#it genuinely enrages me when people take me seriously now that i pass when i KNOW they're not taking my girl friends seriously

[vampiromano]

also it's kinda sexist to say women are innocent creatures who could never hurt a fly and are ultimately Harmless, and are Separate from Strong, Evil men.

like imagine calling yourself a feminist and then essentially agreeing with sexist guys who think women are delicate flowers with no effect upon the world.

sorry to keep posting about terfs but they've been crawling all over me like weevils for the last few days. comrade if you are styling yourself as a serious political thinker and posting this as a serious political take then there is no saving you. ppl will call themselves communists and then post this nonsense. what vibes-based social critique does to a mfer.

[iwouldntstopforaredlight]

Okay so here’s the Ted Lasso theory that no one asked for that I just can’t seem to let go of: I think the crux of this season is Ted’s fear that he is becoming his father.

Wow I know that seems like it comes out of nowhere, but hear me out. The show has been showing Ted’s drinking increasing slowly but steadily as the series continues. It’s been subtle, but there have been moments where it’s felt important that Ted’s drinking be noticed by the viewer. It felt as though this peaked in this episode (2x07), an inordinate division of time seemed to be allocated to the scene of Ted in the pub drinking that second beer; relying on alcohol to soften a hard day. But this wasn’t the only mention of Ted’s drinking in 2x07. While the reference was hidden within a typical folksie Ted story that leaves the audience unsure of how seriously they should take it, he mentions passing out after drinking too much beer while watching citizen Kane during his story about two day old stew. Now, I don’t know if I’m reading too much into this BUT if you look at coach Beard’s face in that moment, he doesn’t look amused like he usually does at Teds antics. He almost looks concerned. Unusual for someone who’s generally shown to be so very in tune with what Ted means.

But what does this mean? Well, I think it might be connected to Ted’s therapy and his father.

Now, we don’t know too much about Ted’s dad. All we know is that he died when Ted was 16, and that he used to take Ted to a sports bar with him every weekend until he passed away. It’s really not too much to go on. So what else do we know? Well we know that Ted hates therapists, he doesn’t believe they genuinely care about/are able to help their patients—so much so that he becomes enraged when simply talking to Dr. Sharon, something very out of character for him. We also know he goes above and beyond to make people feel good and heard when he speaks to them, so much of his charm seems to be his desire to share a genuine connection with everybody he meets. Also interestingly in this episode was his very vocal dedication to ‘never give up on anything’. And this wasn’t the first time we’ve heard this mantra. He mentioned it when he agreed to the divorce with Michelle—one of the most emotional scenes we’ve seen of Ted to date. But how does this all tie together?

‘Believe’ he tells the team. ‘I believe in believe.’ To believe so passionately in belief, who did you have to see fail without it? What did you have to go through with only belief to get you through?

Well … and bear with me here … I think when he was 16, Ted’s father may have committed suicide.

It just seems understandable that in the event of his Dad’s death in this way, Ted felt abandoned and let down by his father. It would even make sense of his anger towards therapy if his father (and/or he himself as a child/his mother) received therapy that Ted views as having had no impact on them; let down when he needed it most by help that didn’t help. ‘I promise you, there is something worse out there than being sad, and that is being a l o n e and being sad.’ How many times have we heard Ted utter the words ‘I appreciate you’. Over and over again, never allowing anyone to doubt their importance or their contribution. And what did he say to Beard: “I love meeting people's moms. It’s like reading an instruction manual as to why they're nuts”.

I even think this may be the cause of his panic attacks too. Now I know the first panic attack we see Ted having was to do with his divorce, but what we (and Ted) heard underneath ‘let it go’ (a song from a CHILDS movie) was not Michelle’s voice, but Henry’s … the son he feels he is abandoning. Now if he still views himself as having abandoned his son, and his drinking is increasing it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine he’s beginning to see similarities between himself and his father. I know I’m making quite a big assumption about his fathers drinking habits, but in all honesty, who else would take a 10 year old child to a sports bar EVERY weekend? (I think there may be a ‘father was a coach’ (… Led Tasso anyone?) element to it too—the darts, the way Jamies fathers screaming so obviously effected and stuck with him, the way he was scared while winning that match, ‘you may think you’re the only one who can see who he really is, but you’re not’—but it hasn’t quite clicked for me yet the way everything else has). The second panic attack I initially believed to be stress related, and I do still believe that, but what if it hit deeper than that. Again the voice playing through his head is not a soundbite about how Richmond needs to win to make it back into the premier league, but rather it’s a memory of Jamie’s father angrily telling him ‘you’re better than that!’, followed by Henry’s awed voice when meeting Jamie. Fathers and sons, and sons and their fathers … always at the heart of his panic.

Even Nate’s storyline itself this season, filled with so much anger and change, seems to be centring around the impact of Nate’s father’s actions on Nates perception of himself and his own actions. It just … well … it seems to coincidental for a show that seems to value its characters so dearly.

When he’s talking to Dr. Sharon, he mentions the ‘gory details’ of his life: ‘the fights, the mistakes, [his] deep dark secrets’. Again I don’t believe he’s talking about Michelle. Not wholly. There seems to be too much tied up in his ability to coach, protect, and connect. His assertion multiple times that ‘wins don’t matter’ when talking with Beard earlier in the series personifies this. Ted is in coaching for the people, not the wins, so why would the potential of a loss or win impact him so much. I feel like I may be reaching again, but still, with the show making the connections between fathers and sons in his panic attack during the game, it makes me think that this mentality, and the way he views coaching, is connected to his father.

A reason for him to so desperately hold onto a lack of significance around the usual primary objective of his profession would seem to be exposure to the negative side of the consequences of that world of thought. Ted views a single minded desire to win as a negative. He values player mental health above all else. I just can’t let the feeling go that this is extremely significant, more so than Ted just being the genuine guy he is. I think people who feel this way to this extreme, in these circumstances especially in this profession, usually have a serious reason why. I think Ted blames himself. I think Ted blames his father. I think he’s pushed it down more than he ever thought. And I think it’s all coming up now.

Now that he’s caring about winning. Now that (in his mind) he’s left his son behind. Left his wife behind. Left his responsibilities behind. And he can’t burden anyone with those feelings. Because he feels it’s his job to make sure no one ever feels that burden again.

[docholligay]

The Caledonian Sleeper

As much as I think of being in a place, I think of going to it. Some of my strongest memories are int he transitory moments between places. Airports. Bus stations. Long stretches of highway where the story unrolls onto the sparkling asphalt. 

And so, while it might seem strange to some that I would take the train as seriously as I might Westminster Abbey or any given castle, to me it seems a natural part of any story. The conclusion is hardly ever the most interesting part, anyhow. 

The sleeper train seemed a natural idea to me, when I was planning.

Jill had never been on a train, and I hardly considered myself an expert at the task, having sent a number of emails to patient friends with answers so simple they couldn’t even conceive of what it is I was actually asking and letting that stand for wisdom. I held the tickets in my hand, freshly printed from my little folder where I kept all my passes and tickets and reservations in a neat line. Anyone who didn’t know any better might think me organized instead of so terrified of my own forgetfulness that I can hardly breathe. 

The train was so long it seemed to disappear around the edge of the dark track at Euston station, night hanging, finally, over the silver iron that gilded the the platform. My eyes searched the assistants with the small deer embroidered on the front of their vests, staring back to my tickets, and then to them, and then to my tickets. 

It’s always jarring when everyone seems to know something you don’t. 

But I cannot have been the first tourist to have ridden the sleeper, I say to myself, and so I gathered my courage and asked one of the bevested individuals by the track where we should go. He was friendly and helpful, and asked if we’d prefer coffee or tea for the morning. We shimmed our luggage sideways down the small corridor to our room, and opened the door. 

One piece of advice I will give, while singing the praises of the Caledonian Sleeper, is that there’s not a lot of room for luggage. Now, if you live in and around London, and you are popping up for the weekend or even a week, this will likely come as no trouble to you. My fellow Americans, and perhaps even Canadians, who would head over for several weeks, please be warned about the situation. I was not warned about the situation, and the people who take the pictures for Caledonian Sleeper must be the same as those who take incredibly, skillfully deceptive pictures for airbnbs. 

All of this became shockingly clear to me as I was trying to shove my half an inch too tall luggage under the bed. I am not going to insult all of us by saying that I am always a level headed and easygoing sort of person. I can sometimes be that person, and in a genuine crisis, I often am that person. But when the crisis is limited to “My suitcase won’t fit under the bed” I am often not that person, and instead get incredibly flustered and moderately enraged. 

Add that to the fact that it is also too small to fully open my suitcase, and my moderate rage becomes slightly less moderate. 

All this to say that describe the rooms on the Caledonian Sleeper as compact is to be giving it the utmost amount of grace. My wife and I, neither of us particularly wide-set people, could not both stand in our room with our luggage, even closed, as it had to rest up by the sink. We put our carry-on size baggage under the bed, and Jill sat on the bed while I got into my pajamas, and then I jumped into the top bunk while she got into her pajamas. 

I laid in the top bunk, reading as the train slowly began to fill, doors shutting all around us. A benefit of this train, in particular, is it allows you to board nearly an hour and a half before it departs. The train ride itself isn’t really that long, so that allows you to get a jump start on your sleep for the night. As the chatting died down, and the train began to pull away from the station, I was rocked in my bunk. 

It’s strange, to experience something you’ve only ever seen in a movie, something that doesn’t feel quite real. Imagining myself on a sleeper train was more or less like imagining myself hiking across the savanna--certainly it must be a thing that people do, but it seemed like it would never be a a thing for me to do. I laid there thinking about it for awhile. It wasn’t quite as jarring as the first time I’d gone overseas, or seen the ocean, or even when I went to London for the first time, all of which seemed strictly fictional to me also. My life has been good enough, and lucky enough, and I’ve worked hand enough, all in a blend, over the last ten years, that some things I thought would never happen have left off being dreams. Who am I to be so lucky as to be laying in a bunk on my way to Scotland? Who are any of us? 

We pulled the shade down--it gets light early in Montana come summer as well, and we knew rough to know that we didn’t want to be woken up at 5 am by the sunrise--and turned off the lights. The trip itself isn’t terribly long, and so depending on exactly how much sleep you need as a human being, you may want to get to it earlier than we did. 

I have always been an easier sleeper than Jill. I’m an easier sleeper than most people, honestly. So long as I can lie down, I can sleep nearly anywhere, up to and including, on one very memorable vacation, the aisle floor of a bus. But more than that, the Caledonian Sleeper is comfortable. Once one is in the bunk, the design feels a bit more well considered. I found the mattress perfectly acceptable, though my butch lesbian princess declared it to be a little firm for her tastes. There’s a small shelf right next to your head, with a little light and easy to manage plug ins. I don’t know which god is responsible for the USB plug gaining power in the world, but I thank them. All around the UK we found more and more places that had USB plugs, giving into the notion that we are perhaps a global society now, and five different plug arrangements is not going to do. 

If you are tall, the bed may seem a bit of a tight fit. I’m to the short side, and found it very comfortable, and my wife, while not being what I would call full on tall, is certainly jumping in that direction at 5’9’’, and said it was fine but a little tight. I think you’d probably be fine up to about 5’11’’ or maybe even 6 foot, if you don’t need much room around you, but any taller than that and its probably going to feel cramped. 

The rocking of the train is either soothing or infuriating, depending on the sort of human being you are. I cannot possibly hope to predict this for you, I can only reflect the experience as she is, but I will tell you that there is a lot of rocking. A bit like being on the sea, if the sea were shaking you back and forth like a little goldfish in a bag, and also if I had any idea what it was like to traverse the sea. I found it very comforting, and slept very hard. Though, again, I tend to be a bit of a lightswitch. I’m either off or on. 

In the morning, Jill opened the shade to the delightful view of green grass and sheep. She took in a deep breath and a smile. 

“It’s just so nice to see green after being in a city so long” 

We’d been in London for three days, but she isn’t made for it. She wasn’t wrong, either. There was something magical about going to sleep in stone and iron, and waking up in trees and sunlight. Sleep is often transformative, but rarely does it get the chance to be fully magic that it was here. A knock at our door, and a delivered set of coffees, and we readied to pull into Glasgow. 

The hilarity of getting into one’s pajamas in such a small area is nothing compared to the hilarity of trying to get dressed in a such a small area. A plan must be made. Mostly, this plan consisted of my wife and I figuring out how to take the ladder off the bed, giving us some extra room, wriggling into things on the bed, and taking turns. This wasn’t my first time doing eyeliner on a train, actually, so that wasn’t quite the problem one might have assumed. 

The Calendonian Sleeper isn’t particularly cheap, but given the expense of hotels in Glasgow, and, more importantly for me, the fact that you are not in any way wasting time it’s worth it.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 4

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Bullying and non-explicit violence in this chapter, Peter whump.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: WE'VE GOT PLOT! Peter Parker deserves better. Steeb needs a vibe check cuz he keeps failing them :( Boomers are hot but ... Boomers. KitKat, anyone? Natasha is a Brain Cell™. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​ @hermione-grangers-wife​ @downeyreads​ @individualistfem​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings 👑 - titty gators assemble! 👀

I scheduled a visit to the tower two days after my "illness" episode. Most of my lows passed without any lingering, the headache was gone and so was the nausea. My mood was still somewhere between "please kill me" and "I could eat a lot of cake right now" but it was bearable. I was very much looking forward to occupying myself with the project if only to divert my focus from overthinking about my own misery.

Peter said he was going to see Tony straight after school and offered for me to tag along with him: Tony sent his driver to pick up the boy. I didn't have the heart to refuse, seeing no point in waiting for an Uber on a rainy workday afternoon. Traffic was horrendous in New York city no matter the weather but a downpour took the congestions to a new height.

When I spotted the sleek, black brand new Audi I made a beeline for it, waving to Happy as I crawled inside as fast as I could. "Don't get the seats wet," The chauffeur grumbled.

"It's wet outside," I rolled my eyes into the next dimension. Whoever thought his nickname was in any way appropriate needed a psych eval. Peter sat on my right side looking wet and downright miserable. I had to swallow a string of expletives at the sight in front of me: the entirety of Peter's right cheek was an ugly shade of blue, eye on it's way to swelling shut and lip busted open. "What in the everliving fuck happened to you?!" Breathing through my nose, I fought bubbling rage inside of me. Peter looked like he went toe to toe with a Hulk.

"Flash happened," The boy mumbled, whining and brooding simultaneously. His cheeks glowed.

"That little runt?" I took another pause to steady my breathing, tentatively reaching out for Peter's hand. He grasped it tightly in gratitude. "Well, did you at least fight back?"

"No, I... I can't do that," Peter became even smaller, curling into the seat and in himself. I was disappointed for sure as I wouldn't just stand there and take a beating, but Pete was different. He was sensitive-a total pacifist to boot.

"Do any of the teachers know? I'm guessing this isn't the first time," Sure, I've seen Parker with an occasional scrape or a bruise but I'd always figured it was just him being a teenage nuisance. Curtain of depression I had over the previous days slowly began morphing into cold fury.

"No, well, they probably do. But Flash is the principal's son so they ignore it, I guess," Peter sighed in defeat. "Mr. Stark doesn't know either. Please don't tell him," He begged.

"Abuse thrives in silence," I parroted our sex-ed teacher but otherwise made no promises. My mind raced between comforting Peter and ordering Happy to turn the car around so I could find the shitty excuse of a human named Flash Thompson and violently make it known what happens to people when they get me pissed off.

"What are you going to tell Tony?" I asked Peter as we herded into the elevator, slightly wet and mostly miserable.

"I have an idea or two," The boy answered darkly.

"You have been summoned to the common floor, I was instructed to notify you there is food to be eaten before sciencing, per Doctor Banner's orders," Friday announced, rerouting the elevator to the aforementioned destination. Peter groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands.

"What the fuck happened to you, kid?" Bucky decided screeching like a banshee and attracting at least five of his teammates to come running from the dining room was the best way to approach an obviously spooked Peter. The boy shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Our classmate beat him up," I answered before Pete could lie. "The fucking runt that doesn't know his damn place. His two cronies probably too," The venom in my voice could've melted steel. I was genuinely furious.

"What's his name?" Captain-Steve growled. I was taken aback at the large blonde man suddenly standing up, fists clenched. My feet moved involuntarily, taking a step back from the enraged supersoldier and Pete cowered, startled.

I stepped in front of him immediately. "I'm gonna need you to chill the fuck down, Cap," The trembling in my voice persisted but I stood my ground nonetheless. "Your roid rage is going to land you in prison if you keep going," In my own rage, self-preservation went out of the window along with common sense. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, Peter was downright shaking behind me.

"She's right," Bucky darkly eyed his friend. "Off to the sparring mats with you." He grabbed Rogers by the shoulder with his prosthetic arm all but hauling the blonde towards the elevator. Thor immediately took the Captain's other side, not quite touching him but obviously giving his friend a vibe check. I could've clapped. Not that Steve resisted much, but still.

"Everyone calm down, please," The Black Widow piped up in an even tone. I can always count on a fellow woman to keep calm in a situation where men's tempers almost cause a disaster. "Now, tell us what happened," She approached Peter on quiet feet. The boy shuffled around me looking every bit as dejected as I felt about the situation. "And someone fetch some ice for that bruise," Romanoff's offhand gesture had Barton scrambling into the kitchen.

Peter sat down on the couch, looking at the floor. "Flash has been bothering me since, like, forever and today I just ignored his usual remarks because I had a calculus test, I- I wanted to make sure I knew everything, and I was sitting in a really quiet corner, and I- Ned was hanging out with MJ somewhere and I guess Flash got angry that I didn't answer," Peter rambled in his usual nervous fashion, sentences jumbling together. Natasha kept nodding, simply hugging the boy softly with one arm. As soon as Clint came back with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel Natasha's other arm pressed it gently to Peter's bruised face. The assassin frowned at the pained whine that left Peter's lips.

"Honestly, that dude is a fucking piece of shit, I'm surprised how he's not in jail yet," I piped up from where I was pacing along the large window overlooking the city skyline. Wound up and tense, I couldn't stay still. "He stole a senior's car for a joyride, last year. He routinely picks on the freshmen and I've personally dislocated his wrist from slapping me on the ass in, like, eight grade," Peter's eyebrows raised at my admission and Natasha gave me a vaguely approving hum.

I caught Peter's eye the moment elevator doors opened revealing a panicked looking Tony and a worried Bruce with Loki standing behind them, talking to a man in... Robes? And a red cape?

"What happened to my science child?!" Tony's fury rang high. The engineer rushed over to Peter, frantically checking him over and growling at the state of his face, letting out a string of expletives seeing the busted lip had started to bleed again.

I gave a tiny tilt of my lips to Bruce who had the oddest compilation of worried, confused and amused in his expression.

"You should probably get him to a doctor, I think his mouth is cut on the inside," I scooted closer to Banner, informing him quietly.

"I'm a doctor," The man in the cape announced, ... strutting (!) over to Pete. There was really no other way to describe his long, precise strides. He quickly butted Tony out of the way and instructed Peter to open his mouth.

"This is utter chaos," Loki muttered, sitting down on the furthest end of the couch.

"It is and I'm living for it," I sighed. The situation was very disorganized with Tony flailing about in blind panic, Bruce just standing there, Cap's rage quit and subsequent intervention by his buddies. Then the new strange dude... Loki was brooding and honestly? Big mood. The only person who made some resemblance of order out if this cluster fuck was Natasha.

All and all, it was quite endearing. I imagined that's what a large, close family would look like. When I said I was enjoying myself - no lie there, even despite the grim situation.

"How are you? Are you hurt?" Bruce quietly asked me, laced with concern. His shoulders relaxed somewhat when I shook my head negative. "Hungry?" I nodded affirmatively and the doctor produced a kit kat bar seemingly out of nowhere, winking at me with a boyish smile. I just about melted on the spot, tearing off a block and giving it to him to avoid any embarrassing reactions I might possibly spout in the wake of my recently acquired crush.

We munched in silence as the Cape Guy explained to Peter (and anxious Tony) that a few butterfly stitches would be needed as well as CT scan to rule out a possible concussion. At that point Tony was steadily turning purple in colour, rage and anxiety combining for a large storm that no doubt will hit sooner or later.

I felt responsible, I guess. Peter must've known Tony was going to react so strongly to his science son getting hurt and well, I hated seeing Tony so mad and helpless. On soft feet, I padded over to the engineer, making sure to stay within direct line of vision. "Tones?" He shot his eyes at me. He was furious. "Look, I'm going to make that fucker's life a living hell," Tony made an agitated noise of protest however I wasn't having it. I knew I'd be in trouble later but for now, I firmly placed my palm over his mouth, enjoying the surprised widening of his eyes at the frivolous gesture. "Listen, right now you can't do shit. You guys are super-powered individuals and Flash is just a nasty kid. You'll get in a big fat mess and he'll get to go away with a slap on the wrist," Tony sagged, visibly, bodily, and I felt it was safe to remove my hand from his face.

