#but yeah my parent don’t force faith on me much

[aggressivedaikons]

ok y’all btw I wanted to let you guys know if I ever tell you anything like ‘praying for you!’, since most of you aren’t religious/Christian and have the skewed stereotype of the hateful Christian born out of the abuse that they commit in the more traditional churches (I am so sorry for that by the way, I don’t consider those people to be real Christians at all and I dislike them just as much as all of you they are disgusting), I wanted to clarify a few things so it doesn’t feel as weird or rude as it may come across!

first things first: when I say that I’m praying for you, I am NOT trying to fix you. Yes, I genuinely believe in my religion like any other religious person of any religion would. two: I am NEVER doing it out of pity. It’s either my way of showing very real, genuine care (I don’t pray as often as I should and it’s something I already struggle to remember to do.), or the same kind of care but extremely panicked and about to have a emotional breakdown. Just know all it means is I care about you so much I’ll take hours out of my week sitting and worrying over you in a very loving manner. I mean I already do this for a lot of people but for you it’s even more special.

and the reason I do it is just because I believe it?? Like. Yeh. :D I think it helps, and whether all the times that it’s seemed to work was just coincidence or not, I’ve thought about it and I’d rather be wrong about a god and lived life with more of a conscious to do the right thing (never a bad thing!) then be wrong and hells actuallt real and stuff I actually could not tell you I just am taking a leap of faith.

so YES I’m not traditionally christan value wise and there are so many hateful christans who use prayer as a way to “fix” people even though that’s really stupid??? And rude??? For me it’s just me caring for you really hard and whether god’s real or not I mean like manifest?? If there’s no god, at least maybe it’s like. Manifesting love and care and support on ye <3

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER SEVEN - TOJI

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Within the next few minutes, I’ll be dead. I knew this the moment I saw that blue-eyed freak reappear after when I thought I killed him. Fucking sorcerers and their cursed technique bullshit. Maybe I was too confident thinking I would win the second time. I doubted myself at first, but then I calmed down… No. 

 I was just too confident.

 A world like this wasn’t meant for a monkey like me. I was born into a fucked up family that treated me like shit because I didn’t have any cursed technique. The scar on my lip reminds me of it every day. I got over it, though. I accepted this was my faith. I served my purpose, and it was time for me to go.

 Still, I can’t help but wish I made it out alive. That I had a little bit more time. 

 “Nah,” I replied, vaguely. 

 How am I supposed to answer some cliché question like that? 

 Any last words?

 Why would I tell him that? 

 Tell him about the thoughts and images that’s in my head.

 Tell him that I had a wife who I actually saw some good in me. Good enough to get pregnant and raise a kid together. Tch, me? Toji Fushiguro? A husband and father? I never thought I would live to see the day. And of course, it didn’t last long. 

 My wife died because of an incurable sickness. I never felt pain before. Not when I’m standing here with half my body blown off. Not when my family tortured me. But the day she died, I felt pain. I didn’t cry. I just felt empty. Felt like I had no reason to be decent anymore. How was I supposed to raise a kid by myself? 

 She told me I was going to be okay. 

 I wasn’t okay. 

 I’m a fucked a person.

 A fucked up father.

 . . . I was never made to be a fucking dad. Me selling my son to my family is better than what I could’ve done for him. It wouldn’t make any difference if I was or was not in his life because I would never be good enough to be a father. . . A person. . . But I met. . . Her.

 In my final moments, I think of my late wife, my son, and—

“Dad!” Megumi’s deafening voice wakes me up. “It’s almost five. We have to go to the store.”

  What the…

 What the fuck was that? 

 Lately my mind has been clogged with thoughts and what feels like memories I used to have. Could never decipher them, but that dream was probably the clearest I had. 

 Me being on the verge of death (wouldn’t be the first time), apparently being killed by some blue-eyed fuck. Giving Megumi away to the Zen’in Family? Like fucking hell. I would endure the shit they put me through every day for the rest of my life knowing it would keep my kid safe. I just don’t understand these dreams I’ve been having.

 Are they signs? Is my judgment day coming where I would have to atone to my sins? Some bad shit about to happen to me? Megumi? I don’t fucking know. 

 I don’t care for karma. I don’t care for faith, destiny, or any of that manifestation bullshit. But I do believe in purpose, and sometimes I feel like I don’t have any. That there isn’t any.

 I’m a dad. For what? To fail my son. I was a husband, had my flaws but shit, I tried. And for what? To lose her only after being parents together for eight years? It was unexpected. Nature calling, and at the moment, I never hated whatever fucking god above so much because they took her away from me. 

 From me and Megumi.

 Please take care of Megumi.

 It’s like I can hear her lecturing me about all the times I had our kid eating take out or having him walk home alone from school. 

 Take care of Megumi. . . Yeah, I’m trying.

 I have to do better.

 I need to.

 The little purpose I have is left for him.

 “If you can’t go anymore, can you at least give me the money so I can go by my-”

 “No,” I interrupted, clearing my throat. “No, let’s go. Sorry, kid. Your old man was dozing off.”

 Here’s another thing about being a parent. Being around other parents who force small talk while their kids go off and buy shit. Because we’re parents, that means we have to share funny stories and randomly show baby photos to people you don’t even fucking know. Why? I don’t know, but I bet the mom next to me that has been talking my ears out for the past fifteen minutes could tell you.

 Having Megumi as my kid means he’s going to have most, if not some, of my traits. One of them being how much of a loner I am that appreciates his space. After my failed attempt to walk around with the kid to maybe have some father-son bonding, I figured I just stand at a comfortable distance and let him do his own thing. 

 No pressure. I’m on his time. Not the other way around.

 Still, me standing alone was not a fucking invitation to talk to me.

 I respect women. I do, but I’m two seconds away from telling her to fuck off in the nicest way possible. 

 Though, I have a reason why she approached me to begin with. 

 How she’s invading my space, trying her hardest for me to look at her tits. The extra pout she gives her lips while talking to me. How she’s still asking me one off questions, despite my vague one word answers.

 She’s looking to get fucked, but she’s just too shy to say it. 

 Attractive for most part. Probably five-foot-ten, maybe in her late thirties. Strong perfume. Hair drops right below her jaw. 

 Hm, not my type. 

 “So, here’s another photo-”

 “Sorry, why are you showing me these again?” I abruptly asked. 

 “I—” she stumbles over her words, pushing her hair back while giving me a timid smile.

 “Seems like you had other reasons.”

 “Like?”

 I shrug. “To get fucked.” I can tell that my brute honesty throws her off a bit, but she gathers herself. 

 “Are you offering?”

 “No.”

 She’s probably taken back by my response. I wouldn’t know because I casually walked away to the next aisle. 

 Back in Tokyo, I gained attention, but in America? The women here look at me like I’m a fucking piece of meat. Not that I don’t mind, but shit. 

 What would help if they didn’t waste both our time with trivial chit chat and just cut straight to the chase. 

 Anyways. 

 Told the kid I’ll be walking around the store if he needs me, and of course he replies with whatever . Like I should be surprised. 

 He’s my son, after all. 

 Pretty packed for a Tuesday night at the store. Guess all the parents are out buying their kids shit, too. While Megumi is getting his supplies together, figured I could go to the meat section to make dinner tonight. Probably hot pot for the kid and offal for me. 

  Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this parenting shit right. You know, letting Megumi be by himself to buy things while I roam around. Probably not because I see families throughout the store and they look happy, for the most part. 

 The look on their faces, the light conversations they’re having about who knows what. . . I can tell this is going to be one of those fucking nights for me. 

 Remember there was a point in my life where I was content with the small family I created. My wife. Megumi. Living in the shittiest apartment building back in Tokyo and barely making ends meet. 

 I came from a wealthy family. One of the wealthiest in Japan. I was supposed to be a silver spooned brat that was grateful to be born into money, only later to be beaten and emotionally abused, which eventually left me in the streets. 

 And you know after all the shit those Zen’in fucks put me through regardless of the amount of money I had access to, I’d always choose what I had with my wife and my strained relationship with Megumi. 

 But of course, any good that happens to me is only temporary. Can only imagine how long I have left with Megumi until he turns eighteen and moves far away from me if he decides to go to college. 

 Is it wrong for me to wish my kid would cut me some slack? Probably, but that’s not something I would ever ask him. Though, I can fucking admit that it stings how he addresses me has changed over time. 

 Daddy to Papa, now to Dad. Soon he’ll start being formal and shit by calling me father or even my first name. I guess I should be grateful he’s calling me anything at all. 

 Damn, if I liked alcohol, I would’ve said I need a drink right now. Maybe a few. Being in family settings makes me feel the emotion I hate feeling the most. Vulnerability . 

 It makes me feel weak, like I’m pitying myself. I don’t care for pity. I don't care to say I didn’t deserve to experience trauma. It happened. There’s shit I can do about it. No point for me to keep thinking about it. 

 It’s just hard when your son doesn’t even want to be seen with you in public to go school supply shopping. 

 I need to clear my head. 

 Already worked out twice today, and clearly that’s not working. Maybe some pussy. It’s been a while since I last had sex. Maybe I need…

 Y/N .

 Here I am again thinking about her at the most random fucking times. I said I need her. Would I ever tell her that?  Most likely not. 

 How can I tell a woman that I don’t know that I need her? To be around her and have her bubbly personality overshadow my grumpiness. To stare at her in dead silence and think how fucking pretty she is. How good she smells. How can I tell Y/N that? 

 She’s good company. 

 That’s all she is…

 Soon she’ll see I’m no good. 

  “Miss L /N told me you’ve been doing good in class, kid.”

 Been home with Megumi for about two hours now. School shopping is not fucking cheap, to say the least. My job pays well, but the cost of shit in America is still something I’m trying to adjust to, especially in comparison to Japan. 

 Megumi is the only reason why I haven’t gotten broke yet. 

 “Yeah,” he responds flatly.

 I stuff my mouth with a piece of meat. “Want to talk about it?”

 “Not really.”

 “Alright.”

 There goes that loud silence. 

 I continue, trying to keep conversation. “Food's good?” He nods. “Think you got everything you needed for school?”

 “Yes, Dad.” Annoyance fills his voice, making it very clear that I’m bothering him. 

 “Everything’s okay?” I asked. 

 “Can’t we just eat in silence? Why are you forcing conversation?”

 Oh.

 “Sorry, kid. Just trying-”

 Megumi pushes back his chair, standing up with his plate in his hand. “I’m going to my room. Thanks for dinner.”

 What the fuck am I doing wrong?

 I talk, he’s annoyed with me. I don’t talk, I feel like he’s being neglected again. Not sure if I’m giving Megumi too much space or just enough space, but it’s kind of fucking hard when I don’t how he feels. 

 When you come from an abusive family that doesn't know how to give or receive love, it passes onto you and potentially it’ll pass onto your child. 

 That’s what I’m trying to prevent. 

 I was scared as shit when my wife first told me she was pregnant. I mean, how the fuck was I supposed to be a dad? I don't know what it feels like to have one. But I knew I was going to be okay if I had her by my side.

  I’m a fucked up person. . . A fucked up father. 

 “Fuck, I need to take a walk,” I say to myself. 

 I get up to put the leftovers in the oven so I can finish later. Before I walk out the door, I tell Megumi I’m stepping out for a while and guess what he says? 

 Whatever. 

  Patience, Fushiguro. Patience.

  Be kind to yourself, Toji . That’s what Y/N told me the other day. I have messaged or contacted her at all since I got her number yesterday. Maybe I need to talk to her… see her… just for a little bit. 

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

discussion question #3 — the more we see toji and megumi's relationship, struggles are shown between them. more so, on toji's part. do you think he should continue making small talk or allow megumi to come around whenever he's ready? looks like toji is afraid to let that happen because he doesn't want megumi to feel neglected. thoughts?

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Shmuel | The Cost Of The Truth | Romantic

Dialogue prompts: “I didn’t know you could love me like that” & “I will never be enough for you, will I?”

When both you and your father Nicodemus take an interest in the Preacher Shmuel so despises, your marriage is bound to collapse.

Requested by Kacey, Mae & Katie 

You don’t like having to sneak around your own home, but you have no choice. Upon returning to your house from visiting your parents, you’ve slipped upstairs to the study without making a noise. 

Once there, you take out whatever you had been hiding underneath your cloak. A small scroll, able to fit inside the palm of a hand, sits between your fingers, unsealed. As you look over your shoulder towards the door, a sigh of relief floods you as you find yourself completely alone. 

You unravel it, thumbing at the inscription on the parchment. Your father’s hand is all too familiar as you swallow hard upon reading what he has written. A report about Jesus of Nazareth. It is detailed, hastily scribbled as if he had been afraid to be found out writing such a thing, and quickly rolled up into a scroll without allowing the ink to dry, causing it to be a little smudged here and there. In spite of its messy appearance, the report can still be read clearly. 

Nicodemus had pushed it into your hands upon your departure with a whispered order. “Don’t show anyone.” Not your mother. Not your husband. Nobody. A member of the Sanhedrin cannot be seen voicing a decree of faith as strong and scandalous as your father’s. 

Your heart swells and beats for every word about this Preacher from Nazareth, Who is so much unlike any other prophet that had brought the Word of God to the people. Words and actions so unlikely that there was no other explanation but for Him to be the Messiah, the One that had been promised - a proclamation that would not sit well with the religious leaders. After all, it meant that everything everyone had ever believed about the coming of the Messiah would turn out to be false. A dangerous mixture of pride, dogma and tradition lingered at the horizon. 

Downstairs, the door opens and closes. “Darling, are you home?” Shmuel’s voice fills the home, and you quickly hide the letter in one of the drawers, straightening yourself out before heading for the door of the study. 

“I’m here.” you greet him, meeting him in the hallway. He removes his headdress and grabs your hand to kiss your knuckles. “How was work?”

Shmuel sighs. “It was difficult today, but Yanni and I are making progress. We’re going to get some members of the Sanhedrin on our side so that we can finally tackle the issue from its root.”

“Issue?” you feign ignorance.

“Jesus of Nazareth.” Shmuel says the name with such disdain that it causes your throat to run dry. 

Your husband mistakes the draining of colour from your face for fear of the Preacher in question. 

“Don’t you worry, my dearest. He will not be a problem to our people for much longer. Everything will go back to normal before we know it.” 

He squeezes your hand, then frowns a little as if realising something. 

“Have you prepared dinner yet? I can’t make out any distinct smells of food.” 

You quickly force a smile on your face.

“I was about to start. I’ve visited my parents, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah. How are they doing? How’s your father?” 

You let out a sigh. “He’s recovering slowly but surely.”

Shmuel gives you a smile as he ushers you towards the kitchen.

“That’s good to hear. Now, let me tell you that I’m starving.”

“Okay, I’ve received the message.” you sigh, part of you relieved that he doesn’t  inquire further about what you had discussed with your father. As he heads to the bedroom to change into something more casual, you start working on dinner. 

— 

A while passes and Shmuel is talking about Jesus more often than not. The letter from your father still burns inside the drawer of your desk, calling out to you, waiting to be shared. However, Nicodemus had meant these words for your eyes alone. It feels heavy on your heart. You love Shmuel, you truly do, even though your marriage had been an arranged one. The fact that you cannot share your newfound faith with your own husband is like a burden in and of itself.

A flurry of memories has been dancing around inside your mind lately, consisting of your first years of marriage to the rabbi whom was just a student at the time of the wedding. A pious, diligent and ambitious young man with a soft smile that made you weak at the knees. When Nicodemus and Zohara made the right arrangements with his parents in Jerusalem, you were overjoyed to hear the news. After all, you had plenty of friends who married men they ultimately didn’t grow to love even after years of being together. You already knew that you loved Shmuel before the entire topic of marriage even came up in the first place. 

And it turned out to be a good match. The pair of you grew to love one another deeper as time went on and you really felt like you and him were equally yoked. Everything about what you felt for him was visible even in the little things you did for him. Not only were you a homemaker who never complained about his late hours at work, but you did small things, too, like baking him a cake for his birthday or stitching up holes in his clothes before he had even noticed them himself. “I didn’t know you could love me like that,” was something Shmuel tended so say every so often, for it was a mystery to him how you could show him such genuine appreciation. “A love like this is something I didn’t know even existed.” 

Until a love greater than that suddenly seemed to exist, too. A kind of love that was different from the romantic type of bond two people could form with one another. A spiritual, divine love. A love between God and mankind, rooted in undeserved mercy and grace. 

A love that according to you can go hand in hand with your marriage to Shmuel, but a love that according to him cannot coexist. 

It tears at your household and rips it apart at the seams. No longer equally yoked. You are fully aware what choice you might have to make, even if it meant ripping your own heart to shreds. Your marriage has been crumbling. Shmuel knows — suspects something — but he doesn’t outwardly say it just yet.

You adore him. You’d do anything for him. He’s still the man you want to grow old with, to father your children, to have it all with. 

But for that to happen, something has to change. Sooner or later, it has to change in order to—

“—What is this?!” Shmuel barges into your shared bedroom one morning still in a state of undress. If he didn’t have such a furious look on his face you’d have snorted at the way his beard is trimmed only halfway. 

“What is what?” you look up from brushing your hair, turning to him to face him better. He hands you a letter all too familiar and your heart sinks into your gut like a heavy stone to the bottom of the Sea of Galilee. “It’s a letter.” 

“I can see that.” Shmuel hisses. “But to whom, and from whom? And the contents? Not to mention the location where I found it! It seems like you deliberately hid it from me.”

For a moment, you consider telling him off for fingering through your personal belongings, but you know you’ll only end up arguing even more than this will cause you to. You swallow hard, but don’t feel any shame. “My father wrote to me.” 

“About Jesus of Nazareth. And you happened to forget to tell me?! Especially that he believes the words of this heretic? Because that is what I’m getting from this message!” He throws the parchment into your lap and glares down at you. 

No guilt tugs at your heart — only pity, and the wish that things were different — and you let out a long sigh. 

“Shmuel, listen. My father and I have been talking about Jesus for a long time, because there is a lot to be said about Him, both His words and actions, and my father has been—” 

“—Believing in that heretic! That’s blasphemy and he should be brought before the Sanhedrin! Your father could get stoned for this!” 

“He knows the rules— Just listen to me, Shmuel! You have always greatly respected my father and his words, why not now?”

“Why not now— Are you even hearing yourself, (Y/n)?! Jesus is a heretic! A blasphemer!” 

“And what if He is not? What if that everything you knew about the Messiah turns out to not be true?!”  

Your husband grits his teeth as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“And what if He is? He claims to be the Son of God! You… You don’t believe in Him, do you?” He shakes his head, pointing a finger at you. “Tell me you don’t, (Y/n). I love you, but I can’t be with a woman who…” 

His voice trails off, but he has said enough for it to sting you to the very bone. You swallow away the lump in your throat. Your silence, Shmuel realises, speaks volumes. “You… Have strayed from the path of faith.” Something shifts in his gaze. Something you’ve never seen on him before. You don’t like it one bit.

