#and marvel's barking at the end. i dont know it just. man . i. man

[kazz-matazz]

and what if we were scar crossed lovers forever. what if we traded baby blues for wide eyed browns. what if we knew it was a strange way of saying we were supposed to love each other. what if i slept on every piece of fuzz and stuffing that came out of you. what if you were too good to be true. what if you were gold plated. what if love was in the air and we didn't care. what if we found a window to break out. what if we snuck into the cheap seats, honey. what if i remembered photographed kisses so well. what if we mauled the world like a carnival bear set free. what if we loved each other in the same way there's a chapel in a hospital. what if seasons changed but we didn't. what if i was half doomed and you were semi sweet. what if you were a loose bolt and i was a complete machine. what if we were america's suitehearts. what if we met in the purgatory of your hips and got well. what if we showed the world the thunder. what if it was me and you, setting in a honeymoon. what if we had it all. what if we thought we had it all. what if you were the sunshine of my lifetime. what if i remembered the way i held your hand under the lamppost. what if i wasn't your intended dose. what if we rolled the highlights. what if we had a "got too high" life. what if we were on the bright side. what if we had the wrong insides. what if the house you grew up in broke my heart. what if i felt you at the beginning but needed you at the end. what if you didn't know me anymore. what if i wanted to scream "i love you" from the top of my lungs. what if it was all a fake out

[delicatelyherdreams]

His Shirt

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Thor let your clothes flood so now Thor has to provide you with some; more specifically, his own. The only problem? A certain trickster god has a little jealousy issue.

Warnings: language (?)

Word Count: 1406

You were going to strangle Thor. Without a doubt, the god of thunder was dead. 

As you held your soaking wet clothes, you could feel your hatred for him building up. You glared up at him through your hair, snarling, “You. Let. My. Clothes. Flood.”

He knew better than to argue with you and he simply took a step back with his hands held up in surrender. “(y/n), I didn’t mean to!”

It was supposed to be a nice relaxing trip to the beach... Tony had offered to take you all out for a mini vacation to a private beach. You’d jumped for it, hoping to get some nice relaxation out of it. The trip itself was perfect. The packing up to head home? Not so much.

Thor had been on guard duty. He said he didn’t want to swim and so he offered to stay behind and watch the clothes. But he’d fallen asleep on guard duty and let the tide swallow your clothes and towels, drenching them.

You glared at him. “I’m soaking wet, I’m cold, and all the dry things I was supposed to change into are now as wet as I am!”

Tony stood a safe distance away from you, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “Well, I hate to break it to you, (y/n), but you can’t be in my car like that.”

You whirled around to face him, an incredulous look on your face. “What?”

“It’s genuine leather! If you’re soaking you’ll ruin it!”

You let your head fall back with a groan. “Come on, Tony! I can’t walk back to the tower; its several miles away!”

Tony shrugged his shoulders as if to say “not my problem” and moved to help Natasha pack up the rest of the beach stuff.

You were about to yell at him that he was being ridiculous when movement in the corner of your eye drew your attention. Turning your head to the side, you saw Thor pulling off his shirt. Your eyebrows knit in confusion. “What the hell are you doing?”

Bare chested and with a sheepish grin on his face, he offered the white wad of fabric out to you. “Here. It’s my fault that your clothes are wet so it’s only fair that you get to wear mine in turn.”

You hesitated for a bit before heaving a sigh and taking it. “Fine. If it’ll get me home...” You tugged the shirt on over your swimsuit and turned to Tony. “Satisfied?” you demanded looking at him pointedly.

He did a once over before nodding. “Yes. Now, everyone, hop in!”

The ride back to the Avengers tower was uncomfortable. Your swim suit was still a little damp and had turned the shirt see through where your swim suit was pressed against it. But the shirt did get you into Tony’s car and granted you passage home. Finally the drive ended and you were back at the tower. You all crammed into the elevator to go to the common floor and settled in for the ride. All you wanted to do was get out of there, go to your room, get in a nice hot shower, and into some comfy clothes.

The doors opened out to the common room where several people sat down on the couches. Bruce was browsing on a laptop and Sam was playing a game on his phone, but the person your eyes were drawn to was Loki.

The trickster god sat perched on the couch with a book spread wide on his lap and looking as glorious as ever.

It wasn’t a big secret that you were crushing on Loki. You’d fallen hard for him when he’d first come to live at the tower as his penance for New York. He’d always been aloof and detached from the others, but he never seemed that way with you. He quickly became one of your best friends and you quickly developed some feelings for him.

