#i will forever be thankful for the girl who

[julymusings]

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

i.

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded. 

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp. 

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field. 

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

[dylsluvrs]

ryomen sukuna x reader | college au [18+]

touchdown ch.1 ryomen sukuna wants to send you a message!

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 chapter. 1/?

ᡣ𐭩 word count.

ᡣ𐭩 a/n. hello readers! welcome to the first chapter of touchdown!! i hope you’re all having a great week so far! fake dating has forever been one of my favourite tropes ugh the angst opportunities make me feral. this will be a sort of slow chapter as we introduce everything, but i hope you enjoy it!!

nav. masterlist

|| 3:24AM Ryomen Sukuna wants to send you a message

You flinch as your phone buzzes beside you, interrupting your disassociated reading of ‘the fundamentals of journalism’. You opted to ignore the buzz, focusing back in on the page you’d been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes. Your eyes would finally reach the bottom of the page, only to flit back up to the top because you simply couldn’t grasp what you’d been doing wrong. Your research had come to a halt, the football team flat out refusing to be interviewed by you. You knew how you were, how invasive your questions could be, but these were boys who bragged about their conquests to anyone who would listen, embarrassment should not be in their vocabulary.

Another buzz sounded. Then another. And another. You sighed, dog-earring the page and picking your phone up. A request for an instagram dm, and four texts from satoru.

|| Toru🤍: y/n, baby. please kindly look at your instagram dms.

|| Toru🤍: i know you’re not sleeping, check them right now.

|| Toru🤍: sukuna’s trying to dm you can you just answer him pls??

|| Toru🤍: he’s punching me PLEASE read the dm before he damages the money maker too much

You groaned. Ryomen Sukuna. Quite possibly the biggest slut on campus. You’d heard all the stories from Satoru about how Sukuna was making it his mission to fuck every sorority girl from your university. Eugh. You were so thankful that you chose to opt out of the sorority life. But, you loved Satoru, and he loved his face being intact, so over to instagram it was.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Need a favour, princess.

You’d known Satoru since birth, practically being forced into an arranged friendship by your parents and you kinda happened to like his company. You met the rest of the football team when he inevitably joined a frat. Consisting of only the football team. You were friendly with most of them, probably Suguru most of all. The only one who never really warmed to you was Sukuna. You knew him well enough to know he accepted the extra meal preps you left for the rest of the boys whenever you cooked for Satoru, and that his room directly faced Satoru’s. But that was it.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: I’ll make it worth your while.

You groaned again, eyes rolling into the back of your head. This was the same man who grunted when you greeted him with a smile whenever you were at the frat house. The guy who told Satoru that he can’t always use his plus one invite to the parties on you, mostly because you never turn up.

|| You: you’re coming to me for a favour? you must be really outta options, dude.

It was a strange feeling. Being needed. You knew Satoru needed you. You were the only one who kept him sane when he’s balancing football and physics. But this was a different kind of need. This was practically a stranger needing your help. Huh.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Fuck you. I need a girlfriend. You wanna do it?

Confused didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling right now. A girlfriend? Sukuna? Nope. Never gonna happen. And you of all people? Definitely not. You had a feeling Satoru didn’t know, because if he did, Sukuna’s phone would be broken and maybe his nose too.

|| You: the fuck? no, go ask one of your sorority fuck buddies if you’re that desperate. i’m sure their frothing at the mouth for the opportunity.

You went to put your phone down, choosing to ignore the pink-haired quarterback, but he was already typing. Like he was waiting for an answer.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Real cute, princess. Obviously I don’t want a fuckin real one. Need a fake girlfriend so I can focus on football without thinking about pussy.

Confused again. The Ryomen Sukuna, self-proclaimed football god, needed help to be able to actually play? The situation was laughable actually. You furrowed your brows, the thought crossing your mind for just a second.

|| You: Pass.

You let out a sigh of relief when ten minutes passed and you were still left on read, choosing to turn your phone over, pressing your face into the pillow, and getting your final three hours of sleep you so desperately craved.

taglist: @kyo-kyo1 @kenmacantakemeaway @coldluminarykoala @sukubusss @clp-84 @ieathairs @toratsue @mocha-the-muse

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Happy Thanksgiving/November 28!

Ignoring the Thanksgiving "America Rules" whitewashing when we committed atrocities against the true Americans. I will take a moment to be thankful for what I have today. I am very thankful this year for all of the friends I've made and all of the stories I've gotten to share with y'all. Not to be too dramatic or get too real but this year hasn't been the easiest for me and having this little website and community sure has put salve on some of the sadness. Let's go forth and keep supporting each other and making a community that we can all be thankful for.

I invited some guys over for dinner. Who are you having for dessert?

Forever the most grateful for @ohheypedrito and our friendship.

Tagging some people invited to the party whose invitations never made it to them. Next time I won't have Dieter in charge of mail. (If I forgot you, I am sorry... the parade is distracting me.)

@magpiepills, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon, @devineconjuring, @beefrobeefcal

@sawymredfox, @bitchesuntitled, @goodwithcheese, @secretelephanttattoo, @jolapeno

@maggiemayhemnj, @yourcoolauntie, @yopossum, @ace-turned-confused, @jennaispunk

@artsy-girl-76, @justagalwhowrites, @sixhours, @timelordfreya, @hellfire-state-of-mind

@tinytinymenace, @perotovar, @mando-abs, @littlemisspascal, @luxurychristmaspudding

@guiltyasdave, @yxtkiwiyxt, @morallyinept, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @rulexofxnines

@grogusmum, @jessthebaker, @javierpena-inatacvest, @covetyou, @theetherealbloom

@quinnnfabrgay, @joelalorian, @almostfoxglove, @almostempty, @604to647

@thundermartini, @evolnoomym, @the-mandawhor1an, @mysterious-moonstruck-musings, @for-a-longlongtime

@baronessvonglitter, @80ssong, @lokischocolatefountain, @pedropeach, @tonysopranosrobe

@moonlitbirdie, @wannab-urs, @daddydindjarin, @sunshinehaze1, @sizzlingcloudmentality

@mountainsandmayhem, @murder-wife, @shchristine, @jksprincess10, @qveerthe0ry

@plasticpascal, @chippedowlmug, @reddedmiller, @pedgito, @undutchable11

@sp00kymulderr, @yorksgirl, @clawdee, @strang3lov3, @survivingandenduring

@lorettafudge, @burntheedges, @msjarvis, @la-vie-est-une-fleur29, @skbeaumont

@tightjeansjavi, @mrsmando, @penvisions, @scp116, @polaroidpascal

@harriedandharassed, @romanarose, @arcanefox207, @pedrospatch

[misteria247]

Fiddleford never in his life thought he'd ever get a chance to do something like this. Then again, there were a lot of things he didn't think he'd ever do, but somehow, he'd managed to experience them. All thanks to the woman standing next to him. The older man looked at her, the blonde who had changed his life. She was holding onto his arm, her flowing white dress clinging to her. A bouquet of flowers was in her grasp, and her hair was pinned up behind her veil. She looked beautiful, which made sense, giving it's her big day.