"I hate to say it but she's right," Bruce piped up behind me, voice soft.

I nodded. "I'm going to ruin the guy without putting a single finger on him," Tony nodded grimly and Cape Guy halted his examination of Peter's head to give me a mildly concerned stare. "My mother is a litigator, a vicious one at that. I've learned a trick or two," I winked with a grim sort of amusement causing the man to snort. Tony chuckled humorlessly. "As much as I hate to be the voice of reason, it would be a shame for anybody in this tower to end up behind bars. Even if it would be for a good cause," I finished my speech, patting Tony on the shoulder. The surprised squeak made its way out of my mouth when the billionaire pulled me tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around me in a desperate hug.

Ignoring my skyrocketing heartbeat, I wrapped myself around him as best as I could. Whatever issues the man had, they had to be quite painful if he reacted to the situation so intensely. I was selfish, but not heartless, so I gave into the affectionate gesture despite the inappropriate feelings that blossomed within me.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you," Peter whined, fat round tears beginning to drip down his cheeks. I could tell he was embarrassed beyond Hell but his feelings overwhelmed him enough to just spill through. I immediately made my meanest big eyes to Natasha and Cape Guy who immediately hugged the life out of Pete. There, all set.

"Now go get that scan done," I frowned, seeing Peter start to nod off. "I don't know your name, but can you arrange that? Since you're a doctor," I nodded to the Cape Guy.

"I'm Stephen Strange," he replied, effortlessly picking up a dozing Peter and carrying him to the elevator. Before I could react, he waved his one free hand in some sort of a circle and a glowing ring appeared with what seemed to be a ER room - Strange hastily stepped through, followed by Tony suddenly withdrawing and hurrying after the ... Wizard? The portal closed immediately after.

"What the fuuuuuck..." I gaped at the now empty space. Strange, indeed. Even Loki's scoff didn't put a dent in my perplexed curiosity.

"So, lawyer family, huh?" Natasha, who I'd forgotten about, spoke up, mildly interested.

"Just my mother," I replied casually. They were the last thing in the world I wanted to talk about, especially after being so upset for the past hour. Man, I needed a drink. My hands itched for a cigarette.

"What about your father?" The spy didn't relent, pushing the issue with deadly politeness - I was actually sure she'd threaten me into talking about it even if I refused to.

"He's a celebrity manager."

"Cool," Her tone perked up at that. "Know anyone famous?"

"Know? No," I thought about all the A-list Hollywood stars I've been around, the endless parade of one-hit-wonder musicians that my dad hung out with on a daily basis. "I've crossed paths with at least half the Billboard TOP 40 but that's about it. Katy Perry was really nice," I added as an afterthought.

"I see," Natasha gave me a thoughtful once-over, patting the seat next to her. "So tell me, what do you have in mind for this Flash kid?"

My smile came out sharp and vicious. People tended to underestimate the quiet, quirky loner and I was about to remind them exactly why my kind of kids usually ended up with either millions in their bank accounts or a lengthy criminal record. "I'm going to annihilate any chance he has with having a social life, a girlfriend and I'll be damned if he gets into college without his parents going bankrupt. It goes like this..."

The ominous beginning of my plan attracted everybody in the room, even Loki. If anything, he offered the most constructive advice and the smirk he wore was positively devilish. Steve, Bucky and Thor emerged sometime during the scheming and hastily joined us, identically grim expressions on their faces. We barely managed to get done with our nefarious cackling when a portal appeared once again, Stephen stepping out of it with Tony carrying a sleeping Peter. The boy's head was bandaged, he looked like a mummy.

I stood up, beelining for Tony. "Is Pete okay? Did you call May?"

"He's not concussed but he's taking the day off tomorrow. Yes, I called May. Pete is staying here tonight," Tony looked and sounded like an exhausted, worried parent.

The urge to squee appeared again and I stomped it down with a hard "Good. We made a plan. The fucker is going to choke on his own misery," I gestured to the people sitting in a circle behind me.

Strange snorted.

Furious. I was furious.

Hands on my hips, I swerved towards him, instantly recognizing the ridiculousness of the situation. Here I stood, an eighteen year old high school student, in my fluffy rainbow sweater and denim overalls, staring down a whole grown ass man with magic powers. I digress, my pride won the race against my common sense. "Ex-fucking-cuse you, Voldemort, that's my fucking friend on the line," I seethed, giving him my best death glare.

"Language," Tony barely held together his laughter, looking at the unfolding mess with amusement. Somewhere behind me, somebody chuckled, then I recognised Loki's signature "ehehe" and it kind of went downhill from there. It's a miracle Peter didn't wake up.

"I'd be careful, Strange, she holds up against Stark very well," Loki's quiet compliment only made me preen and puff out my chest in a display of dominance. Stephen's responding eye roll was more fond than annoyed. I counted it as a win.

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki x Reader - You're Cellmates

Warnings: being imprisoned, angst, low-key sexual tension between Loki and the reader, vulgar language, implied smut, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5,6K

Summary: Loki is imprisoned by his father, and so are you. You’re an Avenger, so you and Loki don’t get along too well after what happened in New York. As time passes, you learn to know each other better. There is an obvious tension between you two and soon enough, you do something about it. All seems relatively well until Loki gets the news of his mother’s death. You didn’t think you could ever see the god of mischief upset, but when you do, all you want to do is comfort him.

Author’s Note: This was requested by someone anonymously. I hope they see this :) Please enjoy! Xx

THIRD POV

Odin was definitely not the same king he was before, or perhaps he had always been an asshole. Y/N wasn’t sure whether it was the first or the latter, but she didn’t care. The old king pissed her off and completely pushed aside what mattered the most, the safety of the people. He ignored her when she tried to tell the king that throwing Loki in a cell - as tempting as it was - it was wrong. The god of mischief had valuable information that could lead Y/N and the other Avengers to the people who stood behind this all. Deep down, she was aware that Loki didn’t do what he did in New York all by himself.

But now that Loki had been thrown away in a cell, it was useless to get answers.

In a moment in which Y/N’s anger mixed with worry and even hatred, she had let go of the grip she had on her tongue and let Odin hear his honors – which hadn’t been so wise after all. After all, no one disrespected a king without consequences.

Long story short, Odin had decided that if she was so determined to crack Loki, she could gladly join him in the heavily guarded dungeons. Thor tried to stop his father from imprisoning Y/N, who had done nothing wrong, but even his word wasn’t heard.

That’s how Y/N ended up being marched down the long, dark halls of the prison to her cell which would be her home for a while. The most dangerous creatures from all around the galaxy were there, looking at her with curious eyes. Some of them looked unbothered as others seemed to enjoy the female company. Seeing the others made her stomach churn in disgust. It was so unfair that she had to be here among such horrible criminals! She knew that she could get out if needed, but for now, she didn’t want to risk it, so she played along.

Of course, Odin’s words had to be taken seriously. Instead of getting her own cell in the large prison, she was going to spend her time with Loki! It was almost comedic at that point. She was going to be locked away with the man she fought against. Great!

Truth be told, she was angry at him. She thought she had known the prince. After all, Y/N was Asgardian. But it turned out she didn’t know him as well as she thought. Because of what happened on Midgard, she wasn’t too excited to see him.

Loki heard the heavy footsteps approaching his cell so curiously, he took his eyes off his book and looked at whoever walked there. To see Y/N in the metal chains and cuffs was a surprise. The guards held onto her as if she was a genuine threat and judging by her expression, she looked beyond annoyed and enraged. Their eyes met and Loki smirked, possibly annoying the woman even further. As the guards stopped by Loki’s cell, his smirk was wiped off his face. He froze in shock as he watched them opening the cell magically. They uncuffed Y/N and pushed her forward so she could step inside the bright cell. The moment she was inside, they closed the barrier once more.

Just like that, they were trapped, together.

��Well, well, well, what did you do in order to end up here with me? Did you kill someone?” Loki teased her, trying to hide how surprised he was by making witty statements.

A bed appeared out of nowhere along with a few belongings to keep Y/N company. She didn’t have much. Silently, she sat down on her bed and took a deep breath. Either Loki would make her lose her mind or the awfully bright walls would. “None of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. We’re not going to get rid of each other anytime soon, it seems. You might as well tell me now or I’ll find out eventually,” Loki tried to persuade her. He had a point. That bastard always found out everything one way or another.

As much as she hated it, she decided to tell him. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to him repeating his question either. “To say it shortly, your father is a piece of shit King and clearly, he can’t handle constructive criticism.”

A low chuckle left Loki’s rosy lips, “I can’t say I disagree with you, but I must correct you; he’s not my father.”

“Whatever you say, Loki.”

“But really, why did Odin send you here? There must be something more to it than criticism,” Loki pondered. Knowing that Odin stood behind this only made him even keener on getting answers.

Y/N lay on the bed, resting her head on the surprisingly soft pillow. She let her tense muscles relax as she closed her eyes. Perhaps she could pass time by meditating? “I told him that I wanted information from you and that imprisoning you was a big mistake. After he refused to listen to me, I might’ve called him out on a few things. The eye thing really got to the old man,” Y/N shrugged, pretending to be cool about it although deep inside she felt like she was losing it. 

She was Loki’s cellmate!

          A few days passed very slowly. The only time Y/N could get some privacy was when she used the bathroom which was magically hidden behind the bright white wall as if it led to another dimension. Otherwise, she would be in their shared cell, trying to come up with things to do to pass the time. For most of the time, Loki and Y/N ignored each other. Eventually, one of them would get so bored that they ended up speaking.

At first, it had been slightly awkward and annoying. Being unable to escape one another was taking a toll on their nerves, but when they found common ground, it wasn’t all that bad. Loki wasn’t as big of an asshole as Y/N thought he’d be. Sure, he was mean, but she believed he was putting up an act. Loki wanted to distance himself from others by building up his walls. She knew far too well what that was like, which was why she recognized that from his behavior.

Y/N had noticed that Loki would lie on his bed with his eyes closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. It was almost as if the god of mischief was daydreaming, which definitely made Y/N curious for once. After she had witnessed Loki like that several times now, she finally wanted to question him about it.

He was deep in thought, so he didn’t even flinch when Y/N walked over to the other side of the cell. It wasn’t until she sat down at the end of his bed that Loki opened his eyes and sighed. He seemed annoyed to be disturbed, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have all the time in the world to return to whatever he was doing after she was done talking to him.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked him calmly. It amazed her how relaxed she was around him. Before Loki had fallen off the Bifrost, she had seen him in the halls of the palace. They never talked much and honestly, she always thought he liked to be mysterious. When they did talk, it had always been very polite. That all changed when Y/N, just like the other Avengers, stood against him in New York. Now they were locked away together, kept hidden from the rest of the nine realms and beyond.

“That is none of your business,” Loki told her sharply. Of course, he was moody. His mother had visited him, either in secret or not, Y/N didn’t know. She hadn’t heard their conversation, because of the magic barrier around them but when Loki was left alone, he was different. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the conversation they had was unpleasant which now resulted in a moody prince.

Unafraid of Loki’s presence, Y/N moved her legs up on the bed too, hugging her knees as she rested her eyes on Loki. She hated that she found him attractive. When she forgot about the fact that he was supposed to be her enemy, she did think that he was alright. Loki was smart, incredibly clever and his abilities were astonishing. So yes, she didn’t think that he was that bad. “I told you why I ended up here. Whatever you’re doing can’t be that bad.”

Loki rolled his jade eyes, trying to act like he didn’t care less about her when the truth was that he did. Y/N, despite joining his brother and his earthly friends, was different. She had the guts to stand up against Odin and Loki had to respect that. She had even heard her unleash her sharp tongue of Thor back in the old days. If it wasn’t for their current situation, he would’ve gladly tried to become friends with her. Now everything seemed so useless. Nothing had a purpose, not truly.

His silence was defeating. He wasn’t an easy egg to crack, but Y/N wasn’t someone who gave up easily either. Careful not to push his buttons, she tried again, “You know how it goes, Loki. If I show you mine, you show me yours,” Y/N tried to refer to the conversation they had when she arrived there. She didn’t intend to sound that dirty, but it was too late after the words had already left her mouth.

Did she seriously just say that?

Loki clenched his jaw as the naughty thoughts entered his head. It was impossible not to think of it like that, but Loki tried to avoid letting his thought slinger. The more he thought about her, the more he liked her. He hated that he cared for someone. Fuck. “You won’t give up, will you?” He finally said something. As their eyes met, he noticed how flustered she seemed. Behind her confident smirk, he noticed a shyer side of her. She probably hadn’t expected to sound so frisky either. It was undeniable that her words set fire to a new kind of energy in the cell, creating a tension that wasn’t there before.

“We have all the time in the world,” Y/N said again.

Loki knew she was right. He sat up on the bed and crossed his long legs, sitting in front of Y/N. It was almost silly how the two of them sat on the bed like children at a sleepover, whispering about some unimportant gossip. Only they weren’t children at a sleepover, they were prisoners among some of the deadliest and most dangerous criminals of the universe. They were fighting against each other not too long ago, but now they were in the same trouble. “What do you think I was doing?” Loki wanted to hear her thoughts.

“Daydreaming,” She said quickly without any hesitation. There was a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. Y/N wished that she was right. The thought of Loki escaping inside his own head was cute, as long as he didn’t go to dark places.

Loki was surprised at her guess. It wasn’t too far off from reality, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be honest with her. “You really think I would do that?”

“Why not? You’re probably trying to come up with an escape plan or something,” Y/N tried to say casually, but it sounded more light-hearted when she laughed softly.

Why was that so cute? Loki couldn’t comprehend why his mind was so tender when it came to her. He could see her good traits and the bad, yet he didn’t manage to hate her. Something about her was so welcoming which almost frightened him. Loki blamed his behavior on isolation. His mind was only playing tricks on him. It had to be that way. “Maybe you’re right,” Loki gave away eventually.

Her eyes lit up. Why was she so happy? Why was she even so interested in his business in the first place? Was the simply longing for company as well or did she actually care?

“Why do you care so much?” Loki asked her as bluntly as he could. He ended up sounding quite harsh, but he didn’t try to correct his tone.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, “Gee, sorry for caring. You’ve just been sitting there all day, of course, I’m curious.”

“ 'Curiosity killed the cat',” Loki remembered an old rather foolish saying, but it was often true. Not that he listened to it. Loki was most certainly curious.

There was a certain look in Loki’s darkened eyes that made Y/N want to go closer to him. His entire presence was charming and threatening at the same time. He wasn’t the most boring cellmate she could’ve gotten. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Y/N admitted as she suddenly got up from his bed. Loki caught himself wishing she would’ve stayed. “It’s not like anyone’s going to attack me anytime soon, unless…” She took a dramatic little pause as she turned to face Loki, “…unless you plan on murdering me in my sleep.”

She said it with such ease, clearly not believing that Loki would do that to her. He liked that she wasn’t terrified of him. Or maybe he just liked her in general. Whatever it was, Loki felt damned. “You better sleep with one eye open,” Loki warned her and for the first time, he sounded calm. That was almost scarier than seeing him angry.

       Y/N’s words hadn’t been the wisest. Believing no one would attack them in such a heavily guarded prison was easy to do, but oh how wrong she had been. Loki and Y/N were minding their own business when all of a sudden it felt like the cell was shaking. It couldn’t have been an earthquake, but it was definitely powerful. Even the bright lights flickered as something seemed to disturb the electricity in the dungeons.

The two cellmates looked at each other wide-eyed, confirming that they both heard and felt that. Moments later, they heard people yelling out in pain, others cheering and a lot of heavy footsteps. The alarms went off and it seemed like that all hell broke loose in only a few seconds. It all came closer to them and fast. Worry began to bubble in Y/N’s chest as she stood up and looked outside their cell. She didn’t want any trouble. After all, she wasn’t even a criminal! Then again, a little prison rebellion could be fun. Unfortunately, something told her this was more than some prison rebellion…

“Loki, what’s going on?” Y/N wondered if he had any knowledge of this.

She hadn’t noticed that he had appeared right next to her. His steps were so silent, he could sneak around like an animal. It almost startled her. “How am I supposed to know?” Loki snapped. That sounded just like him.

The two of them finally noticed what was going on. Something or someone was letting the prisoners out of their cells. The guards struggled to keep them down and some bodies had begun to pile on the polished floors, both prisoners and guards. The sight was shocking, to say at least. Whatever attacked the Asgardian prison had to be dangerous. “That doesn’t look too good,” Y/N mumbled as the creatures neared their cell. All of a sudden, a large, horned beast with small, blue eyes walked straight to the barrier that was the only thing between them. Something about him was awfully familiar.

The creature looked at Y/N through narrowed eyes, then changing its gaze to Loki. Y/N watched from the side as Loki and the strange creature stared each other down. It was intense. The creature had let out every other prisoner, but he hesitated when it came to Loki for some reason. By now, Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest. Would it attack them? What was it? What did it want?

When the creature huffed and eventually walked away, leaving them behind, Loki spoke up “You might want to take the stairs to the left!”

What was he doing?

And it appeared to acknowledge Loki’s advice. It glanced over its shoulder, looking at Loki once more. Loki’s words seemed to be appreciated as the creature continued to do whatever havoc it had on its mind.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Okay, what the hell was that? What just happened!?”

“Clearly, some prisoners wanted to start a riot. It seems like we weren’t invited,” He replied so calmly which was astonishing. Someone just freed the most dangerous criminals from the safety of the dungeons, and they were headed outside! Then again, Loki didn’t seem to care too much about that. They were going to attack the very people who had turned their backs on him.

“For fuck’s sake!” Y/N growled and turned around, annoyed that she was stuck there when she should’ve been outside helping people. Yes, she didn’t like the throne, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t like to defend the people at least.

Loki hadn’t expected to see her this stressed over something like this. Why wasn’t she angry or happy that the prisoners caused a little mayhem? Asgard had turned their shoulder to her as well as Odin imprisoned her for no good reason. She had all the right to be angry at them and thrive as the prisoners caused a little trouble. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll remember us next time around,” Loki tried to cheer her up.

She stared him dead in the eye, “Are you serious? What if they cause huge problems? What if the entire realm burns and we’re stuck here in this tiny, stupid cell!”

It became clear that she was overthinking things. Loki sighed as he tried to stay relaxed. He knew there was no use in getting worried or annoyed. After all, he had been thrown in a cell so whatever issues Asgard faced were no longer his to worry about. “Well, I’d say we make the most of it as we’re stuck here.”

That certainly made Y/N quiet. Loki smirked to top it all off. Did he imply something or was he just teasing her? It was beyond frustrating that she couldn’t tell. She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. As wrong as it was, it did sound a little tempting to let out some steam by delving into pleasure. But with Loki? From a professional point of view, it would be so wrong, but everything else about it was so alluring. 

There was total chaos erupting outside their cell, but somehow all they could think about was each other and the undeniable sexual tension between then that had built up during the past few days.

“What do you have in mind, Loki?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, feeling courageous. Maybe he was right. Maybe all they could do now was to take advantage of the situation. No one would see them anyway.

Loki walked closer to her, never taking his eyes off her eyes. Somehow, he felt even more excited as there was chaos out there. A while ago, they fought against each other and now they were here, moments away from attacking each other with pleasure. It was mesmerizing how fast things could change.

It was almost as their minds connected, lingering on the same wavelength. Loki caressed Y/N’s cheek softly and eventually grabbed a handful of her hair so he could tilt her head. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, feeling nervous, excited and a little rebellious as their lips collided. Her heart wasn’t beating hard from fear anymore but from lust. The kiss turned rough quite fast. They were both pent up with everything and it felt like this was the beginning of something that would ease their minds.

Loki picked her body up and moved towards her bed. Their lips parted when he threw her on the mattress, and he climbed on top of her body. “I’m surprised, Y/N. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Loki teased her a little bit as he grinded his body closer to hers, getting eager pretty fast. How could he not when a woman like her was underneath him and she wanted him too?

“Shut up and kiss me before I change my mind,” Y/N smirked. She knew there was no way she would push him away now, but it was fun to piss him off.

            Getting updates about what happened to Asgard was hard. After all, they were prisoned. After they let their guards down and ended up in bed with each other, the tension between them changed. Being one so intimately made them more comfortable around each other. It didn’t magically make them trust each other, but it was easier to accompany one another in the cell.

