#ive had this thought for a while but i finally found a way to articulate it

[pinkeoni]

El's Superhero/Monster Dichotomy

El's monster conflict starts in season one, when she blames herself for the gate opening and for Will's disappearance.

This conflict seems to be "resolved" when she kills the actual monster, the demogorgon, making herself a hero and not a monster. This is even suggested earlier by Mike, who innocently tells El that she isn't the monster because she saved him.

Although this "resolve" is actually quite tragic. She proves herself to be a hero which does offer a conclusion to this conflict within this season, but she sacrifices everything for this.

This conflict comes back in full for El in season four. She no longer has her powers, and she's in a new environment where she's alienated and bullied. On top of everything, her boyfriend can't even say "I love you" to her. It's not a stretch to say that she feels monstrous.

This is only reaffirmed for El after her incident with Angela. Now, obviously this wasn't a good thing for her to do, but El also completely disregards all of the pain that Angela made her feel, perceiving herself as this violent monster who attacks innocent girls unprovoked. We know this is what she's thinking when she says as much to the cops.

I don’t think El wanted to kill Angela, which is why she says “I don’t know,” but she’s unsure because she’s unable to trust her own judgement. At this point she sees herself as a killing machine, so she must have wanted to kill Angela, even if that goes against her true reasoning.

Now, of course we the audience know that El isn't the monster, and everyone close to her knows this as well. But what matters isn't how others perceive her, it matters how El perceives herself.

Her argument with Mike doesn't absolve any of her feelings either, which is of no fault to either Mike nor El. El was too in her head and it wasn't something anyone could talk her out of, and she also wasn't aware of Mike's own internal conflict which was informing all of his responses. Mike can't say "I love you" to El because of his own issues, but to El, he can't say "I love you" because she is an unlovable monster.

Mike really means well when he says "You're a superhero," but it makes things much worse in El's mind. Instead, it creates an unreasonable expectation—

El believes that if she can't save the world, then she must be a monster. She doesn't allow herself to be neither— a human being.

NINA doesn't do much to alleviate El's dichotomous thinking, if anything it only encourages it. She only shifts the monster label on to someone else, that being Papa, and since she wasn't responsible for the massacre like she, and even the audience was led to initially believe, she's able to cleanly reclaim her superhero status. She was the one who defeated the perpetrator, in a moment that visually echoes the end of season one. She's the hero again!

She marches into her battle with Henry with a new sense of high confidence. And she loses.

This isn't El's fault, but she blames herself for Max's condition anyway. Will points out that Max wouldn't even be alive if not for El, but it doesn't matter for her.

To El, getting her powers back doesn't make her a superhero. And if she's not a superhero, well, then she must be the one who destroyed the world.

The resolve of El's conflict wasn't to get her powers back, she just believed that it would fix her problems. But the core conflict is still there— her black and white way of thinking.

So what does this mean moving forward?

Ironically, I think that El can actually learn something from Henry:

I don't think that El's arc in the coming season is going to be about becoming the hero again, but rather unlearning this train of thought. The world isn't made of monsters and superheroes, the world is made up of human beings who all make choices, her being one of them. She isn't responsible for the decisions of others, and it isn't her responsibility to take care of the mess that others create. She's a brave girl who decided to use her powers to try and save her friends, and her failure doesn't make her guilty for the fallout.

I wouldn't be surprised if El pushes herself to be the superhero who saves the world once again, although, the show has already revealed to us what happens when she does— it destroys her.

[my-castles-crumbling]

24 anon back in misery business (.mp3) with an update!

the baby shower was absolutely stunning first of all (i knew it would be, they always do it up right. i saw some of the decorations beforehand (accidentally, not planned) and it was nice to see how they got used in the end). i went with my grandma and sat with her the whole time bc she didn't know anybody outside of my friend, her husband, and her immediate family and all of them were busy/sitting elsewhere. i had a nice time, all things considered. but whenever i go to any of her events i always end feeling like its another nail in the coffin somehow. i found out her babies middle name in the middle of the baby shower when she held up a gift with his first and middle name on it, we didn't take a single picture together (thats okay, we never do (which... in itself is probably a big sad for me too if i think on it too long lmao). i dont think i can remember us taking a picture together (aka not a selfie, which honestly would probably end up being around the same time too) after our junior year homecoming in like 2017 (?)) so it bummed me out to see her posts about it the next day with tens of pictures with other people and then the only inclusion of me in off in the distance in the background? i feel like its a bunch of little things i have to complain about but they add up and build up so easy, you know?

she's somebody i will forever actively choose to keep in my life, in whatever way that ends up being, but i have been trying to take a step back from the friendship a little bit. if only emotionally, at the moment. were so physically distant that distancing emotionally is near my only option lol. im trying to maintain the relationship as it currently is but im trying to get comfortable with the change in pace and meet her were she's at and not get upset (internally, i will never be upset with her about this or make her feel bad or reasonable or anything of the sort). ive spoken at length about this whole thing with my therapist so i feel validated in the decision in ways only a therapist can accomplish, but i feel like its such a major thing to make decision about in ways i cant articulate after working all day. i know a lot of this has to do with the age i am, but i feel like ive been hit with a lot if things all at once (both things just happening now and things that have finally built enough pressure to explode) that feel like the proverbial book of my childhood being shut for the last time except its not gently with a loving fondness, its getting slammed shut and tossed to the side to inevitably get thrown out. thats an in the moment sort of thought and feeling and ill heal from that eventually (growing up 2: the electric boogaloo, stoked for her), and all the dust will settle and ill be able to breathe clearly again, but dear god is it fucking unbearable in the mean time.

anyways, on a brighter note, my friend did LOVE the shower gift i gave her (a crocheted by me baby blanket (softest yarn in the world, her little sister took it around the whole room to show it off i literally adore her) and three books (she wanted books instead of cards)), and the picture of her opening that gift is my new favorite of her (i have a lot of complicated emotions about pregnancy and having children (a whole other can of worms) and, bc of this situation, her specifically having children so i have never been truly excited about her being pregnant and sort of dreaded it (i will never tell her that (and when i do it will be in a very long time). but im getting there little by little bc i want to be there for her, pregnancy and parenthood is, imo, the hardest job in the world so, i will become excited even if only by self force. but seeing that picture really did something for me, i dont think ive ever seen her so lit up about something. it elates me in such a way that i am completely devastated over it).

my most sincere apologies to your askbox for being my unwilling fake therapist while im on a break from my real one. do you accept insurance, or offer any sort of flat fee or sliding scale?

Hi! <3

It sounds like you're working through a lot of complicated feelings, but I'm proud of you for being willing to work through them. It's so hard to have a change in a major friendship. Honestly I feel like it's tougher than a breakup in a lot of ways. I really understand what you're going through on a personal level and it's SO hard. I know the feelings of mourning, understanding, confusion, acceptance, even a little excitement (because yay, baby). I'm proud of you for talking all of this through.

As far as payment, I accept pictures of cute animals.

[keeboismine]

I HAD A ML DREAM AND I NEED TO SHARE THIS

ps. im so bad at like articulating my thoughts and my brain is all over the place so read at ur own risk <\3

ANYWAYS so there was this akuma that showed up and its power was basically to give people the courage to kiss the person they love the most.

so ladybug gets hit and is like goddamn ive got to find adrien but obvs chat noir is adrien so shes not gonna find him silly girl

and this is a dream so this part makes zero sense; she teleports away and BECOMES adrien while still trying to find him?? we can just pretend this doesnt happen for storyline purposes

anywho, chat noir gets hit and immediately starts going to find marinette.

hes like “yooo what am i doing im supposed to be in love with ladybug”

and the he sees her, smiles, and just is like “nah fuck it” and PULLS HER IN.

they then kiss the cutest sweetest kiss known to man.

they pull apart and just look at eachother with stupid lovey dovey faces and u can tell that marinettes brain is going at a trillion mph

the visibly comes to a conclusion, then pulls him in again.

he smiles into the kiss

then i scream at the dream tv “YES MARICHAT ENDGAME MARICHAT ENDGAMEEEE!!!”

idk how marinette was there tho because she was supposed to be looking for adrien 😭

all of this waa like on the side of a street tho so im assuming he found her after she detransformed and was looking for adrien

OMG.

WAIT

IMAGINE IF HE DIDNAVTUALLY GO TO LADYBUG BUT BECAUSE SHE WAS DETRANSFORMED SHE WAS MARINETTE BUT HE JUSY DIDNT CONNECT THE DOTS?!?!!

whatever either way he still finally figured out that our girl marinette isnt just a friend 🙌

[hinoko-takami]

Hello. I am coming here to just scream into a void. I dont want to burden our friends with this but the words need to get out of my head.

Things have been extremely hard on us recently. To keep things short, we lost a lot of people we thought good friends, and our stress levels have been super high ever sence. We made some new friends but they have their own dramas we are trying to stay out of.

I, Death, have been frontstuck for a few days now and its begining to take a toll on me. I understand why nobody wants to be front for long now. We were switching a lot more before I got stuck. We're worried that the stress of these events are going to cause us to have a new host, or for our host to split. We really dont want that, mostly for our non-system friends.

We can deal with it, we have before im sure, but the pain it could cause our friends, who dont fully understand, would be too intense. We risk loosing them too. Not out of being upset, but out of not having that same bond.

We try to make a bond with them whenever someone else is front, but i worry its not enough. I'm very afraid of that. What would we do if we lost them? I dont even know.

We dont want a new host. We dont want to split, we dont want people to go dormant. We just want to feel better.

Our friend, ill call them 1, was talking to me, and out of nowhere they said they missed our host. I felt dread. I didnt know how to react, knowing that theres a possibility that they could never see him again. It would hurt them too much. I dont want them to hurt.

Its simalar with our other friend, 2. She seems distant from us whenever its not our host fronting. I understand, but it hurts... we care for her too. Most of us have a good memory of our friends, so to feel like we're being distanced hurts, especially after everything that just happened.

As I mentioned prior, ive been frontstuck for a while. I think today is day 4. Imnnit holding up as well as i thought i would. Im usually a very happy person, but stress finally caught up to me last night. I had been able to distract myself from how much i missed my family in the inner world, as i found myself enamored with another person from another system. They had to switch out and i feel as though i did something wrong, despite knowing i havent. When another person fronted, he and i talked, the way he spoke about my friend hurt to hear, but i didn't fight anything. He was the one who made me feel i was doing something wrong, despite again. Doing nothing wrong. It wasn't intentional on his part and inhold no ill will against him, i would actually like to know him better, but still. My friend is curently on what is esentially time out from fronting for a little while, for what i feel to be a ridiculous reason. Regardless, its not my choice to make.

It doesn't help that i have a hard time with social interactions. We are autistic, and some people have it worse than others. I personally struggle heavily with social cues, tone indicaton, intense emotions, and i have an awful time articulating my emotions, even to myself. We also have severe social anxiety, which just makes it worse. I want to get to know people better, i want to be social, i just struggle a lot with it.

I lost rhe point of this, then again, was rhere wver really a point? The point is that im stressed and anxious and depressed. The point is i dont want to be front anymore. The point is that i want my family.

Thank you if you've read this far, for whatever reason. I wish you a good day.

-Death

[asseater3k]

Metal Gear Mania Day 3

Game: MGS2

Major spoilers below the cut!

