#how could anyone mishear this

[blorbosexterminator]

For all there is negative to say about the spin-off and Berlin I at least have the comfort to know that Pina would never mischaracterize and misrepresent Berlin as the fandom did when everyone just decided to shut their eyes and ears in the Viking Gold scene and instead assumed the exact opposite of what happened. Just completely ignoring what Andrés literally said in the scene so just they would have a "at core Martín and Berlin are actually the opposite uwu and Martin is so much better" when the scenes were literal direct parallels of each other and where Andrés and Martín said the exact same things just about different cultures and different groups of people

[madamechrissy]

Ex Husband Toji

MDNI- NSFW- explicit sex, dirty talk, oral (m and f recieving) lil bit of rough sex, Toji calls you doll and Mama, creampie, breed kink, reader is Megumi's mom and Toji needs another kid lol

Ex Husband Toji who you're so mad at, because he's late picking up Megumi for his day to take him to school again, so you decide to go directly to his house, banging on the door.

Ex Husband Toji who overslept after working all night, and feels awful he's fucked up again, but when he sees your cute little scowl, he's instantly turned on, because fuck he misses you so much.

Ex Husband Toji who smirks, licking his full lower lip as his dark green eyes drink you in. 'still in your pajamas, huh doll?' earning you shoving at his chest now, crossing your arms. 'was supposed to be your day to take Gumi, no I wasn't dressed!' Toji really likes this crop top, the strap hanging off your bare shoulder, your nipples perk up as he stares, earning a smug grin

Ex Husband Toji laughs as he says 'could've just told me you wanted to get off, y'know' earning your smack on his cheek, which really just makes him hard for you as you stomp in his house. He's shirtless and in sweats, you're trying to avoid looking at his chiseled, muscular body because if you stare too long you'll remember how good he fucked you, so you cross your arms, glaring and say 'I actually have a date tonight, Toji'

Ex Husband Toji scowls now, stepping up to you, he's so big he takes over the whole little home it seems, his big rough hands gripping your bare waist, thumbs pressing against your rib cage. 'what's that now, doll? I must've fuckin misheard' you scoff, shoving his hands off 'didn't mishear shit, we're done you know that' he yanks you to him now, and when you're pressed against his body? your brain short circuits as he leans down so close you taste the cigarettes on his breath

Ex Husband Toji slams his lips on yours, you feel that scar rubbing against your mouth, as his tongue devours you, lapping in and out so fucking messy. No one fucking kisses you like that, no one can do this to you, but you can't fuck him again, this keeps happening and you have to move on. You back away then, panting, eyes locked on his, and then he says it 'I fuckin miss you, so much y'know that? miss you cummin on m'face'

Ex Husband Toji may or may not then have your thighs spread on his kitchen table, he may or may not have your sleep shorts yanked to the side, and he may or may not have his face buried between your thighs. He's lapping you up, tasting your sweet arousal all over his mouth, as he looks up under sooty lashes. Your hands yank his inky black hair as you gasp, while he fucks your gummy walls so goddamn well, crying out 'still h-hate you, T-Toji' earning him leaning back with a devious fucking grin, as he smacks your cunt.

Ex Husband Toji who watches you tremble and whimper as he spits on your clit, watching the bubbly liquid drip between your lip, slipping two thick fingers into your tight little hole, cock throbbing under his sweats as he remembers how good you feel clenching him. He's not been with anyone else, how could he? 'T-Toji, f-fuck!' you're screaming his name, eyes rolling back while he scissors those fingers in and out of your soppy little hole, which flutters around them. 'ya gonna cum f'me doll? let me see it... there ya go'

Ex Husband Toji Has you cumming all over his fingers, white hot stars blinding you, as it washes all over, no one could do this to you, and soon he's got you turned and bent over the table, legs dangling pathetic as he slides those slutty grey sweats down, releasing his thick heavy cock, that shoves in your soaking wet cunt, stretching you so good. 'Ah! oh my god!' you have tears in your eyes as he grips your hips, begining to fuck into you, slamming your cervix as his balls smack your little twitching clit

Ex Husband Toji loves how you feel so much, muttering 'f-fuckin missed this, missed your cunt gripping me... cum on doll, cum again lemme feel her' you need no urging, you're pulsing around his cock in the middle of his messy ass kitchen, on his old table scattered with cards and gambling tickets. He shoves your head down as he grips a wrist, pulling it behind your back and bottoming out, stuffing you so full you're soaking him completely, gasping for a breath.

Ex Husband Toji who busts inside you, muttering 'need a lil brother or sister for Gumi, don't we, mama?' and you're just nodding weakly, feeling his load so deep inside you, fucking up your guts as he's still fucking into you, he tilts your chin, slamming his lips on yours as he leans over you, big hands taking over your body, cock twitching in you. 'stop this shit, come home' he whispers, you pull away then, on trembling legs, glaring up at him.

Ex Husband Toji hopes he knocked you up again as you go off on him for being late, as you act like you're going to leave, only for you to be on your knees sucking yourself off him, and as he's fucking your throat he's pretty damn sure you're not going on any date at all

permatag list: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric 🩵

I NEVER write for Toji anymore and I love him!? Lmk if you want more Toji content or more ex husband Toji lol

[cloudcountry]

I've discussed this with a mutual but I really need to read it: I'd like to request a confession scenario with Jamil where he goes through the 5 stages of grief.

Basically Jamil is fell head over heels into the Mariana trench but forgot that De Nile is a river in Egypt and pulled a page out of Kalim's book by being purposely oblivious about his own feelings.

The poor reader is also very much in love and has pining for WEEKS. One day, they decide to just tip the band-aid off. The pair are in the kitchen hanging out as usual when the reader turns to him and goes "I'm in love with you. You don't have to say anything and you can pretend this never happened. I just want you to know"

They're expecting a rejection but Jamil just stares a freezes for a good three minutes. While the reader is panicking trying to get him to snap out of it, Jamil is going through the 5 stages of grief.

Ultimately, Jamil's thought process ends with "If we don't kiss in the next 5 seconds I'm overblotting again" and the intrusive thoughts win.

SUMMARY: you confess to jamil. he doesn't know how to respond until he throws his inhibition out the window.

COMMENTS: I LOVE THIS REQUEST??? i decided to play off of the actual stages of grief for this even though its an expression hehe

“Jamil, I like you.”

What.

“Actually, no, I’m...I’m in love with you. And it’s okay if you don’t, it's okay if you don’t say it back, I just wanted you to know.”

What!?

Jamil stares at the fridge in front of him, mind blank except for your words. They repeat over and over and every emotion ever swells up in his chest because what!?

Since when? Why? What did you see in him? What did you see in your future with him? DId you even see one? Did he mishear you? Did you mean to say that to someone else?

No, there’s no way you did. You two were the only ones in the kitchen at the moment. Grim was outside in the living room, talking to the ghosts about something or other and why would you even say something like that to Grim anyway?

Denial.

You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you meant it. even after he overblotted and threw you to the other end of his dorm? Even after he showed you all the ugliest parts of himself, the parts of himself that nobody ever should have seen because he wasn’t supposed to be a person, only an aid?

And he certainly didn’t like you back. It’s not like he wanted to do things for you to make you happy, it’s not like he got the slightest bit jealous when he saw you hanging out with Kalim, it’s not like he wanted to monopolize all of your time so nobody else could have it.

Okay, so he was lying to himself. Great. He can deal with this for sure.

Anger.

It’s so unfair. It’s so unfair. If it wasn’t for Kalim and his parents and this suffocating life he’s sure he’d be able to accept your confession in a heartbeat. He’s sure he’d be able to comprehend his own emotions and bring you into his arms. He’s sure he’d be able to process his own emotions and be the partner you deserved, without all the jumbled mess that is his rage and jealousy and resentment.

He didn’t want to be someone else, he just wanted a different life. He just wanted to be free, to be able to exercise his own pure talent, to be able to rise above everyone else.

Bargaining.

He wished there was some way to make that reality for you two. He didn’t want you to go be with anyone else, the very thought of it made his stomach turn and his heart brim with anger. He was a selfish, jealous person, but you loved him. How could he make this work? How could he keep you in love with him, keep you by his side, keep you controlled? Did you have to be controlled? You started liking him of your own free will, maybe he didn’t have to do anything.

But falling for him was one matter, staying by his side was another.

Depression.

There was no way this was going to work.

He had to find a way.

He couldn’t find a way.

There had to be a way.

His mind is moving too fast for him to keep up and he’s still staring at the fridge, and your voice is calling his name and you look so worried, your visage in the corner of his eyes swirling. It’s like he’s not even rooted in reality anymore. How can he make this work? It almost feels hopeless...but Jamil is anything but a quitter. He’s never given up before, and he’s not going to start now.

Acceptance.

“Jamil?” you say for what feels like the hundredth time, your hand resting gently on his shoulder.

He’s still not responding. Oh fuck, you didn’t think confessing was going to mess him up this much. If you’d known that, you wouldn’t have said anything and just kept it to yourself forever.

He murmurs your name and finally, finally turns to look at you. His hands grab your shoulders and he meets your gaze, pupils dilated and eyes wide.

“Be mine.” he says, and your heart flutters at how serious he sounds.

“J...Jamil?” you squeak, pliant in his arms and he pulls you close, clinging to you like he never wants to let you go.

“Be mine.” he repeats, words muffled in your shoulder, “I will...always do my best for you. Always. I don’t want you going to anyone else.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone else.” you murmur softly, placing a hand on the back of his head as he crushes you against him.

He shifts, bringing his face close to your neck. You barely have the time to wonder what he’s doing before he kisses the junction between your shoulder and neck, a soft smack of lips roaring in your ears.

“Good.” he replies, the word a hot gust of air against your skin.

[soap-ify]

mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

05 — i'll meet the judgement by the hounds.

chapter summary — a fool and a coward, that's the realisation you had come to.

tags / cw — no smut, fluff, a bit domestic honestly, basically reader's drunk and simon takes care of you, bittersweet, simon opens up... a bit, angst, suicidal thoughts, very subtle religious references if they even count as one, simon's in denial and reader is on the verge of losing it all. [4k words]

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

Simon had come to the conclusion that you were a snake, and your love was your poison. Maybe he really was a coward for being afraid to let your venom drown into his veins.

“Remind me to never take you out for drinking again.”

If it weren’t for Simon holding you carefully against him and walking through the street, you’d surely have collapsed on the ground all drunk and worse, thrown up by now.

It was a little mistake. One drink became two, and then three. You had forgotten about your tolerance, and here you were now. It’s all because of Simon. That’s what your excuse was, blaming it all on him. Which was true in all honesty, you had gotten too excited about this little hangout.

“You’ll never go out with me again?” Completely mishearing his words, you looked up at him with wide eyes, tears already approaching. Yeah, you were completely drunk. Simon froze, his heart tearing at the sight of your incoming tears, even if they were just due to your emotions being all over the place now. Emotions that had always been there, hidden deep within.

His first instinct was to ignore your words and just keep walking, his heart begging for him to comfort you. But again, how does a killer comfort an angel? How would the moon comfort the ocean, while being so far away?

“I didn’t say that.” He gruffly replied and continued to look ahead, not daring to meet your eyes anymore.

O Angel, let me fall on my knees, kiss your fingers, and weep for forgiveness. So you may hold my absolution, and make me man again.

“C’mon, we gotta take you home.” Simon internally cursed himself for not taking you both to the bar in a car. He hadn’t considered the possibility of you being a drunk mess. Do I ever consider anything?

“No!” Your loud whine echoed in the empty pavement, and he could barely hold in a chuckle, deciding to bite his bottom lip beneath his mask. “Can’t we spend more time together, Si?”

I’d spend a lifetime with you. But god forbid he ever said those words. Not to you, not to anyone. “S’not like m’gonna die or somethin’, or that you’ll never see me again.” Simon grumbled and tightened his hand around your waist, accommodating your wobbly body, guiding you.

Simon wished he could take your hands and sway around with you, let both of you move into a sweet dance, with the stars praising you. A performance for the cosmos. He wished he could hold you when you throw yourself over him, to let you never escape his embrace. Lovers forever tangled.

He wished.

He wondered what something like that even would look like. His dad never danced with his mother. He remembers his mother looking at him, holding in her tears and forcing a smile. “I promise your dad loves me, just as much as I love him. He's just… exhausted nowadays.” He wished his mother didn’t consider him a naive — a child.

Simon doesn’t think he was ever a child. A child is innocent, his very first cry was a sin.

“Simon?” Your voice snapped him out of the reminiscence he was trapped in. He let out a soft grunt, urging you to continue.

“Have you… Have you ever seen a ghost?” You burst into laughter at your own poor attempt at the joke, a rapid change of emotion, though in your defence, it’s definitely very funny. Your free hand tried to wipe the tears as you continued laughing, and Simon swore that this was truly the angels’ hymn eliciting from your mouth.

“Do I count?” He grinned behind his mask, the side of his eyes crinkling a bit. You quickly shook your head and stared at him with determined eyes, fully set on your question. “In that case, no. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one, love. But if I do, I’ll make sure to tell ‘em you said hello.”

If it was someone else like Kyle or Johnny who would be laughing about this joke, Simon was sure that he would have said something snarky or just straight up ignored them. But not with you, never with you.

“You’re the best.” You beamed, his heart squeezed painfully.

“We’re almost there.”

Upon arriving at your apartment complex, he dropped you off outside your apartment’s front door, the only thing in mind being to flee quickly so your sweet smile doesn’t taunt him anymore. Though he simply couldn’t, your fingers not letting go off his forearm at all. Too exhausted to figure out if it was intentional or not, he sighed under his breath and turned over to face you, brown eyes having a slight shine in them due to the hallway’s light.

“C’mon, you gotta go in and rest.” He couldn’t figure out why his breathing was falling short. Was it the alcohol? He barely drank anything.

You, on the other hand, tried your best to not look up at him and meet his eyes, knowing that it would shut you up. Like the intimidating gaze of a god, a warrior. You had to speak your mind, had to know about something, to ease the storm in your head.

“Are you getting bored of me?” These words slipped out of your lips as a meek whisper, forbidden.

It was a sickening feeling that ensued within Simon after that, as if something was grabbing his heart and trying to rip it out of his chest. Inhale, exhale. He didn’t know what exactly horrified him. Probably the fact that he knew what had caused you to think like that. The perfume.

O Angel, let me carve my heart out with a knife and hand it to you as an offering — apology. So may your hands embrace it and take me home, with thee. So may your fingers caress my cheek once again, and let my blood paint my skin.