They followed the life outside their cell. Some of the prisoners were returned to their cells, some bodies were cleaned from the bloody floors. It was a mess for sure. What it had resulted in, they were yet to find out.

A few days passed and finally, someone seemed to come to visit them. Y/N and Loki had been on his bed as he showed her a page of the book he was reading. When they saw Fandral by the barrier, holding his helmet in his arms, they became worried. Fandral, who was usually quite cheerful and easygoing, looked exhausted and full of sorrow.

When he told Loki the news, it made sense why he looked like that.

Frigga was dead,

she was killed by the dark elves. Her funeral was already arranged, and they hadn’t let Loki attend it.

Just like that, Fandral said his condolences to his past friend, nodded to Y/N respectfully and walked away.

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” Y/N said quietly, tears stinging her own eyes. Everyone loved Frigga. She was the polar opposite of Odin, a sweet and strong Queen. Even though Loki claimed that he didn’t care about his adoptive family, it was clear as daylight that he cared about his mother. Y/N was worried that this would be too much for him. She was genuinely worried about Loki.

Loki got up from the bed and he was eerily silent. Y/N stayed on it, afraid to get in his way. She just watched as Loki now faced her with his back. His breaths became heavier and his fingers curled into fists. Out of nowhere, some of the furniture were knocked across the floor, books and other belongings scattering everywhere. Loki’s magic hit the barrier which radiated a golden light.

He wasn’t only heartbroken over his loss; he was full of rage and disgusted that his so-called father hadn’t even let Loki say his final goodbye to Frigga. The least he deserved was to attend her funeral!

Then Loki remembered Odin’s exact words,

‘Frigga is the only reason you’re alive and you’ll never see her again.’

“I hate him!” Loki shrieked, his deep voice full of anger and spite. “It’s his fault! He should’ve never locked me away. That old beast couldn’t protect her!” Loki continued just as angrily, now turning around to face Y/N. Despite how angry the god was, he had tears forming in his jade eyes. The sight of him standing there broke Y/N’s heart. He looked so hurt. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it felt like to be in his shoes now.

“Neither could Thor…they let her down,” He added more quietly this time and blinked away a tear. That’s when Y/N rose from his bed and tried to walk closer to him carefully as if she was trying to get close to a wild animal. His hurt was justified but also unpredicted.

“I’m so sorry, Loki. I truly am,” Y/N repeated herself, unsure of what to say. She had silent tears rolling down her face too, but she wasn’t nearly as hurt as Loki who felt like he had lost everything. The news of Frigga’s death made his world spin. It simply didn’t feel real, it was so unfair!

His last words to his mother echoed in his head and Loki felt sick. His gut twisted in a rotten way and he was so angry at himself. He had told her she wasn’t his mother, making her cry before she vanished from his sight forever. If only he had known it was the last time they would speak.

Loki remembered the creature by the barrier, who he knew now was named Kurse. Loki had told him to take the stairs to the left. Did he lead the beast to his mother? As much as he didn’t want to believe it, a part of his mind told him that it was all his fault. Guilt hit him like a tidal wave and just like that, he was the contrary of the careless god he pretended to be.

As tears ran down his angered expression, Loki backed away from Y/N, not wanting to hurt her as his rage rippled through his body. Magic was burning his fingertips, begging to be unleashed. He kicked the bedside table that was already knocked over by his magic so hard that it broke.

“Loki!” Y/N knew that he was hurt but destroying things wouldn’t help him. Carefully, she walked back to him, not caring if she got hurt as she ever so gently put her hand on his back. She could feel how fast his chest was rising and she could even feel his heartbeat. “Loki,” She said his name again, but she wasn’t sure what she could say. No words could possibly make him feel better now which she was perfectly aware of.

The tall god turned around, revealing his teary face. Moments later, Y/N wrapped her arms around him, and she pulled him into a loving hug. At first, Loki froze. He wasn’t sure how to react to her affection. But it felt good. He would never admit it, but her comfort was exactly what he needed. Loki clung onto her body and that’s when his demeanour betrayed him.

They eventually ended up sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall as Loki cried against Y/N’s shoulder. He was ashamed that he couldn’t keep himself together but glad that she didn’t judge him as she saw him at his weakest point.

Hearing such raw cries from Loki was something Y/N thought she would never hear. Hell, she hated that for a moment even she thought that he was incapable of feeling when the truth was that he might’ve cared the most. She held him a little tighter as her guilt ate her up alive. They had been so wrong about Loki.

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” Y/N cooed gently after what felt like forever. By now, his cries had calmed down, but his tears were an endless stream. His usually bright eyes full of mischief were now dull and empty. He stared at the floor that was a mess by now, too tired to raise his gaze from it.

Loki’s head rested against Y/N’s chest and her hands were tracing patterns on his back and shoulders. He had to admit that he was glad he wasn’t alone now. If she wasn’t in there with him, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done by now. “I can’t believe she’s gone.” Loki cleared his throat so he could find his voice. He sounded like a broken and beaten man. “My last words to her were so cruel. I told her that I didn’t consider her as my mother.”

Living with that would be hard for him. He could never take those words back, even if he wanted to and it killed him a little bit on the inside.

“I’m sure she knew you didn’t mean it. Frigga loved you so much, Loki,” Y/N tried to comfort him. It was true, after all. Frigga wasn’t secretive about the fact she loved her youngest son. The entirety of Asgard knew about their close bond. It was sweet.

“I wish I could’ve attended her funeral ceremony,” Loki mumbled quietly. “It would’ve been fair!” Out of all the cruel things his ‘father’ had done, this was the worst. Who kept their own son from attending their mother’s funeral? A monster, that is. Odin was a cruel, heartless monster and Loki had no compassion whatsoever left for that man. Not even an ounce.

Y/N hated Odin too and her hatred for him grew after the card he pulled. Something had changed in the old king and honestly, Y/N wished that karma would get to him eventually. Perhaps it had been true. Perhaps Odin had truly been a terrible father all along. It would explain a lot. “When we get out of here, we can hold a separate ceremony for her memory,” Y/N suggested after a while.

That made Loki look up at her. Did she really mean that? He couldn’t understand how anyone, let alone she would want to see him outside this prison cell and do something so considerate. “When we get out of here?” Loki repeated her words, almost cracking a smile at that.

“I’m sure we’ll get out of here one way or another,” Y/N said confidently.

“That would be honorable, Y/N,” Loki admitted. He liked her idea.

Almost as on cue, Thor out of all the Asgardians waltzed down the guarded corridors. Loki rolled his eyes from annoyance as he recognized his brother, but he didn’t get up. Loki had put up an illusion of himself so no one else could see him like this, with messy hair and tearstained cheeks. Whoever was outside their cell saw him well-groomed and fine. He made illusion Y/N sleep on her bed. They were perfectly hidden behind his magic.

Seeing Thor seemed to annoy Loki a lot. “damn,” the prince murmured quietly. That word was so alien from his mouth, but Y/N undrestood why he chose that now.

The two of them watched in silence as Loki’s illusion walked to up Thor, “Thor. After all this time and now you come to visit me. Why? Have you come to gloat? To mock?”

Thor seemed to be affected by his mother’s death too. He wasn’t as jolly as he used to be. In fact, there was a cold look on his face that Y/N hadn’t seen many times before. It was clear that Thor wasn’t in the mood for games nor did he seem to believe Loki was actually that fine.

“Loki enough, no more illusions.”

Despite how fool proof Loki’s illusions were, Thor wasn’t that dumb. Anyone who knew Loki would know that Frigga’s death would take a huge toll on him. Even Thor.

The god of mischief was too tired to keep up his illusions. He wanted to be done with whatever it was Thor was doing, so he lifted his magic, revealing himself and Y/N who was sitting on the floor with him. He sat up straight so Thor wouldn’t have to witness him snuggling against the woman who was supposed to be his enemy. Loki’s sad gaze was now mixed with anger. To say he was happy to see Thor would’ve been a lie.

“Now you see me, brother.”

Y/N didn’t want to say anything. This was clearly between them, so instead, she sat next to Loki and listened. Subconsciously, her hand still held onto Loki’s shoulder and her fingers traced tiny circles over his shirt.

Thor looked at the two of them through narrowed eyes and then he faced Y/N. The god of thunder had not expected to see them like this, so close to each other. They looked incredibly comfortable in each other’s presence. Thor's friend was now huddled up against his brother, which was definitely a sight to remember.

After a brief silence, Loki decided to speak up, “Did she suffer?”

His question made Y/N’s heart ache a little bit. Of course, Loki would want to know everything that happened. It was only natural.

“I did not come here to share our grief,” Thor started. Asshole, Y/N thought, but kept it to herself. “Instead I offer you the chance of a far richer sacrament,” Thor continued with a hint of mystery in his voice. Y/N and Loki were both curious to find out what Thor had in mind. For him to come to Loki must’ve meant it was serious.

“Go on,” Loki encouraged him and then looked at Y/N. They didn’t have to say a word to let each other know they were both interested to hear him out.

Thor felt uncomfortable, but it looked like he had no other choice but to do this. “I know you seek vengeance as much as I do. You help me escape Asgard and I will grant it to you Vengeance and afterward, this cell. You too, Y/N. We could use all the help we can get,” Thor revealed his reasoning behind his visit.

We? So he wasn’t working on this all by himself, which made the case even more interesting than it was before.

Y/N was shocked to hear that. Was Thor, the golden prince, the goody-two-shoes prince going to commit treason? It was almost too good to be true. Y/N and Loki were both surprised and they both knew that the moment they got out of that cell; they would never return.

Yes, Loki was struck by grief, but this opportunity was like music to his ears. He couldn’t hold back a mocking smile as he spoke, “You must be truly desperate to come to me for help.” He found it ironic that the man who put him in this cell was now going to break him out of it. Seeing Thor so desperate was a little amusing, which Loki had to admit.

Turns out Y/N was right, they were getting out of that cell, much sooner than they had expected.

Author’s Note: I hope you liked it! Your feedback would mean the world to me 💚💚💚

[definegodliness]

Petty and stiff-bourgeois

When the internet gets to me with people displaying next-level pettiness and stiff-bourgeois demeanour, I sink back in my chair to remember the pre-internet age. Not because those days were better, hell no, but because it was so much easier to put things into perspective. Nowadays, I’ve noticed that some of the eighteen-forties narratives posted would make me groan like a dog growls when a random person passes the window, soft and prolonged. It got that bad. So I had to find an antidote. And so I think of the times when a brand new national dictionary would come out. Because when a brand new national dictionary came out, you’d shortly after always get a sent in letter in the newspaper.

Now the newspaper and I go way back. I know I was a weird kid for reading them. But I always, and still do, loved the smell of inky paper. Some people like the smell of gasoline, this is my tic. Back in the day I loved its stern black and white aesthetics as well, and I do think newspapers ruined themselves by colour printing, just like churches ruined themselves by adding central heating. Churches should be cold. I’m not even religious, but there can be no discussion. How else will people feel small and humbled? Get your comfort at home, sinner. This place has been surrendered to the elements. The way God intended. Discomfort keeps you on your toes, and so newspapers should be large, printed in black and white, and without those convenient staples in the middle keeping it together, because the truth is large, clumsy, and uncomfortable. 

Truth should stain your fingers.

Those newspapers made me study Journalism, right around the time old media extinguished. During that time, one thing happened that to this day baffles me still. Imagine this: a class of say twenty-five aspiring journalists, asked if they���d rather be sold dry facts or opinions, and all but I preferred to be sold opinions. I argued that one needs the dry facts to shape an opinion, and they all looked at me as if they saw water burning. And I remember the vacant stares when I mentioned I actually liked doing the effort to shape my own opinion. I have rarely felt so alien and misunderstood in my life. What happened to ‘the fly on the wall’? I wondered. The teacher chuckled. 

He was glad ‘we’ still had a purist. 

So that day I decided New-Age Journalism wasn’t for me. And, despite the nostalgia, I gradually stopped reading newspapers, like the rest of the world. Knowing the type of people who’d write what I was consuming of course didn’t help. But in the end I simply stopped reading because the truth had turned convenient, small, biased, and comfortable to whatever your affiliation is. To get a snippet of reality, I had to buy at least four different opinion pushers, which I did, and then puzzle my way toward the golden mean. It became such a chore I found myself solely enjoying the funnies, and, of course, the sent in letters.

When the internet gets to me with people displaying next-level pettiness and stiff-bourgeois demeanour, I think of what once was the rarest and most hilarious breed of human. You see, every time a brand new national dictionary would come out, there’d be sent in letters of people complaining about a myriad of words that our youth and good town folk in all decency should never be allowed to read. Cuss words, of course, but also words as uninspiring and plastic as ‘penis’, ‘vagina’, and ‘bosom’. Not to mention ‘scrotum’, or ‘nipple’. They’d go apeshit over ‘apeshit’, and in displaying their fifty shades of rigid fanaticism they’d become so grim, so helplessly humourless, that of course the contents of their letters became hilarious. 

Boob is not a funny word per se, well, it’s kind of funny, but there is little more absurdistically enjoyable than the word ‘boob’ leaving the pen of a sourpuss in genuine disgust.

There are, and have always been, people so petty and stiff-bourgeois that they’d go through the lengths of buying the latest edition of a dictionary on the first day of publishing to then immediately dedicate hours of their time, locked up in the study to remain undisturbed, executing a self-imposed divine calling. Taking their trusty and angry red pencil to tag, count, and mercilessly comment upon commonly used words. Words sometimes distilled to their driest version, leaving no synonym at all to describe for instance a bodily feature. The entire endeavour demands such tenacity and dedication in maintaining that level of maddened outrage that you cannot convince me there isn’t a moment somewhere halfway the process they’re thinking:

“What am I doing?!”

The must consciously ans repetitively shush that voice of reason. Then, after all that, they manage to go even further. Let’s zoom out for a second to appreciate the absurdity of the situation. Someone who has just finished scouring the dictionary for words deemed immoral, utilising a standard that would put even the most dedicated puritan to shame, now sits behind their desks and takes the time to write an actual handwritten letter utilising their freshly and painstakingly gathered information. Enraged, I reckon, for the red lettered filth by their own hand written. And this is the frame of mind in which they probably read it over a couple of times, checking for spelling mistakes, therefore unable to see the undeniable irony of writing all these words they condemn so deeply, for people all over the country to read. This should be another chance to favour a moment of reflection. However, they are already in too deep, and now can only live with themselves thinking the end justifies the means.

Then there’s the moment when they walk downstairs proudly waving that letter, already in its envelope.

“Debra, I’m gonna tell ‘em!”

And Debra also doesn’t offer a voice of reason. Debra doesn’t even look up from her crossword puzzle and says:

“That’s nice, honey.”

And so they walk on. Toward the mailbox. With a letter of Don Quixote-like insanity that bears their full name and address as a sign of sacred dedication. And even then I reckon they still could be sobered up by the fresh air, experiencing a moment of clarity, actually seeing the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Another chance at self-reflection. And then still, lastly, there is still one moment of possible hesitation and contemplation left, the moment where they slide that letter into the mailbox’s slit and fate is finally out of their hands.

These people exist.

There are around eight decision making moments in this what is the shortest summary of necessary circumstances wherein the windmill chasing self-proclaimed virtuous crusader decides against better judgement. Eight decision making moments in an entire day of living dedicated to removing the word ‘nipple’ from the national dictionary’s latest edition. That was then. And this was when solely the utmost madly bigoted, self-righteous, and oblivious otherworldly specimen of human could seep through the filters of media consumption. Offered a platform for nothing other than editorial shits and giggles. 

Now these people have internet:

Write, post.

Two decision making moments. And when the internet gets to me with narratives belonging to the eighteen-forties, I think of all the like-minded martyrs who in the time of ancient media went through all those steps aforementioned, only to bail out at the very last second of actually dropping off that dumb-ass letter in the mailbox. I think of the time when seven chances at contemplation was enough to save us from a mind-numbing display of mental deterioration. I imagine how vast this stiff-bourgeois crowd gets with every fewer necessary step. When the threshold has been lowered to merely two moments of chanced contemplation and reasoning.

When I sink back in my chair and groan like a dog growls when a random person passes the window, I make myself remember that who we are dealing with are non-threatening, hilarious crazies. Red pencil wielding dictionary condemners who have been shaken free from the threshold of effort. And I think we all tend to forget that. We forget to laugh at them. Laugh at them with all our hearts, shaking our heads simultaneously. We forget we are witnessing rarities. And must not allow ourselves to be cursed into taking the windmill chasers riding under the flag of anonymity seriously. When we forget to laugh at human absurdity, we become part of the joke ourselves. So let’s go out and wield some ‘lol’s and ‘tears of joy’-emojis.

[dawniebb]

We Need to Talk About Evie

but do we though?

OKAY SO.

To the anon who asked if we were making more content, this is it :)

Let’s just say that this was another sort of marathon about the canon divergence universe I share with @healing-winston-pratt ! And this one included two lists, a drawing and a fic :) which is this one. Basically, a “Maggie is Evie” reveal bc I love to hurt myself and other people. I wrote this MONTHS ago :) but still, I hope you like it! <3

For background:

Why is Winston alive and why do Nova and him live with Leroy?

And some other things related to the canon divergence universe, but NOT to this fic:

About Evander’s family

Their portrait: https://healing-winston-pratt.tumblr.com/post/626983013669044224/sandra-obrien-wade-and-arthur-evander-wade

We absolutely don’t need to talk about Evie right now bc we’re having a hard time already, but here we go :)

@novadreamer95438 , @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff there you go! (And @obsidianfr3sk bc I saw your tags about the fics jsjsjs and @jacihayle, but, in both your cases, you haven’t asked to be tagged and we’re doing it in case you wanted to get the notification, hence, if you want to be removed from the tag list, just notify us, that’s totally fine <3 )

They were sitting across the table, and it was super uncomfortable.

Nova thought about a married couple who was about to tell their grown ass child they were getting a divorce, even though the idea of an universe where for some reason Winston and Leroy were the same age and decided to get married absolutely repulsed her.

However, as disgusting as that sounded, that was what they looked like. They were even sitting next to each other, and while Winston tried to smile a bit, Leroy looked dead inside.

Not that he were physically able to look in some other way.

Damn.

She was used to all of this. These situations. These types of scenes.

And yet, she wanted it to be over once and for all. These had been the longest 5 minutes of her life. So long she even had to look at her clock to check how many minutes had passed, because she was almost sure they had been sitting there for at least 15.

But no. 5 minutes.

5 suffocating and eternal minutes.

Finally, Winston sensed and acknowledged this was getting kind of weird and, while straightening his back, he spoke in a fake upbeat voice.

“So… “He said.

Then his tone felt flat and his voice turned into nothing, because it disappeared. Like that. After his first word, he was out of courage again. And he stayed there, with his mouth half-open.

But Nova couldn’t tolerate this any longer, so this time she took (or at least tried to) the lead.

“So?” She asked with a determinate, almost demanding tone. “I was kinda in the middle of something, so… if you guys could…you know, tell me what did you call me for?”

Technically, she wasn’t lying. She was in the middle of something. It wasn’t work-related, but still it was something.

Nova tended to take her inventions, her personal projects, pretty seriously and Winston and Leroy were more than aware of that, and since she knew that, she found it very rude of them to interrupt her; to take her out of her zone so they could all sit around the table in an awkward and tense silence, listening to the sound of their own breaths. That is, she wasn’t usually this this harsh towards them, but they had managed to put her in a bad mood.

“Yeah. Sure. Of course you wanna know what is it that we called you for.” Winston sniffed, lacing his fingers together on the table. He looked…no, he acted nervous.

Nova didn’t know what he was about to say or what they were trying to tell her, but she was sure as hell that, after this, Winston would have to talk to his therapist, as he was continuously clearing his throat to stop his fake high-pitched tone from coming out instead of his real voice.

“We need to talk.” He concluded.

Nova snorted, while Leroy rubbed his face so hard she could see the trace of his hand on his own skin…As if he were helping much to the situa…

“Goddamn. Don’t do that. It’s not like you’re being too helpful.”

Thank you.

“I know.” Leroy said in a monotonous tone. “However…”

“No. Please. Just stop. I’m shaking and you’re just making it worse. If you’re not gonna do anything to help then stop grimacing at me or get the fuck out.”

“Man.”

“You act like an old, adult-sized, grumpy toddler. Grow up.”

Nova bit her lip, trying to convince herself this wasn’t funny, even though it was. In the past, being aware Winston was mad would’ve been extremely scary (The fact he was kind to her didn’t mean he could be underestimated. Winston had easily been the most dangerous Anarchist after Ace and Ingrid) but right now it was just…this. He could have a bad temper if he put his mind into it, though he would move on after like 30 minutes or so.

And Leroy knew that too, so he didn’t get offended.

