#he's neither the provider nor the receiver. he's just himself

[dirkxcaliborn]

I was recently thinking about a frustration I've had with the way the fandom treats one of my favorite characters, and how I often frame it as "I hate how they feminize him" only to immediately feel off about it bc that's not really it. Because if I think about it for two seconds, I really love seeing him with things associated with femininity. It's not really a man being "feminized" that's the issue so much as how people treat femininity. I think what I've really been frustrated with is how he's been infantilized. And I think part of that association for me is just a history of m/m relationships being pushed into m/f gender roles and the "woman in the relationship" is always made weaker and helpless and needy. There's also a history of characters being pushed into a feminine role while being portrayed as actively hating it or being incredibly embarrassed by it.

And so in my mind being feminine became equal to "being treated like a girl" which became equal to "being made pathetic and shamed for it." And I think that last part is what I really hate.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

----

The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. “Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

----

Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger @sociallyakwardpanda

@imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu

If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening

[harunayuuka2060]

Vil: *is not amused by MC's decision to visit him in Pomefiore. Moreover, after elegantly and gracefully subduing the students who tried to stop them, he had no choice but to let them in*

Vil: I trust you won't waste my time with such pointless requests.

MC: You're the only person I could think of who can do it safely, since your ability requires specific conditions to be met.

Vil: *frowns* Who told you that?

MC: I received the information from a reliable source.

Vil: Azul.

Vil: ...I see. Unfortunately, we're neither friends nor close acquaintances. I don't grant favors simply because someone asks.

MC: The acting skills of the actors in your Film Studies Club need improvement.

Vil: What did you say?

MC: I watched your members practice, and they came across as nothing more than wannabe protagonists.

Vil: ...

MC: ...

Vil: They are inexperienced because they have never had real acting work.

MC: Even so, you are a professional actor and model, although you may lack experience as an acting mentor.

Vil: ARE YOU TRYING TO PROVOKE ME?!

MC: That is not my intention.

MC: In fact, I can provide suggestions for enhancing the acting skills of your actors, especially since you mentioned that my acting skills are superb. *smiles*

Vil: ...

Vil: The last time, they didn't react negatively when I rejected them at the audition. So why are they bothering me now?

Vil: ...

Vil: Alright, I will permit you to be an acting mentor, but only for a week.

MC: That's more than enough time. In return, once you see improvements in your actors, will you finally grant me the favor I'm asking for?

Vil: Yes.

MC: Then we have a deal.

Rook: Roi du Poison, you chose MC as the acting mentor for your club? *genuinely surprised*

Vil: I know. A bad decisio—

Rook: Non! You certainly made the right choice!

Vil: *raised an eyebrow* How so?

Rook: Chevalier des Roses has been praising them because the Heartslabyul students have been behaving exceptionally well around MC.

Vil: The Pomefiore students aren't fans of them, Rook—Hold on a moment.

Vil: ...

Vil: *squints his eyes at Rook*

Vil: Are you...?

Rook: ...

Rook: *cheerful* Oui!

Vil: *facepalm*

Sebek: MC-sama! You shouldn't offer your help to commoners like them!

MC: ...

MC: Don’t most of the students from Pomefiore come from distinguished families?

Sebek: Yes, but you are still above them!

MC: ...

MC: Sebek, I don't think I need to worry about the class system since I don't have the prominent traits of the Draconia clan.

Sebek: MC-sama...

Lilia: *appears* Oho~ That's not true at all.

Lilia: Only ignorant fools would believe you don't come from a noble lineage.

Lilia: Because just look at you~!

Lilia: You're adorable and sweet! Just like Maleanor before she turned into a menace.

Sebek: L-Lilia-sama!

MC: ...

Lilia: *knows that they're planning something*

MC: Would you be let down if I turned out like my grandmother?

Lilia: *chuckles* Not at all.

Lilia: But surely, you'll let me see how this unfolds, right?

MC: *smiles apologetically*

Lilia: Aww... No?

Jamil: *feels satisfied that MC seems to be becoming more open with Kalim*

Jamil: I knew it. They may seem reserved, but they're genuinely naive at heart.

Jamil: *reviews the document he prepared to position himself as the new dorm leader of Scarabia once Kalim leaves NRC*

Jamil: My parents can't blame me because the world is dangerous for Kalim, and I can't always protect him.

Jamil: *couldn't help but smile*

Jamil: Soon, I will be saying farewell to you, Kalim.

MC: ...

MC: *with a serious expression* It appears you believed you had this all planned out, Jamil Viper.

[kokomos]

 ✴    ⅱ.    new habits die hard     ࣭     ๋  𖥔 ݁  ˖  ‏☽

— starring    AU!  LUKE CASTELLAN !  ♆

  ⤷    ⅰ.   new habits die hard

MDNI 18+

warning : weed! luke & reader smoke together.

alternate universe : takes place in an au! where there are no gods, or demigods for that matter. luke lives with his mother, alone, and takes care of her full-time when he's not off doing odd jobs for the locals.

description : after moving several states away from his home in suburban connecticut, luke found himself in unfamiliar territory and in need of a new plug. lucky for him, you're the town's resident drug dealer.

tags : fem! reader, dealer! reader, loser! luke, au! luke; dom! reader kinda, subby! luke; luke can't handle his weed.

honey's note : somehow this got turned into a slow–burn? next part will contain more action, promise <3

it hadn't been a full week since luke castellan, new to town, stopped by your trailer to get his fix. it seemed out of the question that the plug he'd be buying from would be you. even as he neared the residence for the first time four days ago, impressions formed based on the unkept and rather disastrous front lawn, nothing would have him guessing a girl would be the one behind it all.

his neighbor's son, a permanently befuddled teen who luke deemed ‘nice enough’, offered up your contact as soon as the older boy mentioned smoking. he certainly wasn't your wisest customer, that's a given, but you know he meant well and there's no denying that he definitely did you a service despite his impetuosity.

a few messages are exchanged between you and luke prior to his arrival. you pick the time, telling him to swing by around eleven—it’s later than he cares for, his mother always advised him against driving late at night, but he’ll oblige without a second thought if you're the one asking.

in all honesty, luke didn't even need to pick up more bud—the surplus he underpaid for had only diminished by a gram or so, less than two. still, he wanted to see you again. something in his heart was telling him that it was a necessity  not a desire; that you couldn't be separated from actions taken in the name of self-preservation. though, luke wasn't dauntless enough to tell you the truth and he certainly didn't have the confidence to back it up either, so he'd keep that to himself—just for now.

his hands were trembling slightly as he hobbled up the stairs, across the makeshift porch, to reach the front door. even the very tips of his fingers couldn't conceal the fact that his heart was racing.

luke was quick to note that the steps were broken; shoddy craftsmanship combined with neglect over time—the same treatment that the rest of the property had received. for a moment his mind wandered and he thought about how he could fix them up for you; he could fix up a lot of things around this janky, old plot. there's no way he would even think to charge you for the labor, though he has a feeling you'd insist anyway. a payment from your finest stash, luke surmises. but that was neither here nor there, and he needed to prepare himself to greet you.

his right hand forms a fist before connecting with the frame of the door. he knocks twice before adding one more for good measure, a pace behind the other two in uniform.

the crooked door swings open, and there you stand. luke had already been wearing a flare on his cheeks, but it only intensified further at the sight of you in a pair of pajamas. tight short-shorts and a simple tee.

“hey,” you welcome him so casually it makes him feel like a fool for being so nervous. he has no time to properly greet you as planned, instead providing a remarkably sheepish smile as you move a bit to the side, beckoning him through the doorway. “you comin’ in?”

of course he is.

he complies in an instant, more or less meek in appearance as he glides past you. luke takes a few steps away from the entrance of your home, and plants his feet firmly into the warped hardwood of the living room, turning his attention to you in wait.

“so, you smoke a lot or did’ya have to supply your friends some?” you ask after closing the front door shut. the question is brought about with an air of nonchalance, though that does very little to calm his nerves.

he chuckles, feeling both caught off guard and put on the spot. “uh—,” he clears his throat as his eyes flicker to yours. “yeah,” he falters for a moment before finishing with forced conviction, “i kinda smoke a lot i guess.”

you shrug it off, giving him the benefit of the doubt, though there isn't much belief in your expression. “sure,” you dismiss, “come sit with me.”

there's not much room for luke to debate. your feet are already in motion and you brush right by him to cross the space, path set for the sofa. luke follows and takes the seat beside you, sinking into the cushion with visible unease. he makes an attempt to get comfortable, and fails, unable to decide where he should put his hands. after several moments and careful consideration, he decides on extending his palms to rest over the expanse of his jeans. in the same moment, you prop the heels of your feet up onto the table in front of the couch, angling your legs into view for the nervous wreck to your right. a small sigh of content draws his attention from the sleek skin of your thighs towards your rosey lips.

that smirk you've formed causes some alarm and his nerves flare up once more. “have you never seen shaved legs or something?” you enunciate each word in your query, goading him into a more playful mood.

his cheeks flush, and he feels like a fool for the second time tonight—must be a skill of yours. tearing his gaze away, he lets out a shaky breath, one that he'd been holding in since he first took that spot next to you. “sorry,” his speech stalls and his eyes warily meet yours again. “i wasn't trying to…” he staggers off, hoping you get the memo—which you do. but there's no fun in not teasing the boy, especially when he's just so easy.

“to perv on me?” you finish for him, smirk left unrestrained and etched into your face.

his eyes widen, slowly leaving yours, and his head shakes from side to side. “i would never,” he stammers quickly to plead his defense.

“i'm just fucking with you,” you reassure him, light-hearted words paired with a jaunty wink. it wouldn't be fair if you were to chastise the boy for simply looking your way, certainly not after the last time he made your acquaintance—and you were doing far more than just looking at him.

you draw your legs back, letting your heels hit the floor, before reaching for some supplies laid out on the table. you unscrew the top of the grinder, unveiling the packed chamber. a whole glut of green and purple tints. your fingers pinch some of the ground weed and you begin filling the bowl for the bong—both crafted from pink glass and marked by hearts. suddenly, your efforts cease and you turn your head to catch his eyes.

“you wanna stay to smoke, right?” you smile a bit ingratiatingly.

luke immediately nods his head; and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight. instead you opt for returning your focus to the task at hand, finishing up and placing the bowl in the stem.

“guests first,” you offer the bong out with a grin luke could only describe as endearing; a contrast to the mischievous curve your mouth usually carries.

there's only one thing replaying in luke’s mind as he reaches out to take the glass from your hands.

don't embarrass yourself, don't embarrass yourself, don't—

he flashes a quick, grateful smile for your hospitality. “thank you,” he mumbles, ignoring the unabated warning currently clouding his thoughts.

your pupils dilate the moment his lips wrap around the same piece you'd had your own two lips on not twenty minutes earlier. such a natural, you praise him without a word. he pulls a hit from the bong with ease, yet coughs on the exhale. the glass, with the bowl still lit and burning through the remainder of the green, is mindlessly passed towards you as he desperately tries to compose himself.

a snicker escapes your throat. instinctively, your hand reaches over the middle of his back and you pat a few beats to aid his efforts. “you okay?” amusement accompanies your concern.

by now, luke was entirely out of sorts; but your chaste touch, an attempt to soothe the discomfort from the smoke infiltrating his lungs, was enough to make him catch his breath and hold it. “luke?” you inquire, curious about his condition.

“i’m fine,” he tries to laugh it off, flustered by more than just the way his name rolls off your tongue. his head turns your direction and for the first time, he makes real eye contact with you—not just for a brief few moments before he inevitably glances away.

a smile lifts your cheeks slightly and you retract your hand from his back. much to his disappointment, you break the contact in favor of taking your own hit from the bong.

there's a few more exchanges of the glass back-and-forth before luke taps out. you hadn't realized he saw each offer of your generosity as some sort of competition between the two of you, to see how much he could handle.

he's melted into the back of your couch, eyes fluttering shut. cute. you’re feeling the effects of that friendly contest too—not as much as he is, evidently. years of smoking every day, all day, granted you a higher tolerance for the substance, and the opportunity to tease your client. “do you have something to prove?” you titter with delight.

“hm ?” luke hums, tilting his chin to view your face instead of the wall he'd been zoning out on.

“i asked if you had something to prove,” you restate plainly. “you know you didn't have to keep up with me, yeah?”

you're drinking in the look on his face by the bucketful. lips parted as his mind whirls, searching for an answer to a question he's already forgotten—“huh ?” his voice comes out more soft and airy than you've recently been accustomed to, not that you'd ever complain about that.

“nevermind, man. just, uh—” you stifle a snicker, holding back from full-on laughing in his face, “—take it easy.”

he mumbles something in confirmation, ‘okay’ it sounded like, and allows his eyes to rest once more.

“sleepy?” you coo, applying a tone one might use on a child rather than the man luke was trying to portray himself as.

he manages a faint chuckle, but barely opens his eyes to respond. “mhm ,” he murmurs, with a dopey grin on his face.

you square your shoulders, leaning against the back of the couch with your thighs flat against the cushioning. “you wanna lay your head down?” you simper.

the weed had mitigated some of luke’s anxiety, and his inhibitions were at an all-time low. “sure,” he agrees, unwavering for a change.

a couple pats drummed on the upper portion of your leg coax him closer. without delay, he kicks his feet up and stretches across the sofa until he's properly situated on his side. with his left cheek now pressed into your thigh, you can feel the soft hum of contentment contained behind his lips. your hand reaches out towards him, fingers seeking refuge in the soft curls atop his head. it doesn't take more than a few minutes for your eyelids to grow heavy, and a small yawn signals the inevitable. when the clock strikes twelve in the trailer, all is silent—apart from the snoring of you and the customer you forgot to sell to.