“No. Quite the contrary - it’s been gaining its true meaning. Now that the Messiah is here—”

“Do not call Him that!” 

You stand up firmly, meeting Shmuel’s gaze, almost standing chest-to-chest with him as you look up unwavering. 

“You do not get to dictate who I do and do not believe in!” 

“You’re my wife, (Y/n). You should listen to your husband!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“No, you have no idea what you’re talking about!” 

The two of you lock eyes. Your heart clenches inside your chest painfully, for you don’t want to argue with him, nor do you want division in your household. 

“Where is the Shmuel I know?” you whimper, “The kind man who was eager to learn from my father? The one my father spoke so highly of, because you were always so keen to put the Word of God into practise more than your peers? What happened to you?” 

“I could say the same thing about you.” Shmuel hisses, “Where is the respectable woman I married? The one who was always so happy to see me after a long day at work, who always listened to me talk about anything, the woman who always prepared me dinner and was there for me when I needed her?”

“She’s still here.” you counter, “But the way you have been acting ever since Jesus showed up is not the man I know and love.” 

“Things change, (Y/n).” Shmuel sounds sharp and almost accusatory.

“I know.” Your voice wavers, tears brimming on your eyes. “I know.” 

When Shmuel gives you an expectant look, you don’t reply to it. “So… Are you going to do something about it?” He frustratedly asks.

“About what?” 

“Going back to being the woman I used to love.” 

Used to love. 

Whereas you had not let it cross your lips, for you still loved him deeply, Shmuel was suddenly more firm on where he stood. 

“Used to?” your voice breaks. “So you don’t…” you trail off, not daring to say it out loud.

“I can’t. I can’t love a follower of that heretic. A follower of the Man claiming such ridiculous things…” 

Shmuel’s own dark eyes are swimming with tears as well. He refuses to spill them in front of you, not wanting to show weakness or vulnerability, not even when your entire marriage may very well depend on this moment. 

“This is heresy. You are a weak-minded fool falling for the words or a lunatic. Choosing His words over your own husband’s. I can’t love a woman like you.” 

That does it. The tears fall and roll down your face as you choke back a sob.

“Take it back. You don’t mean that, take it back.” 

For a moment, you see a flash of guilt cross his face. It hardens just as fast.

“No. I will not fail this test Adonai is putting me through right now.” 

“Test?!” you gasp, offended, “Shmuel, don’t be ridiculous! How could you ever even consider that this would be God’s way of testing your faith—” 

“—Because you’re just like them!” 

With widened eyes, you stare at him for a long moment. “Like them, huh? I… I will never be enough for you, will I? You won’t even hear me out as much as you’ve heard out Jesus. You have made up your mind already.” 

Shmuel steps closer to you, glaring down at you. 

“I want you out of my house.” 

“Very well.” you whisper, knowing it’s better to sleep about it for a night or so, taking a little distance to process the situation. 

Your heart is heavy as it teeters on the precipice of shattering inside your chest. Your husband’s eyes drill into you as he watches you start packing a few essentials.

“Your family deserves all the shame coming your way.” Shmuel spits like his words are poison, “Both you and Nicodemus are a sham. I hope it was worth it, losing everything we had for this…. This heretic Preacher.” 

You close the flap of your bag and pull it over your shoulder. “I’ll be headed towards the inn.” you say, “Will you come and get me when you’re ready to talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be sending you away.” 

Shmuel is looking at you with so much hatred in his gaze that you suddenly doubt if you’ve ever been married to him in the first place, or if he’d ever truly loved you at all. 

“Okay.” you whisper. It would make following Jesus around the cities somewhat easier, you suddenly think, but it’s accompanied by a bitter hurt that clenches inside your chest and sends a wave of nausea through you. “I’ll see you around, then. I… I love you.” 

“Don’t you ever say these words to me again, woman.” Shmuel hisses. “You’re just like the rest of them, you Jezebel, you—” 

You close the door behind you, trying to fight your emotions as you refuse to hear him yell these lies told right into your face any longer. Shmuel does not yank it open again, instead stares at the wood for a long while, unable to stop his own tears.

With a heavy heart, you head for your father’s house, your blood rushing inside your ears as you head through the streets, feeling torn to shreds. 

For a moment, you halt to rest and look up at the sky, drinking in the sight of the moon. Your tears glitter in its light. Looking over your shoulder, you hope Shmuel will come running, to follow you, to keep you from leaving him and begging for you to tell him more about Jesus, and that he believes that He is the Messiah…

…But he doesn’t come.

The alleyway remains empty. 

“You know the truth, even though it offends you.” you whisper into the darkness, “Now it’s up to you what you do with it.” 

A silent plea to the man you love so deeply. 

Shmuel cries silently in the hallway and gazes out of the window, hoping you’d round the corner, praying you’d return straight for the door, to tell him that you’ve made a grave error in your judgement and that you want to be with him over anything else. That your beliefs had been muddled by pretty lies and that you’d do anything to get back on the path of good faith.

The road leading up to your home also remains void of you. 

Shmuel looks up and looks upon the same moon.

Three hearts break that night.

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

Covenant- Chapter 2

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC Claire

Warnings: Odin is a bad parent, arranged marriage, sexist societal norms, Loki being a dick

Read it on A03 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51197938/chapters/129363727#workskin

Covenant Chapter 2

New York

The following day, after a night of drinking, eating way too much greasy pizza, and binging action flicks, Claire went back to talk to Thor. The reality of her fate hadn’t quite settled in yet and Claire wanted to get some answers before she had time to overthink.

Claire had half expected Clint to drop from the vents again, but her elevator ride went undisturbed. It took her longer to find Thor, because people kept stopping her to congratulate her or talk to her. She hadn’t considered how quickly the news would have spread, and wished the floor would swallow her whole.

While the fifth person was talking her ear off about how lucky she was, Claire finally spotted Thor and Jane.

“Nice talking to you, gotta go!” she bolted toward the couple, leaving the woman in the dust. Thor turned toward her thundering footsteps and grinned, waving excitedly.

“Claire! How do you fare?” Thor asked as she drew near.

“Um…surviving,” Claire mumbled. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping to pick your brain.”

“Of course! Anything for my new sister!” Thor said cheerily, wrapping her in a tight hug that made her spine pop like a sheet of bubble wrap. “Are you preparing for your journey?”

“Yep. Totally,” Claire lied, wincing as he released her. “Actually no, I’ve been too focused on everything that’s about to happen to even think about packing. I was hoping you could tell me about Loki.”

“Ah,” Thor said gently. He turned to Jane and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Excuse us, my love, I shall be back soon.”

“Okay. Bye Claire.” Jane offered her a small wave, which Claire returned before she and Thor left the room.

“What would you like to know?” Thor asked as they walked toward the elevator.

“What the hell am I walking into?” Claire asked. “Loki wasn’t the most sane person when he came here, and he’s been in prison for the past five years, right? So safe to assume, he’s a basket case.”

“The years have not been kind to Loki, it is true,” Thor mused. “When I saw him last…he was not well. But I don’t wish for you to despair- he will not harm you.”

“I know- the contract is very clear,” Claire shook her head. “I can handle myself; that’s not- look, I know about what he was like when he was here, and clearly his mental state hasn’t improved since then. And I can’t exactly judge, but I need to know. What was he like before?” Claire asked. “I can work with shitty mental health, but didn’t you say he was at least a decent person when you guys were younger?”

“Oh yes,” Thor grinned. “Loki has always been mischievous, but underneath he was studious and honorable. He will treat you as you deserve.”

“So you think we’ll get along?”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Thor said quickly. “You both are strong-willed, but in time I think- I know you will come to understand one another and who knows? Perhaps you will grow to love one another.”

“Yeah, that’s what every girl dreams of; maybe falling in love with her husband,” Claire snorted. “God, what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking to spare Jane and I from being forced to live a lifetime apart,” Thor replied. “You sacrificed your future for ours. For that I thank you. It was most admirable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Claire brushed him off, the sentimentality making her feel nauseous. “I expect a fantastic wedding present.”

“Name it, and you shall have it.” Thor said with all seriousness. Claire didn’t really want anything, and she’d been joking about the gift.

“A talking llama.”

“A what?”

“A talking llama!” Claire insisted.

“I have never heard of such a thing.” Claire slapped Thor’s bicep as she laughed.

“I have faith in you, big guy,” she cackled. “Now, what else can you tell me about him? What was he like when you were kids?” Thor smiled.

“Have I ever told you about the time Loki stabbed me?” he asked excitedly.

~~~~

The two weeks waiting for Njord to return passed both too quickly, and too slowly. During the day, Claire spent her time going through her things and deciding what would go with her. Her furniture was sold, books were sorted, clothes were folded. She put in information requests for any and all intelligence S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed about the god of mischief and to her surprise, received it in less than 24 hours. Records was notoriously slow, but she supposed the fact she was about to marry the guy meant she had a right to file requests being fulfilled expediently.

Her nights were spent doubting every decision that led her here.

With one week burned, Claire shifted into research mode. The intelligence folder was lighter than she was hoping for, so she turned to the greatest possible resource: the internet. She spent days scouring every corner of the web, padding her intelligence folder as well as she could.

Phil came by several times to help her pack. Since she was traveling via bifrost, Thor had advised against taking too much at once. Phil helped her decide which books to put into short-term storage. The clothes and books she decided not to keep were hauled away by junior S.H.I.E.L.D agents to be donated. Phil made arrangements for whatever food she didn’t eat to be donated to a local food pantry.

With two days until her departure, Phil was at her apartment once again to go through the bags she’d packed and make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Claire was becoming slightly unhinged as her time on Earth dwindled. She’d made a list of every food she needed to eat ‘one last time’, and decided to spend every penny she had on food, booze, and books.

“Are you sober enough to have a serious conversation?” Phil asked.

“Sure,” Claire said, taking another sip of her whiskey. She really wasn’t, but she didn’t care. “Shoot.”

“What are you planning to do about your special project?” Claire’s heart twisted. Her mother’s murder, her ‘special project’ as she and Phil called it, had never been solved. Orphaned at sixteen, Claire had been trying to solve the mystery ever since. Fourteen years later, Claire had identified a number of Hydra agents who’d been present, but she still didn’t know why her mother had been targeted. Why she had been targeted.

Phil was the only family she had left. He’d been in her life since she was a child, and had taken her in after her mother’s death. He’d been the one to nudge her in the direction of S.H.I.E.L.D, sponsor her late entry into the academy. He’d also notified her of an opening on Captain Rogers’ S.T.R.I.K.E team, which would have been an excellent addition to her resume.

It also would have given her an opening to question Brock Rumlow, but Rogers picked Rollins instead. She was still pissed about it. For all his talk about equality, the man still seemed to favor men over women.

But in the massive disruption that occurred at the DC headquarters in 2014, her suspicions about Rumlow had been confirmed. Both he and Rollins were confirmed to be Hydra, as had many other agents she’d befriended over the years. Friend had turned against friend, not just in DC, but at every headquarters S.H.I.E.L.D operated out of. A number of the agents on her list were confirmed Hydra agents, but it was difficult to extract information out of a corpse.

“I don’t know,” Claire said softly. “There’s not much I’ll be able to do off-world.” The thought made her burn with rage. Her mom deserved justice. Putting the investigation aside, for any reason, made her beside herself with guilt. Working for S.H.I.E.L.D was different- her work as an investigator of 0-8-4’s allowed her to travel far and wide, and poke her nose where it didn’t belong, something she used to further the investigation into her mom’s case when she could.

Once she moved to Asgard...everything else would come to a standstill.

“Leave me a list,” Phil said. “You still you have the DNA from the crime scene, right?”

“Of course.”

“If anyone on your list gets injured, I’ll get something to compare to what you’ve got.”

“How are you going to get anything out of Medical?”

“If you must know, one of the staff owes me a favor,” Phil replied. “It’s not the end, Claire.” He knew how deeply this affected Claire. The death of her mother hung over her like a dark cloud, and as the years passed with one dead end leading to another, her guilt grew.

“Feels like it.” Claire drained her glass and set it aside heavily . Silence settled in the apartment as Claire

“ I got you something,” Phil produced a small wrapped package, holding it out to her. “Here.” Claire leaned over to grab the package, eagerly tearing into the paper to reveal a thick book on Norse mythology.

“Thanks, Uncle Phil,” Claire laughed, thumbing through the selection of tales. “I’m sure this will be very helpful.”

“Of course. I’d hate for you to go to Asgard without knowing anything.”

“ You’ll go with me, right?” Claire focused on the cover of the book, fingers trailing over the intricate knot work illustration. She glanced up, her eyes full of sudden doubt.

“ Of course I will. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you show up in style,” Phil assured her. “But first, you need to sober up.”

~~~~

     Asgard

For the first time in nearly five years, Loki woke in his bed in his chambers. It was still early in the morn, before the palace residents came alive to assume their duties. Servants were no doubt already awake and bustling about, preparing the morning meal and helping prepare their betters for the day.

As if on cue, Loki heard the main door to his chambers open. Within a few moments, Loki’s personal servant Astrid entered his sleeping quarters. He watched as she set about opening the curtains and putting away his laundered clothing. She disappeared into the large bathing room off his sleeping area, and he heard her start running a bath for him.

It was all so familiar and comforting. Like he’d never left. Loki’s eyes began to sting, and he was grateful to still be under the blankets. He absolutely was not crying. To cry over something so small would be foolish, indeed. He was not a child.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Astrid called to him gently. “I’ve started your bath.”

“Good morning Astrid,” Loki replied softly. “It is nice to be back.”

“It is nice to have you back, sire. Now come along, today is a big day for you.” Loki stomach sank like a stone.

His future wife arrived today.

Not for the first time since his release from prison, Loki wondered if he’d been a fool to agree to this.

“Come, come!” Astrid chirped, pulling the blankets down from his face. “Yes, yes, I know, but you cannot meet your future bride looking like a ragamuffin.” she chastised him when he groaned. She ushered him into the bath quickly, making quick work of wetting his hair.

“Gods, Astrid, must you remind me?” he sputtered as she scrubbed his scalp with determination.

“Oh, hush. One should think this is a happy day!” Astrid replied as she worked. “Perhaps it is simply because I have cared for you since you were a boy. To think, you will be married soon, with little ones of your own!”

“Ugh.” Loki groaned, sinking down into the water to rinse his hair.

“My goodness,” Astrid said as she began to scrub his skin. “If I did not know better, I would say His Majesty is not looking forward to meeting his intended.”

“Of course I’m not,” Loki grumbled, arms crossing over his chest as he scowled at the sudsy water. “I may be out of prison but I’m not free, Astrid, not really.” Astrid made a noise of sympathy as she scrubbed his shoulders.

“Sometimes what we want blinds us to what we need,” the older woman said wisely. “This could be a blessing in disguise.”

“It feels like a death sentence,” Loki spluttered as Astrid dumped water on him. “Well it does!” The woman clicked her tongue at him in disapproval.

“I’m sure she is perfectly lovely. No doubt this will be a big change for her as well,” Astrid said as she climbed out of the stone tub. “I shall leave you to collect your thoughts. Do not dawdle, Your Majesty.” she gave him a knowing look before leaving him alone in the bath. Loki sank into the water up to his nose, blowing bubbles in the cooling water as he exhaled. Astrid was right. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

Loki dried his body with magic as he walked out of the tub, making his way to the changing area where Astrid waited to help him dress. He didn’t speak as she wrangled him into his leathers with practiced precision and combed his hair.

“There. You look very handsome,” Astrid said with satisfaction as she straightened one of the panels on his chest. Loki noticed her eyes misting, but he supposed the room did need dusting. “Do try to be charming, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Loki rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Astrid.” She curtsied as well as her aging knees allowed and he left without a backward glance.

~~~~

“You’re pacing.” Frigga said from her seat. Of course she was calm- her life was not changing for the worse today. Throughout breakfast and his morning’s preparations, Loki had felt increasingly ill at ease as the time passed. Based on the slant of the sun’s morning rays, he had barely twenty minutes of freedom left. The bifrost had already announced the arrival of the delegation from Midgard and his future wife. Loki pulled on his collar, convinced he could feel it tightening around his windpipe.

“I am tense.”

“Anyone could see that, my darling. Relax,” Frigga coached him, setting her needlework on her lap to look at him consolingly. “What troubles you?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Loki scoffed. Frigga’s gaze turned scolding before she resumed her needlework.

“I ask because I care.” she murmured, lancing Loki with guilt. He sighed, moving to sit beside her and letting his head fall back against the wall in exasperation.

“I am going out of my mind with worry,” he confessed. “I know nothing about her! What if-”

“Darling, you will exhaust yourself with that line of thinking,” Frigga said gently. “What is it exactly that worries you so?”

“What if she despises me like everyone else?” Loki hated how small he sounded, like a child whining to his mother. It was a valid fear, one he hid deep inside himself.

“Nonsense. She will love you.” Frigga abandoned her needlework to brush an errant hair from his face, the love in her gaze searing him as always.

“You know this for a fact?”

“A mother always knows.” Frigga said simply, her sly smile making Loki think she knew more than she let on.

“What did you see?” he asked. He did not fully understand his mother's gift, but he knew enough to trust it. “Mother, please tell me something!”

“You know I cannot!” Frigga argued. “To do so would risk everything, and I’ll not risk your future happiness.”

“Happiness?” Loki couldn’t help but scoff. “That could mean anything.”

“Precisely. Anything is possible, ” Frigga smiled warmly at him. “Now, are you prepared to meet your betrothed?”

As ready as he was to see Thanos again.

“How do I look?” Loki asked nervously.

“Very handsome,” Frigga tugged at a panel on his chest, adjusting it ever so slightly. “Remember to be courteous. This is a big adjustment for both of you, but more so for her. She will likely be overwhelmed. She has left behind everything- for you.”

“I did not ask- yes, mother,” Loki grimaced as Frigga continued to fuss over him. “I will remember.”

~~~~

Claire felt ill, and she blamed it entirely on that awful mode of transportation. The bifrost was breathtaking in beauty, but traveling inside it was like being sucked into a powerful vacuum. Everyone in the small party from Earth was disoriented and looking a little green around the gills as they reoriented themselves. Njord, of course, looked perfectly at ease, and Claire hated him a bit more for it. The smug man had been all too eager to whisk away from her home, watching on impatiently as she’d said goodbyes to the few people who’d come to see her off. Phil had traveled with her, of course.