The day when she was officially becoming Mrs. Pines.

Fiddleford felt his chest get a bit tight with emotion. It felt like just yesterday he'd met her, the awkward, slightly mean 12 near 13 year old. When she'd been quiet and suspicious of the world and people around her. A girl who had decided to accompany him on one of his trips to the junkyard and, as a result, changed his life forever. At that moment, as he stared at the woman Pacifica Northwest-Mcgucket was, he recalled all the firsts he had with her.

He recalled the first time when she called him dad. A slip of the tongue, in a moment of peace and domestic calm. They'd been working on a project together, with Fidds focused on a piece of delicate weld work.

"Hey Paz, can you pass me that there tool?"

Fidds gestured towards said tool. Paz got up, making her way to it, grabbing it and bringing it back to him.

"Here you go dad."

She said, not thinking about it. Fiddleford about dropped the tool she just gave him, and Pacifica froze, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"I....I mean-"

She scrambled, trying to save face. However, it wasn't necessary when she caught sight of the fond grin.

"Thank you hon. I appreciate it."

He said smoothly, not calling attention to it. Knowing how Pacifica could be. It was that decision that opened up the gates. Before he realized it, she was calling him dad all the time. The word sounding like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was meant to be. It wouldn't be until months later, when he was working on making her a pair of new welding gloves that the weight of the word finally hit him. That despite everything he'd done in his life and out of everyone in the world, Pacifica had chosen to call him dad. The tears that were shed that night were of ones of gratitude and happiness unlike anything he'd experienced in a very long time.

'She really did brighten up my world, this little lady.'

He thought fondly and affectionately as he recalled another first he'd had with her. The first time she'd come to him, crying and distraught and seeking him out. An argument, harsh and cruel, had happened between her and her biological father. Upsetting her so badly that she'd run away from her house. Heading straight to the manor where she knocked on his door. Startling him awake. When he'd opened the door, the sight of Pacifica being so broken and covered in tears had just about shattered his heart right there and then. He brought her inside, concerned and agitated to figure out a way to fix this. To bring back the confident, intelligent, sassy teen he was used to. He was broken out of his rushing thoughts by two small arms wrapping around him.

"Fidds...am.....am I a disgrace....?"

Pacifica asked, sounding so small and broken. The world seemed to stop as he processed her question, and with it, a burning fire of red hot rage piercing his chest. How dare that man make this girl feel like that? How dare he tear this bright, sharp, witty girl down because he couldn't control her? How dare he even have the nerve to call himself her father when all he did was hurt and crush her?

"Pacifica Northwest, you are not a disgrace. You wanna know what you are?"

The hick asked, not even waiting for her to respond before he continued. Fired up something fierce.

"You are talented. You are bright and smart and funny. You are kind and loving, and you bring so many people so much joy. You are loved, and you are wonderful just the way you are. And I couldn't be prouder to have you as a daughter."

Pacifica broke down at that, clinging to Fiddleford like a drowning person would with a life vest. And the inventor clung back just as tightly. Holding her together and protecting her from the world as she broke down. Finally letting out all the hurt and misery she'd kept inside for so long. When she was done, she'd spent the night sleeping in Fiddleford's bed while he took the small sofa. Watching her sleep, he vowed to protect this girl with everything he had. Because she was his now.

The older man returned to the present moment when he felt Pacifica grab his arm a bit.

"You alright honeybee?"

He asked her, his voice soft. He watched as she bit her bottom lip, nervous.

"What....what if Dipper gets tired of me dad?"

Paz asked, her voice shaking slightly. Fidds eyes went wide, understanding shining in them.

"Paz sweetheart, that boy is head over heels for you. If he was tired of you, we wouldn't be here right now. Remember when you first started dating? You thought the same thing back then."

The mechanic said as his daughter's flashed with recognition. For Fiddleford, it was still fresh in his mind that day. Another first, he noted that he once again shared with her. She'd been 16 at the time, and she and Dipper had finally became official. It'd been a long time coming if you asked anyone who knew the couple. Fidds had spotted it way back when they were young, when he would go to help out Stanford and Stanley with something, and Pacifica would tag along. It was so obvious that Dipper and Pacifica were smitten despite how young they were. So it was no big shocker to him when she'd come to him one day saying she liked the Pines boy. However, what did surprise him was when Pacifica came over one day, looking nervous and uneasy, and before he even greeted her had been met with.

"Dad, do.....do you think that Dipper really likes me? I know we're dating now, but what.....what if it's because of me being a Northwest? What....what if he doesn't actually like me?"

Fiddleford reeled, stunned. Did she not see the way he looked at her? Did she not notice the way Dipper always wanted to be by her side? Did she not have a clue that Dipper was so smitten with her that everyone and their grandmother could tell? Collecting his thoughts, he gave her a stern but fatherly look. Gently rubbing her upper arm to comfort her.

"Pacifica Northwest-Mcgucket. That boy is head over heels in love with you. You know, as well as I do, that Dipper Pines isn't the type of man to go after something unless he's absolutely sure about it. And I can promise you sugar bear, you ain't got nothing to worry about. Heck, I'd bet on my old banjo that it wouldn't be much of a stretch if one day he might marry you, I reckon."

The genius hick said serious and confident. Pacifica went red, embarrassed, but the sparkle was back in her gaze, and her confidence was no longer waning. And that was all that mattered to him.

"Oh good lord, I remember that conversation. You always look so smug still to this day being proven that you're right...."

Pacifica also said, recalling that day. The father, daughter duo, let out a few chuckles, feeling warm at the memory. Fidds gave his daughter's hand a squeeze, gaze soft and full of fatherly love and pride.

"And I still am right sugar cube. I rarely ever wrong."