“No.” He was embarrassingly quick to reply, fingers curling up into fists by his sides as he inhaled sharply. How could he put such thoughts into your head? How could I? Only a devil, the most evil being, could commit such atrocity.

You paused at his words, not knowing what else to say. No? Then why was that perfume there? You didn’t want him to think you were dumb enough to not notice that. “You’re lying…” Your voice cracked, and it was no longer the alcohol playing you like a puppet. It was you now. You felt like your own marionette. Stop speaking, fucking stop. “I am not dumb, Si. I saw that p-perfume on your couch the other day. Is that why you got mad at me?” God, stop talking please. “You could have just… said that you prefer other girls. Am I… Am I making a fucking fool out of myself here?” It terrified you, your own emotions terrified you. Your voice was rising just a bit, and all your feelings had their hands wrapped around your throat. Controlling you. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to say it out loud. You weren’t used to being so open about your mind, and now you felt like nothing but a cat shivering under the rain — alone and abandoned. Vulnerable, naked.

Maybe you and Simon weren’t so different after all. Vulnerability — just why did it terrify humans? Were the angels and the gods just as opposed to vulnerability?

“Oh, l-” Love. It almost slipped off his tongue, and he didn’t know if you even wanted him to call you that right now. The thought alone made him shudder uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do — stuck in between two roads. Should he lie? Or tell you the truth? — That it was just one time, a drunken act that is nothing but lamentable to him.

Why were you both even acting like an actual couple right now?

He swallowed the lump that threatened to torture his throat, exhaling softly. “I was drunk, and it happened. She probably left her perfume accidentally.” He spilled the truth out. Just the way a mature person would. Don’t be fucking daft, Riley. His eyes assessed the subtle twitch of your brows at that, your lips quivering. He wished he could just lean in and kiss all the tears away, despite them not having landed on your cheeks. Hopefully they won’t.

“Oh…” Your response was too short, unsure and reluctant. It made Simon feel as if he had sinned once again, chains threatening to drag him into the darkest depths of Hell. Home — the one he was familiar with.

You swallowed nervously and looked down at your feet, your hand long having stopped holding his arm. Instead, your fingers were fiddling with one another anxiously. Why did you feel as if you were betrayed? A desperate cry for love, you wished you could say it to him. To his face, sob and scream about what you felt. He was the only one who understood, who was willing to understand. He was the only one who ever was, and who ever will be.

The agreement. It was no longer just fucking, it never was. Not since the day you saw him with Kyle, not since the day he talked with you after Kyle gestured at you. Never. Could he also see it all the way you did?

Your silence was a clear indicator of the fact that you were lost in your thoughts now. Simon’s eyes softened up, and before he could think rationally, his body reacted on its own and embraced you tightly against his chest, strong arms wrapping around you protectively.

“Fuck…” He cussed under his breath, despising how his voice was thickening up with emotion. He hugged you like an old dog messily giving affection to its owner. My angel, my angel. I sinned, I have sinned. I am sorry.

He pulled you impossibly close, as if wanting to mold his body into yours, to become one. He could be with you forever in that way, to be your breathing and you his heartbeat.

You didn’t even feel confused at his rapid action at all. Just broken, so broken. He was the hammer that had finally hit the dam, and broke it. “W-Why?” Your voice wavered and mixed into a sob, your hands tightened holding onto him, fingers threatening to dig deeper as you let your head rest against him, tears tickling your skin. “I am so tired… So tired, Si. I hate you…”

“Do you want me to leave?” His hold tightened despite his words.

“No.” Your words came out a bit more forcefully than you had intended, too anxious to let him go. You felt his right hand leaving your back, a soft whimper leaving your lips once you felt his lips, bare and real, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, soon realising that he had taken his mask off. Too shy and messy in tears, you made no effort to look up at him and instead continued to cry, emotions desperate to keep pouring out and leave the imprisonment of your body. His hand continued to rub the back of your head while his other held your lower back, both of you unknowingly taking a few steps back and forth together, unable to stay still. It was as if you both were dancing slowly, like lovers.

“Alright. Hand me the keys, love.” You tentatively grabbed your keys from where you had kept it and handed it to him, your hands quickly latching onto him again. He carefully unlocked the front door of your apartment and led you inside, being extra cautious so he doesn’t accidentally step onto your feet. Closing the door by kicking it gently with one leg, he gently guided you towards the living room, easing you down onto the couch.

“Do you remember that creepy guy that came into the cafe?” Your voice was still shaky from crying, eyes all glossy as you finally looked at him, heart skipping a beat. Despite already having seen his face the last time, you still weren't used to it. Were you blessed?

He silently nodded and took a seat beside you, his arms leaving your sides so his large hands could cradle your face, thumbs tenderly wiping the drying up tears away while you talked, eyes looking everywhere but at him due to the sudden proximity. He didn't mind it at all, simply adored your sudden sheepishness.

“I still get scared at the thought of him… I don't want anyone like that to visit the cafe again. I-I don't think I can handle it.” Your voice gradually got quieter by the end, nibbling on your bottom lip. Oh, dear. Simon hadn’t told you that he had already beat that creep up. Now he somewhat wished that he had killed him instead. Surely Price would back him up if he made up some reason, yeah?

Your shoulders visibly eased up at that, your mind clearing a bit. Probably sobering up? You were sure that you weren't going to pick up a bottle of alcohol after this. Leaning into him, you decided to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Expecting a soft, calm rhythm — you were instead met with a fast thump, your brows furrowing though you decided not to comment on it.

“He wouldn't. No one will ever treat you like that again, love.” As long as I am here. Possessive yet guilty. He was vaguely promising to be by your side while always avoiding you, protecting you from himself. From the ugliness within him. No angel must spare a glance at a stray, especially not one used to violence.

His hands were playing with the fabric of your shirt now, mindlessly toying with it, feeling the texture under his skin as he gently tugged onto it. It felt oddly comforting, both of you not mentioning what happened outside the apartment a few minutes ago.

You looked up at him again, your eyes falling onto his lips this time. A bit chapped with a small scar adorning the side of his upper lip. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, leaning forward to place a bashful kiss on top of it. Simon let out a soft grumble at that, tilting his head to the side so he could kiss your lips properly, eyes fluttering shut alongside yours. He could taste some hints of your salty tears, his hands holding your waist while your hands held the back of his neck, letting his lips devour yours.

He held onto you gently, not wanting to be tight despite every fiber within him wanting to hold you fully against him once more, like a hound too eager to please.

Once he pulled away from the kiss, his heart skipped at the sight of your lips being all glossy. Ethereal. Your lips twitched into a giddy smile, and he could swear that he felt the heat radiating off you once it crept up onto your face. It felt soft, everything felt too soft and warm. The gentleness threatened to suffocate him once more, a mocking reminder of him being undeserving of such tranquility. He was supposed to be wed to the war, to violence. To the bloodshed that haunted his dreams. Not whatever this was.

But he refused to get up, not wanting to see any more of your tears. “We have to get you to bed. You need sleep.” He spoke quietly, a soft sigh leaving his lips once he felt your forehead pressing against his, letting you lean into him.

“Will you join me?” You normally would have never asked something like that, but the way he was holding you almost made you believe that he was willing to warm up a bit more with you.

Simon frowned at that, pulling his head back slightly. “We can't, you're drunk.”

Realising that he misunderstood you, blood rushed to your cheeks and you looked away in embarrassment, your voice getting timid. “No… I meant sleeping together. Nothing else.”

He paused, eyes softening up as the implication dawned on him. Sleeping together. Innocently domestic — something you both had never touched. He wanted to reject, to say that it’d be better for him to just leave. That could have been the better option anyways. Though he couldn't bring himself to refuse you, too enamoured, as if trapped in some spell by you.

“Fine.” He clicked his tongue in a poor attempt to appear reluctant, masking his inner eagerness. Helping you off the couch, he led you towards the bathroom first, opening the tap. “Let's wash your face first, yeah?”

He did everything — getting you in comfortable pajamas once he finished helping you clean up, even helping you in preparing the bed. Everything. It made you feel as if you were cared for, as if he was the warmth you had ached for throughout your life. The felicity had long spreaded within you once you laid down on bed, watching him lay down beside you.

He was tense, visibly so. You tentatively scooted towards him, a hand reaching out to settle onto his chest, to feel his heartbeat once again. Maybe in this way, you could sync your heart with his, build your own little bubble. Or was that too much to hope for?

“Thank you…” It just slipped out of your mouth like a soft prayer — a hidden whisper to be close to him so more.

“S'nothing.” His eyes looked over at you, taking in the contentment etched onto your face. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you against him, to let you melt in his embrace while you slept. No. That's too much, that's crossing a line. A line made up in his head.

You're building your own grave, Simon. He despised his own mind for mocking him like this, for littering his head with unwanted thoughts. Just one night.

“Sleep now, love.” He whispered quietly, watching you reach over to turn the lamp off. You shuffled besides him again, letting the blanket cover you up.

Simon doesn’t remember the last time he had slept so nicely, your soft breathing his lullaby.

Upon waking up alone on your bed, a heavy feeling of dread settled on you alongside a throbbint headache. Had he left? Wasn't it just getting better?

Holding your heart together from cracking it with every strength you had, you tried to take a few deep breaths. Don’t panic, don't-

The sudden clinking sound from outside your bedroom made you jolt, and only now could you notice the pleasant aroma of something cooking. Sheepishly, you slid off the bed and tiptoed over to the door, poking your head out to look around. Able to make out some of Simon's figure through the open door of the kitchen, relief flooded deep within you. He's here.

“Good morning, Si…” You greeted him once you entered the kitchen, standing besides him, rubbing the weariness off your eyes. He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, focusing on cooking some breakfast.

“Your whole kitchen needs some restocking.” He mumbled, sparing a small glance over at you. You stayed quiet, a bit embarrassed by his observance. You were planning on restocking it soon, anyways.

The morning went by like a pleasant breeze, your mood ever so joyous today. You felt light, as if floating on the clouds and reaching the stars, as if becoming one of them, alongside Simon. He hadn't mentioned much about last night at all, even gave you some pills and an offer for a head massage. You had declined it, mostly because you didn't want to show how greatly affected you were by the subtle signs of care laced in his actions, despite it being already evident all over you.

You didn't know what had driven you to act in the way you did in the afternoon. Maybe you shouldn't have opened your mouth, just kept it shut and complied.

“Si, I um… I want to talk to you about something.” You paused the monotonous movie literally none of you were actually focusing on, turning over the couch to face him, your fingers tightly curled on your lap, digging into your flesh.

Maybe it was just your heart acting out, feeling as if things had changed. Foolishly clinging onto the thin strong of hope, never learning. Never learning that touching stray dogs was bad, they had fleas. Fleas that had already infected you, threatening to devour you.

“I think… Uh- I was wondering- I just-” Fumbling over your words, all you could hear was the loud beating of your own heart, each nerve of yours set on fire. Anxious, too anxious. You wanted to throw up. “I wanted to tell you that I really… like you, and-” Your words drowned into heavy silence once you took note of just how silent Simon was, how he was frowning.

A fool. A fool who dreamt too much, who was too lost amidst the heavenly clouds of tranquility. A fool who did everything to avoid reality — that's what you felt like.

“No.” His reply was rather abrupt, clear. The subtle smile on your lips fell, and Simon wished to do nothing more than drown into a river. “You don't like me.”

“I-I do!” Unbelievable, did he not believe that you like him? Even love him.

“You shouldn't.” That came out more roughly than he had intended to, a little snarl escaping his throat. “We've already discussed it, this is nothing.’

You should have shut up at that, should have somehow sewed your lips together and quieted down. You couldn't, instead growing more agitated, more on edge. “You can't say that, Si! D-Don't you see whatever it is that we're doing?” You whimpered in exasperation, trying to keep your voice from trembling, miserably failing. “I care for you! I do, and you care for me too. I can see it…” Vision progressively growing blurrier with incoming tears, you looked away and tried to ignore the sting in your eyes, your breath shuddering. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon was at a loss of words himself, his heart aching to kiss your tears away and plead for forgiveness. He was a cruel, cruel man. Cruel for being so terrified, cruel for being so persistent.

O Angel, forgive me for I can't let you love me, for light should never kiss the shadow.

“You shouldn't…” He repeated his words again, his voice quieter, weaker. A plea, a request. You shook your head, a sob erupting from your throat as you tried to reach out for him.

He pulled away just as quick, your hand never meeting his. An ocean that could never touch the moon, a man that could never touch a star.

“I need to leave.” Hastily he turned around and walked out of your apartment, leaving you speechless, hand still shamefully held out. Frozen and alone, unloved.

Simon Riley was a coward.

Simon had lost count of how many bottles he had drank by now. Feeling horribly, horribly similar to his father. A drunkard, disgusting. He thought the alcohol could wash his emotions away, drown them hopefully — all it did was make him even more vulnerable, his glossy eyes staring off at a distance.

Weak. Ironically enough, this brute was nothing but weak. Everyone should be laughing at him, you should be laughing at him. Laugh at him for not knowing how to love properly, for being so quick to run away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, making him click his tongue in irritation that soon melted away once he noticed the caller ID.

Price.

He picked it up and listened to his captain's words, each syllable both a stab and a blessing.

A deployment again, finally.

notes — i apologise for uploading it after A WHOLE MONTH. blaming it on the writerphew, a deployment! this could mean many things. also a heads up that either chapter 6 or chapter 7 will be the last one (made some changes to my plan!)

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note:  hey guys! it's me, like wayyyy too many months later but i did promise i would post it this year even if it's like next year in a few hours but here it is!

masterlist

oh oh i'm falling in love, oh no i'm falling in love again, oh, i'm falling in love i thought the plane was going down how'd you turn it right around

Y/N stared in disbelief at the Sergeant, not entirely sure if she had heard him correctly. Maybe it was the Scotch. Could Scotch go bad, could it expire? Sure old Scotch was better than a recent one but surely there was some sort of limit as to how long a liquid can sit lost in time until it gives you some sort of poisoning. Surely malt and water couldn't last forever without causing some sort of illness or hallucination which would explain why Bucky Barnes had just told her he loved her. Or maybe he told her that he loathed her, that would make more sense.

      - I'm sorry, I think I didn't hear it right ... What did you say? - she asked and Bucky swore she was trying to kill him or maybe embarrass him. However, his ego was high on the three glasses of Scotch he already had.

      - I said I loved you.

      - You love me? - what else was there to ask. Maybe she was mishearing him again, yet it came more of a disbelief rambling rather than the question she meant it to be.