“Welcome to Asgard.” A rich, velvety voice boomed from beside them, and Claire looked up to see a tall, broad shouldered man in golden armor. He pulled a massive broadsword from its resting place in the center of the floor, resting his hands atop it as he regarded them coolly. If Claire’s book was right, she was looking at Heimdall, the ever-watchful guardian of Asgard.

“Lady Claire, this is Heimdall. He is the keeper of bifrost and a faithful guardian of Asgard,” Njord explained. “Heimdall, this is Lady Claire. His Majesty Prince Loki’s intended.”

“My lady,” Heimdall gave her a respectful bow. “I hope you feel welcome in your new home.”

“Thank you. Nice to meet you.” Claire nodded respectfully as Njord complained that they should hurry.

“And you, young mortal.”

As Njord led Claire and Phil from the golden dome that housed the bifrost, they were awestruck by the sight in front of them.

The rainbow bridge stretched on ahead of them- for miles it seemed- with endless ocean on either side. Pristine beaches were visible in the distance, beyond were fields of such rich green Claire was reminded of Ireland. Tiny specks of farmland were visible past the open fields, crosshatching lines of crops jutting up toward the sky.

But beyond that-

“Holy shit.” Claire muttered what they were all thinking.

The golden (literally gold, if Njord wasn’t kidding) palace stood tall and gleaming above everything around it. It was behemoth, a grand sprawling beast that shone like a diamond in the early morning sun.

“That will be your new home, Lady Claire.” Njord said proudly as she gawked at it open-mouthed. His judgmental gaze dropped to her gaping jaw and Claire shut her mouth lest he comment on her teeth. “Is it not most impressive?”

“It’s something, alright,” Claire replied. “It’s very different from what I’m used to.”

“Yes, well,” Njord sniffed. “Some things can’t be helped,” He shrugged when Claire glared at him. “Come along.” He urged the two of them along the bifrost, leaving the golden dome and Heimdall behind. They walked in awed silence, Claire and Phil occasionally pointed objects of interest.

The sun had already risen yet the moon still hung in the sky, bright and full behind the mountains in the distance.

They spotted buildings built into the mountainside shaped like temples, libraries and universities. It seemed like there was something to see everywhere they looked.

They passed through a golden gatehouse close to shore, and two guards joined their small group to escort them through the city to the palace. Beyond the gatehouse, they passed through the fields and farmland they had seen from the bifrost dome. Eventually, the rural landscape began to bleed into small town-esque land, populated with homesteads here and there, but the landscape changed again shortly after, the houses growing more in number and closer together as they approached the city.

“The city surrounding the palace is divided into sections. There is some farmland near the shore, which we’ve just passed through. The areas surrounding the palace are more densely populated.” Njord said in a bored tone as they passed into the city itself.

Here, the streets bustled with activity. Overlapping shouts from merchants interspersed with guards calling to each other as they patrolled, the occasional bleat from livestock, all over a low hum of people chattering. Though it was early morning, people milled about shopping, working, shouting and laughing as they went about their day. The buildings on this street were clustered together like gossiping women, the streets paved with cobble stones. It was quaint and charming, and Claire wanted to stop and inspect the colorful stalls but Njord urged them on.

Claire would have liked to slip by unnoticed, but the guards and probably the obvious non-Asgardian clothes that Phil and Claire wore made them stick out. It didn’t help that the crowd parted as they walked; people stopping what they were doing to gawk at them. One little girl watched Claire with wide eyes, her round face lighting up with glee when Claire waved at her. Further ahead, one child ran into the street, a dark haired woman pulling him back into the crowd by his little arm.

“Do not engage with them,” Njord instructed from behind Claire. “They are beneath you now.”

“They are not-”

“Yes, they are,” Njord said sharply. “You are to be a princess. The first princess of Asgard in a millennia. They will be fascinated; that is natural. But you cannot indulge them.”

“I hardly think waving-”

“That is my point, Lady Claire, you do not think. You are not here to think.”

Njord was two syllables away from getting stabbed. Claire remained silent as they continued walking, her curiosity getting the better of her as the streets began to change. The streets leading toward the palace remained well-kept and attractive, but others leading deeper into the city grew dark with shadow despite the sun fully beating down. Claire paused at the mouth of one of the streets, looking down the long lane with curiosity. She could see dark shapes sitting in doorways, debris floating along the grimy cobblestones.

“What’s down there?”

“Those are the slums, Lady Claire,” Njord’s lip curled with disgust as he spared the street a cursory glance. “You’ll do well to stay away from that area.”

“Yes, it would be terrible if I got some poor on my fancy new clothes.” Claire snapped. Njord narrowed his eyes, reaching out to pull her along. Claire pulled away from his grasp, following behind stubbornly when he began walking toward the palace again.

“ Speaking of clothing,” Njord said in a clipped tone. “Once we reach the palace, you will have an opportunity to change out of...whatever this is.” he gestured toward her.

“No thank you,” Claire replied. “I will change when I want to, not when you tell me to.”

“Do you not wish to make a good impression upon your new family?” Njord asked. “Although I suppose it is better they see you as you are, so that your transformation will be all the more impressive.”

“I think it would be better if you stopped talking,” Claire growled. “You’ve made it clear you don’t like me, and I don’t like you either, so let’s just get where I need to be and then we don’t have to speak to each other again.” One of the guards escorting them coughed, his cheeks growing red beneath his helmet. Njord glared at the man with fire in his eyes, and the guard sucked in his cheeks as his companion cleared his throat.

“That is a most excellent idea, Lady Claire,” Njord huffed, ignoring the guards trying to contain their laughter. “It is not much further. Come along.”

The golden palace loomed larger than ever now. The noise of the marketplace had begun to fade. In front of them, the cobblestones stopped, the path turning smooth as the streets of the city continued on to the left and right. Njord continued onto the smooth path, leading them to another gate. As they approached, the gate opened, letting them see the ornate gilded doors beyond. Njord led their small party through the gate, the guards flanking the gate bowing respectfully as they passed.

The gilded doors opened before they reached it, revealing another pair of guards and an older woman awaiting them.

“Welcome to Valaskjalf,” the woman greeted them with a curtsy. “Please, allow us to take your things.” two men stepped forward to take Claire’s and Phil’s luggage, whisking it away without a backwards glance.

“Lady Claire, Son of Coul, this is the head housekeeper of Valaskjalf. She oversees everything within these halls.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Claire.” the woman curtsied again.

“Nice to meet you.” Claire replied, smiling awkwardly.

“Your rooms are already prepared for your arrival, and I shall be glad to direct you there myself,” the woman said. “Of course you will each have a staff assigned to you, but should either of you require anything, please do not hesitate to send for me.”

“Oh, thank you- wait, staff?” Claire asked in confusion.

“Yes, of course,” Njord replied with a bitter laugh. “You must forgive Lady Claire, she is not used to such finery. But of course, she is expected in the throne room and cannot see her chambers yet.”

“Surely the lady wishes to change?” the woman looked at Claire questioningly.

“The lady has already decreed she did not wish to,” Njord replied. “Isn’t that correct, Lady Claire?” he preened in satisfaction. Claire wanted to punch his teeth in.

“Yep.” Claire said through gritted teeth, smiling reassuringly at the housekeeper.

“As you wish, Lady Claire. I will be happy to direct you to your chambers when you are ready.”

“Thank you,” Claire replied, shooting a dark look at Njord. “Shall we?”

“But of course,” Njord nodded. “This way please.” He led them deeper into the palace, down long winding halls with cavernous painted ceilings and lit torches. Claire felt almost as though she’d stepped back in time. The city outside looked like the animation of Beauty and the Beast come to life, and the palace ceilings made her think of the Sistine Chapel.

There were no windows in these halls, the only light coming from the flickering torches. Claire could see daylight up ahead, so she kept walking and tried not to think about Game of Thrones. The dark hallway finally ended, spitting them out in an open-air passageway lined with columns. Beyond the columns Claire could see a sprawling garden, filled with tall flowers swaying in the delicious breeze. She could hear the sound of moving water from somewhere in the garden, and Claire inexplicably felt at peace. Her nerves dissipated as she followed after Njord, his figure turning a sharp corner before two massive golden doors came into view. Torches and guards flanked the doors, their armor glinting in the flickering light from the torches. Identical hallways branched to either side and Claire wondered where she would end up if she followed them. As the trio approached the guards opened the golden doors to allow them entry, and Claire stepped into the fanciest room she’d ever seen in her life.

Everything was gold. The marble pillars gleamed in the natural light coming from the high windows lining the walls. At the far end of the room, an old man with frizzled white hair sat upon a throne, with a middle-aged looking woman in a blue dress standing to the side, waiting for them.

“Soooo, how are you feeling?” Phil asked as the doors to the throne room closed behind them. Claire had been tense before they arrived in Asgard, but the altercation with Njord was close to putting her over the edge.

“Honestly?” Claire asked as Njord began his over-the-top introduction. “Decidedly unhappy. With Njord, with the whole situation in general. Really; arranged marriage? That’s the best way to form an alliance nowadays?” she scoffed.

“You agreed to it.” Phil deadpanned as Njord was dismissed. Claire locked eyes with the emissary, glaring at him as he shuffled back toward them. He passed them on his way out and Claire turned back to Phil.

“I’m claiming temporary insanity on that one,” she said bitterly. “You know how I feel about marriage in general, but arranged marriage?! It’s like a social experiment gone wrong.” Let’s watch as we force two strangers to cohabitate and fuck and hope they don’t kill each other!

“I’m not thrilled either, if it’s of any consolation.” A voice beside her said. Claire whipped around to see a dark haired man standing beside her dressed in leather armor accented with splashes of dark green and gold. His inky black hair fell to his shoulders and his emerald eyes glittered; a striking contrast to his pale skin. Despite having never met him, Claire recognized the dark prince of Asgard immediately. Damn, he’s tall.

“Silence!” Odin said before Claire could speak to the newcomer. “Lady Claire, this is my son Loki,” the man beside her snorted derisively. Odin spared him a withering stare before looking back at Claire, forcing her to stop staring at Loki. “In four weeks’ time, he will be your husband and you will become a member of the royal family. When the time comes, you will be granted a golden apple from Idunn’s orchard to ensure the endurance of our treaty with Midgard.”

“Right,” Claire said quietly. “What about visits? I have friends, family. I can’t just leave them behind.”

“You may visit Midgard once per year.” Odin permitted. Claire scoffed in disbelief.

“Once a year?!” she balked. “That’s not enough time! We don’t live forever!”

“Enough!” Odin said loudly, holding up a hand to stop her. “My decision is final.”

“Fantastic,” she quipped sarcastically. She turned her gaze to Loki as Odin started speaking again. “So…how are you feeling about all of this?” she asked. Loki’s green eyes settled on her and Claire knew he was sizing her up just like she was doing to him.

She had not yet changed out of her Midgardian clothing, dressed in smart black pants, a purple under shirt and a sleek leather jacket. She wore dark spectacles pushed up into her dark hair which she wore in a loose braid. This was the woman Midgard offered to him? She did not look like a woman of standing.

“Abysmal. Odin would have me tamed, like a beast condemned to a life in chains. My surroundings may have changed but nonetheless in shackles I remain.”

“Well you did try to take over my planet.” Claire snapped.

“Do you truly wish to discuss this now?” Loki asked heatedly. “I had my reasons, mortal, not that you would understand them.”

“Try me.” Claire returned hotly, glaring up at him. A sparkle on her face caught his attention, and Loki looked closer to see she wore a purple hoop through one of her nostrils.

How odd.

“If you’re quite finished,” Odin interrupted their spat by banging Gungnir on the golden floor. The woman to his side gave Claire a small, tight-lipped smile of what she hoped was encouragement. “There is much to be done. Son of Coul, you may retire to the chambers we have provided you,” he said as a servant appeared beside Phil to lead him to his room. “Lady Claire will accompany the queen to begin preparations-”

“Is that your mother?” Claire asked Loki quietly as Odin droned on. She could practically feel his annoyance before he answered her.

“Queen Frigga.” Loki answered shortly.

“And you’re close?” Claire asked, looking up at Loki. “I hear things.” She explained when he raised a brow at her. She wore diamond studs in her ears as well. Was this typical of Midgard?

“From that oaf Thor, I’m sure. He knows me so well.” Loki said sarcastically.

“About as well as one brother can know another, I suppose. We’re friends.” Claire shrugged. She decided to ignore the feral grimace Loki made at the mention of his brother. “So what made you say yes?” she asked.

“Pleasure to meet you too, darling.” Loki laughed sardonically.

“Hey, it’s nothing personal. I think marriage is dumb and people who willingly enter it are even dumber, but I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time, I guess.”

“I wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter,” Loki said derisively. “Marriage or incarceration. I’m simply trading one cell for another.”

“Felt that.” Claire grimaced.

“What?” Loki asked, looking down at the mortal with confusion.

“Nothing,” Claire said instead of explaining. “You haven’t answered my question.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“I agree marriage is foolish and I’ve never spared it much thought, but as part of the royal family I’ve always been expected to wed. Yet despite my title and status as one of the most eligible bachelors in Asgard, no family will have me.”

“I wonder why.” Claire answered dryly, shrugging when Loki glared at her sharply. “I’m just saying, the whole killing-80-people-in-two-days thing would put off most people.”

“But not you,” Loki murmured thoughtfully. “How odd. Are there not many options for suitors on Midgard these days?” He found it rather difficult to believe an attractive woman such as her had failed to secure a match until now. She was annoying, but from what he’d seen of her walk through the city she seemed charming enough. Surely some weak Midgardian man would appreciate that. Would that he had; if only to spare Loki having to deal with her for the rest of his long life.

“I’m not most people,” Claire replied. “And that’s rude. I happen to have high standards,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Loki spied silver rings on her fingers, as well as…claws? “And most people are weirded out by my fascination with serial killers.”

“What?” Loki scoffed, tearing his gaze from the black polish on her claws. “I’m not-”

“80 people in two days,” Claire repeated. “Try again, sugar plum.”

“Don’t call me that,” Loki hissed. “Besides, it’s not as if I killed them all personally. They were simply-”

“Collateral damage?” Claire guessed. “You made a pretty big mess for someone who wanted to lose.” She raised a slim brow at him in challenge, rankling Loki further.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” he said tersely.

“You think I haven’t done any digging? I was there, but I also know several of the Avengers personally. I wasn’t about to show up to the party without doing my homework; I’m not an idiot.”

“Clearly you are since you’ve agreed to marry me,” Loki hissed. “I’ve had enough of this inane conversation. You have duties to attend to, as do I.”

“Look, aside from completely upheaving my life, I’m still seventy percent optimistic that we’ll figure this shit out.”

“Figure what out?” Loki asked impatiently.

“I know, I know, I’m just a measly little human, but we actually have a lot in common. Daddy issues, mommy issues…” Claire trailed off when Loki growled beside her. She could practically feel the anger radiating off him, but continued to push him anyway. She was curious how far she could push his buttons before he stopped with the sexy growling and attacked her. “Plus you’re really hot.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki balked, looking back at her to see her eyeing him up and down hungrily. “Excuse me.”

“What?” Claire gave an unrepentant grin. “I said what I said.”

“Is that why you agreed to this?” Loki asked. “Because you find me desirable?”

“It didn’t hurt,” Claire smirked. “Look, I like Thor. He’s nice. But I have zero interest in fucking nice.”

“But you do have an interest in fucking me?” Loki asked conspiratorially as Frigga approached to collect Claire.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Claire winked at him, her wicked mouth forming a devilish smile. The white of her teeth against the burnt umber of her lip paint made her appear almost predatory. “Later.”

Loki was left staring after her in awe. She was quite surprising, this mortal. She did not flinch from him, but instead challenged him head on. And she desired him. Openly.

Perhaps this venture would not be a total loss after all.

He turned to leave the throne room, only to be confronted by the steely glare of Phil. He returned the glare coolly.

“Pleasure to see you again, Son of Coul.” He said calmly.

“Save it,” Phil snapped. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how angry I am about Claire having to marry you. But seeing as I can’t do a damn thing about it…” Phil clenched his jaw angrily. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Loki chuckled lightly. “Don’t fret, Son of Coul, I have no intention of laying a hand on your precious niece. Marry her I must, but Odin has made quite clear the consequence should anything happen to her.”

“Oh, I can sleep peacefully now,” Phil replied sarcastically. “But just to be clear; she is protected.”

“I am capable of reading, Son of Coul. The treaty is quite explicit that her well-being is tantamount to my freedom and my life. I would be a fool to risk that,” Loki grinned as a guard approached to escort Phil to his chambers. “I do hope you find your chambers comfortable.” he added as Phil was led away to his guest rooms.

~~~~

“I am so pleased to meet you, Lady Claire,” Queen Frigga said excitedly as she led Claire out of the throne room. “It will be grand to have another lady in our family.”

“I’m sure dealing with three boys is a challenge,” Claire said diplomatically. “I’ve seen Thor eat, I can’t imagine what he was like during his growth spurts.”

“Oh Norns, the stories I could tell,” Frigga laughed politely. “But there is plenty of time for that! For now, let us show you to your chambers and you may change for supper.” the housekeeper Claire met earlier appeared at Frigga’s side, seemingly out of thin air.

“What should I change into? I didn’t really know what to pack.”

“Not to worry, dear. I’ve had several dresses made in anticipation of your arrival,” Frigga smiled warmly. “They will of course need alterations to fit you perfectly, but there is time for that.”

“Oh. Cool,” Claire said dumbly as she followed the women down the winding halls. Claire was not a dress wearer. “Earlier, you said something about a staff?” she asked the housekeeper.

“Yes, my lady,” the woman nodded. “I have assembled a team of my best. They are waiting to meet you and are eager to serve.”

“As is customary, you shall have a guard posted at your door for protection, two ladies to assist with dressing and styling your hair, a chambermaid to tidy your rooms and a personal servant to assist you with bathing, dressing, and anything else you should require.” Frigga explained.

“Bathing?” Claire balked. “I can- I mean, I don’t want to seem ungrateful but that really isn’t necessary. I can bathe myself.”

“It is your preference of course,” the housekeeper replied as they began to climb a set of stairs. “Your staff will do anything and everything you require, you merely need ask.”

“You are fully within your right to dismiss any member of your staff should they displease you,” Frigga added. “Should you dismiss them, they will be replaced quickly and with little disruption. Your personal servant will oversee everything and handle matters such as your correspondence and setting appointments. Should you travel, they will travel with you.” Frigga said as they reached the top of the stairs.

“How often will I meet with Loki?” Claire asked. Frigga and the housekeeper led her away from the landing and down a hallway.

“Many times, dear,” Frigga said gently. “There are official functions you will attend together prior to the wedding, but I remember well how it felt to arrive in a strange land to marry a strange man. I have already made arrangements for the two of you to become acquainted in the coming weeks.”

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you,” Claire smiled. She liked Frigga already. There was a calming air about her, and Frigga seemed kind and caring. “I take it you and Odin-”

“Oh yes,” Frigga chuckled. “We were betrothed for many, many years before I made the journey here to Asgard, but we did not meet until I arrived at the altar.”

“Yikes,” Claire cringed. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was terrifying,” Frigga giggled, a fond look stealing over her face as they turned a corner. “I was shaking so horribly, I thought I might collapse! But I survived, and I have a wonderful marriage to show for it.”

“That’s...great.” Claire replied, slowing as she spied a line of people standing against the wall outside of a set of double doors.

“Here we are,” Frigga said jovially. “Your staff has prepared everything for you.” In unison, the five people outside the doors moved to pay their respects. The guard bowed at the waist, his armor clinking as he moved. The women curtsied, delicately and perfectly.

“May I present your ladies: Helga, Koza, Kari, and your personal servant Ragna.” As her name was spoken, each of the women bowed their heads in respect to Claire. Claire had seen many odd things in her line of work, but she had never before met a person with pink skin.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Claire smiled. “I’m sure we will get along wonderfully.”

“That’s the spirit,” Frigga’s hand settled on Claire’s shoulder. “Come, come, let’s get you settled. Fetch the seamstress at once.” Frigga said as the door was opened. She allowed Claire to step inside first, following shortly after.

The door opened onto a spacious and lush living room. A fireplace crackled at one end of the room, a gilded mirror hanging above it. Built in shelving flanked the fireplace, tastefully decorated with items Claire was sure cost a fortune. A large white couch took up much of the wall beside the door, but what drew Claire’s attention were the tall windows lining the opposite wall. Floor to ceiling window panes bathed the room in buttery sunlight, the delicate lace of the curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze. A dining table sat against the wall opposite the fireplace, with an open door beside it. Claire followed the door, stepping into a bedroom with a sprawling bed and a desk. A room divider stood sentry in the corner beside another crackling fireplace. The bedroom led to a bathroom with a sunken stone tub and a beautiful vanity.

“Are you pleased?” Frigga asked hopefully as Claire returned to the bedroom.

“It’s beautiful,” Claire smiled. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

“This shall be where you stay until you marry. You may decorate any way you wish. Once you are wed, you will move to Loki’s chambers in the East wing.”

“Your Majesty?” one of Claire’s new staff stepped into the doorway. “The seamstress is here.” Frigga clapped her hands excitedly, eager to introduce her new daughter to the fine dresses she’d had made for her.

“Wonderful, show her in!”