Fiddleford watched as her own gaze softened, love and fondness shining bright. The once quiet insecurities now silenced by the reassurance of her father. The two were broken out of their moment by the sound of the tune of 'Here comes the bride'. He felt her shimmy a bit, her arm intertwined with his as she took a deep breath to prepare. Looking at her father once again, she gave him a small look.

"Well, how do I look dad?"

She asked.

"You look stunning hon. You ready?"

He asked smiling a bit wider.

"Yeah, I'm ready......promise you won't let go till we're up there dad?"

Paz asked. And in that moment she was once again 12, and he a younger old man, intertwined by the very stars.

"Promise darlin'."

With that sentence Pacifica Northwest-Mcgucket and her father Fiddleford Mcgucket finally took their first steps towards her future. Where the love of her life stood at the end waiting for her.

Fiddleford never expected to experience these moments. If you asked him way back when he was younger if he believed he'd ever experience fatherhood. He would have told you no. But if asked now....he'd smile the most bright smile, eyes twinkling with a light that wasn't there before and tell you yes. And he couldn't wait to experience even more firsts in this perfect future with the one girl who made it all worth while.

[catholicat]

I love when people show me music that i never heard before

[divinit3a]

* no poms were harmed in the creation of this silly (probably)

Ahem, ahem. I shall be very coherent, logical, &---

FGHDSGHFHDGSF ?!?!?! ;-; ?!?!?!?!? SNIFFLES??? HJFGSDGHFHGDSF??? EHHERGSHGF??????

FIRST OFF!!!

I LOVE UR DESIGN FOR SUN!!! (as a whole--the way u draw him & moon both is always stunning frfr ;-;<3) BEAUTIFUL! PRETTY! GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL (gender neutral<3)

pinchable, sweet face. can bite off the rays & eat them like candy corn One By One. The soft, subtle gradients of color everywhere adds so much vibrancy!! Visual eye-candy!! The dark BG paired with the soft clouds and pop-up styled panels is lovely!! The little heart & star emoticons are so silly & endearing!!

&-- THE LIL DESIGN FOR THE "SURVIVOR" READER NOOO!!! SO CUTE!!! SNIFFLES!!! I adore how u placed the purple, green, & pink--I would buy that hat (contrary to the entirety of my blog aes, I love purple a lot fhgsdhgf) The crystalline heart is ADORABLE & SO STYLISH & their lil star sticker emoting more dramatically for them is so SILLAY & FUN!!!

SECONDLY!!!

(collapses)

Thank you for your kind words about the fic! and about my writing?!? ;-; It is an HONOR!!! To perpetuate the 'stay up late reading' habits, hehehe ^-^ (<- Guy who won't stop reading til I hit the last chapter or the end, thats why it takes me forever to get to fics--I KNOW MY WEAK POINTS!! THE HYPERFIXATION!!!!)

Its a special kind of joy to hear that folks enjoy what I cook up, like, fhsdfhg HWUH??? ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) FR?? On goodness, You Read That? Those Words? From Me???

So genuinely, thanks for reading!! Thanks for the very sweet & kind shout-out!! And!! Im sosososo grateful!! Like wow!! What!! Huh!!!! Endless joy & happiness!!💚💚💚

me @ ur art ^^^^ mmm so tastyyyy

Ok, now clock in, hehe, see you later!! ^-^ /silly

THIS IS A FANFIC APPRECIATION POST‼️

THIS SCENE IS FROM @divinitea-cafe / @divinit3a ‘s fanfiction:

“Just Keep Playing Along” on the Archive on our Own!

♡ ITS SUCH A GOOD STORY PLEASE GO READ IT!!!

♡ THE WRITING AND PROISE, THE INTENSITY OF THE ACTION SCENES MADE ME KEEP READING EVEN WHEN I WAS SUPPOSED TO SLEEP!!!! XD

♡ ALSO SUN N MOON IN THIS FIC ARE EQUALLY FERAL!!! THEY ARE SUCH GOOBERS!!!

✦ KEEP IN MIND THERE IS GORE, SO READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! ^q^

[cy-lindric]

ok ok ok I get it now I get why everyone was telling me to watch this oh my GOD

[egberts]

ALSO if prisoners could get educated then prisons could run themselves more reliably and function like communities which is conducive to a growing/healing/learning/absolving mindset

[dipplinduo]

Announcement: A Wild DIPPLINSHIPPING HYPE WEEK appeared!

As you may know, the Indigo Disk DLC released on December 14th, 2023. In anticipation of the upcoming 1 year anniversary, we're banding together to celebrate the wonderful conclusion of the DLC storyline and all of the swoony & angsty moments of dipplinshipping as a whole!

This event and its prompts are based entirely on community ideas and voting. According to final responses, most dipplinshipping community members prefer to celebrate from Saturday, December 14th, 2024 (Indigo Disk Anniversary Date) to Friday, December 20th, 2024.

Event Guidelines:

Any art form is welcome. Whether you want to draw, paint, write, create music, or so on - we love and encourage it!

Participation is entirely up to the creator. While the official start and end dates of the celebration week are outlined, you are more than welcome to release submissions at your own pace and liking. If you only want to do 1 or 2 prompts, no worries! If you want to do all 7, have at it! Just make sure you're having fun. :)

Please mark your content accordingly and remain mindful of community safety and comfort. I plan to promote all content that is created for this event, but will not be promoting inappropriate themes (e.g., NSFW, violent/graphic content, inappropriate treatment of minors or pokemon, or any other related themes that may be questionable or discomforting). Off theme submissions will also not be promoted (e.g., OC shipping).

How to Submit:

Use the Tumblr hashtags: #dipplinshipping, #dipplinshippinghypeweek2024.

Submission Link for AO3 Collection.

Have fun!!! I can't wait to celebrate with you. <3

Special shoutouts to @mimilovesfurret for suggesting this event idea, and to @kekstala, @mandachuart, and @tuttiflutie for co-creating the lovely infographic above on short notice!

With love,

dipplinduo

[use-your-telescope]

LMAO “why i was scowling at the laptop in my bedroom” girl my laptop had the AUDACITY to DIE ON ME literally minutes away from being ready to post and it took FOREVER to charge up enough that I could finally post 😤😤😤 (I don’t fuck with mobile posting chapters, despite writing most of this fic from my phone lol)

I love the idea of Loki and Theo bickering like an old married couple and I feel like that definitely happens in this chapter. I also liked getting to write some snarky Theo after a couple chapters of sad girl hours, although I have to admit as someone who grew up with tornadoes I am definitely someone who would chase a storm that would send most people into hiding 🙈

Side note, your Chris reactions are hilarious. If he was a real person, I could literally picture you yelling at him like this:

RE: “Loki better get his fine ass back up again,”—

Look, sometimes characters get hurt so they are forced to accept the kindness and care of others. And if it’s Loki getting hurt and Theo being the one to show him that kindness and care? Well… 😏😏😏

(Is there about to be a lot more burning from the slow burn? Admittedly, yes, lol).

