle was half-hearted, but he genuinely thanked you anyway before you both bid each other goodbye and hung up.

You closed the door of the yellow cab, telling the driver your home address before sitting back against the seat. You looked from your phone to the city outside your window. A particular tower caught your attention, one you had spent a lot of time in just a few years ago. It was the last place you saw Thor, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to now.

The Avengers was on its way to destruction; the cracks were plain to see even during the events of Sokovia. Tony and Steve never saw eye-to-eye, and since no one really took an official leadership position after S.H.I.E.L.D. left the picture, the two most likely in the group were constantly butting heads while the rest of the members watched on, picking their own sides. Because of the drama and without a solid organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. to be your employer, you decided it was time to move on.

Of course, you only moved passed your time with the Avengers. Not with Thor. Perhaps, if you had had the chance to say goodbye, things would be different now.

Dwelling on the possibilities and what ifs made you choke up, so you forced yourself to think of less heavy things, such as dinner plans for this evening now that you weren’t going out and the list of things you had to do this coming weekend. Groceries, laundry, bills…The menial tasks.

Occupied by such things, transit time sped by, and before you knew it, you were in front of your building and handing the cab driver a couple of bills. You thanked him before heading up the stone stairs to the front door, and you were in the middle of opening it when you heard someone calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You froze at the deepness of the voice, knowing its owner almost immediately. You turned your head towards the direction your name had carried from, eyes widening as you took in the sight of both Thor and Loki, in street clothes no less. Although, the new garb did nothing to help either of them blend in. Thor was in jeans and a sweatshirt, but his long blonde locks were unmistakable. And Loki wore a pitch-black suit, his dark curls free from any bindings as he watched his brother come over to you.

“Thor?” You let go of the door handle, descending a few steps as a smile stretched across your face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my father, Odin,” Thor replied, stopping on the sidewalk in front of your building. He pointed his umbrella at you. “Did you just come home?”

“Yes. I was working, but if you two need help…” you glanced at Loki, still a bit wary of him, before looking Thor in his beautiful blue eyes, “I would love to offer my services.”

And that was how you ended up here. The death of the king of Asgard, a long lost sister (that you knew about from mythology by the way), and a whole other realm away.

God, you hoped you would still have your job after this. When you agreed to help Thor find his father, you didn’t think it would take more than a couple of hours. Yet, here you were, months later in one of the most degrading outfits you had ever had the displeasure of wearing.

You honestly felt like princess Leia, with just a thin, gold-colored bra to cover your chest and a long skirt, in a similar fabric, that started at your hips and went down to your ankles. You’d think such a garment would offer some coverage, but, nope, both sides of the skirt had slits up to the waistband.

The Grandmaster had also insisted that your neck be exposed as well as your feet, so shoes and having your hair down was not allowed when you were in his presence. He also gifted you with gaudy, poorly made jewelry, such as large hoop earrings and a multitude of bracelets.

You spent most of your time with, surprisingly, Loki, with no hide or hair of Thor. It was disgusting watching the God of Mischief kiss up to the Grandmaster, but you couldn’t say you were doing much better. You remained mostly silent, deciding to pretend you were mute, when they first found you among the garbage.

You really didn’t know how you managed to avoid the orgy parties, but Loki had been kind enough to make up excuses for you. Although, there were a few times that you showed you outright refused to be involved in such behavior, especially with The Grandmaster, of all people.

Still, he was the least of your concerns. Bruce was on this planet, and had been for a while, long before you and Loki showed up. However, he was not himself. He was constantly in his Hulk form and was quite childish. He was the Grandmaster’s champion, and you had seen him in action; he was completely taken by the crowd. Hence, him being fine with staying here and obeying the Grandmaster.

Your other concern, which consumed most of your days, was Thor. Had Hela killed him? You hadn’t seen him anywhere on this miserable planet, and Loki had not gotten word from him either. The thought of him being dead was too much to bear, but you soon accepted that maybe that was what had happened. Why else would he not come for you or Loki?

“Mute! Drink!”

The Grandmaster’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you realized that he had been referring to you. The nickname, Mute, was given to you when you refused to give your actual name, and it stuck, unfortunately. Even Loki would call you by the name.