Not that he’d feel anything like that for you, though. You knew better. So, you just settled for admiring him from afar.

He glanced up from his book as soon as the elevator arrived, briefly looking over your group, returning to his book, and then doing a quick double take to stare at you.

You could feel your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze and you muttered under your breath about the “stupid shirt” and “stupid Thor who got my stupid stuff wet.” Ducking your head, you hurried past the lounge towards your suite.

As you ran, you neglected to see the pair of green eyes that alternated between staring at the back of your head and glaring daggers at his brother.

———

You ran into Loki again the next day as you were hunting Thor to return his shirt.

He was sitting on the couch, once again reading his book when you stopped to talk to him. “Hey, Loki? Have you seen Thor anywhere?”

At the mention of his brother, he stiffened a bit. “Why would you be looking for him?”

You shuffled nervously. “I, uh, I have his shirt and I want to return it to him.”

“Oh.” His expression turned sour and he turned his gaze down back to his book, mumbling something over his breath.

Even when straining your ears, you couldn’t make out the words. “Um, what?” 

“Nothing,” he muttered. He paused for all of five seconds before speaking up again. “I just don’t see what’s so great about him and his stupid clothes! Mine are softer!” Loki muttered. “I’m the one with the silks and the satins and he has the cotton.”

You frowned. “Wh-What? Loki, what does that have to do with anything? You almost sound like you’re—” And that’s when it dawned on you that it might be more than the clothes that were bothering him. A small smile quirked your lips up as you stared at him incredulously. “Loki, are you jealous?”

“What?” he snapped. “How could you possibly think that I am jealous of him?”

You crossed your arms across your chest, pulling Thor’s shirt closer to your body. “Oh, I don’t know. Cause you’re acting like it?” You chuckled. “Thor let my things get flooded at the beach yesterday and Tony wouldn’t let me ride in the car wet so Thor gave me his shirt. Nothing is happening between us. He’s like a brother to me.”

Loki sat still in thought, pondering over what you had just said. Slowly he looked up, with curious eyes. “Are you sure?”

You couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Of course I’m sure, you moron.” You uncrossed your arms and set the shirt down on the back of the couch. “There’s nothing to fret about. Only one man could take my heart, and it’s not your brother.”

Once gain his stare hardened. “Who is it? “

“It’s you, you dork. It’s always been you and it will always be you.” You rolled your eyes. “You are so oblivious sometimes.”

He looked like he’d been smacked in the face. “P-Pardon?”

“You heard me, Loki.” You shrugged. “I mean, if you don’t like me back that way, I totally get it and we can still be friends but—”

“I do!” he said quickly cutting you off. As soon as the words had spilled out of his mouth, he froze like a deer in headlights. “I-I mean I don’t...” He sighed and let his head fall back with a groan. “No, I do mean that. I do care about you in that way, (y/n).” Rolling his neck, he brought his gaze back to you. “I have for a while now. You seem to get me better than anyone else and I...” He shook his head.

You smiled softly. “Loki...”

He hummed. “I guess that what I’m trying to get at is that, if you’re up for it, I’d more than love to take you out to coffee sometime.”

“I’d love to go out with you,” you said. 

He looked a little taken aback by your quick acceptance of his offer. But, nonetheless, he was obviously pleased. “Th-That’s wonderful!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m glad. But, uh, Loki?”

“Yes, love?”

You felt your face warm up at the pet name, but you had to do what you came out here to do. “Where’s Thor?”

“Thor?”

“Yeah. I still have to give him back his shirt.”

TO BE TAGGED PLEASE SEND AN ASK. IT IS MUCH EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF YOUR REQUESTS IF THEY’RE IN MY INBOX BECAUSE THEN THEY WILL NOT GET LOST IN MY OTHER NOTIFICATIONS. IF FOR WHATEVER REASON I HAVE MISSED YOU, PLEASE DON’T HESITATE TO MESSAGE ME AND WE WILL GET IT CLEARED UP RIGHT AWAY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.  Loki Taglist: @libbymouse​ 

Marvel Taglist: @ifyousayyouloveme @butimthekingofhell @mojitoclauds @annazierden  