      - Yes. - he said, moving closer to her, his eyes more interested in the shade of her lips rather than her eyes which were sure to bring any grown men to their knees. - I love you, I really, really like you Y/N.

      - Like a friend?

Had Y/N been anyone else Bucky would've probably laughed and had Bucky been anyone else Y/N would hide in her bedroom until he disappeared. Things were ... different, she guessed. It felt different to hear it from him, different than when she heard it from Christopher or her first boyfriend or the first guy she ever liked. It felt unsure in the way which she didn't know how to reply, she didn't know when to reply. It was a mature and immature feeling, threading almost along the line of paradoxical. It was if the feeling itself verified her madonna persona yet tempted the whore which laid under, the temptress. It was both tempting and comforting for something that was so out of her reasonable comfort zone.

      - No, not like a friend. - he was close enough she could smell the remnants of his cologne, the scent of scotch in his breathe. - I love you like lovers do.

      - Is that what we are? Lovers?

      - Are you ever not questioning me?

      - It's a fair question, isn't it? - she raised her brow almost in defiance and moved closer, tempting him further. - I thought you liked my questions.

Bucky rolled his eyes before his hands grabbed her hips and moved her closer so their noses touched. They stared into each others eyes for what felt like a while, the mere sound of the wind brushing through the trees outside sounding like electricity until he made his move, moving closer until their lips collided. As if they'd done , they move closer to each other, their bodies pressing together in a heated embrace. Their lips meet in a passionate, lustful kiss, and the world around them fades away as they lose themselves in the moment. She pulled away, biting her lip almost in a painfully shy manner.

      - I should go back upstairs. I have to take Sadie to school tomorrow. - she cleared her throat, wiping her cheeks as if she could wipe the heat of her cheeks.

      - Of course. - Bucky moved away as she got up from the couch. - Hey, I can take her if you want to sleep. It's fine, I can go to the office later.

      - It's fine, it's my job. Uh ... good night, Sergeant.

She ran up the stairs like an embarrassed school girl, almost tripping on the bottom of her pyjama trousers, and rushed into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. What was she doing? She couldn't make out with her boss, that went against her contract ... I mean, it wasn't like there was a clause stipulating she couldn't make out with Bucky yet it was still highly unprofessional. He was her boss, her very attractive, tall and rugged handsome boss ... but her boss. Her boss who was sometimes unprofessional himself, he had even inserted himself into the Christopher situation. Still, she was a professional and a professional doesn't make out with her boss.

She laid down in bed with a huff, staring at the lights in the ceiling of her bedroom. Did Bucky had the same lights in his ceiling? He probably did, this was his house after all. The same house she was living in for free, the same house of the man who paid her a really good salary.

      - Y/N? - a knock on her door interrupted her mind's rambling. She got up and opened to see Bucky staring at his feet. - I wanted to apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable, it was unprofessional on my part.

      - No, no, it's my fault too, I mean ... I kissed you back. - she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

      - Please don't apologise, I should've known better but it's damn good scotch, which isn't really an excuse. - he started rambling himself, looking at her like a high schooler would look a girl he really wanted to take on a date. It was cute. - Maybe we shouldn't drink more scotch.

      - Yeah, you're probably right.

He shrugged playfully before turning to go to back to his bedroom before he could do anything else he would regret, however, Y/N was still very much considering whether she should do something that she could regret tomorrow.

      - Sergeant Barnes? - she called after him, almost in a faint whisper so his daughter wouldn't wake up. - Are you gonna ask me out?

      - Excuse me?

      - You said you loved me. Are you gonna ask me out?

      - Do you want me to ask you out? - he smirked, crossing his arms.

      - I'm not gonna answer that question. - she met him in the middle with an equal smirk. - I wasn't the one who said I love you.

      - Yeah but I wasn't the one asking the boss to ask her out.

      - Ask me out, Barnes.

      - Is that an order?

Bucky was close, close enough she could see the smile lines resulting from and she couldn't help herself, she didn't want to help herself. She kissed him, her hand placed on the back of his neck as they kissed. It wasn't soft or sensual, it was needy, as if they would cease to exist. She pulled him towards her bedroom, her hands grabbing at his jumper to pull it over his head. She had heard he was very well built and she had caught glances of him shirtless before but seeing it so up close, every defined muscle, the texture of his skin made her want to scold herself for not having looked harder the other times.

      - I don't think I've been in this bedroom for this long. - he pulled her shirt over her head as he looked around the bedroom. It was her bedroom after all and she wasn't in the mood to usually let him inside to see anything. - Or seen you shirtless this long.

      - Do you ever stop talking? - Bucky smiled and looked at her.

His hands wandered down to her hips and his thumbs lightly brushed over her hips. He pinned her against the door, his leg between hers as he pressed himself closer to her. His lips drew a pattern from behind her ear to her collarbone, his fingers snapping her bra strap against her skin.

      - Do you know how long I've waited for this? - he chuckled as he felt her body close to his, the shape of her breasts pressed against his chests and the sweet nothings of the moans she was trying to keep from escaping. - You've been tempting me since the moment you walked through my door.

He chuckled as she held in a gasp, his body moving closer and closer to her. He turned her around, kissing her hard again and threw her in the body, covering her uncovered body with kisses as he massaged her skin. She felt him slide his hands just a bit further down, kissing and softly bitting her skin. The feelings are overwhelming and the mere foreplay of kissing and massaging is sending shivers down her body. Everything about him was making her go crazy.

      - Bucky, please. - he smiled and he kissed back as he let his fingers move down a just little lower. He leaned in and nuzzled into her more.

His thumb pressed over her clit just over her cotton white underwear, rolling it in small and torturously slow motions making her moan. The fabric moistened under his finger making him smirk as he extended his neck to kiss hers.

      - You're so wet. - he chuckled as he kissed down her legs and to the laced hem of her underwear. - You wanted me just as much as I wanted you.

      - Wait, what are you doing? - she cupped his face, pulling him up.

      - I'm gonna eat you out, baby. What does it look like?

      - I've never had anyone do that to me before so maybe we could skip it?

      - Christopher didn't eat you out? - he chuckled. - No wonder you're so wound up over some over the underwear play. No one is treating you right.

      - You really wanna talk exes?

      - If you let me eat you out, you won't regret it. - he looked at her waiting for her consent. Y/N weighed out the options and the benefits, mostly considering her memories of when Sadie was at her grandmother's and Bucky brought in flavour of the month Samantha and for the whole week Y/N could hear nothing but loud moaning. She wanted the loud moaning as well so she nodded her head.

Bucky grinned like a devil, kissing down her collarbone all the way to the hem of her underwear. His hands slide inside her underwear, pulling it down her legs and throwing it somewhere into the floor. He kissed the side of her knee, the 2 day old stubble of his unshaved beard burning the skin in a very good manner. His kisses continued down her knee to her calf as he placed her legs on his shoulders and lowered down to her heat. Bucky swore in that moment he could happily die in the middle of her legs happily surrounded by her scent. He kissed and bit the inside of her thighs, definitely leaving marks which would make sure she would never forget. His thumbs spread her wide open and his head fully lowered now, his tongue licking a long yet slow strip up to her clit. The sensation was new for sure, it was nothing like what she had ever felt before and as she was learning to adapt to the new feelings his tongue was causing, he starting suckling on her clit, his tongue ever so slightly teasing the top of it. She gasped in a moan, her hands gripping at his hair.

      - Bucky! - she said in between shallow breathes bringing him immense enjoyment that he was causing her. He started eating her out like a starved man, her fluids coating his chin and neck as he went in for another lick before he started to use his fingers. Her nails gripped the sheets.

      - Chris didn't treat you like this? - he came back up biting the side of her knee. - I bet not, which is why you're so wet.

      - Go back. - she almost pouted and Bucky couldn't say no. He went back down and started suckling on her clit while his fingers pumping in and out of her hole. Her fingers tightened around the sheets and on his hair and she started to see black spots in her vision, she attempted to control her breathe but found herself unable to do so as Bucky's mouth and fingers brought her to orgasm.

Her back fully hit the mattress and she stared at the lights in her bedroom with her mouth softly open as her breathes came out softly. Bucky kissed his way up to the corner of her mouth before fully kissing her, his knee rubbing against her core. She whimpered, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.

      - You're good? - he asked, kissing the side of her head.

      - I'm good. - her hands made their way to the top of his sweats, trying to pull them down.

      - Someone's needy. - he grinned as he helped her shake him out of his sweats and underwear. He grabbed her thighs and put her in positions before grabbing his cock and lining it up with her entrance. He looked into her eyes once more looking for reassurance before he sheathed himself inside her, groaning as he did so. Her legs wrapped around his hips, helping him bottom out as he leaned towards her to kiss her once more. - Can I move, baby?

      - Yes, please.

His hips moved ever so slightly making her moan which was a sign for him to move. His hand held hers and he began to thrust in and out, his balls hitting her bottom as he did. He drowned her moans with a kiss, moving again fast enough to make the headboard hit the wall. The bedroom filled up with their moans and the smell of sex as she reached the her last orgasm of the night. Once Bucky felt her release, he began chasing his own, throwing his head back and groaning. He finished inside of her, ropes of white spilling out from her hole and in the sheets.

He fell to her side and smiled, merely happy to look at the sight of her before the two fell asleep.

(...)

She woke up next morning to the faint chatter and laughter downstairs. She rubbed her eyes, looking at the state of the room. Memories came rushing to her and she couldn't help but slightly smiled as she wrapped herself in her robe and made her way downstairs. Sadie was dressed and was sat at the table eating pancakes while Bucky was nursing a cup of coffee.

      - Daddy did your hair, huh? - she said to Sadie as she reached her, noticing her lobbed ponytail. She took the scrunchie off and started to plaid the hair.

      - Thank you! - she said through the food she was eating.

      - Sleep well? - Bucky asked as he hid a smirk behind his coffee cup.

      - I did, did you? Sore? - she asked as she grabbed a cup of coffee herself. - You look a bit blushed still, Sergeant.

      - Are you busy this afternoon?

      - Depends.

      - Reservations downtown at 7?

taglist: @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @chipilerendi @kandis-mom @belennasif @abitofblues @feddefy

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

oooh I got one! prompt 74 with any of the follower!bishops, where they get hurt on a crusade and reader, who is a healer finds them and helps them <333

74) "I think I broke my leg!"

.......

"I can't believe this...betrayed by my own-!!"

"Lord Kallamar?"

Surprised by the voice, Kallamar looked up at you, the figure dressed in white tattered robes, clean of any and all ichor. The metal halo behind your head reflected the sunlight from above Anchordeep, making it seem as though it were glowing.

Now he remembers.

You're one of the many nameless Healers in his former army of cultists and devotees. He thought most of them were culled by the Lamb at this point, yet you were somehow still alive.

"You have returned to us in such a miniscule form." You mused, to which you saw him tense up, trying to shuffle away.

So far, every creature here was trying to kill him during his crusade, and he wasn't sure if you were going to be any different.

He knew should've gone to the tailor first; at least they wouldn't attack him on-sight just because his red robes remind them of the Lamb..and that his defeat permanently shattered his image as a leader.

"Back away from me! I'm---ow!!!" Feeling a sudden sharp pain in one of his legs, Kallamar stopped moving and looked down, realizing it didn't look quite right. "Ah...a-ahaha...I-I think I broke my leg...!"

"Do not fear, my lord. I will make it all better." Floating down to the ground, you gently reached your hands out to him, green magic appearing from your fingertips. "How did this happen, if I may ask?"

"Well..I fell.." He mumbled quietly, and you looked at him, mishearing him.

"What happened?"

"I-I fell while fleeing from one of those sea creatures..." Red dusted his face as he averted his gaze, embarrassed to be seen like this--especially by someone he used to rule over.

But you seemed to show absolutely no bias nor resentment towards him, even though he now wore the same robes of the enemy cult.

Part of him was afraid you'd refuse and leave him to suffer on his own, although he remembers that your singular job is to be a healer. And despite knowing that he wasn't some all-powerful god anymore and allowed himself to be beaten by Lamb into submission...you wanted to help him anyways. You didn't huff or laugh or show any indication that you thought of him as pathetic for breaking his leg over a simple fall.

Instead, you quietly allowed your magic to go to work, mending the broken done and repairing the torn flesh. Soon it set itself back into place without causing him further pain, making it good as new.

Like nothing even happened.

"You should be good now, my lord. Do be careful with your new mortal vessel." Bowing your head, you rose to your feet and watched as Kallamar slowly got up.

"Only now I see how fragile this body is..damned Lamb.." He grunted, checking out his leg before picking up his backpack. Then he gazed up at you. "What's your name?"

You blinked. "My name..?"

"Yes, that's what I said. I never knew your name, but I wanna know it now."

"I see, then...I'm [y/n]." You answered, surprised and flattered that he asked.

It's been so long since you've said your name to anyone, that you've almost forgotten it entirely.

"Well, [y/n]..would you care to accompany me for the remainder of my crusade? I was sent to retrieve as many crystal shards as I could carry...but I keep running into dead ends, and death traps.." Kallamar shuddered. "And I-"

"You needn't worry, my lord. I would be happy to join you." Although he couldn't see your smile under your hood, he could hear the delight in your voice, and chuffed.

Why were you so kind to him? Why did you treat him as though he was still your ruler?

"None of this bothers you at all?" He vaguely gestured to himself. "You don't see me as your "enemy"?"

"I only see the injured and the sick, and I heal them." You assured him, chuckling softly. "Do not fret. It matters not what form you take or how limited it is, my lord-"

"Okay, I'm not your "lord" anymore. Just Kallamar is fine."

"...very well, Kallamar. Then let us go. I know a safe path."

[pinkrose787]

You Can't Spell Apologize Without Lie

Summary: Bill comes into Ford's dream to apologize.

Ao3 Link

Ever since Bill died, Ford has slept a lot easier. No longer does he have to worry about that damn demonic triangle invading his dreams and tormenting him with threats of destroying his dimension.

That was until tonight.   

In tonight’s dream, he is in the Mystery Shack back when it was still his laboratory. It’s vivid in a way that his dreams never are. Except for whenever he dreamt about Bill.

“Hiya, Sixer! Did ya miss me? Admit it, you missed me.” A familiar perky voice comes from behind him.

Ford swivels around. Standing, or more precisely floating, before him is his triangular tormentor. Exactly the same as he was when Ford last saw him. Except for the crack that runs across his face filled with static. Likely a scar from when Stan punched Bill.

His eye has that smile to it. A smile that used to make Ford’s heart flutter with affection for his “muse”. Now, his heart pounds in fear of his manipulator. “Bill! You’re supposed to be dead!”

