#but werewolves? ugly and honestly. useless.

[swagging-back-to]

the sims is great and all but it also just so isnt.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.62

Lance’s room was a mess when Keith finally got there. He’d run into Coran, blurted out what had just happened, then Allura showed up and he had to repeat himself. Then both of them insisted on accompanying him down to Lance’s room, purely to quiz him on his date with Lance. He felt like he’d been through the ringer, letting himself into Lance’s room without knocking. Lance was currently half in his wardrobe, which had Keith raising his eyebrow

“Babe? You know you’re not going to find Narnia in there”

“Don’t ruin my dreams... and that’s not the problem”

Sitting himself on Lance’s bed, Keith’s cheeks reddened as he tried not to stare at Lance’s butt. He’d definitely been dick deep in there and that he could fit up there was still kind of a miracle

“What’s the problem?”

“I knocked over my death soil. You know the stuff Coran put in bed with me”

“Ah...”

He remembered and remembered being told not to clean it up

“Yep. So what brings you by?”

“You said we needed to talk”

Lance stood up so fast he smacked his head on the wardrobe rail, stumbling out and swearing loudly, his hand went to his head

“Motherfucking ow”

“You okay?”

“Yeah... just who puts a rail so damn low?”

“Someone who doesn’t expect someone to be cleaning the bottom of the wardrobe?”

Lance rolled his eyes at him

“That’s obvious. Sorry, I got totally preoccupied trying to clean up. Did you message back?”

“No. I kind of got changed and came here... but I called”

Lance’s lips formed a silent “oh”, his boyfriend dropping down next to Keith and Kosmo as he rubbed his head

“Sorry. I used up all my bravery telling Pidge I was coming back home”

Keith knew this wasn’t Lance’s home, yet wasn’t prepared for the wave of loneliness that the comment brought

“I... yeah. I mean, I saw that”

“It’s not you, it’s me. Well, that sounds even worse than we need to talk. No. What I mean is I can’t hide here forever... and that’s not the only thing we need to talk about”

Keith’s stomach clenched. He’d thought they’d had a good night together. Why was Lance leaving?

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“No. God. No. Didn’t you read all your messages. No. You’re great. It’s me. I feel like... I’m kind of useless here, other than running errands”

Lance abandoned rubbing his head, to wrap his arm around Keith. Keith didn’t know what to say. He knew Lance wasn’t happy... but this felt sudden

“Did I do something to make you feel like this?”

“No. Hey, no. If anything I want to get my life sorted because of you. You are good. Me... I’m just me. I mean, I can work from here, sure, but I kind of miss my house. And Blue misses her freedom... plus... you’re about to be super mad at me”

“What did you do?”

“Um... before you freak out, I’m not going to be in any danger. Allura and Coran offered me a pity mission. I kind of think they’ve run out of things for me to do”

Keith went stiff. He felt ready to snap, anger bubbling when he didn’t know the full story. Strained, he asked

“What do you mean?”

“I think... Okay. So, Allura and Coran mentioned that Lotor was a bit too showy. I think she wants you guys to take Lotor out for a night so we know where he is, while her and I snoop around”

And Keith snapped. How could Lance be so stupid?

“And you agreed didn’t you?! I was just threaded by one of his generals. This isn’t a game Lance”

Lance cringed, withdrawing his arm from around Keith’s waist, mumbling

“I know”

“You obviously don’t know if you’re putting yourself in”

“I know. I told them I was going to talk with you”

“But you’ve already decided!”

Kosmo whimpered at Keith snapping. Patting his puppy, he felt stupid for these anger issues... But he also felt he wasn’t strong enough to see Lance hurt again... Standing, Lance walked over stand in front of the wardrobe. Hugging himself, Keith knew he should be relieved that at least Lance wasn’t turning his back on him

“Look. I know you’re mad. I know. I’m not part of your hunter world... but... I’ve been out with Allura before. Sure, years ago and all that... I’m going to be safe. Coran was really good about my scent, like he’s going to find a way to make me smell normal”

Lance’s words hung in the air. Lance wasn’t normal. He was a vampire and a breeder, but that was easy to forget when he was with him. He felt like Lance not having his scent was taking away a part of him... though it would make things safer if everyone thought him a normal vampire. He knew he couldn’t protect Lance all the time, and this boyfriend didn’t want him to. Lance had the right to agree do things, even when Keith felt he was doing something really dumb

“I don’t like you not having backup”

“I’ll have Allura. She might not look it, but she’s secretly a total badarse. And... I don’t know. It might be fun? I know it’s serious, but Allura is here all the time. She hardly ever gets to go out and I know we’re there to gather information, but I want to do something nice for her too”

Jealousy poked its ugly head up. Lance wanted to do something nice for Allura. He was being stupid. Allura had known Lance for years. If anything was going to happen it would have by now

“Do you know when and where you’re going?”

“Nope. Coran and Allura only filled me in when I came back. I think they were more concerned with our date instead of setting a date”

“Did you tell them?”

“What?”

“About our date?”

How he’d messed up more than once

“No. But not because it was bad or anything like that... I just... last night felt special and I totally wanted to brag, but at the same time I didn’t want to share that. I wanted to keep those memories between us... if that makes sense. Honestly if I hadn’t just smacked myself stupid I would have still been waiting to wake up”

Keith took a deep breath, forcing himself to then slowly exhale. He was overreacting. He was overreacting. Lance wasn’t going to come home covered in blood. He wasn’t leaving because he’d messed up. He was leaving because he wanted to work things out. He hadn’t pushed him away or hurt him. He wasn’t leaving him

“Keith? Babe? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t...”

Lance stepped back near the bed, kneeling before him. Placing his hands on Keith’s knees, Lance gave him a wonky smile

“You’ve got issues. Look. I’m not looking for a fight or for trouble. I don’t want to get hurt and I sure as heck don’t want to hurt you. It’s because you are so fucking good to me that I feel like... I feel like I can face going back. I want to spend maybe another week until I go back... maybe head down for a day or two... see if I’m up to it?”

Keith nodded

“I could come?”

“I know you could, but I think I have to do this for myself. Believe it or not, I used to be a semi-functional adult”

Keith’s smiled was barely on his lips, yet Lance knew it was still there. This situation sucked but fighting with Lance sucked more

“I don’t know I can’t believe that”

“I’ve got degrees to prove it. I would have the crippling student debt too if it wasn’t due to part scholarships and this place. And Mami and Papi, they made college possible the first time around”

“I thought you didn’t like people knowing you were secretly smart?”

“My family was poor. You did what you had to. They’d already put four of into college, so I had to be the best I could be. Plus, the thought of getting some kind of penance for being a monster was a major driving factor”

“You’re not a monster”

“I am... and I think I’m starting to really be okay with it. I’ll never be okay with leaving people behind, but I feel like maybe I might be okay looking at myself in the mirror or photos... I want to see what you see when you see me”

Keith saw Lance for Lance. He saw all the times he plastered a fake smile on his face and now that they were dating he’d seen him being more open and relying on him. He’d become better at talking about being a vampire. Better at admitting things weren’t perfect or he wasn’t feeling great. Keith wasn’t sure he could say the same. Shiro had said he was more open. Then again, being in a place that didn’t treat him as “Shiro’s kid brother” or “Krolia’s son” made him feel like he was standing more on his own two feet. He hadn’t made any embarrassing bungles like his first lead mission to kill Lance... He liked it here. He liked the gym not being full of werewolves or other hunters casting him looks he couldn’t decipher.

“I get it. I mean. I get this place. I was angry that Shiro transferred us without asking. And I know my schedule isn’t the best. I like being here and part of being here, a big part of being here is because of you. I’m not good with friends and any kind of relationship with people... but I miss Pidge and Hunk. I know I was the new friend, but you guys...”

“I know it hurts you. That’s why I need to start moving forward again and figuring this out. I know things might be over, yet there’s this part of me that just thinks if I can talk to Pidge then maybe it won’t be. I’ve had friends before, but Pidge is like a sister to me and Hunk... he’s the... he’s the best. I miss being home. I miss having everyone over. I miss having to endure Pidge on a rant and Hunk’s baking like a mad man when he’s stressed out. They were the best thing in my life until you came along”

“I’m nothing special”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You make me go all stupid and I can’t think straight, and sometimes I want to shake you, but you’re like no one I’ve ever met”

“Usually that’s not a good thing”

Keith felt like he was testing Lance and he didn’t know why. He had nothing to be jealous of... other than Lance being further away and back in a life that he only had glimpses of... He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Maybe it was Narti’s words on his mind. About being too close to see the big picture...

“It is. I know you noticed. I know you noticed I have no photos of me up at home. And most of the mirrors in my house are smashed because I couldn’t... I couldn’t cope with seeing myself. For so long I thought... that I didn’t ever deserve anything good. I still don’t know if I do. I’ve done some shit in my past that I can’t ever forget... and no matter how many times I go to church, I feel every part of this sinner’s body. I have PTS and anxiety. I have nightmares and sometimes I wake up full vampire mode ready to tear the throat out of anything close... but I think... things haven’t been as hard because I finally have someone who I don’t have to hide from. You did this to me. You and your damn mullet”

Keith flushed red. He’d pushed Lance into saying what he wanted to hear and it felt kind of good and kind of hollow at the same time

“It’s not a mullet”

“It totally is. I know you’re worried but if I can help bring an end to these murders, then I have to help. Even if it’s for a selfish reason like spending more time with you and not because we have more than on psychopath out there killing supernatural people for whatever sick thing is in their heads”

Lance could easily be one of those that ended up dead... He would help a serial killer if it meant making them feel better... or more likely he’d be oblivious all obvious signs and then spend months still trying to process how he’d missed it

“I can’t cope with you being hurt”

“That’s why I’m not going to be alone or let myself be in a situation where I am. You need to teach me what you know, then maybe we work this out together”

“This isn’t your world”

“It is when it endangers the people I care about. Let’s put all that aside for now. Seeing you’re here, you can help me clean up”

“Can... we maybe just cuddle for a bit? I... think I just need that right now”

Lance beamed at him

“Of course we can. I’m like totally made for cuddles”

“You’re cold and boney”

“But I’m warm where it matters”

Lance shot him double finger guns. Keith only able to groan at the vampire. He was setting such a bad example for their fur son. No wonder Kosmo walked all over him, Lance did too... yet he didn’t really mind at all.

[golddaggers]

untouched || chapter one

not mine but god he pulls it off

pairings: alpha!thor x omega!reader, natasha x reader (friendship folks tho i was really tempted to add something more ugh hahaha)

warnings: hmmm, cursing, i suppose (?), lots of knuckles kissing by thor and a lot of background on her, which is not that pretty. well. 

a/n: took me long enough to finally finish this hahaha, i always wanted to keep adding stuff and adding and adding. well. i hope it turned out well? lemme know!

word count: 8,7k+

song to this chapter: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

The night went by incredibly sweaty and hot, she flipped under the thick sheets, trying to find a better way to sleep. Nonetheless, her mind could only spin around thoughts inspired by that Alpha. Around Thor. She was curious about him, about that thunderstorm smell that made her feel like he's home. Like he’s that childhood place she'd go to hide from the rain.