I appreciate you and adore you immensely, Saz 🥰🥰 thank you for being you!! And thank you for your constant support of my brainrot and these dweebs 😂💚

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 20: Who Are Your Friends, Who Are Your Foes?

Summary: The newest addition of shadowy threats, it turns out, are not a one-off occurrence…  

Contents: Fight! Fight! Fight! Canon-typical combat/violence. injuries/Blood/battle whump.

Word Count: 4,901

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

Who Are Your Friends? Who Are Your Foes?

Song: Past Life - Lydia

Well, barely made it downtown It's alright, it's alright I bet I met you in a past life But it's your word against mine While you listen to it all at night And while you feel your lungs stretching wide

Sooner or later, Theo knew it was bound to happen: she’d be pulled from the Emergency Department to fight.

She jokingly blamed it on one of the residents saying the ‘Q’ word - that it was a quiet night. The number one rule of working in Emergency Medicine was never point out if it was slow, because then you’d end up absolutely slammed…

… Not even twenty minutes later, an announcement overhead informed the department that all hands were on deck for a massive casualty event in Times Square.

Times Square.

Theo had been in the hangar, working with Julie to assign teams to incoming patients when a blur of red and gold zipped through the hangar, slowing down before dramatically flipping around to land in front of Theo. 

“Suit up, Rapunzel —“ The head of the iron man suit folded back; Tony’s brows furrowed and jaw set itself in a sharp line as he spoke.  “—we need all the help we can get.” 

The lack of quips set Theo on edge about what they were up against. As it was, Theo had barely been cleared to fight after overextending herself; the prospect of going into something so serious right away only made her more concerned. But there wasn’t a choice, because Tony wouldn’t be standing in front of her if there was. Ready or not, Theo had to fight. 

“Go,” Julie said, nodding in agreement with Tony. “If you don’t, we’ll only have even more people to treat. We can handle it here.”

Theo let out a tense breath and gave a quick nod to Julie. “Thanks, Jules. I’ll jump back on once we get back.”

Returning her attention to Tony, Theo raised her left arm and snapped her fingers; at the sound, her scrubs vanished, replaced by the suit of armor carefully crafted by Tony and Shuri. “Ready?”

Tony nodded, his suit reassembling itself to cover his head. “Hold on—“

Theo barely had the chance before Tony grabbed her and flew into the air, his blasters so close that Theo’s feet felt a strange rush of heat as they flew through the city.

Orange flickers of light reflected on the windows of skyscrapers, growing brighter and more intense as they drew near. Interspersed between booming explosions, shrieks of horror and pain echoed through the streets. 

“Hope you’re ready,” Tony said, rounding the corner to reveal the full scale of what they were up against.

Amidst a grid-lock of abandoned cars, explosions flashed throughout, leaving behind flames which roiled up into the night sky with relentless pace. The technicolor lights from the video billboards of the square cast an eerie glow onto the scene, looking like something out of some post-apocalyptic video game Yelena would play…

… or Astonia, on the night of the Massacre.

Theo shook her head, trying to forget the resemblance. She needed to focus, not get caught up in the past.

“Cap, what’s the latest?” Tony called out. He dropped Theo near the edge of the fight, then flew ahead into the fray.

“It’s a mix of shadow beasts, shadow handlers, and humans–” Steve replied between heavy breaths. “Haven’t found a source–”

Shadow handlers, also known as the people who made their debut at their Met Gala. Little progress had been made in regards to identifying who they were, where they came from, or their motive, so for the moment, they were referred to as “handlers.” Theo had some suspicions she kept to herself, however.

“—You bring Theo?” Sam flew overhead, distracting some of the fighters in the street from the newest arrivals.

“Reporting for duty,” Theo replied, conjuring her shadow blade while she assessed the scene to determine her first move. “What’s the plan?”

“Keep the fight contained!” Clint answered through the comms, “We’ve cleared the area, but we have to make sure the fight doesn’t spread.”

Theo barely ventured into the chaos before she came face to face with her first adversary. They clumsily swung at her with a metal pole, but Theo easily ducked beneath and knocked them to the ground, thrusting her blade straight through their chest without a second thought.

“Do they have anyone in the buildings?” Wanda asked, a crimson glow emanating from her hands as she manipulated the burnt-through shells of vehicles to create a makeshift barricade around the fighting.

“Negative.” Vision flew past Theo’s head, close enough for her hair to get swept up in the breeze; moments later, a motorcycle with someone on it went after him. Theo conjured a shimmering orb and hurled it at the motorcycle, setting the rider on fire.

“Alright, give me two seconds to make a barricade!” Theo held up a hand, a swirl of glistening black and white expanding out to create a translucent dome around the fight.

The moment the dome was in place, Theo spun around and sliced through a handler who tried to ambush her from behind, dropping him to the ground in one swift motion.

“That’s why we needed her.” Nearby, Natasha snatched the weapon from an enemy operative, using it to take him down.

“Don’t you dare overextend yourself,” Theo could literally hear Loki scowling through the comms at her. 

“I’ll be fine,” Theo scoffed, charging headfirst into the chaos. “Just– everyone try not to get too badly hurt, okay?

“That’s the plan!” Rhodes replied, zipping past as bullets sprayed around him.

Conjuring a second orb in her free hand, Theo darted between vehicles in search of her next target. She ran over the top of a truck and flipped over a group of shadow beasts who had cornered Peter, sending a series of small missiles out of the black and white orb before they could seriously injure him.

Peter gawked as the entire group froze, then dropped to the ground in a heap. He looked up to find Theo behind them and cheered. “Oh – hey Theo! Good to see you!”

Already bounding ahead to find her next target, Theo still chuckled and shook her head. She called back over her shoulder, “You too, kid, but stay focused - we’ll talk later!” 

While Theo took down a pair of shadow beasts, she glanced up and noticed that a crowd of onlookers gathered around the outside edges of the dome, cell phones drawn and presumably recording the showdown, broadcasting the horror for all the world to see. If Theo hadn’t had her hands full trying to stem the seemingly endless flow attackers, she’d have considered telling them to get away; after all, if her barricade fell, they’d be royally fucked.