ᡣ𐭩   with love , honey

[mariacallous]

When the claims representative, whom I’ll call Steven, sat down at his computer around 7:15 A.M. last week, he had already been awake for an hour and a half. The morning routine for him and his family is best described as “fend for yourself,” he said. That day, he waited for his older son to shower before taking his turn; neither he nor his wife had time for breakfast. He had joined the Social Security Administration two decades ago, and came to specialize in one of its more complex and lesser-known functions: providing a form of welfare called Supplemental Security Income, or S.S.I., to people who are disabled or extremely poor. But the S.S.A. is so understaffed that Steven does a bit of everything. “My job is to be kind of like an octopus,” he said. The agency’s administrative budget had not kept up with its rising workload as more people aged into retirement. Now news outlets were reporting that President Donald Trump and Elon Musk, via Musk’s DOGE outfit, planned to fire up to half of the agency’s sixty-thousand-odd employees. (The S.S.A. later said that its goal was to lose seven thousand.) DOGE had also gained access to S.S.A. databases. “We don’t know how long we’ll be here,” Steven said. “Some people are really pissed. Others are sad and emotional. Others are making plans.” A couple days earlier, Trump had delivered a long self-congratulatory speech to Congress, in which he accused the S.S.A. of “shocking levels of incompetence and probable fraud.”

Steven lives in a Midwestern town near where he was born and raised, which means that he occasionally recognizes a relative or a family friend in a case file and has to recuse himself. Three days a week, he’s at a cubicle in a regional field office, one of twelve hundred across the U.S. The other two days, he works from home, at a plastic folding table in the corner of his bedroom. He was on the early shift. His laptop was propped up on a neon-green bin, the kind typically used to store Legos or crayons. It was flanked by two large monitors, creating a triptych. All around him were piles of kids’ clothes and books. Near his left foot was a tiny metal car; he had taped yellow notecards reading “clock,” “fan,” and “shelf” to a clock, fan, and shelf for the benefit of his youngest child, who was learning to read. Steven’s wife made drop-offs at kindergarten and day care, then came home. She has her own office setup downstairs.

The day officially started when Steven logged on to a dozen software programs. One had a blocky monochrome interface that looked like it was from the late nineties. Another was labelled “Workload Action Center,” in a light-brown, slanted font of a similar vintage. Steven kept a list of his passwords, which he had to routinely update, on a scrap of paper next to his keyboard. He scanned something called a “Tickle List” that highlighted urgent cases. His primary task was to conduct nonmedical “redetermination” interviews (code: “RZ”)—part of the S.S.A.’s process for insuring that current recipients are still eligible to receive benefits. More than seven million Americans of all ages count on S.S.I., and sixty-eight million seniors receive earned retirement payments. Social Security is the largest government program in the country and most recipients’ main source of income. It was envisioned by Frances Perkins during the Great Depression. “Redeterminations are the highest priority,” Steven said. “We should have three to five people on them at every office. Sometimes there’s only one.”

He put on a wireless headset that connected to his laptop and an online phone system. The first redetermination call was with a parent who was receiving S.S.I. on behalf of a disabled child. “Hi, this is Steven, from Social Security Administration,” he said. “I’m just calling to see if you’re able to do the redetermination appointment.” His stomach growled. The bottom-right corner of his center screen flickered with notifications. He stayed with the caller. Date of birth? Marriages? Job placements? He clicked “yes” and “no” bubbles and typed in numbers. He had much of the script memorized. “Any items held for potential value?” he asked. “Promissory notes, real property or business property, or ABLE accounts?” S.S.I. is allocated based on an applicant’s income, assets, family size, and other factors. It often takes a year, and the help of a lawyer, to get a decision. (Earlier in Steven’s career, the time frame had been three to six months.) If an application is rejected, the case can be appealed to an administrative-law judge, and the wait for those hearings is around two years.

“That was the last amount verified,” Steven continued. “Has that changed?” While waiting for the program to advance to the next screen, he glanced at e-mails on his rightmost monitor. There were more from headquarters and human resources and the employees’ union than usual. Since November, three S.S.A. commissioners or acting commissioners had come and gone: Martin O’Malley, Carolyn W. Colvin, and Michelle King. The guy in charge now was Leland Dudek, whom Trump had elevated from a middle-management role for his eagerness to help DOGE access S.S.A. files, a vast library of individual medical, housing, family, and financial records. Dudek announced plans to eliminate six out of ten regional headquarters; several directors left the agency. In an all-staff e-mail, Dudek wrote:

Criticism, contempt, stonewalling, and defensiveness are the four forces that can end any relationship and weaken any institution. . . .

Elections have consequences. . . .

Now, under President Trump, we follow established precedent: we serve at the pleasure and direction of the President. Only the Courts or Congress can intervene.

The latest e-mail from headquarters stated that, “effective today,” employees were prohibited from engaging in “Internet browsing” of “general news” or “sports” on “government-furnished equipment.”

Steven was almost done with the redetermination. Hard cases, like an overpayment that needed to be clawed back, could “make the conversation longer, vulgar.” This one was easy; the payments, of around a thousand dollars per month, would continue. “You will receive a summary statement regarding the information that we discussed,” he said. He moved on to a second call. This one, too, involved a young adult whose caretaker—in this case, a nonprofit organization—was the payee. “Hello. This is Steven from Social Security. How are you?” His cellphone buzzed. Since Trump’s reëlection, he had been in a prolific, darkly humorous group chat with fellow S.S.A. workers in the Midwest. He referred to them as his sisters and brothers. The incoming message was a link to a news story about the imminent closure of S.S.A. field offices in the area. One man in the chat, who voted Republican but had grown skeptical of Trump, wrote, “Fucking unbelievable. . . . This would devastate our agency’s ability to serve the public.”

Meanwhile, the redetermination call was getting tricky. A new source of income seemed to be complicating the calculation of resources. Steven put the nonprofit on hold and logged into Equifax. He walked across the room to grab a plastic bottle of water and took a swig. “I’m trying really not to go off the deep end,” he said. If his office closed, and the neighboring offices closed, many people would have no way of getting benefits. For one thing, applications for Social Security cards and certain forms of S.S.I. had to be submitted in person.

Steven worried about his own well-being, too. His kids were on his health insurance. He and his wife had to take care of his father. S.S.A.’s human-resources division had sent an e-mail titled “Organizational Restructuring—Availability of Voluntary Reassignment, Early Out Retirement, and Separation Incentive Payments to ALL ELIGIBLE EMPLOYEES—No Component or Position Exceptions,” which seemed to pressure workers to leave. “A lot of this stuff is intentionally degrading,” Steven said. “They’re trying to do whatever they can to get people to resign.” Recently, he and other field-office staff were told that their jobs were safe because they were “mission critical.” That was reassuring, but only “a little bit.”

When the Equifax search proved inconclusive, Steven told the nonprofit, “I’ll have to put this on the back burner for a bit until I can get some info.” All three of his screens were noisy. In Microsoft Teams, a supervisor was asking for updates on specific cases. Another window showed the names of people waiting in the lobby of the field office, in real time. He stared at a name in the queue. “This one, I’ve been playing phone tag with her,” Steven said. He opened a chat to alert a colleague at the office.

The work is surprisingly personal. A Social Security file contains a lot of intimate information. From a quick glance, Steven can tell where a recipient was born, what language they speak, whether they’d been involved in the child-welfare system, if they are married, whether that marriage had ended as a result of divorce or death. He has some colleagues whose “attitudes suck to high heaven,” caused by a mix of stress and a suspicion of the poor. “I love helping people,” he said. “You’re the first contact for them.”

Next, Steven had to get “on the phones.” Fielding random calls on the S.S.A. hotline isn’t technically part of his job, but he didn’t question the assignment. For several weeks, everyone had been required to help out. “Good morning. Social Security. This is Steven,” he said. “What is your Social Security number, please? All right, starting with your name and date of birth . . .” He wrapped up his first few calls rather quickly. He sent out a missing tax document, scheduled a father for an in-person appointment to get a Social Security card for his baby, and confirmed bank information for a recipient’s direct deposit. A fourth call, involving a lost check, was more complicated. He rubbed his forehead with his thumbs and forefingers.

Steven later received two mass e-mails. The first reminded all S.S.A. employees to send their “mandatory weekly assignment”—the “What Did You Do Last Week” e-mail, with five bullet points summarizing what they had worked on—directly to the government’s Office of Personnel Management, not to anyone in their actual agency. The second one was yet another plea for workers to quit or take early retirement. It warned that some who opted to remain in “non-mission critical positions” might be reassigned to S.S.A. call centers. No definition of “non-mission critical” was offered.

“I just keep wondering, How long can I be doing this?” Steven said. Many years before Trump and DOGE, there was a period when he could not sleep. “The job would cause me to wake up in the middle of the night,” he said. “You know how your brain can’t shut stuff off, or you’re just dreading going in the next day?” He was troubled by certain cases—a girl who had been abused in foster care, only to end up with a grandmother who stole her S.S.I. checks. He was also haunted by the need to reach case quotas, never explicitly stated but often implied. “Cutting corners happens in this industry, when representatives are trying to just get something off their list,” he said. “So then it’s like, ‘I got that done.’ But did you really help the person?” His latest sources of worry were a news article in which O’Malley, the former S.S.A. commissioner, predicted “system collapse and an interruption of benefits” within “thirty to ninety days” and an affidavit by a former agency official that described DOGE’s violation of privacy protocols and the likelihood of “critical errors that could upend SSA systems.”

Steven has never been a zealot for anything except his favorite football team, but now he believes that he and his co-workers are part of an “underground movement” to prevent the destruction of Social Security. Trump and Musk, and more conventional Republicans, talk obsessively about rooting out fraud at the S.S.A. Mistakes and overpayments do occur, but the agency’s inspector general recently found that less than one per cent of benefits distributed between 2015 and 2022 were improper. Steven believes that mass layoffs will result in vulnerable Americans not getting the money they’re entitled to. “We service people at their best and worst times,” he said. “People heading into retirement, surviving spouses, widows, widowers. It used to be we’d get complaints from the public. We’d start off a call by apologizing. ‘We’re understaffed!’ ” Now, he went on, “people are apologizing to us.” ♦

[sunflowersbones]

I'd never dare change thee;

To what thou art not

Warnings: This fic will contain DUB-CON, Incestuous relationship, Stepcest, Manipulative behavior, Coercion. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

[step-brother! LOKI x reader]

Summary:  Secrets; their poison so vicious, they twist and turn one’s mind, subjecting them to unimaginable agony. The shadow of its despotic veil keep even the god of mischief awake at night. The prince does not bode well with secrets, and you must bear the brunt of it.

DIVIDERS: @silkholland l BANNERS: @vase-of-lilies

*

You can still remember the very first time you saw him; the memory fresh on your mind like a blooming moonflower.

He carried himself with the same poised demeanor that his company held yet his presence was a juxtaposition from the women and child he followed. His raven hair was as dark as the beautiful night sky whilst theirs was a burning gold, shining like the sun.

Frigga’s tranquil smile that had been graced upon you had slowly morphed into a pained one. It now resembled that of your mothers except of course it lacked the burning body, the tired eyes and the hushed voice.

Elders always had a way of communicating through silence, the act much frequent in your abode as of lately. You didn’t think much of it, elated to finally be in the company of your peers.

So, as they shared their woe, you spent your time playing with your guests. While one was loud and rowdy the other was silent and mischievous. However both of them were kind to you, they included you in all their little shenanigans; unlike the children from the neighborhood. Their departure had saddened your heart; the loss of a new found friendship was not one a little faunt could bear. However, little did you know that the universe would sew your lives together with golden threads that would slowly turn into a charred black…

Your mother’s death does not weigh upon your mind anymore, you were too young to properly remember anything anyway. But the fear that brewed within you upon entering the golden palace was not something that could be easily forgotten.

You’d lost your father when you were just a babe and your mothers chide was the only reprimand you’d ever received. Allfather’s voice and stern demeanor was too much for your little spoilt heart to bear.

You remember crying in your chambers all through the day, neither Frigga’s words nor Thor’s joy could ease you. While Loki’s silence was comforting you still felt a weight upon your heart.

It was his little bag of tricks that had finally put a smile upon your face. You’d been in awe of his magic; always having deeply admired snakes, their presence had provided the distraction your mind had needed. You slowly caressed their skin as they slithered around, only daring to after seeing Thor do the same. Their skin gleamed the most beautiful emerald, resembling that of their creators’ eyes. The boy adorning a shy smile at your joyful giggles.

Frigga’s love was bounteous, and soon you found that behind Allfather’s stern countenance lay a loving heart and an even kinder soul. Your brothers while reckless were the most joyful company one could ask for. Your new home had loved you to an extent that almost made you forget where your true parentage held. Now they were all that you knew and you loved them as truly as they loved you.

You sit still as the maids work on your hair; adorning it with gilded pins to style it as their heart desired. Their exited whisper surrounds you as you admire their work through the looking glass, hoping that they wouldn’t notice your lack of interest.

Your mind has been preoccupied since the sun had risen. Heart sullied by a nightmare; it was the same one that always haunted you. The memories of your childhood betrayal­­­; ­the day of the royal hunt.

The three of you had been mischievous enough to sneak out on your own. Thor was convinced that he could kill the biggest boar, his excitement was infectious and neither of you paid any heed to Loki’s concerns; eventually convincing him to join you in on your adventure.

It was your fault that the two of you were lost, you had decided that you wanted a victory of your own to present and decided to separate from the blond prince.

Now Loki couldn’t possibly leave you all alone thus obligingly accompanied you on your mission, one that would turn into a catastrophe within minutes.

You were so deep within the shadowy distorted woods that even Loki couldn’t recognize the way out.

You remember clutching on to him for dear life, his own hands wrapped around yours protectively. Yet his eyes betrayed him, they always did. You could see the fear that brewed within him, one that he wished to hide behind comforting words.

So, when you heard his voice shouting at you to run; you did. With all the strength within you, abandoning him there as he distracted the yellow eyed creature that hid within the dark bushes, those which had stopped you on your tracks; made you forget how to breath.