Today started with an unfortunate back to back case of forgotting to save I hadn’t saved the previous night after learning about the patriots and had to repeat the Nikita puzzle and acquisition before i went of to save Emma I did the Vamp boss fight and got to her and brought her back to the boss arena where I then accidentally cartwheeled into the death water and then accidentally pressed exit instead of continue so i had to repeat the boss fight and do the cool water level again. The E.E. Part of the game was welcomingly straight forward and simple after really getting blasted with patriot knowledge and especially in contrast of what’s to come I like Jennifer Hale in just about anything and she did a really good job here, enough to make me forget she was Naomi in the last game. She was charming enough though on a side not i found the conversations with with roses Mary weird at this point some of them make sense later and some of them didn’t I really didn’t like the one were she get jealous of Emma no real big judgment on the scene just made me uncomfortable as did a the serene where she’s dying and says stuff about her wanting otacon to see her as a woman and then otacon says he had affair with their mom both things I really want to gloss over. I did get pretty effected by Emmas death. A combo of seeing otacon just get totally ruined and myself being close with my siblings made me feel some type of way also final heroic gesture being ineffective or halted despite the effort they took always guts me in stuff since I was a kid and we got that with the computer virus, also The Fucking Handshake. Ive seen gifs of it before but when you hear the meta gear theme playing for the first time in the game and the emotions of the proceeding scene fresh it just hits in a such a way, and I think that might be the last normal cutscene in the game. The last like 40-50 minutes of this game is fucking insane. I talked earlier about the slow unraveling of threads and this point they take the spool and yank leaving you spinning. Revealing that Olga is Mr. X was pretty cool i dint see it coming but i also didn’t really think about Mr.Xs identity a lot and had zero theories still i really liked Olga by the end her kid being held by the patriots and her willing to get super own zoned because only raidens life signs needed to be up for her kid to survive was cool and I liked that it wasn’t like super overplayed and didn’t overstay its welcome. I like when a charter is like “oh I’ll for sure die to achieve my goals / save my friends” but is chill about it. The fucking Russian nesting doll of reveals on top of arsenal gear made me feel things I can’t articulate some combo of getting hype fro the reveal in terms of like narrative and gameplay execution and the first person bewilderment to match raidens. A while back my brother watched a documentary about Hawkeye a program used in tennis do determine out of bounds calls and some other stuff and he came back from it kinda shaken something about objective reality and perceptions of it or something I didnt get what he meant then. I think I do now. The last part of that game deals a lot with stuff about the self and personal identity and if we can really know anything about ourselves other or the world around us even though it leaves with an assertion that to an extent what we choose to believe and be is just as real as any objective truth, I really liked that the face of all these big uncertainties and questions from raiden snake just said “fuck that we are what we are our beliefs thoughts and actions subjective as they are make us people and people should and can do so much good if they put themselves to it”

The last things i want to talk about are how well done all the stuff with Campbell turning out to be an AI was and how the reveals of the s3 plan recontextualize the fucking design of the game. I talked at length yesterday about how effective Campbell is at creating this sense of unease in the early and middle parts of the game. I love scenes of layered flashbacks revealing stuff at the end of mystery stores and hearing Campbell acting goody towards the end and raiden saying how he realized he’d never met him in person gave me, the player on of those in real life every sitlted response every out of character action replayed in my head that was now also armed with the knowledge that the patriots have AI capabilities and I went nuts the best kind of mystery story telling lets you have these moments and similar things happened to my brain during the first s3 plan reveal. The fact that the game having a lot of similar set pieces moments and structure to the first went from an understandable if unremarkable product of making a sequel to making real diagetic sense and having a naritive purpose is insane. Ive never seen a game weaponize the fact that during gameplay you’re at some point going to see things as they which is to say designed by a person. That’s just a fact of the experience its not good or bad it just is but using that as a part of the story is geniuinly brilliant and some of the best example of something very uniquely suited to the medium

That’s about all I have I dont think i was able to put my feelings into words as well as i was yesterday but thats most likely cause so much of them are still very fresh and raw right now

If your able you should absolutely play MGS2 its one of the best games Ive played in a while and I’m so unbelievably excited to move on to

[anti-catradora-receipts]

I really had to see someone say catra didnt abuse adora bc she "didnt have a position of power" over her. And claimed that i "didnt know what abuse was". Well i guess the abuse that ive been through in relationships (platonic and romantic), that has often been like catra/adoras dynamic, wasnt abuse huh. Guess im not an abuse victim after all by that logic

Dear anon,

Firstly, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for everything you’ve been through. And I’m really sorry that someone tried to invalidate your experiences with abuse. I really hope you’re doing okay and taking care of yourself.

Secondly, I disagree with the person’s statement of “catra didnt abuse adora bc she "didnt have a position of power" over her.” That’s false. 

Catra admits to manipulating Adora during the show. And this article talks about manipulation in a relationship and how manipulation is all about power and control. I extracted some parts of the article and placed it right below (within the quotation marks): 

“People who manipulate use mental distortion and emotional exploitation to influence and control others. Their intent is to have power and control over others to get what they want.

A manipulators knows what your weaknesses are and will use them against you. This will keep happening unless you actively and assertively put a stop to it. That said, it is not always easy.”

Next, this article is from the perspective of a victim of abuse after leaving an emotionally abusive relationship. The author of the article wanted to better understand their past abusive relationship and shared the insights that they gained from reading the book, ‘Power Games: Confronting Others’ Hurtful Behaviour and Transforming Our Own by Kay Douglas and Dr Kim McGregor’. I feel that the article illustrates in depth the enormous power imbalance between Catra and Adora and I extracted some parts of the article and put it below (within the double quotations): 

“After leaving an emotionally abusive relationship, I found myself needing to understand what had happened. Like most people who leave a volatile situation I was, quite simply, unable to process and articulate what was wrong. Apart from being incredibly vulnerable, I was also just too close to my own situation to see it objectively.

So I decided to read Power Games: Confronting Others’ Hurtful Behaviour and Transforming Our Own by Kay Douglas and Dr Kim McGregor. What I found was a wealth of information confirming what I couldn’t express or even see for myself. Here are some choice insights from the book, as well as some of my own thoughts*:

1. Control is always at the heart of a power game. The need to assert control will usually involve undermining and/or discrediting another to achieve our own ends. For example, we are using power games when we:

bully or intimidate someone into agreeing with our demands;

bait and provoke others through disturbing statements or actions and then claim they’re being over-sensitive/emotional, crazy or irrational (known as gaslighting); 

...

engage in name calling, put-downs, harsh criticism or threats.

2. Manipulators are not concerned with taking responsibility for their decisions/behaviours/feelings. Instead, they create a smokescreen by shifting the focus or blame to others. And consequently, the other party must assume the responsibility for making the situation ‘better’. If the other party is a ‘good’ person, they will comply with whatever demands are issued (peace at any price). As soon as they resist, however, the manipulator is likely to go on the attack.

3. For the receiver, cumulative exposure to such tumult may reduce self-esteem and increase anxiety, resentment and fear. Receivers will experience intense emotional reactions and may end up interpreting these as proof they are selfish, unbalanced, over-sensitive and unreasonable. They may lose their sense of self; either over-compensating to ‘get it right’ and ‘be better’ or even adopting manipulative tactics against others.

...

4. For the receiver, regaining personal power starts with a shift in one’s thinking. More specifically, an acknowledgement that the manipulator must take responsibility for their feelings and behaviours and any future change. It is accepting that the dynamic needs to change and learning to distinguish between real and manufactured guilt. It is constructing and defending boundaries and a willingness to listen to what anger is trying to say. It is the ability to cut through the smokescreen tactics and see the situation clearly. It is the ability to speak one’s truth and articulate one’s feelings. It is honouring the self. And, sometimes, this will mean leaving.

What I learned is that while not everyone who feels inadequate is a manipulator, every manipulator feels inadequate. So do we all, I know. But, what sets manipulators apart is the way they consistently and systematically re-distribute this inadequacy onto others.

...

What I also learned is that by disengaging I was not giving up, but that I was actively saying ‘I am worth more than this’.”

On a personal note, I just wanted to point out some additional reasons I see a huge power imbalance between Catra and Adora:

- The fact that Catra was completely okay with controlling Adora and Catra was not willing to give up her control of Adora.

- The fact that Adora seems to be the one who is constantly scared of Catra. At the present moment, I can only remember two scenes when Catra is scared of Adora: when Adora gets corrupted and attacks Catra at the beginning of White Out (S2E5), and when Adora gives Catra “The Look” at the end of The Portal (S3E6) . In addition, take a look at this scene. Adora honestly believes that Catra is going to kill her:

- The fact that Catra is completely okay with taking away Adora’s power. In the following scene, Catra doesn’t even see Adora as a person but as a tool. Catra literally states that they’ll use the corrupted sword in order to control Adora and use Adora as an advantage for the Horde. Catra even states that she’ll control Adora to kill Adora’s own friends. That is unbelievably sick. Moreover, Catra was completely okay with controlling Adora’s choices and actions. In fact, this scene supports the fact that Catra was completely okay with taking away Adora’s freedom. 

And honestly, there are some stark similarities between the previous scene with Catra and the following scene with Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver was ready to take away Adora’s power and use Adora as a tool against the Rebellion. 

I’d also like to point out that what Catra was willing to do to Adora, Horde Prime had actually done to Catra in S5. Catra’s power and freedom was taken away by Horde Prime and Horde Prime controlled Catra to attack Adora. The fact that Horde Prime took away Catra’s power and freedom was cruel and despicable. And the fact that Catra was willing to take away Adora’s power and freedom is cruel and despicable. 

Moreover, Adora ended up with Catra, a person who was perfectly okay with taking away Adora’s freedom and power. 

That is absolutely vile.

Finally I just want to add that my pinned post titled “Catra abused Adora.” has hyperlinks to resources relating to abuse:

- The Emotional Abuse section is reviewed by professionals. 

- The Physical Abuse section is provided by an online mental health service in Australia.

And these resources confirm that Catra emotionally and physically abuses Adora. 

In conclusion, you are right to say that Catra abuses Adora. Again, I’m really sorry that someone tried to invalidate your experiences with abuse. And I really hope you know that your feelings about Catradora are completely valid. 

I genuinely hope you’re talking care of yourself. Seriously, please make sure you check in with yourself and prioritize some self-care. 

Thank you very much for sharing. ✨

[lailannajacobs]

If You’d Ever Had A Real Boyfriend, Maybe You’d Know What To Do With A Fake One | GIBP IV

Pairing: Fey!Loki x fem!reader 

Chapter Summary: You experience your first council event and get to know Loki a little bit better. 

Warnings: pure fluff

Word Count: 12.5k 

A/N: I know this took quite a while to come out, but I ended up writing far more than I’d intended and I spent a lot of time editing to try and get the fake dating as perfect as I possibly could. I hope you don’t mind the length so much and I’d love to know what you think of the chapter!! <3 

You had wanted to spend the whole hour in the bath, scrubbing the stupid Junabee from your hair, but Loki had given you an hour alone and you weren’t about to waste it soaking in a tub; no matter how luxurious or tempting it was. You’d chosen a dark silky blouse and fancy but comfortable pants, quickly noticing that Valkyrie had made a slitted compartment in the leg for your dagger. You hadn’t spoken about it with her and you didn’t know if that was her way of ominously warning you to stay safe or simply that she’d gotten a better read on you during your afternoon than you’d thought. Either way, you were glad to have it there.

Even though they clashed with the outfit, you’d kept your boots on underneath, refusing to part with them. You weren’t in the mood to get blisters from shoes you’d never worn before and needed to to know you could run and move if need be. Your steps were silent on the floor — another reason you’d kept on the boots — hopefully imperceptible even to Fey hearing. Leaning your ear against the door, you waited, listening for movement in the hallway. Nothing. Your hand was tentative on the handle. You gently pulled open the door and stepped out, eyes scanning the hallway. You bit back a groan.

Loki was leaning against the opposite wall, freshly changed into a dark suit, the cut and style similar to the likes of human fashion and his dark hair combed back. You were momentarily surprised he owned something like that, but with the mountain of clothing you received from Valkerie only hours after meeting her, you should have guessed she would have made something for him as well. It was a clever move on his part, and you wondered if it was him or his seamstress who had decided on the suit. Regardless of who’s idea it was, the clothes fit him so perfectly, even you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome. The thought made you scowl. He raised a brow.

“I thought you were going to be back in an hour,” you blurted then quickly realized how suspicious you sounded.

He shrugged, “I lied.”

The silence stretched on after his words and you turned them over in your mind. He knew you would try and leave. It was the only reason he would have lied about something so unimportant. And you stupidly believed him. You ran your tongue over your teeth, trying to hide your frustration — at him, yes, but also at yourself. You should have known that after sneaking off this morning he’d be watching you even more closely. If you’d have stayed put, maybe you could have gained his trust enough to search the palace on your own. Now, you’d only made everything harder for yourself. There was no way he trusted you before, but he sure in the Seven Hells didn’t trust you now. You should have known better than this. You had to be better than this. You felt tears burn behind your eyes and you struggled to keep ahold of yourself.

He cocked his head, looking at you more closely now, as if he could see beneath your skin if he tried hard enough. You avoided his gaze, watching the trees swaying outside through a nearby window until you were sure your voice wouldn’t crack when you spoke.

You tried to turn the tables on him Instead of trying to defend your own actions, and muttered, “that wasn’t very nice of you.”