Then again, if they were willing to endanger themselves for viral content, maybe they deserved the consequences. 

As someone hurled an explosive towards Theo, she leapt over an abandoned taxi to take cover, barely manning to crouch down before a shockwave blew out the vehicle’s glass, shards  raining down around her. 

At that same moment, Loki dove out of the way of a different explosion, somersaulting through the momentum and landing in a similar, crouched position. He conjured a pair of short swords, then dipped his chin at Theo in a sort of greeting. “How are you feeling?” 

“I feel great,” she smirked at him, readying her blade for whoever attacked her next. “Downright peachy, even.”

Two handlers, each with a pair of shadow beasts, careened into sight from opposite sides, targeting the pair of sorcerers. 

“Perhaps I should not have told the others you weren’t yet in fighting shape.” Loki wryly commented, slicing through the shadow beast in front of him with a flourish.

“I was cleared to fight— you know that,” Theo rolled her eyes, firing off a series of cosmic energy bolts at the pair of shadow beasts in front of her. “You don’t get to decide when I’m benched.”

Loki scoffed. “I simply assumed you would prefer to remain in the infirmary, given the choice.” He cast an illusion to distract the remaining shadow beasts and handlers, then teleported behind a handler and slit their throat with his dagger.

Likewise, Theo capitalized on the illusion and dissolved into shadow, transporting herself to right in front of the remaining handler. She reappeared only inches from the remaining handler, watching the sheer terror overcome them as she reached one hand out to rest on their chest, administering the touch of death. The handler dropped to the ground with a muffled thump. “I’d much rather make the choice for myself, thanks.”

“Your decisions result in harm to yourself,” Loki retorted with a scowl. He conjured a dagger and hurled it at an enemy, hitting them right between the eyes and killing them in the spot. 

A surge of irritation coursed through Theo. “My decisions save lives,” she gritted out in between slashes of her blade at another beast trying to attack her, “Which, may I remind you, is my fucking job.”

Though fully entrenched in a duel of his own, Loki still glared at Theo. “Not at the expense of your own.”

The retort caught Theo off guard, and she faltered; Loki, however, continued on as if everything was normal. He fought as if he were dancing, each swing and each step fluid and agile. With the way the smoke moved around him and the glow of the city lights reflected off him, he looked every bit the mighty god he was. 

What did he think—  that she couldn’t defend herself? That she was just a stupid, fragile little Midgardian, not fit for the title of Avenger? 

Reeling from the implications, Theo ran off, abandoning Loki in the process. His assistance wasn’t necessary, and if he believed that Theo needed his protection, then there was no way he’d have trouble defending himself. If anything, Theo needed to prove that she was, in fact, worthy of her place on the team, which meant diving into another fight.

Who are you trying to be It's alright, it's alright Cause it's in the stories and stay with me's And in between the sheets So while you're here and while it's right now Can you feel them all coming out?

Amidst the smoke and fire, Theo’s eyes scanned the area as she planned her next move; however, something at the edge of the dome caught her attention.

The crowd had multiplied exponentially, shoving cell phone cameras and professional cameras up against the barrier to try and capture a slice of the action. That wasn’t all, though — amongst the spectators, Theo spotted a familiar figure, with blonde hair and a navy suit that fit so perfectly it had to have been sewn onto him: Chris.

Theo hadn’t seen him since he unceremoniously dumped her over voicemail, and frankly had no interest in seeing him; however, that wasn’t the worst part. 

Next to him was a woman Theo vaguely recognized, only because she was starring opposite of Chris in the film he was shooting when he and Theo broke up. In the one or two times Theo met her, she seemed nice enough, but something about the way Chris acted when she was around seemed… odd. At the time, Theo just assumed it had to do with being co-stars. But in that moment, Theo saw Chris’s arm wrapped protectively around the brunette, and how the woman adoringly gazed up at him. She watched from a distance, frozen in place, as the brunette cupped Chris’s chin, turning his attention towards her and kissing him, right there in front of everyone.

Amplified by the adrenaline of combat and Loki’s condescension, the sight set off a surge of searing fury that exploded inside Theo, lighting her veins on fire with a level of intensity that threatened to consume her, so much that for a moment, she considered dissolving the barrier just so the spectators might learn their lesson… if Chris happened to suffer as a result, well… He was the one who didn’t evacuate from a battlefield. 

Yet, she didn’t dissolve the barrier. Had she done so, she’d not only be responsible for those deaths, but she’d have to pretend that she wasn’t powerful enough to keep the barrier up, which would only confirm Loki’s belief that she was a weak little Midgardian. 

Obscured by the smoke, no one from the crowd seemed to notice Theo as she stood there, barely ignoring the devil on her shoulder, which was likely for the best.

Unfortunately, the attackers had noticed, and took advantage of the lapse in focus; Theo turned around just in time to get punched in the face. 

Reeling backwards, Theo spit out a mouthful of blood before charging ahead, taking a swing of her own with her fist; pain shot through her hand as she connected with their jaw, their head snapping to the side from the force..

Sure, she could have killed this guy with a spell or a shadow blade, but Theo needed to channel her anger into something productive. 

Dodging the second punch thrown her way, Theo ducked down and swept her feet around, dropping her opponent flat on his back. On the way down, he grabbed hold of her leg and yanked her off balance in an attempt to take control of the fight.

Instead, Theo leveraged the momentum of her fall and slammed her elbow into his groin, incapacitating him long enough for her to regain her footing and land another painful, but solid punch to the head, knocking him out.

Once she got back on her feet, Theo shook herself out and re-conjured her shadow blade before charging towards another group of fighters. Moving with deadly precision, she sliced into half the group in rapid succession, black and white flames erupting from her blade and spreading to other fighters nearby. 

The screams of pain from their flesh burning could barely be heard over the pounding of her heart in her ears and her own breathing; even if she could have heard them, she was too angry to care. 

She spun around, launching constellations of stars at other enemies to incapacitate them. Teleporting behind another handler, Theo wasted no time dropping them with a clean slash to the throat, using the vehicles around them to obscure her from public view. 

For a moment, Theo almost felt like she was back in Aneterra, taking out one of the Oblivinite storehouses. Only instead of abandoned warehouses in the bowels of a ruined city, she was on full display in the middle of Times Square, and she wasn’t torching everything in sight at the same time.

Although at that moment, she wouldn’t have minded torching everything in sight.