As soon as the sun sneaks through a rift in the curtains, she stands up, deciding it was useless to dwell much into it. This feeling… It was hormonal, the normal reaction of an Omega towards an Alpha, nature making sure the species would continue. That was it, she pleads with herself.

Shrugging off the navy blue t-shirt she had slept in and the pair of underwear, the girl walked to the small bathroom of the quite big room Natasha had settled her in. It had a full sized bed in middle, its purple sheets, which were reeking off of lavender, messily sprawled all around it, two nightstands by each side, one even had an antique candlestick on, scented candles slowly melting. There was also a small couch by the large windows, framed by carmine curtains. Overall, it sort of reminded her of what a royal bedroom should look like.

The bathroom, however, was simpler. A white, porcelain tub on one corner, the toilet facing it while the sink stood on its left. Under, a nice cabinet, which was the first place she looked for soap and shampoo. A good shower to finally clean herself from the dust that stained her cheeks still. Possibly other bits of her body as well. Regardless of still being early in the evening, as soon as she was established, the girl quickly dozed off, sleeping so soundly and for so many hours that when she woke up, between yaws, she found a tray filled with food on her nightstand to dine.

She sighed, wondering who had been on her room in the middle of the night, despite being perfectly able to feel the faint thunderstorm scent still pungent in the air. There's no way he would have bothered to bring her food personally. Perhaps her nose was lying, still high on that intoxicating odour.

At last, she grabbed everything she needed, a little bit excited to find a razor blade as well. It had been a while she was granted all those luxuries, her poor heritage almost screaming for her not to abuse their hospitality. Honestly, she couldn’t believe her own luck that they hadn’t thrown her out in the spot.

While the water warmed up, she rubbed the soap on her calves, running the blade up to remove the body hair, banging the razor against the tub's surface to properly clean it. With shaved legs, she tasted the water using her feet, groaning when feeling it so warm and delicious, slipping under easily. Her body floats for a minute, in torpor. It was so relaxing she even forgot there was life outside.

After she thanked the heavens again for all that kindness, the woman went on with her shaving, peeling off the hair under her armpits. In the meanwhile, her mind swirled into unsettling thoughts, questioning the reasons why they haven't told her to go away yet. Yes, werewolves are really into all that "you are one of us" thing, but she didn't belong to that pack. She didn't belong anywhere if she was entirely honest.

With the razor lying on the flat surface next to her, the girl went under the water, drenching all of her hair at once. A shower head would be way more effective, but since there was none, not that she was complaining, she'd have to work things out the way they were. Applying a little bit of shampoo on her scalp, she began rubbing, trying to untangle while doing so.

A minute or two in, she dove back inside the tub, trying to take all the white foam. It would take a while to completely rinse it off, though. Groaning in frustration, she allowed her body to float for a while again, going up with a head heavy from the soaked hair. There was a moment of silence, her bottom lip resting between her teeth as she stared at the razor and the spot between her legs, realising she was down one region.

Finally, ignoring altogether the splashing water when she moved, the girl sat on one of the bathtub edges, spreading her legs and gripping the razor blade. Something roared inside her, her brain shooting images of a certain Alpha bent forward, those pink lips swollen from kissing- If it ever came to that, she wanted him to be pleased with what he’d find underneath her clothes.

“Don’t be stupid”, she scolded herself. Not that she was ugly or anything, she was actually kind of nice looking, but that man? She was convinced that if those myth gods from the tales her mother told her as an infant, he would be one of them, with that blond hair and blue eyes, a body so muscular and thick. From all of his features, what intrigued her the most, however, was his scent, the way it undid all worries and broke down all of her guards, it was all new. She’d never felt anything like it.

Of course, in the past, she had come close to many Alphas, one, in the matter, came really close to claiming her. She couldn’t be any older than fifteen when her father tried to ship her off into a marriage with a mid-thirties man. He had mean eyes, his smell annoyed her to the bone. Purely out of luck, her mother was able to intervene, otherwise, she’d be forever stuck to a man she didn’t love. Oh, how she missed her mother.

A small pile of hair puddled where she gently tapped with the razor to remove the excess. It was almost done. Once she finished showering, she would go look for Natasha to ask if there was anything she could do in that house, cleaning, cooking, taking care of animals or the kids. Anything. It was the payment for all the niceness they had given her. It was the least she could do.

As she was about to strip the last part, a noise came from the room, someone fumbling with the knob. The girl slipped into the tub, the razor opening a fairly big cut on her inner thigh, blood gushing while water flooded the tiled floor. Ugh. For a werewolf, she lacked the steadiness and grace of one.

“Little wolf, are you okay?” Thor’s voice filled the room, concern dripping from it. “I smell blood.”

“I-I, uh-” The bathroom door was flung open, electric blue irises scanning her thoroughly. “-I was taking a shower and, well, I am okay. Don’t worry. I mean, not that you are worried.”

“Where are you bleeding from?” He asked, wearily looking away, once he realised how very much naked she was.

“My thigh.” It was so low, she thought he’d miss it. Apparently, he didn’t, his features relaxing as he knelt in the same cabinet she took the things to shower, an aid kit between his hands.

“Get out of there so I can help you.” The demanding tone of his voice almost made her comply without question, though the bashfulness got the best of her. “What is the  matter, little wolf?”

“You… You don’t have to do this. I mean, it’s really just a small cut and I’m, well, naked. I’m sure you have seen plenty of naked women, but you haven’t seen me naked, so-” Her rambling urged a chuckle out of him, Thor leaning against the wall as he inspected the mess she’d made. “What is it?”

“You’re adorable.” It made her insides twist, a low gasp slipping. “Come out, little wolf. We need to talk."

"Yeah, I know. Gimme' a minute? I'm almost over. Promise."

"I'll be waiting outside."

After a short nod, she was left alone, slightly dizzy from the heady, intoxicating scent he had left all around the bathroom. It had even her oblivious shame that he had seen her without any clothes on fade away.

Head thrown back, she did her best to speed things along, finally finishing the bath, feeling very refreshed. It was good to have warm water for once. Wrapped around a towel, she marched back into the room, finding Thor on the grey upholstered storage bench. It had totally passed through her senses she'd forgotten to make her bed. By now he was probably thinking that she couldn’t clean up after herself.

"I take you're well settled?"

"Very much, thank you." Struggling to get air into her lungs, she spots the clothes folded and placed on her bed, going over to snatch them. "I, um, I have absolutely no way to pay you back for all of this. I can work for you if you please. There must be something for me to do-"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't accept that." Thor exhales deeply. "Natasha said I shouldn't come over here because you might feel uncomfortable."

If it was anybody else, she probably would. Her efforts to push the memories from yesterday to the depths of her mind were consuming much of her energy so she wouldn't be able to deal with other people so early in the morning. Except him. His presence made her feel at ease, it helped her rather than get in the way.

Her suddenly relaxation doesn’t go unnoticed, a minimum smirk pulling the right corner of his lip up. She gives her back to him, slipping on the set of knickers, loose cotton grey shorts and a mush-green tank top. The lack of a bra made her feel somewhat exposed, but she wouldn't wear the clothes from the day before again. Not ever.

"But I don't make you uncomfortable, do I?" There was a slight urgency underneath his voice. "I can ask her to have this conversation with you if you think it's better."

"No. You are fine." She sat beside him, shoulders grazing lightly. "I'm sorry for the mess."

"Not a problem, little wolf. Sorry for what happened yesterday."

She shrugs.

"It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't be out, so that's on me."

"No, it's not your fault," Thor states eyes widen. There's sympathy swimming on that blue sea. "They have been dealt with, so you don't have to worry."

"Are they…?" The words die out on her mouth.

"Dead? No. But they won't be bothering you or any other Omegas."

"That's good, I guess."

She looks away, focusing on one yellow spot on the white wall, trying her best to refrain the compulsion to plop down on his lap and bury her nose into the crook of his neck, taking all of that petrichor, all of that wet green leaves, all of that thunderstorm. Ever since she could remember, she adored them, the rippling of thunders and bolts of lightning in the sky, so it seemed a little ironic that his scent became her favourite. It was the best she caught, the one that affected her the most.

Throughout the years, she found herself smitten by men, by Alphas. She was still relatively young, so there weren’t many as one might think, but not one of them got to her like Thor. And she didn’t even harbour feelings for him. The girl cursed her own biology for that, concluding that her Heat might be closer than she calculated it to be. That was the only obvious explanation for this sudden spark.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she allowed his taste to swirl carefree across her taste buds, her mind spinning. It was strong. Strong enough to make her dizzy. Her inhibitors pitching low and making her throw her head back, wondering if he was purposely making you feel like that or if it was out of his control. Wondering if he felt the same. If he felt hot. Bothered.

“Thor.” She whimpers, lowly. “I-I…”

“Sorry, little wolf. Just trying to make you feel calm.”

“I’m thankful, but I-I… I won’t…”

Her chest rises and falls in a frantic pace, the girl struggling to breathe normally. It felt like she had run a marathon, sweat hoarding at her hairline. She had no idea when or how things escalated so quickly, still, the will to straddle him, feel the stiffness within his jeans trousers, was way past a will, but become a bruising need.

“I should go.” Thor mumbles, pupils were blown out, a predator gleam beneath the thin blue lines around the black. “We can talk later.”

“N-no… I just need a minute.”

He pulls back for an instant, giving her the space needed and lifting the spell his scent placed on her. The girl pressed her thighs together, clawing the skin of her forearms to focus on reality rather than the bubble suddenly created between them. She couldn’t let it control her, no matter how good he was to her, she needed to pull through the craving.

She gazes up at him, finding the tall figure resting his back against the wall, near the room’s door. The blue of his t-shirt enveloping what she knew were strong muscles caught her eye, it was a point of focus to bring her senses back.

It was scary as hell to feel like this. So out of control.

“I’m really sorry, little wolf.”

“It’s fine, I’m just not used to it. Not this strong.” The smile on his lips is apologetic, blue irises bleeding through the black of the pupils. "What did you want to talk?"

"Your stay." She agrees with a head movement. "Do you have somewhere to go? You're not bitten, but do you have a family?"

"I, well, I live alone. In a tiny room in the city, which I pay off by working at a nursing home. It's a horrible job, but at least I earn enough to survive and the ladies are fairly nice. You don't want to know this stuff, I know. Okay, I'll just stay quiet now."

A bright smile reveals his white, straight teeth underneath. Her breath falters for a split second, forcing her to look away.

"It's okay, you can talk as much as you like."