Permanent Taglist: @dont-speak-just-read @becauseismellgood @impalaimages @breezy1415 @lou-la-lou @aestheticapricity @a-book-pressed-rose @watchoutforfrostbite @dragonborn791924 @everythingisoverrated @hi-my-name-is-riley @wishingforahome @natcad @whyugottabsorude @tutis24 @buckysbeardliness @oh-balls-you-idjits @s3glz33 @tina8009 @picapicapicassobaby @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @carmillatheboss @shieldgirl95 @racheo91 @vvhat-the-hell-is-a-stiles @piensa-bonito @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-wayward-robot @cutie1365 @sinviix @supernatural-girl97 @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @jjk-biased @sedanleystanley @kuro-no-kenshi @bb8-damneron

Requested by: Anonymous

[its0katka]

A Personal History of Mountains

I’m five years old, seven years old, thirteen years old, and I drive through mountains to get to my cousin’s house an hour away in Duchess County. I know they aren’t really mountains though, because they aren’t tall enough, or craggy enough. They don’t look like the mountains I see in books and on TV. 

I’m used to tall things because of living in New York but the skyscrapers are oftentimes too tall and give a warped perspective on what tall actually is. Nature is different, though. Nature is real.

They look pretty in the fall when the leaves change colors, but when it’s summer they just look like oversized bushes, in the winter they are a dead bark brown. They aren’t rolling, it’s usually one large dome and then normal-sized foliage otherwise. Sometimes they look pretty when they are covered in snow.

I try not to think about mountains because one time I tried to hike Bear Mountain and I hated it.

I’m 20 years old and I’m flying to Ghana. We transfer planes in Germany and as we fly south, we cross the alps. I don’t know which alps, but we’re so high up above them that all we see is snow-capped tops and sharp peaks clearing the sky. I remember how excited I was to see them, because they looked like real mountains, and I was so close to them.

In Ghana I went on another hike to Mount Afadjato. I thought it’d be fine because I’d done a hike to Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh the summer before, and that was alright, it was the same amount of time (two hours up, an hour down) and I figured I was spry enough to do it.

I wasn’t. I fell behind the group quite far, especially when trying to walk down the mountain. I was suffering badly with the elevation. I was wearing Crocs. 

Arthur’s Seat was 822 ft tall. It had stairs along the way, and safety ropes. Mount Afadjato 2,904 ft tall. It had nothing but steep climbs, slippery rocks, and a worn train. I lost my footing at one point and slid down the mountain, I thought I was going to die. The group went to a cave the next day and I opted to stay home and try to watch the Ghanaian version of American Idol on the TV we had that never really worked.

I’m 22 and living in Žilina, Slovakia. I was provided with a three bedroom flat all to myself, for the modest price of $400 Euros a month. My Independent Study stipend pretty much covers the rent, I have to use my personal funds to buy food but it’s not too bad because I don’t have a fridge, so I basically have to eat vegetarian, eat out, or not eat at all.

From my balcony (yes, I have a balcony, yes, it’s where I keep my milk, cheese and yogurt to stay cold in the frigid November temperatures), I can see the Malá Fatras, a Slovak mountain range that’s popular with skiers. I love standing out on the freezing balcony looking at it because these are the tallest mountains I’ve ever seen, and the closest I’ll ever get. It makes me feel normal, like the world is not so vast, like there are borders and boundaries and it’s somehow cozy, in a weird way.

One weekend, all employees of Stanica are gone on holiday; Dusan goes on a trip to Bratislava with his girlfriend, Audrey and Helen go to Budapest. I am on my own except for Ints, who offers to hang out with me while everyone is gone, who makes sure to take me out to bars and have a good time, who drags me out to a mountain nearby to go see some castle ruins, except that I’m hungover as hell and the walk up is steep as hell and we stop for a cigarette break halfway through and I admit that I’m dying and I’m sore and dehydrated and can’t go on, can we please go home?

We stop at a bar on the way home and have warm beer. We go out later that night and I scream at him drunk in the snow because I want to have sex with him but he keeps saying he has a girlfriend but no one has ever met her, ever, not even his closest friend Aldrick and everyone keeps saying to me, “Wow are you Ints’s girlfriend?” and it killed me every time.

Years later I would understand that he was doing the right thing, he liked me but he was doing the right thing and knew it would be bad if we got involved. 

I’m 28 and on my honeymoon and we make a stop in Lake Como. I’m still not feeling 100% health-wise, and I welcome the chance to relax along the lake. Our Airbnb is a time capsule, it’s a separate room and bathroom attached to the home of a spry Englishwoman who married an Italian man and basically gets to see out her days in their Sala Comacina flat, with paramount views of Lake Como and a water taxi stop down the road. 

It’s more beautiful than anywhere I’ve ever been. The air is clear and crisp and warm, the Italian alps are visible in the far distance, snow capped and a stark comparison to the emerald green, sloping hills along the lake. When the sun sets, it turns them brilliant neon colors of pink, orange and purple.