You moved from your spot, standing beside him, and poured some of the dark liquid from the pitcher you held into his gold gauntlet. He lifted his other hand to tell you to stop, and you did as he asked, moving back to your spot.

“Are you excited for this match, Mute?”

You nodded your head, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. These competitions were getting rather mundane, considering you could always predict the outcome. If any contender even got close to defeating the Hulk, the Grandmaster would cheat.

“This one should be very interesting…” he smirked, sitting back in his seat as his giant hologram began to rile up the crowd.

You glanced at Loki, who sat across the box, leaning forward on his knees, elbows resting on them as he watched the challenger’s side intently. You wondered why he seemed so genuinely interested in this one; he usually only feigned enthusiasm.

Your gaze followed his to the contender’s door, seeing that it was now fully open. A small gasp blew passed your lips, and you brought up a hand to suppress anymore noise from your gaping mouth.

It was Thor. Even from all the way up above the colosseum, you knew it was him. Thor’s broad shoulders were unmistakable, and his muscular build was a dead give away. You had never seen anyone as big in stature as the God of Thunder.

But could he defeat the Hulk? Maybe, if it was a fair fight, but he wasn’t just dealing with the green mutant; he was dealing with the Grandmaster, who would not see his Champion lose.

You glanced at Loki again, and this time he caught you, nearly jumping when he saw your glare. He obviously knew that Thor was here, but he decided not to give you that tidbit of information. Why? Did he want his brother to be beaten to death?

What a stupid question. In the past, he would have done the honors, given the chance.

He would get an earful from you later.

Your attention turned back to the arena, where you saw Thor being booed relentlessly by the crowd. Above their negativity, the Grandmaster’s voice could be heard, announcing his champion.

You wondered how Thor would handle this. He did not know that he would be put up against a friend, but, somewhere in the Hulk, you knew Banner was there. Surely, he would recognize the Asgardian god, but then what? What would the Grandmaster do if his champion refused to fight?

Well–your eyes flickered to the Grandmaster for a moment before returning to the arena–you would soon find out.

The door that Hulk resided behind was torn to shreds as he entered the arena, his roar filling the air as he lifted his powerful arms. The war cry was followed by a shout of joy from the challenger, something no one was used to hearing.

You cracked a smile. Only Thor.

But your amusement was short lived as you watched the two converse. It was clear that the situation was escalating, but why? Didn’t Banner recognize Thor?

When Hulk rushed forward, his violent intent clear, you ran forward, placing your hands on the glass in front of you as you suppressed the urge to scream. You’ve seen what the Hulk could do, and even though Thor was his opponent, the Grandmaster would surely intervene if he got the upper hand.

This could only ever end one way.

Thor dodged his first attack, rolling to the side before bouncing to his feet. You bit your bottom lip, wincing from both the pain and how hard Thor was hit by the Hulk’s gigantic hammer. He skid across the ground, digging his weapon into the ground to eventually stop himself from flying further.

They then exchanged blows, Thor using twin blades, and Hulk still utilizing his supersized tools. You watched, holding your breath and nearly crying out when you saw Thor thrown into the colosseum wall, rock crumbling around him. He recovered, hitting his opponent back with a force much stronger, sending the green mutant through the colosseum wall.

The crowd went silent, and your heart stopped. As much as you worried for Thor, you did not wish harm on Bruce. He had always been kind to you, always inclusive of you.

Thor seemed to be as concerned as you, heading over to where Hulk had landed. You saw Bruce move, dazed and unsteady. You watched with bated breath as Thor held out a hand to him, an offer of truce, and you hoped the Hulk would accept it. He watched the blond god as he carefully approached, reaching out a hand…

For a moment, your racing heart slowed, and you felt joy, realizing that this must be it. This must be the end of the fight.

But it wasn’t.

Within the blink of an eye, Thor was being thrown around, the Hulk smashing him against the ground repeatedly. No mortal man would have survived the first blow to the head, even with the armor Thor sported.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as you looked on, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

Thor was sent flying, crashing to the ground with a horrible thud that you barely registered over the Hulk’s victorious roar. The spectators joined in, spurring him on, while the underdog got to his feet, now holding Hulk’s hammer.