"No, my father says men don't want to listen to women wailing." It's a shameful whisper, her brain reprimanding herself for being so chatty. From the corner of her eye, she catches Thor shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You are not wailing and I am willing to hear you talk." Kneeling, he puts a strand of hair behind her ear, using his index and thumb to grip her chin and make her look up at him. He's lost on those sweet, innocent eyes. "Do you want to stay, little wolf? I will take care of you if want me to."

"You're not…?" She doesn't need to specify for him to understand what she's asking.

"No. I'm not bonded to anyone, but it wouldn't matter. I want to care for you."

The impulse to touch him strikes again, only this time she doesn't fight back, her hand cupping his cheek, the nicely trimmed beard scraping the skin as she rubbed. Thor leans into her caress, rumbling as he does so. She had soft, delicate hands that make filthy thoughts come up to his head, which he had to brush it off before things got out of hand again.

It was true. He wanted to take care of her, his insides were pushing him into taking the responsibility, even though he had met her not much more than twenty-four hours. She just had those puppy eyes that nearly forced him to engulf her in his arms to protect that little wolf from all harm.

"What's your decision, little wolf?" He brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing them lightly and respectfully. "You can go back to your family and to your beloved ones. This is not a prison."

"I know." A low purring sound slips from her as she leans in to press her cheek against his neck. "I want to stay. I don't have anyone else either way. But I’m okay doing work, seriously, I don’t want to feel as if I am taking advantage of your hospitality."

"Hmm, you're not, but you can do whatever you please." It comes out in a harsh gasp, his raspy voice even deeper. "You'll be busy either way. Natasha will come by later to get you ready for your lessons."

"Lessons?"

"You need to learn how to take care of yourself." His tone shifts to something more austere, blue eyes burning her alive. "This pack… I am supposed to watch out for the others, each wolf that swings around."

"Does that mean you are a supreme Alpha?" The realisation that she was in front of the highest class of the werewolf hierarchy sends a fearful chill down her spine. "My mother told me about them when I was a little girl."

Thor snickers at the image of a tiny child with ponytails listening to bedtime stories about wolves. The sense of protection tightens inside him, a strong force washing him entirely. This girl lacked so much in her life it made him guilty he hadn't found her sooner.

"Yes, I am. Been since my father's demise." His voice gets lower when mentioning his father, only to shrug it off and gaze down, sinking into her neck, arms unexpectedly around her waistline. "You smell pretty good."

A soft whimper pushes through as she tangles her fingers in his blond hair, finding out it was even better and smoother than she thought. Carefully, she puts her own arms around the broad shoulders, diving into the hug. It felt good. She, in one of the rarest moments of her life, felt safe.

There was this humming sound coming from his chest as his nose trailed up her neck, taking in her scent, feeling himself get drunk in it. His mind fought to get control back but it couldn't, not when the instincts were this strong. The bud just at the crook of her neck called him out again, how he wanted to bite it.

"Um-" She whispers unsure. "-Thor,"

"Yes?"

"I think someone's coming." With her nose in the air, she recognised the azaleas odour quickly. "Natasha."

"Good nose, little wolf." There's a lingering when he kisses her cheek. "You'll stay then?"

"I will."

Not a little after he reluctantly releases the wrap on her, a gorgeous red haired woman walked inside, carrying a tray with much more food than she had had in a week, which was saying a lot, considering she barely had enough to pay for rent.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow, glaring up from the newest pack addition to her Alpha, wondering to herself how she'd clean up his mess this time. Not that he was much of a womaniser, but he also wasn't the settle down sort of man, which was why she was always comforting the Omegas that fell for him.

Dammit.

"Didn't know you were here, Boss."

"Just checking in with her, Natasha." Thor towers her, one large hand on her shoulder. "She's staying with us after all."

"That's good, Feisty." She winks at the girl still sat on the upholstered storage bench, who smiles shyly, gazing down. "I could've done that for you, you know."

"Yeah, but I wanted to talk to her myself." His shoulders drop. "Get her to meet everybody else and be sure to start training her."

"Train her? You don't seriously think she's got in her to be a fighter, do you?" Natasha's astonishing green eyes were wide. "She's sweet and innocent, Boss, she should be taking care of our children, not in the field, fighting."

"Do as I tell you to do." It comes out so harshly, Romanoff shrinks a little, all of her instincts telling her to bow to her superior when her mind screams to shove a punch on that stupid bloody jaw of his. "I need to go to the city, duty calls. I'll be back for dinner."

"Sure thing, Boss."

As soon as he leaves the room, Natasha huffs, placing the tray on the left nightstand. The other woman had stayed quiet, simply observing them discuss, the pair had such a silent intimacy when talking she could guess they were lovers at some point. Despite knowing it was crazy, everything about the last day was, she felt herself a little jealous.

Smacking her lips, she stood up, going over to pick up an apple, Natasha still watching her, analysing and thinking how she could turn that girl into a warrior. Thor was crazy. Really, completely insane.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?"

"Sure, Ms Natasha."

"Call me Nat, Feisty." With an eye roll, she chuckles. "Don't get involved with Thor."

"Are you two…?"

"No!" There's a burst of laughter all of a sudden. "I'd never… I have my eyes on somebody else."

"Oh."

"What I'm saying is he's a complicated man and I don't want you to get hurt."

Of course. The thrilling that was still pumping across her veins started to die out, his presence no longer speeding up the adrenaline production, her mind snapping back into place, clawing its way back from the pit it had been thrown inside when that thunderstorm walked inside her room.

"Sure. I see."

"Now finish eating and come with me, we have got a lot to do today."

The mansion was far prettier than she remembered it to be from what she saw the day before. It had many rooms, most of them already occupied by the house wolves of all kinds, Alphas, Betas, Omegas… Natasha explained to her that it was Thor’s responsibility to watch out for them, the less favoured, the pack-less ones, to nurture them as long as they needed it. Some left after a couple of months, others after a few years, but there were always some who stayed. Like herself.

It was a lovely morning outside, the sun bathing every living thing. From the tall trees, wildflowers and chirping birds to the moist soil. A summer day indeed, her senses vibrating to the good energy. She enjoyed those the most, especially as a kid, when she could watch the white clouds take different shapes in the blue, clear sky whilst her skin tingled to the radiating heat coming from above.

Circling the house, there was a quite nice backyard, where a couple of people were exercising. Some were doing laps across the green field, some were wrestling in a corner and the rest was just enjoying the good day, sitting in picnic towels to chat. They lived so peacefully in there she couldn’t fathom how could some leave that place.

“Hey, Nat.” One tall, blond man jogged towards the two. “Who’s this one?”

“This is Steve, Feisty,” Natasha says, smiling. “She came here yesterday, the Johnny and Louis situation.” The name of her assaulters makes the girl sway in her steps, suddenly nervous, which doesn’t go unnoticed. “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry, really. Those guys, they didn’t really belong to our pack, they were just doing business for Thor, low-class soldiers.”

“It’s fine.” The woman whispers, still adjusting to the place where she can actually vocalise what she feels. “It’s not your fault, anyway.”

“She looks sweeter than feisty, Nat.” Steve smiles comforting, sustaining the distance to make sure she would calm down and changing the subject. “But I suppose you see it in her.”

“He wants to make her a fighter.” She trails off, not bothering to specify whom she was talking about, Steve already knew, apparently. “Wants the whole training.”

His blue eyes shift between the two, taking a moment to scan the new girl. Much like Natasha, Steve seemed to think she also couldn’t be a warrior, which was starting to make her uncertain. Perhaps they were right. Maybe she didn’t have it in her to be a fighter... But she wanted to learn. She wanted to be able to defend herself so those filthy men couldn’t lay a hand on her ever again.

Of course, she didn’t dare to say something, keeping her eyes down meticulously.

“But has he asked her if she wants to?”

“I do.” It was soft, low sound. “I want to learn.”

“Okay, maybe she is feisty after all.” There’s a bright, beautiful smile on his kind face. “Do you want me to teach her, Nat?”

“On Thursdays, I suppose.” Nat sighs. “You know it’s the day he ships me off to hunt. The others, I’ll be with her. I think it’s best if she sticks with me for now.”

“Alright.” Her ears warm up when he looks at her again, she can catch the Alpha scent reeking from him. Not like Thor’s at all. He was more like old parchments and ink, a fresh new book and, oddly, Tulips. It wasn’t usual for Alphas to have a flowery odour. “It was nice to meet you, Feisty.”

She nods, sheepishly snickering at him before following Natasha through the people, whom the red hair made sure to introduce to her. The slender, gracious girl in the picnic towel was Wanda, she was a lovely Beta who looked out for the much younger children, the newborns Morgan and Harvey were her new concern, although they were the sweetest babies. Their heads smelt like powder and apples.

With a little bit of effort, Natasha got her moving, if it was up to her, she’d stay there the whole afternoon rubbing her nose on those little, soft heads. Despite being an Omega, meaning she knew she was born to be a mother, the desire was never really strong on her. Perhaps it was the fact she never found an Alpha that brought such desires within her.

The path was not over yet, so they kept walking, finding three of the most different men amidst themselves. Bucky was tall, handsome and smelt rough. Like he could single-handed curl a whole human body into a ball and toss it around like a basketball. Tony was shorter, a greyish beard covering his slim cheeks. A little weird, she thought, but he looked nice, his hands were warm when they shook hers. He also radiates confidence. Bruce was the last to be introduced. Opposed to Tony, he had a nervousness going on. It was so strong her nose crinkled to the smell.

Natasha spoke briefly with them, giving them tasks, for what she could discern. That woman should be the supreme Alpha’s right hand in ruling that place. Thor should really trust her, the girl presumes, to entitle her with so many responsibilities. She could see why, nonetheless - Natasha was strong, her presence alone imposes respect to anyone who looks at her, the way her chin is always up and shoulders always squared, no one would dare to cross her.

A couple minutes later, they stopped in front of a closed metal door, to which the red hair promptly opened with a small key that was tucked under her belt. The room behind was astonishingly nice, a large mirror covering the front wall, a fading grey ground with two sets of orange mats precisely apart and a few heavy sandbags in one corner.

While the girl was still in awe, absorbing the new surroundings, Natasha kicked off her shoes and the sweatshirt she had on, getting comfortable to practice. She’d start with focus, some light yoga classes to bring out the awareness and sense, also to warm up the muscles. Perhaps then she’d show her how to throw a powerful punch. Kicks would be nice as well.

The red hair went over stealthily towards the girl, both hands on her shoulders, correcting her stance, which got Feisty startled, her body jerking forward in fear. There was a soft laugh as she spun around to meet the green-eyed gaze from behind.

“Lesson number one? Never let your guard down.”

“Duly noted.”

“The key to being a good fighter is to be aware, Feisty.” It’s a fast movement and before she can tell, Nat pushes her to the ground, resting above her while pinning her hands up above her head. “Each flinch counts to save your life on the field.”

Squirming, she tries to break free, something that proves to be useless because the woman knows how to use her weight to keep her grounded, restrained. It is only when a low, frustrated grunt slips past Feisty’s lips that Romanoff lets her go, coming off of her to a sitting position, gently asking her to do the same, obtaining a religious result from the girl’s instinct to obey.