He seemed to find that funny, his intense stare breaking as he pushed off the wall and approached with slow, lazy steps, “and what were you about to do, sweetheart?”

You took in a deep breath; pasted on a coy smile. You had to calm down and get your act together if you wanted to get through this. And you were going to get through this. For yourself. For Nat. You had no other choice.

You closed the door behind you.

“Find you, of course,” you replied sweetly.

His head dipped in a slow nod, lips pursed as if he was trying to fight a smile. You didn’t for a second think that he believed me.

“Well, sweetheart, you found me,” he crooned.

You couldn’t fake any kind of enthusiasm, the words dry when you said, “lucky me.”

“Lucky me,” he countered, lips curling into a wicked grin. His eyes were bright and taunting as if he was winning a game you weren’t aware you were playing, “and now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do about it?”

His voice had dropped so that his question sounded like a dare, words laced with danger and promises of something more. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten now that he was leaning against your doorframe. You looked up haughtily, holding his gaze as you searched for something to say in return, but you had nothing. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and raised a brow, that insufferable smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Annoyed and all too aware of how close he was standing, you snorted and pushed past him. It wasn’t the most elegant or articulate, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Anything I should know about this party thingy?” you asked, hoping you could get back onto solid footing with some distance and a neutral question.

He was silent as he strolled beside you and you had to look up at him to make sure he’d heard. The only reason you didn’t repeat the question was the pinched look on his face and the way he began by saying, “I won’t lie to you,”

You stopped short, your hands on your hips. He paused and turned. When you didn’t back down, he nodded as if he’d just remembered lying to you less than an hour ago.

“Not about this,” he explained, though you weren’t comforted in the slightest by his answer. He was obviously comfortable lying to you and seemed to have it in mind that he would need to. Obviously, as king, he wasn’t going to tell you most things, but you wondered what that meant for your fate and Nat’s.

You kept walking, not wanting to get distracted and make a big deal about something you couldn’t change. For now. You motioned for him to go on.

“The council isn’t going to like you,” he replied bluntly, “they’re all part of the generation that burned down the temples of the old gods and almost half supported the discoveries that led to the war on purity.”

You closed your eyes for a few steps and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. Several decades before Hayle inherited the throne, Dark Elf scholars from Alfhiem discovered that magic flowed through the Nine Realms like currents in a massive loop of energy. They had found that the each specific mutation that differentiated the races attracted certain currents of energy and allowed those mutation to interact with and manipulate the magic of the currents. Humans couldn’t interact with any.

Then, when Odin later took the throne, a human scholar named Brock Rumlow was found guilty of capturing and testing on as many of the other races as he could get his hands on to try and imitate the mutations to give himself more power. Odin had taken the opportunity to turn as many of the other realms as he could against humans, burning the temples the humans had built when they had believed the magic had come from the gods. They had set out to eradicate the ‘lesser race’ — humans who had no power and would inevitably try to steal everyone else’s. Anyone who had sided with Odin despised humans and were a threat to them, even hundreds of years after they had lost the war on purity.

You were in more danger here than you’d realized.

“Great,” you muttered. Then a terrifying thought occurred to you that he might actually agree with them, “if they’re part of your council, why haven’t you gotten rid of them?”

He looked down at me in surprise, “kill them?”

“Kick them off the council,” you snapped, “you were king for at least a little while. You could have changed that.”

You stopped yourself from saying that he should have changed it. The actions of one human should not have been enough to condemn the entire race for future generations and every other race that had sided with them. But you should have known when Asgard had abandoned everyone good in the war that they didn’t care for anyone other than themselves.

Loki remained silent as a beautiful Fey woman crossed you in the hallway and nodded politely as she walked past. Her eyes lingered on you and the space between you and Loki so you stepped a little closer to him as you walked, your shoulders practically touching. When you were certain she couldn’t see you anymore, you stepped away from him, afraid he could feel your anger radiating off you in waves.

“Their positions are for life,” he said with a shrug, “and unfortunately, that’s a long time.”

“Unfortunate,” you scoffed, then muttered, “maybe you should have considered the first option gave you.”

His steps faltered slightly, “I beg your pardon?”

You knew he’d heard with his Fey hearing.

“Nothing,” you chirped.

He looked at you warily before continuing, scanning your body from head to toe as if he was looking for the dagger you’d pulled on him the day before.

“Thankfully, the head of the court is impartial,” he finally said when he seemed satisfied you weren’t going to try anything, “and the ultimate decision is his. My advice to you is to ignore the rest of them and focus on making this convincing.”

You nodded. His plan made sense, but there was so much that wasn’t on your side simply because you were human. If this was a fight, you were starting it blindfolded and with a hand tied behind your back. You clenched your teeth, frustrated. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention how desolate our situation was before you’d agreed to it. Though you hadn’t really agreed to it. It would be a long time before you forgot the way he’d casually threatened your life and the pain he’d caused last night.  

“If you knew all this, then why in the Seven Hells did you drag me into this?” you snarled, unable to keep the emotion from your voice, “wouldn’t it have been easier to use someone who was Fey? I’m sure Valkyrie would have been available.”

You weren’t sure why you’d called out the seamstress, but now that you had, you wouldn’t mind him explaining some of the million secrets you knew they were both keeping from you.

He didn’t seemed fazed by your outburst, his face almost more impassive than it was before, “easier maybe, but it would have been too obvious. The fact that you’re so unexpected makes it the most believable.”

Your anger was dropped to a simmer for a moment when you wondered what he meant by ‘too obvious’. What kind of past was between them? Maybe something was still there and this whole situation was coming between them. Maybe your deal was ruining a perfectly decent relationship. You decided you didn’t care. You weren’t here to become invested in their lives. You had other — more important — things to worry about.

“This hallway leads to the council’s banquet hall,” he continued once he realized that you weren’t going to say anything else on the subject, “if ever I’m not here to escort you, this is the easiest way to get from our rooms to the hall.”

“There are other ways?” you asked, thinking that the better you knew the layout of the palace, the better your chances were of finding the Hand.

He glanced at you side-long, wary of your question. With reason, but you weren’t about to confirm that.

“I mean, what if I’m not coming from my room,” you supplied, hurrying along.

“You can always ask for help,” he said. His face took on a serious quality that you hadn’t seen on him before, “the walls have ears here. Unless you’re in your room, know that I’ll be able to hear you if you’d like help.”

You didn’t know what to think about that. You’d been talking pretty freely about your deal, even though it had been in hushed tones most of the time. But that meant that whatever you said could be overheard by anyone. You were going to have to be even more careful than you’d first thought.

He nodded as if he could read your mind and honestly, with the minute demonstrations of magic you’d seen so far, you weren’t sure he couldn’t. You didn’t know anything about Fey magic and because of it, you were even more at a disadvantage. If you were going to have to spend a few moons here then you were going to have to learn more about it. Maybe even put your pride aside and ask him about it.

“Do you think you can make it convincing in there, sweetheart?” he asked, pausing a few steps away from a set of double doors. You’d been so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized you were already at the banquet hall.

“YN,” you grumbled, “and I think I can manage.”

“Good. Then I think we should hold hands,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, though you were glad he’d had the decency to accept your terms and ask you first.

“How romantic. And original,” you laughed, though there was no humour in the sound, “did you come up with that all on your own, prince?”

“You did want a heads up,” he ran a hand through his hair, “and funny thing is sweetheart, love isn’t original. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Never been in love?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” he kept his eyes on the door ahead, not giving anything away, his voice steady when he asked, “have you?”

A crazy kind of laughter bubbled in your chest at the irony and impossibility of your situation. Afraid it would turn into full blown panic, you managed to push it far enough down to say, “no. Looks like we’re perfect for this.”  

He rocked back on his heels, the corner of his mouth barely twitching upward, “I knew there was a reason I chose you.”

“I broke into your palace, I don’t think that counts,” you scoffed.

He offered his hand, “I let you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, prince,” you said, your frustration back as if it had never left. You tried to ignore that familiar itch blooming at your tailbone, “you people are so overconfident and arrogant that anyone with half a brain could break into this place.”

“And yet, here you are,” he pointed out, that infuriating smirk growing.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands tightly against your body to hide your growing temper, “not because of your charm.”

He leaned in close, lips almost touching your ear when he whispered, “you’re no peach either, my queen.”

“At least I’m not a spoiled brat who coerces helpless humans into miserable bargains,” you whispered back, head snapping to face him and your composure slipping away faster than usual. We were so close now your noses were practically touching and you made sure to take a step away from him.

He shook his head and you felt a shimmer of magic surround you like a bubble. You looked around as if you could physically see it, but obviously nothing was there.  When you looked back at him, Loki’s eyes were ablaze.

“Like you’re helpless, YN. You obviously don’t like me and that’s fine, but don’t think for a second that I’m clueless. You can fool them, sweetheart, but not me.”

You let out another humourless laugh, easing the pressure in your chest slightly, “and there’s that overconfidence and arrogance I was just talking about.”

“Are there any other insights about me you would like to share?” he asked, that bored expression quickly replacing any sort of emotion you might have seen on his face.

“Not right now,” you snapped.

He huffed a sigh, “then we should go in.”

You took his hand. It was a rough, warrior’s, easily engulfing yours.

He smirked.

“Shut up,” you growled, tempted to rip your hand away, “this is a necessity.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out, though there was no doubt in your mind that he knew exactly what he’d done to get under your skin so easily. Just the thought infuriated you more.

“This is never going to work,” you muttered.

He paused, voice taunting when he said, “not with that attitude it won’t.”

It took all of your restraint not to punch him in the arm with your free hand. He was so cavalier about all of this that you had trouble believing he took any of it seriously. How were you supposed to get the book when this was over when his vanity seemed to take precedence over everything else? He raised your hands and placed a slow kiss on yours, his intense gaze never leaving you. You glared at him and could feel his lips twist into a smile on your skin. Before you could snap at him for being an arrogant prick, he pushed open the doors and was on the move again, tugging you along with him. You did your best to keep up with his long strides through the smaller hallway that led to fancy looking doors at the end. You didn’t know if you were late or it if it was you dreading the party, but it felt like he’d picked up the pace.

You kept repeating to yourself that the walls had ears and that you had a job to do. You had Nat’s face etched into your mind — the sheer panic, wide eyes and gaunt face of the day the two of you had gotten captured. You had to get her out. You had to. Which meant that you couldn’t go around hating the man you were supposed to love. At least, not blatantly you couldn’t.

“I couldn’t be happier than to be here with you in this moment, Loki,” you said as you approached the doors that looked even more impressive up close, “there’s no one else I’d ever want at my side.”

He stopped with his hand on the door and looked over at you with a curious, but slightly amused expression on his face. He leaned over so that his shoulder barely brushed up against yours and said, “commendable attempt, sweetheart, but you might want to remind your face of your intentions if you want anyone to believe it.”

Then he pulled you into the room with him before you could say anything else. You did your best to wipe the scowl from your face. It wasn’t easy to do when this was the last place you wanted to be, but every pair of eyes were on you so you had no choice. And there were a lot of them.

The banquet hall was filled with Fey in elegant evening wear, male and female alike, all dissecting you as if you’d intruded on their private event. The room was smaller than you thought it would be, though it still had high arched ceilings, wide stained glass windows and a long table set up in the back with an impressive spread of food. A quick scan of the crowd gave you the impression that there were almost fifty Fey here but not one friendly face among them. Your legs suddenly felt like jelly and you were surprised you were somehow still standing.

Loki looked down at you and raised a brow. It was a silent challenge as if he thought you were intimidated by his court — that you couldn’t keep up. The arrogant look reignited the furry that had been doused by the judging stares and brought you back to your senses fast enough that you didn’t stumble after Loki when he walked you toward the centre of the party. Because of course you were going to the centre of it. Where else would you go?

“Nice to see everyone,” he began, shooting them all courtly smiles, though he lingered slightly longer on the five men who stood a few steps apart from the others. Their tunics looked similar to most of the other men, but you could tell their designs were more carefully tailored for their bodies and the fabrics better suited for the cut of the shirt and pants they wore. These men exuded power and confidence, and you could only assume that they were the council members that you were supposed to impress.