The fight continued on, and it was a close one. There were times you were sure Thor would prevail, but then the Hulk would prove you wrong with a brutal attack. Eventually, it came down to just fists, no weapons, and when you saw him on top of the God of Thunder, repeatedly punching him, tears streamed down your face because you knew that had to hurt.

How could he bear it?

Then, just when you were about to give up completely, a bolt of lightening pushed the Champion off of his challenger. Now, it seemed Thor had the upper hand, and you had never seen such power before. He was a walking storm, each hit packing a punch that echoed like thunder.

The name being chanted from the stands switched. It was entertainment unlike any they had seen before. No one had given the Hulk such a hard time.

And that’s when the Grandmaster decided to do it.

In convulsions that made your own skin crawl to watch, Thor fell to the ground, and you couldn’t watch as the Champion took the opportunity and did what he did best: smash.

A sob escaped your throat as you turned from the glass. Almost immediately, you were in Loki’s arms, one of his palms on the back of your head, cradling it to his chest.

“Is he okay?” you whispered softly as the noise of victory died down.

“I can’t say, but I don’t think he’s dead,” Loki responded in a soft voice. “Not yet, anyways.”

Leisurely, deliberate claps reached your ears, and you lifted your head from under Loki’s chin to see the Grandmaster smirking at you. The expression on his face was enough to make you physically ill, but you held yourself back, pressing your lips together in a firm line.

“What a show, Mute,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you. “Were you really that taken with the Lord of Thunder?”

God. You wanted to correct him. God of Thunder. You clenched your fists.

“Well, I’ll be kind, then. Be grateful.” He laughed, folding his hands in front of him. “Since he and my champion are such good friends, I think I’ll allow them to be roommates. They can train together and give me more shows as good as this one. And, for providing such good entertainment, I’ll throw the Lord of Thunder a little bone…”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not sure you were following just what he intended to do with any of you, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“A bone?” Loki asked, a hint of malice in his tone as he tightened his hold on you.

“Why he no wake?”

You let out another sigh, reminding yourself to keep patient and calm, even if this was the twentieth time the Hulk had asked that question. “Because he was badly wounded, Hulk.”

“By me?” He almost seemed proud.

“Yes, by you,” you stated as you kept your eyes on Thor’s peaceful face. You moved carefully, so not to disturb him, as you dipped your cloth in a bowl of water the Grandmaster “oh so graciously” gifted to you. You wrung it out as best you could, keeping the lower half of your body still.

You had already examined most of Thor’s body earlier, looking for broken bones or any signs of internal bleeding. After the beating he went through, he should have had at least a few fractures, but there wasn’t a hint of swelling anywhere on his body, just a few minor cuts and bruises.

He really was a god.

“Why you hold him like that?”

Your cheeks flushed at the question. Why did the Hulk have to know why you were keeping Thor in your lap?

“It makes my job easier,” you answered. It wasn’t quite a lie. You could see a lot of his cuts closer up, and making sure you had cleaned them well enough was less difficult this way. “Plus, you won’t share your bed.”

Your green companion huffed at that, turning on the mattress to show you his back.

You shook your head at his childishness, wishing Banner would take over already. While Hulk did have his likeable moments, he had become quite the narcissist since becoming the Grandmaster’s Champion.

To say you were a little ticked off at him for treating Thor as an enemy was an understatement.

A groan from the person laying on your thighs made you still your hand, only gently dabbing at a particularly bad cut on his brow. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open only to be squeezed shut again as he lifted a palm to the top of his head. “Ow…”

“How are you feeling?” you asked, lowering the arm that was currently tending to his wound.

Thor opened his eyes again, gaze focusing on your face above his. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

He shot up to a sitting position before groaning again, his body swaying slightly. You touched his shoulder, urging him to be more considerate of his condition.

Apparently, he was more concerned with your presence than his own well-being. He turned to face you completely, his legs crossed, blue orbs wide. “You ended up here, too?”

You nodded. “Loki arrived before me.”

“Wow…It is so good to see you!” he exclaimed, a boyish grin on his lips as he took in your appearance. “Are you okay? Did Loki look after you?” He paused, lifting an eyebrow. “Why are you dressed like that? That man…the Grandmaster? He didn’t lay a finger on you, did he? If he did, I swear to you, Y/N…”

You lifted your hands, attempting to calm him down. “I’m fine, Thor, really. Loki did watch over me…in his own way…And despite the get-up I am forced to wear, the Grandmaster has done nothing more than leer.” This knowledge seemed to placate the man before you, and he let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping.