~~~~

Several hours later, after Claire had been undressed, measured, dressed, pinned, then undressed again, it was mercifully time for dinner. Claire was annoyed beyond measure (ha) at having been subjected to feminine torture. She had never enjoyed wearing dresses and now it was all she was allowed to wear. She had tried to be excited- after all, the fabrics were sumptuous- but trying on dresses had never been her idea of fun.

To make matters worse, she’d already disappointed her future mother-in-law. Frigga was obviously excited to have her and Claire wanted to share her excitement, but being told she wasn’t allowed to wear pants was crossing the line.

So now she was at a massive feast- the pink skinned woman from earlier had shown her the way (Kira? Ragna?)- attempting to drown her sorrows in fantastic wine while people stared at her from their tables. Whether they didn’t approach out of fear, respect or maybe Frigga had asked them not to bother her; Claire didn’t care what the reason, she was just grateful.

She was not, however, grateful for the person sitting to her left.

“Are you attempting to drown yourself or make this event a better one?” Loki asked from beside her. “I believe that is your fourth.”

“Ha ha,” Claire replied flatly. “Look at you; able to count to four.”

“If you find that remarkable, you would overwhelmed by my ability to count beyond one hundred.”

Claire had been subject to such stimulating conversation since dinner began. She and Phil had already spent several minutes gushing about their new digs when Loki arrived like a storm cloud. Claire knew before she arrived that it would be a while before they got a feel for each other. Right now they were like two liquids trying to reach equilibrium, and all through the courses- a tiny salad with red and purple leaves and vinegar-y dressing, a spicy squash soup, and succulent roast lamb and fish, seared vegetables and broiled potatoes- they had been trading sarcastic barbs like merchants traded coins.

“Is there a reason you’re showing off your ability to imbibe?” Loki asked. “Are you unhappy with your chambers? Your new wardrobe perhaps?”

“Nope, this wine is just really good,” Claire said as she drained her goblet for the fourth time. “I think my cup is broken.”

“I am surprised it is intact, actually,” Loki remarked coolly. “I half expected you to smash it on the ground just as Thor would.”

“I can do that?” Claire asked excitedly. “I wanna smash stuff- hey!” she protested when Phil pulled the cup from her hand.

“No smashing,” he chastised. “This is our first night here, we need to make a good impression.”

“Yes mom,” Claire sneered. “Can I have my cup back?”

“Are you going to smash it?” Phil asked.

“No, I need it to keep drinking.”

“Perhaps you should stop,” Loki advised from her left. “Otherwise you’ll have a terrible case of veisalgia.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Claire replied, like a mature adult. “If I want to get blackout drunk, I will.”

“I am only offering advice, darling, you do not have to take it.”

“Aw thanks, sugar plum ,” Claire simpered, grinning unrepentantly when Loki glared at her. “So what is veisa- what did you call it?” she giggled. She was starting to feel the wine. Had the torches always been swirly? Oh, that lamb was sitting in her stomach like a stone. “Is that like a hangover?”

“Yes,” Loki huffed. “You are rather annoying, were you aware of that?”

“You’re annoying,” Claire scoffed. “So’s your-” a loud hiccup escaped her, to which Loki rolled his eyes. “Your face.”

“My face?” Loki balked. “What is wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Claire grumbled, scooting down in her seat to sulk like a child. “That’s why it’s annoying.”

Loki didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. Either way, this was shaping up to be a most amusing meal. Claire had clearly over-served herself and it was catching up to her.

“Do you always over-indulge?”

“Everybody has vices, sugar plum. Some of us drink really good wine, and some of us try to take over planets.” Claire giggled like she had told a hilarious joke, but Loki’s jaw flexed as rage boiled beneath his skin.

“You think to mock me?” he asked lowly, shifting in his seat to lean into her personal space. With her so low in her seat, he loomed over her. “You know nothing .” he snarled.

Something sparked in her blue eyes, and for a moment Loki thought he’d frightened her, but before he could feel the thrill of satisfaction, she grinned up at him.

“Talk more,” she pleaded. “You’re really sexy when you get all growly like that.” Loki made a noise of disgust before he shot to his feet, grabbing her empty goblet and smashing it on the stone floor.

“Another!” he shouted, leaving the great hall and his drunken future wife behind. She could drink herself into a stupor for all he cared.

[sayingyournames]

I have a question about Sirius in You Wouldn’t Like Me. I know that they’re genderfluid, but I do wonder why he is so fixated on presenting in a very feminine way but has mentioned multiple times that he never identifies as a girl, and their trans identity is really at the forefront of the fic. I just am confused by it.

hello anon! i am going to answer this in good faith, because it sounds like you’re just curious and i don’t mind to delve a little deeper into sirius’s mindset for u xx

so, first of all - trans people can look like anything! anybody of any gender can be feminine, or masculine - or neither, or both. sirius presenting in a mostly feminine way and not wanting surgeries doesn’t make them any less trans. you do not need to take hrt or change anything about your physical appearance to be trans. okay? cool.

for sirius in this fic specifically? ‘womanhood’ was something he was forced into. it was never on his terms, it was always just to fit the mold that their parents wanted. he never got to have any kind of ‘normal’ or nurturing childhood, didn’t get to explore the kind of clothing they wanted. so yeah, he spent most of his teen years pushing back on anything ‘girly’ bc it just. it hurt to much to get close to.

but like. once he gets moved out and settled and on hrt and his body starts to take a shape that they can actually look at in the mirror? it opens up so many possibilities. wearing dresses feels right with broad shoulders and dark hair on his belly and legs and armpits. having tits looks good when his chest hair starts coming in. listening to pop music and getting piercings and painting their nails? it all turns into something that he can do because he wants to, bc it’s on their terms.

and besides that, he realizes there are no fucking rules anymore. there’s no one to tell them ‘no’ or to yell and scream and trade his black velvet for pastel florals.

Wife talks about this a lot, actually, bc she’s a trans woman and she’s a butch. when we met, and allll the way back to when she first came out, she was very femme bc it felt like the only thing she could do to overcompensate for how - wrong - her body felt. but as a kid she was a tomboy, and wanted to grow up to look like corky from bound. it wasn’t until she was on hrt for about a year that she finally felt comfortable in her butch identity. this is not how it happens for everyone - there is no wrong way to be trans - but this is the kind of thing i have experience with, so.

and i’m genderfluid, genderless - but my aesthetic leans very femme. so i project a lot of that onto sirius. anyway.

idk if this clears things up for you, or if it’s just me rambling about my gender thoughts, but.

[friendly-books]

Side Jobs live blog

Side Jobs

A restoration of faith 

“The kid lifted up her Oxford shoes and mule-kicked her leg back in my shin.” pg. 2 Ha I love this kid already 

“I’m up on North Avenue, and it’s after dark. I’m not leaving a nine-year-old girl out here by  herself.” pg. 3 That’s a good way for the kid to be ACTUALLY KIDNAPPED 

“What happened to your car?”

“Broke down this afternoon.” pg. 4 The Blue Beetle mention!

“It belongs on the set of El Dorando,” she snapped” pg. 5 Ha 

“Sucker,” she called back, her voice merry.” pg. 7 Ha I love this kid so much spunk 

Oh no a troll

Poor kid with neglectful parents 

“A ten-year-old girl’s world should be full of music and giggling and notes and dolls and dreams-not harsh, barren, jaded reality.” pg. 13 Did Maggie have this? Before the Red Court Did Harry have this before his dad died? 

“Her eyes were bright with excitement. “That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. I want to be a wizard when I grow up.” pg. 22 Ha

“Hey thanks a lot of help, Officer”-I squinted down at her badge “Murphy.” pg. 22 Murphy! Holy cow Murphy attacks a troll. So cool

Vignette 

“I have nightmares about Hell, where all I do is add up numbers and try to have conversations with people like you.” pg. 28 Ha 

“Yeah. Advertising is all about lying” pg. 29 Ha and Bob’s not wrong

“You suck at lying, Harry. You really do.” pg. 29 Ha and yeah Harry isn’t great at lying 

“Why do you do it?

I squinted up at the skull. “Because someone has to” pg. 30 Yep

Something Borrowed 

“Oh for crying out loud, Dresden.” Billy said, his tone amused. “He’s just fitting the tux” pg. 32 Ha 

Poor Kirby 

“For one thing, this” she said, flicking a hand at me. Then she gave me a second, more evaluating look” pg. 37 Rude

“Billy put his face in his hands” pg. 39 Ha

“Once my mouth was open and my lips stared moving, it was pretty much inevitable.” pg. 40 Ha

“Don’t get paranoid Harry” pg. 42 Given Harry’s life I feel like he should be more paranoid 

Oh no the apartment 

Oh dear Bob and Murphy meet 

Oh no Faeries 

“A faerie has taken her place” pg. 49 Oh no

“THE WORST THING about being a wizard is all the presumption; people’s expectations.” pg. 51 That’s the worst thing?!? Really? 

“I keep meaning to go back and fix that, but there’s never time

I had a marriage like that” pg. 52 Ha and which one?

“That’s why you have to be careful what you choose to Look at. I don’t like doing it, ever. You never know what it is you’ll See.” pg. 58 Harry knows that well

“I let out a battle cry. Sure, a lot of people might have mistaken it for a sudden yelp of unmanly fear, but trust me: It was a battle cry” pg. 59 Ha 

The trust Murphy has to run into the fire

The pure force bridge is cool

Good thinking with the sprinklers 

“Jenny Greenteeth would kill Murphy too” pg. 81 Oh no wait why am I oh no-ing I know Murph is going to be fine 

“The next thing I knew, I was smashing my blasting rod down into Jenny Greenteeth, screaming incoherently and pounding as hard as I could.” pg. 82 Protective Harry 

“For one second, for one teeny tiny instant, I felt her mouth move. I felt her head tilt, her lips soften, and my oh-so-professional CPR-just for a second, mind you-felt almost, almost like a kiss.” pg. 84 No that’s not how CPR works 

It’s my birthday too

“I mean, you didn’t get my dad one, and you’re friends with him” pg. 91 Harry get your friends birthday gifts 

“I’ve seen you two fight.” She lifted both pale eyebrows. “What? Have you seen how many brother and sisters I have? I know my siblings conflicts?” pg. 91 Ha

Oh no Thomas is in trouble no wait nevermind 

I can’t tell if Harry would like LARP 

“If you weren’t my brother, I’d probably tell you that you have some awfully nerdy hobbies” pg. 104 Ha and pot meet kettle 

Oh no Molly 

“The streetlights just went out” pg. 110 Oh no 

“And then it went dead, along with the lights, the music playing on the speakers, and the constant blowing sigh of the heating system.” pg. 111 Oh no

Oh no Black Court 

I love the Cobbs 

Cool gravity spell

Nice job with the garlic 

“First, anytime I’m not shooting my mouth off to a cliched, two-bit creature of the night like you, it’s because I’m up to something.” pg. 145 Ha

“Right after my dad died, they put me in an orphanage. It was Christmas time. On the television, they had a commercials for Rock’em Sock’em Robots. Two kids playing with them, you know? Two brothers” I shrugged. “That was a year when I really, really wanted to give those stupid plastic robots to my brother.”

“Because it would mean weren’t alone.” Thomas said quietly 

“Yeah” I said “Sorry I forgot them. And happy birthday.” 

He glanced back at the burning mall.

“Well,” my brother said, “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.” pg. 148 Aw my heart 

Heorot 

Gard and Harry bonding moments let’s go!

“Just basking in the glow of your compassion, Officer.” pg. 154 Ha 

Caine is terrible 

“I glowered at him. I’m not sure I could take it if my dog was smarter than me.” pg. 164 Ha

Caine starts a fight let’s see who wins 

It’s just beer Caine needs to chill 

“Marcone is behind this? That son of a bitch is going to be sorry he ever looked at that-“ 

pg. 169 Harry you should know Marcone better than that. 

Also Marcone mention!

“Me and polite have never been on close term.” pg. 179 Ha

“It hunts in the wizard’s territory. The wizard will come to face it. The Erkling will give us great favor when we bring the wizards head.” 

“Gosh. I felt famous” pg. 186 Ha 

“Enough talk” pg. 189 Gard is going into a rage fun 

Gard is a Valkyrie cool

“Then she leaned down and kissed me on the mouth.” pg. 209 Whoa 

Day off

Aw Harry’s playing D&D with the alphas 

“Again with this decision.” Andi sighed “I mean I know he’s the actual wizard and all, but Christ.” pg. 212 Ha

“Sorry about your wraith, there, Darth Wannabe.” pg. 218 Ha

“I’m a-fixin to defend myself” I drawled, Texas-style.” pg. 218 Ha 

“Molly,” I said, trying to be polite, “I can’t stand the sight of you. Go away.” pg. 222 Ha

An explosion happened and Harry didn’t cause it shocking I’m shocked 

Kirby and Andi have fleas ha

“Mister the cat, appeared exactly as he always did” pg. 228 So cool

“Andi. Please don’t tell me that you and Kirby have been getting down while you were fuzzy” pg. 230 Why would they do that?

Molly set the lab on fire she’s taking after Harry 

“At least it couldn’t get any worse.” pg. 233 Harry you know better than to say that 

What a mess Harry shouldn’t take a day off.

Backup

Oh Thomas narrating 

“He’s Gandalf on crack and an IV of Red Bull” pg. 241 Ha 

“He’ll spit in the eye of gods and demons alike if he thinks it needs to be done.” pg. 241 Yeah that’s Harry alright 

“My name is Thomas Raith and I’m a monster” pg. 242 No Thomas you’re not a monster :(

So there’s a secret Oblivion war going on 

Lara people aren’t pets 

The Hunger is terrifying 

Justine!

Oh no Harry’s in trouble

Thomas can do magic!!! 

“He’ll whip out some kind of half-divine, half-insane philosophy cobbled together from the words of saints and comic books about the importance of handling power responsibly.” pg. 258 Yep 

“Harry’s a master of the skill-as in simultaneous doctorates from MIT, Harvard, and Yale and a masters from Oxford.” pg. 258 It’s interesting to see other people’s perspective and opinions on Harry 

“Locks, though, never seemed to pose a much of an obstacle to my brother.” pg. 261 Ha

“Harry had occasionally accused me of being reckless and overconfident-which is, believe me, staggering magnitude.” pg. 267 Ha 

“He’d turned into a neat freak a few years ago, for some reason, though he’d never talked about why.” pg. 269 Ha 

“It’s a little bit creepy, actually. My brother’s got a voodoo doll of the entire town.” pg. 270 Ha

“I think that genuinely speaking, you don’t have secrets from your brother, man.” pg. 272 Yep unless you count the whole I didn’t tell you were brothers for awhile bit. 

“Bob made a whistle sound.

What the hell? How? He doesn’t have lips?” pg. 275 Ha 

The Oblivion War is scary 

Aw Bob is protecting Harry 

“Scratch one ghoul. My brother hates ghouls with a passion so pure it’s almost holy.” pg. 283 Yep it’s we deserved 

“But the bitch had messed with my brother.” pg. 285 Protective Thomas 

Thomas just feed the bad girl to his hunger 

“Sometimes I feel completely unappreciated.”

I found myself smiling 

“Wow” I said “what’s it like?” pg. 291 Ha

The Warrior 

Aw Michael’s a coach 

“I’m pretty sure there won’t ever be a place like that for me.” pg. 297 Aw Harry :( you’ll get a family home soon 

“She had a bruise on her cheek a couple of days old.” pg. 299 Oh no why does the kid have a bruise on her face? 

“Hi” I said, trying to be unthreatening as I could. I had limited success. Tall, severe-looking men in long black coats who need a shave are challenged that way.” pg. 299 Poor Harry

I love Harry interacting with Michael and Charity’s kids 

“Let me poke around and shine a light on things, so we know what’s going on. If it turns out to be nothing, no harm done.”

“And if it isn’t?” Charity asked 

“I kept a surge of quiet anger out of my voice and expression as I looked at her levelly. “No harm gets done to you and yours.” pg. 304 Yes protective Harry 

“It’d take one he-uh, heck of a serious counter measure to stop me from finding it.” pg. 311 Ha 

“I didn’t want to go off and leave…”

You 

“The sword…”

Unprotected 

“Here” I finished” pg. 311 Just your friends you’re worried about them Harry 

I don’t think Chuck should be drunk and working especially if he’s a electrician 

“I’ve been in burning buildings, man, and take it from me, this place…” I looked around at the wooden framework. “Fwoosh. I’m just saying Fwoosh.” pg. 321 Ha and you definitely caused those building fires Harry 

“Harry Dresden. Saving the world, one act of random destruction at a time.” pg. 322 Ha

“I don’t blame myself,” I said.” pg. 324 That’s the biggest bold faced lie I’ve ever seen. 