But the council of stuffy old men that you’d been expecting was nowhere to be seen. Only two of them appeared to be over the age of fifty, all the other in their early thirties at most — though you didn’t doubt that most of them were at least a few generations of humans old. All were Fey, and objectively speaking, all of them were quite handsome. Their looks were sharp and angular, traditional of the Fey and alluring in the way that they were surrounded by an air of magic. But the moment you looked into their eyes you knew you didn’t want to be in the room with them any longer than you had to. These men might not have been cruel at the beginning of their lives, but any kindness that might have once lived within them was long gone. And judging by the way their lips puckered in disgust, Loki had undersold their hatred for humans. You didn’t know if Asgard had ever had a human queen before the war, but you’d been warned they weren’t keen on it now. You just hadn’t been ready for them to look at you with more disgust on their faces than most of the people in Odin’s realm did — that was, those who bothered to look at you at all.

“We didn’t realize you were back from your travels, prince Loki,” the Fey man in the middle sneered.

“I arrived yesterday, Tywin” Loki replied curtly, his face impassive as he ignored the jab, “my court was aware.”

You tried not to stare back and forth between the councilmen and Loki. You had assumed that the council and his court were interchangeable, but obviously if they had been, these men would have been aware of his return — his return from where though? And if he had arrived yesterday, then you’d gotten to Asgard not long after he had. Maybe if you’d gotten here sooner you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess…Regardless, you couldn’t help but wonder if your arrivals were a coincidence or if there was something more going on to this whole situation than just a fight for his crown? There had to be a million things he wasn’t telling you, but would any of those things affect your end of the bargain? There were too may questions you didn’t know the answers to and you had to keep your face neutral before your rising worry ruined your scheme and your chances of getting the Hand before it even started.

“And who is this human you’ve brought with you?” Tywin asked, never once giving you any of his attention. He spoke the word as if you were a shameful object Loki had brought with him to use to taunt the council rather than a living, breathing, conscious being.

Loki lolled his head to the side, shooting you a lazy look you took as a signal to answer the Fey’s questions.

You lifted your chin, staring them all down one by one, and spoke slowly, pronouncing each syllable clearly just to make sure they got it, “YN YLN.”

The man’s lip curled, but he didn’t get a chance to speak.

“She will be my queen,” Loki declared.

There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice. It didn’t matter that he needed their approval to take the throne or that they had clearly pointed out that the title no longer belonged to him, he was above these people. They answered to him. Even masked by the bored look on his face, the authority in his voice was so strong, you found yourself believing it. And judging by the frustration on their faces, they did too — even if it was begrudgingly.

“We’ll discuss the technical aspects later,” he decided, his tone suddenly flippant as if he hadn’t just commanded the whole room into silence, “tonight is not meant for business.

He cut through the middle of the crowd and led you to the banquet table at the back of the room, dismissing the rest of the council. The silence lingered and followed you to the table, but slowly, the chatter began again, taking on a life of its own. You let out a since once the music had started again and their gazes were no longer boring into your back. Loki let go of your hand and offered you drink.

You must have looked at the pale red liquid suspiciously because he said, “it’s safe for humans.”

You hated that he seemed to be able to read your expressions so easily.

You grabbed the flute form his hands, the liquid sloshing in the glass before you downed it in a few quick gulps. The taste was sharp and not overly sweet, and went down smoothly. Which meant you had to be careful. You were human. Although your abilities would inherently handle the liquor better than most humans, that was what you were at the moment. Human. One too many drinks and you might do something incredibly stupid.

“Don’t look too pleased to be here,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. You thought it looked like he wanted to tear his hair out, but the look flashed by so quickly you were pretty sure you’d imagined it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. The arrogance on his made you sure that you had.

He handed you another drink, “try not to spill this one.”

“I hate this place,” you whispered.

“Mingle,” he whispered back, “then you can leave.”

You blew him a kiss and stomped off. It was a pitiful attempt at love and you knew it. You needed to do a better job at pretending to be his queen, knowing that if you didn’t, you would never forgive yourself. But of course, the things you knew and the things you did rarely matched up. It was the reason you were a human stuck in this stupid mess in the first place.

Loki stared at you from across the room but didn’t approach. You tried to keep from rubbing your temples. You’d been in Asgard less than a day and you were already exhausted. You chalked it up to stress, not wanting to admit to yourself what the real was and rolled your shoulders back. You smiled at a passing Fey woman. She smiled back. There. That wasn’t so bad. You had a job to do. Loki wanted convincing? You were going to make it so damned convincing he was going to let you spend the whole day sleeping in tomorrow. You tried not to grind your teeth at the thought that you still needed someone to ‘let you’ do whatever you wanted. You down your drink, set it on the table and grabbed two more from a passing waiter. Once you got this done, you wouldn’t need anyone to let you do anything. You were going to be free again. Nat was going to be free. You could this. You spotted Loki across the room and off you went. You could do this.

Only you didn’t get far. A member of the council stopped you with a hand clamped around your arm. You flinched at the vice-grip. If the Fey man noticed your discomfort, it didn’t bother him enough to let go.

“You’re quite pretty for a human,” he leered, drawing you closer.

He was the youngest of the council members by far, looking about Loki’s age. His sand coloured hair was cut short and styled in a way that showcased his pointed ears and accentuated his ocean blue eyes. He was tall and square, holding himself like a warrior. You didn’t doubt he was one. Nothing about him was kind. Everything was rough looking. The humans had a myth that the other races were all carved from stone by the gods and brought to life through their immortal breath, but this Fey looked like they’d forgotten to polish him off, the lines around his eyes harsh and unfeeling.

It took all of your restraint not to shove him off, only the thought of Nat fending off jerks like this in Flaik keeping your anger in check. You were trained for this. That training might have been buried deep beneath hundreds of years of memories but it was there and it was time you dug it back up and used it.

You patted his arm, your cheeks forced into a smile, “interesting that a man such as yourself would say that.”

HIs lip curled in disgust as if he was insulted you hadn’t swooned over his pathetic excuse of an insult, “why’s that?”

“Because I thought the Fey were supposed to have perfect eyesight. Quite pretty doesn’t cut it for your future queen” you ripped your arm out of his grasp and strode off to where you’d last seen Loki, but he wasn’t there.

Great. Of course he’d left you to fend off these vultures yourself. One day you were going to punch him and you weren’t going to be sorry about it.

“Nicely done,” Loki whispered, standing so close you were practically touching.

You almost jumped out of your skin. You had no clue where he’d come from.

“Don’t patronize me,” you snapped, shoving one of the two glasses at him,  “I don’t need it.”

He peered down at you, but didn’t try and defend himself, “understandable, but you may want my advice. If you can avoid Helio, do. He might be the youngest on the council but that doesn’t mean he’s any better than the rest of them.”

You snorted, “nice court you’ve got here, prince.”

“It’s a lifetime position, remember?” he said, nodding politely to the guests as you walked along the fringes of the party.

You knew he’d told you that before, but this time you deflated, feeling like you’d agreed to a situation that kept getting far more hopeless that you’d realized. He stopped and gave you a little shrug like he knew exactly how you were feeling. For once, there was nothing condescending in his expression and he genuinely seemed to understand. Maybe he did. He needed this to work too. But then again, maybe he didn’t. He was only loosing a title and not the person he loved most in this world.

He extended his hand. You tried to control the jittery feeling that was spreading through your limbs and through your body, making your breaths more and more shallow. Instead, you tried to focus on the fact that what you were doing wasn’t impossible. Improbable, yes, but not impossible. It would only become impossible if you didn’t take his hand and work with him. You didn’t have to like him. Seven hells, you didn’t even have to trust him. All you had to do was stop letting every little thing discourage you and do this with both feet in. You’d find a way to get the hand. You and Nat had gotten through worse. This time would’t be different. It couldn’t be.

You took his arm instead and stood a little closer for effect. The gesture put a little smile on his face. It was the perfect look to convince the council he was besotted and you knew you should do the same. Remembering the lessons from your childhood, you smoothed out the tension you knew must be on your face and told yourself that you hadn’t messed anything up yet. You were human in a Fey’s realm. It was only natural to be a little tense. You could play the part. You could lie just as well as he could.

“What’s the goal tonight?” you asked, voice low so that you wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention from the fey stealing glances at you.

His face was pleasant when he said, “I just need you to be seen.”

“With you?” you tried to clarify, a little put off by the way his tone didn’t match the look on his face.

“No. Just seen,” he brushed back your hair, leaning in so close that you shivered when his lips brushed against your ear, “I don’t trust any of them,” he whispered, “and neither should you.”

You wanted him to say more, but you understood enough to know that making sure you were seen by all the council was a failsafe to make sure nothing happened to you. If they all knew who you were and what you looked like, none of them could claim ignorance if you were kicked out of the palace — or worse. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Yesterday he had made your deal seem like a piece of cake. Now you were sure he’d lied. Only the worry that your life might be on the line kept you from lashing out in anger.

“If I die, you don’t get to be king,” you reminded him through clenched teeth.

Loki backed off slowly, his movements measured and controlled, “if you died, I couldn’t imagine ever being sane enough to properly rule a kingdom.”

His words were a subtle reminder that despite your distance and the noise in the room, everyone here had Fey hearing and could listen in if they really wanted to — and they probably did. You mentally slapped yourself. You were going to have to start thinking before you spoke.

“Your words are too sweet,” you said, shooting him a pointed look, “but you’re far too strong to lose your sanity over  a human, especially that our love will live on for far long than I will.”

He seemed to realize his mistake and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You narrowed your eyes at him and he shrugged with a little smirk.

“It is your everlasting love that will make me the best king I could possibly be,” he looked like he was enjoying himself far too much and you waited warily for his next words, “after all, sweetheart, I know you’d scale any building for me.”

You placed your hand on your heart for effect. It was better than punching his arm.

“And yet your love is so irresistible, it’s almost as if I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” you shot back.

He grinned.

“Aren’t you two sweet,” a male voice sneered.

You almost groaned. This had to be another councilman. Loki smirked and mouthed tell it to your face before he turned so that you were facing a man who resembled a boulder both in shape and wit. You were glad it wasn’t Helio again, but this one didn’t seem much better. Still, you managed somewhat a decent smile.

He didn’t wait for either of you to speak before continuing.

“I’d heard a rumour a few moons ago that we were going to have two kings instead of a king and a queen rule Asgard this time. But I don’t know where such a rumour could have come from, especially that you two have known each other for…” he was waiting for an answer, looking between you with a smug grin. You doubted he could have made it more obvious that he was hoping to catch you in a lie because these people didn’t believe you were in love. Whether that was because you were human or because you weren’t the right sex, you were no longer sure. You snuggled even closer to Loki and looked up at him with an expression on your face that you hoped showed nothing other than love.

Loki licked his lips, teeth scraping against his lower lip as he tried to hold back laughter. Your gaze inadvertently dropped to his mouth for too long before you looked back up into his bright eyes. Judging by the strange expression on his face, you weren’t doing a very good job at conveying love, which only made it harder not to scowl.

“Every day I learn something new about her,” Loki crooned, “it feels like we keep meeting over and over…like we just met yesterday.”

There was a victorious little glint in his eyes that you hoped the councilman interpreted as love. All you saw was a challenge to keep up.

You widened your grin, partly afraid it might look a little crazy but going with it anyways, “and yet, at the same time it feels like we’ve known each other for an eternity. I can’t remember what it was like not knowing him.”

You both turned back to face the Fey man and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see beneath the act. You tried to snuggle in a little closer, but with Loki’s hands in his pockets, there wasn’t much more you could do to get closer. He seemed to realize that in the way he stiffened slightly, but neither of you moved, afraid too much fidgeting would make the councilman see something he wouldn’t have otherwise found.

You were afraid the Fey could hear your heart pounding and you waited for him to say something. Finally, it was Loki who spoke instead.

“YN, I would like you to meet councilman Lucius Bonnefort. Lucius, meet your future queen.”  

Lucius grit his teeth. He hadn’t been given a command, but the order from his king was clear. He was to treat you with the respect of any other Fey here. Loki raised a brow, waiting. It looked like Lucius might turn his teeth to dust he was gritting them so hard.

“Pleasure,” was all he muttered before sulking off.

You looked up at Loki and found a frigid expression on his face. His council may have been challenging him but at least they still respected him. The harsh lines on Loki’s face didn’t soften. Maybe it wasn’t respect. Maybe it was fear. You’d gotten a glimpse of his power last night that you didn’t want to relive. Maybe they knew better than to cross their king.