“But I’m not! I’m here!”

He takes a step back. A pointless action given Bill’s abilities. “Leave my mind this instant!”

Bill puts up his hands like he’s trying to soothe a panicked horse. He floats closer to Ford. “Listen, I will eventually. But I want you to hear me out first. Please.”

That gives Ford pause. In all his years of knowing Bill, never once did he say please. And there’s a genuineness in his voice. A vulnerability to it. But it could all be a trick. That’s what Bill does. He tricks and deceives to get what he wants.

Bill sighs. His eye looks at the ground. “I know you don’t trust me. And I know why. But it’s been so long. I’ve changed.”

“It’s only been 3 years. That’s barely any time to me, and almost nothing to you.”

“Where I’m at time works differently. It’s been 3 years to you and several eons to me.” He floats over to Ford. Puts his arm over his shoulder, the exact same way that he used to when Ford admired him. Likely a trick to get him to trust him. “You’re a smart guy, you get how all this relativity stuff works.”

Ford pushes Bill off of him. This time his tricks aren’t going work on him. “I don’t care where you are or how time works! I want you gone!”

“Look, I’ve spent all this time being ‘dead’,” He uses air quotes when he says dead. “in this asylum that makes Hell look like Disney World. There’s been nothing to do except reflect on my life.”

“It sounds like you’re in a place that you belong.”

“Yeah, I am.”

That’s not the answer Ford was expecting. At least, not said so sincerely. Still, he can’t forget that this is probably a trick. “So, you’re here to escape from there? That’s it, isn’t it?”

“No! No.” Bill shakes his head. “I came here to apologize.”

“You came here to apologize?” Ford heard him correctly. He knows he did. It’s impossible for him to mishear Bill in these dreams. The concept of Bill ever apologizing is so alien to him that mishearing a voice that is psychically projected into his head is more plausible.

“Yes, I did.” Bill takes off his hat. He holds it in his hands. “I realized that I messed up. Badly. You were the best thing to happen to me in a trillion years, and I didn’t see that. I was blinded by my own ambition and after destroying my dimension I was too scared to let anyone get to close. So, I told myself that you were nothing but a tool to me. A means to an end. But you weren’t. You were everything to me. You were the one person who could understand me.”

A tear forms in Bill’s eye. Combined with holding his hat in hands, he looks so vulnerable and pathetic. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“So, you came here for forgiveness. Let me guess, this asylum place will only let you out if  get forgiveness from everyone you’ve ever wronged.” He looks Bill straight in the eye. “Well, you’re not getting it from me.” 

Bill puts his hat back on. It seems like he’s actually hurt by what Ford said? “That’s not it. They actually didn’t want me coming back here. They said it was a bad idea.”

“Well, maybe they were right. You should have never come back here.”

“I know, I just…”

“Just what? Just thought apologizing would undo everything you’ve done?” Ford’s voice starts to rise. “You manipulated me. You tortured me. You tried to kill my family. You damn near destroyed my dimension! I almost lost my brother because of you!”

“No! I…” Bill shouts.

Ford ignores him. “Do you want to know the worst thing you did?”

He looks Bill straight in his eye. Making sure that the demon is listening to his next words. “You made me fall in love with you. Even after every horrible thing you did to me, I still loved you! Even though I knew it was stupid and irrational to love someone who only wanted to hurt me, I still did!”

For once in his life, Bill Cipher doesn’t have anything to say.

“There were even parts of my brain telling me that it wasn’t that bad. That I’m being overdramatic. That being with you is better than being without you. And these thoughts tortured me for years. They haunted me on my coldest nights when I journeyed through the dimensions.”

“I’ve changed! I’m better now! I swear!” Bill cries.

“Well, I don’t care how much better you are! You could be the kindest person in all the dimensions who saves kittens from trees and I wouldn’t give a damn. Because it doesn’t matter how much you’ve changed, it still doesn’t negate all the horrible things you did!”

“I know that. But…”

“But nothing.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought that apologizing would help you heal. Give you closure and all that junk.”  

“You thought it would heal me. Thought it would give me closure.” Ford rolls his eyes. “Well thank you for your consideration, but I was healing fine without you. I had just gotten to the point where I’m able to see a yellow triangle without spiraling into a panic attack. But now that’s in the trash, because of you.”

Bill rubs his arm. Not looking Ford in the eyes. “I really thought it would help.” He says in a low voice. “Honest.”

“Do you want to know how I know you haven’t changed? Every single sentence is about how you feel, what you think, how what you’ve done has affected you. There hasn’t been a single time where you have acknowledged how your actions have hurt me. You haven’t even done the bare minimum of asking how I’ve been doing. Because if you did you’d know that I’ve been doing better than I ever have without you.”

“Well, you haven’t given me an opportunity to. You keep cutting me off.”

“Because every time you open your damn mouth, you manipulate me. Every. Single. Time. But I’m not going let you this time. I’m done with you and your lies.”

Bill sighs. “I’m done with all of that. I promise.”

“Goodbye, Bill. If I never see you again, I want you to know that I hate you. More than I have ever hated anyone. You ruined my life, and for that I’ll never forgive you.”

What seems to be tear forms in Bill Cipher’s eye. “I’m sorry.” His voice fades.

Ford wakes up with a jolt. He’s covered in sweat. His breathing is heavy.

He looks around. He’s no longer in the dream.

Now, he’s back in the cabin of the Stan o’ War II. Stan sleeps on the bunk below him. The sound of his snores fill the cabin. The ship creaks as the waves rock it back and forth.

There’s no chance of him falling back asleep. He doesn’t want to risk seeing Bill again. That and his heart is still pounding in his chest. Looking at his watch, it reads 3 am.

He climbs out of bed, careful not to wake Stan, and heads out onto the deck.

It isn’t much lighter out here, but at least there are the stars. Out here in the Artic, there’s no light pollution. The stars shine brilliantly. Ford can find all the different constellations without needing a map of the sky. Ursa Major, Orion, Gemini.

If there is one thing Ford missed during his travel through the dimensions it was the stars. Sure, there were countless stars in all sorts of dimensions. But none of them equated to the beauty of the ones in this one. Looking at them he’s reminded that he’s back.

He’s home.

Though the stars are a source of comfort, there’s still a deep panic within him. Bill is back. He talked to him. His adrenaline levels are the same as if he was being hunted by a polar bear. Frankly, he’d rather deal with a polar bear than Bill.

He hears the floorboards creak behind him. Seems like Stan woke up. “You’re up early. You trying to map out the stars or something?” Stan says.

“I saw Bill in my dream,” Ford says point-blank. There’s no point in hiding it. Nor does he want to. He doesn’t want to be alone in dealing with Bill anymore. Every single time he’s tried, it’s almost ruined his life.

“Are you sure? You have been having a lot dreams about Bill since Weirdmageddon.” The worry in Stan’s voice is palpable.

Ford sighs. “This dream didn’t resemble any of the others. All of those dreams are strange and disjointed. Jumping from one event to another for seemingly no reason. This was one was as clear as day.”

“So he’s back? How? I killed that little triangle jerk!” Stan exclaims.

“You did. He’s still dead, and he has a scar on his face to prove it. I think he told me that he’s in some sort of prison dimension now?” Ford sighs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What else did he say? Because I swear if that wise guy threatened you-” Stan shakes his fist.

“No, he didn’t threaten me. In fact, he apparently came because he wanted to apologize."

“Apologize? That’s gotta be some sort of trick.”

“That’s what I thought too, but no he seemed genuinely sincere.”

“Eh, I doubt it. I know the likes of him.” Stan leans back against the railing of the boat. “Met plenty of them over the course of my life. And let me tell you their apologies are never sincere.”

Ford rests his arms on the railing. “You may be right.” He sighs. “It just doesn’t make sense to me. I keep thinking I have Bill figured out, then he pulls something like this.”

“You should take what you do know about him, that he’s a lying conniving jerk who wanted to kill you and destroy our dimension, and base your opinion on that. So, he apologized.” Stan shrugs. “That’s just words. Don’t mean nothing.”

“You’re right.”

“Course, I am. I’m always right!”

“What frustrates me is that I feel like I’ve gone backwards. Right when I thought I put everything to rest.” Ford hits the railing. “He comes back and ruins it. Now, I feel like I did before Weirdmageddon. Terrified that he’s going to come back and destroy me.”

Stan puts his arm over Ford. “Look, how bout this? Next time, he comes back, I’ll go into your dream and punch him dead again.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll find a way with that smart guy brain of yours.” Stan starts giving ford a noogie.

Ford laughs. “Okay, okay. I’ll find a way to let you into my dreams.” He playfully pushes Stan away.

“Good. Cause there ain’t no way I’m letting that stupid little jerk come back and hurt you again. You hear?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He has a smile on his face. Most of the tension in Ford’s body is gone. Stan always was able to bring Ford back down and out of his own head when they were kids. Frankly, he doesn’t know how he managed without Stan.

But then again, he does know. He didn’t. He got swindled by a demon and became a criminal in multiple dimensions. Not a single part of Ford doubts the idea that if he had let Stan back in a lot earlier, then none of that would have happened.

There’s a moment of silence between the two of them. “Hey, Stan.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

[thehypnone]

go hypnone, if it's okay could I ask for something with rain and his physical pains? my feet and wrist have flaired up for no real reason this week and it made me think of him.

never gonna say no to some projecting onto rain. also i hope your feet and wrist stop giving you hard time asap :/

580 words, hurt/comfort/fluff

“Did my favorite water ghoul die in his sleep?” Swiss burst through Rain’s door, no regards to anyone’s privacy as usual. He walked over to the bed and the Rain-shaped lump on it. “It’s nearing lunch and you haven’t had breakfast. You love breakfast, raincloud, are you okay?”

“What do you think?” he growled from under all the covers.

“Rain,” Swiss said sternly, in that specific voice that the water ghoul knew all too well. He and Swiss had made an arrangement ages ago, that when Rain acted like an asshole towards someone who didn’t deserve it because of his pain, Swiss would scold him. It worked.

“‘m sorry,” Rain mumbled.

“It’s alright.” The multi ghoul smiled sadly, knowing now that it was indeed a bad day for Rain. He sat by him on the edge of the bed and put a hand over the lump made of Rain and the bedding. “Can I see your pretty face, princess?”

With a loud grumble the lump shifted and Rain’s head poked out, eyes puffy with purple under them. “Hi, Bambi.”

“Hi, Swiss.”

The multi ghoul laid down on his side—as close to Rain as the blankets and comforters he had wrapped around himself would allow—and kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m sorry, princess. It sucks. Anything I can do?”

“No, it’ll pass, just–” the water ghoul sighed. “Just lay with me, okay? Hold me?”

Swiss smiled and leaned in for another kiss, this time to the other’s lips. “Always, raincloud.”

He shucked off his jeans as Rain wiggled an arm out to lift the contents of his nest. Swiss chuckled at that—the reminder about how a nest should look like on the tip of his tongue. The water ghoul was famous for getting under his nest rather than into it.

Swiss crawled back in and laid on his back, letting Rain choose how he wanted to cuddle, also not wanting to jostle his aching vessel by pulling him close. The water ghoul shuffled down a bit and glued himself to the other’s side, laying his head on Swiss’ chest.

“Can you warm me up a bit, too?” Rain asked, looking up at Swiss with his big, cerulean blue eyes. The multi ghoul nodded, leaning down to kiss the water ghoul as he kicked up his temperature. He smuggled a tiny bit of quintessence between the waves of infernal heat. He immediately felt a bit guilty for that, knowing Rain didn’t exactly agree to it, but he couldn’t not do it. 

“I love you, princess,” Swiss muttered quietly into his hair, squeezing him tightly, but carefully. “Every damn day I wish I could just– take it all away from you, you have no idea–”

“Swiss,” Rain said. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not, but–”

“Baby, you do blame yourself. You stink of it,” the water ghoul chuckled, poking Swiss’ belly under the comforters. 

“Excuse me– I don’t stink!”

“Well, not all the time. Just when you're sick with worry for your… favorite water ghoul? That’s what you said or did I mishear?” Rain threw a leg over the multi ghoul’s thighs and laid himself out on top of him, his chin perched up on his sternum.

“Oh, it’s not like you have a lot of competition… but yeah,” Swiss laughed, “I guess you are. And I guess I may stink sometimes, but it’s the smell of love, Bambi.”

The water ghoul grinned and batted his eyelashes at him. “Sure, sure… I love you, too.”

[scrimblo-soab]

I think we can all agree that season eight of VLD sucks. It wasn’t well written and the Allura/Lance relationship was so rushed.

But

I personally like only one episode. And a couple seconds of episode one. I hate the rest of episode one, it was so rushed.

I loved the episode where it was kind of like a vlog of what it was like on the ship, it was a really interesting concept, and I just liked how the episode felt compared to all the other episodes in the show.

In the first episode, when I was rewatching the show, at around 19-ish minutes I think(???), right before the toast to whatever whatever, Lance is refusing to set Keith up on a date with his sister, and in the background while Allura and his mom are talking you can hear him say “never! Not in a million decapheobs! Okay? All that guy likes are knives and space wolf! Holy moly that would be terrible! No! No!… and he’s gay.”

SO LIKE??? I COULD BE MISHEARING IT, BUT SEVERAL OTHER PEOPLE I KNOW HAVE BEEN LIKE “YEAH I HEARD AND HES GAY” SO???

Honestly idk if anyone else noticed, but this is the only good parts about season eight. It still sucks.