Yes you do Harry 

Butters! 

Oh someone in the church is behind it. A Fundamentalist maybe? 

“Watching life through the window and obsessed with how things might have been”

“Dear God,” she said. “You’ve just made Dickens relevant to my life.” 

“Weird, right?” pg. 341 Ha 

Oh no Alicia 

“The son of a bitch hurt my little girl.” pg. 352 Holy Cow Michael swore! :0 

Yes Michael vs Douglass 

“Michael,” I said, gently, “you can’t. If this is how it has to be, I’ll do it. But you can’t, man.” pg. 366 Is Harry saying he’s willing to murder so long as Micheal doesn’t 

Uriel’s here 

“Very kind,” he said and took a swig from the flask.” pg. 368 Uriel drinking alcohol 

I love how Uriel tells Harry how all the little things he did helped. 

“I nodded slowly. Then I said, “Let’s talk about my bill”

Jake eyebrows shot up “What?” 

“My bill,” I enunciated. “You dragged me into this mess. You can pay me, same as any other client. Where do I send the invoice?” 

“You’re…you’re trying to bill the Lard Almighty?” Jake said, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Hel-uh, heck no,” I said. “I’m billing you.” 

“That isn’t really how we work” 

“It is if you want to work with me,” I told him, thrusting out my jaw. “Cough up. Otherwise, maybe next time I’ll just stand around whistling when you want me to help you out.”

Jake’s face broadened into a wide, merry grin, and laughter filled his voice. “No, you won’t” he said, and, vanished.” pg. 373 Ha and yes Harry won’t not help people 

Last Call 

Oh no Mac is hurt 

Oh no someone’s messed with Mac’s beer

Caine? Again? What is this guys problem?

Caine is the worst 

Caine attacked Murphy critical fail on Caine’s part 

“You put on a good show act, Harry. It would have fooled a lot of people. It looked…”

“Natural on me,” I said “Yeah” pg. 394 Ouch 

“I tried the door, just for the hell of it and-

It opened 

Well, dammit. I much prefer making a dramatic entrance.” pg. 420 Ha and come on let Harry have his dramatic entrance 

Oh Dionysus cool

“Then she smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed my cheek” pg. 419 Aw 

Love hurts 

“They weren’t a married couple. They were brother and sister.” pg. 423 Ick doesn’t even begin to cover the feeling I felt reading that

Oh no mental magic

“We don’t exactly have orbital satellites for detecting black magic.” pg. 426 They don’t? Then what does Gatekeeper do? I thought that was his job. How did the council find out about Harry, Justin, and Molly? Gatekeeper clearly knew black magic was afoot back in Proven Guilty. 

Oh boy is it awkward between Harry and Luccio 

Evil state fair?

Don’t be mad at Will, Harry he’s concerned about you. 

“She stopped before she could say who Kincaid was like.” pg. 436 Was she going to say Harry? 

“Murph tittered again” pg. 443 Oh no they’ve been caught 

Is it the ride itself? The ride operator? The guy trailing them? 

“I bent my head down to her mouth and kissed her gently.” pg. 445 Yay Harry/Murph moment but now isn’t the time 

“It just isn’t fucked-up enough to really be you and me” pg. 447 Ha I love this is how they realize that they’ve been whammied 

“But hey. On the other hand, he had swindled me out of swindle me out of twenty dollars.” pg. 448 Harry you bribed him 

Oh no Red court vampire 

“He’s completely irrational” pg. 452 Ha

“Mortals are like mayflies, Wizard. They live a brief time, and then they are gone.” pg. 455 Scary how some immortals view humans

I’m glad Harry and Murphy burned the belt. 

Aftermath 

“I cant believe he’s died.” pg. 463 I’m still not over it. 

“I’d been able to learn a few Martian phrases over time” pg. 466 Ha 

“Lake Michigan is jealous and protective of her dead.” pg. 466 Such a good phrase 

Poor Murphy she’s not a cop anymore and now has to deal with Harry dying 

“He always told us if we ever needed him but couldn’t find him, we were supposed to go to you. That you were the person in this city who could help us better than anyone else.” pg. 475 Aw :) 

“Georgia’s pregnant” he whispered. “Seven months.” pg. 475 Yay Georgia’s pregnant nothing bad is going to happen to her or the baby. I refuse to believe it.

“And, if things got hot when we went after the bad guy, he would have been there, throwing fire and lighting around as if they were his own personal toys, created especially and exclusively for him to play with.” pg. 485 I love how other people describe Harry. It shows how Harry is viewed through mortal eyes. Yeah it would appear like Harry like that when he starts setting things on fire with his mind essentially. 

“Watching Dresden operate was usually one of two things: mildly amusing and positively terrifying.” pg. 485 That’s quite a difference 

“Quirky nerd gone. Terrifying icon, present.” pg. 486 I wonder if Harry knows this is how people view him? I wonder if Harry knows this is how Murphy views him. 

“Seeing Dresden in action filled you with the fear that you had just become a casualty of evolution-that you were watching something far larger and infinitely more dangerous than yourself, and that your only chance of survival  was to kill it, immediately, before you were crushed beneath a power greater than you would ever know.” pg. 487 Scary and such a good quote 

“Dresden was gone. His cheesy jokes and his corny sense of humor were gone. His ability to know the unknowable, to fight the unfightable, to find the unfindable, was gone.

The rest of us were just going to have carry on as best we could without him.” pg. 488 Sobbing 

“On the other hand…maybe I just give John Marcone a call and tell him how you’re helping  some of his street-level guys run some deals behind his back.” pg. 498 Marcone mentioned! 

Hendricks!

“I had to go see “Gentleman” John Marcone.” pg. 501 YES! Let’s go Marcone :) 

“He had eyes the color of several-days-old grass clippings.” pg. 509 Interesting with how Murphy describes Marcone’s eyes vs with how Harry describes them 

“Hendricks eyed Gard 

Gard rolled her eyes and withdrew a twenty-dollar bill from her jacket pocket. She passed it to the big man.” pg. 511 Ha

“Don’t confuse yourself with Mr. Dresden, Mr. Borden,” Marcone said, his voice level and cold. His eyes were something frightening, pitiless. “You don’t have the power to threaten  me. The instant you begin to change, Ms. Gard here will fire in Ms. Murphy-and then upon you.” His voice dropped to a barely audible murmur. “The next time you offer me a threat, I will kill you.” pg. 513 Nshslsbshevakbsn I didn’t learn my lesson from last time. I choked on my drink again when I read it. I think I almost hacked up my lung. Ahhh!!! It’s so bi and Harry’s not even there. Will didn’t even threaten Marcone or at least not as much as Harry usually does. And Marcone throws a knife at him. 

“Someone is rounding up those mortals possessed of modest supernatural gifts.”

“Talent search” pg. 516 Oh no

“Someone started picking up on the little guys in town within a few hours of Dresden’s shooting.” pg. 517 Monsters closing in already 

“I’m sorry. About Dresden. He was a brave man.” pg. 518 Glad Gard said that. 

“That was when we had the nightmares.” pg.528  Ah that’s the psych/bad dreams from the end of Changes.

“Dresden hadn’t been muscled as heavily as Will. Harry’d had a runner’s build, all lean, tight, dense muscle that…” pg. 535 Murphy I see that train of thought. Good Harry/Murphy moment and Harry’s not even there. 

“I mean that if Dresden just blew up the Red Court…that means the status quo is gone. There's a power vacuum, and every spook out there is going to try a fill it. The rules have changed. We don’t know how these people are going to react.” pg. 536 Yep things are going to change now. I can’t wait to see the repercussions 

“The man had gills” pg. 552 There’s fish people? What hole in Lake Michigan did these guys crawl out? Why now after Harry’s death? As far as I know there haven’t been any fish people before. 

Such a good fight 

“Dammit, Dresden,” I said into the silence in a choked voice. “Dammit. Here I am doing your job. Dammit, dammit, dammit.” pg. 576 Sobbing some more 

“That’s formor magic,” she said quietly. “One of their lesser sorcerers and his retainers.” pg. 578 Who’s the formor? 

“This is the second time the formor have attempted to move on Chicago-and failed” 578 When was the first time? 

“My boss is always pleased to find those with proper”-she pursed lips-“frame of mind.” pg. 579 Oh Donar Vadderung/Odin is hiring? Well that’s some foreshadowing

“Was she telling the truth, you think? That Marcone’s the one standing in the gap now?” pg. 582 Yes Marcone will help out in for supernatural threats 

“The Justice League of Chicago?” 

“We’ll cover his beat.”

“Until Dresden gets back.”

“It doesn’t seem to be. But…There’s this voice inside me that keeps pointing out that we haven’t seen a body.” pg. 582 Yes can’t wait for the next book. 

Final thoughts 

I love how the story shows Harry at the beginning and how Harry met Murphy. I loved Faith. I love the interaction between Harry and Bob. I loved Billy and Georgia’s wedding. I love that Thomas being Harry’s brother is the worst kept secret. The Cobbs are wonderful. I love the bonding between Thomas and Harry. I love the Gard and Harry bonding on an adventure. No one messes with Mac’s beer. I love that Harry’s D&D character says Gard’s catchphrase. Gard clearly made an impression. I love Harry playing D&D with the alphas. Harry’s day is frankly a comedy of misadventure. I can’t believe Kirby and Andi got fleas. I’m glad Luccio took the scene well. I love how sarcastic Thomas’s narrative is. I can’t believe Thomas has magic. That’s so cool I wonder why he didn’t tell Harry. I love how much Thomas admires Harry and how protective he is of Harry. I love is how much Harry helps people without meaning to. I love that Michael is Alicia's softball coach. I can’t believe Michael swore that’s such a big deal. I can’t believe Harry offered to kill a man so Michael wouldn’t. I love that Uriel tells Harry all the lives he has helped. It’s hilarious that Harry tried to bill Uriel only Harry would try to do that. I love that even Uriel knows Harry won’t stop helping people. Wow Mac gets attacked. Interesting to see other powerful characters from other patrons. So now the Greek and Norse gods are real in this world. I wonder what others? All others? Jim just giving us Harry/Murphy then taking it away. I love how they both realize that we’re hot with the spell. Oh boy still not over Changes. Everyone is in denial about Harry including me. Yay Georgia’s pregnant! I love the different pov and how people view Harry. I love how we got different perspectives on magic and Harry from Thomas and Murphy. I loved all the Marcone stuff all of it. I love how it shows that Marcone views Harry as a worthy opponent. Now the shipper in me thinks this scene is gold. Marcone really does let Harry get away with things that he doesn’t let others like threats and backtalk. I wonder if Marcone would have hurt Will if it was Harry present and not Murphy? And Marcone even warns Harry not to test him back in Death Mask while here he only does so after he’s knifed Will. I love the dichotomy between how Murphy describes Marcone’s eyes as the color of several-days-old grass clippings vs how Harry describes Marcone’s eyes as worn dollar bills. I love how Murphy then describes Marcone’s eyes as something frightening, pitiless. Harry really was a deterrent to the evil side of the Supernatural side and now they’re coming in now that Harry’s gone. I love the Harry/Murphy moments we got in this story. I hope we learn more about the Formor. 

I’ve learned my mistake now. No more eating or drinking while reading the Dresden files. 

Onto Ghost story!

[3-2-whump]

(You don't have to reply to this publicly if you don't want to)

I read your post on adoption trauma and it really hit close to home for me. My adoption experience was a lot different (same race adoption, domestic vs international, bad adoptive parents, etc) but I still feel a lot of the same frustrations.

I can't claim to understand through racial aspect and I don't want to equate my experience to that (that's a whole other level of hurt I can't even imagine), but I think it's important to note that there's another culture that gets lost in adoption: *familial* culture.

I don't know my genealogy. I don't know how my family celebrates holidays. I don't know their little inside jokes and how they show affection and all their favorite things. I don't know my half-siblings but they know me. They know our mother. They know her hugs, her smile, her laugh.

And even though I know *who* my parents are and I could contact them, it still feels like forcing a piece from another puzzle into a completed one. I will never have that relationship with them. Of course, that's my personal experience and I know it's different for others, but that's how it feels for me. That rift is permanent, even if I take the risk of rejection and try to build a bridge.

Anyway, didn't mean to blabber in your inbox. Just had a lot of feelings and thought I might share. Also hi, I have a whump blog as well lol. It's @the-whumpening but most of my stuff has some of your squicks so don't feel obligated to check it out.

Oh yeah, there is definitely a loss of familial culture for both of us. I didn’t highlight it because I thought it was just an implied, a given -but you’re totally right, it is there, and we should address it.

I don’t know my genealogy either, or how my birth family observes holidays like Lunar New Year, Mid Autumn Moon Festival, Qing Ming, and the rest. I don’t know if you care about such things like religion but I don’t even know what mine practiced, or if it’s a faith I would have preferred to grow up in. I know I have a blood sibling; that much is implied through my story, but aside from that, I can only make guesses.

I think it’s cool though that you *know* who your birth parents are -something that will be a miracle for me to find- and I fully respect your decision to not want to contact them, but it must be kinda weird, I imagine, for both of us to imagine a world without our rifts you so accurately mentioned…

Thanks for chiming in! If you want to talk about it more feel free to message me.

[twilightmalachite]

PORTRAIT - Ah, still delay—thou art so ■■■ 5

Author: Akira

Characters: Akiomi, Arashi, Makoto, Izumi

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Besides. My family is normal. A normal, loveless family, just like any other."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Modeling Office

About an hour later…

Akiomi: Hah… Hah… T-They’ve finally calmed down…

Izumi: ……

Akiomi: Or rather… Sena-kun got tired from crying and fell asleep. It’s already late at night—Kids this age should have gone to bed long ago.

Makoto: ……♪

Akiomi: (Ahaha, Yuuki-kun’s even sleeping while he squeezes Sena-kun’s hand tightly. They must really be close. Seeing something like this makes me feel at ease.)

Arashi: …Good job at work today, Akiomi.

Akiomi: Oh! You brewed me some coffee, huh? You’re so considerate, Narukami-kun.

Arashi: All I did was press a button.

Akiomi: Still, I’m happy to have been thought of. Good kid, good kid♪

Arashi: Please don’t pet me. I’ll hit anyone who is unpleasant.

Akiomi: You can’t jump to hitting others. You can get away with things like that since you’re still a child, but for adults like me, you’d get in trouble with the police immediately.

Arashi: Even though Akiomi’s a child, too.

Akiomi: If that’s what you think, then if only everyone else would treat me as they would any other child.

But alas, the others from the other agency didn’t help and instead just watched helplessly from a distance.

Arashi: Because adults are basically all useless.

Akiomi: What happened for you to have so little faith in adults at your age? Poor thing. You must’ve had a rough life, huh, Narukami-kun.

Arashi: I told you to please not pet me.

Besides. My family is normal. A normal, loveless family, just like any other.

Papa and Mama, me and my big brother, we all don’t care about each other.

If we’re talking about having it rough, those guys seem to have it worse. Though I don’t know much.

Akiomi: Right… I had gotten curious, so I asked the president and some others about it earlier…

There's a rumor that Sena-kun’s so-called monster parents had gotten into a full-blown fight with the agency he belongs to, it seems.

Apparently they had complained a lot about how their child was being treated disrespectfully, and the agency lost their temper and told them to just leave if they didn’t like it.

And so Sena-kun was transferred to our agency as a result.

Though I’m sure the president wasn’t too keen on taking in such a landmine, either, but…

Our motto here is that we’ll take in anyone and turn them into a splendid model.

If he had refused the transfer, Sena-kun’s parents probably would’ve spread negative criticism of us all over the place… In fact, just that had apparently inconvenienced his former agency quite a bit.

Arashi: What a seriously horrible family.

Akiomi: Yeah… I try not to speak bad about other people, but…

Wouldn’t you think adults of that age would have shame?

Arashi: Because adults are the worst.

Akiomi: I feel Sena-kun’s parents are a special case, though…

Still, even I think it’s the worst how Sena-kun’s parents don’t seem to consider his own feelings one bit.

I can tell Sena-kun definitely didn’t want to be separated from his beloved friend, Yuuki-kun.

It looks like his parents forced their son to transfer without any thought to his feelings.

Arashi: Hmm. It’s a pity, they seem to be really close.

Izumi & Makoto: ……♪

Akiomi: You can say that again. To tear two good friends apart just because you’re not pleased—It’s just plain cruel.

I bet Sena-kun must’ve really hated it too. That’s why he was crying and lashing out in desperation, as a way to express his disapproval. That’s probably what the huge fuss was over earlier, wasn’t it?

Arashi: If he hates it so much, he should just go back to his old agency.

I don’t wanna work with this guy.

Akiomi: Is that so? He’s fastidious, just like you. You might be able to unexpectedly get along with him, you know!

Arashi: Who is fastidious? Is that an insult? Should I be getting angry?

Akiomi: If you consider it a weakness, it’s a weakness. If you consider it a strength, it’s a strength! Any personality trait can be marketed in our line of work.

It all comes down to how you present it, and how you sell it.

Arashi: ? ? Sounds difficult.

Akiomi: I don’t fully understand it myself. But, recently, an idol I sorta like said something like that in an interview.

His name is Sagami Jin, have you heard of him? He’s around my age, and he’s an idol with so much momentum right now that he could knock flying birds out of the sky…♪

Arashi: Flying… birds? What about a bird?

Akiomi: Ahaha. …But anyways, this’ll cause a bit of trouble.

So if you don’t have any urgent work to do, Narukami-kun, you might wanna stay away from the agency for the time being.

I wouldn’t want you to get dragged up into something troublesome.

Arashi: That’s true. …But, if I don’t come here, then I can’t see Akiomi.

Akiomi: ? Did you say something?

Arashi: …… (Doesn’t say anything and kicks Akiomi in the back)

Akiomi: Ouch!? Seriously, why do you skip to violence so quickly?! What are your parents teaching you!

Arashi: You never told me I couldn’t kick.

Izumi: ……?

(What’re these guys doing… They’re making a racket right next to us, even though people are sleeping.)

(But, it’s nice… It kinda actually feels like something a close-knit family would do.)

(I wish I could’ve been born into a family like that.)

Makoto: Mn… Onii-cha, aaan…♪

Izumi: (If only Yuu-kun could’ve been my little brother for real.)