We dine on prosciutto pizza and grilled fish at a place where the tables and chairs are made of plastic, and the local teenagers drop by for cokes. I take a picture and post it. Someone asks, “Is this a painting?” No, it’s reality.

I’m 30, and we’re driving through Switzerland, exhausted and half sick but determine to visit Berggasthaus Aescher, the famous building built into the side of a mountain, which serves food if you’re lucky enough to get there. I’ve done all the research, including figuring out how to get there by car, through winding roads and up steep elevations and narrow streets where the Swiss sports cars zip around like it’s no big deal except if you aren’t careful enough you may well drive off a cliff because there are zero barriers, dude.

We see old people, old people, riding bikes up the hills and I just feel really bad about myself, in comparison.

We find pockets of green space, sprawling hills with farms and cows, so many cows, cows everywhere and adorable cottages and I just keep wondering, “Oh my god what does one do here to occupy their time, especially with all of these insane hills and narrow roads to climb?”

Finally we reach Ebenalp and the cable car that will take us to the top of the mountain. All the way there we’ve been surrounded by tall crags and ranges of snow-peaked geo wonders. I can’t stop taking photos of them because this truly is the closest I’ve ever been to a real mountain. It’s 5,380 ft high and I wonder how on earth it’s possible for this cable car to bring us up so steeply and yet be so smooth and yet never just one day fall apart and crash.

We get to the top and realize we are sorely underdressed; I, in a thin sweater and a designer purse, Handsome Man in a long sleeve shirt and dress boots. Everyone else around us is wearing legit hiking gear — industrial boots, heavy coats, snow pants, bandanas. All of the things I read about Berggasthaus Aescher said it was an 15 minute hike to the guesthouse. I am winded in the first five minutes and I am walking down, not up.

At Berggasthaus Aescher, we realize it’s too late to buy food because the last cablecar leaves at 5:30pm, and if we miss it, we must hike all the way down, and who knows how long that’d take and what condition we’d be in by the end. We take some marvelous photos and retreat back where the steep climb has me stopping several points through to catch my breath. I see old women and little kids hiking and wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

I really liked Switzerland when we were there, it was this crazy place where everything was so expensive and no one looked like each other and the language, what even was it, and we paid $40 for pad thai at a takeout place, and Handsome Man got food poisoning because he didn’t cook his fondue meats well enough.

But what I can’t stop thinking about are those mountains, and valleys, where it’s just you and the land and the animals and the nature, and it’s so beyond beautiful and peaceful and you wonder how anything could ever be wrong there, and it’s not wrong there, it’s perfection.

[milothebastardman]

Yes,Hi! Prompt for radmond! Lord Boxman finding out about it and being actually accepting it? (And may/or may not threaten Rad) u dont if u dont want to!

(i have too much fun with this oml thank you)

Lord Boxman grumbled and griped to nobody, waiting impatiently for his newest creation to get to his office. He’d sent Raymond out on a solo mission, one that should’ve taken a marvelous machine like himself a half hour tops. Instead, the robot had been gone for almost two hours, and even though it went against the average villain’s evil protocol, Lord Boxman found himself feeling quite worried for his creation. After all, Raymond was basically the baby of his dysfunctional little family, so he was allowed to feel emotions besides anger, frustration, and pride towards him!

He perked up when the door to his office slid open, the soft sound of smooth metal gliding on metal oddly comforting to his ears. In true villain fashion, Lord Boxman made himself wait a few moments before he slowly spun his chair around. He even managed to get it to stop before it spun too far to the left this time, so the motion was actually intimidating for once! He had been preparing his best glare for this moment, and oh if looks could kill… Well, realistically if they could kill, he would just be stuck having to repair a busted robot, now wouldn’t he?

He didn’t speak, instead allowing the silence to stretch to the point that it became uncomfortable for the both of them. Raymond’s face was schooled into a cool, calm mask of indifference, but Lord Boxman knew him better than that. He let out a long sigh, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. His son had failed the mission, otherwise, he would’ve been bragging and patting himself on the back the moment he walked through the door. The overworked dad settled deeper into his chair and simply motioned for Raymond to speak.