You strolled and mingled with some of the other party guests, but none of the other council members came to see you. It was clear they wanted nothing to do with the two of you, and although Lucius seemed to have bought your answer, you weren’t convinced any of them bought your act. It wasn’t like they wanted to, so why would they? The two of you standing close together wasn’t going to change any of that.

You stopped yourself from rubbing your eyes, trying not to let show how discouraged you were becoming. You’d never been in love. You’d never even had a serious relationship or anything that lasted longer than a couple nights. If this was going to work, you had to think. You couldn’t rely on your own experiences to get you through this. You needed something big. Something that would convince them, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were at least a real couple.

You glanced around the room, looking at all the people who refused to make eye contact with you. As much as you hated it, you needed them to look at you. And you needed to make sure that you did something big when they did. An idea began to take shape in your mind. You didn’t like it, but you were pretty sure it would work.

“Mind if I break one of our rules?” you whispered as softly as you could, catching Loki’s attention.

He leaned back, an amused look on his face. The dip of his head was barely visible but enough to give you the go ahead. You took the drink from his hand and grabbed a knife off the table behind him. Loki observed every movement curiously, no longer seeming quite so bored with the event. You gently tapped the knife against the glass, the hollow ringing echoing throughout the room. It wasn’t hard to get everyone’s attention when more than half of them had been stealing glances at you all evening. You placed the knife gently on the table and you free hand fluttered up instinctively to the pendent resting under your shirt. The weight of it was a strangely comforting reminder that what you were about to do was for the right reasons.

“Hello everyone,” you cleared your throat, hating the way your voice trembled, “I know a toast is a bit of a human tradition, but I was hoping, since I intend to be your queen in a few short moons, that I could say hello with a little tradition of my own. I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been meeting all of you and I hope to get to know you better in the future. I love Loki more than any of you can imagine, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life here!”

The speech was premature and overconfident at best, but it wasn’t only a statement to prove that you be queen, it was also a message to Loki. You might have gotten caught off guard when you’d broken into the palace, but you were going to walk away with the Hand. You could play these games better than anyone here. You had no choice to, and you had the skills to prove it.

The tentative clapping wasn’t even done when you turned around, placed your drink on the table, grabbed Loki by the face and pulled him in for a kiss. He stiffened under your touch, lips frozen in place. You panicked. What did you just do? You were about to pull away and try to come up with a credible excuse for what had just happened when finally, his hands slipped around your waist and he pulled you closer, kissing you back. You melted into his touch. His lips were soft and gentle, and he let you lead the kiss until you pulled away slowly. You stared into his eyes, not quite sure that you’d actually done that. Loki didn’t say anything, his body oddly stiff. You couldn’t read his expression so you stepped back, his hands lingering a little longer before he let go.  Unnerved by this strange version of Loki, you bopped him on the nose with the tip of your finger, surprising yourself with the gesture. His eyes narrowed but you only grinned, taking your little victories where you could get them.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening!” you announced, reaching around him for you glass and raising it.

You were met with a few wide eyes and bewildered looks, but thankfully, everyone raised their glasses and took a sip. You nodded and smiled, meeting a few eyes before turning back to face Loki. His courtly smile masked whatever he was feeling, and you had no idea whether he was furious or not. He extended an arm. You took it but you didn’t know what to think.

This time, as you walked through the party, you got a few smiles and a few nice to meet yous. You shot a winning smile to a fey man as you passed. Not sure what to do with it, he immediately looked away, flustered. The reaction eased some of the pressure on your chest, but you knew the party was far from over. And judging by the way Loki was deathly silent, you were also going to have to contend with him later. He pulled you into a dark alcove at the far end of the banquet hall, the sounds of the party falling away. Apparently he thought sooner was better than later.

“So that’s how we’re doing this?” he demanded.

You had to crane your neck to look up at him you were so close, your chests practically touching. His eyes were emeralds on fire, and with the ghost of that fake smile still on his lips, the effect was terrifying. Despite the number of the drinks you’d downed, you were aware enough to be wary of it.

“I warned you first,” you blurted out. Hating how defensive you sounded, you took a deep, steadying breath but the way it closed the distance between you did nothing to calm your nerves. If anything, it was almost as if your magics were creating an electric current between your bodies. You didn’t know if he could feel it so you ignored it, “I made the right call. Look at them.”

He learned over you to see around the corner, looking at the crowd who was still talking about your little toast. He smelled like mint and summer nights and you tried not to breathe in the pleasant scent.

He settled back into the alcove and raised a brow, “all for the greater good, right sweetheart?”

The words were spoken like a threat rather than an observation, dangerous and cunning. You swallowed, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into. Actually, you knew what you’d gotten yourself into and you were doing a damned good job of it. If he thought he could intimidate you out of doing your job and securing the Hand then he was very well mistaken.

You jut your chin up, your faces inches away now, “exactly. Maybe you should keep up Prince Loki.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek. You mimicked his arrogant brow lift, waning for an answer. He said nothing, leaning in even closer. Your breath hitched and you wondered if he was going to kiss you just to spite you.

“If you’re going to make this a competition,” he whispered with a wolfish glint in his eyes, “then I’m willing to play, sweetheart.”

He pulled you out of the alcove before you had a chance to reply. You didn’t know if you’d just made things harder for yourself, but you’d definitely made them more interesting. Though you weren’t sure more interesting was what you needed.

The crowd parted for you as Loki cut across the room and you cursed your short legs for having so much trouble keeping up. He led you toward the only Fey here who actually looked like an old man. His sharp cheekbones and tight skin had gone soft and wrinkly, and the long hair cascading down past his shoulders was as white as his long beard, both of which resembled the frozen landscape of Niflheim. The fey looked thoughtfully between the two of you as you came to a stop in front of him, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“You two are certainly something,” the fey said.

“That’s love,” you gushed, taking the lead on the situation.

Loki placed a quick kiss to your temple before making the introductions. The fey was Eamon Loveless, the head councilman and the one who would have the final say on your relationship. For some reason, probably to get back at you, Loki had brought you to the most important person in the room. You straightened. You could do this.

“Prince Loki,” Eamon was looking at you when he spoke, “I must say, when you told us you’d found your future queen, I hadn’t been expecting Miss YLN. You hadn’t quite painted a clear picture.”

You weren’t sure what Eamon was accusing him of, but Loki didn’t look worried. With his hands still in his pockets as if he couldn’t be bothered to take them out, he gave a little shrug.

“I didn’t want to influence your opinion before meeting her,” Loki explained, “but I imagine you could only have been pleasantly surprised.”

Eamon smiled, “I’m glad you’ve found someone else who makes you happy.”

Loki’s arms tightened at his side, squishing your arm in between his. Any more and it would hurt. You tried not to look up at him in surprise. There had been someone else? Who? When? Immediately, Valkyrie flashed through your mind.

“YN is magnificent,” he grit out, obviously affected by the comment.

Suddenly, the two of you were too stiff. Too awkward. You tried for a fond smile. Eamon’s expression never changed so you weren’t sure if you’d achieved it or not. You felt the panic begin to rise. Where was the Loki who had lied so easily to Valkyrie? Where was the king who’d commanded the room? Where was the prick who’s taunted you seconds ago? The silence was dragging on and you had to fight the urge to fill it with useless babbling. Instead, you lifted Loki’s hand from his pocket and interlaced your hands, giving yourself time to think.

“He’s too kind,” you finally said, addressing Eamon, “it was his kindness that first attracted me to him.”

“And how did you meet?” he asked.

Your heart flipped in your chest. You thought you had come up with something clever to fill the silence but really you’d just dug yourselves into an even deeper hole. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Snapping it shut, you let out a sharp breath that you hoped he misconstrued for a laugh. If this was a competition, then both of you were failing miserably.

“Why don’t you tell the story?” you asked, looking up at Loki.

He looked down at you, eyes glazed over and you weren’t sure he even saw you. You dug your nails into his hand. Hard. The pain must have snapped him out of whatever thoughts he’d been sucked into because that smug little grin returned. You’d never thought you’d actually be glad to see it.

“It feels like it was yesterday,” his eyes were bright as if he found himself amusing, “I was in Midgard visiting King Earl and she was a maid.”

“So he thought,” you interrupted, doing your best not to glare at him. At least he was out of whatever that was, even if it meant he was back to annoying you, “I was actually a soldier in the king’s guard and I knocked Loki flat on his ass for his mistake.”

The fey’s eyes widened. Loki chuckled. He didn’t seemed bothered by your comment. If anything, it looked more like he was warming up to the idea of your little competition.

“That was only because I was stunned by her incredible beauty,” he explained.

“And my skill apparently.”

You thought he was going to offer another counterpoint, but instead he nodded, “it’s all true. Though I must say, normally we’re more evenly matched.”

Eamon nodded slowly, dark eyes taking in everything, “and what happened next?”

“I asked her to dinner,” Loki answered simply and you thought that was going to be that, but he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily, “but she said no.”

“No?” Eamon asked, surprised.

By now your little story had gathered a small crowd and everyone was looking at you expectantly. The human who’d turned down the future king of Asgard. You couldn’t glare at Loki, fearing you’d give something away, but you knew he was grinning, watching you squirm. You’d told hm to keep up. You should’ve expected that a king would play to win.

You shrugged, “I didn’t think we’d have anything in common. And I was busy.”

The last comment earned a few chuckled from the crowd and you lifted your free hand, palm up, as if to say what could I do about it.

Loki took over, “the next time I went back to Midgard, she realized that maybe she’d been too hasty to turn me down, and she asked me to dinner instead.”

“When someone looks this good, how are you supposed to say no,” you laughed, lifting onto your toes and kissing him on the cheek, “and he was so eager, it was adorable. He said yes immediately.”

He turned and stared at you as if you were the only person in the room. You were caught off guard by the intensity of it and you couldn’t look away. It was a dangerous game you were playing. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. You smirked.

“Eventually, we did go to dinner and got to know each other better,” he continued, turning to face the ever growing crowd, “turns out we had a lot more in common that she originally thought.”

The crowd laughed at his callback and you almost sighed with relief. The councilmen might not have bought the act yet, but at least the other nobles were beginning to seem convinced.

“It wasn’t love at first sight,” you murmured, knowing you didn’t have to speak loudly for them to hear, “but I think it’s something so much better than that,”

He tilted his head and looked at you with that half smirk and a glint in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you almost would have thought he was impressed. You grinned, hoping your smug look of victory came across as loving. You were good at this, and most importantly, now he knew it too. Just because he needed a queen, didn’t mean he couldn’t easily replace you if this wasn’t working out. You weren’t going to give him any reason to change his mind.

The councilman’s face was still silent and impassive. All you could hear was the heavy beat of your heart as you waited to see if he’d bought any of it.

A gentle smile softened Eamon’s expression and you almost squeed Loki’s hand with relief.

“You two seem to complement each other quite nicely,” Eamon said, “almost as if you were fated to meet.”

This time your smile was genuine. The orange moon was still far away, but at least you were headed in the right direction to get Nat out of Niflheim. Loki let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. You tried not to be stiff, but it was hard when you were hyper aware of every place that your bodies connected. You’d never been affectionate, even with Nat, so you found yourself over analyzing your posture, wondering how credible you could really be. Loki on the other hand seemed completely at ease, fingers drawing little circles on your side.

“I’m positive you will like it here in Asgard, Miss YLN. Although I’m sure you must find our realm a little strange,” Eamon continued.

His words let you know you weren’t doing a very good job at masking your discomfort.

“I’m fine as long as Loki is here with me,” you tentatively rested your head on his shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“YN is fine no matter what,” Loki affirmed, “she’s the strongest person I know, fey and human alike.”

You wanted to scoff at such a lie, but it was cut short when you saw the admiration in everyone’s eyes, even the councilman. For some reason, Loki seemed to be able to sell love far better than you could and you looked up to see just what you were missing. His eyes were wide and filled with puppy-like innocence that didn’t at all suit the fey you’d met and spent time with. The crowd didn’t seem to agree. It was a good reminder of his skills as a liar and how little you could actually trust him.

“I must admit that I was worried when I saw that your future queen was human,” Eamon shot an apologetic smile your way, “but I must say that your confidence has inspired me, Prince Loki. I’m looking forward to seeing how both of you manage with your trials in the future.”