[ ☆ ]

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[dragonmuse]

See what you did there with the inability to be heard when mentioning Faith... we've yet to see Mainverse Stede receive that knowledge... These waiting rooms have been a delight tonight! Thank you! Has me craving more from each individual 'verse. <3 If your list isn't long enough, yet, I've realized, too, with the recent Feels Like & May Be Bad, that we've not seen Faith discussed/introduced for Feels Like, yet... Or Bottle of Red... This is a slippery slope once you start! XD

(oooh let's do Pete finding out about Faith! I love that Feels like has been this slow growing favorite. A very pleasant counterbalance to I May Be Bad)

Pete had never much minded waiting. He liked to think of himself as a man of action, but he knew deep down that his real strength was in endurance. He could hold steady and firm as long as he needed to and that mattered too. It had done him a great service in securing Izzy’s attention and ultimately, his affections.  Pete had found that very worth waiting for, as Izzy cracked open, spilling a surprisingly generous spirit and willingness every which way. 

So Pete had never pushed about the ring Izzy wore around his neck. It was a pretty little thing, and Pete often watched it when Izzy was on top of him, the way it would catch the light as they swayed together. He knew that Izzy clung to it like a talisman, especially in sleep, but Izzy held him just as tightly, so it was hard to be jealous of it.  

He waited and eventually the right time presented itself. They had both just said goodbye to Lucius, who lingered in the doorway, returning to kiss them both once or twice before departing. It was only the third time they’d had him over and the newness of it was still delicious, but not as nerve-wracking as the first time. Izzy was moving slowly, for him, some of his usual energy bled away to make room for relaxation. 

They were on the couch, half-dressed and the remains of breakfast scattered around them. Izzy was bare-chested and Pete took a moment to appreciate him before saying, 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Why are you asking if you can ask?” Izzy glanced away from his phone to him. 

“Cause I want your attention and also I’m not sure you’ll like the question.” 

The phone lowered, “What?” 

“The ring,” he gestured to his own neck to indicate it. It was currently nestled in bountiful dark chest hair, glittering like a target. “Who’s was it?” 

Izzy touched it absently. “Why are you asking now?” 

“Always wondered. Just figured you might be in a good enough mood to tell me.” 

“Clever.” Izzy’s compliments often sounded like accusations. “Taking advantage?” 

“I don’t get the higher ground very often. Give me this one.” 

“....fine,” Izzy sighed and to Pete’s surprise, came closer, so their shoulders were pressed together. Invited, Pete dropped an arm around his shoulders.  “Her name was Faith.” 

“Faith,” Pete repeated, committing it to memory. 

“She was...she was my girlfriend, I guess. Fiance. Briefly. The ring wasn’t an engagement ring, just a promise, but I intended to make good on it.” 

“Of course you did,” Pete nodded. “You don’t make half-assed promises.” 

“What’s the point of doing it if you’re not going to see it through?”

“Don’t look at me, I’m on your side here. When did you guys meet?” 

“We were fifteen. She picked me out. Wanted someone to make bullies back off and her parents to as a bonus. I was good for that back then. Angry all the time and I had a reputation.” 

“Yeah?” Pete could picture that. Izzy, even smaller than he was now, and pumped full of teenage hormones must’ve been a force to be reckoned with. 

“Yeah. Got called a lot of things, but not many of them to my face, let’s put it that way. Faith liked that. She asked me to take her out. Fuck, she was so clever.” 

“What’d she look like?” 

“Red hair, the kind that’s really orange, not red.  On the small side. Frail. Big blue eyes. I don’t know. She was beautiful to me.” 

Pete was building a picture in his mind, already getting fond of this girl. He knew what it was to pick Izzy out and fix on him for a lot of reasons. 

“Okay, so what? You started going out at fifteen?” 

“Went on dates and everything. Got close. Really close. I ran with some guys back then, but I didn’t have friends. Not really. Bet you did in high school.” 

“Not so much,” Pete admitted. “A few buddies, but...dunno. Didn’t really have a best friend until I met John and that wasn’t until I was past thirty.” 

“Huh,” Izzy glanced at him. “Really?” 

“Yeah, Iz, really.” 

“...huh,” he said again and Pete had to hide a smile against Izzy’s shoulder. 

“I’m only the friendly one compared to you,” he pointed out. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy growled even as he moved in even closer. Pete glanced a kiss off his cheek. 

“Okay, so you and Faith get close. Eventually get engaged.” 

“Yeah, we were together all the time. We were gonna get out, you know? She was...she could’ve gone to a good college. Gotten money even.” 

“....this ends really sad, doesn’t it?” Pete had known that. You didn’t wear someone else’s ring around your neck and cling to it like a lifeline when the person who wore it had just moved to France or something. But this was less abstract now. He could hear the grief, practically taste it in the air. 

“She was only seventeen,” Izzy said miserably. “Where’s the goddamn fairness in that?” 

“There isn’t,” Pete rubbed his arm a little. “I’m sorry.” 

“She’s been gone longer than she was alive. If it had been me instead-” 

“No. That’s a dark road,” Pete dropped his voice, low and soothing. “And now how it went down. You lived. You made it here. Hope it’s not a bad place to be.” 

“It’s good,” Izzy agreed. “Does it...should I not wear it?” 

“Hell no. You wear it until you’re buried with it if you want,” Pete said, squeezing his arm a little. “You loved her. Think it’s good to honor that.” 

“You don’t wear your dad’s anymore.” 

“I was worried I’d leave it in the dressing room or something. I take it off too much. But it’s safe.” Ready for the day it would be repurposed the way his father wanted it to be anyway. “It’s different for you. The necklace was clever.” 

“Told you she was small, couldn’t even get it on my pinky,” he tapped the ring. 

“Tell me something else about her.” 

“Why?” 

“I like people you like, and there’s not a lot of them,” Pete settled a little, got comfortable. 

“I don’t remember-” 

“Aw, don’t lie. You’ve got a memory like a....do elephants actually have good memories or is that one of those sayings?” 

“Dunno. Think they do,” Izzy considered. “Don’t they mourn their dead or something?” 

“We’ll look it up later,” he decided. “Or ask Lucius, he always knows things like that. Anyway, just one story.” 

“We used to play hooky sometimes,” the words came slowly. It wasn’t a unique story and Izzy wasn’t really much of a storyteller, but two kids knocking around a city that Pete had claimed as his home had its own charm. 

Years later, Lucius would hear these stories too and he’d dig a little and produce the little photo. To Pete’s surprise, the girl he had conjured up in his imagination wasn’t far off from the real thing. By then, he’d met Delly too and wheedled out a few pictures of a younger, somehow impossibly, grumpier Izzy. It wasn’t hard to picture the two of them slipping around the edges of louder, bigger people. A shadowy pair clinging to the edges, determined to survive. 

“Sorry,” he told the picture when Lucius left it with him to go get his drawing supplies. “You should be here, I think. But I’m taking good care of him.” 

There was only silence, of course, but Pete didn’t mind. He preferred the dead where they belonged. Just seemed polite to acknowledge them sometimes. Just in case. 

[lserver362reviews]

It's hard to sit down and do the viewing experience justice when it comes to a movie like this. But since they gave us it, it's my duty to try my hardest to convey my gratitude by giving this a go. Show me a movie that has the even half the commitment to each character that this one does. In a movie where there are multiple selves, I was reminded just how complex every one of us is. All the unseen motivators and life experience that leads us to where we are at this very moment. Nietzsche's "Eternal Return" states that we are destined to be Everything Everywhere All at Once. If the Universe is infinite that means that every combination of matter exists in one area eventually, but also because matter is finite but goes on forever, the sequences repeat. This is an explanation for the multiverse. Because of this infinite sequence repeating or "Eternal Return" that we face, our commitment to the present is so incredibly important. It's all there is, simultaneously forever. So if everything just is and doomed to forever be, why not look at everything as important? If every action holds the same meaning because elsewhere everything else exists (chaotic, no?) we're free to make decisions that bear consequences in this current life and fully accept that responsibility. It takes an awful lot of faith to be kind in the world, but what kind of self do you want to live with forever? I've always found a lot of comfort in the multiverse because it gives the opportunity for existence in every single way. It soothes the feeling of life being subpar here. Elsewhere my dreams take shape, and it's a good reminder that it could always be worse. This idea presents endless possibilities and ways beyond imagining. This movie, oh yeah I'm making a review of a movie here, dares to imagine. BUT what strikes me the most about this movie besides all of the above philosophical stuff that it brings up, is that it's about what gives life meaning, whatever the life you're having/living looks like. Love, connection, grace, understanding, and acceptance are so genuinely and lovingly portrayed that I wept as I watched. I know what it's like to be queer, depressed, crave an everything bagel, be in love, and live with dynamic, often difficult, relations to my parents. I don't have an experience of being an immigrant or audited or facing a divorce, but I don't need to have experienced it to know that these experiences are complex, compelling, and human. This movie just nails every single portrayal and communicating these complexities with each of its characters, in their own way that feels full and without bashing you over the head with the themes. It cannot be said enough, yes the visuals were really stunning but the film is carried by this cast. There's so much play, and so much heart in this movie that the run time really flew by. The opposite of chaos is intention. The music, the humor, the design were all powerful tools to make true cinema here. I'm not using hyperbole when I'm say that I could feel this movie changing my life. Much like Nietzsche, even though I'm a Kierkegaard lady, the philosophy of this movie is to affirm life, however it may present and that you do get a role in that presentation through your actions and/or mindset. This movie reminded me of being a depressed kid and just wanting to be alone so I didn't have to try to explain what I was experiencing and let me tell you I've never related to and been so moved by two rocks sitting on the side of a cliff. This movie really has everything. Also Ke Huy Quan stole my whole heart. We love a quintessential dad, who puts googly eyes (the inverse of the bagel) onto stuff to introduce whimsical chaos into the recurring day to day of laundry and taxes. Love is still the most powerful force on the planet

[kiyosimp03]

Part 3 of the Ultimate Assassin! Kiyotaka Ishimaru AU

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40774683/chapters/115922095

After Kiyotaka came back from his forced holiday, Mondo still insisted on sticking on him like 24/7. At least this time it was being useful as his wounds still hurt pretty much. Also it was much easier to convince his father to let him back to school, with someone looking out for him. Even if Takaaki had stated several times that he would like Kiyotaka to leave Hope’s Peak entirely. But seriously Takaaki, have faith.

Well now back to the Point. It took literal days until Mondo had deemed Taka fit enough, to meet up with his Gang again. When Mondo left, he proceeded to have a Phone call with Junko. In which she said, that she would like Kiyotaka to recruit Nagito Komaeda, since he could proably handle the Danger of Nagito's sole existente better than Junko herself.

Hearing that Kiyotaka preapared himself for every possible scenario. For the most dangerous Kind of Person even, but not for that traumatized kid with selfesteem issues that is additionally riddled with cancer.

So in order to not recruit him for Junko‘s plans he sat down besides Nagito to do something that no one did try for a very long time: talking to him. Even if that meant getting hit by a truck once or twice.

As if the Universe wanted to see how true that was See how their one of their conversations went:

„ (..)so Nagito, since you seem to have such an Obsession with hope, how about you try to have some yourself?" Kiyotaka asked.

But before Nagito could ramble about how even Kiyotaka will grow tired of his bad Luck, a truck crashed into the Hope’s Peak Campus, right into Kiyotaka. While luckily no one else got hurt, Mondo's heart stood still for a second „TAKA!"

Just as he ran to retrive his boyfriend, Kiyotaka somehow stood on his legs again. His hair was white. Then he looked at his sleeve, Red Drops of blood. Shortly before he collapsed he told Nagito and Mondo not to worry. After that, his hair turned black again and Kiyotaka lied on the floor.

But he was very determined to not having to spend a day in bed again. So he pulled himself up. Ignoring the pleas of his worried boyfriend and went to his room. There he pulled out his protective gear and some tools. At this rate he will soon be able to get thrown out of a plane without even getting a scratch.

To Mondo‘s and Takaaki’s despair, of course.

‚Save the Taka‘

Demon: So you are telling me that there’s a child with incredibly bad luck, right?

ButterCorn: Yes.

Demon: and understandably no one wants to be around him, because everyone who is will get hurt even worse than him?

ButterCorn: Yeah.

Demon: and of course my dear baby son wants to spend time with him, for the sole reason that he is literally too kind for this world.

ButterCorn: Typical Taka, right?

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: At least he can improve his safety gear like that.

Demon: My son shouldn’t need to wear safety gear to school!

Demon: and he would even need it if he wasn’t so intent on helping people who clearly don’t deserve it.

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: Well Nagito didn’t do anything.

Demon: Well, he still is the reason a fucking truck crashed into my son!

(…)

Daiya => Kiyotaka

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: [Screenshot of previous chat] i won’t ask any questions, but i sure am very confused.

Everyone’sMom: and i hope it’ll stay that way.

After Kiyotaka put away his phone he was contemplating how Nagito could help him with his Plan. It was almost too easy. Make Nagito and Junko meet up and let a truck crash into Junko. If she survives that, he could just mess with her vitals in the hospital in a way that could be blamed on the truck, or whatever had hit her.

But did he really want to fulfill his job on the cost of Nagito‘s self-esteem? Adding another trauma to the kid that already has to live with the knowledge that he was partly responsible for his parents death.

Damn it! Since when did he care about such things? Kiyotaka clenched his Hands to fists. Fuck his Morals. Where did he even get them from? More importantly, how does he get rid of them?

Well there was no purpose in answering this question. Instead he straight up walked out of the Nurse‘s room and went to his dorm room instead. Where some of his classmates already awaited him. Namely, Mondo, Yasuhiro, Leon, Aoi and fucking Junko.

He sighed and asked them why they were in his dorm. Soon he found out that all of them thought that Taka derserved a break from the chaos of the last days. So they offered to take care of his Hallmonitor duties while he could do whatever. They even had gotten the Headmaster’s okay, if he wanted to skip a day of school.

All because they already knew that he wouldn’t stay in the Nurse‘s office anyway. But how was he supposed to relax, not knowing what danger Junko had planned for his boyfriend. And the others too of course.

Still he chose to attend his classes in peace. For once.

At least that was the plan. Until the fire Alarm went off and everyone walked out of the Building. He contemplated whether or not he should do so too, since he was technically on vacation.

But his boyfriend was still in the probably burning Building. With Junkrat. Of course the others too, but Junkrat could burn for all he cares.

So in the Building he stayed and grabbed a fire extinguisher. Soon he saw some little Monokumas on his way. Armed, but not there to fight him as these robot bears somehow seemed to know that he was involved in Junko‘s litte game.

He looked down on the teddybear „Monokuma, what happened?“

Instead of giving him an answer the bear only told him that this information was classified. To which he obviously decapitated the thing. The next Monokuma on his way was still not able to tell him, but at least it led him in the right direction.

Suddenly something exploded.

Seconds he stood before the Chemistry Lab. It was Locked.

Then Junko walked up to him. She was literally eating Popcorn.

„What did you do?“ Kiyotaka asked.

„Oh i thought i would have some fun with our classmates and Nagito“ Junko laughed.

Then she was going on about how good the despair on his face looked.

To which Kiyotaka hit the door. While Junko told him something about what a tragic story this was „and the Hallmonitor would even have been in time, weren’t it for the missing Key“.

Soon Kiyotaka‘s hair became white. He raised his fist.

Junko smiled „Yes Taka, feel the despair“ .

Instead he ripped the door out. Then he looked into the Lab

Fire everywhere and Nagito in the middle. And the others, passed out on the floor.

So he took Mondo in a bridal carry and called help. All while attempting to comfort Nagito. Meanwhile Junko shot photos of the whole thing and put them into the classchat:

Fashionista [Photos of Kiyotaka bridal carrying a passed out Mondo]

NaEGGi (Makoto): what happened?

Fashionista (Junko): The Lab was burning!

NaEGGi (Makoto): what? That’s horrible!

Fashionista (Junko): Yeah and the door was locked. Like, no one could find the key in time.

Fight Club (Sakura): is everyone okay?

Fashionista (Junko): Yes. Luckily @Everyone‘sMom, punched the door open, once we knew that we wouldn’t find the key. So everyone who took Taka’s duties for today is currently staying in the med bay. Nobody’s life is in danger right now.

Soon all the students were advised to stay out of the school Building until the situation is resolved.

On the Campus Kiyotaka decided to distract Nagito from the Situation and invited him for some Ice cream. Which none of them got to eat, as a really big bird stole it after they had purchased it. After that there was a Storm, and a wind strong enough to blow a person away. Namely, Nagito.

[If Taka hadn’t held his arm]

(and if Kiyotaka hadn’t worn the super heavy protection armor he called his school uniform)

After they were totally drenched from the pouring rain, they went back to school.

Sometime later they sat at the cafeteria. Where Nagito asked Taka, why he would even wanted to be around a hopeless case such as him. To which Kiyotaka literally turned into a motivational speaker, telling Nagito that he shouldn’t look down on himself like that.

At least in the evening, without anyone to distract him and Junkhoe being somewhere else entirely, he could finally chill for an evening and log in on his Tumblr account for the first time since he took the Hope’s Peak mission.

Finally on his favorite Hellsite again.

Time for a poem to celebrate:

„Remember , remember, the 5th of November,

When the US american Tumblr users didn't know whose shoelaces to steal,

the rumours of putin stepping down were quite a big deal,

out of nowhere Georgia flipping blue,

in Nevada nobody knew if the counting was to do,

a confession so homophobic and gay at the same time,

makes good for a superhell rhyme,

the new system of a down music not to forget,

oh and the ray ban sunglasses.

And two years later,

the same date,

Elon Musk seals twitters fate.

All in all,

gunpowder, treason and plot.

I see no reason,

Why gunpowder treason,

Should ever be forgot.

Like Corona was.“

Of course reblogging and scheduling things again, looking at whatever is going on with the tumblr fandom and of course talking to his mutuals of the Goncharov and Vanilla extract fandom. Also finally listening to all the Welcome to nightvale episodes he missed! Life was good this evening.

Luckily everyone was soon out of the hospital again. Which meant that he could torture Leon in the class chat:

Mom (Kiyotaka): @SuckMyBasedBalls: you’re late.

SuckMyBasedBalls (Leon): and you are texting in class

Mom: only because the teacher asked me to. I guess @420 (Yasuhiro) is with you?

420: Yep.

Mom: well if you’re not coming today, i recommend that you must really Watch Goncharov 1978 today, a true classic and nearly 4 hours long.

Donuts: Are U Okay Taka?

FightClub: it would be good to check in with the nurse Taka

ButterCorn: Sakura is right Bro, if you’re already at a point where you recommend them a film instead of reprimanding them you should definitely check in with the nurse. You know what? I’m taking you to the hospital.

Mom: I’m fine my dear. I swear. I’ll even check in with the nurse later but now, everyone: attention to the lesson please.