[novamixs]

change - iwaizumi

it’s hard to feel normal when you’re anything but. you wake up, wondering how many more days you’ll have to until it’s over. you get up, dreading the state you’ll see yourself in as you look into the bathroom mirror. you can’t recognize yourself. when did you start looking like such a mess? you decide that today is the day you’ll make things better for yourself.

take a shower, brush your teeth, change your clothes, then lose around 36% of your motivation when you see the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom. that can wait for tomorrow. you’re getting better after all, right? baby steps! you open the window in the kitchen, taking a moment to manipulate yourself into thinking things will change, but this happens every time. mid contemplation, your stomach growls. you’re hungry. it’s been quite a while since you’ve felt that feeling. 

you open the fridge with a bit of force (did you get weaker?) only to find a spoiled carton of milk, some apples, and an energy drink. guess a meal will have to wait until later. or tomorrow. at this point in your day, around 50% of the motivation to get better has faded away, and the other half never existed in the first place. you made it two hours without going back to bed - a record for the week!

walking back to your bedroom is your version of the walk of shame; today is just another failed attempt of feeling like you have a purpose. you sink into the familiar comfort of your too-big-for-one-person bed. your eyes drift shut, just as they have for the last three days, and in 10 minutes you’re out cold. your mind has decided to have mercy on you today and not let you have time to think about what the hell you’re doing with your life. 

your eyes flutter open at a rough 6:45 am, the earliest you’ve been up in a while. today is the day, you think. having woken up this early was enough to convince yourself you have the ability to rule the world. the routine continues: shower, teeth, change, save the laundry for tomorrow. in your new outfit for the day, you decide it’s a great day to go to the coffee shop down the street.

you squint your eyes as you walk outside, the sun smiling in your face as if it’s saying i am everything you aren’t! i am related to happiness and warmth and good days! you decide that the sun is not going to ruin your day. today is supposed to be the day! you were up early, you put on a decent outfit that won’t earn you weird looks, you went out of the building, what could possibly ruin this for you?

a coffee shop can. that’s what. what in the world were you thinking, coming to a place where every chirpy morning person in the world is at the same time? you debate turning around, but are reminded of the sun as it beats down onto you. you want to be happy, like the sun is every day. you exhale shakily as you push on the pull door. strike one. you correct yourself, hearing the bell chime as you walk inside. you’ve never cared about what people think of you because they have no idea what it’s like, yet you feel small under the eyes of everyone in the shop.

you walk up to the register, ordering your usual. or what you think was your usual. it’s been a few weeks since you’ve come here. the cashier tries to make small talk, and as appreciative as you are for it, you answer with one word responses or shaking your head. you mishear one of her questions, answering with a yes instead of if you want your receipt printed or thrown away. strike two. you haven’t been a people person in some years now. you pay with the $10 bill you found in a drawer, taking a seat in a booth in the corner farthest from anyone and everyone.

the smell of the coffee and the conversations of the people around you make you feel more anxious than it used to. maybe you should start going outside more. you space out, staring at the empty seat in front of you as your mind wanders. how long has it been since you’ve talked to any of your friends? are they worried about you? or are they used to this behavior already? you are shaken out of your thoughts when your name is called.

you hesitantly get up from your seat, walking to grab your drink and sit back down. upon grabbing it, you realize it’s hot. you remember that you get cold drinks in the morning. oh well. what’s so bad about change? you swiftly turn around, only to knock into the broad chest of a man you have never seen in your life, your drink flying to the ground.

he backs up quickly, eyebrows raised in shock and concern. oh. oh wow. he’s gorgeous. suddenly you think you should’ve paid more attention to your appearance while getting ready this morning. “i’m so sorry,” he says, reaching behind your figure to grab napkins. it snaps you out of your trance, and you’re aware of the stupid expression on your face. were you staring?

you turn around, also grabbing a few napkins before kneeling down beside him. “it’s not your fault,” you say quietly, focused on cleaning the mess on the floor. “i wasn’t watching where i was going.”

he picks up the last piece of ice, dumping it into the now empty cup as he looks at you with all of his glory. “can i buy you another one? it’s only fair.”

any other day you would’ve denied. you would’ve taken this as a sign that maybe today just isn’t your day. but with a gorgeous man right in front of your eyes, you think that today is a day for change and the only way to go is up. you nod, unable to find the word ‘yes’ in your vocabulary. strange, considering how it was the only thing you could say ten minutes ago. he helps you up, asking you what you ordered. you consider telling him a cold drink, but stick to the hot one you just spilled all over the shop’s floor.

he pays, and leads you to the booth you were just in. he sits across from you and looks away, giving you a few seconds to really look at him. he’s muscular. looks like he takes good care of himself. if you were yourself from two years ago, you might’ve tried hitting on him, but too much has happened for you to be that person again in your lifetime. 

“i’m sorry again, for making you spill your drink,” he says, and you can hear how sincere he is in his voice. a well communicated man, too. what a catch. he looks back over to you, holding eye contact. “what’s your name?” it takes you a second to process what he’s asked, but you tell him as soon as you do. it must’ve come out faster than you realized, because he chuckles softly at you before responding. “i’m iwaizumi. it’s nice to meet you, even in.. this circumstance.” he says, getting quieter towards the end. you feel yourself crack a smile for the first time in ages. “it’s nice to meet you, too,” you say back, embracing the no-teeth smile on your face. 

“how’s your morning been?” he asks, his voice smooth sounding. you realize he’s making small talk, just as the cashier with you not even an hour ago. however, this time, you think that you do not mind it as much, since he’s looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on and asking as if it really matters to him.

you run your morning back at his question, and you come to a conclusion that had he not bumped into you and spill your coffee on the floor, you would be back to that same slump you’ve been in and out of for as long as you can remember. you look away, embarrassed as you answer him. “i don’t think you would believe me if i said this is the best morning i’ve had in weeks.”

he raises his eyebrows again, smiling at your words. the view is better than any ocean, any mountain, any sky could ever have. “that makes me feel less terrible about running into you, then.” you open your mouth to speak again, finding it easier and easier to talk to him, even with the minimal amount of conversation you’ve had.

just as your voice comes out, his name is called. he turns his head to the counter, walking quickly there and back to slide your drink over to you. you mumble a thank you, taking a sip of the drink. it’s good, to your surprise.

you talk with him for a few more minutes, paying more attention to his voice than your now lukewarm drink in front of you. mid sentence, his phone buzzes, and he checks the screen. you see his face fall slightly, opening something on the device. “i have to go, but i’d love to hang out with you again.” he tells you, sliding his phone over to you. you look down at the screen, your eyes noticing it as a contact. you freeze for a minute, then put your number in with your name at the top. you slide his phone back over, a content look on your face. “just send me a text. i’m free whenever.”

he smiles, raising from his seat. “i’ll see you later then.” you watch as he waves goodbye, walking out of the shop. you exhale, feeling fresh, like the way you want to feel when you decide to clean up around your apartment. you feel normal. you feel like maybe, just maybe, that single interaction has prevented you from continuing to dig straight down. your phone buzzes, and you see an unsaved number:

tomorrow at 3?

this is iwaizumi btw

you feel that stupid smile on your face again. the one you used to have while talking to your friends in high school. a happy smile. 

sounds perfect

see you tomorrow

you shut off your phone after saving his contact, finishing your (now cold) drink. today is a good day to go grocery shopping. you get up from your spot, leaving the shop, walking to the store a few streets away. you always thought that there was never a point in change. that a routine would help you get better, and that sticking to it would get you to forget about the feelings that cloud your mind.

after today, you decide that breaking that routine and spilling your coffee was the best thing to ever happen to you. what’s so bad about change when it gets you to meet a new potential friend, and go to the store, and get a new drink that you now deem as your favorite? what’s so bad about change when it helps you feel like a normal person, when you’re anything but?

--

a/n: this is extremely self indulgent i'm so sorry and i'm embarrassed that this is my tumblr debut but i hope you enjoy ☺️ this is for all my iwaizumi loving friends in a mental slump rn

[captain-mj]

Imagine if Graves started to call Price absolutely ridiculous pet names(Pookie bear, Snuggles, Doodlebug, etc.) To get on his nerves, but Price secretly starts to like it. Then Graves just randomly stops and Price corners him asking him why he stopped.

Time to push my Cajun Graves onto everyone.

“Can you pass me that, dumpling?”

Price almost died. Right then and there. In front of everyone.

The entire 141 finally made quiet.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said can you pass me that?” Graves looked mildly annoyed. Farah and Ghost were exchanging looks to make sure they both heard it.

Price chalked it up to mishearing until the item, a mug, was in Graves’s hand.

“Thank you, dumpling.”

The reaction was immediate. Soap coughed so hard his face turned red. Gaz stared at them. Ghost had his face on the table but it wasn’t clear if he was laughing or crying.

Graves poured the coffee into the mug and made the escape before anyone could manage to get words.

Price just stared at where Graves was.

Dumpling??

-

For a while, it seemed to have stopped. No big deal. Probably just Graves in a silly mood.

Price was talking about how Brandy was made after Graves asked. He had a feeling he was just humoring his interests, but Price knew Graves didn't like talking that much, so they both got something out of it.

"Stud muffin, I really don't get how you remember all this stuff." Graves's accent thickened when he said that.

Price paused, just staring at him for a minute. Like before, it mostly caught him off guard, not made him upset.

"What did you call me?"

"Stud muffin. American phrase." Graves smiled at him. "So about the distilling."

"What does it mean?"

"It's just a nickname, John. What else were you going to say?"

Price couldn't remember, feeling more flustered than usual. He ended up picking a random spot and guessing by the way Graves smirked, it was the wrong one.

While Graves was away, he looked it up.

stud·muf·fin

/ˈstədˌməf(ə)n/

a man perceived as sexually attractive, typically one with well-developed muscles.

Price felt his face heat up even more. He had learned from Alex that dumpling was just a term of endearment, but stud muffin seemed substantially more flirty.

And in public!

While they were getting in the car, Graves leaned into him. "Thanks for the night out, Doodlebug."

Price's internal monologue was just screaming. "Any... Any um..." He took a deep breath. "Anytime."

Graves laughed a little.

-

The next one. The next one Price already knew.

"Ain't you a Casanova." Every time. Every time Graves used one of these godforsaken nicknames, his accent dripped in his voice like honey and Price wanted to drown in it. Normally, Graves kept it carefully tamped down, trying to sound professional and neutral. Price would be a liar if he ever said he didn't absolutely love his voice.

Price found himself just staring again.

Graves stared back at him for a minute, still smiling but there was a bit of tension to his shoulders.

"Yes." Price said slowly and Graves laughed hard.

"I love you so much, beau." This nickname, Price was more than familiar with. It meant handsome in French and Graves used it pretty often.

"I love you too, honey?" Price said the nickname like a question and Graves's lips pursed slightly.

-

The next time, they were in bed. More precisely, Price was in Graves. It was slow, lazy sex, more kissing than thrusting between them.

"Oh, Lover boy, don't know how I managed without you." Graves mumbled above him, moving to straddle him.

Once again, sirens in Price's brain. He felt so flustered suddenly and at a loss for words. Graves didn't seem to notice, continuing to move.

Once they were done, Price hugged him to his chest.

Lover boy might be his favorite yet. Though, that may just be because of how Graves says it. Or what Graves said it with. Or anything.

Price held Graves tight so he wouldn't look up and see how red he was.

-

He stopped. Two weeks and no one new nicknames. No reappearance of any of the old ones either. Price was back to strictly being sweetheart and if it was special occasion, beau.

"I can't fucking live like this." He groaned into his pillows. Just the thought of Graves's voice, calling him those nicknames, made him melt. They were all so damn cute and Graves was so fucking cute and...

Price stood up and went to find him. He ended up cornering him in the hallway, watching him press against the wall.

"Everything alright, John?"

"You stopped using the nicknames. The cute southern ones."

Graves looked surprised before blushing. "Ah. Yes. I..."

"Why?"

"Well... I only really did them to tease you... But you didn't seem to like them so I stopped."

Price stared at him.

"You're doing it again! When you just look at me and you don't talk. I thought you didn't like them so I stopped!"

"I like them. A lot."

"Oh." Graves stared up at him. "Which one was your favorite?"

"Lover boy." No hesitation. "I thought it was cute..."

Graves laughed softly. "You were so dramatic. I thought you were going to rip my head off, pumpkin."

"I also like when you use your accent. It sounds pretty." Price pressed against him, trapping him. "Use it more."

"That an order lover boy?"

"It is, stud muffin."

Graves clearly shut down, having almost the same reaction Price did. Hearing that phrase in his british accent made his thoughts go fuzzy.

Price left before his brain started working again.

"God I love that man."

[pianokantzart]

Trying to translate a scene...

...or... at least a few simple sentences of a scene, specifically when Mario and Luigi are in the warp pipe in the Japanese dub of The Super Mario Bros Movie: X

In the English version, the exchange goes like this: Mario: "It's all going to be okay!" Luigi: "How is this going to be okay!?"

But in Japanese, it goes something like this (assuming I didn't mishear anything):

Mario: "Luigi! Shinpai sero na!" Luigi: "Niisan! Shinpai dayo!"

I know Japanese sentence structure is subject-object-verb. I know "shinpai" means worry, concern, or anxiety. "Na" at the end of a sentence can mean a lot of things: seeking confirmation, a rhetorical statement, or an imperative sentence (i.e a command). My guess is that it's seeking confirmation. Luigi ends his response with "dayo," which is often a pushier, more informal version of "desu," which I think is something of an english-equivalent of "to be"? (don't quote me on this I could be completely wrong.)

I don't know what "sero" means. If I'm hearing correct, and my source is correct, it's apparently either an auxiliary verb indicating a causative, an auxiliary verb indicating that someone has permission to do something, or an honorific for others' actions.

With all this in mind, this is my current take on the translation... Mario: "Luigi! You're worried!" Luigi: "Big Bro! This is worrying!!!" (see edit for correction!)

But there's a huge chance I got something wrong. Anyone who actually knows Japanese, please please please feel free to correct me!

EDIT: I got feedback from someone who's Japanese!

Big thanks to @hug-monster for the help! Mario doesn't say "Shinpai sero na!" he says "Shinpai suru na." Suru means "do." With this in mind, "na" in this context is an informal way of saying "not." So, put together, what Mario is actually saying is "Luigi! Don't worry!"

In this context, a more accurate translation of Luigi's response is "Bro! I am worried!"

[softness-and-shattering]

Saw/shared a post that mentioned 'youtube grammar' yesterday and I checked the tag and

Its basically the thing where people mishear words or phrases and then say it wrong. Some examples are

'manner of fact' instead of 'matter of fact', 'eck cetera' instead of 'et cetera' 'I could care less' v 'I couldn't care less'

And the poster blamed this on lowered education standards, lack of education, and basically people not learning grammar rules and not being able to break down what language a word is from to figure out pronounciation. Im not saying thats wrong, I dont know.

But I also have a running joke/recognition with friends who are bilingual or speak multiple languages, about how sounds get mixed up your head, and sometimes you'll even think of the right word but your muscle memory will write or type another. The example that started the conversation in earnest was me spelling the word 'pneumonic' instead of 'mnemonic'. (If you're going ooh this is his tumblr, hi! :D).

In a comment I was just writing, I wrote think instead of thing. I knew the word I wanted was thing, its the word I thought, its not the word I typed.

Also today I wrote 'mood' instead 'move'.

Its not a lack of education, or a misunderstanding of grammar, or mislearing a phrase. My fingers just mess it up sometimes, because somehow the link between thought and typing has to do with the sounds, not the root or the spelling or possibly even the language. Because, pneumonic.