Loki tensed at your side, but you didn’t know why. Eamon’s words were a good thing. He wanted to see how you’d overcome obstacles in the future which meant that he wasn’t ready to kick you out of the palace just yet. That might have only made one council member, but you had to start somewhere.

“And we’ll do it with grace and dignity,” you beamed, your cheeks sore from all the fake smiling.

Eamon nodded and wished you a good rest of evening, and with that, the crowd seemed to disperse as well. You stepped out of Loki’s arms and walked off to the banquet table in search of food and a reason to stand facing the windows, desperate for a break in the whole act.

“I think that went well,” you murmured when you felt Loki walk up beside you.

“Not bad,” he agreed, “you’re almost as good at this as I am, sweetheart.”

You snorted, “better, prince. Better.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” he promised, “get ready. Here’s another councilman. Three down, two to go.”

You sighed and popped a small berry that looked like a grape into your mouth. You rolled back your shoulders.

“Ready.”

You both turned around at the same time, wide smiles on your faces.

“So that’s it then?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe to the banquet hall.

Your legs could barely keep you standing and you could feel the soft pulses of a headache coming on. The party was dwindling, but all of the council members were still mingling with the remaining guests. When you’d asked, Loki had said that he’d wanted to stay until they had all gone. All you wanted to do was eat a real meal and go to bed. If you could, you wanted to try and find the Hand first, but really, there was nothing you wanted more than food and sleep. But none of that mattered. You were stuck here.

“You look tired,” Loki remarked, but when you opened your eyes, he was scanning the crowd thoughtfully.

“Human,” you answered and hoped it was enough of an explanation that he wouldn’t press for the real reason.

“True,” he hummed, “I forget sometimes by the way you stare down the council as if you’re ready to fight them all at once. It’s not wonder none of the other guests were brave enough to approach.”

You were about to retort but realized he had a point. And you were too tired to say anything. You let your head fall back on to the wall and closed your eyes.

“I’ll work on it,” you muttered.

He didn’t say anything. Only when you opened your eyes a few moments later thinking maybe he’d left you standing alone did he say, “why don’t we head out?”

You pushed off the doorway, “yes.”

He chuckled and offered you an arm, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this enthusiastic.”

“Well, you’ve never threatened me with a good time before,” you took his arm, surprised by how familiar the gesture had already become.

“And what do you think I’m offering you now?” he asked.

“A meal and a bed, hopefully.”

He raised a brow.

You smacked his arm, “not yours.”

“So yours then,” he smirked.

You smacked him again or good measure.

“We’re not saying goodbye?” you asked when you noticed you were headed away from the party.

“We can always turn back.”

You pulled him along, “don’t you dare.”

Loki slowed his stride and let YN set the pace. She looked exhausted and he felt bad for not having realized sooner the extent of what he’d asked of her. He should have warned her earlier about the councilmen or at least given her more information about what she was going to expect but he’d been too afraid she’d decide the Hand wasn’t worth it and leave him stranded. And despite all that, she’d done amazing in there. She’d even made a party with the council bearable, which was something he didn’t think he’d ever say. It didn’t matter that she’d made her stance on the whole situation very clear by glaring at him every chance she got, the crowd seemed to love her. Which was far more than he could saw of himself. As soon as Eamon had mentioned Cortese he’d frozen up, lost in memories. The only reason no one had questioned his behaviour was because YN had brought him back fast enough that it wasn’t too suspicious and the fact that he was king. Or used to be. If he didn’t start acting like he was in love, all the power in the world wouldn’t make him king of Asgard again. Hela had made sure of that.

Despite having a million other things to do tonight, he wanted nothing other than an early night and a peaceful sleep. But with Hela whispering in the council’s ear day and night, along with the imminent war Gamora had foreseen, Loki hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in moons.

He looked over at YN who’d been quiet since they’d left the hall. She’d done more than enough tonight. He didn’t have to drag her with him.

“YN?”

“Hmm?”

When he looked down at her, he realized her eyes were closed and that she was letting him guide her. Loki was only surprised for a moment before he remembered always seeing her with a glass in her hands. Obviously what she was feeling wasn’t trust.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

Her brows furrowed but her eyes still didn’t open, “when?”

“Right now.”

That got her attention.

“Eat and sleep,” she replied without thought.

She didn’t say it aloud, but Loki knew she also wanted to be alone. He could see it on her face and the way she’d let out a small sigh when they’d first walked into the silent hallway. He understood the need more than she could imagine.

“I can have dinner sent up to your room…or we can do something else if you prefer?” he added quickly when her face pinched into a strange expression he couldn’t read.

“No,” she blurted out and then stated more calmly, the first option’s fine. Are you joining?”

He shook his head, “only if you’d like me too.”

She seemed to hesitate, looking at the walls as if they physically had ears.

He saved her from having to find a clever way to turn him down, “actually, I have things to take care of tonight and I have to return to the banquet hall. Do you know the way back to your room?”

She nodded so quickly Loki almost laughed. She was a terrible liar. He didn’t know where the performance in the council room had come from, but he had no doubts she was lying to him now. The prospect of being on her own seemed to have rejuvenated her. She straightened, cricking her neck from side to side and scratching over her shoulder. She obviously wanted to take a look around — without him around of course.

“Explore or don’t,” he said, truly meaning it, “the council knows who you are now, so no one will kick you out of the palace if they see you snooping around.”

“Who says I’ll be snooping?” she yawned for effect, “I was planning on getting an early night.”

This time he couldn’t help but laugh, “sure. Goodnight YN. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Her face fell.

“Don’t worry, it’s only breakfast,” he reassured her, omitting the fact that they had a meeting after breakfast. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was no secret that she didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame her. He was lying and he didn’t trust her either.

“Only with you?” she clarified.

“Only with me,” he echoed.

That seemed to appease her and she was about to leave when something occurred to him. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She paused, “only if I can ask you one.”

“Fair enough,” he amended, “would you spar with me some time?”

Loki had been surprised when she’d said that she was a soldier and he was more than a little curious to know how many of her lies had been based in truth. She’d shut down all his earlier attempts at getting to know her better and he was certain she’d do her best to keep it that way. So he figured he would have to be more clever about it.

He was surprised, and pleased, when she nodded.

“I would like that.”

“Good,” he murmured, afraid that if he said anything else she might change her mind, “your turn.”

“What Lucius said about…” she didn’t finished her sentence but she didn’t have to. He knew what she was talking about.

“He likes to speak out of turn,” Loki paused, choosing his words carefully. There was no one else in the hallway, but this was information that his future queen should have already known, “some of the council members haven’t always been supportive of the fact that there was an equal chance that there could have been two kings on the throne or a king and a queen. Even if fate decided to bring you into my life, those council members still seem bitter about my personal preferences..

She nodded slowly, taking the information in. There wasn’t much other than a thoughtful expression on her face and Loki was relieved. This whole thing would have been finished if she had reacted any other way.

“Has there ever been two kings or two queens in Asgard?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he smirked, “but love is love. And in Asgard, that’s the only requirement. There’s nothing they could say or do about it.”

Her face softened and she took his hand. The gesture surprised him, even more so when she gave it a little squeeze, “as it should be. Goodnight prince.”

And then she walked off in the wrong direction.

When he pointed that out, she looked back over her shoulder, an innocent smile on her face that didn’t match the mischief in her eyes, “just taking a little detour, don’t worry about it.”

He was probably going to worry about it later, but he watched her walk away. He’d promised himself that he’d give her as much freedom as was safe for her and his realm. There was no way she’d find the Hand on her own, so he had to trust that she wasn’t really and threat and that she’d be safe after what he was about to do.

When he couldn’t hear her steps anymore, he turned back to the council room. No one reacted when he walked in.

Hela had made her move less than a moon ago, but the council had taken that opportunity whole-heartedly to remind him that he was no longer king. He was only a prince temporarily in charge of the realm, but he wasn’t going to lose his position. He refused to let his people fall into Hela’s hands. Loki had never wanted the crown, but now that he’d had it, he was going to make damn well sure that he kept it. His brother had asked for that much.

“Listen closely.”

Loki didn’t need to shout. His voice carried throughout the room, his tone reminding them that he had once been their king. And with reason. He was far more powerful than everyone in this room, even some of them combined.

“No one touches YN,” he warned, his words slow and deliberate. He found every set of eyes in the room, making sure they all felt seen, “she will be your future queen. There is no doubt about it in my mind. And she might not have a long lifespan, but I have a long memory. You will treat her with the same respect as you did my mother. You’ve been warned.”

He didn’t give them a chance to answer and walked back out of the room. Loki didn’t think any of them would go outright and kill her, but he knew enough of them were power hungry bigots to do something stupid. Thankfully, the council was still wary of him even if he wasn’t their king any more. He could rest easier knowing they’d been warned and his own court was keeping an eye on YN most of the time. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but he wasn’t going to lock her up or stop her from roaming the palace, even if it did cost him his title.  

He strode through the palace, not sure where he was heading and not sure what to do with himself. His whole body felt two sizes too small and he couldn’t shake the feeling. There were so many other things he had to do, but he couldn’t make himself decide on one. Only the thought of his bead was appealing, and even then, he was too restless to really consider it.

“I saw your queen,” Nebula said, falling into step beside him.

She was still dressed in her commanders uniform, dirt smudged over her eyebrow. She’d been sparring with the soldiers again. Not that he was surprised. She been so grumpy this morning that he pitied his army; though at least he knew they’d be prepared to face anything. There were very few things that were more terrifying than his commander when she was angry.

“Where was she?” he asked.

Nebula’s voice was clipped, her mood no better than it was this morning, “roaming the halls, looking incredibly suspicious.”

Loki threw up a magical sound bubble that would contain their voices. Knowing how suspicious it looked, he didn’t like to do it often, even if it was now the second time he’d done it today, but he knew she wasn’t about to let this go. Feeling the magic, she waited until it snapped into place.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a laugh, knowing that just because they couldn’t be heard didn’t mean they couldn’t be seen.

Nebula crossed her arms, keeping up with his long strides, “she wants the Hand, Loki.”

He waved away her worry, “it’s safe.”

“What makes you think she won’t get it?”

He shot her a look. They both knew who was guarding it. There was no way anyone was getting it — human or otherwise. His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her.

“Who says she’s not a spy?” she continued, her voice rising with irritation, “who says she’s not here for the book to give it to Hela? Who says we even have the right woman?”

Loki tried not to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nebula was right to be concerned; there was a reason he’d appointed her as commander. Still, he found himself saying with more confidence than he felt, “I wanted to know how to prevent Hela from winning over the crown and it gave me her name. She has to be the future queen.”

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe we need to kill her and not work with her?” Nebula demanded.

The words were harsh, but valid. Yet Loki knew Nebula wouldn’t actually go through with it. As far as they knew, YN was innocent, despite wanting the Hand. And he was sure she was an ally, not an enemy. He couldn’t explain why he was so certain, but he’d decided it the moment he’d met her. However, it wasn’t like he could explain that to Nebula. She would need something far more concrete than a gut feeling.

“You’re being rash,” she continued.

He realized she was steering them toward the kitchen and his stomach growled in anticipation. He wasn’t sure how she did it, or if she was even aware she was doing it, but Nebula had a way of knowing what was best for their court, even if her harsh demeanour didn’t always make it very evident.

“Says the woman who wants to kill the future queen,” he countered.

“She wouldn’t be the future queen if you had thought things through,” she growled, stopping him a hand to his chest, “we’re walking a thing line here, Loki.”

“I know that! But I needed to present my queen today and she showed up just in time. Don’t you think there’s something to that?” Loki’s voice was rising and his control was slipping. The bubble around them almost dropped in the burst of emotion.

She poked him in the chest, but she’d lost all bite at his outburst. They were both tired and running through this blind. Arguing wouldn’t help any of them see things clearer.

“We had a backup plan,” she murmured.

“You would have been miserable as queen,” he shot her a smile, “especially that you would have to admit that you find me incredibly attractive.”

She punched him on the arm, “I’m a good liar.”

“Very true,” he laughed, “but this is the best option, Nebula. Trust me.” Loki wasn’t sure that he trusted himself, but he had to believe he was doing the right thing. And if he wasn’t, at least he knew his court was there to help with his mistakes — and to make sure he never forgot them, “and I’ll stay on my guard with YN.”

She sighed reluctantly, but finally looked convinced, “okay.”

“Okay,” he changed the subject, “what have the citizens been saying?”