Gunshots rang out in quick succession, reminding Theo to keep moving, Hiding behind another burnt-up car, Theo glanced around in an attempt to figure out her next move. Behind an overturned delivery van, she spotted Yelena, grabbing her arm as though she was injured.

Theo darted across the gap, diving behind the vehicle where Yelena took shelter just as another barrage of gun shots filled the air.

“What happened?” Theo demanded, already reaching for Yelena’s upper arm.

“Nothing, it’s fine.” Yelena gave a sharp head shake and grimaced. “Go fight.”

“I have two functioning eyes and can tell you’re full of shit.” Theo challenged, raising a brow at the younger widow. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it and you can get back out there.”

“I got hit by a shot,” Yelena shook her head a second time. “Really, no biggie.” 

“Here —” Theo gestured for Yelena to remove her hand from her arm. “—Let me see.”

With a begrudging sigh, Yelena reluctantly moved her hand away from the injury.

When it immediately started to bleed, Theo pressed her hand up to the wound. She focused her energy, white runes making her way beneath Theo’s palm as the magic stitched Yelena’s skin back together.

“What happened to you?” Yelena peered at Theo’s face as she worked, the light of the billboards and flames illuminating the area around them.

“I got distracted and punched in the face. It’s not a big deal,” Theo shrugged, lifting her gaze from the wound to scan the area for additional threats. 

“Are you going to heal yourself?” Yelena questioned, eyes darting between Theo’s face and her glowing white hand.

“Can’t - it’s like a surgeon can’t operate on themselves. It looks worse than it feels though,” Theo replied absentmindedly, watching as the last bits of Yelena’s skin closed up. “Alright, you’re set. Now go fuck some people up.”

“Thanks!” Yelena took off, almost gleeful as she launched herself back into the fight.

If only Theo enjoyed the absolute insanity of combat like Yelena did… Then again, that was probably what made Yelena such a great assassin. She downright thrived in environments like that.

Rolling her shoulders a couple times, Theo embraced the opportunity provided by her relatively shielded location to catch a breath and regain her focus; once she felt ready, she got back on her feet and followed Yelena’s lead.

I bet I met you in a past life And do you travel alone What're you living like? Go on, go on, well What're you thinking about  On those late nights? And when you listen in close,  What's it sound like?

After what felt like a lifetime of fighting with everything she had in her, Theo could have sworn they’d finally started to make progress when a message came through the comms.

“I need help—” Bucky choked out, his voice crackling through the intercom, “—Loki’s down!”

Somehow, all it took was two simple words for Theo’s anger to vanish, while something deeply unsettling replaced it, twisting frantically in her gut.

“I’m fine!” Loki groaned, though the way his words slightly slurred didn’t help his case.

“Bullshit,” Bucky retorted, “You can’t even walk!”

Theo searched around frantically, the smoke from cars on fire obscuring more and more of her vision. “Where are you?”

“I can heal mysel—” Loki weakly tried to butt in, but Bucky was louder. “—By the MTV screen!”

Without a second thought, Theo teleported herself over to the area, then sprinted towards the sound of two men bickering. She rounded the corner of a burned-out vehicle husk, her feet stuttering as she came to a sudden halt.

Loki sat on the ground, clutching his side as he leaned against the dingy steel frame of what once had been a car. Sitting might have been a generous term; if anything, it looked more like he had been propped up against the car by Bucky, who had both hands pressed against Loki’s thigh in an attempt to stop some of the bleeding. Loki looked out at the world from beneath heavy eyelids, his head slightly listing from side to side as he looked at Bucky.  All the color had drained from his skin, appearing almost translucent beneath the smoky grime all over his body. Despite gritting his teeth, he breathed as though he’d run a marathon - short, quick bursts of breath that were shallow at best. Around him, discolored pavement reflected back the lights of the billboards; with a shudder, Theo realized it was likely his blood that stained the ground. 

Theo dropped to her knees, scouring Loki’s body for other signs of injury. A large gash crossed over Loki’s temple and across his forehead, in addition to whatever injury Loki covered with his hands and the wound Bucky applied pressure to. While she looked him over, she pressed a finger to his wrist; finding only a faint, yet frenetic pulse, Theo cursed under her breath, then reached up to feel for his pulse in the crook of his neck. When the result proved to be similar, she began to pry Loki’s hand from his side so she could see the wound.

“I do not require your assistance,” Loki hissed, glaring at her as she worked. His normally sharp, sea-glass green eyes struggled to focus, taking on a sort of glassiness. “I will be fine.”

“There’s no way you’re healing this on your own,” Theo replied, swatting away Loki’s hands when he tried to put them back over the wound. Just a quick glance was enough to determine that the side wound likely contributed to most of the blood around them, so Theo took over placing pressure on the injury. “—especially not in this state.”

“You’ve no idea of my capabilities,” Loki attempted a protest, but it came out as more of a mumble.

Next to Theo, Bucky rolled his eyes. Clearly she wasn’t the only one who didn’t buy Loki’s argument whatsoever.

“Generally speaking, no I don’t, but right now I have a pretty damn good idea what you can and can’t do.” Theo muttered, ignoring Loki as she pressed a bit harder on the side wound. At least by leaning in on the snark, it was easier to hide the rapidly growing worry in her chest. “Seriously, Casper has a better complexion than you do. How did this happen?” 

“One of those shadow bastards,” Loki huffed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

The movement shifted his weight off balance; he listed towards the right, torso sliding over until he started to tip—

Theo shot her other hand out, catching Loki’s shoulder before he hit the ground. 

At the sudden change of position, Loki’s eyes flew open with surprise. Strangely, he didn’t protest as Theo eased him down to the ground, then nudged him to draw his uninjured leg up and bend his knee.

“A claw? A bite? I need more than that,” Theo said, before pressing on her comm to activate it. “I need medics for an evac by the MTV sign as soon as possible - note that the area is not yet secured.”

“Neither,” Loki weakly replied.”They looked to be one of the beings from the gala, but their attire differed from the others. Struck me with two blades.”

Shit.

Most of the handlers Theo had encountered throughout the fight hadn’t been anywhere near the level of challenge that the very first handler had been. What if there was some form of hierarchy, and Loki happened to come into contact with one of the more powerful fighters— would they be focused on something else? Or, like the handler from the Met Gala, use the opportunity to ambush Theo?

Theo lifted her head, frantically searching for any sign that the person who did this to Loki was in their proximity.