Save the Taka:

ButterCorn: Taka isn’t well

Demon: how so?

ButterCorn: Leon and Yasuhiro are skipping classes today and he recommended them a film they could watch Goncharov it is.

Demon: WHAT?

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: I didn’t expect him of all people to be a fellow tumblr User, but okay. Believe me he is fine, those two will suffer way more that way.

ButterCorn: Daiya wtf are yer implying?

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: You’ll see Mondo, you’ll see.

Sometime later in the class chat:

420: WTF Guys

SuckMyBasedBalls: We can’t find the Movie

420: Only a Bunch of analysis and spoilers

SuckMyBasedBalls: which make us want to see that film even more

Fashionista: What?

420: Taka, could you please send us a link, we are already looking for hours.

Mom: No. Go and drink some Vanilla Extract.

420: What.

ButterCorn: Guys, why tf are ya even awake?

ButterCorn: especially you Taka, you already don’t sleep enough as it is.

Donuts: Yeah, how didn’t you collapse already

Soldier (Mukuro): he brews his coffee with Energy drinks that’s how

Mom: You are right, but may i ask how you knew?

Soldier: obviously i was joking.

Soldier: WAIT. WHAT?

NaEGGi: i hereby revoke your rights to the coffee Machine

FightClub: a punishment that i will enforce

ButterCorn: Count me in guys. Sorry Bro, but your heart will surely thank me one day.

Soldier: i‘ll help you guys

Chihiro: i‘ll send you a timetable for the shifts

RichBitch (Byakuya): sorry Hallmonitor but they are right. Like, are you out of your mind?

Mom: i may be but at least i voted in the Bug race 2023.

BestSeller (GenocideJill): Now i know what you are Talking about. Me too! Down the horse Plinko the rest of you. Glad to see a mutual here. What‘s your favorite sexyman?

BestSeller: If you say Onceler, you‘re valid, but i‘ll kill you anyway.

Mom: Can i say Pika Man?

BestSeller: No.

Mom: Cecil Palmer then.

BestSeller: Relatable, bitch.

ButterCorn: i feel a little bit jealous.

Mom: No need to be Dear.

BestSeller: [picture of Tumblr Pika Man]

ButterCorn: What the fucking shit is that?

Mom: Watch your fricking language Mondo.

BestSeller: the thing you were Jealous of a few seconds ago.

ButterCorn: Please just swear for once Taka!

420: Pls just curse

RichBitch: I never thought that i would have an agreement with the Biker and the addict in my entire life, but Ishimaru. You really should just curse.

After that Kiyotaka laughed for like 10 minutes. Because that’s when Mondo came into his room and took his phone out of his hands. Kissed him. And somehow convinced him to go to bed (read: carrying a not so struggling Ishimaru to Bed, while said Ishimaru is complaining about wanting to stay awake until he lands on his bed and falls asleep).

— Save the Taka —

ButterCorn: [screenshot of the class chat] TAKAAKI WTF!

Demon: Oh that’s how he manages it to stay awake for that long.

ButterCorn: Thats all ya gotta say !?

Demon: Well yeah, I’ve pulled that trick myself a lot of times, before the government forgave my fathers debt. So i could work more than some extra shifts. Wasn’t exactly the best thing for my health.

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: Interesting

Demon: it would be nice if my son wasn’t alone with the coffee machine anytime soon. @ButterCorn

ButterCorn: Yes sir!

Demon: Also for the love of god, please try to get my son comfortable with swearing. I beg you. (When he doesn’t have the white hair, but honestly, i still have questions about why my son out of a sudden gets white hair, since he is in Hope’s Peak )

——————

ShineBrightLikeADiamond ——> Kiyotaka

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: [screenshot from save the Taka]

Everyone’sMom: Aww, almost cute how they care. Even if their efforts will be definitely in Vain. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: i, once again, am scared.

[romaine2424]

Fic Wrap up for 2022

OMG where did the year go? I achieved none of my goals I wrote down last year at this time. However, it saves me of making a new post, because they are the same for this year. Finish my WIPs!!! LOL

This year I wrote about ~210K. 193K posted (4 fics). The other amount is for those WIPs. LOL

Here's the list and indulgent commenting of the fics I posted in 2022:

Every Cottage Has a Story (5.5K) This was written for Salt & Pepper Fest 2022. It's Harry/Ginny/Draco. It's written from an adult James' POV when he discovers Draco isn't just a border at his parent's cottage. It's rated T and is so much fun!

Eight Days a Week (122K) This fic I wrote as a chapter fic. It had been years since I did this type of release. It's Drarry but M/F as Draco is trans-fem in this story. It covers the two years of her transition. I didn't want to make it that she took a potion and that was it. I thought it was important for their relationship to go through the physical and psychological process in more detail. Friends to Lovers. Harry is pansexual or rather he discovers he is :). The story took me five months to write and I'm not sure I've ever put so much of my heart and soul into one of my fics since Double Edged Sword. It is a Drarry love story and it is a positive transitioning story. And it's about those growing up years where big decisions have to be made. I had some very lovely and loyal commenters, which got me through to the end. I'm so grateful to them. However, I'll be very honest, I was disappointed in the overall reception of this fic. I know the saying is "write for yourself", but there was definitely a sting to this one. Aulophobia and @m0srael were amazing in their help with this fic. Rated E

25 Holiday Scenes for Eight Days a Week (16.3K) I didn't expect a big response for this one, but I still had this story and characters in my head for months after completing it. So, I wrote for me this year for @slythindor100 25 Days of Draco and Harry. LOL It was a lot of fun! And, I thank the faithful commenters. Rated G

The Roommate (42.7K) I wrote this as a gift fic for @sorrybutblog for the @hd-erised 2022 fest. OMG I had troubles with this one. I wanted to write a romcom but I think I'm unable to do such a thing, so a bit of serious plot forced it's way in. Here's the summary: After one year in Azkaban and two years of home arrest, Draco is going off to college. Myrrdin College is Oxford’s magical college, where one Harry Potter is currently attending. Both are going for their teaching certificates with Draco specialising in Potions and Harry in Defence Against the Dark Arts. The Headmistress has insisted all incoming professors must be degreed. However, the Board of Governors insist that Draco also must live in a Muggle house with limited allowance and take Muggle elective courses before he can become Hogwarts' new Potions Professor. Harry is coerced by others into helping Draco Malfoy survive in the Muggle world. My favorite comment on this was equating the fic to a warm blanket! LOL. It is cottage-core. Harry's goal is to make Draco Malfoy fall in love with the Muggle world...he might have achieved it a little too well. :) It's rated M. I so tried for the E but it just didn't fit the story.

The rest I've written was for my WIPs.

Favorite Lines:

1. “Shit! I’ve gone from a Death Eater to an old witch smoking and drinking on a porch.” (Libby to Harry in 25 Holiday Scenes).

2. He’s heard the saying that the wand chooses the wizard one too many times. Whilst it might be true, Draco has found that a wizard or witch will use any damn wand available if needed. (The Roommate)

3. “Don’t talk to me like that, James Sirius!” Ginny replied sternly. “I’m sorry that you haven’t noticed what’s slap-bang in front of your face. You’re like a Muggle not seeing magic.” (Every Cottage Has a Story)

Onto the New Year! Hopefully those WIPs will be finished. I won't be looking at any prompts for any fests this year. *yeah right*

[jumexju]

TRUE FAITH

Pairing !! : L / Misa

Fic Type !! : Oneshot / Fluff

CW !! : Self-Doubt, Insecurities (?), because I hc L as aroace Misa & L are in a qpr not a romantic relationship

Summary !! : In which Misa educates the heavily analytic detective on the topic of L-O-V-E.

Note !! : All ma homies stan MisaLiet

✦ MASTERLIST

“Ryu, you have to stay still or it won’t look good!” Misa pouted as she held the detective’s jaw with her left hand and used a small brush to apply eyeshadow under his eyes. 

“It tickles.” He said simply as he looked up at the ceiling trying not to focus too much on the sensation of the brush against his skin. His thumbnail was in between his lips as he let The Blonde put makeup on his face. Light was currently helping the rest of the Task Force further the investigation. L said he was visiting Misa to try and get more information out of her- But that isn’t what it looked like. 

Thankfully, Nobody except Matsuda was paying attention to the surveillance footage. “Man I wish Misa-Misa would do makeup on me..” He sighed dreamily as he daydreamed about the fantasy. 

“Matsuda please pay more attention to the evidence Ryuzaki asked us to examine…” 

“I don’t really understand why you came all the way here just for me to do makeup on you, Ryuzaki..” Misa mentioned as she cupped L’s cheeks in her hands, looking at her work. She hadn’t done much on his face but she did put eyeshadow around his eyes and apply eyeliner to his eyelids. It made his eyebags more pronounced but she can’t say it looked bad on him. 

“..I’m investigating.” was his vague response to her words. 

At this, The Blonde raised an eyebrow. “Investigating what? Light n’ I already told you we’re not Kira, didn’t we?” She put away her brushes and gave him a mirror with a smile on her face, “Anyways, Look!” 

He took the mirror in his cold hand, looking at his reflection. “Hm.. I don’t look much different.” he surmised. 

“Yeah well, Makeup is supposed to enhance the beauty one already possesses! I’d say you look pretty cute.” Misa smiled warmly trying to cheer him up, especially after he had admitted to being depressed about a week ago. She knew what it felt like to be depressed, mostly because that’s how she felt after her parent’s had passed. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even if Ryuzaki was a little weird, no one deserved to feel down! 

“Cute?” The detective peeked at Misa from behind the mirror. “You think I’m cute?” 

“I think you have your own charm,” Misa said, “But no one’s cuter than my Light!” she smiled brightly at the thought of her boyfriend. 

“Aww..” Matsuda cooed as he saw the moment unfold, “Did you hear that Light? Misa-Misa said you were-!” 

“Matsuda, please focus!” 

“Jeez you guys are no fun…..” 

“Misa, why exactly are you so infatuated with Light?” L asked. He was genuinely curious to know why Misa loved Light so much, especially when the feelings didn’t seem to be reciprocated by the man in question. Which frankly, L didn’t understand. Misa was good company and a good friend after all. 

“Love at first sight!” She stated confidently, “Once I saw him, I knew he was the one for me.” She professed her love to the detective. “It was like fate.” 

“Fate? ..That alone is an odd concept.. How can one love another without knowing that person at all?” L questioned. “It doesn’t seem logical at all..” 

“Love defies all types of logic!” Misa said matter-of-factly. 

“That seems troublesome.” L responded. 

Misa deadpanned, “Maybe you just think too much, haven’t you ever been in love before, Ryu?” The detective nibbled on the mochi he had picked up off his plate that sat on the coffee table. 

“In love? I don’t believe I have. I do, however, feel a bond with you and Light.. But I don’t think that that can be classified as ‘love’.” L tried to explain to the Blonde sitting in front of him as he chewed the chewy piece of mochi in between his teeth. 

“Well, that’s a type of love too y’know!” Misa said enthusiastically as she swiped the half-eaten mochi from L’s meticulous fingers. “Love doesn’t have to be romantic like me n’ Light. It can be like.. A friendly love.” Misa explained to the detective. L stayed silent, thinking hard about her words. Truthfully, none of this conversation would reveal any new facts about the Kira case. It wouldn’t bring them farther in any way, but L enjoyed speaking with Misa. Despite not being on his or Light’s level of thinking, she was a very optimistic girl. Although she could be considered an airhead, L could tell she meant well. He also knew she was being genuine about her words. 

“A friendly love.. Like you and I?” L thought about it some more, before letting his big eyes rest on her face. “I think I quite like the idea of that.” L smiled slightly. 

L was not one to speak about his feelings much, they were something that he seldom understood because they rarely made any sense. Of course, he was still human so he felt those emotions of anger & sadness.. But this meant that he also felt the loneliness that came with being the most revered detective. He rarely ever felt like anyone understood him or his actions ー most of the time, people just made up their own opinions about him despite not knowing him. 

“Y’know Ryu, you’re not that bad. You can be a little strange but you’re good company..” Misa admitted to him as she bit into one of the mochi she stole from his plate, a smile on her lips. 

“That makes me happy,” he said as he subconsciously fidgeted with his toes, “I enjoy your company as well.” These words may have been simple, but it was refreshing to L to have someone who understands emotions. Yes, he and Light were intellectually matched but Misa knew more about emotions than the both of them. She was more sensitive to them and could always gauge his own emotions even when he thought he hid them so well. 

“I know you and Light are super busy with the investigation,” Misa treaded carefully since she knew how Light had reacted to this conversation, “But i’ve been wanting to go to this new coffee shop that opened up in Aoyama, can we go? The three of us I mean.” 

L blinked a couple times, mulling it over. He was preoccupied with the Kira investigation but.. With the investigation at a standstill due to the erasure of both Light & Misa’s memories, maybe it wouldn’t hurt? 

“Please? It’ll be fun I promise!” Misa pleaded with the detective. Maybe going to Aoyama could help Misa and Light uncover their memories? Either way, it couldn’t really go wrong.. 

“.. That can be arranged.” L finally said as he stood from his place on the couch. 

“Yay!” Misa jumped from her spot and ran to the door, “I’m gonna go tell Light!!” 

“He can see you on the..” L trailed off and sighed as the girl ran off. 

It truly was refreshing to be around someone so different from himself. 

It was nice to have someone like Misa. 

[pridepages]

Selfish

I just finished Godslayers by Zoe Hana Mikuta I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Zoe Hana Mikuta doesn't flinch from the ugliness of life.

Far from being a cut-and-paste YA teenage Chosen One apocalypse fever dream, Gearbreakers was a gritty, grinding, and unrelenting read. It forced readers to confront the true horror of children becoming soldiers and the way war doesn't ennoble--it just traumatizes.

Direct sequel Godslayers picks up where the first left off, and it adds a new layer. We're used to thinking of love as the opposite of war, as this pure redemptive feeling that restores our soul from the baser feelings like hatred or greed.

But...is love really so pure?

Eris doesn't think so. She tells us that her parents raised her to be the perfect soldier: one who is perfectly selfless, living or dying just for the cause. "My parents wanted me to be cold because they thought it would save me. But it's making me sick and it's making us rot...I'm not going to waste myself like that. I want us to be selfish and together, and better for it."

Love as a selfish emotion is completely counterintuitive. Don't we always hear how loving someone is supposed to make us consider people beyond ourselves?

It's not that simple.

Consider it this way: if love is purely selfless, then we should always want to spare the people we love from suffering no matter what it costs us.

But what if it costs us...them?

"Would it have been better that way?" Eris wonders "For [Sona] to believe in something so powerful like that, something twisted and dark but with her mother and father still breathing at her side—caring for her, loving her, seeding faith in the place where rage and hurt are so viciously rooted now? Yeah. It would have been better. But I couldn’t have loved her like that."

By Eris's own admission, her love for Sona is only possible because Sona's suffering shaped her into the kind of person Eris could love. So, in effect, Eris is saying she can only love Sona through this specific type of pain.

But...how on earth does that kind of selfishness make Eris, or anyone 'better for it'?

I think the key lies with Eris's sister, Jenny, who declares: "I’m going to he here for the final act. I have to see how it all turns out, don’t I? I deserve that much. And I’m not going to wait around for someone to give it to me. I’m not going to stand for the world killing me before I give it to myself. I’m going to do whatever the hells I want, including surviving the worst of it."

Humans may be fundamentally selfish creatures, but that self-interest keeps us going, putting one foot in front of the other and trudging through the worst.

It's not pretty. It's not nice. Survival isn't.

But surviving is living, and living is hope.

So even if, in common honesty, we have to admit that love is just another selfish impulse...

Let us be selfish together---and better for it!

[asshlyyyy]

Elvis (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Chapter 3

So far I have twenty sum chapters planned out... How will I ever finish this. Sigh, I am too far over my ego. If I don’t post, force me too please. I am working on a background project that will eventually go up on Tumblr.

I am... listening to every Elvis song, album, compilation. You name it. I’m on day three currently and I’m not moving so fast. 

Anyways! I hope you enjoy the interactions between Elvis and the reader (Haylo)!!

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin!Elvis xfem!reader

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 3.8k

This Chapters Song!

"When I think of duets, I often think of romance songs." You spoke, knowing that Elvis was in the room.

"Oh? So, we're gettin' right to it, then?" He questioned. You looked up at him confused. Why wouldn't you get right into it? I mean, you had to write a whole song in who knows long it could take.

"I mean yeah,"

"Shouldn' we get to know each other first? Uh, see what kind of song we want to do?" He was right. You couldn't just jump into writing a song with someone if you didn't have each other's interests in mind.

"Sorry, just... I guess I'm worried is all," you confessed and closed the book.

"Ain' nothin' to worry 'bout, darlin'." He flashed you a smile. 

"One thing you're not gonna do is that," You pointed at him as you collected your things.

"What," Elvis chuckled lightly and watched your movements.

"Play that whole boyish charm, shit," you waved your hand at him. With every waking moment, you walked... breathed... or talked... he was taken back in awe.

"Anythin' for ya darlin'," you rolled your eyes at his nickname but couldn't help but smile.

"I hope you plan to take me somewhere nice for our date," you stated. You were honestly quite surprised with yourself.

"Oh?" Elvis raised an eyebrow as he opened and held the door open for you.

"You said you wanted to get to know me... so be it." You gave him a flash of your pearly greens.

"Alrigh', darlin'," he smirked gently.

"But first, you're taking me home, so I can change." You stated as you followed him to his car.

"Already takin' me home to ya parents? Damn ain' I lucky,"

"Cockiness will get you nowhere, Mr. Presley." You stated. He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

"You know, you're something different, Ms. Blakely."

"That's what everyone says. That's why I'm going to make a change. Haylo Blakely changes the world for life." You wave your hand in front of you.

"Oh?" Elvis urged you to go on.

"Mhm. The way I dress, the way I sing, the way I play. It's against all women norms." You pointed out.

"Oh, I noticed." He looked over at you. His bright blue eyes turned ever so slightly darker as they trailed your body.

"Good," you smiled gently as the two of you arrived at his car.

"Well, this is quite nice," you comment as he opened the door for you. "Such a gentleman."

You may have just met him just a couple of moments ago, but you felt like you've known him forever. His blue eyes greatly reminded you of your old friend. You doubted he still lived in Tupelo. Maybe one day... one day you'll run into him once more. Chat up on missed times. Go out for some food. You didn't have much faith in that thought. The chances of that happening were slim to none. You heard snapping and noticed that Elvis was trying to get your attention.

"What?" You readjusted your eyes. 

"I asked where ya lived," he repeated himself. You blushed in embarrassment, it wasn't noticeable... but you knew it was there. Caught deep in my own thoughts, which he would probably assume were about him

"Right sorry. I live over in Green Meadows on Morningside." You pointed in a rough direction.