“Close your eyes.” Joining their hands, Nat watches her lids fall shut, chin still up, a flawless position. “Good. Now tell me. What do you hear?”

There’s a minor hesitation as the girl focuses on what her ears are telling.

“Fighting. There are two men panting, one is more injured because his breath is faltering.” Perhaps teaching her wouldn’t be as hard as she thought, Natasha’s mind wanders. “There are three kids running, one is heavier than the others because the footsteps sound harsher on the mud. Tony is complaining about the sweat and scolding Bruce for not bringing water.”

“Okay. Nice, Feisty. Good ear.” The girl opens her eyes to find her trainer’s features filled with satisfaction. “I’ll need you to focus on your breathing, forget the other sounds, pin yourself to this place, to the lift and fall of your belly. You can close your eyes if you want.”

It was a nice, comforting thing to do. Despite doing heavy work, Nat’s hands were smooth, so she chose to focus on that and the sound of the inflating of her own chest and how the air seeped through her nostrils so loudly. An awareness of her space began growing as the breath deepened, muscles stretching on her back, legs strong to keep her in place.

All the noise went mute, the ones in the room conquering her mind entirely. It also gave room for her to deliberate on how much her life changed in the past twenty-four hours, one day she was sleeping on a thin bed, barely enough to sustain her weight, and the other she was in a mansion, being nourished and welcomed by those wolves who didn’t even know her.

Before she could even settle to what was happening, Natasha lurched at her, dropping her to the ground once more, palm strongly against her sternum. It was a swift, gracious movement, one that many soldiers lacked, possibly giving the upper hand to her in a confrontation. Feisty groans, cursing herself for being distracted.

“I’m sorry.” An apologetic whimper comes through, whinier than it was intended to be. “It’s just so much to take in.”

“I know.” She’s gentle when she answers. “Being good at this doesn’t come naturally.”   

“I sure hope it doesn’t.” The joke is greeted with a laugh, Natasha rolling to the right and coming to a sitting position beside her, legs curled so she could hug them tight, cheek pressed on her knee. Her green eyes were nearly liquid. “Who taught you?”

“No one important."

“Do you think I can do it?”

“You can do whatever you want, Feisty.”  

“No,” Shaking her head, she toughens her glare, wishing to know her thoughts. “Do you think I can be good at this?”

A wave of guilt washes over the red hair, she never meant to bring such insecurity into that girl. When she questioned her boss as to why he wanted her to be a warrior, it was more in a protective way rather than a diminishing one.

“With training, yes. Of course.” She swallows hard, suddenly serious. “But really, do you want this? Do you want to fight?"

“I want to.” It’s a shy sigh. “I want to be able to stand up for myself, to not let people bully me or treat me like I'm nothing."

"It's not going to be easy, Feisty. You need to seriously commit."

"Ms Natasha-" There's a scowl on that gorgeous face. "-Nat," They giggle together. "I don’t have anywhere else to be. Don’t have any family, never really belonged to a pack. Committing to this place won’t really be hard.”

“How did you end up here? In this town, I mean.”

There is a silent juncture as she thought of the reasons that actually brought her to that city in particular. Honestly, it had been a random place, anywhere would be good as long as her father was far away from her. With her mum’s demise, she knew for sure that he would finally ship her off into the hands of a horrible old Alpha. So she ran, in the middle of a stormy night, clothes soaking wet when she walked inside the bus, not enough money in her pocket to last an entire week.

A tear streamed down, followed by many others. The bitter memories flooding and bringing out the emotions she fought hard every day to keep buried.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Feisty.” Nat nudges her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “I was just curious.”

“It’s fine, Nat, really, I just don’t feel comfortable yet to talk about it.” There’s understanding infused in the green of her eyes. “Can we go back to training?”

“Absolutely. Let’s work on your posture.”

She frowns, unsure of what she means. Up until now, she thought there was nothing wrong with it. Romanoff smiles, stretching her hand to guide her so they could stand in the middle of one of the mats, then swivelling around so she could be behind her, one hand over her tummy and the other between her shoulder blades.

“It’s really important to know where you stand and have some balance,” Nat explains. “That has a lot to do with your posture.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You need to realise the weight of your body and shift it into your favour, so when you’re punching or kicking someone, you don’t end up with broken bones or distended muscles.” Her breath fans over the nape of Feisty’s neck. “Inhale. Exhale. Deeply.”

More breathing cycles and she starts to realise the energy flowing inside her, the weight each of her limbs represent. No doubt as to why Thor trusts her. Natasha really knows what she’s doing, what she’s teaching. Sure, there is still a long path ahead for her to become somewhat good at it, though she had a feeling that being mentored by Nat would certainly speed things up.

“Curl your hands into fists. That’s it.” Velvet hands instruct her arms to take the correct place, one slightly higher than the other, both beneath her chin. "Bend your knees." A delicate pressure from her own makes the girl bend. "Good. Hold for a moment."

Twitching on the muscles of her thighs makes her sway, Natasha going back behind her to ground her into place. It takes a while before she can do that alone, but as soon as she can, her trainer commands her to throw her first punch, the air whooshing as she does so. "Again". Another. And another. She kept punching the air until the Nat looked pleased with the precision.

Then, after a short break for a sip of water, it was time to finally get it going with the heavy sandbags. The warning that she’d be sore the next day wasn’t necessary. Natasha wrapped the girl’s hands with some white bandage to somehow protect the fingers and knuckles from the damage punching the bags could cause.

“Remember to put your weight into the punch, it’s more your arm than your fist.”

“Okay, I think I got it.”

“It’ll hurt.” The warning comes one second too late, her fist had already met the bag and a sharp pain was spreading quickly.  “You did good, don’t worry.”

“But it hurts!” She stutters, a gush of blood pooling on her neck and making it warm. A sign of embarrassment.

“Normal.” A slow massage eases the pain, soothing fingers touching the bruised skin. “What you have to do is pull through the pain, let it flow to the back of your arm, then you won’t feel so much.”

“Okay.”

The practice went on until it was almost two pm and the two women were definitely starving, stomachs growling rebelliously to get some food.

As they made their way back to the huge mansion, Feisty thought about Thor again. How he changed her life so much in so little time. If he hadn’t insisted for her to be trained, she wouldn’t be feeling that satisfied about her accomplishments, she wouldn’t be feeling this powerful, even though all she had learnt, and barely, was to punch a sandbag. It still felt big for her, so she made a mental note to search for him as soon as he gets home and thank him for all of that.

The wet green leaves, petrichor and thunderstorm scent came to her brain quickly, bringing along a huge smile. She was in trouble with that Alpha. Big trouble.

Night fell slowly, a mixture of pink, purple and orange still colouring the sky when she walked inside her bedroom, kicking off her shoes while putting her hair up in a bun, wiping the annoying sweat off of her forehead. It was crazy how hot it still was despite being close to ten pm.

A cold shower would be nice before sleep, she thinks, starting to undress herself, noticing a minor discomfort due to the new activities she had been doing throughout the day.  She hadn’t had a minute of rest, because as soon as lunch was over, Natasha took her back to the training room, easing her into the defence techniques. Feisty had been thrown on the ground more times than she could count that afternoon.

When dinner time came, her heart filled with hope and a longing to finally see those comforting blue eyes again, the sweet, but tough face. And to smell him. She came to know most of the scents in the house and not even one matched the effects Thor's had on her, even the Alphas. It felt to her that heady odour had been made for her, to calm and entice her at the same time. However, much to her disappointment, he never came. Never returned home.

Nat’s words thrummed within her head. She knew him for over six years now, that was how long she had been part of his pack, had been his friend. Of course, she was right about him, no matter how strongly Feisty’s gut pushed her into opening up her emotions into caring for Thor. Into opening her emotions up to welcome the Alpha gladly.  

Ugh.

Tossing the worn out outfit into a messy pile over the couch by the window, she quickly made her way towards the wardrobe, amazing herself upon finding stacks of new clothes inside it. They had been recently bought because they still had the labels from the shop, she was quick to pick one cute pyjama, loose grey shorts and a carebear white t-shirt. It’d be perfect to sleep on that hot night.  

Determined to inspect more of the piece of furniture, she got down on her knees and opened the bottom drawers only to find a variance of knickers and bras, of all colours, shapes and taste. Whoever bought all of those aimed to please her.

There was a moment of analysing before she finally chose one that'd be comfortable for sleeping, nestling it between the soft flannels PJ's. Only then she went to the bathroom, feeling icky from the sweat coating her back, arms and face.

The towel from the morning had been hung on a metal hanger by the door, possibly already dry from the warm temperatures. She snorted, not minding if it was or not, her room felt like an oven, so maybe she should skip the whole wiping the water off of her body.

Once under the cool water, hair bundled at the top of her head, Feisty moaned in pleasure, the water washing away the dirt. Her hands trailed down, rubbing gently the skin, the soap she had squished minutes before bubbling up. Two baths in one day? Heaven, her mind hummed, in full appreciation.

Between toes, under the arms. Bit by bit she cleaned herself up, feeling refreshed each second further into the shower. Once there was nothing else to wipe off, she stepped out, firmly decided to indeed not go for the towel, walking out very much naked.

What she wasn't expecting was to find a majestic man slouched on the couch, long legs wide while he was thrown back, lids heavy. Thor was handsomely asleep. She refrained the urge to trace the creases along his face with the tip of her fingers, abruptly realising how bare she was, the second time of that day he'd barged inside her room while showering.

A chuckle slipped as she got dressed quickly, being extra careful on her steps to not wake him up. He looked so peaceful, gentle. If anything, she wanted to pull him to her chest and undo the knots on his long, blond hair at leisure. Hear a soft moan of appreciation from him.

She sat beside him a few minutes later, just watching him. The soft wrinkles under his eyes, a grown out beard framing the most beautiful set of lips she'd seen, so pink and full. A gentle whimper fell off her lips, a tug at her lower abdomen forcing her legs to clasp together.

The sound startled him awake, electric blue scanning her whole to make sure she was okay. Thor had never experimented that before. Never had such a need to watch out after an Omega, an overwhelming pressure of his instincts.  

His hands found their way into cradling her face, pulling her closer to him, thumbs trailing up the cheekbones.

"Are you okay, little wolf?"

"Yeah." She says, lost in the sea of his eyes. "Are you?"

It was naive of her to ask, she realised soon. Of course, he was, despite looking tired, okay. He was mighty, it would take an immense power to even scratch him.  

Thor's booming laugh filled the room.

"Yes. I am okay." Soon enough he buried his head in the crook of her neck, taking in her inebriating scent. Not an ounce of shame in his features, like it was something he did on a daily basis. Like they weren't strangers. "You're so sweet, little wolf. Were you worried about me?"