No amount of crying or consolation would let you forgive yourself for what you’d done. Loki escaping, encountering Allfather and returning safely was simply luck bestowed by the universe.

You did not care that the latter was livid at all of you for your disobedience nor that you might receive severe punishment.

While your tears still did not stop, they were now mostly of solace as you wrapped your arms around Loki’s, slowly falling asleep to the comfort of his presence beside you.

You had promised yourself to never abandoned him again. The pledge still in your heart, you find yourself making your way towards his chambers rather than Thor’s. Yet the cowardice in your heart can’t help but force you to slow down your pace impelling you rethink your decision; what if he doesn’t want to be comforted? what if he does not wish for your presence right now?

You push yourself through. You do not know, and until he has made his wish clear you will not presume. You are ready to provide him with whatever it is that he wishes, may it be solitude or company.

You slowly walk into his chambers, your footsteps resembling the softness of the ray of sunshine that lightens up the chambers.

You find him lounging on the window sill, his elbow lazily placed upon his knee as he looks out through the window. His helmet is polished and placed upon the table, the sunlight reflecting off of its pristine surface as it forms a bright stripe over you; blinding you. You move forward to admire it and carefully run your fingers over its marvelous horns.

“Careful. You do not want to get cut; now do you pet?”

He turns his head around, eyes now landing on you. A sly smile on his features as you sheepishly smile back.

“You look marvelous.”

You grin as you slowly spin around, the small tinsel on the dress spinning around along with you.

“I had to; mother insists that we wear the same colour.”

“Well… you do look the most beautiful in gold.” He replies.

“Yes, but I prefer green. It suits me better.”

His smile remains as his eyes flit away again into whatever tranquility he had earlier achieved.

You slightly part your lips and sigh as you close them again. Your eyes drift around, unable to form any words that seem appropriate for the moment.

“Are you nervous?”

“Me? Of course not. Why would I be?”

“I believe you’ve miscalculated your steps sister. The brother whose coronation tis today resides a few chambers away.”

You tilt your head at his jest, lightly knocking his shoulders. Yet as you look into those eyes you feel your heart grow heavy, you’re certain his does too.

Many things have been left unsaid, you’re unsure if it is the appropriate time to bring it up. If there ever will be.

No matter what they say, Allfather’s words have been etched into their hearts from a very young age; they deem their worth through his eye and the throne. It is what they have both desired all their lives…

You are no god and your words will go unheard but you do not believe that one deserves it more than the other. Both excel when they are together, their mistakes more turbulent without the other.

Thor needs Loki to restrain him before his temper entices him to an act he repents and Loki needs Thor to impede him before his own mind consumes him. Yet the throne will only go to one, your heart aches for the other that is left behind.

“Are you upset?” You eke out your voice a whisper but he hears you all the same, he seems slightly surprised by your honesty but not encroached.

You notice a slight glint in his eyes as he moves closer to you.

“I will admit; there is a part of me that is slightly burned by envy,” you feel a cold weight upon your arm, its soft skin slithering against you as it moves upwards.

No matter how convinced you are, that they were simply projections it never fails to amaze you how real Loki’s magic felt.

“I’ve looked forward to this day for a long time. There is a conviction that surges through some part of me, one that believes that I would do much better than him.”

You feel its thick body coil around your neck its weight resting upon your clavicle. The head moves towards you and you hear its gentle hiss near the shell of your ear.

“He is my brother and dear friend; I do believe in him. Never doubt that I love him.”

His lean fingers moves forward as they intertwine with yours. The reptile bestowed upon you moves downwards your left arm, its tail lightly grazing your neck.

Its head now moves towards its maker as it slowly coils around his arm. Half of its body still attached around your arm; its grip does not loosen. The force of it pulls you towards Loki. Both of your arms now tightly intertwine by the coiling snake.

“I never would. I believe you Loki with all my heart.”

His eyes flit over you as he leaves a hard breath, lips forming a straight line.

The sound of thunderous steps dissipates the bubble that had been formed around the two of you as Thor’s booming voice follows.

“Of course! you reside besides him when it is I that require your urgent attention, and no I am not nervous. I do not need your comforting words, you must simply regard my wear.”

He stands tall in his shiny armour, yet his knuckles are pale with tension as he tightens his fist. His anxiety and excitement all culminating in an ensemble of energy.

You hear Loki’s slight snicker as you chide at him with your gaze. A sympathetic smile upon your face as you turn towards the eager prince, your heart swells at his radiant beauty.

“Quit befitting for a king, I’d say.”

The blond envelops you in his strong arms as he picks you up, his laughter contagious as he presses a strong kiss upon your cheek.

The corner of your lips slightly frown at the scent of ale that pervades through.

“Couldn’t you at least wait until after the coronation to start drinking Thor?” You chide, only to receive a cheeky smile and an unbothered sway of his head.

“I’m sure the ale helps him with his nerves.” Loki snides.

“I’m not nervous.” Thor booms as he moves to attack his brother but Loki sways away just in time.

However, upon the blonds second attempt he complies as they playfully embrace each other. Your heart swells with warmth and you can only hope that the future holds the same exuberance.

Lest to say, your prayer was unheard. You knew Thor too well and preferred to stay away from his company at times like this. His anger knew no bounds and you were sure that the servants would have to deal with his ramifications.

You lay down on your soft silk in hopes to ease your mind, but no amount of twisting and turning could calm your nerves.

How could anybody possibly have slipped through the ever-watching eyes of Heimdall. It was impossible yet it had occurred, you are certain that this was no coincidence. They had every opportunity before yet they aim to destroy your brother’s coronation. Who’s to say they won’t try again? what if it wasn’t just the casket they were after, what if this was an assemble for an attack?

Your mind twirls in agony and you barely hear the doors to your chambers swing open.

You feel your bed dip beside you and even before you turn around you know it’s Loki, had it been Thor the silence would have been destroyed ages ago.

You feel his eyes rest on you as he leans his head onto his knuckles, his elbows placed on your raised pillow.

“There is something I must confide in you.” His voice a timber, as his fingers move to slowly caress your wrist.

“You must promise to stay calm and do as I say.”

“Thor is adamant on paying a visit to Jötunheim. I must go along with him.”

Nothing had prepared you for what you had just heard, you were sure that Loki would simply be complaining about Thor’s antics.

“Is he insane? are you insane? Do not go around abiding to his wishes!”

“He is adamant Y/N. I cannot stop him.”

“We will not be all alone, his little troop of yay sayers will be coming along with us.”

“This is not Midgard. You have never been to Jötunheim before. It is dangerous.” You caution, trying to put some sense into him.

“Well, that doesn’t seem to be permeating into his thick skull.” He says his tongue clicking in annoyance.

“But if Asgard is in danger, then nothing wrong in going there to find some answers.”

You wish to retort back, but your own fears regarding the future resurfaces. You cannot blame them for feeling the same.

“How do you intend to pass through Heimdall?”

“I’m sure I can find a way.” He winks.

“What must I do?” you sigh.

“You must tell Allfather imm-

“What no! this is not child’s play Loki. Father will be infuriated.”

“I do not wish to extend our stay any longer than what is necessary. Thor will not comply.”

“It is only father who can put some sense into him.”

“But-

“Simply do as I say pet, please.”

“Yes.” you whisper as your slowly nod your head in weary compliance.

You decide to remain in your chambers the whole night. Father’s stern look towards you before rushing away has assured you that both Thor and Loki were going to bear severe consequences. You’re unsure how Thor would react to your bad faith. You do not wish for either of their wrath upon you, thus you find yourself hidden away in your chambers at least until dawn.

You try to busy yourself with one of the books that Loki always carries with him. It is only your eyes that skim upon the words, mind too preoccupied to truly understand anything.

Just as your eyelids weight upon you, you hear the sound of the doors creaking open. Confusion fiddles you which slowly turns into dread as you glance upon Loki’s ashen face.

He barely acknowledges you as he walks forward and seats himself on to the bed.

He plummets back letting his upper body fall onto the sheets, eyes shut in exhaustion.

“What happened?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes still remain shut as his slow breathing continuous. Frustrated; you spring up from your chair on to your bed. You gaze at him for a few seconds before shaking him as you whisper again.

“Loki, what happened?”

His eyes blink open and stare at you, the look in his eyes unreadable. He sits upright again but now refuses to look at you, his gaze on the floor. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out except another exasperated sigh.

“Thor has been… banished.”

You wish that your ears are faulty or that this was simply Loki’s jest, yet his eyes tell you differently. You knew that Odin would be angry but you did not expect to such extent.

“There must be something that can be done, let us request to father, beg him to change his mind.”

“There is no point.”

“Loki, he is in a faraway land all alone, for how long who knows. We cannot let this happen to our brother!”

“He is no brother of mine.” Loki shouts, fire in his voice as his arm slaps against the bed and he storms forwards.

“Do you know? Or am I the only jester at this court.” His eyes gleam a mean look towards you; one you’ve never been at the receiving end of.

“Know what?” you whisper.

His eyes find the floor again a small sigh meddled with exhaustion.  His eyes turn to you again before darting away and you feel your heart break at the glaze in his eyes.

“Father has been rather deceitful.” his voice strains, pain etched all over it which suddenly turns spiteful.

“You know it all makes sense now, why I’m always just a shadow to Thor’s gleaming shine.”

“Loki what nonsense ar-

“I am not his true heir.” he barks, teeth clenching as his fingers dig into his palm.

You know not what to say.

“The casket wasn’t the only thing that he brought back from Jötunheim; there was a runt along with it. Odin has always had an affinity for souvenirs”

“Loki, do not say such words.” You move forward to hold his hand but he retreats back slapping it away.

“What!? that I was not just a stolen relic. That I’m not a monster? the same one that I’d sworn to slay to ease your mind, to put you to bed. The one everybody hates.”

“Stop.” you scream. The only time your voice went octaves above his; the whole of today. His lips are closed but his frown remains.

“You cannot possibly imagine what it was like to change into that… thing. To feel the frost rush in through me and numb me.” His throat bobs, the sorrow in his eyes unbearable.

You slowly move towards him, his feet remains planted where they are, you take it as a sign to continue.

“No. I cannot know, and I’m so sorry that I could not share your pain.” you whisper, arms raising up, fingers slightly trembling as they move to hold his face between your palms.

“But what you believe is not true. I love you. Mother loves you; Thor loves you and so does father. We would never hate you, we couldn’t.”

“The whole world does.” He bemoans.

“Damn the whole word! We are all that matters, nothing has changed, Loki.”

His breath falters as he stares at you. You feel an eternity pass through, as his hatred, anger, love and affection all mingle into one as he gazes at you, before he completely breaks down.

His legs buckle as he kneels down, his whole visage shaking uncontrollably as his tears refuse to stop.

In all your life you don’t think you’ve ever seen Loki cry. Even after a brawl with the other boys or his brother, with cuts and bruises littered all over his body, he’d simply grit his teeth and endure it.

You hated it, seeing him like this broke your heart; irreparably so.

You find yourself crying as you kneel down beside him.

“There was– there was an argument, and… fath– father seem to have succumbed into an Odin sleep.”

You heave a sigh at your family’s misery, grasping onto the reality of the situation.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is, I–

You move to wrap an arm around him, hand slowly caressing his back. You embrace tightly, refusing to let his own words torment him.

You softly press your cheek against his, his own hands wrapped around your waist in order to steady himself.

The cool night air swirls around your bodies, slowly seeping in to heal the wounds formed by the heat of your words.

You tilt your head to the side as you place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“It is not your fault.” You whisper again feeling a compulsion to.

His own eyes shut as his breathing slows. Both of you sink into the floor, his head rests onto your chest and your fingers slowly swirls through the end of his hair while the other wraps around his torso to hold him close to you. The cool surface of the floor comforts you as you both remain still, too tired to say a word.

You walk through the large expanses of the corridor; the palace seems to slowly be recuperating back. Its movements slowly resembling its old patterns, yet the absence of the prince and the king seems to ring loud.

You carefully step around the foliage, holding onto a few strands of random flowers that you picked; clustering them into a miniature bouquet.

You can hear mother’s tune carried to you through the air from a distance. You bunch up your skirt as you make your way around.

Upon the stone near the high wall Frigga resides gazing away, humming her tune. She turns around as she senses your presence and slowly bids you towards her. Her smile as warm as the resting sun.

You seat yourself beneath her, head resting on her lap as she accepts the flowers you gift her. Her fingers slowly comb through your hair soothing you.

“I hope you don’t feel neglected. I apologize, I could not find you for days, my child.”

“Mother,” you reprove “of course not, father needs you. And maybe Loki too… they are in more distress than I, you need not worry about me.”

“That does not make it any easier now does it, my dear.” She whispers.

You simply hum in response as you close your eyes, time seems to be clicking slower every day as your worry increases in an unequal proportion.

“Will- will Thor be, alright?” you eventually ask.

“Of course, he will. You forget your brother is not a child anymore.”

“Yes, but he is without his powers, without Mjölnir.”

She remains quit for a while.

“Thor is much more than his powers; he will come to find that. Even if he was in distress, I’m certain he will find a way out.” She holds determination in her voice as she continuous.

“Nevertheless, worrying about it will not change anything; I tell your brother that, but all Loki seems to do these days is worry. He has a forlorn look in his eyes; I can never tell what he is thinking about.”

Her voice might be calm but words betray her, you know that she worries more than anyone. You close your eyes again as you lay, trying to forget, as you listen to the cicadas chirping away…

You walk towards the study your conversation earlier with Sif still fresh on your mind, its bitter taste lamenting there. The maliciousness in their voice evident.

Loki is seated behind a stack of books and papers as they surround him. He seems to notice your presence but pays you no heed. His eyes glued on as he scans through the sheets.

You move over and sit next to the window, gazing out into the darkness; a stark contrast to the lanterns lit in the room you reside in.