I dont know if this holds the same with the spoken word, I dont know what those pathways are, and to begin with Im neither a linguist nor neurologist. Im just noticing patterns with myself and my friends.

If anyone does know facts or science about this, please do chime in!

[planet-crait]

Time for Crock to the Future! This is another one I’ve been curious to get to. Not as curious as Founders Day but still curious.

Wait Hazels dad only has nine Toes? Uhh come again Cosmo? What kind of toe incident gets you chainsaws? But ohhh nice Hazels dad is getting an award! I wonder if we’ll really get into the work exactly he does.

You know persistence is something good when you work in a field involving the supernatural. I do love that he refused to let doubt get him down and make him give up. AJ founded that when he was ten?? When in the show? Cuz they spent the entire time as ten? It’s kind of cute he looks up to AJ so much. I wonder how old he is compared to AJ?

One Hazel your outfit is absolutely adorable you rock pink I love it. Ohhh I see what the show did there. Fourth wall breaks can be done well take note poorly done shows with fourth wall breaks! But wait. How does a paranormal detector…work if they’re trying to prove they even exist? And why keep the paranormal out wouldn’t you want them to reveal themselves? Also is that a Mark reference?

Once again why does Hazels dad mention magic but also doubt the existence of fairy godparents??? How does a paranormal believer draw the line at magic? It doesn’t make sense.

Hazel? Really? You just ran in. Oh wow AJ comes in early lolz. The signs in the show continue to send me every time I notice them like this one with AJ.

Just brilliant hilarious.

They’re really going to steal a small child’s bag? Like is that really legal? And AJ is just chill with this? I have major questions. Why would they do that to an employees child like this feels so beyond sus to me. Are we supposed to distrust the institute? But Hazels dad works there? I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this.

I appreciate Hazel being so concerned with making sure her dad has an amazing night but uh your dad’s boss ran off with your purse in a somewhat probably illegal manner so maybe bring that up? Especially since your godparents are on there??

VIVA LA PLUTO I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL.

Wait…am I agreeing with Crocker? Shit. Serious question though why does AJ employ Crocker if he tortured him as his friends as kids? Or does he just. Not care cuz Crocker gave him A’s? I mean it tracks I guess.

I love how he declares his full name seemingly only for the audience he doesn’t know is their and Hazel calls him out. Idk sometimes fourth wall breaks can be funny.

Crocker…I doubt anyone listens to you I’m pretty sure you built that booth yourself. Hazel. Are you really wanting to ask the man clearly obsessed with fairies for help finding said fairies? Is this really a smart life choice here?

Oh he’s a janitor. That makes more sense. Okay does AJ actually have some hair now or??? Wait Fairy atomizer 3000? But Hazels dad doesn’t think Fairy’s could possibly exist so why does THAT exist besides raising the stakes? Why…does AJ think fairies are dangerous? Legit why? I saw and AU that’s interesting wherein AJ does think they’re dangerous and I thought it was a neat concept but I didn’t realize it had roots in the show itself. I’m assuming he must because why else would you build a machine to destroy something you know nothing about? But why would he think they’re dangerous? I have so many questions I doubt will be answered.

Guys maybe stop talking in front of the humans wanting to deatomize you? I love how Cosmo mishears words though I just. I feel that in my soul as someone who also regularly mishears words and has to ask people to repeat themselves because brain short circuited idk it makes me feel seen.

Why are you bragging about handing out F’s? Like that’s not a good teacher trait. Crocker…uh…you’re obsessed that’s true. Even if you weren’t obsessed the handing out F’s thing would also likely turn people away from giving you a teaching position.

AJ…I know it’s good for Cosmo and Wanda the leather is distracting you but also PRIORITIES. Also how did Hazel get a real leather bag???? Those things are pricey? Sturdy for sure. Will last forever yeah but she’s so young!

They’re really going to leave the suspected fairies unsupervised? Uhhh okay off you go. WOW Crocker it took you this long to figure that out? You’ve gotten slow. Smart kiddo grab what you know is the fairies sacrifice the bag.

HAZEL FRIES REALLY? In such a fancy bag? Oh wow another Timmy reference. No names just their last godkid but yeah Timmy continues to kind of haunt the narrative I’m digging it. I just realized though Cosmo and Wanda didn’t have a godkid between Crocker and Timmy which is…a long time to not have a godkid when apparently fairy world is also short on godparents? I know this is just canon from the Og show but it sure is a strange choice from the original writers.

Cosmo maybe uh. Don’t reveal your weakness out loud. Or joke about a giant net yep okay there it is. Yep. How does Crocker have a giant net? Why does no one question its existence?

Oh Hazels dad is giving his speech over Crocker getting the equipment. Oh and he’s looking at Cosmo and Wanda. He knows. Without a doubt Hazel has fairies. Will this be an issue? Probably not. It should because previously someone finding out about a kids fairies got the fairies taken away and memories erased.

Cosmo. Read the room. Oh Timmy again. Oh only his last name getting dropped. I wonder how long they’ll avoid saying his first name. I am curious if Hazel will ever met him in later seasons. Hazel how did you forget about that they just told you their magic is useless.

Wait Crocker isn’t a Ghost why would it capture him??? I don’t understand how that will work?

Hazel uh that’s not a great line lolz.

How did the aliens sneak in and not get caught??????? Uh how? If the scanner can scan fairies they’ve never seen why would it miss aliens we know exist? And does no one notice their skin is green?

Lolz uh AJ why keep Crocker if he keeps interrupting the ceremony? Also Crocker literally assaulted AJ like That should also be a problem. Like good on him for having a backup but still. Cute Hazel is so proud of her dad.

Overall this was a fine episode. I wonder if Crocker will reappear and go after Hazel? I also have some questions on the production end. I know their was previous ideas to have Timmy be the one to have founded the institute but that was scrapped and I’m curious as to why and what this means for Timmy’s potential future within the show. Was this a network forced change or did the writers decide they didn’t want to reveal Timmy too soon.

I’m personally torn on this. On the one hand the original show never got a proper ending which sucks for fans of the original but this show deserves to be its own thing and not be just about Timmy again (heavens know that’s one of the few things I really dislike about Rebels is it repeatedly being used to further TCW characters and arcs at the sheer detriment of the characters if the new show) but also having Timmy’s fate so up in the air especially when it’s clear he was special to Cosmo and Wanda and more so then Hazel is so far and probably honestly ever will be. Like very very early on Cosmo and Wanda were telling Timmy they loved him and Hazel hasn’t gotten that. It raises questions about if something happened that has them putting up walls to not get hurt again or if it’s just Timmy was beyond special to them and they don’t normally get so close to their godkids.

I have a feeling that part won’t ever be explored in the show but it would be cool and I would love to see some resolution for Timmy in something not even necessarily in this show just…something. Though admittedly I have a feeling he will eventually show up based on original ideas for this episode and the way he haunts the narrative. That is if we get a season 2 which so far I really hope we do get a season 2. Onto the next one!

[noodyl-blasstal]

Cool, Calm, and Collegiate - Chapter 4

Day 4 of @blupjeansweek is the prompt "Duet." I went with a classic.

Read below or on Ao3. Catch up with yesterday's here if you missed it.

-

“Are you going to go tonight?” Lucretia asks. “I know how much you love to socialise.” She smiles so he knows she’s only joking with him.

He laughs along with her softly, but doesn’t answer.

“Barry?”

“Uh…” He looks into the crowd and finds Lup. She smiles brightly enough that he forgets a bit of the panic he’s feeling.

“I’m in.” He hears Lup say from across the room.

“Yeah. Er, yeah, I think I will.” Barry turns back and nods at Lucretia, who has the grace to wipe the shock off her face quickly.

“Big fan of…” Lucretia pauses and glances at Lup. “... singing, are you?”

“I’m not a singer, but people are always telling me I should be more social.” Barry shrugs and tries not to look too defensive.

“Okay… well, you should know that I double checked the policies and it’s not against any of the guidance.” Lucretia says, as if Barry’s supposed to know what she’s talking about.

“Singing?” Barry asks. If there’s an anti-karaoke policy then he absolutely needs to know so that he can read it and find out the story behind it.

Lucretia gives him a long, searching look. “You don’t think there’s anything else there might be a policy about which I think is relevant?”

Barry thinks… and thinks… and thinks. “Nothing that comes to mind.”

“Okay Barry, good luck. Sing something fun for me.” Lucretia pats him on the arm and pushes him towards the summer staff. Davenport is already there.

“I think it’s good to show the staff you’re not some terrifying tenured monster with a fancy office and no more compassion.” Davenport says by way of greeting.

“They think I’m a terrifying tenured monster with a fancy office and no more compassion?” Barry asks, he’s alarmed at the concept. How could anyone think he didn’t care, Barry exuded caring, well, okay, maybe he can be slightly gruff, but he carries tissues in case he sees students crying (a worryingly common occurrence on campus around examination period)! He cares so deeply.

Davenport cocks his head. “Not you personally, you know, just the machine of it all. We’re big scary cogs now. Not the little ones doing laps and laps to help us turn.”

Barry doesn’t even begin to know how to reply.

“Oh, here we are.” Davenport disappears into the crowd as the sound of a very enthusiastic version of YMCA slams into them.

Barry’s soon absorbed into another group though, one he wishes he wasn’t part of.

“It’s so nice that you feel comfortable enough to come out with the other staff.” Lydia says at his elbow.

“Honestly, it’s so brave.” Edward says from the other side.

“Thanks.” Barry replies gruffly. He tries hard not to let the exhaustion seep into his voice, but he’s 48, there’s nothing these two can do to him that bullies didn’t do at school 40 years ago and 30 years ago, and if he’s honest, 20 years ago. Barry’s frankly tired of their behaviour.

“So how long have you and Lup been together?” Lydia asks.

Barry is fairly sure he mishears. “We’ve known each other for nine years.”

“Oh, fascinating, long term. Is that why she was allowed to teach on the programme?”

Barry turns sharply and Lydia’s smile is perfectly in place, and perfectly poisonous.

“I don’t make recruitment decisions, but Dr Tacco’s CV is very impressive and I believe she was one of the first hires this year.” Barry uses his most measured tone in the hope it doesn’t betray exactly how angry he is. How dare they imply that Lup doesn’t deserve her place here. She’s smashing all of her teaching, he knows that for a fact (he’s seen the feedback and observed some of her sessions). She’s creative, passionate, and knowledgeable. The perfect person to be teaching the topics they’re looking at. The twins however, they’re certainly wow-ing some of the students, but they seem to kick up negative energy everywhere they go. Their classes have higher instances of bullying, bigger disparities in learning, and less support for students with accessibility needs than any of the others. They could only wish they were more like Lup.

“Maybe a diversity quota. They do have some people here with… interesting backgrounds.” Edward muses loudly.

Barry resists the obvious trap, although it’s difficult. “I’m sorry you think that way, Edward. It must be difficult being so concerned with backgrounds and unable to look past that. Anyway, I’m going to get a drink.”

He leaves as fast as he can and hopes the bar isn’t in the opposite direction. He finds it just as Davenport takes the stage to croon out the beginning of Sail On by The Commodores. Barry would stop to listen, but he’s scared the twins will get him again.

By the time he’s armed with a gigantic novelty cocktail in a hollow pineapple (he asked for what was good assuming it’d be a house beer or something), Sloane and Hurley are singing a particularly avant-garde version of Telephone. “I’ll have one of whatever that is.” Lup says to the bar tender, pointing enthusiastically at Barry’s pineapple.

“You can have this one if you want it?”

“Nah, it’s more fun if you have to drink it.”

“It tastes like sugar.”

“Exactly. Delicious!”

He shakes his head, takes a long sip of his drink, and relaxes. Lup’s good for him.

Once the drink’s in her hand she’s tugging him towards the stage. “Let’s find the book!”

“Okay?” Barry lets himself be dragged along. He’s not entirely sure what kind of book she needs right now, but he’s not one to argue with the impulse to read.

“There!” Lup points at a table to the side of the stage and drags him faster.

Once they arrive she’s immediately flicking through the pages. “Could you pass me a slip please?” She asks, reaching out her hand without looking away from the book.

Barry spies a stack of small papers further down the table. “These?”

“Perfect, thanks.” She scribbles on it while he waits. “Now you go!” Lup nudges the book towards him.

He flips the pages gingerly. They’re lists of songs, which, in hindsight makes sense, because he obviously agreed to come here, to the place where karaoke happens, which generally does involve singing.

Barry looks up. “Lup, I don't know what I'm doing…” Barry knows he sounds irrational, but how is he supposed to do this? It'd be mortifying to embarrass himself in front of the other teaching staff, even more so in front of Lup. He wants her to think positively about him. It's important.

“No one does.” Lup says and smiles like it's that simple.

“No, I really really don't know… which song…? How do I…?” His questions keep cutting themselves off before he can even really ask them.

“Hey, woah! Cha’girl’s got ya. This isn't about knowing what you're doing or being good or any of that. It's all attitude, my dude. Gotta just sell it.’

“What if I haven't got anything to sell?” Barry asks, because honestly, he's got no idea what his karaoke wares would even be.

Lup considers him for a moment, scrutinising him like he’s a particularly tricky puzzle. “Do you want to sit this out?”

“No.” He says quickly. He’d say it surprises him, but he doesn’t know that it does. He’s been feeling more adventurous, more sure of himself, more confident. He can try this, it’s fine if he doesn’t like it, but he’s a scientist, he’s gotta try.

“Are you sure, because I’ll never force you to do something you’re not comfortable with and I know this is outside your usual wheelhouse.” There’s so much concern in her face, it’s nice to feel so cared about.

“I’m trying new things.” Barry raises his pineapple to emphasise the point.

“Can’t argue with pineapples.” Lup says. “Okay, how about we sing something together?”

“Together?”

“You and I. Can’t fall off the karaoke tightrope if I’m holding you up.” Lup raises herself onto her tiptoes and demonstrates her imaginary tightrope prowess.

“What if I pull you down when I fall?” Barry’s still not entirely convinced.

“It’s karaoke, people love it when you fuck up.” Lup replies, unphased.

“Oh.” Well if it’s that simple.

“Honestly, the worst you can be is mediocre, which is also fine.” Lup shrugs.

“Okay.” Barry says. “I’ll do it.”

“Okay you’ll sing with me?” Lup sounds delighted. It’s nice to know he brought her that joy.

“Yeah. Yeah, what shall we sing?” Barry glances down at the page he’s on. “There’s the Monster Mash… that’s about science?”