“They’ll fight if it comes to war again. I tried to reassure them that nothing was wrong and that we were just gathering information, but they know something’s coming. They can feel it,” Nebula shrugged, “Hela’s arrival’s made them all uneasy.”

He nodded slowly and sighed, “better they’re wary than oblivious.”

“They’d better be wary,” Nebula said with a printed look, “you have a human for a future queen and she was stupid enough to agree to the trials. You’d better hope you were right about what that thing meant when it gave you the word YN.”

Loki could only nod and let the magic bubble drop. He was about to follow her into the kitchen when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. The hallway was empty, but he could have sworn he’d seen something. He listened closely, waiting to see if whoever it was might give themselves away.

“Are you coming?” Nebula called from the kitchen.

He heard the banging of pots and decided he’d better go inside before she decided to start cooking and accidentally set the palace on fire. With one last look around, he walked into the kitchen.

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Carla’s CL Route: A Shin Fan’s Thoughts and Feelings

I have such mixed feelings on this route but I’m going to try and relay them as articulately as I can. Obligatory warning, this post contains massive spoilers for CL (mainly Carla’s route but i’m going to mention some of the other routes too). Now without further ado:

Before I delve into any of the issues I had with this route, let’s start with what I liked. Firstly, I think it’s safe to say that Carla hands down deals with the situation the best after he gets his memories back compared to the other routes I’ve played (Shin’s, Shu’s and Laito’s) and I would be very surprised if any of the other characters are able to handle things as well as he did (although admittedly that’s partly because he’s just so much more powerful than everyone else). I did like that the writers were able to show off how capable he can be, while still bringing up stuff like how it isn’t good at cleaning or cooking.

I liked the plot point about Carla being able to live without Endzeit if they stayed in the miniature garden as I thought it was an interesting concept.

I found it very interesting that Subaru was the only other character to regain his memories in this route, especially given that Carla actually played a role in his LE route which wasn’t the case for any of the other Sakamaki brothers in LE. I can’t help but wonder if the writers have them as a brotp when considering that they were also paired together in the Versus IV CDs. Regardless, I did enjoy seeing their interactions in Carla’s CL route.

The scenes between Carla and Yui after Carla gets his memory back are great and I’m sure Carla fans will have a field day with them.

Now, lets move onto to the issues I personally have with this route.

Because Carla is shown to be so capable, I never really felt fearful for the characters. In contrast, in Shin, Shu and Laito’s routes they all had moments of genuine peril outside of the bad endings, which meant I felt really concerned and was drawn into the story. Carla’s route however, went something like this: Oh no, how are they going to deal with this unexpected development? Ah wait, he solved it in an instant, as expected of Carla I suppose. Oh no, how are they going to deal with this other unexpected situation? Ah no nevermind, he dealt with it right away again... and so on.

This might just be personal preference, but in my opinion if you really want people to get invested in a story, there needs to be some element of risk for the characters (even if you know there’s going to be a good ending). If you take that away, even though the fluffy bits with Carla and Yui were lovely, every time we got to one of the more plot-orientated parts of the story, I’d start to get invested only for there to be no pay off as there never really seemed to be much of a problem in the first place. This is why you have to be a bit careful when coming up with characters to make sure that they have some sort of weakness, otherwise the audience knows they’re going to be fine whatever.

Yes Carla is undoubtedly the strongest of the boys when Karl’s powers aren’t involved (and especially when Endzeit is removed from the picture) but I still feel like there should have been something. We came a little close with Shin getting close to being killed by the Scarlet family but Carla took care of it so easily that it just felt a bit... I don’t know, flat maybe?

And now onto my biggest bugbear of the route: how they handled things with Shin. 

First things first, I am fully aware that I am incredibly biased here and Carla fans, you may see no issues with this route at all and honestly, good on you, I’m glad you enjoyed it, but hopefully after the end of this post you’ll at least understand why I was a little upset.

Things started off really well on this front, I loved the scene where Carla starts to remember things, Shin cuts his arm and then says that seeing Carla kneeling in front of him makes him feel frustrated for some reason. I was pleased when Carla and Yui went to rescue Shin (and by extension Ruki) when they were being attacked by the Scarlet family and the angst when Carla and Yui saw Shin treating Ruki as his big brother. But it then just... went nowhere (well in the Euphoria ending anyway, I’ll get onto that Labyrinth ending later).

The writers threw in some token lines from Shin in chapter 15 sure, but did he get his memories back before they returned to the real world? No. Did we get any sort of scene between Shin and Carla after Shin had gotten his memories back? No. In the route to achieve the Euphoria ending could Shin have stopped existing from about chapter 12 onwards and it wouldn’t have changed anything? Honestly, yes. 

I genuinely don’t think this would have bothered me so much had it not been for two things: 1) how much of a big deal trying to return Carla’s memories was in Shin’s route (although I would never have really expected anything else) and 2) the fact that all of this Shin and Carla angst was dangled in front of my nose only for there to be no pay off whatsoever.

I know this route is meant to ultimately be about Carla and Yui, not Carla and Shin’s brotherly relationship but I can’t help but feel cheated that the little Carla and Shin content we did get never amounted to anything. There was no heated discussion/argument between the two of them, there was no exciting climax where Shin tried to kill Carla because he still had his fake memories. Hell, we didn’t even get a token scene at the end where the brothers finally both had their memories back; Shin was unconscious for the conversation with Socrates and then he never comes up again.

My main point here is that I don’t think it was a good decision to include all these bits about Shin being important to Carla and then to not do anything with it in the climax of the good ending.

I acknowledge that there was no big climax in Laito’s route with the triplets either but at the very least Kanato and Ayato got their memories back and made sure that Shu and Reiji didn’t kill Subaru while Laito and Yui were trying to find a way out of the miniature garden. Shin didn’t even do that much.

Now as for labyrinth ending, oh boy where do I even begin. Putting aside the fact that Shin getting infected with Endzeit is literally the one thing I never want to happen in the franchise, I wasn’t a fan of it at all. Part of my reason for not being a fan of this ending comes back to my point about Shin playing such a small role in the Euphoria ending version of chapter 15 that he could have been replaced by a mop and I don’t think anyone would have noticed. 

However my biggest issue is that we get no information on what’s actually happened to him in that ending.

For anyone unfamiliar with that ending, in the Labyrinth version of chapter 15 Shin tries to kill Yui before they reach the church (as he still hasn’t got his memories back) but Carla protects her and gets stabbed. Shin gets covered in Carla’s blood and because his wounds from earlier in the route haven’t healed yet, they suspect he’s gotten infect with Endzeit. As a result, Yui and Carla decide to stay in the miniature garden where time is effectively frozen rather than return to the real world and have Shin potentially die from Endzeit.

The actual ending is just Yui and Carla talking about whether they’ve made the right decision. They say Shin hasn’t shown any signs of Endzeit but did he get his memory back? Are they just keeping him locked in the dungeons so he doesn’t try to murder them both? Who knows.

I can’t help but feel that it was very unfair to have Shin used as a bad ending plot device and then cut him out of that ending too. 

Also I am calling complete bullshit on that line about Carla being able to suppress his symptoms. I get that Rejet are probably trying to hint to his DF ending where Yui’s blood is magically able to hold off Endzeit symptoms (which was retconed for LE but might be thing again now apparently?) but then why was there any hesitation from Yui over going back to the real world versus staying with Carla in the minature garden??? Like this makes no sense at all. Either Carla is dying from Endzeit or he isn’t, you can’t pick and choose within the route itself depending on what’s convenient.

Anyway I’m starting to rant which isn’t good, so I’ll bring an end to this post here. 

Do I think the route has its good points? Yes, absolutely, I think Carla fans who enjoy his softer side will have a great time playing it. Do I personally have some very specific problems with it which are likely related to the identity of my favorite character? Again, yes.

Anyway I’d be interested to know if anyone agrees with me or if I am just a Shin-obsessed mad woman. I’m going to go and listen to one of Shin’s drama CDs or something while I go and calm down. Hope you’re having a good day and thanks for reading :)

[shatouto]

i have a sudden need to ramble (cw eating disorder ; repressed asexuality )

i used to think that this was because i am an artist since childhood: i genuinely can’t tell if a person is ‘hot’ if i just look at them. i can take notes on their features. i can find the shapes of their face interesting or uncommon. but i don’t get ‘hot’. i do find a person beautiful but only after i’ve known something about what they do, e.g. an actor who’s rly talented. if irl people, then i def only get crushes on ppl based on competency. (i have loved my childhood friends for years because he’s just so, so, soooo kind and sensitive and good at art and photography; i crushed horribly on this fellow actress in a theatre festival i participated in for One (1) week; i fell so hard for this girl in college who was AMAZING at giving dynamic presentations; then again for a boy who’s just rly adorably dedicated to the debate society he founded; etc. and all those time, it was more romantic than sexual.) i have never been able to articulate this and as a teen ive always felt confused and left out as hell when my friends gush over idols, all that. i briefly learned about demisexuality and thought that it fit quite well, but i didn’t look more into it out of some unexplained skepticism. generally i tried to conform; it took me a while to copy my surrounding’s reaction at conventionally attractive people to pretend i have the same capacity to perceive ‘hotness’, but the truth is i never really do.

it doesn’t help that my parents were horribly judgmental to other people’s looks and while they were polite on the outside, they were always making very mean remarks about their own friends behind their backs (i have trust issues for this reason; always worried my friends actually think im ugly and bad, like my parents do). they did that to my own friends as well, always criticizing even the friends of mine that they ‘approved’, especially this ex-best friend of mine who was fat and generally gender non-conforming - to the point where i was absolutely terrified of being anything like this person, even though they were my closest friend at the time. when this person came out as nb aroace, i was so frightened that i stopped contemplating demisexuality altogether. around that time also, i got sucked into the “anti-sjw” hole and i shut down every attempt at exploring my general non-conformity. in college, studying abroad and in a new environment, i berated myself for not being able to keep up with parties or ‘hook up’ the way my coevals could - i just felt very very sapped by those socializing activities. being alone in a crowd is tiring. somewhere amidst all this i went into a period of hyperfeminine presentation in hopes of grounding myself in conformity and also pleasing my parents - which gradually aggravated my deep-seated body image issues, dysmorphia, and finally full blown anorexia.

as i recovered and got out of that phase, got back into gender studies, i began to find myself. i was honestly very hesitant to consider asexuality when someone suggested it to me again. i have always been very very romantic and more or less touchy-feely (or as touchy-feely as a repressed kid brought up asian could be, lmao); i refused, for a long time, that i could be somewhere on the ace spectrum. even as i recovered, i was so deathly afraid of being a ‘snowflake’. i’ve only very recently accepted the fact that i do not experience sexual attraction the majority of the time. even romance; i can’t imagine romance without a long trusting friendship. ‘hot’ means nearly nothing to me at all, be it in the sense of ‘conventionally attractive’ or ‘inspiring sexual arousal’ (somehow). regardless of the label, that’s the way i am, and i can reject the label but i can’t force myself to feel things i don’t feel.

i wish as a teen somebody had told me that it was okay to be unsure and contemplating, and that i did not have to care about how narcissistic abusers judge people. i don’t know why im typing all of this out but i guess we all need introspection sometimes. i don’t know why im posting what i typed but i guess i feel the need to be perceived sometimes. at least this way if it resonates with someone, that someone wouldn’t feel alone as i did, hopefully.

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

What would you think about headcanons for the papas realizing they're falling in love with someone close to them (i.e. an assistant, close friend, etc.)? Super specific, I know, but it was an idea I got super interested in on the fly lmao

I love this so much, it’s actually one of my favorite ways to look into their characters romantically!! Hope you enjoy this! 

Also, I feel like it’s a given but I always want to point out that there will be very blatant power imbalances when it comes to the Assistant Reader and the Papas- simply from their place of power and titles. I can go back and add a tag to this if anyone needs! 

Papas/Copia realizing they are falling for a reader who is close to them!

Papa Nihil:

Nihil has only experienced love like this only a handful of times (Don’t tell Sister!) Imperator was one of the strongest connections he ever felt, and the first time he was hit by true love. But over the decades their relationship was put in a strain. Especially when you came into his life. Originally you were part of a small group of Siblings who attended Nihil. But, eventually it became just you who turned to his personal assistant. Not just from his favor but you were the only one who could handle the workload and challenges of the job. Others just fell out of it and were dismissed. Plus, Sister Imperator saw great potential in you. Nihil started noticing his change in feelings toward you some time into your position as Grand Papa’s personal assistant. It was more comforting and easy going with you around. 