"Y-yes." The vibration of his voice made her stutter. "I wanted to thank you, but you didn’t come for dinner."

The arms wounded around her waistline tightened, protectively inching her closer, in a way that forced her cheek into his strong shoulder, a surprised squeal falling from her lips.

“I don’t want you worrying about me.” His voice pitched low, lips now pressed on the top of her head. “I care for you, not the other way around.”

“Thor…” It’s nothing but a mellow whisper, but something inside him stirs, a grumbling coming from his chest. “I-I… Why do I feel like this?”

“Like what?” The question is more rhetorical than an actual doubt. He knows what she’s on about. If she feels an inch of what he feels when he’s around her then they’re both in trouble.

She sighs, wiggling out of his sheltering hug only to stand on her knees, arms wrapping around his wide shoulders in a motherly way, huddling him against her chest, his face nuzzled on her breasts. Thor didn’t complain, humming instead in a pleasing way.

“Like what, little wolf?” He urges voice muffled on the t-shirt.

"I don't know. I can't explain it. It's just, we met a day ago and your scent is so overwhelming… I've never felt like this before. Never so soon and never so strong."

Thor lets out the air in his lungs in sharp exhale, pushing her away delicately so he could look into the so very much innocent eyes. Her hair fell from her bun framing her face like a painting, or so it was how he saw it.

In a swift action, she was sprawled in his lap, his head once more on her neck. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about how fast and how easy it had been for him to grow addicted to that sweet girl. To the smell that lit a fire within him.

She felt to him as a gift the universe was giving him after so much loss, even if it meant a liability for the powerful undefeatable Thor.

"Did you like it?"

"Uh?" Lids were heavy when Feisty replied, the tips of her fingers swirling around the prominent vein on his bicep.

"The clothes." Thor mumbles. "I bought them for you and had them delivered."

"Oh." A sudden warmness fills her up once she realises he had taken time to worry about that. To think about her. "Yes, I like them. You shouldn't have though."

"Nonsense." Something in his laugh gets her eyes open again. "Has Natasha treated you well?"

"Yes." A spark of excitement washes through her. "She taught me a lot today."

"Did she?"

Feisty nods, grinning genuinely at him, the fond memories of the afternoon flowing behind her eyes, shared laughs and a new intimacy that she never knew she could experience with someone else. More than helping her build fighting skills, Natasha was teaching her what it meant to be somebody’s friend.

They stay sit for a little while, neither willing to break from the torpor their scents lulled them into. Thor's fingers sneaking into her hair, toying with the strands in a soft manner that got her sleepy quicker than it should have, her eyes hefty.

"Nat really tired you out, didn't she, little wolf?"

"Hmmm, yes." She slurs, clinging to his clothes like a baby. "It was nice."

"I'm glad it was."

"She said-" By now, Feisty's half asleep. The heat coming from his body cuddling her like a warm blanket. "-Said I shouldn't get involved with you. You're trouble and you'll break my heart."

Those words sting him, the mere thought of causing pain to her being unbearable.  He could hear the wolf inside howling for him to squeeze her further into his embrace, to protect her from any harm. She was his Omega to look after and that was what he was going to do. At all costs.

A soft tug on his collar forces him to gaze down, his insides spiralling from how defenceless that little wolf looked, index finger tracing careless patterns on the skin of his shoulder.

“Will you?” She asks then, one eye open.

“I would never hurt you, little wolf.” Thor’s large hand nestles her face, urging their glares to bore on one another. “Never.”

Nodding slowly, she stares at him a little longer, then hides her face on his neck again, breathing deeply, his exhilarating smell sending her into a gratifying haze. She didn’t know if it was a dream or not, but not a single cell in her body wanted to wake up if it was. Thor felt like home all over again, Natasha’s words were long forgotten now.

Tenderly clutching her into his chest, he got back on his feet, the woman’s legs quick to clasp around his waistline, snuggling her nose further into the crook of his neck, moaning to the strength it got to her. One day she hoped to understand how was it possible that it was so good, not today though. Today she just wanted the thrill it gave her.

When he tried putting her down to the bed, she groaned, tightening her arms around his shoulders, pulling him to lie with her. Sure, she wasn’t as strong as him, she would never be, considering he was a supreme, nonetheless, Feisty wanted to stay skin close to him still. He couldn’t leave her. Not when she felt so good.

“You need to sleep, little wolf,” Thor mumbles, kissing her forehead. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No.”

“Little wolf…”

“Stay.” There’s demand beneath her voice. “Sleep here with me.”

His nostrils flare as the blue unexpectedly disappear, black pupils back, taking control. She’s not sleepy anymore, all her senses are very much aware to the greedy vibe he’s letting off, the alpha stench that gets her core to itch, empty and craving. For him.  

“Can’t do that.” Feisty squirms, clasping her legs together as she reaches for his arm, hand ridiculously small when in comparison to the size of his bicep. “You need space, need to be alone.”

“That’s not what I need.” Her inhibitors were nearing a tenuous line, actions filled with lust and driven by instinct. “Stay.”

“You’re not-”

“I’m not asking you to mount me, Thor.” The sentence erupts a stir within his trousers,  a picture taking shape in his brain. “I couldn’t sleep well yesterday, so stay with me. Your smell calms me.”

Low blow, he thinks.

“I can leave anytime you ask me.” It slips smoothly, eyes switching back to glorious blue. She smiles, standing up, and palms softly the stiff abdomen, slipping underneath to find the strong muscles tensing up under. “What are you doing?”

“I like touching you.”

Thor snickers, his own hands finding hers, bringing them both to his face, cheek pressing the mellow skin, scraping it with his beard. Lastly, he kissed her knuckles, exchanging a confident gaze. Anyone close enough could catch the intimacy in the air, regardless of them not ever having had one kiss.

Not necessary. At least not yet.

“You’re always honest like that?”

“No.” Her nose flies to his chest, opening her mouth to fully taste him.  “With you, I feel I can though. I am not embarrassed by you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

It’s Feisty’s turn to snicker, looking up at him.

“It’s good, Thor. Means I trust you.”

"How can you?"

A sigh escapes whilst she is again conflicted by the rush of emotions she's feeling. It's a question she lacks an answer, so she shrugs, clutching to him like a puppy, such a warm, tender hug she felt like she would melt inside it.

Thor kisses the top of her head, pushing her to lie down again, she grunts when he pulls away to undress, kicking off his black leather boots and tossing away the shirt. He was hesitant, however, on taking off his pants, catching her glare locked on him, eyes hungry.  

"You can't look at me like that, little wolf."

"How am I looking at you?" He can taste the innocence in her words.

"You're looking at me-" A sudden pause as Thor finally disposes of his jeans, joining her in the bed. She curls herself on him, legs mingling together while her head rests on his wide chest. "-Dammit. You're looking at me like you need me."

The air pushes out of her in a gasp, propping herself up in his chest, gazing at him curiously. His blond hair was loose, scattered across the pillow, eyes like a peaceful sea. He seemed like he was at home too, and that thought made her heart shake, pumping faster.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, little wolf," Thor says mindlessly, tugging her hair, caressing in a way that made the tips of her toes tingle. "Come, sleep."

There's a brief silent moment after he pulls her to lie down, cradling her.

"Thor?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks." She speaks sweetly, pressing her lips to the side of his body. "This much more than I could've ever wished for."

Feisty feels a shift under her as he chuckles, still in awe with that beautiful creature lying with him. It was by far the most precious who had ever taken that place. Who had ever touched him like that.

It scared him. And her. Both so frightened of what that could mean. Yet, none of them had the strength to prevent it, to push it off. It was inevitable.

tags!

marvel: @frenfics

thor: @lancsnerd @odinson-barnes

untouched: @slutlanna976 @rahma29417 (for some reason the tag won’t work) @truthdaze @innerpaperexpertcloud

[anniemouss]

Realize

Seeing as Paige was this flash of light, a rocket across the sky, as she was gone almost as fast as she'd hit him and of course Kate got him early, it had all been too fucked up for Derek to ever take anytime to notice that he might be into guys. All at once it seemed his whole world was spiraling and out of his control, afterwards he didn't let himself consider his own feelings. Sleeping with a girl was usually because he and Laura needed something. Speaking of, he likes to think Laura knew, she was mad at him after Kate sure, not that she'd ever admit it but he knew. How could she not be? But Derek hated himself enough that she didn't have to say it. There were times though, when he's sure Laura tried to bring it up but anytime the subject of sex even became close to a topic Derek would leave.

This is why Stiles is like a brick fucking wall for him, why he feels like he slammed head first into it and just got stuck because at first, he's just some punk grating on his nerves and getting in the way when it came to Scott. Eventually though, Derek notices little things he, himself, does. He notices that when Stiles is around and imminent danger rears its ugly head he tries his best to keep him safe. The time at the pool? Derek didn't realize how fucking mad he was at being useless because he just assumed it was that a human helped him. But no. Later he would figure out that he was so mad that he couldn't protect Stiles.

For awhile he didn't think about it, he kept telling himself Scott and Stiles were children, never letting his brain recall he wasn't much older. When Stiles was seventeen, Derek remembers his eyes lingering a little too long, he remembers that Stiles sat too close but Derek never moved. He remembers how much he used to dream about him but always writing it off as Stiles was just the smartest and therefore Derek's subconscious sought his help.

The first time Derek even considers that his infatuation with him is something more than admiration is just before Kate kidnaps him, Lydia asks if werewolves run more genderfluid than anything. Of course, she made a point to glance between Scott and Isaac but something slammed into Derek's chest right then and he'd looked at Stiles.

It's funny how when he was made sixteen again he can remember arguing with Stiles, and yet he knows if he'd wanted to leave and not deal with the antics he could have but for some reason, Stiles had just smelt safe. Derek didn't stick around though, because his sixteen year old brain still believed Kate's bullshit and only ran on two braincells: love and lust.

He remembers turning back though, remembers that instead of helping Stiles directly, because suddenly that was too much, he started helping the sheriff. He thinks he knew too, Noah, because too many times that Stiles wafted through the station or the house and Derek just made himself invisible, the sheriff always gave him this look. Like a part of him wanted to be mad, maybe shoot him with a wolfsbane bullet. Derek must have looked like a kicked puppy though because Noah always sighed after Stiles left, patted Derek's shoulder and told him his son's brain ran a million miles a minute.

In Mexico, when Derek was human and dying, the absolute devastation on Stiles face really floored him. He wanted to tell him he loved him. There was Braedon, beautiful, smart, strong Braedon and he thought that was what he was meant to touch. She didn't use him, lie to him, hurt him, she was fascinated and curious and she cared a little too much, too soon but Derek let himself because... Because well, he was single and why not? He still managed to feel guilty though, like he was betraying someone. Somehow none of that mattered as he told Stiles to go, told him to save Scott because he knew Stiles couldn't save him this time.