“I suspect Thor’s friends do not believe that the council wishes for you to be king. They were rather… disregardful.”

His attention still remains on his work, predetermined to not care for any other matter.

“What they believe is of no consequence to me. I will be loyal to my burden nonetheless.” He mutters from behind.

“They are trying to find a way through.”

You turn around and look at him, he now looks back at you, the quill trapped in between his fingers; its tip no longer touching the paper.

There’s a sudden rush of anger in his voice, a contrast from his earlier calm behavior.

“They are idiots! There’s no point. With his powers gone he cannot summon the bridge; and even with that, Heimdall won’t disobey Odin’s orders.”

“But you are king now, there must be something you could do.”

“Y/N. My first command cannot be undoing all father’s last. Thor cannot be helped.”

“What will he do? He is all alone.” You feel your eyes watering up.

“This is his own doing.” He stands up, the screech of the chair upsetting you further.

“You should have stopped him. I should have stopped you.” You wail.

“Why?”

“What-

“You know him just as well as I do, you know how he is. Is this really what Asgard needs from its king. A temperamental, impulsive, fool.” He hisses.

You feel offended on Thor’s behalf as Loki’s hypocrisy grates on you.

“So are you; temperamental, impulsive and a fool.” you shout; clenching your teeth.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes as he moves around the table. A patronizing smirk as he leans back on the edge of it.

“His absence seems to overshadow my presence in your mind. I’ve always wondered why that is? why he’s always so favored.”

“Were there whispers at the meadow? dreams in your heart? A coronation and then a wedding… everything blissfully set apart.”

“Were promises made?” he inquires.

“What do you mean?”

“Do not pretend to be a fool, it is unbecoming of you. Do you truly not see the way our subjects view the two of you.”

The frown between your brows deepen as you register his words, “What are you accusing me of!”

“Nothing you aren’t already being accused of; the position of the queen is well coveted.”

Your movement was instinctive, if you had a moment to think you would not have done it. The sound of the slap echoes in the air as the red impression of your fingers form upon his fair cheek.

“How dare you. Thor would have you tongue for that.”

“He would? Not you? must he save your honour now.” He goads.

“I’ll do it myself if you don’t leave this very moment.” Your voice trembles.

He suddenly seems to realize the pain his words have caused. A sliver of shame seeping through him as he gazes upon your sad eyes.

“I apologize it was uncouth of me, I-

“Leave.”

He stand still then suddenly turns and leaves. You turn around unable to comprehend the conversation you’ve just had, the taste of its poison choking you as it leaves.

It’s been days since you’ve seen Loki, your last conversation leaving very little to say. The quietness of the palace was reeling your mind; every wall felt littered with secrets, every servant’s glance felt like an accusation. You were unsure what you were accused of but your heart felt the weight of its guilt.

That is how you found yourself riding through the bejeweled road of the Bifröst. Begging the all-seeing to let you through.

“Please Heimdall.”

“Princess, please do not plead me for something I cannot grant. I do not have the permission and I believe you do not want the king to know.”

You turn around begrudgingly, there was no point. But stop as his voice peeks out from behind you.

“I do not wish to speak ill of the royal family but is my duty to protect you, you may have my tongue if you think it fit.”

“Please, speak freely Heimdall.”

“I turn my gaze upon the new king when he finds himself in the cold lands, and I can neither see him nor hear him.”

His voice echoes the same notion that you have heard before. You thank Heimdall for his grace, unsure what else to say as you make your way back to the palace. Uncertain of the confrontation to be held ahead.

Your sandals slap against the floor, as you drag yourself. Hogun’s words of a traitor within the house ringing through your ears.

A part of you wants shun yourself for even thinking so; but there is only one whose cunning magic could hide himself from Heimdall. Your dread slowly turns into anger and the lack of answers forces you to want to believe what you’ve been told; still, you wish to hear it from him.

You swing the door to his chambers open wanting to satiate the anger within you, and yet as his eyes find you; your will collapses. Your eyes find the ground as you feel them tear.

“Are you here to argue again?” he sighs, “I’d rather finish some work before we get-

“Have you been to Jötunheim? You will not lie, not to me.” You plead. His eyes remain on you, face placid as he takes a deep breath in.

“Yes.”

“Traversing through the Bifröst?”

“No. The Bifröst is not the only means for travel, there are ways around it.”

“Did- Did you show them their way in, during Thor’s coronation?”

“Yes.” He admits.

You gasp in horror as you feel your legs collapse, he rushes over to you. You move back as you swish your hand in anger, backing away as you hold on to yourself.

“Is this a coup? If so please end me first, because I cannot bear to see you tear up our family like this.” Your composure breaks and you find yourself sobbing nearly uncontrollably.

“Is that what you think of me…? I believe I’ve been wrong about you.”

“You are. I am not poisoned with greed; unlike you I do not covet the throne.”

“It is not greed.” he shakes his head exasperatedly, “It is not wrong to desire what one deserves.”

“I deserve the throne and I deserve you; much more than Thor ever will.” He snarls, as he moves forwards, hand latched on to your chin as he forces you to look at him.

“It breaks my heart to know you think I’d hurt you. I’ve only ever loved you.”

You feel the heat of his breath upon you, his hands moving down towards your shoulders. The force of his grip now stronger, his confession meddling with your inability to answer.

You sigh, and prepare yourself to speak but before you can, you feel his lips upon yours, the soft small gesture nearly shaking your entire soul.

He parts away from you to look at you again, your eyes now solely focused on his lips. Your eyes flit up towards his, you feel your cheeks burn at the sight of his flushed face so near to you.

He moves both of his palms to cradle your head between them, his lips finding yours again; now more fervent than before.

His right hand moves to the small of your back as he pulls you in closer. His feet moving back as he drags you along with him.

He seats himself on to the bedding, hands never leaving you. His lips leave yours, and you finally breath. The heat of his kiss still warm on your lips. He uses this opportunity to push you upwards, forcing you to straddle him.

His left arm moves to intertwine between your hair as he slightly tilts your head to the side, leaving hurried kisses along your neck.

His other hand palms at your breast, grazes your stomach as he moves it around to pull you in closer. You feel a sudden hardness press against your core even through the layers of clothing.

Your body rock itself, desperate to increase the friction between your bodies. Hand moving now to intertwine between his dark locks.

His hands moves down beneath your underskirt. Slithering his way in as he cups your core over your breechcloth, the feeling sending shivers down your whole body.

Your body moves upon his and he moans. He makes quick work of undoing the threads of his pants, and you feel the hard length of him against your thigh.

The feeling causing goosebumps all over your body, his lean fingers graze your quim as they work to move your cloth to the side. You feel burning shame course through you at that, which only increases as he uses your wetness to stroke himself.

You feel him aligning himself to your folds. The fear of the situation slowly transmits through you and you hurriedly try to push yourself off of him. Yet his grip remains tight on you.

“Hey, hey look at me, I love you alright; I love you. Nobody can love you as much as I do.”

He whispers into your mouth as he moves his hips upwards, pushing himself into you. You feel your mouth part at the slow movement. His grip on your thigh tightens, nails digging in as he pulls back slowly, however within a second rams into you.

You lose inhibition at that, your own body desperate for control as you ride him. The large expanse of you skirt falls around his lap, covering him and refusing his attempts to push it away. His teeth lightly grazes the shell of your ears as he groans at the feel of you tight around him.

He plants open mouth kisses along your throat, through your clavicle to your chest. The triangular cut in between your bodice feels the softness of his lips as you shut your eyes in pain and pleasure.

The pace of his movements increases as he pushes his face further into your bosom. You feel his long nose against your ribs as you pull him closer. The desperation of his movements oscillating you. He snarls as you feel him lose himself insides you. The sudden heat and wetness of it coating your insides.

You feel the heat around you slowly dissipate. The cloud around you loses its form as the horrors of what you’d done crawls on to you.

But before you can voice your words, he turns to the side throwing you onto the bed. Your head hits the soft cushioning of the pillows and you yelp as you feel Loki’s weight on top of your body.

His hands more desperate now. His knees move to spread your leg apart, his frustration at you gown still evident as curves his arm around the back of your knee and hikes your left leg over his shoulder.

You nearly lose your breath at the sight of him in front of you, his fingers dancing upon your legs. He tilts his face as he kisses the pearled brooch atop the welt of your hosiery, his eyes refusing to leave yours.

Your lips quiver as you feel him push himself into you again, much easier than earlier. Your leg bends as he moves forward, his chest now pressed against yours.

The wider space easing him to push into you completely as he slowly increases his pace, his movements much more deliberate now. You feel his heart upon yours, both of them beating in the same rhythm as they twist around each other.

His face edges closer to you as his lips find yours again, your hands flail and move around to hold onto his shirt, bunching it in between your fingers.

Your nails digging through it into his flesh. You feel a pressure build up within you and your unsure if you want him to stop or keep going. You feel your mind aching for something, and just like that you feel a rush of ecstasy course through you. Your whole body shakes and you feel the ache slowly seep through you.

Loki pushes himself off of you and falls beside. He laughs into a slow sigh, turns to his side and rests his head upon his raised knuckles.

His other hand moves your dress to cover you. You turn away from him pushing your face into the soft pillow, unable to look at him.

He hums as he slowly caresses your hair. Your eyes well up again and you feel a tear drop flow through the corner of your eye.

“Time will never forgive us, it will never let us forget what we are.” You wail in a near whisper.

“We know who we are.” His voice filled with reassurance.

“Our blood has already been tainted, dear sister. Nothing we ever do, can taint it any further.”

*

[walkswithmyfather]

John 14:15-17 (NIV). [15] “If you love me, keep my commands. [16] And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— [17] the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.”

Hebrews 4:14-16 (NIV). [14] “Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. [15] For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. [16] Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

“When We Are Lonely” by In Touch Ministries:

“On the cross, Christ made it possible for us to enter into a relationship with God—and now we are never alone.”

Despite the fact that technology enables us to stay connected with each other, many are still lonely. The real solution for healing the ache of isolation is an intimate relationship with the Lord.

As He was about to create Adam, God said, “Let Us make man in Our image” (Genesis 1:26). Humanity was created to commune with the Father. Adam and Eve had a close bond with the Lord, but their disobedience caused a rift in the relationship. Once sin entered the world through the first couple, every person born would be tainted with it and, consequently, would be separated from God (Isaiah 59:2). Yet because of His love, the Lord planned a way to bridge the gap between Himself and mankind.

Jesus took our transgressions upon Himself when He died at Calvary, wiping away the stain of sin. Whoever trusts in His sacrifice for the forgiveness of sin is able to traverse the gulf bridged by the cross. Each new believer is reconciled—that is, immediately restored to a right relationship with the Lord.

Reconciliation with the Lord means that we are never alone (Deuteronomy 31:6). We may still feel lonely on occasion, but God’s indwelling Holy Spirit (John 14:17) is our constant companion, and He will provide comfort to our heart.”

[dicentsalve]

Hey I really love your art style it's amazing... And since we had la squadra and l'unita headcanons may i ask for zucchero & sale headcanons?

I like the direction we're going

Thank you, bb!

I haven't really thought about them as much as I'd like, but I have a couple of notes

First of all, I'd like to note that these two work quite closely with Luka, receiving possible information from him due to influence and a certain power (I will also touch on Luka a little and note that every member of Passione knows and respects him, regardless of status within the family. I mean, boy at least passed Polpo's test and was left without a stand🧍)

Buuut not always they can pay for the services provided

● Sale

As I mentioned, he's Squalo's older brother and has been working at Passione longer, but he still hasn't been able to get higher (if we don't take into account the events of Vento Aureo)

Since I gave Squalo the peculiarity of unusual teeth, Sale has them too, but less expressed and not so noticeable. His central and lateral incisors are normal, but starting with the fangs, as they approach the edges, the sharp teeth become more expressed. Btw, this pisses him off.

Has impaired water exchange up to dehydration.

Doesn't have a driver's license. Can't drive, could I say, if close communication with Mario hadn't forced him to learn it.

For some inexplicable reason, I associate Kraft Work with a cactus (that's why in one of my old sketches Squalo calls Sale a cactus ass🧍), in connection with this: Sale loves cacti. And Mario, with his ridiculous clothes, btw, resembles a cactus. Maybe that's why they're still together.

Doesn't like fish very much, but eats it to annoy Squalo.

Obviously a Tuscan, like his brother, but he has no accent or dialect in his speech. He uses dialect words only for confidentiality or out of harmfulness.

Has a stand since birth, which is why, even in childhood, having mastered the stand, he became proud and impudent And was a bully in childhood 🫵

Based on the Kraft Work ability, I like to think that Sale has a slight peculiarity of "dropping out" of a conversation/situation and just staring at one point for some time.

Like Squalo, he also has problems with his parents. But for them, this is rather a huge ground for jokes than a burdensome problem.

● Zucchero

Mario isn't only an inattentive, careless person, but also has some problems with his eyesight. Not in the sense that he needs glasses, but he has "tunnel vision", which neither Sale nor Zucchero himself knows about, believing that everyone has it. So in order to concentrate on the road, he can't look away even a millimeter. Otherwise, he is a really good driver, who has saved them from total ass more than once.

Lefty.

Very hunched over.

Despite his last name, he is rather clumsy and slow (in general, everything that, ironically, a lack of sugar in the body leads to), requires more time to process information, which also infuriates Sale.

Quite often he goes to women, cuz of which he often doesn't get in touch and gets scolded by Sale for his recklessness.

He's involuntarily acquainted with Tiziano and already doesn't have the best relationship with him, although they have only met once.

Since Soft Machine uses a blade, Zucchero is very good with bladed weapons.