That, and the fact that it was extremely hard to make Leroy feel offended.

Winston closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to get his chill back and align his freaking chakras.

Nova hissed. She had had this idea for a couple of minutes now, but she decided that it was the time to spit it out because, besides being eager to go back to the basement, she could feel the stress levels were getting out of control and they were at the point where they soon would start killing each other.

“If this is about The Talk.” Nova said, and once their attention was back at her, she repeated, air quoting:

“The Talk.”

“We know what you’re referring to.” Leroy nodded.

“Yeah. So…there’s no need for that.” She assured. “I already know about that stuff. Honey gave me a really graphic lecture back in the day and, not to offend you guys, but I’m not sure I want to go through that again. I appreciate the intention, but…”

“It’s not about that.” Leroy said. Cold, almost like he wanted her to shut up. Nova knew there was no use in feeling attacked or bad because that was the way Leroy usually spoke to everyone. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge in her stomach. In Leroy’s mind, from what she had heard, seen and experienced, she didn’t fit in the everyone category.

“Oh.” She gulped. “What is it, then?”

Leroy stared at her, Nova stared at Winston when Leroy’s stare was too heavy, and Winston stared at Leroy too.

So good ol’ Cyanide had no other option but to open his mouth again.

“We need to talk about Evie.”

And the world went numb. Her world. Her entire, little, shattered world.

And even though everything around it was in flames, Nova’s body, which held her little world, felt frozen. She was made of ice.

And she felt extremely cold.

She looked at both Winston and Leroy with all the hatred she was yet to dispose; all the resentment she still carried within; all the pain that still ate from her insides from now and then; until she realized she had skipped at least 5 seconds breath, and her legs responded, helping her up from the chair almost against her will.

They had no right.

They weren’t allowed to mention that. Not yet.

Not when they knew she was yet to heal.

Not when they knew they were ripping open an old, painful scar.

“No, we don’t.” She stated directly. “The only person I’ll talk to about that at the moment is my therapist and if you don’t like it it’s not my obligation to apologize. You’ll have to deal with that. You’re grown ass men.”

This time it was Winston’s turn to rub his face until there has a hand-shaped red line all the way through it.

“Wow, you fucking genius.” He barked at Leroy. “So sensitive and subtle, as al—“

“YOU’RE GROWN ASS MEN!” Nova slammed the table, feeling so furious she didn’t even find the time to cry.

Mostly because didn’t feel like crying.

Instead, she felt like screaming in a pillow until her throat bled.

“HEY! FINE, FINE! CALM DOWN!” Winston reached for her hand, grabbing her by the wrists. “CALM DOWN, YOU’LL HURT YOUR HANDS!”

She stopped. Not because she was more calm, but because Winston looked genuinely worried and she couldn’t help but feel…something.

Nova breathed like an enraged bull until her lungs ached and Winston’s gaze felt bigger than her, along with his hold.

Just like when she was little, during stormy nights.

Winston and Leroy were always the best at calming her down. And even now, no matter how hard she tried, every time they did stuff like this she went numb. A weird type of numb.

A good type of numb.

“Good.” Winston sighed. “Would you mind to sit down?”

She did it, as her body suddenly felt heavy as a rock; her body touched the chair again, and she shivered but tried to act normal.

“I’m sorry.” Leroy said in a hoarse voice. And even if she expected something more, that something never came, but Nova understood anyways.

Still, she didn’t find the strength to answer.

Winston rubbed his hands against each other and gently pushed his glass of water across the table towards her, but although her throat was dry, she refused to drink from it. She still had something called pride.

“What do you want?” She asked coldly.

“Nova, look…”

“What do you want?” She asked again, annoyed. “Do you want to know about how I left her to die?”

Winston shut his eyes closed as if he had received a really painful punch, and he scratched his forehead.

“What do you want from me? What do you want to know?” Nova begged from them to answer. “Please. I don’t know what do you want or why do you want it but let’s just…get this over with.”

“We don’t want anything from you.” Leroy started, this time in a less hurtful and soulless tone. “We’ve already caused you too much harm all over the years and we’re trying to make it up to you. Hence, I apologize for broaching the subject in such a sudden and violent way.”

Nova’s lips trembled, just like her hands.

“Fine.” She said.

Just…fine.

Nothing else to say.

Not at the moment, at least.

“And I apologize in advance for having to bring this up in the first place.” Winston licked his lips and cleared his throat. Again. “We even consulted your doctor and everything and, needless to say, we were advised not to act like asses about it. But somebody did anyway so…”

“You’ve thrown so many bricks at me I could build a wall with them, Winston. Thanks for your cooperation.”

“You’re welcome, you insensitive piece of shit.”

As fast as he directed his attention to Leroy, he directed it to Nova again, who just sniffed, blinded by rage.

“You talked to my doctor.” She said. Not as a question, but rather as a statement.

Because that’s what it was, and she wasn’t going to apologize for that either.

“We did.” Winston nodded. “Remember that she provided us with her contact and stuff, in case you…”

“I know.” Nova massaged her temples. “I know.”

“She didn’t provide any confidential information, nor did she give us any type of sensitive details about your sessions.” Leroy assured. “So there’s no need for you to be…worried about that.”

She wasn’t worried about that. She trusted them enough, even if sometimes she wasn’t willing to admit it. At least, she trusted them enough to know that, if someday her therapist saw herself in the necessity to tell them something, anything about what happened during the appointments, she wouldn’t be mad.

Not too much, at least.

But this was just too out of character even for them. And, not to sound harsh, but she would’ve expected it from someone like Hugh. Not them. Not Winston and Leroy.

“I’m not.” She said, trying to remain in a neutral tone. “So…please, please just tell me what’s this issue that’s so delicate you had to talk to my therapist before talking to me.”

They stared to each other for a second, before Leroy handed the folder he’d been keeping under his arm to Winston; the one she hadn’t paid too much attention to, as she thought it was…normal paperwork stuff.

Winston didn’t hand it to Nova. Instead, he put it on the table and placed both his hands on top of it.

“So. You’ve been told about and even helped with the updates to the Renegades system.” Winston said. High-pitched.

“Correct.” Nova’s eyelid was twitching.

“And…well, you know, since you are…a Renegade.” Winston coughed. “They had to take DNA samples from you to…”

“Upload it to the system. Let’s skip that part. I know it.” Nova rolled her eyes. She had no idea why they were going around the topic so much. “I’m the one they took samples from. I had to sign for permission. There’s no need to explain something I did. “

“Okay, okay. I’m…I’m sorry. You’re right.” Winston sniffed. “But…we need to mention it because…well…”

“They took samples from all the current Renegade recruits:  Members of the Council, patrol units, the janitorial team, the Headquarters staff…” Leroy took a deep breath. “….Winston and I had been suspicious about this for a while but still…”

“Still, we didn’t know.” Winston nodded. “….Gosh. This is going to be fucking hard.”

Nova crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s going to be hard?” She laughed sarcastically. “And what does Evie even have to do with this? What is this all about?”

When they just looked at her, she thought she might have been missing something. Or failing to catch something in that case. Not that she cared at this point.

“Nova. The thing is that…” Winston took a deep breath. “We…”

A nervous laugh escaped his mouth, while Leroy played with the fabric of the tablecloth, absently.

“We…uhm…” He gulped. “We got…a match.”

She heard and comprehended the structure of the sentence, but it didn’t make sense at all in her head. So, the best answer she could think of was:

“A match of what?” in a harsh tone, arching her eyebrow as she tilted her head to the side.

“What the fuck are you two talking about?”

Winston hissed, and Leroy cleared his throat.

“A match, Nova.” Leroy clarified.

And after remaining in silence for at least three seconds, he spoke again, just because Winston refused to do it.

“A DNA that matches yours. And that, comparing it to the samples they took from Evie when she was born…it…uhm….also matches hers.”

She heard the words through a blank noise that invaded her ears. Deafening.

She felt the hot tears creating a vessel through her vision, as her arms tightened around her chest. And somehow, the answer was still clear as water.

“That’s bullshit.” She declared. “Those tests are wrong because the Renegades are still negligent as fuck. So that’s pure bullshit. That’s pure and utter…”

“Nova…”

“I was there the day she died and I could’ve saved her but I didn’t so she fucking died.” She stated, calm. “That’s the way things are. That’s what happened. That’s what…”

“Nova.”

“Nova. Listen.” Leroy stared directly at her eyes.

And this time he looked absolutely destroyed, so she listened.

For once.

“Her name’s Margaret White.” He said, slowly. “That’s Evie. That’s your sister.”

Her heartbeat turned into a drum, beating so fast it made her whole body ache. She turned into a car about to crash against a fence. A rollercoaster. A train wreck. A hurricane about to happen. And above all that noise, all she could hear were the bullets; all she could touch was Evie’s soft baby skin; all she could feel was the apartment’s floor beneath her bare feet; all she could smell was her mother’s blood above her brow; all she could remember was Magpie’s face.

All she could recognize was the bullet she carried around in her pocket.

All she could remember was how that kid had stolen her bracelet. Twice.

How she stared at her so full of disdain, directing a different type of sneer at her every single time; so resented with everyone, even with herself people she didn’t know.

Magpie, that Magpie, was the little baby Nova had mourned for more than half of the years she had been alive.

Magpie, who hated her and everyone else.

“Oh, Nova…” Winston tried to reach for her hand, but Nova slapped his’ away as hard as she could, careful not to release her power on him, just because she wanted to confront both of them.

“That’s bullshit.” She repeated, frantic. “It can’t be true.”

All she’d done.

“It can’t be true. Those papers are wrong.”

All she’d suffered.

“It’s not true.”

All she’d risked to avenge her sister.

“You’re lying.” She said, tears streaming down her face, begging they were lying.

All she’d done and risked…just for her beloved little sister to be alive.

Her chest went up and down, violently, as she covered her ears to avoid hearing their voices.

“NO!” She screeched, getting up from her chair. “YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE LYING! YOU ALL ARE NOTHING BUT…!”

“NOVA, PLEASE, CALM DOWN!”

She slammed her fist on the table once again, as she felt her whole body losing control. Shaking. Shivering. Trembling.

Crumbling apart along with her life.

Her lie of a life.

Her little sad world full of lies and grief.

And now grief was also a lie.

“YOU’RE FUCKING LYING!”

Couldn’t it had been, at least, somebody that loved her?

-.-

By the time the healer was gone, Simon finally noticed the little wounds in Winston’s hands. He also had bitten his nails until he reached his skin and it started to bleed.

And his face was soaked.

And that, even if it was odd to admit it, broke his heart. He was absolutely distraught, just like Leroy, even though Leroy was handling it way better.

If Simon hadn’t been through this many times, he probably would’ve reacted the same as Winston.

“Is she…?”

“Yeah. She’ll be fine.” Hugh cleared his throat.

It had happened so fast they didn’t even have time to put on their uniforms. They were here, with regular clothes, just because Leroy and Winston hadn’t figured who else to call.

“The healer gave her some sedatives. It’ll take a couple of minutes, but she’ll…she’ll be fine.” Hugh said, to which Winston hiccupped and nodded, even if he wasn’t crying anymore.

Leroy showed no reaction. He was staring at a blank space in the nearest wall.

“We figured …maybe you don’t consider it adequate that Adrian spends the night here, so…he already notified the rest of the team members and Tucker volunteered. You…know her, right?”

“We do.” Winston said in a hoarse voice. “The…girl with this… grappling hook, right? Ruby.”

“Err… not quite a grappling hook but yeah. That’s her.”

Oh my god, Hugh.

Later Simon would lecture him about how it was non polite to be this dense.

Right now, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the scene that could be seen through the ajar bedroom door.

Nova was kneeling on the carpet while Adrian hugged her from the back, covering her body with his’.

You’re lying.

You’re lying.

You’re lying.

That’s what she said. On loop.

And Stars, Simon wished they were.

[brokutosan]

Title. How Do You Mend When You’re Worlds Apart? (We Carry On)

Pairing. Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem!Reader

Summary. In which long distance is hard. Inspired by the song ‘Make It Better’ by Anderson Paak.

Warnings. Pure angst, also doesn’t have much dialogue. Manga spoilers up to the latest chapters and strong language included. Title is a line from the song ‘Make It Better’ by Anderson Paak.

In highschool, Iwaizumi and Y/N were inseparable. Wherever one is, chances are the other is nearby. They were the perfect model couple, proof that highschool sweethearts aren’t always doomed to be just that. Maybe it’s because both were equally mature, or maybe it’s because of the fact that the two of them kept Oikawa on a leash, but anything the world threw at them, the two felt ready for it.

So when Iwaizumi decided to purue his dreams across the ocean, she was fine with it. And so were all of their friends. If anyone could handle long distance, it would be Iwaizumi and Y/N. Because they were Iwaizumi and Y/N, and Iwaizumi and Y/N were inseparable.

Turns out putting an entire ocean between an inseparable couple could, in fact, separate them. Iwaizumi and Y/N became Iwaizumi, student at UC Irvine, and Y/N, student at Tokyo University. The distance between them grew harder to ignore over time.

It wasn’t something that happened overnight. And to be fair, they lasted a good three years making it work before going down the hell hole of late night (or morning, for one of them) arguments and distrust clouding their judgements. After a while, the two realize that the distance has taken its toll on them. Y/N thinks that it’s because they’re too used to being around each other, but now that they’re not, they’ve become more sensitive to even the tiniest matters. Iwaizumi thinks it’s all just bad communication.

Either way, anyone could tell that they’re only uselessly holding onto something that’s very clearly broken. Perhaps it’s the fact that they’ve already put in over six years into their relationship, and that giving it up now would mean giving up those six long years together. And no one wants to be the one that says, “Yeah, I wasted six long years with an idiot only for it to all go down the drain.”

Y/N first realizes this was the case after a night of drinking with her college classmates. She definitely had too much alcohol in her system that night, but she’s always been the type to be hyper aware of her surroundings. She wasn’t the type to do something she knows she would regret the morning after.

Her first explosive fight with Iwaizumi happens a few hours after she drunk herself under the table, at around three in the morning (or dinner time for Iwaizumi). Y/N made sure to be responsible enough to get herself home safe, under her own sheets, but Iwaizumi thought different. Y/N spent the following hours until her first class to explain to her enraged boyfriend that no, that woman in the background of Takahiro’s snapchat story sucking some douchebag’s face off isn’t me!

The months that follow that catalystic event were spent like they were walking through a minefield, any small argument setting off a bigger one that usually ended in tears. At one point Y/N was nearly tempted to throw her phone out the window and completely cut off connections with Iwaizumi, but knowing him, he’d probably catch the first flight back home just to chew her ear off.

What seems to be the worst fact of it all is that they were never like that in the beginning. But at this point there’s no more going back. It’s like they’re stuck in a burning car, but they don’t want to jump out. They’re only options are to just try and put out the flames or wait for the car to crash and burn.

Today is no different.

Y/N is invited by her old highschool friends, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, to go out for drinks. Y/N complies because no one would refuse a free dinner and drinks. But as she steps out her apartment, dressed casually enough but still putting in a little effort in her appearance, Y/N receives a facetime call from none other than Iwaizumi himself, who looks more pissed off than usual.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asks as she notices his frown, genuinely concerned.

“Are you going somewhere?” Iwaizumi evades the question. Oh well. She expected this. Y/N has known her boyfriend long enough to know that there really is something wrong, he’s just too pissy to admit it.

“Yeah. With Takahiro and Issei.” She replies curtly, grabbing her purse and house keys from the side table and unlocking the door. Iwaizumi freezes, not saying anything. Y/N almosts hangs up thinking it’s due to poor connection, until he speaks up again.

“Oh. Nevermind then.” What the fuck? Y/N thinks to herself, though has half the mind to know not to say it out loud. Instead she says, “If there’s something bothering you, just tell me. Hiro and Issei can wait.” Her offer is met by another few seconds of silence, before Iwaizumi sighs and says, “No, it’s fine. Have fun. Stay safe.” The - once usual - ‘I love you’ is lost somewhere, probably amidst his pride and whatever the fuck was bothering him.

As he ends the call, Y/N decides to press any further. Lately she’s realized that the best way to prevent arguments with him was to just ignore the things bothering her. Destructive? Definitely. But is it effective? One hundred percent. Y/N argues that it’s the lesser of two evils, and if one of those evils is a furious Iwaizumi, then she’d rather take her chances with whatever’s the other option.

The whole commute to the izakaya she agreed to meet her friends in is filled with a mental dilemma of whether or not she should call him back. And she stays that way ‘til she gets to the place and Matsukawa, the attentive bastard, is asking her, “Why do you look like shit?”

“Damn, you really hate the thought of seeing us that much?” Hanamaki adds on, because Hanamaki and Matsukawa come in pair and when one is teasing you, then chances are the other one is too.

“Kinda regretting it now. Is it too late to turn back?” Y/N jokes, but is only ushered over by her two smirking friends. Y/N, despite her contempt, complies and sits down on one end of the booth.

“You can’t run away from us. Like you physically can’t. You love us too much.” And she hates how much she knows he’s right, but she’s not telling them that because they’ll never let her live it down.

“Disgusting. Someone kill me right now.” Y/N fake gags, smiling at the waiter as he passes by with a weird look on his face. Hanamaki and Matsukawa laugh, before Hanamaki’s face straightens into a serious look.

“Oh yeah, did Iwaizumi tell ‘ya yet?” He mentions nonchalantly. Y/N wants to say, ‘no, because talking to that moron only makes my head hurt,’ but she doesn’t, mostly because they’d probably obsessively worry over it. Instead she says, “Tell me what?”

They share a look.

“Wait, seriously? I thought you’d be the first to know.” It’s Matsukawa that speaks up first, with a bewildered look on his face. “I mean no offense but aren’t you two usually the lovey dovey jackasses that can’t keep secrets from each other?”

“Yeah. I’m still not over you telling him about my Hatsune Miku shrine.” Hanamaki adds, though it’s unappreciated by Matsukawa, who throws him a dirty look and a, “What the fuck, man. Stop bringing that shit up.” Hanamaki looks at his friend with ‘hurt’ laced in his face before firing back, “Stop disrespecting my wife, asshole!”

“Are you two done?”

The two supposed grown men halt their little ‘back-and-forth,’ and Hanamaki perks up again remembering the previous topic at hand.

“Oh yeah! So Iwaizumi really didn’t tell you?” She could only shake her head ‘no,’ taking a sip of the mediocre beer in her hands. She makes a mental note to remind herself never to let Hanamaki pick which izakaya they’re going to.

“You’re both pissing me off, what did he not tell me?” Y/N grumbles, growing impatient. It could just be because the beer is far too stale for her taste. Why is this place still open?

“Apparently Oikawa went to visit him two days ago and the two idiots had a big fight. I heard it almost got physical this time.” So that’s wny he looked so pissed off earlier. Lately the only facial features he’s shown her are anger and discontent, so maybe she thought nothing of it when he did it again just an hour ago. She feels horrible, but not too much.

“Something about Oikawa not taking his bad knee seriously enough. Honestly I think Iwaizumi got mad because he’s been studying about it for three years now.” Hanamaki adds, raising his glass to ask for another cup of beer. Y/N doesn’t care as much anymore about the shitty beer, but she still gives him a weird look for being so into it.

“Oh.” Arguments be damned, Y/N still had to save face. If anyone were proud supporters of her and Iwaizumi’s relationship, it’s these two idiots arguing over a meme on Hanamaki’s phone right across the table. She racks her brain for any plausible excuse as to why she wasn’t made aware of something this big, but her mind drew a blank.

“It is kinda weird you weren’t the first to find out. Granted we had to find out from Oikawa, but if anything I was sure Iwaizumi would’ve already went crying to you.” Hanamaki muses. Oh no. Y/N knows that tone, and when Hanamaki, of all people, uses it...then she’s thoroughly fucked.

“Is there something you’re not telling us?” Matsukawa completes. Y/N tries not to laugh at the fact that they still try to complete each other’s sentences, despite the fact that they were just arguing about which Spongebob meme is better just a few seconds ago.

“Nothing, really. I haven’t really gotten the chance to check in on Hajime, with exams and all.” Y/N lies through her teeth. They were just arguing three days ago about something Y/N can’t even remember now.

“Uh huh, sure. Let me know when you pull your head out of your ass.” Hanamaki retorts. Y/N resists the urge to reach over the table and wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

“Shut up, blondie.”

“Uh, that’s strawberry blondie to you.”

“You’re both completely going off topic. Y/N, why didn’t Iwaizumi tell you anything?” Matsukawa leans over the table, wearing that unreadable facial expression he used to wear back in highschool, during a match, going up for a block. Y/N momentarily thinks how fortunate she is for not being one of those they’ve went against in highschool.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Hajime that?”