His attention then shifted from you to the bowl and bloody rag next to it. “Were you caring for me?”

The way he phrased the question sent heat to your face, forcing you to bow your head. “Yes…Although, you did not need much first aid.”

“Regardless, I thank you for it.” He nodded, his calloused fingers brushing against your bare shoulder in a gesture of gratitude.

All was silent for a moment, save the Hulk’s snoring, until Thor parted his lips to speak again, his brows furrowed. “Your eyes are red. Were you crying?”

Slightly embarrassed that he had noticed, you chuckled nervously, still avoiding directly looking at him. “Oh…uh…I was at the match, and at the end, I thought you were, well…”

“Oh…You were watching the fight, then.” His baritone voice seemed flat. “It brings me great joy that you worried so much for me, but, as you can see, thanks to you, I am more than fine.”

“Yes. I seem to forget that you are a god.” You smile, trying not to dwell on his hand, which still rested on your left shoulder. It slid down to your palm, his fingers engulfing it as he brought your skin to his lips.

“Thank you, again. I seem to always find myself indebted to you.” His kiss lingered, and you knew you had to be red from head to toe because of it.

“It’s uh…no problem,” you replied, averting your gaze as his hands slipped from yours.

Thor got to his feet, turning as he took in his environment. “Where are we?”

“This is the Hulk’s room.” You stood, bending down to take the bowl of water from the floor. “He spends most of his time here or training.”

“I see…” he trailed off, heading towards the window. “Do you know how the Hulk got here?”

You met his gaze over his shoulder. “When I asked, he said he flew here.”

“Flew?” he whispered, mindful of the sleeping giant as he turned partially toward you, the sun illuminating the perplexed lines of his face. “How? He can’t fly.”

“I don’t know, honestly. I would assume the quinjet, but…” you shrugged, not quite confident in that assumption. You hadn’t thought to ask Hulk about it, and if it was on this planet, you weren’t sure it was in working conditions. Scavengers had probably dissembled most of it, selling or finding new use for its parts.

“That is very likely…” he said, falling silent as he looked over at Banner. He sighed after a few moments. “I’ll just ask when he wakes. We’ll need his help to escape.”

“He won’t want to,” you informed him, the corners of your mouth falling. “I already asked him if he would help me escape, but even when I begged, he absolutely refused to.”

“What? Why?” Thor’s brow knitted together.

“Well, I think he likes the attention he gets here. You’ve seen how they cheer for him in that coliseum.”

“I will talk to him,” Thor stated gravely, bringing a hand up to his face to stroke his beard. “We’ll need the help of the Valkyrie as well…”

“The Valkyrie?” Your face lit up like a Christmas tree, and you took a step closer to Thor. “They are here?”

He chuckled at your excitement. “One is. She’s actually the one that brought me here…But it won’t be easy to convince her…” His mood deflated as he said this. “She holds an immense amount of hatred towards me.”

“Why is that? From what I’ve read, they fight for Odin.” You shake your head, confused.

“They did…I don’t know what happened,” he exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. “This won’t be easy, but at least I have you on my side…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing as the focused on you.

Heat crawled up your neck as you withstood his intent stare, but it only got worse when he took long, deliberate strides to stand right before you, his hand lifting to touch the small, metal crater that was inserted into your skin. It matched his, and its purpose was no different. Should you act out, you would be punished.

You heard Thor’s sharp intake of breath, his lips pressing into a taut line. “Have they used this?” The tips of his digits caressed the skin near the obedience disk, causing you to unconsciously shiver. You prayed he didn’t notice.

“N-No…I haven’t given them a reason to.”

“Good.” His muscles relaxed, the severity of his expression disappearing some. “This complicates things. I have to find a way to get that off of you.” He withdrew his hand, backing away from you. “How long has he been asleep?”

“Huh? Oh…Hulk? He went to bed just before you woke up.” You blinked, cursing yourself internally for sounding like such a lovesick fool. You’d be beyond shocked if Thor didn’t know the effect he had on you and why.