He likes decorative poodles (I won't explain it)

Lives with Sale cuz it's safer and cheaper (he's just too lazy to clean the apartment)

Often takes Sale in the evening after work to see the sunset (he forgets the way home)

And original of meme

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Four Names

A microfic written for Day 5 of Jily Week 2024, run by the very lovely @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee, and inspired by the theme Matchmaker, Matchmaker - a little push for our stubborn duo!

680 words

Rated G

Albus Dumbledore has an important choice to make...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, staring at the list in front of him. Four names, from which to make his choice. One by one, he considered them carefully.

Remus Lupin had the character, certainly, but Albus couldn’t help thinking that Remus had enough on his plate, what with managing the effects of the lunar cycle on his health on top of his N.E.W.T. workload. At times, Albus wondered whether his choice of Remus as a prefect had been too much; this would certainly be a step too far. 

Next, William Foster, of Hufflepuff. Albus made his decision quickly, though with more than a little regret. William would make an excellent Head Boy, but choosing a second muggleborn Head Student was more of a statement than he wanted to make, given the current political climate. 

Jonathan Corner wasn’t really a contender either. He was competent, efficient and (clearly, as the Ravenclaw prefect) extremely intelligent, but he was unfortunately somewhat abrasive, and lacking in the leadership qualities that Albus felt were so important in the role.

That only left Josiah Carrow. None of Albus’s other objections applied to the Slytherin prefect  - he didn’t have any health issues to consider, his pureblood status would satisfy the need for balance, and he was certainly the most natural leader of the group. Josiah was the obvious choice - and yet Albus hesitated. 

The problem was that Albus wasn’t supposed to know about the Carrow family’s close links to Tom Riddle. He wasn’t supposed to know that young Josiah had already been introduced to his inner circle. And he certainly wasn't supposed to know that Josiah would be taking the Dark Mark at a ceremony scheduled for some time in August, and would be a Death Eater himself by the time he returned to school in September. No, he wasn’t supposed to know any of it - but thanks to the latest intelligence received by the Order of the Phoenix, he did. And he couldn’t in all conscience pair his stand-out pick of a Head Girl, Lily Evans, with an actual Death Eater of a Head Boy.

So - what to do? Albus tapped his quill on the parchment thoughtfully, considering his options. He’d never chosen a head student from outside of his prefect group before, but perhaps, for once, it might be his best option. Was there someone else that would fit the bill? Someone who thrived on more responsibility, not less. A pureblood who wasn’t a blood fanatic. A charismatic and popular leader. When Albus thought about it like that, one name in particular suggested itself immediately; James Potter. 

Lily, of course, might have an entirely different set of objections to James as her Head Boy than she would if Albus were to appoint Josiah Carrow. Albus probably wasn’t supposed to know about that either, but wasn’t blind, and nor was he as unaware of the… less academic aspects of his student’s lives as many would have suspected. 

He’d seen their relationship change over the years, from indifference to antagonism and finally blossoming into friendship. Over the spring term, he’d noted the lingering gazes and sudden blushes and he’d wondered if he would soon hear murmurs that spring’s blossom had become summer’s blooms - but it hadn’t happened, not yet.

Albus would never, of course, appoint a pair of Head Students if he wasn’t totally confident that they were up to the job, but neither was he averse to finessing his selection if offered… other possible advantages. He generally kept it very well hidden, but the fact was that Albus Dumbledore was a hopeless romantic, and in this case, he couldn’t help but wonder if throwing the pair of them together in this way might not provide just the little push they needed. The more he thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea. 

Slowly, a smile spread across his face.  Decision made, he selected a fresh sheet or parchment, and began to write.

Dear James, Congratulations on your appointment to the position of Hogwarts Head Boy! Please find enclosed your badge…

[eastwindmlk]

“You drive me so insane, you don’t even know.”

Oh, this for Jily!

Thank you so much for this ask! I had a lot of fun trying something new here. This ask is inspired by this post and I am happy to receive new ones! And you can find the collection on Ao3

Without further ado, 1.3k jily spice (Which makes this a @jilymicro-oops) under the cut!

Lily had a habit, an innocent habit, of sitting on desks and tables and other things that were not intended for sitting when she was chatting with someone. James never quite took note of that until they were forced to share a desk in the head student office, which was more like a broom closet with a window. It barely fit the filing cabinet, chair and desk that were provided to them. Just to make it extra crammed, there was also a stool for the unlucky one to use while they tried to work together. 

Neither Lily nor he was particularly keen on said stool and since James had Quidditch before their scheduled meeting time, he often was the relegated to the uncomfortable seat. 

That was until Ravenclaw started to book the pitch at the times that James preferred to train, and suddenly he was early. Which was when he started noticing it. Instead of sitting on the chair, Lily would slide herself onto their desk, one hand curled around the edge. Her thumb often flicking at a piece of spell-o-tape that had once held down a sheet of parchment with the prefect patrols before they’d moved it to the wall to create more space to work. 

Everything about this was distracting. The flicking, her leg dangling off the other side, the way he could feel her breath so close. But the worst might just be the way she’d unbutton her blouse just enough for him to notice her bra or, more often than not, the lack thereof. 

It had made for a few awkward moments where James could not possibly get up and leave the cover provided by keeping his lower half under the desk. 

That is when he started noticing it happening all the time. Lily sitting on Remus’ desk while they worked together in class. On the library table when explaining something to a very eager looking third year. On the table in the common room while chatting with her friends. 

It was slowly driving him insane, the thought of her on a desk, sitting, leaning, laying, shirtless, skirt hiked up to her middle. He usually stopped himself from letting the touts get out of hand, he caught himself before it could get him into trouble. Maybe even more so now that they’d started dating, and he knew how the soft skin of her thighs felt, how she tasted on his tongue.

What he wouldn’t give to… No, he couldn’t go there, not now sitting in the office waiting for Lily to get out of choir practice. James knew he should focus on some homework or maybe get started on some of their tasks. Anything but the uncomfortable tightness in his trousers. 

James checked his watch. She wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes, that was plenty. That was luxurious even. He palmed himself through his trousers and decided that it was better for everyone’s sake that he’d get this over with. In the name of productivity, of course.

It did not take him long to cast a decently powerful muffiliato on the door and sink down into the chair, making himself comfortable. His head rested against the back of the chair when he pulled his cock from his trousers. Frankly, he thought there should be a law against being this easily affected. He would blame his youthful fertility or something to not feel completely and pathetically enthralled by his beautiful girlfriend. 

Still, as he strokes himself, Lily is all he can think about. The colour of her lips, the way she bites them and flutters her lashes at him. The way her hair curls on her collarbone and the way she would shake it back to grand his lips access to her. He could almost hear the little gasp she’d let out when his tongue skims the sensitive spot behind her ear or when he leaves love bites blossoming along her shoulder. 

James can almost imagine the perfume of her skin, the sweet, heady scent that promises a treat between her parted knees. He licks his lips as he moves his fist faster, seeking the friction he so desperately needs. Groans when he finds the right pace. 

Some day they will find the right time to test out just how sturdy this desk was, and James lets the thought of that consume him. Let his vivid imagination run wild. The heat curling in the pit of his stomach, slowly winding him tighter, inching him closer. 

“Fuck, Lily,” he moaned and moved faster, urging himself to finish when the sound of the door closing froze him in his tracks. His eyes flying open to see her standing there, her mouth open and her cheeks flushed. “Oh Merlin! Fuck, sorry… I- You’re early,” he stammered, sliding back into the chair and sitting up straight. 

How could he ever think this was a good idea? Did he even think of locking the door? How was he going to explain this? 

“Do you do this often?” Lily asked, every word drawn out like they were all a separate question? “I-i-is this what you do while waiting for me?” 

James shook his head frantically. “N-no, no, no, no. Uhm no. Not usually, I… thought you would be longer,” he stammered, feeling his face burn in embarrassment.

Lily’s eyes flicked from his face down to his hands covering his erection and hummed in answer. “Mhm, so that’s a no then?” To which he could only nod. “Alright, good to know. Shame.” 

The word took James aback. What did she mean ‘shame’? Was she telling him to be ashamed? It didn’t sound like it. Lily stood there, rolling her lower lip between her teeth, her hands gripping the edge of her skirt. She did not look angry, if he didn’t know better he’d think that she was aroused? That couldn’t be right. But what other explanation was there?

There was a beat of silence before James muttered, “You drive me so insane, you don’t even know.” His eyes dropped to the table to not have to see her reaction. 

“I don’t?” Lily asks, her voice a little closer already, her shape passed by the lamp and slowly her hands appeared in his vision when she leaned forward onto the desk. “James?” she asked, her voice practically a purr. 

“Yeah?”

“Is this a good time for a confession? Well, a suggesting more like. Preposition, if you will.” 

His throat bobbed, and for a moment James can only nod. “Sure?” he rasps and forces his eyes up to meet hers. He felt a little more comfortable seeing her twirling her hair nervously, her eyes barely meeting his.

James watched while her tongue swept along the curse of her upper lip, her eyes darted down and back up. “What would you say if I confessed to having thoughts about sucking your cock under this desk while you try to work?” 

His jaw went slack, of all the things that she could have said, this was not even on his list. James attempted to swallow away the dryness in his mouth while nodded slowly. “I would say that I will probably not stop thinking about that for a long time,” he decided, his voice thick with arousal. 

“Do you think that tonight might be a good time to…” 

“Yes,” he choked out instantly, not letting her finish her sentence. “I think that tonight is perfect for that. Brilliant, amazing,” the words dragged from his mouth before he puffed out a breath and rushed through the next words “Fuck, please don’t make me say more I am so ready!” 

Lily’s lips curled into that devilish smile of hers, the one that promised a good time. “Brilliant, then I suggest we get started on that schedule then.” 

[talonabraxas]

"He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself; and if you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you."― Friedrich Nietzsche

Red Spectral Dragon Talon Abraxas

Red Dragon is your Conscious Self - who you are and who you are becoming.

Red Dragon represents the root source of life, the nurturance and support of primary being, and within it are found the primal waters of unity. This is where your deepest roots receive true nourishment. Red Dragon is the energy of form contained within the formlessness of the primordial sea.

Primal trust means making choices with no guarantees, knowing that divine nurturance will provide what is needed for your journey. It means making choices moment by moment, implicitly trusting your innate steering mechanism of heart-knowing. Primal trust implies surrendering to the will of the divine self, letting go of what your ego deems to be control of the outcomes in your life. It means deeply trusting the processes that are at work within your present spiral of evolution.

The energy of Red Dragon asks you to embrace the depth of your receptivity. Perhaps you have been taught that it is better to give than to receive. Giving is a powerful way to learn how to receive, but it is not the whole picture. There is a circuit of completion in giving and receiving that happens within you and in your external world at the same time. If you trust unconditionally in the giving, you are not attached to how the gift is received. When you freely give, you fill your cup with sweet waters, which you can then offern innocently and purely to another. Know, on one level, that your gift is poured out universally regardless of how it appears to be received. However, when the gift comes from the ego, it is limited by expectations and conditions. Love just is. It is neither given nor taken; rather it is simply discovered and allowed.

The universe is an inseparable whole. Red Dragon represents the energy matrix lines that look like a web in the universe, through which all points are connected in time and space. This energetic web of communication is known as the 'crystal grid network.' It is a cauldron of creation, a potent field in which all things are not only possible but constantly being created. Within this grid, the linear causality of time and space has been freed into an open system in which all time and all space exist and interact simultaneously. This grid connects the larger holograms of reality with our own. Its energy lines connect all places, times and events - even those that are seemingly unrelated. All phenomena and all actions are part of this larger whole; it is the very foundation for telepathy and synchronicity. Red Dragon embodies unity, in which all things are one with the Source.

Red Dragon is also your Higher Self & Guide.

You are a double Red Dragon. When your Conscious Self and Higher Self are one and the same it means that you desire to embody all that Red Dragon is, completely and powerfully. Your SuperConscious is guiding you to trust in the larger pattern to provide what you need. Communicate your feelings, desires and dreams!

Yellow Sun is your Subconscious Self and Hidden Helper.

Yellow Sun is a reminder that you are, at every moment, in the center of All That Is. In your journey of remembrance, you are crafting a light body to return to a home in the stars that you never really left. Return as a child of the sacred to the Great Central Sun! You are the crown of creation, infused with the blueprint of solar mind. You are a Godseed, the reflection of cosmic consciousness. You are love made visible!

Discover the simple secret encoded in Ahau's star-glyph: you are unconditional love, the stone of indestructible liberation. Radiate that knowing in all your thoughts and actions. Love all of creation. Join the dance of light, the fundamental constant of nature, and shine forth the clarity of your true essence. There is great power in simply identifying with the light: "As above, so below." You are in God, and God is in you.

As you express unconditional love, you become more than you previously perceived yourself to be. You become illumined, the full manifestation of your divinity. In the embrace of your humanity, accept yourself and others unconditionally. Magnify your full presence. Ahau will come in myriad forms to assist you. Be limitless. Accept and understand the nature of judgement, fear, light and dark within yourself and others. Love and accept yourself and others as you are, freed from previous boundaries. You are the dawning of the solar age.

As you move toward your core of light, you will find a clear-light awareness that is innately innocent. In this place, the mind is restored to it's original state of receptivity. Clarity and freedom become expressions of being, and bliss becomes the body. At this core of light, a new reality is born. From the union of the divine masculine and feminine is birthed the solar androgyny of cosmic consciousness.

[mithrilhearts]

Maeve's 4k Follower Event

Battle of the Plot Bunnies

2024 has been a great year of finishing up fics for me, so it's time to unveil some new ones! I'm so excited to be able to do this, and have you guys help me essentially decide which fic gets tossed into the actual WIP pile next! Which is to say, THANK YOU for your continued support!

There are eight plot bunnies I've plucked from my Ideas list that I'm interested in developing further. Some of them have drabbles already, some have a little outlining attached, and some have barely even a working title.

Each fic will have a small summary and some bullets of information attached to it so you get an idea of what the plot/concept is!