"No shit," he looked at you. I raised my eyebrow in confusion.

"You think I would give you a fake address?" He shrugged and started to drive to your destination. You looked out the window and watched as you passed by everything.

Usually, you walked to the studios, which took you roughly an hour or so. A drive though? Like ten minutes. You sat back and relaxed. This was a nice car. It was clean and beautiful. Just wow. You were one who appreciated cars. Their beauty. Wow... 

"Alrigh', which house?" You looked out the window and guided him to your house, well... your step-douches, house.

"There it is,"

"Well shit, you're rich." He looked at you in disbelief. You didn't take anything against it. 

"It's my step-father's. I'm poor. I'll only be a moment." You commented and got out and rushed into the house. He just stared at the house in disbelief. 

You wanted to be in and out. Didn't want to run into anyone but your momma. God, you loved that woman. She did give birth to you after all. As you walked through the door you quickly rushed up the stairs to your bedroom. You found a simple pair of black pants and rummaged into your closet to find that one shirt.

The one shirt you found in the men's section. You insisted that it was for your boyfriend at the checkout. But, it was... indeed for you. What they don't know won't kill them. Once you found it, you admired it and placed it on, and stuffed some of it into your pants. The design was actually pretty simple, yet eye-catching. It was so eye-catching because it was on a woman. Your daddy always said if you were going to do something, make a statement.

You walked over to your vanity and sat down. You grabbed your hairbrush and started to brush the formed knots in your hair away. After a while, you heard a knock at your do. Since there was no talking following after you, you were safe to say it was your momma.

"Come in," you called out as you continued to brush the bristles down your hair.

"Hello, my dear." Your momma said as she walked in.

"Hi momma," you smiled and looked over at her.

"You looked all dolled up, going out with someone?" She asked, with that all-knowing look. She one hundred percent spotted Elvis outside.

"No," you shook your head. "Mr. Phillips from Sun Records wants us to record a song together so- we're getting together to figure out something." You explained to her.

"He's very handsome,"

"That he is," you nodded in agreement. You weren't going to lie and say he wasn't, your mother would've caught you.

"Why not go on a date with him," she suggested as she took the hairbrush out of your hands.

"It's just for work," you shrugged off the thought.

"Singing is not your job," she commented and started to brush your hair. Something she always did when you were getting ready. It was a shared moment you enjoyed with your momma. "It's your passion."

"Yeah... I don't know... Guess I'm worried he wouldn't want to," you comment. Even though you told Elvis it was a date... he didn't exactly react negatively. Maybe it was his cockiness that you wanted to match, to make him like you more. Deep down you held insecurities no one knew about. Not even your momma.

"I say give him a chance. He'll be more than happy to go on a date with you." She said and started to get your hair together, curling it lightly. It was like she knew something you didn't. What was she hiding up in that brain of hers? You looked at her through the mirror and squinted your eyes. 

"What are you keeping from me?" You asked.

"I'm not keeping anything. You just need to take risks sometimes," she said as she finished up your hair and rested her hands on your shoulders.

"I'm already taking too many risks."

"Then take another one," she commented and kissed the side of your head. "Now, don't keep that young man waiting." 

"Okay, momma," you said with a slight smile. You got up and grabbed your guitar. "I don't know when I'll be back."

"That's okay, take your time. Give me a call when you can." Your eyes widened. You needed to call Cela! You forgot all about that. God, but you didn't want to keep Elvis waiting... You'll just do it later, you were sure she'll understand.

"Thanks, momma. I love you." You said and hugged her.

"I love you too, baby girl." She whispered and hugged you back. She made sure to kiss your head a bunch of times while she was at it. 

"Now go have fun."

"Okkayyyy, byeeeee." You said as you walked out of your room. You head back downstairs and quickly out the door. You spotted William starting to pull in. Not only was he going to be mad that some stranger's car was in his driveway... he was definitely mad at you.

"Shit," you muttered and rushed to Elvis's car and got in. "Drive, now." You looked at him. He raised his eyebrow in confusion but figured it was better not to question it. You looked behind you as William got out of the car, an obvious mad look on his face.

You let out a sigh and placed your guitar on to the back seat. You leaned back and fixed your hair. Elvis looked over at you for a second as he examined your outfit. The tight black pants, the clear visible male's shirt. The ribbon in your hair that tied it all together. You looked beautiful... No, you looked hot. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, but he had to look away. 

"I'm guessin' you and your stepdaddy don't have a good relationship?" He asked after the two of you sat in silence. You shook your head no. It was way more than just a bad relationship.

"Not exactly," you sighed lightly. "After my daddy died my momma and sister... we were by ourselves for awhile. When my momma met William, he was all kind and whatnot. Buying us stuff we couldn't normally afford. He brought us into his house... then he became mayor... He's still kind to my momma, but when it comes to me... well..." You sighed and shook your head.

"I'm sorry 'bout that. You don't deserve that, sweetheart."

"Do you use these little pet names on other women?" You asked. He seemed so comfortable calling you them, you just had to ask.

"Sometimes, but other times they're special." 

"Mhm, I bet," you shook your head not believing it for one minute. Yet that word... special... Did that mean you were special?

"Would you like me to call you something special?" He then asked.

"I want you to call me, Haylo."

"As much as I love your name, I rather call you baby." He smirked gently.

"Are you trying to flirt right now?" You looked at him confused.

"Depends... is it workin'?"

"No," you laughed gently and looked out the window. You wondered where he was taking you. 

You guys have been driving for a while at this point. Sure, there was the possibility that he was driving you off to your death... but you also know that Raymond wouldn't let someone like that near you. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, besides the music coming from the radio that is. 

You enjoyed looking out the window. You absolutely loved being in nature. Surrounded by trees and flowers. This is where you wanted to spend most of your time. That's what was surrounding you at that very moment. There were a few other cars that you had passed, but for the most part... you were out of the city and in with nature. It's like he somehow knew where you would be most relaxed.

"Up next we have a very popular one with ya folks. That's All Right, by Elvis Presley." The radio spoke ever so slightly gently. You reached over to the volume nob and turned it up. You wanted to know what he sounded like when he sang.

"Fan?" Elvis chuckled lightly at your movement.

"Just haven't heard you sing is all," you replied and listened to the song. You knew this song from Arthur Crudup. Yet, it's like Elvis made it into his own song. Correction, it was very much his own song. It was much different from the original. Not to mention his voice... God, not only did he sound amazing to listen to him talk... just listening to him sing... god... Making all the girls weak with that voice.

"Ya know, they once had to play this song for over two hours one day." He explained. You didn't think he was trying to show off. Just wanted to prove to you that he was indeed a good singer... and maybe boost himself.

"Oh? Guess people needed more, Elvis Presley in their lives." You joked lightly and looked out the window. Slightly humming the words to the song.

"You know the song?"

"Course I do. I liked what you did though. You really made it into your own." You complimented him, a smile on your face.

"Thank you," he smiled gently at your compliment. Of course, he has gotten a bunch of praise and compliments for the song. But, you knew the original song... so when you complimented it... it made it a hundred times more meaningful.

"Of course," you nodded and reached your hand out the window. You felt the wind flow through your fingers. This was calming, and something you greatly needed.

"So... ya know your music then?" He then asked.

"I would hope so," you chuckled lightly. "I was introduced to music when I was young. Rather it was from my parents or my best friend. We would talk about music for hours. It wasn't until we moved that I got my first guitar. God, you couldn't stop me." You shook your head at the happy memory.

"So, ya didn' grow up 'ere then?"

"Not exactly. I was born in Mississippi. When I was five we moved over to Memphis." You explained as you looked over at him. His eyes fixated on the road.

"Worl's a small place. So was I," he looked over at you for a short second. It didn't shock you too much that Elvis wasn't from Memphis. A lot of people were moving around at that time. Rather it was from the market crash or the war. 

"So, where are you taking me?"

"Just a secluded spot, ways bit away," he answered. That didn't exactly help you much. You got nothing out of that. If you had to guess... it was going to be on the grassy hilltop or just flat ground. 

"'ere almost there." You nodded in response and looked back out the window. You watched where you went, curious to where you would end up. 

"Here we are," Elvis said as he pulled over to a spot off the main road. As he parked the car you reached for your guitar and got out. You felt the wind breeze through your hair as you walked over to the large field of grass.

"This is beautiful," you said as you looked around. It really was just grass for miles. Some fields of vegetables here and there. All in all... very beautiful.

"I come here when I need a break from everything," Elvis replied as he sat down on the ground. You shortly joined him and rested your guitar down.

"I get that. Sometimes it's a bit crazy being in the city all the time," you nodded in agreement.

"That's a nice guitar though." He nodded towards your guitar.

"Oh thanks," you smiled gently

"Gibson LG-2 right?" He question. You nodded in response.

"Yeah, uh. It was my first guitar. Um... after we moved into our first housing unit here in Memphis. They saved up a bunch of money and... it means a lot to me." You pick it up and placed it on your lap. You ran your hands around it.

"What's those markings?"

"Oh... it's silly but," you situated it so he can see. "It says, love you, momma and papa. Then my sister one day marked on it saying and Elyse." you chuckled lightly and pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"That's real cute. I uh, I got my first guitar back in 1946." He mentioned.

"That's when I got mine," you chuckled and placed the guitar down. 

"Ya just tryin' to impress me now, darlin'?" Elvis returned your chuckle with his own.

"Like I have to do that," you joked and shook your head. You laid down and looked up at the clouds. "It's all just... fate."

"Fate, eh?" He questioned.

"Yeah. Maybe the two of us are supposed to make music together. Take over the world song by song." You looked over at him. His piercing blue eyes ever so slightly appeared from the top of his sunglasses, that had fallen down his nose.

"You're a very positive person."

"I always try to find the good. I want to make people happy," you started to explain. "Music can do that to someone. You feel engulfed, and your emotions just skyrocket. A simple song can make your heart burst in love, fear, anger, or even sadness. Music really does... it just..."

"It got a special meaning." Elvis finished it off for you.

"Yeah," you said softly. "What got you into music?"

"When I was growin' up, ma parents and I... we went to an assembly of god church, and that's where I found a lot of my love in music. Yet, there was a girl who fed into that. She was younger than I was, but we were two peas in a pod." He explained.

"Do you guys still talk?"

"Oh... no... she moved away and  I uh, haven' seen her since." He smiled sadly and looked towards the sky.

"That's a shame. I bet she'd be real proud of ya now, Elvis." You smiled.  Elvis returned your smile and nodded. You were such a nice person, and not to mention an amazing singer. It was an honor for him to sing with you.

"I bet your daddy is proud of you," Elvis stated. You smiled gently and felt your eyes start to water. You went and quickly wiped them away.

"Thanks, Elvis," you said softly. Elvis was such a sweet man. All men around his age were.... well how do you put it? Disgusting really.

You bet he had a girlfriend. A man like him, he one hundred percent had to. You shouldn’t feel upset about it, but… he was like a whole package. He was very sweet, nice… honestly amazing so far. You could see yourself being happy with him. You smiled at that thought really. 

His arms being wrapped around your frame. A smile on both of your faces as you laugh at something you guys did. That was the life you wanted. You wanted to be happy like your momma was with your daddy. You wanted to be happy like Elyse and her husband. 

"So... love song?" Elvis asked after a few moments of silence.

"Huh?” You asked confused. 

“For our duet. You mentioned it earlier, darlin’.” He explained.

“Oh! Right right,” you sat up. “There are some different ways we could go with that. We could switch singing every so often, and sing the chorus together… or we could do one where you’ll sing the first verse, I’ll sing the second, and we’ll sing the chorus together and the ending.”

“Do what makes it easier on ya,” Elvis said. He was letting you decide. That’s new... Most men tell you what to do. They treat you like you’re an object.

“Let me get my songbook,” you said and got up. You rushed over to where his car was and reached in. You grabbed the book and headed back over to him. 

“So, my brain is pretty much retired for the day. I had to write a song in less than 24 hours so I’m kind of pooped.” You start to say as you sat back down. “I might not have the best ideas, so, just hit me with something.”

“Uh… how ‘bout… I’d do anything for love... but I won’t do that?” Elvis suggested. You thought about it for a bit. It was good. The whole idea/theme of it… it sounded good.

“Alright, let’s say… that’s the title? And the main theme, then what?”

“Well, how do you usually write a song?" He asked, blue eyes curiously looking over at you.

"I don't," you confessed. 

"Didn' ya just write a song?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Barely," you chuckled lightly, "everything that's written in here, is unfinished. I'm surprised that I was even able to finish that song,"

"Maybe you just need a break? How about," he held his hand out to your guitar. "May I?" You nodded and hand him the guitar.

"After spendin' so much time writin', you need a break. So, let's take a break. We got a title and a theme." He explained and started to strum a tune.

It was a tune you've heard plenty of times. It was the same tune that The Ink Spots used often at the beginning of their songs. You watched his fingers as he play so delicately. His eyes were on yours, never leaving your frame for a second.

"A Rose must remain with the sun and the rain, or its lovely promise won't come true. To each his own, to each his own, and my own is you." He started to sing. You knew this song. It was one you often heard on the radio.

"What good is a song if the words just don't belong, and a dream must be a dream for two. No good alone, to each his own. For me, there's you." You joined in. Elvis smiled at you. Your voices blended so well, that they danced around and created their own melody.

"If a flame is to grow there must be a glow. To open each door there's a key. I need you, I know, I can't let you go. Your touch means too much to me.”

"Two lips must insist on two more to be kissed, or they'll never know what love can do. To each his own, I've found my own. One and only you." Elvis hummed this part. It was usually when one of the members came in and just spoke the lyrics. The other members hummed along ever so quietly.

"Two lips must insist on two more to be kissed, or they'll never know what love can do. To each his own, I've found my own. One and only you." The two of you finished.

"To each his own-"

"The ink Spots," You finished off his sentence. He nodded and grinned.

"Ya know your music, darlin'," Elvis said as he placed the guitar down. 

"It's all I do," you admit with a small chuckle. 

As he looked back up, his eyes from yours. A slight smirk on his face. Your body started to move in, and so did his. It's like you had no control whatsoever. It was just so inviting, so breathtaking... his blue eyes... his boyish charm... God...

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[mari-writes]

Bokuto is exhausted by the time he arrives at Akaashi’s house. 

He bends over, bracing his upper body on his thighs, and tries catching his breath. Puffs of vapor escape from his mouth, and he already feels the sweat on his skin turning icy in the late February chill.

But he’s smiling—so much so that his face is hurting from more than just the cold air. He clutches the piece of paper he’s holding tighter as he finally straightens and treks the rest of the way up the front stoop.

He rings the doorbell. Waits. Anticipation builds as he hears soft footsteps approach. The front lock clicks and the door swings open.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi's looks surprised. “What are you doing h—?”

“I have something to show you!” Bokuto grins. “And no, I can’t wait until Monday morning! Please, ‘kaashi, can I come in?”

Akaashi’s browse raise. But his shoulders immediately lose their tension and he sighs, stepping back to let Bokuto in.

“Pardon the intrusion!”

“It’s okay, Bokuto-san, my parents are across town visiting family. So, um … it’s just us.” Bokuto doesn’t miss the furtive glance his boyfriend gives him, and for a moment, Bokuto forgets why he’s there.

Akaashi looks extra pretty today. He’s wearing a knit sweater and rumpled pajama bottoms, and his hair is tousled in the cutest way. Sleep still lingers in his eyes. Everything about him looks so soft…

Bokuto shakes himself out of it. Now is not the time to be distracted. He has important news to break!

“Did you run here?” Akaashi frowns as his eyes rove over Bokuto’s form. “You’re shivering. You don’t even have a jacket on! Do you really want to be sick for your last month at Fukurodani?”

Bokuto’s grin turns sheepish. “Oh, um, sorry. I forgot! I was just so excited! Akaashi, please, just look at this letter!” He shoves the sheet of paper into his boyfriend’s face.

Akaashi leans down to read the page. He’s squinting badly at the words, and Bokuto reminds himself to ask Akaashi later if he’d finally called the optometrist. 

“Is this a…” Akaashi grabs the paper, bringing it closer. His eyes scan it from top to bottom for a second time. “Bokuto, oh my god! Y-you got in!”

“Yeah!” Bokuto is practicing vibrating in place. “And it’s my first choice school, too! I did it ‘kaashi!”

Akaashi’s expression warms as he meet Bokuto’s gaze once again. “Of course you did. I always knew you could.”

Bokuto shrugs. “I mean, I was never that sure of my chances. Not like you were.” Akaashi’s cheeks redden a bit as Bokuto continues: “You always had so much faith in me! All those times you helped me study, being my vice captain, hanging out with me when no one else would. I, um, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

For a moment it’s silent. And then, a delighted laugh tumbles out of Akaashi as he launches forward, throwing his arms around Bokuto’s neck.

Bokuto nearly pitches backward from the force before finding his footing and wrapping his own arms around Akaashi’s waist.

“I am so proud of you,” Akaashi breaths, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re amazing.”

Bokuto puffs out his chest slightly. “Yeah! I am, aren’t I?” He grins, and leans down to capture his boyfriend’s lips.

However, it’s not long before Akaashi is pushing back with a frown on his face. “Wait, have you not even told your mom, or sisters yet?”

Bokuto chuckles, blushing slightly. “Um, no. I was just too excited, so I had to run here immediately.”

Sighing, Akaashi shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

They make their way to the living room, cuddling up on the couch with cups of tea. The weather outside has worsened, dark clouds now streaking over the city, and Akaashi suggests that Bokuto stay until it clears up. Of course Bokuto agrees. They’ve only been dating for a month, and Bokuto doesn’t have long until graduation, so any time they can spend together is precious.

They’re halfway through an episode of an anime when Bokuto remembers something else.

“Oh!” He gasps, turning to his boyfriend in a thrill. “Did I tell you that Kuroo got into the school too?”

Akaashi’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Yes. Kenma told me last week. Hang on, so that means…”

“The pact is in effect!” Bokuto exclaims, punching his fist towards the ceiling. “We promised we’d room together if we ended up at the same school! The prophecy has been fulfilled!” 

“Oh my god,” Akaashi says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys are going to get into so many shenanigans.”

“Yeah! Wait, what’s ‘shenanigans’ again, ‘kaashi?”

“Mischief. Misbehavior. General mayhem.”

“Aww, c’mon! We won’t be that bad. I promise we won’t set a fire or anything like that, okay?”

“That is NOT encouraging.”

//

And then bokuaka make out for three hours until Akaashi’s parents come home and they have to scramble apart awkwardly 😆 THE END

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. And thanks Furudate for telling us about college graduate Bokuto Koutarou 🥰