“Shit…Okay. I’ll wait.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to get him any angrier.” He sat down by the window, resting his elbows on his knees. After a few seconds of silence, and you awkwardly standing after putting the bowl down on a table, Thor turned to you. “Come, sit. Tell me of your life since Ultron.”

You gave him a hint of a smile before moving to sit beside him, and he shifted in the seat to face you better. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Since the Battle of New York, whenever Loki showed up, you weren’t the happiest of campers. You could tolerate him, but you didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him; for good reason, too, because he did try to betray both you and Thor during your escape from Sakaar, just as the God of Thunder had anticipated.

Now, however, as you were attempting to defend yourself against an undead army, you were the happiest you had ever been to see the God of Mischief. You were never a fighter, and maybe with a safe place for the Asgardians, you could actually begin to help those injured.

Loki spotted you immediately, yelling to his people to board the ship before making his way over to you. Once he reached you, he grabbed you by the shoulders. “Thor has told me that you have the power to heal.”

“Well, in a way…” You were about to explain how you had no magical abilities, that your methods were entirely based on medical science, but you decided that now was probably not the time.

“Come.” He wrapped an arm around your torso, fighting his way back to the ship. “I have found a healer!” Loki announced loudly over the sounds of frantic citizens. They made a path for you, allowing you to get aboard the spaceship ahead of many.

As soon as Loki had declared you someone that could help, people were rushing forward with friends and family members, asking for your help. It was very had to do with very limited supplies, but luckily, many were willing to offer up parts of their clothing as bandages. Quite a few people also had jugs of water, similar to canteens, while others had filled them with some form of alcohol.

Despite help from many, you were one woman, and it was very difficult to keep up with the number of patients you were receiving, some far more wounded than others. You tried to prioritize, and it became clear that this was also quite the task. You could not see all your patients at once, so it was hard to determine who was more in need of care than another. You tried your best to recall your training, including the ABCs of prioritization: Airway, Breathing, Circulation.

Finally, a brave Asgardian offered up her services, followed by a few others. You quickly explained what you needed them to do, giving them those that came in with less complicated injuries. With more people helping you out, you moved onto those that were hurt fighting the undead. And, god, you had never seen so much blood…You didn’t typically deal with stab wounds or missing limbs on your unit of the hospital, but, with your knowledge of how the body worked, you knew what you had to do.

The sounds of agonizing screams as you cleaned deep lesions or bound gaping holes would haunt you in your sleep. You were sure of it. Without access to painkillers, it was very difficult to care for those in writhing pain. You would have given them alcohol, and some did ask for it, but you were reserving it for sterilization because it did better than water.

What really killed you, though, was when you were unable to save someone. Their loved ones would be circled around you, and with one look at the patient, you knew, even as an Asgardian, they would not survive. You still did your best, but by then, those around you would realize it, too.

You didn’t have time to mourn with them, to exercise proper family-centered care, as you were taught to do.

Tears would stream down your face as you moved to the next person that needed you, and it didn’t sit well with you. Your own heart would tighten because you didn’t deal with death often–you were in the business of preventing death–and it meant you failed. While the more rationale side of you knew that there was nothing you could have done, your emotions refused to listen.

It made it hard to concentrate, especially with the sounds of war right outside. At some point, thunder had joined the cacophony, and you wondered if Thor had been victorious against Hela. But the fighting would of stopped right? The steady stream of patients would have stopped. It didn’t. You were still overwhelmed.

Why didn’t it stop?

The ship began to move, and your head cleared enough for you to focus again. You had all the time in the world to freak out later.

More people rushed in–the last, you thought and hoped–and you quickly urged a man close to you. “Keep the pressure on his elbow, please!” He just nodded numbly as you got to your feet, shouting above the screams. “If anyone needs medical attention, please come to me!”

And then you were flooded again. More volunteers came forward.

“What is your name?” A man with dark skin and eyes unlike any you had seen came forward, lowering a woman to the ground before you.

“I am Y/N.” The words were hurried from your throat as you ripped some of the woman’s cloak to wrap around the gash on her shoulder. “Hold my hand,” you told her, and she nodded, wrapping her fingers about yours. She squeezed, hard, when you doused her wound with alcohol and then drenched it with water to, hopefully, deaden the alcohol’s effect.