✨ Feel free to ask me about any of those fic ideas for more information if you like! I will provide what I can!

First Round

Battle of the "Modern" ideas

Battle of the "Erebor Never Fell" ideas

Battle of the "Based on another story" ideas

Battle of the "Maeve's Choice" ideas

Semifinals

Battle of the "Cottagecore vs Dragons" Themes

Battle of the "Soulmate vs Time Travel" Tropes

Finals

Battle of the "Cottagecore vs Time Travel" Ideas

‼️Fic Summaries/Information below!‼️ All information below is subject to change as the fics develop

Modern AUs

Courtesy Call - Rated Explicit

While trying to make a most courteous call to pull his RSVP from his cousin's birthday party versus not showing at all, a misdial directs him to a particularly spicy line that's all about receiving a good time with oneself. The man on the other end is both baffled and challenged by a sudden new caller to his private line, but takes the challenge with everything his voice can provide. - Outdated Ficlet

Sweeter Than Honey - Rated Teen+

Bilbo Baggins runs a successful honey farm on the west side of the Brandywine River. His peaceful days of honey handicraft grow tense as a new logging company, owned by one Thror Oakes, draws closer to his land. It’s how he meets Thorin, a lumberjack living under the thumb of his grandfather, the owner. They should have been adversaries - the two are on opposite sides of nature, but as it is so often said: opposites attract. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Based On Another Story

No Place Like Home - Rated Teen+

Smaug the Terrible was destined to be slain by a hero in king's armor. To prevent such a fate to pass, Smaug, an enchanter of great power, invaded the kingdoms of Erebor, Dale, and the Greenwood, stripping its citizens of their memories, and taking the throne. Banishing the three kings in an attempt to secure his safety, Smaug took the best part of each king, making them more vulnerable than ever. No one was smart enough, nor brave enough, or had enough heart to stand in his way. Until a most unlikely creature tumbles in. - Influenced by Alice in Wonderland & The Wizard of Oz - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Forged in Dragonfire - Rated Teen+

Durin the Deathless is a legend to every dwarf that knows the tale. A king, a dragonslayer, and one who possessed great power to do so. The blood of the dragonslayer was to pass from firstborn to firstborn, but as the war calmed, such rumors fell to myth, and those myths became lost with time, even as Smaug sought retaliation some generations later. A retaliation that was deadly, just as it was successful. Erebor had finally fallen. After many years of hardship, a wizard shows himself in Ered Luin, seeking the only dwarf who might be able to rekindle a little dragonfire in his blood to take down one of the world's deadliest creatures. One who is hellbent on claiming every kingdom in Middle Earth beneath his claws. - Influenced by Skyrim - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Erebor Never Fell

Heartstones - Rated Teen+

It’s believed that dwarves are blessed in one of two ways: by their heartstone, or their heartcraft, both a calling of the soul. When Thorin is convinced he has neither, a quest for his happiness takes him far beyond the Misty Mountains to the West. It’s in the West that Frerin is convinced they’ll find Thorin’s calling. Be that a happiness of the heart or the craft. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Thief of Hearts - Rated Mature

Bilbo retired from his life of gentle burglary years ago to care for his ailing mother. With Belladonna's illness getting worse, he seeks out the aid of an enchanter, who is said to give people anything they want in exchange for a little task. Bilbo's task is to burgle one little stone from one lonely mountain under the nose of its king. Lucky for him, Erebor is preparing to host a grand party in hopes of finding a spouse for the oldest prince. It's the perfect distraction, and no one will see him coming.

Maeve's Choice

Twice In A Lifetime - Rated Mature

Just days before the siege on the Dimrill Gate, Thorin voices his guilt about his inability to keep his people safe when Smaug took the mountain. In the middle of an angry prayer to Mahal himself, the ringing of an anvil is the last thing Thorin remembers before waking up within the rolling green hills of the Shire. It’s there he’s greeted by a set of hazels he’d never forget. Not in this lifetime. - Outdated Ficlet

Wretched & Divine - Rated Explicit

After the battle, Bilbo continued to keep the Arkenstone close to his chest to protect those around him. He suspects that there’s more to this ‘Dragon Sickness’ than just the gold, and must figure out how he can save Thorin from his madness. All of this while trying to deal with the dwarf’s fascination with him with an intensity that rivals the obsession of finding the Arkenstone. Or: What if Bilbo had never given away the Arkenstone to Bard and Thranduil, and Thorin never kicked the gold sickness. - Outdated Ficlet

[berserklittlecook]

I've finished Terry Pratchett's "Death" sub-series and here's my thoughts on Susan&Lobsang:

Knowing Master Pratchett, he likely wouldn't continue their relationship. He doesn't seem to have liked doing so, like with Granny Wheatherwax in "Equal Rites".

But would it even make sense to do so? Afterall, he's mostly an anthropological personification of an abstract idea, and she explicitly doesn't like that sort of thing.

I think she was slowly coming around to the idea. She did think that her family might be normal afterall, on the last pages of her last book. "We instinctively rely on each other when in trouble and don't get in each other's way otherwise." She also seemed entranced by the idea of someone like her. Of course, Lobsang turned our much difficult than her, but the sentiment still stands.

I think she had a problem more with her grandfather personally than the occult itself. He did allow her parents to die, and then he isolated himself from her for years and years until he needed her. He does seem to treat her instrumentally, even if he does dawdle in smalltalk. He doesn't understand smalltalk. He doesn't understand humans, despite everything that happened.

But she is friends with many occult beings, boogeymen, tooth fairies, and so on. I think she find the most common ground with witches, who are trained to see what's actually there and aren't prone to strikes of fancy like wizards are.

Normal humans, she can't really see them as equals. Despite all her insistence that she's one of them, she doesn't have the same limitations as them, and she doesn't have the patience for them. That's why she works with children, I think, because she doesn't have to treat them as equals. And because she wishes someone had shown her what's really there before it had come knocking.

How does Lobsang fit into all this? He is her equal. He has powers she doesn't have just like she has powers he doesn't have. In some ways, he's her superior, as the "god" of time and all that. In other ways, he's a stupid teenager. I think he'd be open to both giving and receiving influence, like he had done with Lutsy at the end.

I think they do have a chance. Since the Master had all his notes burnt after his death, we are free to imagine whatever we want. I imagine they do work out. They meet in the middle - she, mostly human, reaching out into the occult, he, mostly occult, reaching for her intonthe human world. I imagine it's their own private slice of the world, neither here nor there, a common home they come back to after work.

I imagine they have children, who get into so much trouble as to provide us with new Discworld books forever, and then she retires and stays with him in a frozen moment of time. And then she decided to die, so she does, but she's still with him in that perfect frozen moment, because for him all moments are now.

[emp-t-man]

okay here’s the thing— i don’t think hilbert actually killed fourier and rhea, and here’s why:

yes. he did kill lambert and hui. we know that it’s because command insisted that he continue the human decima trials after fisher’s death, and since neither lambert nor hui had received the physical and immune system training that he had gone through, their bodies weren’t able to fight it off. but fourier… she didn’t die from the virus. she disappeared. the day after she was able to figure out how to wire the vx3 into lovelace’s escape shuttle. they never found a body. and rhea? she was deactivated only three hours before running the final calculations. and lovelace was right, these were definitely not coincidences. someone didn’t want them to leave the hephaestus. but why would hilbert want them to stay? there was no reason he needed lovelace alive. the door didn’t exist during that mission, and so hilbert had no reason to believe that command wouldn’t simply provide him with more subjects after this one was met with failure. hilbert himself wanted to get off the station and go home! he says so in episode thirty-one, where he admitted to contacting command fifty days before she left and suggesting that they terminate the mission! there was no logical reason for hilbert to resort to murdering in cold blood in order to keep lovelace on that station.

but.

there is someone else that would resort to such an extreme just to keep the hephaestus crew from returning to earth. someone who, several years later, was able to bend the laws of time and space to their will by creating a loop of an entire day just to ensure something would keep them in the same place.

“doug, are you seriously suggesting that the aliens were miraculously able to remove two entire people from existence without a trace?” you bet your ass i am.

here’s the thing: these guys are able to do pretty much anything they want. they’ve created human duplicates, they’ve created time loops, they use a god damn wormhole to transport humans to a seemingly entirely different plane of existence. if someone were to figure out a way to do something they didn’t like, they could very easily just,, make them disappear! just like lovelace assumed it was for hilbert, it was a last resort for them, and last resorts make people get sloppy!

another thing that makes me think hilbert wasn’t behind this in particular? lovelace stated in her logs that command stopped responding to their calls months before the day she died. just like cutter seemingly stopped responding to minkowski’s call for help four months before he arrived on the station. he was only able to actually make it to the hephaestus after eiffel and bob have their little heart to whatever-the-hell-bob-has. that also does not sound like a coincidence to me.

the aliens causing fourier and rhea to disappear also makes sense from a learning standpoint. after they made them go away, lovelace still managed to make it off the station, even if she died shortly after. having a little run-in with the indomitable human spirit like that would make sense as to why they would elect to simply have time repeat itself until someone did something stupid rather than only dwindling their recourses and letting them continue.

as we learned from kepler, this was far from the first time the aliens had done something to interfere with a hephaestus mission in order to attempt to start their process. why would they try so hard during zhang’s (and possibly several others’) mission and leave the crew entirely alone during lovelace’s, just to try and stir the pot again during minkowski’s run?

i dunno, it’s just a theory (a space theory), but i think it would make a lot more sense as to why lovelace’s mission went the way it did rather than simply “hilbert went crazy and pulled a wadsworth on everyone”

[sjsmith56]

Unfinished Business - A Private Man, Chapter 26

Summary: Tracey and Janice go missing, leaving Bucky to call in some extra help to find them.

Length: 5.9 K

Characters: Bucky, Tracey, Janice, Rhodes, Daredevil, Spider-Man, Tracey’s dad, Tracey’s former neighbour.

Warnings: Profane language, violence causing injury, racist and misogynist insults.

Author notes: Tying up a loose end with Janice’s ex and Tracey’s former neighbour getting their just dessert. Divider by vecteezy.com.

<<Chapter 25

That final week of 2024 was the week Bucky put his official notice in at the docks.  He never betrayed Rick's revelations to him about the future of the jobs at the docks.  Having worked for the man for a year and a half he had faith that the manager would make sure everyone there was given an opportunity to continue on where they were needed.  Matt Murdock came out to the docks on Monday, December 30th, had lunch with Bucky, and agreed to represent John Walker, promising to make sure the man was given every chance to redeem himself.  Bucky took the opportunity to ask if Matt was interested in becoming one of the Avengers.  A smile creased the lawyer's face before he shook his head.

"No, I think I do better dealing with issues on my own," he replied.  "I work too much outside of the law when I'm dealing with some of the lowlifes I've had to take on.  If you ever need me to have your back though, just call."

"My offer to treat your injuries still stands," said Bucky.  "Witch hazel is great for bruises and inflammation, especially if you wrap a cloth soaked in it around the injury.  That's free advice."

"I'll remember that," smiled Matt, then he put his hand out.  "It's been a pleasure helping you.  You're a good man."

"So are you," replied the super soldier.  "I'm leaving the docks, now that the Avengers are going ahead.  Tomorrow, January 2nd and 3rd are my final days.  You still have my number?"

"Yeah," replied the lawyer, standing up.  "I do."  He leaned down and spoke to Bucky in a voice that was low enough that only he could hear it.  "The Power Broker.  Is she on your radar?"

"She might be if she gets out of line," he replied.  "Why?"

"She provided some crucial information that was passed on to Colonel Rhodes, but it came with the proviso that the Avengers stay out of her business.  I think he agreed to her terms.  I'm not an Avenger and if she ever sets her sights on my beat, I won't ignore it."

Bucky smiled and nodded.  "No, you're not an Avenger.  She doesn't know about you.  Be careful around her.  She was on the good side once and knows how to exploit that."

With a nod Matt stood up, unfurled his white cane and left the café. Bucky finished his lunch, paid the tab, and headed back to finish out the day.  While he was finishing some paperwork, he received a text message from Tracey.

T: Just heard from my mom.  My dad signed the divorce papers.  She can sign them this afternoon at the lawyers.  Their house has sold.  She's finally free.

B: Good to hear.  What a good way to end the year.

T: She also let slip she's going out New Year's Eve with Rhodey to some Washington party.  Said not to expect her home until the 2nd of January.

Bucky remembered the talk with Rhodes about his intentions on Christmas Day.  Something told him that Janice was the one determining how their relationship progressed, which was fine by him. 

B: He's a good man.  I'm sure he'll use protection. 😉

There was no response for a time, and he wondered if he had stepped over a line, until he got her reply. 

T:  I better have the talk with her, just in case. 😜

He laughed out loud when he saw it, loving Tracey just that much more.  He sent her a kissing emoji as his reply and got back to his paperwork.  By the time he got out of there the weather had turned nasty.  Running a little faster he arrived home a little earlier but was surprised to see Amina still around but neither Tracey nor Janice was there.

"Oh, Mr. Bucky, you're home," she said anxiously.  "Mrs. Janice called to say she had car trouble.  Mrs. Tracey went to get her but that was an hour ago.  Neither one has called, and they don't answer their phones.  I didn't want to leave Mrs. Rebecca on her own but I'm sorry I have to get home to my children."

"Did Mrs. Janice say what kind of trouble?" he asked.

"No, but I don't think it was anything bad," said Amina.  She looked out the window.  "Perhaps it has to do with the weather.  Mrs. Tracey didn't think it would take her long to get her mother."

"Okay, you go ahead and go home," he said.  "I can call you a taxi, if you want.  I don't mind paying."

Amina agreed and a taxi arrived within ten minutes, which considering the weather was fast.  After he gave the driver enough to pay for her taxi Bucky began to wonder if something else had happened.  He phoned both Tracey and Janice, with neither answering their phones.  He called Janice's lawyer and learned she had signed the divorce papers that afternoon and was planning to drive home right after. 