“We should, but he’s not here right now. You are. I mean you two were always like two halves of one whole, right?” Hanamaki presses on, forgetting all about their previous argument. She lets his words settle in. Two halves of one whole, huh? Suddenly Y/N is brought back to one of their most recent arguments. About their future together. Or lack of one.

Y/N looks down at her stale mug of beer, feeling hypnotized by the amber color that’s reflecting her face with a look of concern. Though she has no reason to be. Ever since getting into a relationship with Hajime, and faling into the same crowd, most conversations around her usually revolved around the topic of their relationship. It never bothered her before, so why is it bothering her now?

And it hits her. Not as a life changing revelation, but rather something she’s always known deep, deep, deep down.

That just like how she’s been needlessly obsessing over the horrible tasting beer, she’s been needlessly clinging onto something that’s not there anymore. Just like how despite this izakaya being their usual meeting place whenever they found the time to hang out, the beer tasted different today, of all days. Just like how now, Y/N finally snaps herself awake and completely understand that her and Iwaizumi, just aren’t in love anymore.

They tried, the past few months filled with arguments being a testament to how they fought tooth and nail to salvage what’s left of a bygone feeling.

Right. The argument. Three weeks ago, Iwaizumi had called her a few hours past midnight in Tokyo, excited to reveal that “Yes! I’m going to start my internship with Takashi Utsui right after graduation!” And instead of being excited for him too, Y/N picked a fight. That one was totally her fault, she admits. She pressed him on the importance of their relationship, on the importance of distance, and how the one between them is slowly eating them alive. Iwaizumi cut off communication with her for a week, before Y/N finally apologized only for them to be amidst another argument now, just two weeks later.

Y/N realizes she’s been quiet for too long, when the noise of the izakaya draws back in and she’s rudely brought back to her senses by an annoyed Matsukawa snapping his fingers in front of her face. “Are you okay?”

The question lets loose an abundance of emotions, some she can’t quite put a finger on, but she knows is bothering her. It’s been too long since someone checked in on her like that, so genuinely. So concerned. Oh god. Was she turning into a touch starved idiot like Oikawa?

“Uh, I - I don’t know.” Is her pathetic response. The two men in front of her share another look, before Hanamaki simply sighs, “We’ll drop it, sorry. You can talk when you’re ready.”

And as if a switch has been flipped, they fall into a smoother conversation, one about school and their social lives. How Hanamaki heard that Yahaba and Kyoutani went to New York together for God knows why, and how Kindaichi’s finally starting for his Division 2 team. Y/N, on the other hand, can’t seem to focus. Perhaps it’s the thing she was thinking about earlier. Okay. It’s definitely that.

Eagerly, Y/N shoots up and slings her bag over her shoulders, muttering, “Sorry, I have to go.”

“Pay for your drinks, cheapass!” Hanamaki half-jokingly calls out, also standing up. Matsukawa grabs his wrist, seemingly understanding something and leaving the strawberry blonde out of the loop.

“Don’t. I think this might just be serious.”

-

Upon stepping back into the comfort of her room, Y/N turns on her phone, fingers hovering just above the call button. She was so sure of it before, at the izakaya, but now that she’s had time to think, she doesn’t know what to say.

Wait - no, she’s breaking up with him. That’s for sure. She’s not exactly confident she could take another second being in ticking time bomb of a relationship, but how does she even begin the conversation? Iwaizumi was her first everything, and that might just include first break up. How do people even do this? She feels like she’s about to rip the guy’s heart out of his chest, and that’s not something she could live with.

Fuck it, Y/N thinks to herself as she presses the call button. Iwaizumi picks up after three rings, voice grumpy as ever. “Yeah?” Now Y/N feels like a bitch for doing this over a phone call. But it’s not like she could book a flight to California with the money she doesn’t exactly have, just to break up with her boyfriend of six years. So she improvises.

“Can you get on Skype?”

She hears rustling on the other end of the call, and the telltale sound of a zipper being unzipped. “Sure.”

A few moments later, she’s connected to the call, and now that she’s looking directly at Iwaizumi’s face through her laptop screen, does Y/N finally realize what she’s about to do. Before the guilt could even start to settle in, Iwaizumi opens his mouth and starts the conversation.

“I thought you were going out.” He states, face still scrunched up into that nasty scowl from earlier. Knowing the reason behind it, a fight with his best friend, Y/N isn’t as bothered by it. Okay maybe it’s bothering her. Dumping him while he’s down? She didn’t even know she was capable of something so heinous.

“I was out. I just got back home though.”

“Oh.” He looks like he wants to press further, but something’s holding him back. The same something that’s been causing him to lash out for the past few months. Y/N doesn’t miss the conflicted look on his face, nor does she miss the sigh that he lets out. Good. He’s just as exhausted as she is. Might make this a whole lot easier.

“Is there a reason why you wanted to call?” He offers an olive branch first, and Y/N happily accepts it. “Yeah, actually, there is.” She gulps, probably hard enough for him to hear, but her nerves are starting to get the best of her.

He stares at the camera, probably waiting for her to go on, then. Well, jokes on him. Y/N’s waiting too. Waiting for her to gather enough figurative balls to say what needs to be said.

“Um - okay, so,” Y/N starts, very lamely, “it’s about us.” Iwaizumi looks like he’s about to say something, but Y/N is quick to interject, “Wait! Let me just let it all out. Before I go completely crazy. And then you can talk. Yell. Curse, whatever you feel like doing after I say what I’m about to say.”

“I’m not gonna do any of that.”

“Okay. Good. Because I might cry if you do. And if I cry then I definitely won’t get to say what needs to be said.” Y/N is speaking out of her ass, that much she could tell. She could also tell he’s losing his patience, which she doesn’t totally blame him for.

“I think I know where this is going. You can say it.” Iwaizumi sounds a lot calmer, which is good, because Y/N doesn’t really know how she’d take it if he wasn’t. And then she looks down, fiddling with her fingers on her lap and the ring on her pinky finger that Iwaizumi gave to her before leaving for college.

And then Y/N decides to rip the bandage off, “I think we should break up.”

A sigh.

Not exactly her first choice of a reaction, but she’d take a sigh over a full blown confrontation any day. In fact, she’s probably a little too relieved that that was his first reaction. Means he’s thought about it too, and that she’s not the only one feeling guilty about all this.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N finds herself saying, still not daring to look up into the computer screen. She realizes how ironic it is that the calmest conversation they’ve had in months is when they’re about to break up.

“Don’t be. It’s both our faults.” He reassures her. And she finally looks up, catching her reflection on the webcam and how her eyes are slightly red and watery. (But so are his).

“Trust me I know,” Y/N finds the strength to force out a bitter laugh, and adds, “but I just...am. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work. I really wanted it to work.”

“So did I.” Iwaizumi offers a bittersweet smile, reminding her that this probably hurts for him just as much as it did for her. “But we couldn’t. And that’s on both of us. Don’t feel the need to take all the blame.”

“God, Oikawa’s gonna fucking lose it. He rooted for us so hard.” Y/N lets out a genuine laugh, remembering her chocolate haired friend that’s probably going to cry harder than they do combined. And then silence engulfs them. Conversation that used to flow so smoothly between them long gone, and the connection they had as lovers severed.

“Um, I’ll catch up with you soon. Take it easy okay?” Iwaizumi finally speaks up, probably sick of the silence. “Yeah, sure. Talk to you soon.” Except she doesn’t. In fact, the next time Y/N hears from Iwaizumi is at his welcome home party, two years later. And by then they’ve both probably moved on (she can’t really speak for Iwaizumi), to bigger and better things, and hopefully to other people.

-

“And it’s easier to walk away, than to look for what would make you stay.” - Anderson Paak.

A/N. Reposted because I wanted to edit it a bit. An izakaya is basically a traditional Japanese bar! Ending is a bit rushed, but I kinda just wanted to finish it on a slightly bittersweet note?? Thank you for reading tho, I’m gonna go cry now :) - chuu

[alirhi]

If I wrote Loki pt 5

(Missed one? Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4)

Woo. Coming up on the end. It's been so hard to keep the same stupid storyline and just give Loki a bigger part to play (in his own motherfucking show) rather than just rewriting the whole bloody thing, but it's almost done! And trust me, guys, this has been deliberate (and painful), not a sign of lacking creativity. If I'd really written this thing, there would be no Mobius, no Sylvie, no TVA. It would have been properly about Loki and would not just be a six-hour commercial for the multiverse. Of course, it almost definitely would have also involved Loki in a poly relationship with Sigyn and Bucky if I was allowed to truly run wild 😂 so I'm not saying I'm perfect lmao

Alright. Let's get on with this, shall we?

Episode 5! Almost done! We start with the TVA side of things. Mobius is struggling to calm the other agents and keep them from killing anyone else, not an easy task when enraged, grief-stricken Sigyn is trying to kill them all. He manages to get close to her just long enough to whisper He's not dead; not yet. He slips a Tempad into her hand, winks, and then steals a weapon and prunes her. Happy now? he grumbles at his coworkers, tossing the thing (seriously, what were those called? I keep wanting to call it a melty stick, but this show isn't worthy of a Grandmaster reference XD) back to the stunned agent he'd stolen it from. We have the psycho Variant. Job well done, right? Let's get her processed.

So much for friendship, Sylvie growls at him, horrified by how casually he just murdered Sigyn. I never said I was their friend, Mobius points out, though there's a quick flash of fear and regret as he glances back at the spot where Sigyn once stood. He doesn't know her well enough to care how things go for her, but he's praying she can help Loki. There was no way he could have sent Sylvie; she's feral, she doesn't trust anyone and can't be trusted, and there's no way she and Loki can work together.

Cut to Loki appearing in the pruned dimension. Again, can't remember if it had a name. I only watched these episodes once each, which was more than enough 🤮

Anyway, he doesn't fall out of nowhere; the orange sparks that he disintegrated into on the other side are what come together to recreate him here. He meets a few other Lokis; at least two of them are his age and blue. One is wearing Jotun clothes, and he smirks at OG Loki's look of surprise. "I went straight to Jotunheim after killing Laufey. I only had my throne for a few moments before those wretched TVA people showed up, but it was still mine."

"Did it make you happy?" Loki asks, a tired, resigned smile on his face. He knows the answer before King Loki says anything, and only smiles a bit wider when he says "No. I never wanted any throne." Loki nods and picks up King Loki's train of thought: "Only ever wanted to be seen and valued. But the only thing the house of Odin values is power." They take him to the underground bunker.

His interactions with the other Lokis aren't played for laughs. There's some lighthearted stuff (I'd keep Croki and his reaction to him, because that was genuinely funny) but mostly Loki meeting other Loki variants (several of them female and no one bats an eye) is to show that he was never evil. Self-serving and a little weaselly at times, especially when he was younger, but not evil. King Loki is horrified that OG Loki tried to destroy Jotunheim. OG Loki, in turn, can't even look at Feral Loki who never deluded himself into thinking Odin would ever love him and ran away as a child. Like Old Loki, he kept himself hidden for years before he got lonely and sloppy and the TVA found him.

Each new story more heartbreaking than the last; each new Loki variant reveals more of the horrors they've suffered in service of the TVA's "sacred timeline" before being sent to this place to die. But Lokis don't die; they fight, and they survive. They're all tired. They're all a bit broken. A few have had idle passing thoughts of finding a way out, a way home, but what would be the point? After all, they'd only be sent back again. Princess Loki quietly illustrates this point by revealing that she did get out, once. She ran to her husband and wife - Baldur and Nanna; she loved Sigyn, every Loki who's ever met Sigyn has loved her, but like many of them, she never had the courage to tell her, so she latched onto the pair who would have her - and they didn't recognize her. Their connection had been erased, and her once-partners only knew her as the Trickster who'd once almost gotten Baldur killed. She was captured and sent back to this wretched place, and with nothing left to hold onto on the other side, stayed.

"Then there is a way out," is OG Loki's takeaway. He remembers the prank that had nearly killed Baldur, and he cringes a little, but quickly moves on. He needs to get out, get home. "Where is 'home', Loki?" King Loki challenges him, and that makes him pause. He'd only learned about his Jotun heritage a year ago, Asgard was slated to be eradicated... "Sigyn," he murmurs. "Sigyn is home."

"Then I suppose this is home now." Loki spins to face the source of the snarky voice behind him, and throws his arms around Sigyn, overwhelmed with joy to see her. One of the other Lokis had found her and brought her to the bunker, and all the Lokis are staring at her, missing their own connections with her, but this isn't their Sigyn, so they stay away. She smiles and backs up, holding out the Tempad. "Or we can find a new home."

He takes it, and glances at the others. "Our greatest failing is that we've always done everything alone. Look where that's brought us - all of us, no matter what path we try to take, we're all here." One of them points out that the TVA is why they're there, and he nods. "That's my point. Alone, not one of us can stop them. Our sister tried, and I brought her into their clutches." He points to Princess Loki. "She tried to escape them, but they made sure she was alone. This is not my fate. I refuse. If I can't count on myself, well..." A mocking smirk at his other "selves" turns into a fond, nervous smile as he turns to Sigyn. "I suppose I'd better start counting on someone else for help."

"There is not a single Loki that's ever existed who wouldn't die for that woman," King Loki points out, giving Sigyn a shy smile. She laughs, blushes, and turns to OG Loki, who only shrugs and nods with a sheepish smile of his own. "We can address that later," she assures him. "For now, what's the plan, Loki?"

"If Sylvie can enchant, so can I. We're twins." He grins, putting the Tempad away. "That's a handy failsafe, but I'd like to be done running. I say we enchant the guard dog outside and find out what it's guarding."

Meanwhile, Mobius and Sylvie (I'd be happy to forget about them both, but y'all like them, so...) are discovering the truth behind the "Time keepers". Finding out the whole thing was a sham, Mobius is 100% done. He and Sylvie work together to remind as many agents as they can who they once were, trying to dismantle the TVA from within. While the small army of Lokis (and the beautiful Sigyn ❤) march right up to the hungry murder cloud, Mobius and Sylvie wake up as many variants-turned-agents as they can.

Episode 6 (season 1 finale)

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #1

1. The backbone to my emotions

As someone who  cannot conceptualise  time in any way whatsoever, I want to say sorry to my loved ones. I'm aware I still need to send my friends messages every once in a while and remind them I still want to be their friends and I need to actively work on this. I need to overcome this fear stopping me from being present and accepting peoples love and support. I want to break free from me and I want to feel content being on this earth, I want nothing more than to enjoy experiences with my loved ones. I love you I love you.

I am a young charismatic, creative individual learning to do things differently so I don't always have the same outcomes. I suffer from a Cluster B Personality Disorder; under the same umbrella of mental health I also experience extremely intrusive thoughts on a daily basis, that can become obsessive and compulsively hyper fixated thoughts in an instant. I have anxiety, depression and a lot of the time I’m deeply dissociated to a point where I struggle to believe I’m even real, even when I do know I am real- I have no attachment to my limbs or body as a whole and only feel alive in a spiritual sense or when I self harm. I don't want to get too into my illnesses; as I’m not someone who really likes labels, just know that everyday is a battle and each personality that exists within me is different. I wouldn't say drastically, however its evident for me and living with so many different masks can be intense. Especially when you've tried to convince people that you're just one solid mould in the hopes they don't perceive you as an intense person. I am going to try to take you through a few of my altars and moods starting with the emptiest subconscious alters that I call the backbones of my emotions to the more powerful  energetic ones that haven't managed to yet consume me over the years. I hope this can give people an insight.

Overall I present a pretty confident front, I like to appear like I’ve got my life together even though I’m so far from it, sometimes I’m not sure ill even find the strength to go on long enough in attempt to get my life together, which is a real problem but it's the sad truth. Don't waste time reading this if you're easily triggered as this piece of writing will consist of real and genuine feelings. I’m in no attempt trying to create content for people who enjoy turning blind eyes and wishing they didn’t see this so I’ll give you a fair warning. I'm not responsible for your triggers, whereas I’m responsible for the things I’ve done. I might have cared too much at one point, but I will not hold myself captive to those situations nor will I regret them. I want the lies, deceit and hurt that I’ve committed against loved ones to end, my secrecy has done enough damage and its exhausting pushing people away even though that’s not usually the intent, truth is I am so embarrassed of myself. I'm private, secretive and mysterious but I’ll also talk about my childhood trauma after like 5 minutes. I guess this says I’m happy to talk about my trauma because it's what I know and am comfortable with, I just struggle to tell anyone the real suicidal me behind my problems. I hate that I’m so young and feel like a dead person already.

I tend to act out or distance myself due to fear which isn’t clear at first if you know me, but does become obvious. I might appear as someone with no care in the world, like I’m unbothered, but I assure you that's the African pride combined with the Leo pride. I also don't want people to treat me like a footstool, which has happened when I’ve come off ass too passive. I care so much and over think absolutely everything, it's literally my only way of thinking. I have little to no self esteem and I have no clue who confidence is unless under the influence of something, be it weed, alcohol or psychedelics (which I don't take much of because I enjoy them and don't want to abuse them) I mean I can function sober, I don't even like to be out of control high or drunk, but as Chief Keef once said, I hate being sober. #i'mTrash4thereference. Although I’m not fully healed and functioning yet, I’m a developed character with both positive and negative traits. At the moment I’m going back and fourth between 'just stop trying' and 'you cant give up'. Sometimes depression is kind of like looking at yourself through a window, there’s this part of your brain that understands it'll pass, but you’re so far into despair that its impossible to see the way out, its a lot like being trapped. I am having a bad patch right now, the difference between this one and the last one is I’m more self aware with less of a desire to go on. At least I’m no longer suffering from paranoia and thinking everyone's out to get me all the time or that I’ll get trafficked walking home from somewhere, but depression and mania are so bloody invasive and there’s always that little voice in my head telling me ill never be good enough. Executive dysfunction kills my motivation because I have so many things to do and I cant pick anything to start first, it gets worse when my depression gets worse too. I'm not lonely though; I have a few people who care for me- and while I'm trying to not involve them in the metal episode, they are around to talk to and that means so much. My friends are super encouraging even though I've only briefly mentioned that I'm having a sad time right now, and that's awesome.

I hate that no matter how much better I get there's still this deep desire to get worse. I don't feel like a real person. I just feel like a collection of what people want me to be and various mental disorders. It would be so cool if I could admit to the world I have a personality disorder without feeling disgusting and without fear.

I've had plenty time to reflect upon every bit of thought that created the barbed wire surrounding my logical brain, I want to feel okay to be alive, but I so strongly just want to die. I am tired of fluctuating from feeling extremely vigorously suicidal to passively suicidal; where I just don't have the energy to carry it out myself. It's gotten way past the point that it doesn't matter what kind of day I have, I think about killing myself all day. Sleep is an escape from life and I'm always tired and wanting to 'sleep'. Deep down I feel like I’m waiting for the right time to end my life and it's not the right time yet because I still have a footprint to leave behind, I still have journal pages I want to burn. I cant just jump off the highest accessible building or mall car park I could find just yet- I don’t just want to ruin others by hurting them with my death. It's sad to think I grew into this mindset, waking up wishing I was dead.

Being abandoned by many people in the past made me doubt people and think everyone was out to get me or wanted something from me, it made me feel hurt and lone. So I felt it would be better to let people down before they could hurt me so I wouldn't repeat the same cycle when forming new connections. It wasn't intentional but I could just silence myself due to fear.

I just found myself feeling immensely hopeless, like I was too internally enraged at the external world to be able to trust anything of it. I definitely do want to get better because I’m tired of feeling this way, it's so exhausting and I hate pushing people away from me like I’m poison. I need to allow people to accept all of me.

Before picking up these coping mechanisms when I was younger and more insecure; I wanted to be a part of the world, I had this strong urge to fit in. I had to learn how to manage my anxiety and socialising became more exhausting stemming from my fear of being 'odd' or 'different', I didn’t want to be called out for being different- it was not a compliment at that age, it always felt like a being the joker in the card deck. I was intensely afraid of being judged or labelled as such. Being told I was a 'weirdo' didn't help at all, that type of criticism is what got to me the most. People made me feel like I needed to change, like I was too African, even in a joking manner it didn't help- because although I was okay with who I was, I did feel like I had to change and westernise myself to fit in. I ended up hanging around with people that didn't care, doing stupid things I didn’t even want to do, dating people I didn't connect with. Eventually I got tired of people using me for entertainment, tired of catering to those who refused to understand. I still have to admit there were many periods that I lowered my frequency to be on the wavelength of others that did not match mines at all, I hate that I'm someone who always feels the need to explain myself so people don't think I'm a bad person and even though I don't owe it to everyone and now I am able to make better choices and I'm no longer easily influenced, it still hurts that i was ever around people that made me feel like I was over exaggerating my mental health or uncomfortable to a point where I learned to downplay it or the mention of it. Now as a coping mechanism I’ve become so facetious and sarcastic about my trauma it's a struggle to take myself seriously at times. Users and abusers belittled me to such a point where I felt they'd underestimated my intelligence and most of all humiliated me. It made me tired of justifying myself so now most days I’m just a mute, but I really do finally have good people in my life who deserve some sort of explanation and it's a shame they don't get to be experience a truly present consistent me. It’s just after having the wrong eyes on me, I don’t want anything to see me. I hate attention because I’m so embarrassed of myself I don’t want to be noticed. People looking at me make me want to kill myself.