“Coach Box Dad, I swear I can explain why I’m late!”, he began, an edge of panic working its way into his normally haughty voice. Lord Boxman merely raised an eyebrow, silently prompting him to continue. Raymond began pacing nervously, words spilling forth from his mouth like water from a spring. “I just… I couldn’t, Coach Box Dad! I couldn’t come home and… And make you even more disappointed in me than you already are!”, he said, his voice rising to a shout before it cracked. Lord Boxman was confused, to say the least. However, before he was able to interject, Raymond continued hastily, “And don’t say you aren’t! Because… Because I just know you are! I’ve failed you again, Coach Box Dad… And it isn’t just because I lost some fight with the Bodega Babies either…”

“Raymond, you need to pull yourself together.”, Lord Boxman demanded gruffly, somehow managing to keep his volume under control. He stood from his chair, walking over to his son quickly. Raymond’s eyes were trained on his shoes, and Lord Boxman was surprised to find out that the artificial lacrimal ducts he’d installed at the last minute were fully functional. He wasn’t sure of what to do now, Shannon and Darrel had never seemed to require much more than a pat on the head to keep them emotionally content. Raymond was so much more intricate, his mechanical heart seemed to swell and ache just as much as his own flesh and blood heart did.

“I cannot fight them any longer, Father…”, Raymond admitted softly. Oh, there went his poor flesh and blood heart! Father was a name he’d never been called, even Darrel stuck with Dad. Lord Boxman reacted automatically, without giving his next action any thought. He reached forward and pulled his youngest son into the best hug he could manage. It was probably horribly awkward, considering he had given maybe three hugs in his lifetime, and considering the height difference between the two of them. Despite that, Raymond acted as if this was the epitome of affection, the most important hug he would ever receive in his lifetime. And hell, maybe it was.

“Raymond, I will be /damned/ if I ever hear you talking about yourself that way again.”, Lord Boxman murmured, giving his robot baby one pat on the back before he pulled away from the hug. His face was an odd mixture of concerned and stern, that trademark dad face when they wanted to make a point and fix whatever was broken. “You are easily the most incredible machine I have ever created. You are far from disappointing, my boy. Quite the contrary, really. Your flair in battle has always impressed me, and your knack for puns! Why, what kind of father would I be if I wasn’t proud of your puns?”, he added, feeling a not so foreign surge of warmth in his chest at the slight smile that tugged at his son’s lips.

“I’m… I’m sorry Father… Clearly, it is insulting to the both of us should I decide to insult myself.”, Raymond joked, getting a bit of his normal energy back. He stood taller, a ghost of his confidence returning. Lord Boxman let out a short bark of laughter, nodding in agreement.

“Now tell me, my dear boy… What exactly has you so riled today? Might I assume it was whatever made you late, or would that be too presumptuous?”, he asked, taking a seat once more. The nervous look on Raymond’s face told him he’d really need to sit down for a bit anyway, and he took a deep breath to mentally prepare for whatever was to come.

“… I have… a boyfriend.”, Raymond finally stated dramatically. Lord Boxman had to pinch himself very roughly in order to hold back his hysterical laughter. Was this what his youngest had been so worried about? What sort of father would he be if the simple news that his son had found someone to be happy with were to upset him? Why, he was a villain, not a monster! “And… It’s Radicles! Oh my god I’m dating my nemesis and it’s all his fault because he was the one who just HAD to tango with me at prom and-”, Raymond began, his flustered rambling fading away as the shock set in for Lord Boxman.

When on earth did Raymond go to a prom? And since when was he into egotistical, over the top, stubborn- … Well, that one was self-explanatory actually. The stupefied dad eventually tuned back in, barely catching the end of Raymond’s rant about the blue alien who apparently was the worst hero since he stole his heart. Lord Boxman sagged against his chair heavily, feeling a vicious migraine begin to pound like someone was taking several tiny jackhammers and going at his poor, poor skull.

“Raymond, please tell me you’re happy with this… Hero.”, he said, hesitating before he spat the word out. A villain with a hero was practically unheard of in this day and age! Sure, things were a lot better now than they were, say, 50 years ago, but there was still a negative association with those kinds of relationships. Plenty of heroes assumed that the villain would try to corrupt their partner, and drag them down to their own level. Villains had similar convictions, merely in reverse. Many were disgusted at the idea of some hero trying to “purify” one of their own, and yank them up to their own level.

Lord Boxman was pulled from his thoughts by a long, content sigh. Raymond had a slightly dopey look on his face, a gentle flush covering his face. He didn’t need to say anything because Lord Boxman just knew. This was who his son was, and this was who made his son happy. He’d either have to accept that and allow Radicles into his family or reject him and possibly risk losing his youngest son. The choice was simple, at least it was simple to him. He pulled out the next batch of evil plans he had readied that involved the Bodega Babies, as Shannon and Darrel liked to call them. With a dramatic flourish, the plans were tossed into a lit fireplace.