“So it has to be about science for you to sing it with me?” Lup pretends to look horrified. Well, he hopes she’s pretending.

“No, I just…”

“I cannot believe our friendship is nothing but grave robbing and reanimating corpses to you.” Lup wipes an imaginary tear from her eye.

“How about…” Barry flips some more pages.” …She Blinded Me With Science?”

“I’m your hot Japanese lab assistant?”

“Good point, nevermind.” Barry flips past that, keeps flipping, finishes the book and starts again.

“C’mon, you’ve got this.”

“Erm… okay, hear me out… Short Skirt, Long Jacket?”

“I do like to cut through red tape.” Lup looks pleased.

“So we’ll do that one? Together?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Okay. That’s good. We can just do that.” Barry starts writing the song title on the scrap of paper. “Er… how do we know who does which bit?”

“There’s not really rules. We can just sing all of it or split it up in advance if you want?”

“Next on up we have Lup and Barry Bluejeans. Give it up everybody!” There’s a smattering of polite applause.

“Oh… Sorry… I didn’t…” he had thought using the silly name would make her smile, but he’s definitely inadvertently made it sound like they were married instead. Thankfully Lup’s laughing too hard to look upset about it.

“C’mon.” She marches towards the stage.

“Are you the Bluejeanses?” The man who looks like space Elvis asks.

“Yep.” Lup says without missing a beat. Barry’s stomach clenches, probably nerves.

“Here you go then.” He hands them the microphones.

“It’ll come up on the screen there.” Lup points as she passes him a microphone. “Don’t worry about perfect, they can smell weakness, just make it fun, you got dance moves? Crack ‘em out.”

Barry has dance moves, he does, but he’s not entirely sure what’s okay and what isn’t. He’ll just stay relatively still, maybe some gentle rocking. It’ll be fine.

–

“NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH, NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH!” Lup yells into the mic as Barry gets a bit of breath back from the leaping. He’s gotta be ready for the next chorus. He finally figured out the back bend.

“I like a girl with a short skirt, and an looooooooooooooooooooooooooooong…” Lup sings as Barry bends back to lay a hand partially on the floor.

“Jacket!” He shouts happy and inverted.

–

“That was incredible.” Barry laughs as they leave the stage.

“Those dance moves Barry! Sildar’s been holding out on me.” Lup sounds positively delighted, it's nice that she's laughing with him. There's no sense of her mocking him.

“Well… They’re hard to explain without music… uh… you know.” Barry gestures flippantly.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna talk about it then fine. But we’re doing the Monster Mash next. I’ve already got the slip.”

“Who am I to argue with the perfect plan?” Barry grins his most Frankenstein-esque grin. This being social stuff had caught on in a flash.

–

Heeeellllllllllooooooo ‘Ko!

Thought I’d stopped? Think again! That’s right, there’s nothing but postcards, baby. I’ve got a bunch of stamps and I’m not afraid to use them. I know I already sent you the video, but singing with Barry was hilarious. He’s nearly as good a duet buddy as you, though obviously not as good, that goes without saying (but I’ll say it anyway or you’ll be mad.)

The ridiculous drinks are perfect and I’ll have to take you if you do come visit. Bring Kravitz if you’re worried about missing him while you’re gone (I know, I know, you don’t even care, it’s definitely not about that… now tell me how many nights you’ve spent alone in the last month?) But seriously, I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve it!

Love you!

Lup xxxxxxx

-

I hope you enjoyed reading! Want the next installment? Find it here.

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 8: You're Just Business

Summary: Loki confronts Theo about her avoidance of the other Avengers.

Author's Notes: Fun story/trivia about this song: In an interview with the Grammy Museum, it was revealed that some of the phrases in this first verse resulted from producer Tony Berg’s mishearing of Jon Foreman’s original lyrics: “You come ‘round like a prison ship” was misheard as “pirate ship”, and “You got a fist for a lower lip” was misheard as “fish.”  Ultimately, the band decided to record the song with the mondegreens as the song’s final lyrics. I like to think that Theo was aware of this little tidbit and it led to part of why she chose this particular song.

Side note, would anyone be interested if I shared more of these goofy little trivia bits/non-spoiler reasons that certain songs appear at certain times (and maybe even captions that Theo might have posted with the covers)? I’d share them on tumblr as a little “behind the scenes” sort of thing. 

I’m posting this a day early because tomorrow is the last day of helping my parents move, which also means saying farewell to the house I grew up in; I’m sure I’ll be all up in my feelings and distracted, so rather than risk missing my (self-imposed) deadline, I’m doing something wild and posting early.

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: None?

Word Count: 5,314

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: I need you (to be wrong) - Switchfoot

You come 'round like a pirate ship You're just business You got a fish for a lower lip You're just business You're the parentless, nightmare kid You're just business You don't answer for any of this You're just business

The end of onboarding meant the return of lazy days off.

Other than the sound of a sleety-drizzle outside, it was probably quiet enough in the tower to hear a pin drop. Any reprieve from commotion could best be described as blissful, and not needing to peer around every corner so Theo didn’t run into the Avengers brought a different kind of relief. 

In a normal day, Natasha and Steve were always the first to emerge, since they liked early morning training sessions. With how they timed their workouts, Theo typically had to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn just to have 30 minutes to get into the kitchen, make herself a cup of coffee, and then slink back to her corner of the tower or get the hell out, which meant going down to the hospital to get ready for work.

Then again, when Theo got back to her suite at night and heard the commotion and the raucous laughter echoing from down the hall, something painful twisted in Theo’s chest, making her miss her life before the Avengers. It didn’t help that ever since she visited Mémère, Theo caught herself weighing whether it was worth trying to make friends with anyone while she was here.

She hadn’t planned on staying with the group after her favor was done, so on the one hand she didn’t want to grow attached, then ditch them. On the other hand, now that she couldn’t see her other friends, life had become little more than work, which was a lonely way to live. And though she loathed to admit it, Loki’s visits and Julie’s perspective on the Avengers made Theo wonder if her trepidation was truly warranted.

Then again, the Avengers didn’t know the full extent of her history or her powers. Given the reactions from people who knew her sob story, she didn’t anticipate they’d like her very much if they learned the truth. That meant every social interaction felt like it required Theo to put on a show; every word, every action was a calculated risk. She’d been doing it for so long that it felt like second nature, but it didn’t mean she liked it.  

However, none of her concerns around socializing mattered, at least for the time being. According to the side discussions before the most recent debrief,  all of the Avengers had plans for the weekend which took them away from New York, so she had the entire tower to herself. Wanda and Vision snuck out on a weekend getaway to Maine, Tony and Bruce were presenting at some science conference in Switzerland (and Peter tagged along), the super soldiers agreed to help with an event for the US military down in DC, Natasha and Yelena decided to visit Clint and his family out at their farm, Shuri happened to be in Oakland, and Thor had gone to New Asgard for something. Theo assumed that Loki had gone with him, since he was also an Asgardian prince and all. 

Regardless, Theo’s agenda for the day consisted of one thing: reading. A mountain of SHIELD reports loomed on Theo’s desk ever since she started, consisting of both recent and past missions that would hopefully provide the context she needed to offer her expertise on the shadow creatures. Even if she would have rather been marathoning Queer Eye or visiting Mémère, a rainy Saturday morning without anyone around seemed like just as good of a time as any to check the reports of her never-ending list of things to do. 

But even before she dug into the stack of reports, she needed coffee.

Theo padded through the halls of the tower, relishing the echo of her footsteps and the lack of chatter filling the air. Upon entering the kitchen, Theo decided that rather than work her way through the reports in her suite, she’d indulge in a change of scenery and set up shop at the kitchen island.

After starting the coffee, Theo brought out her laptop and the pile of reports, scattering them across the breakfast bar for easy review. She placed her headphones over her ears, cranked up her music, and became so absorbed in reading about the fallout of Ultron and the Sokovia Accords that she forgot about the coffee brewing… 

… She also failed to observe that she wasn’t the only one home. 

A coffee mug appeared next to her out of seemingly thin air, to which Theo yelped and practically flew out of her seat.

“What the – “ she tore her headphones off and whirled around to find Loki standing there, holding his own cup of coffee. “Jesus, Loki, creep around much?”

“I was in no way creeping. Your decision to wear headphones impeded your ability to hear me.” Loki’s tone remained cool and unaffected as he took a sip of his own coffee, leaning back against the counter. “Perhaps you might demonstrate some gratitude toward me; after all, I prepared your coffee for you.” 

“In my defense, I also didn’t realize I wasn’t the only one home – I thought you went back to New Asgard with Thor.” Theo protested, trying to ignore the searing heat that rose on her cheeks. She palmed the mug of coffee in one hand, glancing briefly at the swirls of steam rising from the ceramic cup.

“I’ve no reason to be in New Asgard at present.” He shrugged, before narrowing his eyes at Theo. “If you believed you were alone, why not use Stark’s audio system to listen to your music? It is not as if you would cause a disruption.” 

“It’s a habit,” Theo shrugged casually, allowing her focus to travel to her new teammate. Unlike Theo, whose heart still pounded in her chest from the surprise, Loki's casual posture and amused expression left him looking cool as a cucumber, because of course he would. “Besides, high quality headphones have better sound quality than any stereo system Tony Stark could build – it’s easier to hear the nuance and little details in the recordings.” 

Loki cocked a skeptical brow at her before sauntering over to the refrigerator. As he bent down to rummage through the contents, Theo took advantage of the opportunity to drink in the full sight of Loki in the mornings. 

Loki’s Saturday morning attire was more relaxed than she had ever seen from him. Black joggers slung low on his hips and followed the line of his slim form, while a gray t-shirt clung to his torso and hinted at the toned muscle beneath. He pulled his black curls back into a loose bun, but left one strand hanging down to frame his face, highlighting a jawline that cut like glass. 

For all the jokes Julie made, she wasn’t kidding about Loki’s attractiveness. But that was like saying the sky was blue - no one would question that a god was objectively attractive.

In comparison, he probably thought Theo looked a bit sloppy in her oversized sweatshirt and yoga pants, her own hair tossed up in what looked less like a bun and more like a rat’s nest…

Channeling her inner gremlin, as Max would say.

Loki turned around and caught Theo studying him. 

“Are you enjoying the view?” He smirked.

“I’ve never seen you in anything remotely casual before,” Theo said, mirroring his expression. “Looks good on you.”

Loki hummed, something devilish twitching on his lips to match the glint in his eye. “I should hope so.” 

Theo rolled her eyes. Of the many traits Loki held, humility did not seem to be high on the list. Then again, Theo knew that if she was that attractive, she wouldn’t be humble about it, so it wasn’t like she could hold that against him.

Instead of feeding Loki’s ego, Theo returned her attention to the Sokovia report. She knew herself well enough to know if she didn’t make substantial progress on the reports that day, she would never catch up.

However, Loki either did not get the hint that Theo wanted to be left to work or he chose to ignore it, positioning himself across the island from Theo. With each passing moment, Theo felt his burning stare intensify.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll hit you over the head with a chair.” Theo threatened, not even glancing up from her work.

“Darling, such a temper from you this morning.” Loki practically purred. “I would have expected gratitude - after all, I prepared your morning coffee for you.” 

Theo rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the hint of a smile that quirked up. Of course the prince would make a big deal out of a small gesture. “Well, thank you for the coffee, your highness, now will you leave me alone to work?”

“How are you settling in?”

Ugh. 

He couldn’t have been that dense, right? He must have known Theo did not want to talk to him at that moment. No one became a renowned diplomat if they couldn’t understand basic social cues. 

“Fine,” Theo drawled, “Better if you leave me to read in peace.”

“You never choose to spend time in the common areas like this. Why today?”

A loaded question, delivered with a deceptively light tone, had Theo’s hair standing on the back of her neck. 

No, he wasn’t clueless or dense - Loki wanted something; information, probably.

Something unsettling lurched in Theo’s stomach.

“Because I thought I was going to be alone?” Irritation colored Theo’s response; she gritted her teeth, debating if she should try to divert the conversation or just piss him off so he’d leave her alone.

Her morals leaned towards the former, but her temper leaned towards the latter.

For the moment, she held her tongue.

“Perhaps this will surprise you, but you are allowed to venture into the common areas while others are around to spend your leisure time and… Do whatever it is that you are doing,” Loki casually gestured to the stack of papers scattered between them. “As you previously stated, you are not a princess to be locked away in a tower.”

“Currently, I’m reading reports,” Theo muttered, “And you’re proving to me exactly why I don’t do this in common areas – because you’re distracting me.” 

It took a significant amount of willpower not to slam her computer closed and retreat to her suite; after all, the heavily redacted report about Budapest that was next on her list looked like an enticing read.

“See, that brings me to my next question: why, when you have a beautiful Saturday morning to relax, are you spending your time reading reports and paperwork?” A playful, lighthearted tone graced Loki’s question, but Theo’s patience wore dangerously thin. “If you wish for quality reading material, you only need to ask. I’ve plenty of recommendations.”

“Okay, since apparently you refuse to get the hint, I’m just going to be blunt: I am trying to work. I don’t want to talk right now. Quite frankly, your impromptu interrogation is pissing me off. So for the love of all that is holy, can you leave me alone?” Theo huffed, outright glowering at Loki. 

“You may not be interested in speaking, but I’m certainly interested in answers to my question.” Loki arched a brow at Theo, sipping his coffee as if he could wait all day for a response.

“Because the world isn’t going to save itself and I have a lot of background knowledge to catch up on if I don’t want to fuck up one of these missions and get a bunch of people killed.” Theo’s frustration made its open debut, but amidst her ire she failed to hide the undercurrent of anxiety in her answer. 

Before Theo even finished, Loki’s demeanor shifted from taunting to serious - he must have recognized that he struck a nerve. 

Shit. 

She let her guard down and he latched onto it instantly… Careless mistakes like that could get her killed.

“Are you aware that it is not a requirement to memorize every piece of SHIELD’s history?” Loki leaned in so he could look at Theo over her laptop, face shifting to something unreadable before he continued. “Generally speaking, we have only enough knowledge to complete the individual mission. You need not push yourself to learn everything so that you might recall it at a moment’s notice.”

It wasn’t about knowing everything - it was about assessing the risks. Theo needed to know the history in order to understand the potential risks. If she was in an emergency department, she knew the environment. She knew the variables. She had control over her situation.

But in the field? Knowing anything was a laughable thought.

“It’s not about memorizing, it’s about learning what I got myself into,” Theo flatly replied, hoping to make up for her slip. “I know Fury is fond of leaving out important details in favor of creating a narrative, so I want to make sure I know what he hasn’t told me before I’m sent out into the line of fire.”