“So you are the one he spoke of,” the man whispered, helping the woman to her feet after you had wrapped her injury. She leaned on him as he stared at you, studying your features. “You are the Midgardian that lifted Thor’s hammer.”

“You know about that?” you asked, a bit breathless as you ripped more of your skirt for bandages.

“Yes. I am Heimdell,” he introduced himself with a small smile. “On behalf of all the Asgardians, I thank you for your help.”

“It is no trouble,” you said before seeing to a man who had lost his arm in battle. On your way to him, shots rang out, and you froze, eyes darting to the man who held two guns, similar to those that you had on Earth. You turned to Heimdell. “We are leaving Asgard?”

“Yes. Thor has asked that we do.”

“But he is still fighting?”

Heimdell gave you a look, one that answered all the questions you had lined up in your head. Your chest constricted, making it impossible to breathe, but you ignored the feeling and marched over to the man that was in need of care.

If Thor died, he would not die in vain. You would save as many of his people as you possibly could.

But, as fate would have it, Thor was on the ship with Valkyrie and the Hulk minutes later, making a ruckus as he called for you. When he saw you, he did not hesitate to take you from whoever you had just finished tending to and bring you into his arms.

“You are well,” he said, chest heaving as he pulled you in closer. He smelled of sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. His hug calmed you in ways you did not understand; after just being through a war, something you had never experienced before, you were moments from falling apart.

You peered up at him, choking on whatever words you had for him when you saw…

“What the fuck happened to your eye!?”

And the blond bastard just let his head fall back, his one remaining eye squeezing closed, as his booming laugh filled your ears.

“There.” You took a step back, exhaling softly as you lowered your arm to your side. “I’ve never had to patch up an eye, but I suppose there is a first time for everything.”

“Yes. I suppose so.” Thor’s lips stretched into a grin, but something about it was fake. How could he smile in such times, when he had been through so much?

You stared at him for a moment, and, evidently, your scrutiny was too much for the god. “What?”

Moving to sit beside him on the bed, you took his hand in both of yours, peering at his face. “How are you?”

“What do you–?”

“This couldn’t have been easy for you. Hell, I’m still having trouble with everything that happened, but you’ve just been through a lot more than I have, Thor. You lost a father, you killed your sister, and your home has been reduced to space dust. And that’s just the main stuff.”

Thor chuckled lightly, but there was nothing cheerful about it. He put his other hand on top of yours, patting it gently. “All that happened, yes, but those are matters I don’t really have the energy to think about. What is really bothering me, is the role I must assume. I have people I have to take care of.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly as his blue eyes captured you, making you unable to look away.

“How do you do it?”

You leaned back in shock, not having expected him to ask you that, of all things. You scoffed, pulling away from him slightly. “I…Wow. Um…Thor, being a king and being a nurse are very different things.”

He shook his head, the wrinkles accompanying his laugh genuine this time. “You are wrong, Y/N. Your training, while not inclusive of the aspects of governing a country, does include the basic thing that a king must have.”

“And what is that?”

“Compassion.”

You giggled despite his seriousness. “Then why are you asking me what you already know?”

And for the first time since he met Valkyrie, you experienced a sight that set your heart aflame: Thor being embarrassed. He bowed his head with a tint of pink to his face. “I suppose you are right…”

“Thor.” You scooted closer to him, meeting his gaze. “You will make a fine king.”

The corners of his mouth lifted as he moved his dominant hand from yours to slowly brush your cheek with his knuckles. “Thank you. For everything. And I am sorry…So very sorry…”

Your breath caught in your throat as Thor sincerely apologized to you, and water blurred your vision of him. “Don’t apologize.” You begged. “Please.”

“Oh, Y/N…” You felt him touch the side of your face, fingers brushing the soft curve of it. “Do not cry.” His voice cracked as he said this.

“You know…” you sniffled, lifting a hand. “I just…I saw a bit what war is like today as well as its casualties…And despite the fact I should have been focused on what I was doing, maybe I would have saved a few more people…”

Thor hushed you, cupping your face in both his large hands, thumbs swiping away the drops that spilled down your skin. “You did more than enough. Asgard thanks you for it.”