Rebecca, who had been napping when Bucky arrived home woke up and came out of her bedroom.  She could tell immediately that he was worried.

"Why don't I go next door?" she suggested.  "I can stay with Tom and his wife while you go look for them."

"Okay, let me call him," said Bucky.  "Something's not right.  I can feel it."

After helping her over to the neighbour's house Bucky called Chris Brandon, the officer he had dealt with several times.  He explained what was going on and asked if there was any way he could help him find his wife and mother-in-law.

"Officially, no," he replied.  "Someone has to be missing for a full day before we become involved.  But as one law enforcement officer to another I can maybe get a trace going on their cellphones and see if we can locate them.  Are you giving me permission to trace their numbers?"

"Yes," agreed Bucky, giving him both phone numbers. 

It was about ten minutes later when Brandon phoned back.  "Both phones have been traced to a location in an industrial area.  I've already sent a unit over there just to see but it's going to take them some time to get there because of the weather.  I would like to give you the location of the phones, but you can't just go in there guns blazing."

"What aren't you telling me?" demanded Bucky.  "Please, Chris, Tracey is pregnant and if anything happens to her, I'll be a lot harder to deal with."

"Walter Steinhauer, the man who stalked her, was released on bail Friday," said Brandon.  "His cell mate at the Metropolitan Detention Center who paid the $100,000 bail, was Martin Harris, your wife's father.  He got out last month.  I understand your mother-in-law was divorcing him."

"He supposedly signed the papers this morning," said Bucky.  "Janice signed at her lawyer's office this afternoon.  If the women's phones are at the same location, they must be together but why are they in an industrial location?  It doesn't make sense.  Look, I don't kill anymore, Chris, but I can't sit by and let either of those men hurt these women if they're involved.  I'll call a friend for backup and if those men are holding them, they will be alive when you arrive to take them into custody, I promise."

There was a long pause before the police officer answered and gave Bucky the address of the warehouse.  Immediately Bucky hung up and dialled Matt Murdock, giving him the address and the details. 

"Matt, the men have to be left alive," said Bucky.  "I promised.  But I need you to back me up in case one of them tries to hurt either Tracey or Janice."

"I will," said Matt.  "I can be there in 20 minutes."

"Okay," said Bucky, "I'll meet you there."

Quickly, Bucky changed his clothes, putting his gear on, and bringing a couple of knives with him.  Then he began running towards the industrial area where the warehouse was.  He went his top speed, not wanting to waste any time getting there.  Right away he saw the SUV.  Brushing the snow away from the window and peeking inside the vehicle he saw two cell phones, presumably the women's.  He scouted the perimeter of the building determining the best way in.  His cell phone vibrated, and he took it out of his pocket, seeing it was Rhodes.

"Hey," he answered with a grimace.  "What's up?"

There was a pause.  "You tell me, you usually answer with your name.  I've been trying to phone Janice, but she doesn't answer."

Busted.  He sighed.  "Janice and Tracey are in trouble.  I think her ex and Tracey's stalker joined forces to take them.  I'm at a warehouse in northwest Queens, waiting for my backup."

"I'm on my way," said Rhodes. 

"No," cautioned Bucky.  "It will take you too long and he's not exactly legal."

"Bucky, don't tell me he's that vigilante from Hell's Kitchen."

"Okay, I won't tell you," replied Bucky.  "We won't kill them.  I don't do that, but the police are delayed because of the weather making the streets unsafe.  He was close and he's willing to help."

"Then you call Peter," said Rhodes.  "If he's there with you I can make a plausible case that it's a legitimate Avengers mission."  Bucky didn't answer.  "Buck, please.  Don't go off the books on this.  You'll set us back a long way if you go rogue now."

Bucky sighed.  "Alright I'll call Peter but if it looks like either of the women are in jeopardy, I'm going in.  I won't wait."

"Fair enough," said Rhodes.  "I'm still coming but I'll take a portal.  Your friend, he wants to remain anonymous?"

"Yeah, please," answered Bucky. 

"Okay, call Peter now."

Rhodes hung up and Bucky called Peter, just telling him to get over there as soon as he could.  When Murdock arrived, Bucky was aware of the smell of his aftershave first before the vigilante appeared beside him, wearing an outfit with a mask that concealed his entire upper face. 

"Slight complication," said Bucky.  "My Avengers boss called, and I had to tell him the truth.  He wants this by the books.  I had to call in Spider-Man for official backup."

"Peter? No problem.  We know each other.  I represented him before when he was accused of killing Mysterio."

"He knows about you?" asked Bucky.

Matt grinned.  "His spider sense is very good," he replied.  "He figured it out quickly."  He nodded towards the warehouse.  "Anything?"

"Yeah, they're in there but I haven't heard anything since I got here.  With Peter we can come at them from different directions."

Within minutes Peter arrived.  With a grin he greeted Matt.  "Hey Mr. Murdock, how's it been?"

"You know, saving the world, one false accusation at a time," he replied.  "You're here to make this a legitimate Avengers operation.  Do you know what we're up against?"

Peter looked confused.  Bucky shrugged.  "I just told him to get here as fast as he could.  Tracey and Janice are being held by a guy who was Tracey's stalker, and her dad, who's not a very nice man."

Suddenly all three men stopped as they each heard something from inside the warehouse.  Recognizing the sound of a man angrily yelling, Peter webbed up to the roof while Bucky and Matt prepared to enter from a doorway.  Bucky tested the door and found it was unlocked.  They both slipped in silently.

Inside the warehouse, both women were tied up with zip ties, sitting on a pile of pallets.  Martin Harris, a big burly man with greying hair was pacing back and forth, his face twisted as he spewed verbal venom at Janice.

"My signature on those papers means shit," he said.  "You're mine and you're going to stay mine, till death us do part, just like the vows."

"Dad, by now the police have been notified and they're going to come looking for us," said Tracey, keeping her eye on her former neighbour Walter.  "Not to mention my husband."

"Your husband," he sneered.  "That killer?  You married the Winter Soldier, a fucking assassin!"

His face was right in front of Tracey's as he screamed the words at her.  Then he slapped her twice, one of them with the back of his hand that rocked her and brought blood to her mouth.  Walter put his hand up tentatively, seemingly shocked at the violence of her father.

"Don't hurt her," he protested.  "I'd never hurt you, Tracey.  You know that.  I just want to take care of you."

"You helped him, Walter," stated Janice, her eyes steely.  "In the eyes of the law, you're just as bad."

Marty hit Janice with his closed fist, knocking her over to her side.  Tracey looked anxiously at her mother, noticing she was dazed.  Then she saw a shadow flicker near a set of offices and suddenly felt calm, somehow knowing that it was Bucky. 

"What a coward you are," she said to her dad, distracting him.  "You're pathetic, you know that?  Tell me, did your first wife actually die or did she leave you?"

"You know nothing about her," said her father.  "She was a good wife, never talked back, never challenged my authority, always followed my lead.  Not like this bitch.  Every time I had to discipline Janice she deserved it."

"Sounds like you treated both women like a dog," said Tracey.  "I can't believe you think that's what marriage is."

Suddenly, Bucky was there, standing between her and her father as he raised his hand to strike her again.  "I can't believe you think it's okay to lay a hand on a woman," he said, then he noticed Walter trying to back away.  "Don't you move, Walter.  You already know how strong I am, and I was gentle with you before.  You try to leave and you're going to get hurt."

"I didn't hurt either of them, I swear!" whined Walter.  "It was all him.  When he found out I was Tracey's neighbour he came up with this plan.  He made me pull some wires from his wife's car so it wouldn't work.  He knew Tracey would come to get her."

"You fucking blabbermouth!" yelled Marty as he made a move to hit Walter.

He didn't even get a chance as Matt tackled him from behind and began punching him.  Walter made another move to leave, and a web came down from the ceiling, wrapping itself around him as he struggled against it.  Bucky allowed Matt to deal with Marty as he kneeled in front of Tracey, cutting through her ties.

"I'm okay," she said gratefully.  "But I think he hurt Mom.  See to her."

With a nod, Bucky shifted his focus to Janice, cutting her ties.  She fell forward limply, barely responsive, and he picked her up, carrying her towards the office where he knew a high countertop was.  Laying her down on it he quickly examined her, calling her by name.  Tracey followed him and took over. 

"Call an ambulance," she said, after taking a closer look at her mother's pupils.  "I think she has a concussion."

Bucky pulled his cell phone out and went to the door that he and Matt entered.  He looked out just as Rhodes came out of a portal.  In the distance he could hear a police siren.  Pointing inside for Rhodes' sake he made the call for the ambulance and told the dispatcher to tell the police he had located the missing women, and the men who had abducted them.  Heading back inside he left Janice with Tracey and Rhodey, entering the warehouse portion where Matt had finished with Marty as Peter bound him with a web.

"Police are almost here," he said.  "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Matt.  "Abusers like him almost always don't hit back when someone stronger faces them.  I probably broke his nose, but he'll be alright.  How's Janice?"

"I've called an ambulance," replied Bucky.  "Tracey's concerned."  The sound of the siren was even closer, and Bucky put his hand out to Matt, knowing he had to get out of there to avoid questions.  "Thanks."

"No problem," said Matt, then he looked at Peter.  "Spider-Man, nice to see you."

"You too, Daredevil," replied the young man, as Matt disappeared, leaving through a doorway away from where the police approached.  He looked at Bucky.  "You want me to stay?"

Bucky nodded.  "Yeah, I'll let the cops know you're guarding them.  Remember, I'm the one that beat up Marty when he tried to attack Walter.  Thanks."

Returning to the office Bucky waited at the door then identified himself to the approaching officers as an Avenger, doing the same for Rhodes and letting them know Spider-Man was guarding the suspects.  As one of the policemen went in there the other approached where Janice was, watching as Tracey kept monitoring her.

"You call an ambulance already?" he asked.  "Who did this to her?"

"My father," said Tracey.  "She just signed the divorce papers at the lawyer's office this afternoon.  He had someone pull some wires so her car wouldn't start, making me come to get her.  When I arrived, he and the other guy, who had been previously arrested for stalking me, got into my vehicle, forcing us to drive here."  She gave a ragged breath then looked at the cop.  "I think he was planning to kill her and give me to the stalker."

"Why are the Avengers here?" asked the officer.

"She's my wife and the other is my mother-in-law," said Bucky.  "I knew something was wrong when they weren't home on time and pulled some strings to find out where their phones were.  I called my boss, Colonel Rhodes, and Spider-Man for backup.  Her dad is a violent man.  We got here just after he hit both women and tried to attack his accomplice when he disagreed with the violence.  I may have hit him back a bit too hard."

"Understandable," replied the officer.  "I'll just go and check on the other two and get Spiderman's statement."

"Who was that with you?" asked Tracey, in a low voice, when the officer was out of earshot.

"Matt," whispered Bucky.  "I'll tell you more later."

The two officers came out with both men, covered in web debris and their hands cuffed behind their backs.  Marty sneered when he saw Rhodes.

"You again," he said.  "You've been fucking my wife, haven't you?  You fucking ni...."  Without hesitating Rhodes punched Marty in the nose, bringing out a yell of pain then a demand from him.  "I want him arrested for assault!"

"What assault?" asked the first cop.  "You insulted the man and his lady, and he defended their honour."

"I haven't been with your ex-wife," said Rhodes, standing in front of Tracey's father.  "But I'll tell you something.  When she's ready I'm going to treat her like the queen she is, and I guarantee she won't ever give you a second thought.  You're a loser, Harris.  You had a beautiful wife and daughter, and you treated them like shit.  Now you get to do some real time.  Good luck with that."

The officer pulled Harris out and a whimpering Walter followed behind them, escorted by the second officer.  Peter was right behind them.  Bucky looked meaningfully at Rhodes who grinned slightly.

"Yes, I like her a lot," he said.  "We agreed not to do anything until her divorce was finalized.  Your mom is an amazing woman, Tracey.  I can see where you get your best qualities from."

At that moment the ambulance pulled up and the paramedics took over assessing Janice.  Since she was still dazed, they wanted to take her in to be assessed for a concussion.  Tracey gave Bucky the car keys while she asked to go with her mother to the hospital.  Remembering her phone was in the SUV he ran out to get it for her before she left.  Rhodes leaned over Janice and gently touched her cheek.

"We'll meet you at the hospital," he said softly.  "You're going to be okay, and Marty will never lay his hands on you again."

"James," she whispered, then smiled at him.

After getting the name of the hospital Bucky kissed Tracey goodbye and looked at Rhodes and the young Avenger.  "Do you need a ride home, Peter?" he asked.

"No, I'll go home the way I got here," he said.  "It would take too long by car for you to drop me off then go back to join Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Harris at the hospital.  She'll be okay.  They're both strong women.  They remind me of my Aunt May."

"Thanks for backing me up," said Bucky.  "I appreciate it."

"Anytime," said the younger Avenger.  "See you."

With a leap they watched him shoot out his webs in the falling snow, still amazed at how easily he could do that.  Getting inside the car both men took a deep breath before Bucky started it up and began driving.  Neither said anything for a good five minutes then Rhodes looked at the super soldier.

"How do you do it?" he asked.  "I wanted to pummel Marty when I saw how Janice looked.  Then he opened his mouth and I wanted to kill him."

"It's hard sometimes," replied Bucky.  "I'm a protective guy, always have been.  But I'm also very aware that with just one punch too hard I could lose all credibility in the eyes of the public.  Right from the moment I turned myself in after the Battle of Earth I've repeatedly told people that I don't kill anymore.  It's the price I have to pay to stay free and be able to look the people I love in the eye.  Having Tracey with me helps.  She's such a gentle caring person.  So is Janice.  I think you were right about them having the same qualities.  Maybe that's how she coped with that beast of a husband.  You meant what you said about Janice?"