I've been told to move past my rage, to let go and become a grounded and level headed person. I've been told there is hope for all of us. Must be nice to believe that, all I could wonder was what it was like to get angry without getting homicidal and suicidal. Even on most days where nothing extreme would happen besides negative emotions, my brain still travelled to a dark realm. I've come to a point where I want to live in my daydream universe wile I physically rot away. That's my business. Sometimes I feel as though all my friendships are on a timer, or more so it's that my timer is about to go off, so I subconsciously shy away and make sure i have no deep friendships. Just in case my head decides to do something stupid.

I don't want to have no friends, I want to have friends and I do value friendships so much more than entitled relationships, I just have a difficulty maintaining friendships because it's exhausting for me, it takes a lot of energy to be social and on a level that isn't just superficial where I can just let go and allow myself to fully be. Sometimes I have a hard time relating to other people, and thus I may feel I don’t belong or don’t quite fit in- causing me to feel irritated, paranoid or even in pain during social situations. It's not always this bad, and I don't mean for it to sound dramatic. It's different when In person and I’m really relaxed and comfortable with the company. However virtually socialising and expressing will always be extremely anxiety enducing and its something I need to overcome especially going into this new phase of Artificial Intelligence.  So if I start to drift away it most likely isn't a reflection of you. The cycle goes I need alone time to recharge then I realise how long has passed and I just feel so bad I haven’t gotten back, I tell myself I’m an awful friend for dissociating for so long, and then I don’t know how to explain that so my anxiety rises, mood drops and I spiral back into a pit of depression, often wanting to relapse but refraining from doing so. Sometimes I manage to get out of the pit, but by then so much has piled up I don't know where or how to begin again.

I don't feel like I could have a normal friendship as well as romantic relationship. It's hard for me to long term imagine myself being fully relaxed enough to let my guard down and not reluctant to express. I don’t think there’s any condition where ill just be came and enjoy a connection without worrying that the other person isn’t putting in as much effort, or they have an image of me, or that I’ve amplified the emotions and even though I feel them that way do they really understand me or love me as much. Silence is so upsetting and I hate the fact I do it when I'm afraid of myself or don't feel good enough. I never intent for it to become 'the silent treatment' because in reality its not treating anyone, it's more a reflection of what I’m internalizing and not wanting or being unable to project and express those feelings without feeling like party pooper, an attention seeker or 'too deep'. I don't mean to give people false hope, I love the people in my life so much and every one I’ve met on this journey. I'm learning to look at life through a different lens and the people who contributed to my suffering will not be the definition of me. People have led me to believe so much and strung me along, not letting me go- and I realised those entitled controlling abusive relationships were not serving me. I couldn't keep doing it. Now even though I want closeness I end up pushing people away or leaving them in the dark because of fear, especially of something new because I've never experienced anything good and true for a long enough duration of time to rid me of that fear. I also have fear of rejection or hurting, I fear becoming too emotionally invested and becoming co dependant so I end up wanting to avoid the pain than actually wanting to experience the joy and growth the relationship could offer, so I end it before it begins to avoid any possible pain. I feel like I don't deserve these connections,and sometimes the depression runs so deep I have to push people away in case I want to do something stupid- I don’t want them to feel at fault, or obligated to be able to handle me. Sometimes I really can just only be with myself and my thoughts so I hide but it may appear that I’m pushing others away because of my isolation and neglect.

With everyone I know, I get this feeling that they're too good for me, their energy is so radiant and loving but I feel so broken and don’t want to depend on that. I've had perfectly ideal people come into my life and I feel they’re too good for me because I have a lot of work to do on myself first, primarily I need to build up confidence and self esteem because it's the root of most my issues. I want to relate to people, share our deepest fears and wishes without fear of judgement. It's not that I don't want to get better, I simply cannot remember what it was like to have an actual honest to god normal personality. The feeling of being a mentally unstable chameleon is all I have  now. I AM my illness, that's the only identifier I have left. I can't remember normality.

I understand that I’m lucky and I’m not ungrateful for the things and people I do have, it doesn’t mean that my life doesn’t suck because of those lucky things. I often think about if someone created technology to transfer life to another, I’d happily give them mine because they'd live it much better than me, I’m not worth anything to myself. I never wanted to be someone to cause pain on the people I love but now I do, even if that’s just through silence. I just disappear when I haven’t been doing well and  although I know things get better, recovery isn’t linear and that not all my days are bad, I just have extreme chronic feelings of emptiness.

I struggle to trust people because I don't want to be hurt but I need people so much, I hate feeling unloved. It's so overwhelming because I feel everything so extremely as if I’m going to explode.

My sense of self and reality feels destroyed, my future and dreams are uncertain and it's hard for me to move on, sometimes it scares me what I’m doing to people without the intention of it, being too much or not enough- or at least feeling that way. It's hard for me to give myself a reason and it's not on the people around me to fill my empty void, I hate forcing people to be my friend or understand my illness. I cant expect anyone to want to- it feels like I’m holding their hand while they pull it away; and even though it's not the case I feel awful, I constantly feel like I’m in a more pessimistic head space. I'm worried people will realise I'm as pathetic as I say I am.

[akawrites000]

Haikyuu characters singing summertime - scenarios

(Inspired by this video-)

• Sugawara Koushi:

Sugawara often finds himself humming summertime after intense matches, mainly to calm himself down. He'd just be casually vibing to the song in the lockeroom while changing, not bothering about his surroundings for a while. So when he turns back around, he's surprised everytime as he finds his teammates passed out in different places around the cramped room, sleeping peacefully. Suga finishes changing and sits in a free spot, waiting for Daichi to arrive and once Daichi does arrive, the man sits next to Suga, attempts to talk for a few minutes before dozing off on his shoulder, listening to Suga's soft voice. (Suga's voice is the unofficial lullaby for our Karasuno boys I swear-)

• Hinata Shouyou:

Hinata is the literal sunshine of the group, and so is his voice. One day Kageyama catches Hinata singing summertime (though Kags didn't have the slightest clue about what song it was) during a practice break and he scoots over closer to Hinata as inconspicuously as he could so that he was within hearing range. By the end of those four minutes, Kageyama couldn't care less about the identity of the song, he just wanted to keep listening to that annoyingly cheerful voice- something about it calmed him down.

The next time a practice break rolled around, Kageyama was well prepared with his phone clutched in his hand, ready to record the song the moment Hinata had started singing it (he didn't know if he would sing again, he could only hope that he did). Thank Kageyama's luck, Hinata sang summertime again and Kageyama pressed the fat looking red button on his phone, a smile on his face. Kageyama was enjoying the song secretly until Hinata turned around and screamed bloody murder looking at Kageyama's smile, calling it a "murderous look" with a "please don't hurt me Kageyama!". Kageyama huffed in annoyance, ending his recording session, happy for whatever part of the song that was now saved in his phone. He didn't stop glaring at Hinata though, his mind screaming "rude" at the human tangerine. (Kageyama was genuinely trying to smile though, poor boi)

While staring at his phone after practice, Kageyama remembers something that Atsumu said about having trouble sleeping. So he opens his chat, attaches Hinata’s recording and presses the send button. He has heard from Suga that people generally send songs to each other whenever they find it hard to sleep and since Kageyama didn't really listen to songs much, he sent Atsumu the only thing he had. His parents had taught him that caring is sharing , and he did care about him as a worthy rival.

Bonus : Atsumu looks at his phone after an intense practice regimen to find a message from Kageyama (Kags name is saved as 'goody two shoes' in his phone). He opens it excitedly to know what the younger setter had sent him and finds a recording with a single message attached to it - since you said you had trouble sleeping. He clicks the play button and is immediately bombarded by Hinata's cute voice. I'm definitely listening to this every night, Atsumu thinks, aggressively thanking Tobio back. (Hinata has no clue that he's become pretty famous with the Inarizaki high school volleyball team after that because Atsumu sets it as his ringtone and everyone wanted to know who sang it).

•Tsukishima and Yamaguchi :

Yamaguchi is over at Tsukishima’s house for a sleepover and finds summertime on YouTube. He's immediately addicted to the song, memorizing the lyrics in a matter of minutes and wants to sing it. But he wants to sing it with Tsukishima and spends about half an hour convincing him to do it.

Eventually Tsukishima gives in, according to him it's just "one stupid song" that he had to sing. Tsukishima goes first, and Yamaguchi could tell that he was making some effort, because he's awkwardly trying to touch the high notes while keeping in tune. The sight makes Yamaguchi feel all warm inside, as he stares at Tsukishima with starry eyes until he finishes the song.

Then it was Yamaguchi's turn and Tsukishima’s hooked onto his voice from the first syllable. He stares at him, eyes wide, heart thundering loudly in his chest as he wills it to slow down so that he can hear Yamaguchi above the ringing in his ears. Yamaguchi sounds angelic , Tsukishima thinks and instantly regrets that he's never heard the shorter boy singing much before now. Well now Tsukishima knows, and he was going to use this knowledge to the fullest. Yamaguchi finishes the song successfully, a wide, happy grin on his face. Tsukishima clears his throat,

"Yamaguchi?"

"Yes Tsukki?"

"From now on, everytime you come over, you're singing."

Yamaguchi stares at him baffled, feeling too many things at once because he doesn't know what to feel. After taking a few minutes to digest Tsukishima’s request, he replies with a meek "Okay Tsukki," chest clenching in utter joy.

• Kageyama and Oikawa:

Kageyama for the life of him couldn't understand Modern Japanese. Kanji was too hard and he would keep messing up the strokes, and by the time he ended up writing a character on the page, it would just look like a drawing made by a grade schooler- the subject was seriously driving him mad. The vending machine at school could vouch for that if it had a mouth, because it's exterior is covered with a few hand-shaped dents, all from Kageyama's enraged fist.

"Shit," he muttered, as he made his way towards the residence of the one person who he knew could help him, though the question of whether he would help him was still hanging in the air. Kageyama rang the bell to Oikawa's house and waited for someone to open the door. He waited and waited but nobody answered the door. Maybe he's not at home, Kageyama thinks dejectedly and turns around with a heavy sigh, ready to walk back to his own house, when the neighbor's door opens, revealing Iwaizumi- a surprised expression plastered on his face.

"Hey Kageyama, surprising to see you here." Iwaizumi greets his ex-junior, to which Kageyama bows in reply. "I came to meet Oikawa san, is he not at home?" Iwaizumi pauses, thinking about the current whereabouts of his childhood friend, " Oikawa said he's taking his nephew to the park in the neighborhood, so he should still be there." , he says. Kageyama thanks him and makes his way towards the park to meet his senior.

He was just a few feet away from the park and could already hear Oikawa's annoying voice, teasingly calling out to someone. Does this guy have to tease everyone? Kageyama thinks as he turns the corner, finally spotting that patch of hazelnut hair, perfectly styled even with the evening wind that was subtly blowing.

Kageyama cleared his throat before calling out, "Oikawa san." Oikawa turned, brown eyes widening in surprise, having not expected a sudden visit from Tobio. "Oya oya, look who we have here." , Oikawa stated, his signature smirk back on his face. His previous target was all forgotten about, as Oikawa focused on Tobio, who was his all time favorite person to tease.

Kageyama bowed respectfully, " I'm having some difficulty with Modern Japanese so I was hoping that you could help me..." , he paused, looking up for a brief second to meet with hazel/brown eyes, "please."

Oikawa observed his junior, hazel eyes trained on his bowing form. This boy's as awkward as usual, he should really learn to lighten up more, Oikawa thinks. Everytime Kageyama came to him for a favour, Oikawa was always secretly pleased. Even after going to a new school and meeting new seniors, when it came to something important, Tobio would always come to him and on days Oikawa felt particularly low, he would think back to his adorable but awkward junior and all of his unique behaviors. That always managed to cheer him up and make him feel giddy, and Oikawa would ride that high for hours. He smirked, looking forward to this encounter with Tobio already.

Oikawa knew that he would end up helping him in the end, it was always like that and he had a feeling that's how it would always be. I will help him, but not before I have my own fun, he thinks smugly- it's just ingrained as a part of his personality. "I will help you Tobio chan," Oikawa replies and he watches as Tobio's eyes light up for a brief moment, before continuing, " but not before you do something for me." Tobio's face had gone back to his usual poker face that he had these days, any semblance that Oikawa could see of the Tobio that he knew back in middle school completely gone now.

Kageyama had expected this, so he wasn't too surprised. With a sigh, he spoke up, " what do you want me to do Oikawa san?" Oikawa looked around, as if the answer to that question lay in the skies or the trees in the park. His eyes landed on his nephew who was happily jumping from one monkey bar to another. " If you can sing summertime better than me, then I'll help you with your work Tobio chan." Oikawa stated.

Kageyama stared at him, baffled. He had figured out the name of the song after hearing Hinata singing it on loop back in school. He just didn't understand why everyone was so obsessed with that song. "I know that you obviously don't know the song, so I'll let you look at the lyrics and sing." Oikawa added, clearly not expecting his junior to know the song, even if it was super popular.

Kageyama simply smirked, " I know the song Oikawa san, so I'll be fine." Oikawa stared at him, surprised once again. You never fail to surprise me Tobio chan, Oikawa thinks and chuckles. He had just listened to the song with his nephew while walking over to the park, so Oikawa remembered the lyrics too. "So, I'll go first," Oikawa says and begins to sing.

Kageyama's heart clenched, similar to how it did when he heard Hinata sing, but even more. He guesses it's because he has never heard Oikawa's voice like this- all soft, smooth, and silky, because whenever he was looking at him, he was always fooling around with people. I should've known that he was good at everything, shit, Kageyama cursed inside his head. How was he supposed to beat this? Oikawa finished, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "How was that Tobio chan? I could have a side profession as a singer right?" Oikawa playfully taunted Tobio like he always did, expecting to see Tobio's usual scowl, or the younger boy gritting his teeth in apparent frustration.

But what Oikawa was shown instead made him almost gasp out loud. Tobio was looking at him, all docile and shy, staring at him with starry eyes and it reminded Oikawa of how he would look at him back in middle school for a second. Oikawa's heart clenched but he didn't know why. He just balled his fists tight to hide his nervousness and wait for the younger boy to do anything, say anything.

Kageyama finally spoke up after what felt like eons, " Yes you can Oikawa san." , he said in a small whisper as a response to Oikawa's previous question and the sincere tone in which that was said made Oikawa's cheeks feel warm. He cleared his throat, desperate to change the topic, " Now it's your turn Tobio chan." , Oikawa said, genuinely interested in hearing Tobio sing. This would be the first time for Oikawa to hear him singing.

Little did he know that this was the first time that Tobio sang in front of anyone else either- he was strictly a bathroom singer, but now, desperate situations called for desperate measures. Tobio began singing, Oikawa staring at him intently, as if drinking every syllable that fell out of his lips. Oikawa thought it was very Tobio-like- a warm, sincere and honest voice- and he would never admit this out loud but Tobio sounded really good. Like really good. Oikawa lowkey wanted to record it but somehow managed to hold on to the last ember of pride in him. He would have to devise another plan for that someday.

Kageyama finished the song, sighing in relief that this torture was finally over. He then got up and turned around, putting one foot in front of the other- ready to go back home. He had lost in the sing-off battle that they had just had. Oikawa didn't say it, but he knew it himself, his voice was no good when compared to Oikawa's.

Oikawa stood up, slightly baffled but at the same time understanding why Kageyama did what he did. He's been watching him for years after all, and the boy has always been so foolishly stupid and straightforward- like an arrow that didn't know how to bend. Oikawa had come to understand that that was how Tobio showed his kindness, and it made him feel happy and irritated at the same time, that someone could be so painfully sincere in life. "Where do you think you're going Tobio chan?" Oikawa called out (even though he knew the answer) just as Kageyama was about to leave that park entrance. Kageyama simply looked back and replied, "home."

Oikawa sighed, calling out to his nephew, " Come on, let's go home! I have to help my junior with some of his work." Kageyama stood there with an expression that said "why?" Once his nephew came over, Oikawa walked over to Kageyama who was waiting for him at the gate. "Your summertime was pretty good Tobio chan, so I'll teach you as a reward for that." Tobio smiled at Oikawa's back as he walked behind him, Oikawa's nephew tagging by his side. "Oh, I didn't know that you helped people Tooru, that's news to me!" , the young boy chirped sarcastically and earned a karate chop to the back of his head from his uncle. He raced back home, leaving Oikawa and Kageyama walking side by side.

"That stupid brat!" Oikawa huffed out, slightly irritated, " I'll have to teach him proper manners sometime."

And just like that, Kageyama spent the evening in Oikawa's house mulling over his Kanji, while Oikawa tried to desperately the raven haired boy awake while learning the subject. (Oikawa is best tutor <3)

This is my first post here, I just felt like I had to write something after listening to all those versions of summertime. These were so fun to write and I hope you all enjoyed them! Please let me know if you want me to continue this.

[shivae]

Summary:

Furious at the actions of one little elf breaking into his home and having the forbidden love potion created, the Bog King takes over the Spring Elf Festival and demands its return. And it is returned. In his face. Now, King Dagda has to deal with a lovesick Bog wanting permission to court both of his daughters, neither of which are taking the situation as seriously as they should. What could a couple of princesses do with a highly suggestible Bog King?

Chapter 1: Invaded

The Bog King was furious, his anger clouding his judgment as he stormed across the stage, belting out a song he had heard and quite enjoyed during a foray into the human world. It felt fitting to give the assembled fairies and elves what they wanted, his presence.

After all, he kept to himself, within the confines of the Dark Forest. Bog kept his trolls, goblins, and various other denizens of the darkness under his control, in his forest. They were never allowed to trouble the fairies or elves as a sign of a mutual understanding that Bog expected the same treatment. He had even made this clear to the king of the fairies, Dagda. He and his people remained in their kingdom, and the fairies and elves remained in theirs.

Bog sang like he did it every day, and in truth, on good days, he would, when nobody could hear him. They baited him out of his forest, and he took it, enraged, furious, insulted. And now? He sang for them, a song he knew was eerie and intimidating. The looks on their faces were precisely what he wanted to see, fear. They needed to be afraid. These people with their constant frivolous parties and dances. They needed to be frightened, and they needed to be reminded to stay out of his forest.

Still, there was a moment he sighed inside, as he turned and saw two children on the stage, momentarily frozen to where they stood. They took one look and screamed, fleeing. Their reaction was a little too pure, genuinely terrified at the sight of him, and it hurt. Fear. That’s what he had wanted, right? Yes. He wanted them afraid, but to be honest, scaring defenseless children did not exactly fill him with accomplishment.

It hurt.

The feisty fairy who had charged him squirmed, glaring at him with eyes lit up with embers. Two hefty trolls were bearing her down on the stage, but she still fought, the sword she had gone after him with embedded in the stage within hands reach. Bog didn’t break his song, striding across the stage to grasp the sword by its hilt, tossing it a little further out of her reach.

She took him by surprise, this unarmored female fairy with her dark blue wings. Bog tried not to pay too much attention to her, even though he purposely positioned himself to keep an eye on her. Her face was contorted into a mask of rage toward him, golden-brown eyes lit up in the middle of dark eye shadow.

The presence of the fairy king was the only thing that caused recognition of who this fairy woman was. They had met before, only she didn’t look like that the last time he saw her years earlier during a meeting with her father. It was only a glimpse, but she and her sister were just another couple of annoying fairy girls, not worthy of his attention. Princesses. How he loathed them and their annoyingly spoiled existence.

Fairies. Bog had no time for these people. Why couldn’t they understand the rules? Why did they not understand that he kept the Sugar Plum Fairy under lock and key for a valid reason? Nobody deserved the horror of her love potion, whether it worked or not. It was wrong, and he took responsibility for keeping everyone safe.

*

Sunny stared at the spectacle going on before him, holding the uncorked bottle of love potion behind his back. The goblins had swarmed the stage as he was stepping up behind Dawn, who was now shivering in fear at the creatures standing so close to her. They were mostly ignoring her, as long as she stayed still.