“But…all I could think about was how much I didn’t want to lose you…” you sobbed, closing your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction to your confession. “And I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to go back to Earth and just go on living like this never happened because I won’t be able to…”

Thor’s fingers stilled long before you finished speaking, and when all was silent, save your staggered breathing and the pounding of your blood organ against your chest wall, you felt warmth upon your tear-stained cheeks. Strong arms pulled you into a body that radiated heat, and supple lips brushed against yours.

“I won’t be able to, either.” The words were soft against your mouth as a palm came up to run along your temple. “I need you, too.”

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October 21, 2021

Five Things To Say to a Friend Today LYSA TERKEURST

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“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.” Romans 12:12-13 (NIV)

I remember sitting in the smelly middle school gym like it was yesterday.

I’d survived the awkward and much-dreaded moments of changing into my PE uniform in the girls’ locker room. And now I sat on the hard bleachers, listening to the squeak of tennis shoes, the uneven cadence of bouncing balls, the teacher’s sharp whistle and the girls laughing behind me.

They weren’t laughing with me. That would have meant I was accepted, wanted and invited in to be a part of their group.

No, they were laughing at me. I was the subject of their gossip, the punchline of their jokes. And it hurt. I imagine you know that hurt, too. Change the scenery and people, and this same hurt can be found in most of our lives:

When your coworkers all make plans to go to lunch, but you aren’t invited.

When that other preschool mom says, “Several of us moms are concerned with how aggressive your child seems on the playground.”

When everyone else’s social media makes their life look dreamy and perfect as you cry yourself to sleep.

But on the other hand, there are also those beautiful moments when a friend steps in with a gentle smile and a few simple words of encouragement, and suddenly you’re not alone.

I want to be that friend for you today.

In the midst of whatever has made your heart feel knocked off-kilter, can I whisper what I believe are the five best things one can say to a friend? And then might you give the gift of saying these things to a friend today?

This list is from our key verses, Romans 12:12-13.

1. “You’re wonderful.”

(Romans 12:12: “Be joyful in hope”)

The world is quick to tell us all the ways we fall short. We are hyper-aware of our faults and frailties. So what a precious gift to remind someone of specific ways they are a wonderful friend, a wonderful parent, a wonderful spouse, a wonderful coworker, a wonderful person. This will be more than just a compliment. This is helping infuse a little joy into their hope.

2. “Me too.”

(Romans 12:12: “patient in affliction”)

What a blessing to remind a friend that we all have afflictions, hurts, faults and tender places. We all get sick both emotionally and physically.

The patient friend freely gives grace because she so desperately needs it herself. “Me too” acknowledges I’m no better than you, but together, we are stronger. It’s such a loving and disarming admission that we’re all in this together.

3. “I’ll pray.”

(Romans 12:12: “faithful in prayer”)

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to tell a friend that every time you see a specific color, object or number, you’ll use it as a reminder to pray for him or her? And when you do, shoot that friend a quick text letting them know.

4. “I’ll share.”

(Romans 12:13a: “Share with the Lord’s people who are in need.”)

When we notice a need in a friend’s life, might we be willing to step in and be part of the solution?

Recently, I had a friend whose wedding plans were canceled due to COVID-19. My family pulled our resources together and had a small wedding planned for them in eight hours. It wasn’t the perfect day they envisioned, but we showed up for them in the best way we could to make their day beautiful. And us just simply seeing the need, and sharing what we had to make their day special, made the sweetest memories for my friend. She even later wrote in a post on her social media, “It was the most magical day.”

5. “Come over.”

(Romans 12:13b: “Practice hospitality.”)

Welcoming a friend inside the sacred space of our home is such a needed gesture. There’s just something about relationships that are less pixelated when we get eye to eye, voice to voice, and talk.

Really talk.

Over broken bread we share broken hearts. And then we celebrate the parts of us that are still intact.

We reach across the table and across our differences to grab hold of the glorious bond of friendship.

I’ve found that as we purposefully ease the loneliness ache in others, we will see it is beautifully eased in us.

Dear Lord, thank You for the gift of friendship I have with the people I get to do life with. I pray today that You would show me how to uplift, encourage and meet a need in those around me. Put someone on my heart today who needs a touch of love and encouragement. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.