"Every word," answered Rhodes.  "I sacrificed all sorts of relationships to the work and now here I am at 56, partially paraplegic, alone, and there's a beautiful woman who likes me and makes me feel good.  I'm going to do all I can to hold on to her and make her feel like she's special every day."

"You're 56?" asked Bucky.  "You should be looking to start slowing down."

"I will, once I get the Avengers up and running properly," he said.  "You're what, 110?"

"108 in March," smiled Bucky.  "But everyone tells me I don't look a day over 40.  I figure I have another ten to fifteen years in me of being an Avenger.  By then our kids will need to have a dad that can be around more.  With most of my settlement in investments I can probably step back and be there for them."

"You'll be a good dad, Buck," said Rhodes.  "I know the younger Avengers already look up to you and I've heard some good things about your volunteer work at the newcomer centre with the kids there.  In fact, we're writing in volunteer work as a requirement to be an Avenger in the future.  It's why Sam and I talked about you being in a leadership role.  What you've come through in your own life is inspiring, it really is."

"I don't like being put on a pedestal," replied Bucky.  "You know I tried to talk to Karli Morgenthau, tried to tell her how she was handling things wasn't the right way.  She called me old.  Said I should sit it out.  Makes me wonder if Ross tried to get her and her followers."

"He did," stated Rhodes.  "She and her followers were his first targets.  Thought he could buy them off like mercenaries.  She wouldn't have it and it made her even more militant.  The man was so single minded.  Couldn't see how his actions made things worse."

"He's still unrepentant, isn't he?"

"Yeah, still thinks there's a way out of this for him.  All it takes is a different man in the White House who agrees with Ross to give him a pardon and he's back in business.  That's why this version of the Avengers has to work.  If Ross ever gets out and regains his influence, we could be back at square one."

It was a warning that both men took to heart as they arrived at the hospital.  Checking in at the reception they were routed to the correct cubicle in the emergency room, where Janice was on a gurney, looking better but with a terrible bruise forming on her face.  Tracey hugged Bucky when they entered as Rhodes went directly to her mother.

"How are you?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"My head and neck hurts like crazy," replied Janice.  Gingerly, she touched her jaw.  "This is going to keep me away from the New Year's Eve party.  I can't go out looking like this."

"Then we'll stay in," he said, smiling fondly at her.  "It was just an excuse to show you off, you know.  They can wait to see the prettiest woman of my acquaintance."

She smiled and blushed, taking his hand in hers.  Bucky looked at Tracey, an idea forming in his head.

"Is there dancing at this party?" he asked Rhodes.  "Old school dancing?"

"Yeah," replied Rhodes.  "You want the tickets?  There will be some big wigs there.  Might want you for a few photo ops as many of them are fans of yours.  You can stay at my apartment."

"Are you sure you want to go?" asked Tracey.  "I would have to get something nice to wear."

"That's not a problem," said Bucky.  "I just had an urge to take you out dancing."

Her shy smile settled it, and Rhodes gave them his apartment key, choosing to stay in Brooklyn with Janice, expecting her to be released soon.  Bucky called a service for Janice's car to be picked up and taken to the repair shop.  When Janice was released, they all went to the SUV, and he drove them home.  After going next door to get Rebecca, Bucky took Tracey out to buy a dress before the stores closed.  They made some dinner, and the four of them had a relaxing evening. 

The following day Bucky worked at the docks in the morning.  When he got home after making a brief stop, he and Tracey packed an overnight bag then requested a portal to Rhodes' apartment in Washington, staying in his guest room.  When they got ready for the New Years Eve party Bucky pulled out a black suit, and shirt, both of them made of a very fine fabric.  Tracey was surprised at the sight of it.

"When did you get that?" she asked.  "I've never seen it."

"It was a gift from Shuri," he said.  "Thought it would go better with your new dress than my grey one."

Bucky had received a haircut on the weekend and went to shave but Tracey stopped him.

"Leave it," she said.  "I like it when you have a little bit of stubble."

Pulling her into his arms he kissed her on the lips, then moved down to her neck.  He could smell her perfume and he pressed his face into the soft skin.

"I like it when you wear that," he whispered.  "It's Beautiful, isn't it?"

"You should know, you got it for me," she smiled.  "Every time I wear it, I can hear your voice calling me beautiful."

"It's because you are," he said.  Then he let her go.  "We better stop, or we'll never get to the party."

Backing slowly away from him, Tracey undid her robe, revealing the daring underwear she was wearing.  He watched as she took her dress off the hanger and stepped into it.  Turning her back to him he came over and did up the back, stopping to kiss her neck and smell her perfume again. 

"Damn, you look even better in it than when you tried it on," he whispered.  "Hold on a moment."  Retreating to his dress jacket he pulled a small box out and brought it over to Tracey, opening it to reveal a pair of diamond stud earrings.  "I picked these up today before I got home.  Wanted something for you to wear that went with the dress."

"Bucky, you didn't have to get me these," she said, gently touching them.  "They're much too expensive."

"Just in case I don't tell you enough how much I love you, you can look at these and know how I feel every time you wear them," he said, kissing her again.

"You're a beautiful man," Tracey whispered.  "I know that just with how you look at me.  Thank you."

He watched as she put them on, then finished dressing himself, earning a compliment from her on how stylish he looked.  Pulling his phone out he called an Uber and picked up the tickets on the kitchen counter.  When their driver texted them that he was there Bucky helped Tracey on with her coat and they stepped out into the night air.  Their driver did a double take when Bucky got in.

"You're Bucky Barnes," he said.  "Wow.  Would you mind if I took a selfie with you behind me?"

"Go for it," said Bucky.  "Just get us to the hotel in one piece and on time."

The driver snapped the picture and put the car into gear.  There was a long line of taxis, limousines, town cars and other ride services dropping off passengers at the hotel.  When they got to the door a doorman opened their door and offered his hand to Tracey as Bucky got out on his side.  He took Tracey by her hand and began to walk in.  Right away they were noticed, and photographers began taking photos of the couple, calling on them to stop and pose.  Ignoring them just like everyone else they stepped inside and were directed to a coat check for Tracey's coat.  From there they joined the line of people into the event, handing the doorman their tickets and being directed to their table.  Two other couples were already seated, a Department of Justice lawyer and his wife, and a Marine Corps chief warrant officer with his wife.  After introductions were made Bucky got up to get himself and Tracey a drink.  The other two men joined him, and they waited in line at the bar together, chatting amiably.  Bucky couldn't help but notice their attention go to his left hand, but he said nothing.  Finally, the chief warrant officer raised his left pant leg, showing Bucky his prosthetic leg.

"I've been stuck behind a desk for six years because of this thing," he said, then he gestured at Bucky's arm.  "The worst is when I feel like I have to scratch an itch.  It just about drives me crazy.  Can I ask you truthfully if you still experience phantom pain?"

"No, I don't," said Bucky.  "But every once in a while, I wake up with it around my dick, which is weird because I'm right-handed."

Both men looked at him with their eyes wide open then the chief warrant officer started to laugh.  "You're full of shit," he said.

Bucky shrugged.  "Had you going though," he grinned.  "What are you drinking?"

They both told him, and Bucky ordered the drinks for everyone, paying with a tap of his bank card then leaving a twenty-dollar bill in the jar as a tip.  By the time they got back two more Marine warrant officers with their wives, friends of the chief warrant officer, were there and more introductions were made.  It turned out all three military men were long time friends who enlisted at the same time, coming up through the ranks together, an unusual thing.  All three had been sergeants at one point and met at this party every year to blow off steam, as they were now relegated to desk jobs until mandatory retirement.

Dinner was punctuated with conversations about missions, people they had served with, and places they had been.  Tracey watched as Bucky let the conversation ebb and flow, occasionally asking questions for verification or emphasis.  When the dishes were cleared, and the band started to set up the conversation turned to him and although he answered questions about the Howling Commandos no one brought up the Winter Soldier, until the slightly drunk lawyer asked how he seemingly survived with his sanity intact; how he didn't put a bullet in his own head at some point.  The chief warrant officer looked a little angrily at the lawyer, having had a few drinks himself and he turned to Bucky.

"Sarge, you don't have to answer him," he said.  "We three have been there at one point or another, wondering if what we went through was worth it all.  I stay because of this beautiful woman who still loves me, and these two assholes that won't let me go.  You have nothing to prove to us."

Smiling slightly, and patting Tracey's hand, which had gently been placed on his when the lawyer asked his question, Bucky cleared his throat and looked at the lawyer. 

"I ask myself that every day," he said, not really angry at the question because he knew so many people wanted to ask but were afraid to.  "A whole life was stolen from me and when I got free there were times I wanted to put a gun in my mouth and end it but then HYDRA would have won.  I'm just asshole enough to want to prove to them that I'm still here, doing some good in the world, and they're not.  So, every morning I wake up and I see this beautiful woman beside me, and I thank the universe for bringing us together.  With her I'm going to have the life I want; a house, a family, and people who love me for the man I am, not for what my abilities can do for them."  The music started and Bucky stood up with Tracey then he turned back to the others.  "In the words of Auntie Mame, who my 94-year-old sister so happily quoted a few months ago: "Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."  Gentlemen and ladies, I'm no sucker.  I'm going to have my fill of life and I've only just begun."

With a smile to them he led Tracey to the floor and began dancing as the band started playing "The Way You Look Tonight." The several hundred people at that Washington New Year's Eve party that night all noticed the tall, muscular and handsome man dancing with the beautiful, dark-haired woman.  Word had already gone around that it was Bucky Barnes and his wife.  Together they glided effortlessly over the floor, so obviously in love, with their eyes only on each other.  If there were any negative whispers about what he once was the couple ignored them.  What mattered to them was the here and now, and for several hours they just danced.  It's what they came to the party to do.

Chapter 27>>

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[mikazuki1709]

Couple things | Ratiorine Fic

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Ship: Dr. Ratio/Aventurine, Ratiorine

Rating: G

Words: 2.456

Tags: Amusement Parks, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Soft Dr. Ratio, POV Dr. Ratio, Teddy Bears, Fireworks

Summary: Aventurine has never been to an amusement park in his life, so Ratio puts aside his own dislike of such places to treat his gambler to a special date.

Preview:

“Ratio?” 

The addressed man looked up from the book he was just reading. He was sitting on his sofa, right next to the smaller blond man who had just now called his name.

For some reason, Aventurine loved to make himself so small between all the pillows of the sofa that it almost looked like the piece of furniture was about to swallow him. He was sitting with his knees comfortably drawn up towards his chest and holding a magazine in front of his face, so all Ratio was really able to see of his boyfriend were his feet in his fluffy wool socks and his wheat-coloured hair. But Ratio knew the kind of voice Aventurine had used just now. It was the kind of voice he switched to when he wanted something. A sweet sound, for it was a rarity that provided Ratio with the opportunity to fulfill one of his beloved’s wishes. But at the same time, a slightly dangerous sound, too - for as rare as Aventurine’s wishes were, they also had a tendency to be a little special.

Still, he bravely asked: “What is it, my dear?”

Even now, months into their relationship, the naturality with which the pet name came over his lips, amazed him. Who would have thought that he might ever get so soft for somebody else?

Aventurine adjusted the position of the magazine in front of his face, allowing for Ratio to take a look at his pretty eyes.

“Have you ever been to an amusement park?”

An unpredicted question, as expected. Ratio assumed that he would find the answer to his own question - the one about how this topic had found its way into Aventurine’s head - in the magazine he was holding, but for the moment, he still owed his partner an answer. 

“Of course.” he said, only to internally scold himself for his arrogance just a moment later. 

Of course a privileged child from a family of academics had been to an amusement park before. And of course a poor Avgin child had not. Neither before the genocide of his people, nor after his enslavement later on. 

You’re such a fool , Ratio cursed himself.

“Was it fun?” As usual, Aventurine did not seem to take any offense in his lover’s inconsiderate words. There was genuine curiosity in his question.

This time, Ratio thought about his answer more thoroughly.

In fact, he had been to an amusement park exactly one time. His parents had taken him to one when he had been a child, very likely because they thought that it was an experience that should be part of a happy childhood.

It had not been to little Veritas’ liking. He had not been interested in the many rides and he still remembers how much the loud music coming from cheap speakers all over the place had irritated him. He had tried out everything though - roller coasters, merry-go-rounds, bumper cars - because he had not wanted to disappoint his parents, but actually, he can still recall how relieved - and exhausted - he had been when they had finally left the park in the evening.

He tried to come up with a diplomatic reply for Aventurine who was still looking at him with curiosity: “I'd say it did not really align with my personality back then, but it still was a worthwhile experience.”

Aventurine's first reaction was to nod. “I see.” he said and buried his face in his magazine once again. Ratio decided to give him a moment, but when he still did not receive any answer a minute later, he sighed. 

Wrong reply , he scolded himself. Obviously, his words had discouraged the gambler, who was a master in reading Ratio’s feelings, to go on with his initial request. This was not what the doctor had wanted, so he now extended a hand to reach out for the magazine Aventurine was hiding himself behind. 

His partner looked a little surprised when he felt how the magazine was taken away from him, but he did not object, so Ratio continued and took a look at the open page himself. 

As expected, it was an article about the new amusement park which had just opened in Pier Point. While it was written from a business point of view, exploring the financial possibilities such a venue offered in this part of the town, it also provided some photos of the main attractions of the park. Just like back in Ratio’s childhood days, everything looked colourful and flashy, and as much as he personally disliked hustle and bustle like this, he could really imagine it to be something Aventurine might enjoy. 

Yes, he decided, this definitely was something the gambler should experience at least once, and if that meant that Ratio would have to visit an amusement park for the second time in his life, this was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“If you really want to visit this place, I will of course accompany you - you know that, right?” Ratio said, looking right at Aventurine. It was one of the first lessons he had learned in their relationship: always watch this man's reactions carefully if you do not wish to miss his true feelings. 

[...]

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