Dawn whimpered, holding her wings close to her back, attempting to get closer to her sister, but the goblins behind her snarled and loomed over her, indicating she shouldn’t move. Still, Sunny crept closer, unsure of what he could do. Maybe he could make a diversion? He wasn’t sure, but at the moment, he was between Marianne and Dawn, the fearsome Bog King a short distance away, performing for his captive audience.

Sunny looked around for Roland. The typically strutting male fairy was nowhere to be seen. He had been right next to Dawn. Whimpering, Sunny scooted another step closer. Because he was so small, it appeared the goblins were just ignoring him as not a threat and not worth taking captive.

*

“I’ve been trespassed and invaded,” Bog sang, swinging his scepter from the king on one of the stage, to his daughters in turn, intending for them to know they were his targets. They were the ones responsible for not keeping their people in line and one of them was coming home with him to hold until they rectified their error. “And I am not amused.”

“I’ve been insulted!” Bog turned his back to the princesses, spinning back around to face their father, whose face was completely drained of all color, his mouth agape. Good. That’s what Bog wanted, for them to understand the seriousness of what they allowed to happen. “Disrespected! I’ve been mistreated!” And he lifted his scepter like he was singing into it, beginning to enjoy his performance. He spun again, his wings rasping behind him.

“King Dagda, return the love potion before moon down!” he landed and snarled at the fairy king, backing toward the princesses, intending on taking one of them. The choice was obvious, not the fierce one. She would be too much trouble. “I will hold your youngest daughter until then!”

Without thinking about how close he was coming, Bog loomed down into Marianne’s face, grinding his teeth in a threatening manner, wanting to see her flinch back, but she didn’t. Instead, she wrestled a fist free and, with extraordinary strength, smashed it into Bog’s jaw.

Caught by surprise, his head rocked to the side, and he blinked, rubbing a hand over his jaw in astonishment. Impressive. This female fairy was very impressive. The words flew through his mind as he sought to reclaim the upper hand. Striking him, meant he had to hit her back. He didn’t want to, but there was no choice in the matter as he snarled and lifted his scepter, intending on bringing it down on her shoulder, someplace it would hurt, but most likely not seriously harm her.

“No!” Sunny shouted, “Take me instead! I have the love potion!” He held up the open bottle and started forward.

Bog turned and stepped toward Sunny at the same time Marianne freed herself. She stumbled forward in front of Bog, rushing to her sister as Bog walked toward the elf. The sudden movement in front of him, made Bog react with a snarl, lunging for the potion.

Startled, Sunny tripped over his feet and threw his hands out, sending the entire bottle of love potion into the air. Marianne grabbed her sister, pushing her a few steps away.

“No!” Bog shouted, not thinking as he grabbed for the bottle and ended up with a face full of the potion. It flew everywhere, and the Bog King sneezed violently, whirring his wings to dissipate the dust.

The empty bottle clattered to the ground and rolled, disintegrating into a cloud of white sparkles now that it no longer contained any potion. The music died as the goblins stared at their king. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on him as he stood frozen, his own eyes open wide as he gazed at the two princesses with a perplexed expression. A moment before, his blue eyes were cold glinting pieces of ice beneath a dark brow, now they were open wide, gleaming with intense brightness.

What was going on? What happened? Everything seemed so vivid and bright, these two beautiful young women standing before him. What was he doing? Bog blinked, recalling he was singing. He was singing to them.

And he began singing again, the same song, but it changed. “I’ve been mistreated…” Bog gazed at both princesses, his voice starting low and rising with intensity. “I’ve been abused. I’ve been struck downhearted, baby, I’ve been confused.”

Marianne made a face at him as he came closer, moving protectively in front of her sister, who wrapped her arms around her and attempted to hide behind her wings.

“I’ve been lonely, I’ve been cold, I’ve been looking for a woman to have and hold.” The words came out in a pleading tone as Bog stopped before them, bowing and holding out his hand, his eyes meeting Marianne’s.

“Get back,” Marianne growled in response, moving a step away.

“I’ve been mistreated, I’ve been abused.” Bog’s voice came out soulfully sad, his hand still held out as he lowered himself further. His eyes. Marianne’s anger suddenly fell away, realizing the Bog King was under the full effect of the love potion. Up close, his eyes were dilated, gleaming such a shade of blue that it was disarming.

“Okay, now, just back away, Bog King.” She glanced around for her sword, and Bog followed her eyes, seeing it at the same time. Without hesitation, he flew to her sword, withdrew it from the stage, and returned to her, bowing to present it to her across both palms.

“Uh.” Marianne knit her eyebrows together, realizing in his current condition, the danger had passed, however, now they had a new problem. “Thank you.” She took her sword, and he rose up proudly, smiling at the acknowledgment, wings humming gently.

“Bog! You need to leave and take your goblins with you!” King Dagda huffed, storming across the stage, the goblins who had been holding him having backed off, staring in astonishment as their king appeared to lose his mind.

“Go home!” Bog turned, shouting at his goblins. Their mouths dropped open and they looked at each other, completely confused. “Go home!” Bog repeated furiously, his pauldrons raising in annoyance that he hadn’t been listened to immediately.

“That includes you,” stated Dagda, folding his arms, his pair of guards flanking him, hands on their sword hilts.

“Dad, he was hit by the love potion,” groaned Marianne. “The entire bottle.” Dawn nodded from behind her sister.

Bog turned to Dagda, bowing low, something which stunned the old king. In his previous encounters with the Bog King, he was usually formal but also curt and didn’t waste words. “King Dagda, I request permission to court yer daughters.” Bog asked the question quickly, without any signs of reserve.

“What?” Dagda gaped at Bog. “Dawn is too young for marriage, and Marianne has a suitor.”

“Dad, I do not,” moaned Marianne, running her hand over her face. “And I don’t want one either!”

“Oh.” Bog hung his head sadly, then he lifted it quickly with a smile. “Then I will watch them and keep them safe.”

“You can’t do that, you’re the King of the Dark Forest, Bog.” Dagda pointed out with a sigh. “You need to return to your kingdom. That is where you belong, not here.”

“I love them.” Bog sighed heavily, a wistful look on his face. “I can not leave them.”

“Okay, the Sugar Plum Fairy makes love potions. She’s his captive, so we just need to get him to go back to his castle and get her to make an antidote.” Marianne began formulating a plan, glancing around the stage, where she saw various elves and fairies gathered, staring at the Bog King. Sunny stood with them, looking extremely nervous.

“Antidote? I am not poisoned,” stated Bog.

“You might as well be,” groaned Marianne. Bog smiled at her, gazing through half-lidded eyes.

“What is yer name, goddess of the evening?” Bog bowed again.

Marianne groaned even louder. “Marianne.”

“And yours, morning flower?” Bog motioned to Dawn, who giggled in response, stepping out from behind her sister.

“I’m Dawn!” She stepped forward, fluttering her wings and taking Bog’s hand. He lifted it to politely kiss it.

“A lovely name for a beautiful woman.” Bog smiled, and Dawn giggled more. Both Dagda and Marianne groaned in response, with Marianne coming up behind her sister and grabbing her by the shoulders.

“He’s not so scary,” whispered Dawn, still tittering.

“Stay away from him,” growled Marianne protectively.

“Is there anything I can do for ye, Marianne?” Bog bowed once again, making an offer.

Marianne smiled, spotting a bit of gleaming green armor hidden behind a leaf near the stage. Roland was watching them. “You know what, there is something you can do for me, Bog King.”

“What is it?” Bog leaned toward her, an eager glint in his eyes, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Marianne.” Dagda followed Marianne’s gaze to Roland’s hiding place.

“See that fairy in the green armor.” Marianne stepped forward, taking Bog’s hand, making him turn with her. She pointed, grinning. “That is my ex-suitor.” Marianne whispered as Bog leaned in close. “I do not want him anywhere near me. Can you take care of him?”

“Marianne!” Dagda gasped, overhearing the conversation.

“Don’t kill him.” Marianne rolled her eyes and gave Bog a gentle push in Roland’s direction, hoping to get rid of both of them with that action.

Bog snarled, leaping off the stage, staff raised to get rid of the ‘rival’. One slash took out the stem of the leaf Roland hid behind, the next strike smashed into the ground where he had stood. With a yelp, Roland back winged as fast as he could and fled into the darkness with Bog close behind.

Marianne laughed, folding her hands across her stomach at the look on Roland’s face. Dagda sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Marianne, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Marianne continued laughing.

“It’s not right,” grumbled Dagda. “He’s not in control of himself.”

“Oh, I think he deserves it.” Marianne smiled at her father. “He’s such a nasty fairy. He was going to hit me, Dad! And he was going to kidnap Dawn!”

Dagda gave his daughter a sad look. “Be nice, because it’s likely that potion will wear off at some point and we shouldn’t insult him.”

“Is he going to follow us home?” Marianne held her sword up, turning it so the blade glinted in the moonlight. “Is he… dangerous?”

“Normally, he minds his own business,” stated Dagda, tapping Marianne on the shoulder to make her turn. “He’s coming back. I’ll make sure there are extra guards posted around you and Dawn.”

“Hello again!” Dawn waved cheerily to Bog as he landed on the stage and strode proudly across it to stop in front of Marianne.

“I informed him he is not allowed anywhere near ye,” stated Bog with a smile, looking from Dawn to Marianne. “Is there anything else I can do for ye? Anything?” The eager to please look made Marianne wince. She had to look away because her father was right.

“Dad?” Marianne grimaced. “What do we do with him?”

“Bog,” sighed Dagda. “You are under the effects of a love potion. Do you understand that what you’re feeling is not real?”

Bog tilted his head, staring at the Fairy King. “Isn’t real? It feels real.” A goofy look spread over Bog’s face. “Love is so wonderful.”

“No, it is not!” Marianne snapped. “Love is awful! I don’t need it, and I don’t need you!” She took to the air, growling as her wings carried her quickly into the darkness.

“She’s going home,” stated Dagda. “Come with us. We’ll set you up with someplace to stay until this wears off.” Bog nodded forlornly until Dawn reached out and took his hand.

“It’s okay,” Dawn spoke soothingly, wrapping her fingers around one of his. “Don’t look so sad, Boggy.”

“It’s Bog.” He smiled at her affectionately.

Dagda sighed, “Remember, Bog, you are too old for Dawn, and she is too young for you.”

“I understand.” Bog nodded. “But, Marianne is okay?”

“Honestly, stay away from Marianne too,” muttered Dagda. “This will wear off soon, I’m sure. I hope.” He turned, motioning for Bog to follow him.

“I don’t want it to go away,” whispered Bog, his eyes wide as Dawn smiled at him.

[exobyharu]

PCY - Ch2

Chapter 2: Sometimes, it works that way

(Part 1)...(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: Chanyeol vs the world and Chanyeol vs himself, featuring his well-planned attempts at damage-control. You don’t make it too easy for him.

⏰ 11:12 AM 🌏 Hotel (S), City of (L), but you transferred to the 38th floor now 🌤 Sunny, summer morning, and it’s almost as sunny as Chanyeol’s mood 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongin (mentioned), Kim Junmyeon (mentioned), Chanyeol’s sister (mentioned)

Notes: This is part 2 of my PCY series. Hope some of you like it! He’s much nicer (to you) now, at least at the end (sort of). PCY may have dropped a couple of curse words here and there, but that’s all I have to warn you about. PCY says he’s sorry!

Words: ~1,900

💙💙💙

Chanyeol hated it, that his new composition was turned down yet again, by their over-qualified and impossible-to-please producers at SM Entertainment because, for probably the fourth time this month, it’s about time you stopped making your lack of experience show in your love songs, no matter how heartfelt you think your lyrics are.

He also hated it, that his sister borrowed his Mercedes Benz without permission, and only called to inform him that she had unintentionally defaced it once again by crashing it against a tree – and it’s even the same tree as last time.

Jongin also left a voice message earlier that evening to tell Chanyeol that he had misplaced the keys to the private studio. But it’s okay and there’s no need to panic because the interns and some staff members volunteered to help me look for it. Jongin apologised for always losing and breaking his senior’s belongings and promised that he won’t let anything like that happen again. Newsflash: Chanyeol hated his promises too.

When all of that happened in a span of three hours, along with Baekhyun’s persistent calling and mindless whining as the sweet cherry on top, it was only last night that Chanyeol finally discovered how things would blow up.

There’s a distinction between a bad mood and an ill temper, he would constantly remind himself. There is a limit to what behaviour is acceptable. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that he forgot to give himself the pep talk recently. This was why his adviser’s worst nightmare finally came true: Last night, on the balcony of this suite room, Chanyeol abandoned all caution, emptied himself of patience, and mindlessly acted on his frustrations as if the world owed him a proper outburst.

The rapper was weak on his knees when he remembered how he lost his shit and ended up taking it out on whom he thought was one of their group’s obsessive fans. What made it worse was that you apparently turned out to be an unsuspecting stranger who was not even up to anything remotely intrusive. Chanyeol was certain that whatever transpired from last night’s interaction with you was most probably typed out already, in some group chat or online page and it was only a matter of hours before his phone was ringing to a call from his enraged manager or worse, from Junmyeon, who always preferred to express his brotherly concern by packaging it as a mouthful of obscenities instead.

Much like last night, Chanyeol spent the early hours of the day, collapsed on the suite’s ridiculously oversized bed, pondering and unable to think of answers for his life’s profound existential questions.

How many ex-girlfriends did he need on his badge to write a love song that would pass SM’s extensive quality control? What kind of genius did Jongin have to be in his past life to be so remarkably scatter-brained now? Bench presses were bench presses. How was he going to teach Baekhyun how to cheat on his reps when he, himself, never did? Most importantly, why was his sister such a terrible driver?

The whole process was mostly a one-way conversation with the luxurious finish of his suite room’s coffered ceiling because much like the answers he could not produce for himself, he had to accept that some things in general were simply beyond his control.

He could try to cut down that stupid tree, though. The dumb task was two bumper repairs overdue.

With newfound resolve, he also made sure that he spent the next few hours after his morning shower rehearsing the, albeit extra kind, words that he would use when explaining to his manager, to Junmyeon, or even to the company’s CEO, if you had managed to blow the whole thing out of proportion. When he called for room service to have breakfast delivered, he even inquired about how to send a massive bouquet of flowers to the occupant of the suite room beside his, simply because fuck ups like last night were not allowed to be in Park Chanyeol’s record. Ever.

About a few minutes later, a delicious tray of espresso waffles and sides finally arrived at his doorstep, along with a message that the suite room right beside his had been emptied just last night. It was at this moment upon hearing the hotel staff’s message about the female occupant transferring to another room, that the rotting sensation at the center of his chest returned in an instant. He ended up not eating much of his breakfast and crushing his face against the silk on his pillow seemed to be the best course of action instead.

This is all your fault, so you fix, he thought incoherently, hoping that blaming himself again brought more clarity. He thought back to last night, trying to remember how much he had told you and if it were truly enough to rile you up, prompt you to file a report, and transfer to another room.

He could not even recall if he said a couple of bad words or not.

Pursing his lips as he walked the tightrope in between discouragement and desperation, it did not take long for him to decide to give it a go and call the front desk. Even though he was familiar with hotel policies, and even though it was another item on his endless list of things that he hated, not to mention too much against his principles, it looked like he was willing to overlook the misuse of his VIP status to have his way just this once. It was promising that his phone had not buzzed since he had woken up, but the fact remained that it was now, or later, when irreversible damage was done and Dispatch was already camping out at the hotel lobby downstairs.

So he did as he rehearsed, and it was almost nauseating how it took too little effort to get the details that he wanted. Something in his gut roiled when he had to emphasise his name as if his identity were a badge that can be used to proclaim himself qualified to make such a special request. Your full name, YN YLN, along with other personal details that he did not ask for, were disclosed to him without the need to impose or even lie. 

Nevertheless, he got what he needed and Chanyeol hoped that it was worth the brief moment of shamelessness. Again, he comforted himself that damage-control in itself was a pain in the ass. And even though hating himself for resorting to this method was even more exhausting, it had to be done in order to move forward with his plans of setting things straight.

Press 0, and then after the beep, 3815.

He did not expect it, but it plunged his nerves into a state of panic when he started dialling your room number. Maybe he was afraid of you and what you had to say -  more specifically, about how many of your friends already knew about last night’s exchange. Were you even going to speak to him? Did he even want to speak to you? The compromise was to put the phone down after five rings and send the damn flowers instead.

You answered exactly after four long rings. “Hello?”

“Yah!” he yelled, the couple of rehearsed lines he had prepared, instantly forgotten. “Why’d you move?!” His nerves pretty much took over and Chanyeol knew that he was not angry. It was beyond him if this distinction was not clear to you.

Still, your voice on the other end of the line remained impeccably calm. “Um, may I know who this is?”

“It’s Chanyeol.” In his years of performing in front of cameras and audiences, the rapper had never thought that introducing himself could elicit so much frustration.

You paused. “…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t remember last night?!” he yelled again. Immediately, the distant sound of his own voice made him cringe. It was an effort to ignore how it reverberated inside the room. He tried to clarify much more kindly now, but his attempt gloriously failed the moment he started. “It’s Chanyeol! Sexual Fantasies, Park Chanyeol!”

Your sigh that followed was a bit over-dramatic and it looked like he had done it again. “I know, okay?! I mean I know it’s you! You made last night pretty hard to forget, and I don’t mean it the way other girls in your head do. I was just unsure about apologising because you’re the one who explicitly told me to stay out of your way.” You were clearly getting worked up and it was too bad, because so was he.

“And you really thought I meant that?!”

“I still think that, seeing that you wouldn’t stop yelling at me! I only transferred to make the both of us happy, okay?”

“Do I sound happy to you?!” It was not a pleasant feeling to hear you sigh after every sentence because he realised that it was no longer just his reputation on the line. Chanyeol was not called the Happy Virus for nothing and he genuinely felt that he was putting down a lot of people by causing someone else’s distress. Ironically, this infuriated him even more. “You didn’t have to change your room and I’m not happy that you did!”

“Then that makes only me.” Your voice from the other end was dismissive and dripping with contempt. “Looks like your day will suck, Mr. Park, but please, let me enjoy mine.”

“Yah! Don’t put the phone down!”

“Seriously, Chanyeol, what do you want from me?!”

“Just stop hating!”

“I will if you leave me alone!”

“It doesn’t work that way!”

At this point, the conversation became all about talking over the other. It took a few more out of the both of you before Chanyeol realised what an idiot he had been for the past two minutes. Stress had really done a number on him lately.

Relax.

Catching his breath in the brief silence that ensued, he allowed his pride to crumble in the name of ending all this bullshit between the two of you. He was just tired, more than anything else. Releasing the tightness on his throat, he modulated his voice to suit the tone that he would effortlessly use when speaking to a fan – or his mother.

“Just… meet up with me, will you? There’s this café at the top floor.”

“No thanks. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“What stuff?”

“Stuff that’s none of your business, obviously.”

Your answer made him press a hand to his forehead. You mean stuff that’s non-existent, obviously, he thought with a roll of his eyes. What kind of idiot did you think he was? Though it did not look like much on paper, he decided that all the painful overthinking and planning had already gotten him this far and it was impossible for him to take no for an answer.

“Tonight then? I’ll be there by 7.”

“No, Chanyeol. I won’t be there.”

“That’s great! I’ll wait for you.”

And then he hung up the phone too soon, which was his underhanded way of making sure that you did not have the change to decline any further. What he did was almost rude, but Chanyeol promised to make up for his bad manners tonight instead. Even though he would not consider the conversation a step towards the redemption of his ruined first impression, if he got you to show up, he was sure to not waste his chance. Now, all he had to do was figure out what stunt he was going to pull off in order to make up for being a stupid shit last night.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

[theoldgods]

Game of Thrones has always been a hot mess in many ways, and I haven’t directly watched it myself since 2015. That said, I think the mess since 2015 has been in large part due to two things: Benioff and Weiss getting GRRM’s planned out endgame states for the main characters and some broad-stroked actual plot points (burning Shireen, the “Hodor = hold the door” revelation, and something along the lines of Dany burning KL/Dany ending as a villain/Jon having to kill Dany) and Benioff and Weiss having no idea how to get to those plot points (which, to be fair, GRRM also doesn’t know or we wouldn’t be eight years out from ADWD with TWOW still nowhere in sight).