“Medic is in transit, eta 3 minutes.” A voice came through the comms, but the update offered barely any relief. With wounds like Loki’s, time was of the essence - it wasn’t just about stopping the bleeding, but about replenishing the blood that had already been lost. He needed surgery to properly close the wounds and assess for possible organ damage, particularly in the case of the side wound. 

Fuck it— Theo needed to heal him, even if she wasn’t sure she had enough energy to do so. Loki could be salty about it later.

Theo focused her attention, delicate white runes revealing themselves on her skin as a white glow emanated from beneath her hands. She closed her eyes, willing her magic into Loki’s wound. The injury cut deep enough that if he had been a random human, he would have been long-dead. She set about stemming the blood loss through connecting the major veins that had been severed, her head throbbing more and more from every connection she made.

“Stop–” Loki commanded with a surprising ferocity, tugging one of Theo’s hands away from his injury.

It wasn’t until the flow of her magic had been interrupted that Theo noticed a wet, sticky warmth beneath her nose and tasted iron in her mouth. “Damn,” Theo muttered, quickly wiping her nosebleed on her sleeve before she brought her hand back and reapplied pressure to his side

“Do not dare incapacitate yourself for me.” Loki glared at Theo, though in his weakened state it wasn’t exactly threatening.

“Loki, my job is to make sure people don’t die, and right now, you’re dying,” Theo countered, “You’re literally going into shock from blood loss - you’re so pale you’re translucent, your eyes are glassy, you’re struggling to stay upright, you’re cold and clammy, you’re hyperventilating— between giving myself a migraine and having you bleed out in the middle of Times Square, I don’t even need to think about what my decision is going to be, and you’re in no shape to stop me.”

Before Loki could muster up a response, pounding footsteps and the squeaking wheels of a stretched echoed out amidst the fighting. Theo turned her attention towards the sound to find a team of medics, accompanied by Natasha, approaching the group. 

“Thank fucking god,” Theo whispered, more to herself than anything. She gathered herself as best she could while the medics closed the final gap; as soon as they arrived, Theo skipped any formal greeting so that they could complete the handoff report and get Loki out of there as soon as possible. 

Yet, right before Theo finished explaining what she managed to heal with magic to the medics, the commotion of a new fight breaking out nearby added to the chaos, drawing Loki’s limited attention away from the group hovering around him.

“--Managed to close–”

“--There–” Loki interrupted, trying to sit up and point toward the fighting, only for a medic to place one hand on his chest and stop him.  “—That’s the one–”

Theo whipped around to see for herself.

Her blood, once boiling with fury, turned to ice…

… Fighting Bucky was someone clad in attire similar to the person Theo killed at the Met Gala; however, the cloak seemed a bit shorter, the octarine eyes from before were absent, and onyx hair fell in front of the person’s face as they fought. The person moved with a hauntingly familiar sort of grace that Theo hadn’t seen in a long time, countering Bucky’s attacks with nimble, agile steps and maneuvers that made one of the world’s most deadly assassins look like a lumbering fool in comparison.

No, it wasn’t–

“Take over, I’m going after them.” Theo commanded. She didn’t look back or wait for a reaction before she launched herself in the direction of the fight. Her heart pounded in her ears once more as she charged forward, inserting herself into the action by blocking a slash aimed at Bucky with her own shadow blade. 

A glint of amethyst flashed beneath the hood of the cloak as the person froze; Theo took advantage of the pause and twisted her wrist around, knocking her opponent’s blade to the ground. 

“Who are you?” Theo demanded, shifting into an offensive stance as she readied herself to attack. 

The handler mirrored Theo’s movement, though without the confidence or recklessness of the being that Theo previously fought. For a moment, the lights from flashing billboards and fires left in the wake of fighting illuminated the bottom half of the person’s face, and Theo’s pulse quickened.

Their mouth hung slightly agape, lips painted a deep crimson that contrasted ivory skin; whoever it was, they seemed surprised by Theo’s appearance, which only raised more questions. 

“No,” They whispered, their voice cracking at the end. Chest heaving, they took one halting step back, then another–

— and broke into a sprint in the opposite direction.

Theo gave chase, a bloodhound after a fox in the night. Her target darted between other fighters, using magic to shove burning car frames and other obstacles in Theo’s way, but Theo used her own magic to clear the path once more. 

The other person came to a sudden halt in the middle of the square. Burning cars and neon lights lit the area behind them, casting them as a silhouette amidst an apocalyptic scene. They turned back, facing Theo as she began to close the distance. Theo picked up her pace, locked onto her target–

—but in a flash of swirling runes, the other person vanished into the night, and with them, the remaining adversaries disappeared.

Theo slowed down to a jog, stopping only when she arrived at the space abandoned by the handler. She bent forward, resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath and looked around, even though her gut told her it was pointless – whoever it was, they were gone.

“Fuck!” Theo snarled at no one and threw her blade on the ground. She covered her face with both hands and scrubbed her skin, trying to contain her frustration before it raised too many eyebrows. 

She should have been happy that the fight was over. No more casualties, no more injuries, they could clean up and repair the damage… but she wasn’t. If anything, it only set her off even more.

Because in their wake, all the shadow handler left were more questions and a sinking pit of dread where Theo’s heart would normally be.

With two cracks in my skull I can see the moon laying real low So when you lay in bed Do you smile about who you're laying with? Are you weak in your knees? I don't give a shit, you're coming out with me You're better than you've ever known Darling, who are your friends? Who are your foes?

—————

Author’s Note: *walks in two months late with Starbucks and  a chapter update* hi everyone — it has been a HOT minute! I’m still here and still writing this story… the tl;dr version is I had a very different plan for this chapter but just couldn’t get it right, so I took a step back to figure out why and I realized that a few things needed to happen in a different order, which required a moderate amount of work on the back end… however! I am much happier with the result and hopefully y’all will enjoy it as well. 

Originally, I hoped to post this yesterday for the one and only @sarahscribbles birthday, but of course my brain wouldn’t cooperate… but we made it (eventually)!  Go wish Sarah a happy belated birthday, and check out her fics if you haven’t already - she’s a wonderful Loki writer who deserves lots of love and celebration! 

Next chapter will come much sooner, I promise - I have most of it already written! Not committing to a date (yet), but I imagine in the next week or two it should be posted. 

As always, I love to hear your thoughts and reactions! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated. 

[taldigi]

crisis aside I think that "kids can handle dark stories if they have happy endings" is just going to apply to me forever.