Braedon says it. She says it calm and casual and that's how they end, really, because she knows and she doesn't want to stand in the way. She asks him when it started, or if it really ever ended and Derek is confused for a long time because nothing started and then she has this look on her face, a dawning realization. She helps him hunt Kate down regardless but as they're going, she tells him he should really think about some things, especially things involving a certain mole dotted young man. Derek's heartbeat does a strange rhythm, like he's lying even though he's said nothing.

Derek notices men after that, he notices the way they look at him and how sometimes he looks at them but it's missing something, something he tries hard to let go of. Until the day Stiles shows up out of nowhere. Sure, they're friends but Stiles convincing the FBI to let an intern go on this dangerous field operation for what they had assumed was a serial killer is not only shocking, it's almost a declaration.

Stiles rambles on when they get somewhere safe, talks about how the second he saw Derek on the screen in his class he already started planning, trying to figure out how to fix it because he knew Derek was in a good place with Braedon and deserved that. Derek forgot how he didn't have a phone so nobody knew about her, he let's Stiles go on and on for several minutes about him, about keeping him safe, about how much he cares, about how wonderful and amazing Derek is. About midway through the werewolf is smirking while Stiles paces and slowly moves towards him because he thinks, or rather he really hopes, that all of this means Stiles feels it too. Eventually he gets close enough that Stiles stills and looks Derek in the eye, Derek swallows because he's honestly terrified he's wrong but he reaches slowly, fingertips grazing Stiles cheek just before he leans in and kisses him, hesitant and with a question. Is this okay? Can I do this? Do you hate me? Do you want this? Please love me.

The final thought really burns something in his heart, it lasts only seconds though because Stiles fists his shirt and yanks him closer to really kiss him. All the world makes sense again. It's like Derek had been holding his breath for the better part of a decade and only now, only here where he feels like he's breathing when he's not, does he feel it all release.

Paige was a shooting star, she was wonderful and beautiful and here and gone so quick he used to wonder if he dreamt her. Kate was a fire, destructive, consuming and left his world charred, dark. Braedon was dawning realization, wonderful, accepting, could be love if he had let it.

Stiles was love though.

He was that first little niche beneath the blacken soot, a tiny sprout making himself known even when the light of the stars died out, he was slow and calm even when he slammed into you with the force of a tidal wave in the storm. He was all consuming but somehow, he managed to never make you drown.

He told Derek later, sometime between their kiss and Beacon Hills and its war, how he'd loved Derek a long time but never knew if it was okay. After the war, when they left, Derek kissed him slow, touched him gentle. The sounds Stiles made would reverberate inside Derek's mind until the day he died because he loved him, and anytime he could say it, show it, prove it, give it, he did. And not once, did Stiles ever make him feel like he didn't deserve this, like he owed Stiles something for loving him.

And he would never love anybody else, not ever again, Stiles was it. Stiles was home. The next time he was in Beacon Hills, almost a year later when Stiles said his father demanded they both come home for Christmas, Derek made himself go to the cemetery. He told Laura everything, even how he hoped that she'd forgive him for being so happy now. Cora had strolled up then, she didn't speak but she put her arms around him and he knew, she was giving him the permission he was too scared to seek.

She spent Christmas with him and the Stilinski's, she made a joke about how Laura used to tackle Derek and make him say uncle. And he felt alright, he felt love.

[ralfstrashcan]

Possible Origins of Magnus's Warlock Mark Insecurities

I've read it countless times in fics that Magnus is super insecure about his cat eyes. After some prodding he will admit that it's because other people (most likely past lovers) have told him they are ugly and/or because he himself thinks they are ugly. Don't get me wrong, I have a soft spot for that trope because it always ends with Alec saying cute romantic loving things to Magnus and Magnus deserves all the cute romantic loving things, but....... I've always found it hard to believe. Here's why.

First off, I think it's important to point out that in the books (as far as I know) Magnus never uses a glamor and has his cat eyes on display all the time. So why the glamor on the show and in the movie? Possibly for the intended dramatic effect whenever he reveals them or (what I personally think more likely) to save some CGI-budget for demons and explosions and stuff. Either way, the outcome is the same: Magnus covers his cat eyes with a glamor most of the time and reveals them only on a few special occasions. From now I'll focus on Show!Magnus because I know the show way better than the movie and I want to characterize Show!Magnus. Some observations may be true for Movie!Magnus too, but he's not the point in this.

1) Magnus is not only a downworlder but also a person of color, so I think it's safe to say he has faced his fair share of discrimination from people of the Shadow World (I'm looking at you, shadowhunters) and the Mundane World alike over the course of his long life. And he really doesn't seem to be the kind of person to be fazed by that. He's the kind of person to stand up for himself, to laugh a narrow-minded racist in the face and beat them at their own game. So I don't find it too convincing that someone telling him something negative about his cat eyes would upset him too much. Of course it's different from being discriminated against for his warlock-dom or his poc-dom because while there are fellow warlocks and fellow people of color there is no one with the same eyes as him, so being insulted for something that's part of him as an individual and that nobody else has is far more personal. It stings. A lot. But still. I can't really see other people's opinions about his eyes influencing his own opinion to that extent when he's used to tuning out insults and the like.

2) It seems kind of dumb, but why would anybody tell him his warlock mark is ugly? I mean, if an enemy insulted it, Magnus wouldn't even take it seriously. So the insult must come from someone close to Magnus for it to even possibly have any impact.

Okay, so which one of Magnus's friends could insult his warlock mark?

--- Warlocks: I can't really imagine a fellow warlock friend insulting his warlock mark, because, seriously. Who does that.

--- Other downworlders: I also find it unlikely that a fellow downworlder friend would do it. Downworlders share a history of being oppressed by shadowhunters (openly before the Accords, more subtle after the Accords, but if I remember correctly the Accords are like 200 years old? That would only be half (or quarter or whatever) of Magnus's life) and that creates common ground. Some sense of companionship. Sure, vampires and werewolves still hate each other, but we were looking at Magnus's friends. I find it hard to believe that any downworlder would insult the mark of a warlock friend.

--- Mundanes: It's a little hazy on the show if/how mundanes know about the Shadow World, there are some scenes in 2B that imply a few mundanes at least hang out with vampires, to feed and stuff? So they probably also know about all the other downworlders? Even though I thought the Clave was very insistent on mundanes not being in the know, then again who cares what the Clave wants? The downworlders certainly don't. Anyway, assuming Magnus really does interact with mundanes on a friendly basis (probably selling them potions and stuff) and reveals his warlock mark to them... I still find it unlikely that they would call it ugly since a) he'd likely only show it to a mundane he has some trust in and b) if the mundane wants something from him like a potion they would be pretty stupid to insult him. I could be persuaded that they are afraid of it. But being afraid and being disgusted is not the same thing, so there's that, and also I think a mundane happily meddling in the Shadow World should have better nerves than to freak out over some harmless cat eyes.

--- Ex-lovers: If an (ex-)lover really told Magnus that his eyes are ugly and he should keep them covered because they're disgusting, well, that sounds to me like extreme insensitivity at best, emotional abuse at worst. Also I think a person that says something like this doesn't act kind and gentle in every other aspect of their life, but is probably really rude and insensitive half the time anyway. Meaning after that relationship ends Magnus would, with time, see that that opinion shouldn't influence him because it came from a bad place and he wouldn't attach much importance to hurtful things that person might have said about his eyes. (.........yes I'm basically talking about Camille here lol.)

And of course there is that whole thing that I don't understand what anybody could find ugly about his cat eyes because, let's face it, they're sexy as hell!!!

............ugh, I'm man enough do admit that this really is no rational argument </3

Okay, but what now? If nobody close to Magnus really has a reason to insult him or Magnus has no reason to take a received insult seriously? It's kinda undeniable that Magnus has some kind of issue with his eyes, right? Just remember that bit in 2x18 that was actually from 2x07 during the infamous First Time Scene, where Magnus didn't even want to face Alec after his glamor dropped. And of course he described it as 'losing control' so he admitted to deliberately hiding his cat eyes.

Then there's this whole issue with Valentine and Magnus swapping bodies. Even though Valentine claimed he didn't have any control over Magnus's magic at the beginning, the glamor stayed up. Okay, that's probably because if Magnus had suddenly started walking around without his glamor after the failed summoning everyone would have been suspicious in two seconds flat, but just because there's a Plot Reason for something doesn't mean it can be ignored.

To me, it means that the glamor Magnus uses on his eyes is not something he actively maintains, but something that is firmly in place and that he needs to actively remove if he wants it gone.

How does that really fit together with Magnus saying he 'lost control' which made the glamor slip, implying he has to sustain the glamor? I don't know. Maybe he meant it in that way that his magic went haywire (= he lost control) and it dislodged the glamor... or maybe the show just contradicts itself in this, insinuating things in both directions. Which.... wouldn't be all that surprising, honestly.

One way or another, the fact remains that Magnus doesn't want his eyes on display all the time. To get behind a potential reason for Magnus's issues, look at this:

On what occasions does Magnus intentionally let his glamor fall?

1x01 Flashback: Answering the door (for Jocelyn, a shadowhunter) 1x01 Flashback: Performing the spell to take Clary's memories 1x01 Threatening a Circle member at the Pandemonium 1x04 During a fight with a Circle member at his loft 2x01 Practicing magic on the balcony (though he hides them as soon as Alec approaches, long before turning around) [Not counting 2x07 while macking with Alec because that wasn't intentional.] 2x08 Showing them to Max* 2x10 Showing them to Madzie [Not counting 3x02 because Magnus says his magic was useless and so his glamor disappeared unintentionally.] 3x08 During the Connection-to-visit-Jace's-Subconsciousness-Spell

*Taking a look at Magnus revealing his eyes to Max

it's obvious how uncomfortable he is: His smile disappears and he clenches his teeth. (Gif Source: pinterest.de/pin/556405728951646689)

So, besides revealing his eyes for the sole purpose of showing them to someone we have two situations:

i) While practicing magic. To be honest I'm not too sure if he really does that intentionally then or if it's just a byproduct of using his magic, but there's no way to know that. It is noteworthy though that he often practices (very poweful) magic without dropping his glamor, so him dropping the glamor doesn't seem to correlate with the severety of the spell he's casting. For example his glamor stays up while summoning a memory demon (1x04) and even a greater demon (2x11) or when fighting both Iris (2x08) and Lorenzo (3x09). I find it hard to believe that all these tasks were easier than a simple memory spell (1x01) or the dream-connection-thingy (3x08), so I think it’s reasonably justified to claim that he does it intentionally then. Coincidentally, those are occasions where shadowhunters (Jocelyn / the Lightwoods) are present while he performs the magic, but it is also noteworthy that in these instances his eyes aren't directed at a person but focused on the task at hand.

ii) During a fight with shadowhunters. I think it's pretty obvious that Magnus uses his cat eyes then as a means of intimidation, as a threat, a warning sign for others that he is dangerous. Not to be underestimated. Deadly.