The two watched them burn, a tension that they had never fully been aware of melting away as the fire crackled and popped. The tension was instead replaced with a comfortable silence, and after a few moments, Raymond took his leave. The door whooshed open and shut seconds later. Now left alone with his thoughts, Lord Boxman decided to work on one last “evil” plan. Well, at least the last evil one to involve any of the Bodega Babies. He sat down at his desk and pulled out a few blueprints, a sly grin spreading across his face slowly as he became absorbed in his work…

~This timeskip of seven hours is brought to you by Radicles in a grass skirt and a coconut bra~

Lord Boxman examined his nails with a noted lack of interest, waiting patiently for his plan to come to fruition. The disguise he wore wasn’t the most enjoyable to don, but it was the most practical. Just because his son was dating a hero didn’t mean his father still wasn’t widely feared and hated. He was a realist, not an optimist. The disguise did its job at least, even if it was itchy as all get out. None of the Bodega Babies had recognized him yet, although the small one did seem to be trailing after him… He dared to glance over his shoulder, glad to see that the kid had finally gone somewhere else.

This feeling was only temporary, however, since Lord Boxman took exactly half a step before he ran into the very subject he was looking for. He looked up at the blue alien, surprised by how calm he felt. A voice that was nothing like his own inquired about a product he knew they didn’t have out front, and he found himself being led into the back room so he could retrieve it. The second the door shut, however, he had Radicles pinned against the closest wall. Despite his short, squat stature, he was still stronger than the hero. After all, Radicles was merely level two, while he was level -10. It was simple math, really.

“Dude, what the heck is your damage?”, Radicles griped, trying to squirm out of his hold. His eyes widened when the disguise shifted, revealing Lord Boxman in all his evil glory. “You’re… Wearing a disguise to sneak into Mr. Gar’s store now? Dude, this is a new low, even for you.”, he taunted, smirking at the shorter man. Lord Boxman didn’t even grant that petty jab a response with proper words. He simply laughed lowly, the sound menacing as it echoed and bounced off the walls of the large room. “Alright, stop being such a creep and get on with… Whatever it is that you’re doing here!”, Radicles snapped, trying to cover up his growing fear with annoyance.

“Oh my dear, simple Radicles… You’ve no idea what’s going on?”, Lord Boxman asked, batting his eyelashes innocently. He dropped Radicles to the ground, ignoring his little sound of surprise as he began pacing. “I have recently come across some very interesting information… Information regarding you and my dearest, youngest son, Raymond…”, he continued, trailing off as he glanced down at Radicles. Now the fear couldn’t be hidden and was displayed openly across the alien’s face. “Ah, you know what I speak of, don’t you? Well, let me make one thing clear, my boy…”, Lord Boxman said. He leaned down, his smile horrifyingly wide and sickeningly sweet.

“If you ever hurt my son… Then you will see just how much I’ve been holding back, young Radicles. You fear Mr. Gar and the immense power he holds compared to you, yet you seem to forget my own level. While Mr. Gar is level 11 and I am only level -10, keep this fact in mind. His power is limited by his heroic oath, and his ultimate promise to use the power he has for good. Mine… Well, my villainous oath encourages using my power to injure, to maim, to scar both physically and psychologically…”, Lord Boxman explained, glaring down at Radicles a moment before he pulled him back up to his feet.

“Now, do me a favor, and never mention this to Raymond. He’d be quite embarrassed if he knew I made a special trip just to rough up his boyfriend.”, he said, taking a moment to dust Radicles off before he switched his disguise back on. He left promptly after that, leaving Radicles alone in his stupor. Eventually, a little grin crept across his face. He would definitely tell Raymond about this, and he would definitely enjoy how thoroughly embarrassed Lord Boxman would be when Raymond launched into theatrics over this. He could practically hear him now, crying about how his father cared so much about him to threaten bodily harm to his boyfriend.

“Wonder if this means I gotta get him something for his birthday now…”, Radicles mumbled, making his way back to the front of the store. What the heck was he supposed to buy for an evil dad anyway? … There was probably a website dedicated to villain dad mugs or something… Did Lord Boxman like coffee? Radicles went about his day fairly normally, although his phone search history now had weird stuff like “#1 worst dad shirt” and “gayest villain (besides my husband)”.

(yeah my brain thought of evil dad accessories and then evil gay dad accessories so whoops enjoy pls)