I think games are awesome for having multiple endings, especially if one of them is happy- or at least hopeful. Heck- even better if some are bad.. because that makes the happy ending better? Worth working for?

as I get older I find myself drawn less to dark and hopeless media. I still appreciate that kinda stuff when it's the middle of the story- a little bit of salt to bring out the flavors of a dish and all- but when the story ends and "they never spoke again and they grew apart" or "everyone died anyway because they never had a chance and the world is cruel and cruelty is eternal." or "they put aside their passions forever because the waking world does not take kindly to love and the path of least resistance is the correct one"

Maybe if the characters I love can face darkness and still come out the other side better people facing a new sunrise with the people they love, then maybe there's hope for me too.

im not really going anywhere with this. Im just talking to myself.

[kinokoshoujoart]

oops all rock (springtime edition)

i’ll be able to draw digitally again soon! ;w; in the meantime i’ve been scribbling a lot on paper…

could not wait for Soon, so i resorted to coloring it using the markup tool in default iphone photos app (don’t do that ever again)

[adustoflove]

I always think well if I dated a man, I wouldn't feel as insane. I wouldn't feel so awful or jealous. And then I remember why I came to the conclusion that I'm a lesbian. I just wouldn't care if it were a man. I just can't bring myself to care about men like that 😔😩😭

[u3pxx]

gonna be an online learning website hater again i HATE it when they don't allow you the option to submit after the timer runs out on a submission bin. like cmon man, deduct me the points when i pass it or whatever orz

[good-beanswrites]

An 0309 drabble for an anon ask I got a bit ago :) Thank you for being patient, I really enjoyed writing this!! It's actually a little moment I've wanted to write since I started Milgram fic, but never got around to it. (I mention his injured eye, but don't actually describe anything)

“Stop moving around so much.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I mean it. You’ll make things worse.”

Mikoto watched as the intensity in Fuuta’s gaze flickered between fire and fear.

He had a doctor’s kit laid out on his lap. Recently, Shidou had his hands full with Mahiru’s treatments and having intense conversations with Haruka, so Mikoto wanted to give him a break. With none of the injuries actually healing as they should, the prisoners were caught in an endless loop of changing bandages and checking for complications.

Shidou was grateful for the help. Many of the others tolerated Fuuta in the same way they spent only the necessary time around Mikoto. They smiled and placated him, acting like he’d gone mad all of the sudden. Whatever was making the others avoid the two of them, it drew the pair together. Mikoto was finding he enjoyed Fuuta’s company. Something about him was rather… charming. 

“Me? You’re the asshole that will make things worse. You’re no doctor! Fuck you.”

Eh, maybe he had gone mad. 

He took comfort, at least, in the knowledge that Fuuta was growing more comfortable with him. He sure had a special way of showing it, but Mikoto didn’t brag about being a people-person for nothing – he picked up on the way Fuuta sought him out during the day, pretending to be involved in his own activities. The way he struck up a conversation, then acted as if it had been Mikoto’s idea to come over and bother him. 

Therefore it was exciting, though not surprising, when Fuuta allowed Mikoto to help treat his injuries. They had only done it a few times, but today brought a whole new challenge. 

“I’m not performing surgery or anything. Shidou said it just needs some basic disinfecting.” He flashed his usual grin. “I have a steady hand – I’m a photographer, you know.”

Aside from Shidou, Fuuta hadn’t allowed a single person to look under his eyepatch. 

He remained unamused by Mikoto’s smile. For better or worse, he could always tell when it was forced. “It’s not like I have any proof of that. You could be awful at it, for all I know.”

“First chance I get, I’ll request a camera and prove it. Want me to take a picture of you first?”

“If you haven’t already messed up my face…” Fuuta’s focus was glued to the hand carefully reaching towards him. 

Mikoto pouted his lips. “Shidou trusted me enough with this. And you must have, because you agreed earlier. So If it’s not about me… You’re not scared, are you?”

There were some things that Fuuta didn’t stop to see through. He sputtered in surprise. “Hell no!” He lifted his chin, finally taking his attention off Mikoto’s hands. He stared defiantly. “I can take it.”

Mikoto felt a bit guilty for resorting to foul play. But not that guilty. “Good. Now hold still...”

He got right to it. One hand held ginger hair out of the way, while the other pinched the corner of the eyepatch. Fuuta’s good eye darted nervously around the room, avoiding the other's close-leaning face. Mikoto peeled it away swiftly, gently

As a horror movie buff, the injury didn’t faze him in the slightest. As someone who’d grown close to Fuuta recently, he felt a wave of anguish at the sight.

Fuuta squirmed. “It’s nasty, isn’t it…”

Mikoto reached down for some supplies. He considered mustering up a smile and saying there was no need to worry so much, but it would have been pointless. Times like these, it was kind of a relief when someone else could see right through him for a change. 

“It looks like it hurts.”

“Tch, I don’t need any pity from you.”

“I was going to say, you hide it well. You’re tougher than the warden gives you credit for.”

His cheeks flushed red. “I – I don’t need any flattery from you either!”

“Don’t need anything from anybody, huh?”

Before he could come up with a retort, he hissed through his teeth in pain.

“Ah, sorry.” Mikoto immediately retracted his hand from where it had been dabbing alcohol onto the injury.

Steeling his expression, he muttered, “it’s fine.”

Mikoto tried again. He made sure to move with even more steadiness, his face drawn up in concentration. He saw Fuuta’s features flinch when he touched him, but he stayed still. The two were silent, now, as Mikoto worked. Leaning his face so close made the short task feel much longer. The reddening in his cheeks didn't subside.

He expected Fuuta to snatch the fresh eyepatch away the moment he unwrapped it – he was shocked that Fuuta let him adjust it into place without a word.

“Alright. You’re all set.” He started packing up the kit.

“Listen, don’t tell the others. About my eye.”

Mikoto squinted. He gestured to the right side of his face. “I hate to break it to you, but the big patch kinda gives you away.”

“You idiot! I just mean, don’t tell them what it looks like.” He pulled his hood down over his hair. “I don’t need everyone trying to steal a look at it like I’m some sort of freakshow.”

“Hey, of course.” Mikoto gave him a smile, the kind they both knew was genuine. “I’ve got you.”

Fuuta nodded. He turned his face away, his fingers lingering over where Mikoto’s had just been. “... And… thanks.”

[francisforever2014]

came out to my dad 👍 there’s officially no area of my life in which i’m not out and proud we did it queers