Why? There are two possible explanations:

a) Because they are his warlock mark, highlighting the fact that he is a warlock with magic and he can kick ass with his magic. → It's not the eyes themselves, they act as a symbol for his warlock-dom.

or b) Because his eyes by themselves are a frightening sight. → It's the eyes themselves.

Either way Magnus himself thinks his eyes represent – directly or indirectly – danger and should be feared.

Why is that?

Well. You mostly believe something to be dangerous when you either know that it holds a certain destructive power or you know from experience that it has caused damage in the past. Since the cat eyes themselves hold no power I think it's safe to go with option two: Magnus has experienced the extreme and grave damage his eyes can do to someone. They were the reason, the trigger for his mother to kill herself. The reason his childhood found a violent and rather traumatic end, the reason he became an orphan and lost everything he had known up to this point.

In my opinion Magnus associates his eyes and what they mean to him with this event, because it was the first reaction, the imminent fallout of his eyes revealing themselves. That's why he thinks they are a means to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies and that is why he covers them, because they are a constant reminder of what happened to his mother. I don't think he himself finds them pretty or ugly, they are a part of him like everything else, but they are the part of him that broke his family and that's why he can't stand the sight of them.

Edit: Now, after 3A aired (since I wrote this whole thing before that) there is another, pretty straightforward explanation: They are the one thing he has in common with Asmodeus and they are a constant reminder of their time together which, on his own admission, made his skin crawl. To him, they are a symbol of his weakest moment, when he trusted the wrong person easily and let himself be shaped into something cruel and twisted. Those memories are shameful, and his eyes are evidence that once upon a time his wish to not be alone anymore and to mean something to someone managed to outweight his conscience. His eyes are living proof of the darkness within him, a darkness that would make him do unspeakable things, and so they represent the deadly force that is his power if he unleashed it.

In my personal head canon, when Alec inevitably says something cute romantic loving about Magnus's eyes, it doesn't magically heal his issues with them. But I think it soothes a part of Magnus, the knowledge that something that is so terrible for one person can be something beautiful for another, and with time I think he can accept that his eyes themselves are nothing inherently destructive and bad. I believe he would let himself be coaxed to lower is glamor occasionally, if Alec asks; but I don't think that he'd ever walk around casually without a glamor, not even at home when he's alone with (or without) Alec. That is a little sad, but I don't think you have to erase every issue you have in your life to be able to be truly happy.

[fantasyofscience-blog]

Wizard, werewolf, and metamorphagus walk into a bar

If I am being completely honest, it will be hard enough for anyone from the new generation in Hogwarts to find someone to date who is not their cousin. Seriously, Hogwarts is like 80 percent Weasley at this point. And dating life is hard enough without worrying if you are going to end up a werewolf after a wild night in the room of requirements. Or like…if your kid is going to come out with claws and pink hair. So here I present a genetic look at Hogwarts and dating. 

Firstly the obvious one. Do not date your cousins. Seriously. Not just because it makes family dinners incredibly awkward but also in case you decide to procreate you are in for some trouble. You know that something called DNA is basically telling your body how to…well exist. And this is done in units called genes. Every gene exists in two copies. Usually, you get one from your mom and one from your dad. And a lot of weird not fun diseases are genetic. Which means, there is a faulty gene that makes you sick. In most cases, you need both copies of this faulty gene to actually be sick. This is called recessive disease and a lot of the ugly ones are in this category like cystic fibrosis, Tay-Sachs or sickle cell anemia. Not great. The other version is a disease that is dominant, meaning you only need one gene to be faulty and you are screwed, but those are usually selected out of the population since everyone in every generation gets the illness and it is kinda hard to have kids with very serious disease. So if your wizard mom gave you some lovely faulty gene there is a good chance your mudblood dad was fine and save your ass from some troubles. But hey, you still might be a carrier of that faulty gene. And guess what, so is your cousin. So good luck with that. 

But it´s not just your cousins you should be worried about. Unless your cousin is Teddy Lupin. That guy is the ultimate triple threat. First things first, you do not really have to worry about furry surprises there. I mean unless we have some weird kink situation going on, no shame. Werewolfing is not hereditary. In most literature sources being a wolf is only transmitted by biting. Biologically speaking every change that happens to your body after the initial panic of where does every organ go and what eye colour should this child have, is not transmitted to your offspring. It´s like if you get a scar or something, this does not travel to your sperm cells or ovaries to tell them to make a note of it for your potential offspring. So we´re fine here. Honestly, the most interesting case of werewolves in Harry Potter is the one and only Bill Weasley.  I mean, how do you become sorta-but-not-really-werewolf? If being a werewolf would be like getting a virus that cannot be cured, then you can´t get a little bit sick. You either have it or you don’t. It could be possible that because he was not bitten properly, there was enough time for an immune system reaction that would not be possible with the full-on virus load. Or it might be magic.  

So what about metamorphaguses? Good news, that one seems to be nicely hereditary and also pretty cool. Since only one of Teddy´s parents is a metamorphagus and it does not seem there are any in Lupin´s family it is likely that the mutation is dominant. Which means you need only one mutated gene from one of your parents to get the mutation. In which case, half of your kids would most likely be able to make a hell of a dinner party. 

Oh, and by the way, this whole thing is useless if you decide to go for someone who is a veela or something. Those guys are a whole new species and that is a whole new level of complicated. And please do not try centaurs or giants. For like…logistic reasons. Well, good luck navigating love life in Hogwarts. 

[icarusatmidnight]

Oleander, Thyme, and Daed? :D

Absolutely!! :D Sorry, this took a few days too! I had many words, heh.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Oleander Everclear Wormwood.

Gender & Sexuality: Agender + Grey-aromantic pansexual.

Pronouns: He/Him or They/Them

Ethnicity/Species: Child of the Inbetween?? is his best guess??

Birthplace: Northern Iceland.

Guilty Pleasures: Ha, Oleander doesn’t do guilty pleasures. He likes what he likes and what he likes is nunya business~ :P

Phobias: Water in the sense of being wet; not being able to breathe.

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s pretty infamous as Lund’s former apprentice (har har) and for being an Archmage at a terribly young age, at least in the sense people know of him in a really vague sense.

What They Would Get Arrested For: He can be so lazy at times, I’m going to go with just plain ole trespassing or being Daed’s accomplice.

OC You Ship Them With: Thyme!! Kingcup too in that good brotp way, but Thyme’s the only person I ship him with ~*romantically*~.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Hahahahahahahaha!! Best of luck ‘cause you won’t succeed. Lund has the most motivation to do so though, just out of pure spite, but he’d never get close enough.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Horror, horror, horror! From classic and shitty, he loves bingein’ on horror films. Reading is basically a chore though so he doesn’t have a favorite there.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Mhm. I don’t think Oleander is well-versed in the language of cliches enough to know what his least favorite is. He doesn’t like it when the hidden big bad is revealed to be an Inbetweener (so so lazy and overdone!) or when people just split up. He’s always gonna death-glare while muttering to himself ‘why do you want to die?’. It’s just madness.

Talents and Powers: He’s absurdly talented with Anima Magic for his age and there’s …other… things… too… :)

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s sturdy like a rock! That’s definitely a huge reason both Kingcup and Thyme like him. It’s really hard to honestly rattle him and that’s kinda nice to have in a friend, you know? He’s also a massively sarcastic little dipshit with a sharp but not cruel tongue and a love of truly bad things. He knows how to have a good time, you know? :P

Why Someone Might Hate Them: I wanna say the massive sarcastic little dipshit thing sarcasm (and it’s definitely a possibility) but I honestly feel the monotony of his voice would probably get to people first. In high doses, I imagine it grates real easy.

How They Change: Out of the three mains, Oleander probably changes the least. He starts as a deadpan snarky kid who goes to support club to basically shut up his roommate and at the end, he’s still really similar to that person. But~! That’s okay. He ends knowing more about himself and what happened to him in his past and he’s on a much healthier path for healing because of that knowledge and that kinda overjoys me a lot. c:

Why You Love Them: !!! I love his silliness! I love his bluntness!! I love his monotone sarcasm and his love of ugly awful things that he sincerely feels are wondrous!! He’s been such an old character of mine for years and years now and I still just love learning new things about him and seeing how far he’s come from his original pissy protective edgelord beginning and I’m so so so happy I finally wised up and made him the main character of Icarus. It works so much better now. Just! /love love love

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Thyme René Oxeye!

Gender & Sexuality: Cisguy and bisexual!

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: He’s from a werewolf clan, though not technically one himself. He’s a junk wolf and has a bit of fae in him too. \m/!!

Birthplace & Birthdate: Romneya Backwoods and March 20th!

Guilty Pleasures: Tabletop RPGs. He needs to run a game for Oleander and Kingcup one day, needs!!

Phobias: He has a lot of general anxieties and a nasty habit of internally catastrophizing most of his actions but as for actual phobias, not really.

What They Would Be Famous For: Raising the Dead? Unfortunately??

What They Would Get Arrested For: I’ve mentioned it before but stealing dogs, for sure! He hates seeing them neglected and he has no qualms stealing them to give them some joy~ 💕

OC You Ship Them With: OLEANDER! 😭💕💕  I love them together so much but for less obvious choices though, him and Deacon are my strictly fwb guilty pleasure and I think him and Volkamenia would be good together too. They’re both just so cute and dopey.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: I wanna say Kingcup just because but she’s really not the type to murder. So Thyme’s roommate Deacon is gonna be my choice! They have a fun relationship. :’D

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Thyme loves documentaries so damn much, that nerd!! 😭! He knows so much useless and stupid info because of them, especially given how many bad ones he watches it. It’s ridiculous. Like Olea too, he’s not a huge reader but he likes …absurd queer adventures like River of Teeth? He’d love that kind of book.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Mhm. He’s really bored by gritty grimdark cynicism? Just, no.

Talents and Powers: He has his death empathy thing and Thyme totally does the Elle Woods ‘What, like it’s hard?’ thing when it comes to natural magic too, lol.

Why Someone Might Love Them: Despite his anxieties and insecurities, he’s a very outwardly bright and compassionate young man who does honestly try his best to bring some more warmth and happiness into the world.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Oh ho ho. Outside of his anxieties and insecurities which feel like unfair hits, Thyme comes off as a little goody two-shoes at times and someone who is more nice than he is kind. It’ll rub people that wrong way for sure but honestly? Kingcup is screaming that Thyme is far too reckless when it comes to his magic!! He took a miles width chuck of the Backwoods into the Inbetween, raised a rabbit from the dead, got burned and took none of that to heart!! What the Fuck, Thyme!! Any one of those things would be bad but all of them combined?! What were you thinking!!

How They Change: 😭😭😭💕💕💕  Thyme starts off treading through a sea of guilt while spiraling downwards in anxieties and chipperly trying to pretend ‘Everything Is A-Okay! :)’ It’s not, at all. I love seeing him grow the most of out of the three, coming to terms with his connection to death and what happened in the Backwoods and actually accepting kingcup isn’t wrong about him being a reckless little shit either thyme what the fuck. By the end, I’m basically rolling on the ground in glee and pride about how far he comes in maturing into and working towards that better version of himself that’s still uniquely Thyme and It’s Wonderful!