“And you believe reports are the way to learn such information?” Skepticism dripped from Loki’s question. 

“I didn’t say I liked it, but this,” Theo gestured to the mess of documents around her, refusing to let her nerves show once more, “is better than letting Fury trot me around like a prize horse or his little puppet.”

It was a half-truth; he didn’t need to know all the details, but perhaps she could spin it to take some of the pressure off.

“I do not believe you’re giving yourself enough credit.” Loki stepped around the island so he stood next to Theo, then shut her laptop so she would look him in the eye. He certainly accomplished the goal, but earned a frustrated groan from Theo in the process. “You’re an immensely sharp and powerful sorcerer – I can feel the magic pouring off you. You easily handle extreme physical duress during training, you effortlessly adapt to any social situation, and it has not escaped my attention that you’re extremely well-studied in a variety of areas.”

Sure, Loki saw Theo spar with Steve, and obviously they’d hung out a few times; they spoke at the party from the first night, and showed up to the soccer game and the bar show…  But a handful of interactions wouldn’t have been enough to draw those conclusions, right?  

Maybe it was a bluff, or an attempt at wooing her with his famed silver tongue so she would give him the information he wanted. 

It wouldn’t be the first time someone lied to her in hopes of gaining her trust. 

“First of all, I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or creeped out that you’ve been watching me so closely,” Theo retorted with a scowl. “Second of all, what’s your point?”

“If you are concerned about your ability to defend yourself on a mission, you need not fret.” Loki sounded cocky, almost arrogant – how would he know what they were up against? “You realize you are not the only one responsible for your safety in the field?”

“You really think that the others, who look at me like I’m a terror, give a shit about my safety?” “They do not believe you are a terror.” 

“Cool, tell that to my grandma when she has to deal with my dead body,” Theo muttered. She attempted to snatch her laptop from Loki, but he held firm.

Loki may have been nicknamed a silvertongue, but the only thing his tongue had done was piss Theo off. 

Enough was enough.

“ I don’t have time for this shit.” With a flick of her wrist, a swirl of shimmering runes encompassed the reports and her laptop, teleporting them back to her quarters. Theo snatched her coffee mug, then offered a final wave and a bratty sneer before transporting herself to her suite.

In the solitude of her suite, Theo let out a sigh.

So much for a peaceful Saturday morning.

I got a body, but I lost my mind I'm just business Placeholder with a bottom line I'm just business Please don't take this personally It's just business

Standing in the kitchen, Loki gaped at the empty seat before him and replayed the events which led to his current predicament.

In some ways, he could have foreseen such an outcome. Initial interactions with Theo had been far more successful than Loki anticipated, to the degree that he almost believed Theo might actually wish to befriend him. Thus, it was inevitable that he would ruin his progress in a truly spectacular manner.

In his defense, walking into the kitchen and finding Theo there had not been something he anticipated. The circumstances practically begged for Loki to engage; when else would he see Theo anywhere besides her workplace or mandatory Avengers engagements? 

Yet, after a handful of occasions spent casually making each other’s acquaintance, Loki expected something with a bit more banter, or at least something more lighthearted. Instead, she met his questions with barbed remarks and vicious glares, culminating in another disappearing act.

The Theo that Loki encountered in the kitchen was vastly different from the Theo he first met, or the one that he spent time with in the research library; that Theo seemed confident and self-assured, sharp-witted and formidable regardless of the circumstances. But when caught off-guard, she became aggressive and downright irascible, to the extent that Loki questioned whether or not it was the same woman who he’d spoken to before.

However, deep within Loki’s chest, something uncomfortable twisted. He recognized the behavior, mostly because he had once acted in such a manner;  if he was entirely honest with himself, he knew exactly what motivated such behavior:

Protecting oneself at all costs.

Seeing Theo in such a state brought to mind his mother’s gardens in Asgard. When flowers were cut and taken from the gardens, they eventually wilted and withered, unable to adapt to their new surroundings. Roses, one of his mother’s favorite flowers, eventually developed thorns all along the stem, which made cutting the blooms a much more challenging task; a defense mechanism that evolved over the course of millennia. 

Like the thorns that protected the roses, Theo’s hostility served as a defense mechanism, an instinct developed to protect herself from something which previously scarred her, something which might have caused her to wither and wilt until nothing more than a shadow of her former self.

In Theo’s behavior, Loki saw himself. There was once a time where he had been so guarded that the other Avengers called him a cactus because of his prickly, sullen demeanor. Though the moniker had become a relic, the instinct remained firmly ingrained upon Loki’s psyche.

Theo was by no means a cactus, but she certainly had some thorns. 

Loki sighed, smoothing calloused fingers over his hair. Ideally, he could remedy the situation with minimal lingering damage to the delicate kinship he struck with Theo; yet the manner in which he could achieve such a feat eluded him.

If he approached too soon, she would only recoil, particularly if she felt cornered. If he waited too long to speak to her, she might suspect his intentions stemmed from less than savory desires - exploitation or a means to an end.

After much dithering, Loki settled upon a plan: if he did not see Theo around lunch, he would knock on her door. If she failed to respond, he would try again at dinner time.

If he still had not heard anything, he would send her a message through his mobile, leaving the onus upon Theo - if she wished to interact she could, however he would not push further.

Any and all confidence Loki held in the plan dwindled when noon came and went with no sign of the silver shadow. Despite the aura of magic radiating from within, Loki’s knocks were met with silence, only dampening his spirits further.

To be on the receiving end of rejection brought a certain discomfort which Loki had not outright encountered in quite some time, and it remained at least as unpleasant as he remembered (if not moreso). Midgardians never outright rejected him - first, they feared him, but over time some came to lust after him. As for the Asgardians, they knew better than to disrespect a crown prince, even if his lineage brought disgrace upon the throne. The more he dwelled on the matter, the clearer it became that he could not remember the last time someone outright turned away from him in such a blatant manner.

Without any sign of Theo in the afternoon, or around the time when the others typically took their evening meal, Loki braced himself for the worst and made the trek down the corridor.

As he approached, the faint sound of music could be heard from inside Theo’s quarters, which combined with her aura confirmed she was present. After pausing for a moment to gather himself, Loki rapped his knuckles upon the door.

Much to his surprise, the music stopped. Footsteps grew louder as Theo approached the door. The noise ceased for a beat, then the lock clicked, and the door swung wide.

Theo stood before him, arms crossed and brows drawn tight as she scrutinized Loki.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or annoyed by your stubbornness.” Theo skipped any formal greeting, leaning against the doorframe as she gave him a once-over. “Then again, I’m the one that answered the door, so maybe your strategy is effective, or I’m a glutton for punishment. Either way, are you here to continue badgering me about work, or is there something else you want?” 

Loki drew in a deep breath. 

“It seems I struck a nerve,” he observed. “For that, I apologize.”

“Is that all?” Theo eyed Loki warily, as if she knew other matters remained on his conscience.

Loki sighed; it seemed as good of a time as any to address what Midgardians often referred to as ‘the elephant in the room.’

“I noticed you’ve not yet made the acquaintance of the others.”

“I socialize with the other hospital staff,” Theo countered.

Loki scoffed. “I am referring to the other Avengers.”

“I know.” Theo answered as if she had no intention of continuing the conversation. Loki raised his eyebrows at her in a silent question; she rolled her eyes and sighed. “Look, I’m sure they’re fine, but I’m not really interested.”

“Dare I inquire as to why?”

“For one thing, the only reason they’re pretending to be interested in me is because Fury gave them the mission of convincing me to stay on as an Avenger.” Theo cocked an eyebrow at Loki as she slouched further into the doorframe. “So it’s not like they’re really trying to be my friend. And besides, most of them were more than quick to jump to conclusions about who, or what kind of person, I was.”

“If that is so, then why have you not shunned my company?” Loki challenged. “How do you know I am not making your acquaintance to win over the director?”

“I don’t,” she admitted, “but you don’t seem like the type of person to crave Nick Fury’s adoration, or like you’d let him make you his bitch. I suppose I could be wrong, though.” 

“Such rousing praise,” Loki drawled. “Truly, the utmost of faith you place upon me—“

“Okay, fine - you really want to know why I’m willing to talk to you?” Theo interrupted, silencing Loki in the process, “Because in that first meeting, you didn’t automatically assume I was the villain.” 

Something painful twisted in Loki’s stomach. Nowhere in the list of potential responses that Loki developed prior to asking the question was Theo’s answer, yet what she described was an experience he knew all too well. The memory of Barton’s initial reaction to Loki’s presence remained painfully vivid to the Asgardian, which only diminished Loki’s confidence in his argument. 

Still, Theo’s perceptions of the situation were not entirely true. “I was not the only Avenger who made no assumptions about your morality—” 

“Not out loud,” Theo agreed, “But you were the only one who didn’t look at me like I was some kind of terror. You actually looked at me as a person.”

If anyone could empathize with Theo’s experience, it would be Loki. Joining the Avengers, a group who he didn’t truly know or trust, and who didn’t know or trust him… For quite some time, Loki believed wholeheartedly that he made a terrible mistake. 

Months passed from when he first relented to Thor’s pleas to become an Avenger to when Loki partook in a movie night, and that only happened because Thor physically dragged Loki from his quarters. He lost count of the number of times he turned Maximoff down before finally relenting to her constant requests to spend time together. 

In the end, it took over a year for Loki to feel remotely comfortable simply existing in the common areas during the day, going on missions without his brother, or speaking to anyone that was not Thor. Even after so long, he still questioned whether the others valued his contributions to the team, or if they simply tolerated his presence.

“I will admit, the others are not always the most… open-minded, shall we say. Not in the beginning, at least.” Loki chose his words carefully, recognizing the delicate nature of the situation at hand. “However, I truly believe they have moved past the false assumptions, and I would highly recommend you use the opportunity to demonstrate that you are not the terror they assumed you to be.”

“And how do you know that they even want to get to know me?” Theo pressed, piercing blue eyes scrutinizing Loki’s every move.

“Because I was once in a similar position.” The answer slipped out before Loki could stop it. He carefully schooled the surprise from his features; meanwhile, Theo made no effort to hide her skepticism.

“I understand that you may not fully trust me yet – I’m the trickster god, I have a history of manipulating people. Quite frankly, it would be in your best interest not to trust me. But!” Loki admitted, then continued before Theo could get a word in edgewise: “You remind me quite a bit of myself, when I first became an Avenger. I believed the others assumed the worst in me. I held no trust in the others, and in turn they placed no trust in me. It remained as such for quite some time – too long, in hindsight. 

“The change in my relationship with my colleagues came when I finally relented to my brother and Maximoff’s incessant attempts to force me to socialize with the others. If it were not them, I would still remain hidden away in my quarters at all hours. 

“Honestly, at the time I desired nothing more than to kill them in a spectacular manner for their belligerent pestering and sickening optimism. But between you and I, it helped me far beyond simply becoming a part of the Avengers – it helped me move on from the past that used to define me.”

To be so genuinely forthcoming was a bold decision. Had it been anyone else, he would not have dared to reveal such information, particularly someone so new. However, Theo had a knack for drawing the unexpected from Loki, even if it often caught him by surprise. Additionally, the mystery surrounding Theo piqued his curiosity, which only grew with the reluctance to socialize with the others. 

Without taking a risk, there would be no reward.

Theo narrowed her eyes at the God of Mischief, chewing the inside of her cheek as she mulled over his words.

“I remind you of… you?” Distrust clung to every word, only amplified by the doubt written across her expression in big, bold letters.

“Well, yes,” Loki replied coyly. “but you are far more charming and engaging. When I first arrived, I was simply full of spite.” He chuckled, earning a hesitant smile at Theo as a faint hint of pink rose on her cheeks from his compliment. “Had there been no consequence, Stark would have gleefully made a spectacle of launching me off the top of the tower.”

Theo’s shoulders bounced as she chuckled at Loki’s remarks. A sense of relief washed over Loki - perhaps he hadn’t made a mess of things after all.

“The winter soldier, the scarlet witch, myself - at one point or another, we were enemies of various factions of the Avengers. Romanoff is a former black widow, as is Belova. If we can be accepted into the Avengers, I’ve no doubt that you can as well.” Loki assured her, his confidence building with every passing moment. “However, you must be willing to engage.”

Before Theo could roll her eyes and offer a snarky dismissal, Loki held up a finger to silence her.

“At least humor Maximoff once,” he bargained. “I’ve listened to her prattle on endlessly about her excitement at your addition to the Avengers ever since she learned the news, and if I have to endure any more of her moping because you’ve rejected her invitations to socialize, I very well might lose my mind.”

After far too long of a pause, Theo finally answered.

“Okay, fine. I will stop turning down the invites to hang out and I’ll try to ‘play nice’ with the others,” she relented, sounding none too pleased as she straightened up. “For the record, I never agreed to any of this. I am here reluctantly, at best.”

“Yes yes, the reluctant Avenger - you’re not the first one. I wrote the book on it.” Loki ribbed, earning a real laugh from Theo. “Now come, it is far too beautiful of a day to spend it reading such dreary reports. Why not spend your time on something you might enjoy?”

“You know it’s raining outside, right?” Theo pointed to a window behind her, where an onslaught of water undoubtedly pounded against the glass.

“Of course I do;” Loki lightly scoffed. “That’s why it is such a beautiful day - it is perfect for settling in with some literature and forgetting about the tomfoolery the rest of this dreadful realm subjects us to.”

Theo didn’t argue with him, but she continued to peer at him rather suspiciously. 

“You have worked non-stop ever since you started here. What is the phrase that you mortals love? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy? I fear you might become dreadfully dull if you keep this up.”

“Good thing my name isn’t Jack.” Theo winked, her quick-wit making its blessed return. 

“All work and no play makes for a rather wretched existence.” Loki amended his statement, smirking at Theo. “What you ought to do is put those reports away, find a novel that you actually enjoy, and join me in the sitting room to indulge in some reading. We might even listen to some of your music over the speakers, since you seem to be averse to silence yet easily startled when you wear your headphones.”

“I don’t know, this Budapest report looks like a great mystery to crack.” Theo shrugged, though her tone no longer held any trace of the tension or animosity that had previously dominated her replies.

Loki rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t bite back a smile. 

“Okay,” Theo finally agreed, “let me put this stuff away, and then I’ll come join you.”

As she joined him in the corridor, Loki concluded that one thing was certain: he much preferred Theo’s banter to her thorns. 

I need you to be wrong  (All along wе both were wrong) I need you to be wrong  (All along wе both were wrong)