I don’t attribute any sort of malice to Benioff and Weiss, nor do I think GRRM secretly hates them or anything (he’d have to hate himself just as much, since although the show’s failure to provide meaningful drama or good pacing or decent dialogue is on Benioff and Weiss, particularly with the note that apparently HBO was willing to fund several more seasons to flesh things out but they wanted to get it over with, their inability to plot this third act of the story is one he self-evidently shares). The idea that they purposefully torpedoed the end of the largest television show in the world, or that GRRM fed them fake plot points to sabotage them or whatever, is conspiracy theorizing from people who want to assume the book ending will play out the way they want it to, when it’s much easier to just assume some level of incompetence all around. I think Benioff and Weiss genuinely wanted to honor GRRM’s planned ending; it’s just that enough has changed in showverse that getting characters to those endgame states satisfactorily is pretty much impossible, but they doubled down and did so anyway, on a rushed schedule. They were in a no-win situation, partly of their own making, partly of GRRM’s. (I don’t feel bad for them; they catapulted their careers into the stratosphere off the back of this show and got paid handsomely for it [as did GRRM, incidentally], and I don’t see them suffering any consequences for the lackluster response to this final season unless something seriously hurts HBO’s bottom line or allegations come out about personal conduct or they just piss off enough financiers somehow.)

This is all to say that I think the GoT endgames for pretty much all the main characters are very close to what they’d be in bookverse: a Dany who dies viewed by the people of Westeros as a tyrant and not a hero, Bran and Sansa in leadership positions, Jon returning to the Wall and the wildlings, Arya freed from the need for revenge and off on adventures, Tyrion serving on a council and permanently cut up by his participation in mass devastation (perhaps realizing like Arya that revenge was not the relief he thought it would be), Jaime and Cersei dying in each other’s arms (either incidentally or as a part of some sort of murder/suicide thing). In particular, divisive as they are in fandom, I have a hard time seeing D&D coming up with Dany carpet bombing King’s Landing on their own (they like her character, maybe too much so/without enough villainous seeding in the show) or D&D deciding on their own to make Bran king (they’ve always struck me as barely giving a shit about his character).

ASoIaF fandom is going to be fractured for the foreseeable future in arguing about how much of the show ending is book canon, how bookverse would take characters to these places, what “broad strokes” means for how similar the endings are, and more. There’s a lot of ambiguity (on purpose; GRRM isn’t going to come out and say exactly what will be different, because then why would people bother to read the books to find out?), and desperation and strife thrive in ambiguity. Fans who hate aspects of or all of the show’s ending (particularly Dany’s ending) may be trying to take solace in the idea that “the books will be different,” which I, as someone who was deeply invested in another character who likes burning people who got a bizarre show ending, sympathize with. As time passes and books still aren’t released, making it all the more likely that the books will never be finished and we’ll never get closure, fans cling to the scraps we’re given to try to make sense of this story we’ve invested ourselves in and, if we’re disappointed with certain show endings, try to console ourselves with the idea that the books will save us. But I think it’s a fool’s errand, albeit a sympathetic one, to expect book Dany to die a hero, or Stannis to not burn Shireen, or Jon instead of Bran to end up king. The framing might well be different (we’d be in Dany’s head to better understand how she gets to that breaking point, Stannis would be burning Shireen in far more dire straits than the half inch of snow on the ground in the show, Bran may be a lot more human and Bran-ly in the books instead of entirely a creepy surveillance state borg) but the end is the same, and bittersweet (Dany and Jon and possibly Tyrion providing the bitter, the survival and relative triumph of House Stark and the younger Starklings providing the sweet).

(To give an example of my own hopes and assumptions the show dashed: I assumed the war for the dawn would be the absolute climax, with Dany and possibly Jon dying during it to save humanity and little discussion of the political situation afterward. A portion of the fandom definitely thinks that this may still happen, with Dany nuking KL first and then going to repent by dying a relative hero against the Others, and I wouldn’t rule it entirely out, but the more I think about it the more I see how even if it does happen that way, Dany and Jon might survive the Others and then still be unable to peacefully settle, with Jon having to kill Dany after she refuses to stop chasing the throne even if it means continuing to use dragonfire or something along those lines. It’s just hard for me to see B&W totally torching Dany’s character on their own if GRRM intends her to die a hero; they seem to like her character and would, given free rein, prefer for both her and Jon to have more traditionally heroic and/or happy endings, I think. They just sucked at making Dany’s heel-turn believable and added some pretty noticeable “women be crazy” framing, which enrages people and leaves them uncertain whether their anger should be directed at B&W or if that framing will also exist in the books and they should just cut their losses now.)

Anyway, it’s rough, and as a fandom we’re locked in seemingly eternal ambiguity with quite a good chance we don’t get bookverse closure, making everyone bitter and uncertain and generally desperate, which doesn’t make fandom any easier to participate in. I’d like to think things will calm down at least a little as the show recedes into the distance and people adjust to the probable endgame, but I’m not very optimistic about that.

[sweetenerboo]

Love Yourself: A SeokJin imagine

hiiiii guys! so this is my first imagine and I am super nervous about it lol, but I hope you like it! The central theme of this story revolves around insecurities and not feeling like you’re deserving of Jin’s affection, but Jin tries his best to convince you otherwise. Like I said, I cried a lot when writing this, and happy Jin day! I love this guy so much and I never knew it was possible for anyone to be so handsome and funny until i saw him. With that being said, I hope you like what I did, and,,,, yeah. I hope you like it!

You and Jin have just got home from spending a long day out together

You and him have been spending way too much time in the house and you guys eventually promised each other that today would be the day that you’ll spend the entire day out having fun. 

From fishing, to shopping, to hanging out at the zoo, you vowed to not return home until later that night, when it was time for dinner, cause Jin promised he’d cook. 

Once you got home, you two brought all the groceries into the kitchen. Jin stayed behind to unpack all the food as he was immediately getting ready to prepare dinner. 

You walk into the living room and fall down on the couch, tired and full of thoughts. 

“What are you in the mood to eat tonight, love?” He asks. “We bought so much food, I am pretty sure I can whip up anything you want.” 

“Anything is fine.” You say nonchalantly. You face away from him as you don’t want him to see the somber expression on your face. 

Jin picks up that something is not right. He enters the living room to sit beside you on the couch and notices the sad look on your face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks after taking your hand. 

“Nothing.” 

Once again, that nothing sounded emotionless, but this time you turned to look at him and give him a forced smile. There are tears forming in your eyes as you stare into his, still smiling. 

You hated this about yourself. you tried your very best to assure him that you’re okay, but you are too emotional to come up with a brighter expression. 

“No, you’re not. What happened babe? Tell me.” 

You hate that you have to tell him. Your insecurities make you feel even more insecure when you talk about them, and you feel too embarrassed to admit anything. Even if it is just someone as sweet and caring as Jin. 

Still, he somehow pushes the answer out of you. 

You hesitate before speaking, wondering if it is even worth bringing it up. Questioning what this will do for your relationship in the long game.

“Hyung, do you ever question why you picked me?” 

Jin looks surprised by the question, as he looks out into the distance. 

“Never, love. I’d be the biggest idiot if I questioned my best decisions.” 

He giggles but stops abruptly when he realizes that you are serious. Like, really serious.

You try to show him that you know he means well by smiling wider than before, and even blushing a little, but a tear starts to trail down your cheek. 

“Why do you ask that?”

He tries to wipe your face with his bare finger before the tear falls onto your shirt. 

Over the course of the day, you have began to feel more and more uneasy. But, that was going unnoticed by Jin until now.

You heard a few people pass by the two of you and whisper, and even laugh, while others simply stared at you in confusion and disgust. 

Your relationship with Jin isn’t a secret. The label knew, the members knew, and so did the fans. Jin actually had to fight the label to get your name out there. 

Although the members loved you two together, the fans did not. 

You’d often read hate comments online about the two of you. Fans would call Jin heinous names for picking you, while others harassed you over the way you looked, saying ‘Worldwide Handsome doesn’t need you in his life.’. You were even backstage at one of their Love yourself concerts and certain people booed while he performed ‘Epiphany’. 

You’ve taken harassment like this before, but for some reason you are starting to feel worse about it now. 

You explain all this to him as tears start to fall down your face, progressively getting worse. You can’t stop yourself from breaking down. It feels as if though you forgot to breathe, and you were on the verge of losing your mind. 

You sob as you cover your face and start to lean back on the couch. 

Jin scoots closer to you, and wraps himself around you, holding you close. As you cry, he takes your head so you can lay on his chest. He rests his head on yours as you hear his heartbeat. Eventually you even feel a tear of his own fall onto your head. 

You feel so embarrassed of yourself and ashamed that you let him see this side of you.

“What did I do wrong? What did I ever do to deserve this kind of hate?”

he starts to tighten his grip on you as you tremble in his arms.

“Absolutely nothing. It enrages me that the Army chooses to act like this. It makes me not even want to call them Army.”

his voice is breaking.

“It breaks my heart even more that you feel this way, love. You should’ve told me about this the second you started hurting. I thought you didn’t care, and now I feel like the worst boyfriend in the world.”

You look up at Jin to see that he is silently crying, the tears falling quickly down his face. 

You hold his hands and bury your face even deeper into his chest. 

Eventually he fixes himself so he is leaning against the armrest, and you are now resting your head on his lap. 

Jin is looking down the hallway, staring at nothing while you stare at the blank television screen. You two sit there silently for what seems like an eternity. While you were waiting for your tears to dry you feel so relaxed that it seems right to fall asleep in his lap. 

the entire time Jin was running his right hand through your hair, brushing it gently the way you love, while his left hand is holding yours. 

“I’m sorry hyung.”

you say that through a shaky voice. 

“I never meant to make you feel bad.” 

Jin looks down at you and starts to wipe your face with his sleeve.

“I just hope from now on you know that I am happy to have you in my life. Your presence makes me the happiest person in the world.”

He replies, not breaking eye contact or letting go of your face. 

“You are genuinely one of the most beautiful people I have ever met and getting the opportunity to have you in my life...”

he hesitates.

“I just don’t know what I’d do without you, love. Nothing and nobody will ever change the way I adore you.”

You start to tear up once again as he plants a kiss on you.

“I love you Jin.”

he kisses you again.

“I love you a billion times more.”

He kisses you a third time.

“Now, how about you answer my question. I know you’re hungry. What do you want to eat?”

You giggle a bit. Before you could answer however, you hear a loud bang on the wall, some laughter, and then a seemingly innocent knock on your door. 

Both you and Jin were alarmed until you eventually recognized one of the laughs to belong to Jungkook 

“Hello... Jin?”

And that muffled voice behind the door was definitely Hoseok.

“Yeah?” Jin yells curiously. He did not want to get up to answer the door cause he knew how comfortable you were in his lap and he didn’t want to ruin your relaxation.

“So, it’s family dinner night, and it’s going on 10:30, and... Joon was wondering when you were going to be done cooking.”

Jin rolls his eyes as you hear a couple of whispers and giggles, followed by Hoseok telling them to shut up.

“What? I’m not cooking.”

There was nothing but silence for a few seconds. 

“But you always cook. And I don’t know if we can leave that job up to Joon.” 

“You guys can’t always assume I’ll have dinner. Besides, I don’t have any materials to cook.”

You looked over to the kitchen counter full of groceries as Jin continued to lie to Hoseok. 

“Well... V said that he seen you two unloading your car with bags of food.”

“Yeah, I did.” Tae quickly says behind Hobi’s back. “I saw food.”

“Tae, why were you watching us?” Jin asks.

There was a long moment of silence.

“...Yoongi locked me out of the dorm and I didn’t know what to do.” He said in embarrassment.

“You need to start carrying a spare key, Tae. And no, we weren’t packing food. Those bags were full of clothes.”

“But I saw celer-” 

Before Tae could finish his sentence, there was a loud slap, followed by Tae letting out a very painful moan.

“HE SAID THERE’S NO FOOD, LISTEN!”

“Oh yeah, Yoongi is here now.” Hoseok casually said.

“So you better open up before we use him as a battering ram.” Jk joked.

“You guys, I’d seriously love to help, but my love and I have some personal business to attend to.” Jin sighed.

There was a long silence, and you can just picture the four of them looking and grinning at each other, thinking some seriously dirty thoughts.

“Oooooookay Jin, okayyyyyy” Jungkook said, trying not to laugh.

When the four of them walk across the hallway and into their dorm, that’s when you hear them all start to snicker.

“Hey Joon!” Yoongi yelled. “Jin can’t come to dinner cause he’s too busy having sex!”

That’s when everyone started to scream of laughter before the door closed.

You and Jin look at each other and start to laugh as well. 

“I’m so happy you moved out of there when you did.” 

he starts to give you his dorky windshield-wiper laugh as he pulls you closer to him for a passionate kiss. 

“Now let’s get to cooking.”

THE END

[clexjanowitz-blog]

The Kiss of Death: Chapter 1

"His young heart is thus extinguished. The blood in his veins grows cold. And all strength has gone. Faith has been extolled by his fall into the arms of death. Amen." Cleo Janowitz fled from her hometown, Charming, after uncovering a secret that should've stayed hidden. Leaving behind her brother, her boyfriend, and the club. What happened when she had to face the consequences of running away without telling anyone?

~~~~

   A drive that was supposed to be an hour and a half was taking me twice as long. Rain wasn't a concern during most seasons in California, but since it's winter, the occasional storm was to be expected. Water was hitting my windshield in thick tear shaped drops, gradually increasing in speed. If the rain wasn't hard enough to deal with, a dense layer of fog hung low in the air. I was already a nervous wreck while driving before my tire popped in the middle of the road. I'm only twenty minutes from my destination when Bruce, my Mazda Miata, gives up on me. I mumbled curse words as I pulled my car to the side of highway eighty-eight. I thanked God I didn't simply drive through a puddle, and then lose control of my car. I patted my stomach a bit and breathed a sign of relief. Disappointed in myself, I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and called the only tow truck in this relatively small town, Teller-Morrow automotive repair.

   I saw the tow truck drive up from quite a distance away. We were the only two cars on the road this Christmas Eve night. The truck pulled in front of my car and I could vaguely see the figure of a man climb out through the fog, which seemed to be getting worse more rapidly than the rain. As the man got closer to me, I could see the outline of a beard under the dim streetlamps. I already knew who it was before he walked further under the light. Piney. "Hey young lady." He called out in an authoritative voice. I would've been nervous for other reasons if I didn't know Piney Winston better than most people. I swallowed a lump in the back of my throat and called back a shaky "hello" in response. Shit, Cleo. I thought. Get it together. Piney took a couple steps closer until we looked each other in the eye. Then he chuckled a little. "Welcome home kid. Merry Christmas." He seemed genuinely excited to see me. I smiled, a small, sad part of me is excited to be home as well. "Thanks for coming to get me and my car." I said sheepishly. It only took him seconds to look me over and realize the extra weight wasn't just from my over-sized raincoat. "Cleo..." Piney's voice trailed off. He gazed in the opposite direction and rested his right palm on the back of his neck. "Are you pregnant?"    He sounded as unsure as I felt. I cleared my throat. "Yes." My voice was muffled. "Seven months." I said matter-of-factually, sounding more confident than I did before. Piney still wouldn't look at me. "Who's the father?" "Do you even have to ask that?" Piney breathed a sign of relief, worried my child wouldn't be born to a member of the Sons. Except I didn't long for them to have any connection at all. I loathed myself for ending back in the same place that I started, but the only thing that had changed was the extra human I carried around and a man who no longer loved me. I wanted to keep my baby as far away from this life as I could. I didn't care that their grandfather and their father were patched members, I knew the club would tear my little family apart like it did many years prior. "No." Piney said hesitantly. I felt sadder than I had in months. "How is he doing?" I asked Piney, sounding as mono-toned as I could muster. "Not good Cleo. He misses you like fucking crazy." I swallowed what felt like a rock sitting at the back of my throat as I closed my eyes and tried not to cry. I missed him too, more than they could've imagined. I missed him more than I wanted to breathe. But he shattered every piece of self-assurance I had when I found him with another woman six months ago. I lived everyday agonizing over every detail of the situation. "He shouldn't have fucked that girl then." I spat bitterly. I wanted to tell Piney how much it hurt me. I wanted to tell him how hard it was to take on a second job while being pregnant, but I didn't mention it. "It really wasn't how it seemed." Was that stupid cliché the only thing Piney had to say about the situation? I waited a minute to see if he'd elaborate and when he didn't, I walked toward my car and grabbed the small duffel bag from the backseat. It took all the strength I had to lift my bag, though it couldn't weigh more than a couple of pounds. I sighed when I reached the passenger door of the tow truck. I was out of breath and exhausted. Piney must've noticed me struggle, because once I opened the door, he took the bag from my hands and held out his arm, so I'd have something to grab onto as I climbed inside. I mumbled "thank you" and caught a quick glimpse of his face as it was illuminated by the light above the dashboard. I've only been gone six months, but Piney looked like he aged years. I felt sorry for him. I understood the magnitude of stress he must've been under.    Once Piney got in the truck, he focused his attention toward me. "Where are you sleeping tonight?" I didn't look him in the eyes. "I'm gonna rent a room at the Hilton in Stockton." Piney didn't respond. "It's only about twenty minutes from here. If that's too far to drop me off, then I'll take a cab from the shop. I can pick up my-" He interrupted me before I could finish my sentence. "Why are you going to Stockton?" Piney asked dubiously. "It's not any of your business." I tried not to sound snide, but I felt anger start to bubble inside me. "Cleo, you better stay away from Lenny. That's not up for discussion." My jaw almost dropped, I was shocked to hear Piney still order me around after so many months had passed. "You can't tell me what to do." I was enraged, but I put on a calm face. I knew I wouldn't be taken seriously when I started to raise my voice. "It's for your own good, so just listen to me girl." Piney pulled away from the side of the road and started to drive with my car secured in tow. "I know you're looking out for me, but Lenny's my father and tomorrow's Christmas. I've been alone the past couple of months, with no one to talk to but him. I want to see him, and I shouldn't have to explain myself to you or anyone else." The silence in the truck was deafening, while Piney contemplated what I had just said. "And he's dying to see me while I'm still pregnant." I added in with pride. If it weren't so dark, he'd be able to see the smile plastered on my face. I felt hope when I thought of my baby, and if my father was the only one to emotionally support me, it'd be enough. "Lenny's known this whole time?" Not quite sure of where this conversation was headed, I responded, "About my baby? Yes." Piney snickered at me, which only added to the anger I felt before. "What?" I asked. Piney just shook his head and snickered again. "What the fuck is so funny?" I snapped at him. "He just conveniently forgot to mention it to the club, that's all." Piney responded causally. The calm before the storm. "He didn't conveniently forget, I told him not to mention it, and he respected my wishes. He's the only person who's been encouraging me during this time." What I had said seemed to set Piney off. "He can't be the only person here for you, he's in prison." He retorted, sounding amused. "It's not his fault and you know that!" I yelled. I tried not to lose my temper, but these damn hormones make it so hard. Piney practically gasped. "You better keep your mouth shut girl. You'll get killed for talking like that and you know that." He was right, as frustrated as I was, I kept my mouth shut like he told me to.    I tried to get my emotions under control as best as I could during our drive to the shop. The ride took twice as long as I expected it to. The rain slowed to a mist that lightly tapped the windshield. I felt safer in this truck with Piney than I'd felt in the past six months. I knew in this truck I was safe from danger and criticism. The comfort I felt also induced new heights of anxiety, I was okay but how long could that feeling last? I pushed these irrational thoughts to the back of mind, I knew I had more pressing issues I had to face. The place is filled with bikes when we finally arrived, it looked like a used motorcycle lot. I felt emotions I didn't remember I had. Piney and I continued to sit in silence for a couple more minutes until I turned to him. "Thank you for getting me and my car. I'll call my cab now and then come back for the car when it's ready I guess." Piney didn't respond for a while, just stared straight ahead, not even lifting his hands from the wheel. "No." He stated simply, offering no further explanation. For a fleeting moment, I missed Wyatt when I remembered his protective nature wasn't nearly as overbearing as Piney. Just one moment I allowed myself to relish in the idea of Wyatt driving us to Stockton to see Lenny the next day. I pushed the notion away when I remembered he would never agree to see our dad, but still took comfort in knowing he wouldn't stop me. I opened my mouth to speak, but Piney interjected. "The club's in lockdown right now. I couldn't let you leave even if I wanted to. Someone could follow us." I shook my head slightly, not like he could've seen in the pitch-black cover offered by night. I was once again frustrated and defeated. "No one wants me, who would follow us?" I mumbled under my breath. There is always some truth to be found in self-deprecating humor. Though Piney didn't laugh, I received an eye roll. "You're SAMCRO's biggest weakness. Daughter of Lenny Janowitz, sister of Wyatt Janowitz, and soon-to-be mother of Happy Lowman's child. See? You could seriously piss off three people by killing you."

https://www.wattpad.com/story/162392428-the-kiss-of-death-a-happy-lowman-fanfiction