Why You Love Them: I love his sincerity! I love his anxieties! I love his compassion and I love his recklessness, oh my god! He is my darling bisexual disaster of bisexual and the type of character I’d fell over heels for as a teen. His journey is so so much fun and while he’s no longer my main character for Icarus, I still have a massive soft spot for him (clearly). His family back in Romneya is also extremely dear to my heart, lol. I adore puppy-like werewolves who just adopt every misfit in sight because ‘we’re your family now!! :D’. Sue me.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Ira Myrrh Young Daedalus York

Gender & Sexuality: Cisguy & Aro Ace!

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: He’s pretty human.

Birthplace & Birthdate: In the woods and he’s pretty sure it was like July 25th. Probably. 

Guilty Pleasures: See his favorite genres except like Olea, he ain’t that guilty over it. :P He really loves living domestic life too.

Phobias: Having his horror rub off and fuck up Oleander is kinda high up there. Also, he doesn’t like insects or iguanas.

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s pretty famous for his ability to break things and his vague detective skills too actually!

What They Would Get Arrested For: ….everything. Grand Theft Auto is real high on the list though.

OC You Ship Them With: No one, not his thing! I do think him and Thyme’s mother Dahlia would bond  (and drink) over their mutual aro-ness and their delinquent children though! FRIENDSHIP! FRIENDSHIP! FRIENDSHIP!

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Lund? His folks? Other Knights of Pandora? There’s plenty of options.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Trashy Romance Novels and Rom-Coms until he dies!!! \m/!!

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Blood-Family is Absolute. Some people you need to cut out of your life and cut them out viciously. Also, just badly written love triangles?? You can do so much better than ‘x loves y and likes z and can’t choose between them’.

Talents and Powers: He has a natural talent for breaking things. \m/

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s an effortlessly kind soul who tries his best to put some good back into the world. After all the Hell his folks have tried to raise, it’s the least he can do, you know? He’s also a great drinking buddy and the type of person who won’t ever leave you to feel sorry for yourself. He probably won’t actually help much but he’ll be there for you.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: People who figure out he’s a (former) Knight of Pandora tend to avoid him like a plague. Like there’s no need to get involve with them, and Daed doesn’t blame any of them any one bit. And while he is honestly very kind, he’s still blunt as fuck and doesn’t have the best handle of how to socialize politely.

How They Change: In the story, not much. He’s already dealt with his demons the best he’s ever gonna by then start so he doesn’t have much of journey. He’s actually more the mentor type to the three leads and I love him being the figurative dad/uncle type to them all. :’)

Why You Love Them: Daed’s Daed!! Oh my gosh, he’s a frickin snake in the best way. You see him and just thinks he’s a drunk idiot weasel and he kinda is but he’s also using that as a cover to map out your whole life and motivations and plans and figuring out if he needs to Deal With You or not.

But, you know, just for fun! :D

He’s just a strange character that you wouldn’t think sincerely wants to be a dad and dreams of having a cliche as fuck family but he does?? So so much?? Living in Dead Leaves with Oleander is like his dream come true and he’s so ready to help him be the very best Oleander that he wants to be! He’s also so ready to Beat The Ever-Loving Shit Out Of Anyone Who Dares to Hurt Oleander too. He knows Oleander can handle himself but he’s been through enough already. No more, no more.

[carriagelamp]

i've been trying to get back into reading novels but also I enjoy you ranting about your fave things so can you hype discworld for me?

DUDE YES THIS IS PRACTICALLY WHAT I WASMADE FOR (let me pull everyone into this bottomless pit)

The Discworld is a book series thattakes place in a high fantasy world (a flat disc that drifts thoughspace on the back of four elephants on the back of the giant spaceturtle A'Tuin).  Broadly speaking, it takes place in a fantasymedieval-ish period, but this gradually progresses throughout theseries and eventually approaches something like an industrialrevolution.

You know every time you’ve ever read afantasy book and a had a moment where you found yourself thinking “well… this iscool… but real people would never act that way in this sort ofsituation…” well my boy TPratt takes that mentality and fuckingruns with it.  The entireseries is satire, and is basically a love letter to both the fantasygenre and the human race as a whole.  The best thing about these books isthat Terry Pratchett is hilariously funny and unbelievably clever,and he uses that to reach his hand right into the very core ofhumanity and uses this silly fantasy world to poke fun at all thelittle weird ticks and tells that make us human, and he does it allusing trolls and dwarves and wizards and witches and dragons andwerewolves and vampires and Heroes anddamsels-very-much-not-in-distress.

Likedude, holy fuck, this man wrote an entire novel about a charactersetting up the city post office.  Okay?? like… the postoffice.  You’d think it’d beboring as dirt, but it’s one of my favourite books of the seriesbecause Pratchett gives you this notorious conman who was finally captured and was then sentenced and hung by the neckuntil… almost dead.  And then he’s given a choice.  Either thetyrant of the city can finish what the hangman started, or else hecan go become Post Master General… a job that has killed multiplepeople already in a very short period of time under very mysteriouscircumstances.  In that book you have everything from a land pirate, to ghost letters, to demon horses, to a Golem Lady (and a lady golem), to interfering gods, and a race against the clock that gives me fuckingthrills literallyevery single time I read it.  And that’s just one book!  Of a frigginenormous series!  There is so much to choose from!

I knowthe big stopping factor for most people when it comes to theDiscworld is the size.  It’s a pretty big series.  But the beautifulthing about it is that almost every book stands alone and you canjump in practically anywhere.  The more books you read, the betteryou understand the world, but it’s not necessary – it’s like anadded bonus.

How itworks is like this: the BIG OVERARCHING SERIES is called theDiscworld.  All those books more or less go in chronological order,starting with The Colour of Magic and moving forward.  However,within Discworld all the books also fit into a whole bunch of smaller character arcs. So the first few books of the series can be sorted like this:RINCEWINDBOOKRINCEWINDBOOKWITCHESBOOKDEATHBOOKRINCEWINDBOOKWITCHESBOOKINDEPENDENT BOOKCITYWATCH BOOK…etc…So all of them are Discworld books and part of the bigger, chronological story, but ifyou’re reading the Rincewind Arc, you could easily read books 1, 2,skip three and four because they’re parts of different arcs, and thenread book 5.  Get it?  Kinda?  That’s usually how people recommend you readDiscworld – rather than reading THE FIRST DISCWORLD BOOK (which is…honestly… not that great), pick up and read the first book of acharacter arc that interests you.  (Like for me when I read my first book, I inadvertently ended up readingthe thirty-sixth Discworld novel which was also the secondbook of a character arc. And I still understood it all well enough to fallin love with the series.)

Sowhere to start?

Absolutely,without a doubt, my go-to recommendation for people with the CityWatch arc.  The first book of the series is called Gaurds!Guards!  Why start here? Because it has Sam. Fucking. Vimes. Who is probably my single favourite literary character of all times. You have never read about a character who is more badass,kind, clever, and brutally efficient than Sam Vimes, or who has moreheart-breaking integrity.  He is a man who is very, very capable ofbeing terrible, and so he works himself to the bone to make sure he isgood.

Vimeslives in the Discworld’s largest city, Anhk-Morpork, where he’s theCaptain of the failing Night Watch.  This is the city’s policeservice, and it’s a joke.  It’s run by a few incompetents who’drather avoid trouble and who everyone else happily ignores.  Thisstory opens with Sam Vimes, dead drunk in a gutter.  This is SamVimes, this is his life, and he can’t imagine he could have a better one or that it could possibly be worth pursing – he was bright-eyed and hopeful once too but he’s seen the ugliness of the world and the people that inhabit it. The Watch is useless, and so is he.  Everything carries on asnormal… until the night a dragon attacks the city and no one wantsto acknowledge or accept what happened – but Vimes knows what he saw. So Sam Vimes needs to pull together his bumbling little team andfigure out the mystery of the dragon and how to save the city.

Eachbook in the Watch Arc is basically like a murder mystery, if murdermysteries had the added excitement of involving magic, dwarf laws,werewolves, foreign powers, and exactly as much forensic science as you’d expect in themiddle ages.

Ofcourse, if you don’t want to start with the Watch books, there’sother good arcs.  The one with the post office I described is just athree book arc that comes later on in the Discworld series aboutMoist Von Lipwig.  The first book of this series is Going Postal. He’s a smooth-talking ex-conman who’s as curly as a corkscrew andsharp as whip.  These books are some of the funniest, I think,because Lipwig is such an amusing character to read about – hemanipulates and lies and basically tapdances around everyone elsewhile they struggle to keep up with the illusions he’s weaving.  He makes people see the shine…

Toomany men for you so far?  Try the Witches books.  These have an almostexclusive female cast, with a handful of male character playingsupporting roles, which for me at least is a really refreshing change.  Unlike Vimes and Moist, they live outside ofAnkh-Morpork, off in the rural mountainside where they live as villagewitches, a job that is about 10% magic and 90% knowing more thanother people and being Right All The Time.  Their books often aresatires on famous literary works – the first one is called Wyrd Sisters and it’s a play on Macbeth, or the one I just finished reading was areally funny one that was a play on of Phantom of the Opera.

TheTiffany books are similar.  She’s another witch, but unlike GrannyWeatherwax and Nanny Ogg from the Witches Arc who are old, experienced, and incredibly powerful witches, Tiffany is a child, abrand-new witch who is only just beginning to learn the ropes and constantly has to prove herself.  She’stenacious, a little pig-headed, and the sort of person who uses herbaby brother as bait in order to fight a river monster with a fryingpan.  Because how could that be a bad idea?  She’ll spit in the fairy queen’s eyes herself if that’s what it takes.  The first book of thisseries is Wee Free Men, and it’s one of Pratchett’s books that was written for a slightly younger audience, so it’s a slightly shorter, easier read if you wanta more gentle introduction to the series.

Oneother series that I don’t generally recommend that people start with,but which you might like, is the Death Arc.  Where the maincharacter is literally Death himself.  The first book is called Mort,and it’s about a boy who inadvertently becomes Death’s apprentice,and everything that happens to him from there…  This book does come earlier in the Discworld series though, and sometimes I find if you aren’t “used” to Pratchett’s way of writing already when you read it, it can be a little hard to get through.

There’sa couple other arcs besides, and I can tell you about others if you like, butthose ones are sort of my ~favourites~ and the ones that I think aresome of the best for introducing new readers to. (If anyone tries totell you to start with the Rincewind series, politely walk away asfast as you can.)  Still, the Watch series is still my favourite ;)

Here’shoping I won you over, because I am always desperate to make peopledescend into Discworld hell with me~  Let me know if you decide toread any because I am always 150% ready to talk Pratchett with people~