Nihil wasn’t sure to laugh at himself or shake his head when you took your first vacation, leaving him with a sub par substitute. You being gone made him sad, lonely, and aching for your return. That’s when he knew he had it bad for you. You always made his day and you both communicated well. Not to mention that you shared so much in common. Papa Nihil felt he bonded with you in a way he hadn’t felt in years. And, he wasn’t about to let you get away! When you came back he did usher you away to a private place and confess his feelings to you. Being blunt and straight admitting that he couldn’t picture his life without you. Nihil gives you the chance to accept or decline of course, seeing as this could turn your professional life in the clergy upside down. You have no idea how pleased he is when you accept! 

Papa I:

You had worked with Papa for years now. You wouldn’t call yourself one of his students, nor one of his personal secretaries. But you were always one of his go to Siblings of sin for rituals, under work, and various projects the Papa would assign. You had been there for everything between helping the man research, to gathering ritual supplies, and even attending his gardens. To Papa, you were a valued member of the flock and one of the hardest workers he had met in the Ministry. Honestly, it was no wonder to the man why he felt so fondly of you. Papa knew immediately he was attracted to you. At first it was a casual attraction, yes he found you attractive but he was more intrigued by your point of view and your mind. He longed to get to know you more. Papa is not one to beat around the bush, and quite bluntly asked if you wished to pursue anything more. 

You accepted, even though you wanted to take things very slow. And Papa was happy to respect you. Your relationship was very platonic for a long time, and Papa valued your company more than anything. The more time spent together the stronger your relationship. For Papa, it was a welcome change to have a more friendly and deep companion than one that served to warm his bed. It didn’t surprise him the day he watched you work with his personal garden did he realize you meant the world to him. That no other person understood and loved him the way that you did. Papa smiled to himself and continued to work. When you asked him why he looked so content Papa was quick to say, “I believe you have stolen my heart.” It nearly made your own heart stop. This fierce, all powerful Antipope before you was humbled and proclaiming his love in the sweetest way. You couldn’t help but do the same for him! 

Papa II:

Takes the longest to come to terms with his feelings and is the most stubborn about it. Namely because Papa is scared to death at the idea of truly catching feelings for someone. He’s had his days of endless lusting, infatuations- nothing more than casual flings or short term affairs. But to realize he’s falling for you? It’s not possible! You weren’t even in his inner circle… not at first. You were one of his older brother’s students. A promising user of witch craft that longed to master your dark arts with the eldest Emeritus brother. He met you when you assisted in a ritual that took place with all the Papas. At first he didn’t notice you, but seeing you talk to Papa I changed that… you were articulate, polite, thoughtful, intelligent, and best of all you were pleasing to look at. Papa thought highly of your potential, and you two slowly talked more and more. 

He made his casual interest known and you reciprocated. What started as another casual affair turned into more than just the physical. Soon you both were having more dinners, more conversations. Hell there were times he summoned you just to have company and some wine. You were a delight to talk to, so much more deeper than some of his other lovers. Actually, you weren’t just another lover. To him you were like a very close friend with benefits- something he didn’t allow often. Papa did not open up to you at first, but the longer you spent time together the more he considered it. He found himself losing his guard with you and he despised the idea of being vulnerable. Papa denied himself of WANTING you to know him so intimately… but eventually had to confess. He wanted you for himself, as a real partner. A real lover in all senses of the word. Someone he could grow to give his whole self to. It took him a while to work the nerve up to inform you this, and you were all too happy to accept! 

Papa III:

It took him a long time to realize how deep his feelings are for you- because you two have been close friends for years. Granted, you’ve rejected all of his casual advances for bedtime shenanigans, and he’s always respected that. Instead you two have gotten very close emotionally- something Papa genuinely doesn’t have with a lot of people. Besides Omega, and a few of his ghouls and brothers, Papa does not have a lot of genuine and true friends he can be himself around. His position of authority makes it hard in both rivalry and people wanting to use him. Not that he has a lack of bedmates or casual partying acquaintances. So he’s never thought to even think of you as anything more than one of his best friends and confidants…That is until he saw you flirt with someone for the first time. Now, Papa HAS been there to give you romantic advice and an ear when it comes to your personal life. 

What person in the Clergy doesn’t have their bouts in romance? But he’s never actually SEEN you with anyone… and that just doesn’t feel right to him. He finds himself, dare he think, jealous? But why would he be- you’re his friend, he should be happy for you! After all you’ve made it clear that you didn’t want any casual one nights with him… but did he ever think to commit more? Papa broods on it for a long time of why he would suddenly feel so awful about the idea of you actually BEING with someone else- like having a serious commitment with someone. Why was he so JEALOUS? Then it hits him… he actually has feelings for you. The reason he didn’t understand before is that Papa rarely has deeper, intimate feelings for someone beyond lust or infatuation. And now, he’s understanding that maybe the reason he’s so eager for your company is more than mere friendship. 

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: 

Copia had known for a very long time that he had fallen in love with you. You were one of the few people he trusted with his life- as true loyalty beyond his ghouls was genuine and rare. The Ministry is a cut throat and very dangerous place to be in the higher ranks, especially with him trying to start the new Bloodline. But you’ve been his personal assistant for years and the two of you had bonded immensely. He loved all your mannerisms, your kindness, your loyalty and duty to the Clergy. But Copia never made a move on you. Even though there is nothing saying he CAN’T have unprofessional relations with you (who in the Clergy DIDN’T regularly bed their co workers and assistants?) Copia never felt right about it. Mainly because he was afraid you didn’t see him that way and that, if you did get physical, it might ruin the bond you two had. So he stayed quiet about it for years and just admired you from his desk. 

It’s not until he’s FINALLY Papa does he try to make a move and confess. Mainly because now he doesn’t have to worry about him being in such a precarious position. Copia can finally relax a little and enjoy his newfound position. You haven’t left this entire time, you’ve been there for him- Hell’s Gates, you’re STILL his assistant! Copia, even in his Papa paint, still seems so shy like a school boy about it. But he confesses his feelings to you without faltering. At first his heart sinks with rejection when he hears you bust out laughing. But this changes when you smile back sweetly and shake your head. “Finally- it took you long enough!” For you both, it was a new start to an already solid and unshakable relationship. You just had to be the patient one and let him come to you!

[notaparty-trick]

All Those Senseless Scars - Chapter 3

By @notaparty-trick​ for @asyouleft​

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange​

Rating: T

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, May Parker & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds

Summary: There is a rule to the way Peter lives now. He didn’t know it at first, but he learnt it.

It’s simple.

To earn what he needs to survive, he has to make sacrifices. 

--- 

Peter Parker's life is derailed when he's kidnapped and kept in a white-tiled room with nothing: no windows, no cameras, no food, no water, no phone, nobody else. Only his own thoughts keep him from losing his mind. If he asks for anything, he must take punishment. Tony Stark will stop at nothing to bring him home.

Archive Of Our Own link here

  “What would you like?”

Peter tried not to cry. “Blanket.” 

He’d warred back and forth all night, worrying himself to pieces over the possibility of a little extra warmth. Asking for it felt like admitting nobody would come to rescue him. But his fingers and toes were blue.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he found himself begging as he was thrust onto the floor on his stomach, jarring his misshapen hand. Though he knew it was utterly useless, the words spilled forth from a well of fear in his mind without filter. “I didn’t do anything, I just wanna go home. Please.”

At the first smack of the whip against his back, the breath was driven from his lungs.

Peter gasped in a shuddering breath, writhing at the unbearable burning sensation that immediately enveloped him. 

The second had him moaning in agony.

The third, fourth, fifth, had him pleading.

“Stop, please, don’t touch me,” he sobbed. “I - I don’t want the blanket.”

The sixth followed all the same.

Peter remembered the History class where he’d seen on the page of his textbook the image of ‘Whipped Peter’, the awful scarring across his back, like something had eaten into him.

He cried at the irony of that name.

His skin broke at the tenth lash. He screamed.

---

“God, oh, God, oh - shit!”

“May, don’t take his hand. He’ll crush it.”

“C’mon, baby boy. You’re strong. You got this.”

“Hurts,” Peter hiccups, bracing himself for the agony of the wound cleaning substance against his ruined back.

“I know, kid. Just a little while longer.”

A team of nurses has him on his side, hospital gown untied to reach the web of welts at his back, restraining him so his reflexive flinches don’t worsen his injuries. His heart pounds. 

“O- oh, crap,” he falters, pulling at the burns on his face as he screws it up instinctually. The shower he’d been assisted in taking just hours ago has been made superfluous by the sweat that’s breaking out all over him, brought on partly by the sheer torture of the procedure and partly by recollections of being held down and made to cry out in pain in his box.

“Deep breaths,” Tony reminds him softly from where he and May are crouched right beside him, inches away but forbidden from touching him until his wounds are cleaned and re-dressed. 

Peter obliges, pushing out a rasping breath. His vision is too blurry to make out Mister Stark’s expression. 

The burn arrives again, too quickly, too overwhelmingly, and he jerks against the hands keeping him in place. “No, sto’, too much!”

“We’re very nearly finished, Peter--”

Mister Stark rises from his seat in an instant. “He told you to stop.”

The pain recedes, leaving a residual sting, and a few shuffling footsteps sound behind Peter. He drags his face across the mattress of his bed, hoping to scrub away the tear tracks there but mostly just increasing the throbbing in his nose.

Then a calloused hand is in his hair, a softer one gracing a thumb over his forearm, and he sags in relief.

“You’re okay, Pete, you’re okay,” comes Tony’s low murmur, but he’s not.

“Th’nk you,” he breathes all the same.

“Nobody does anything without your consent, okay?” There again is the fierce yet uneven tone that Peter can’t decipher while the phantom lash of the whip still rings with harsh clarity in the back of his mind.

“’m good now. Jus’… get it over with.”

“You can keep taking a break.”

“No, I gotta do i’.”

Almost the moment the comforting hands leave him, the pain ramps up again, albeit only for a few seconds before a clean dressing is applied.

Peter knows what comes next.

A plastic tub held in a stand is wheeled to a stop beside the burned side of his face, lukewarm water tossing a washcloth back and forth inside. The nurse who had positioned it wrings out the cloth a little, steadies a gloved hand on an unharmed section of his head, and gingerly presses the wet cloth to the dressing just as Peter lets out a forcefully measured exhale.

He feels his flesh melting.

No. He shuts out the memory with gritted teeth.

This isn’t even the worst part. The worst part is after the dressing has been soaked enough that it peels off, when the cream is washed off and replaced. 

Peter had stupidly presumed that the moment he staggered through the door of the Compound would be the moment his pain would end.

This time, he can’t even move his face, although every nerve in his body begs him to turn away from the razor blades of the washcloth against his raw skin.

“Mff!” he cries instead, his empty hand fisting in the sheets.

“Good job,” he hears May coaxing over his outbursts. “You’re doing amazing, baby.”

The truth is far from her reassurances. He’s whimpering like an idiot. Pain is a thousand times harder to cope with now, and with a superhero side gig like his, it scares him to contemplate how much harder it might become now.

If he ever heals enough to get out of bed, that is.

As the new dressing is being prepared, a morbid part of him speaks. “I w’nna see my face.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tony’s head fall forward into his hands. “Kiddo.”

“Show me,” he insists with all the shaky determination he can muster.

Both May and Mister Stark’s heads remained bowed as Tony taps a few times on his phone to enable the camera app and angles it towards Peter’s face.

Peter’s horrifying, ravaged, broken face.

He hadn’t even noticed that a patch of his hair had been singed off by the blowtorch and a further area shaved to a blunt stubble to bare the flayed brown edges of half-healed scalds. Like a disease that’s taken over his features, scraps of angry red, fragile pink and near-white mark the skin of his chin all the way up past his forehead. The dark pools of his eyes only point out more severely the bright, unnatural colours that ring them. Flecks of blood stand out at the palest areas.

Unable to articulate the gaping well of dismay that tears into him at the sight of himself, Peter lets out a sound between an exhale and a sob.

“You look just fine,” May rushes to tell him.

“Plus, you have super healing, remember? It’ll clear up real fast.”

At Mister Stark’s remark, Peter meets the eye of the man he gained the scars to see, simply staring at him. Tony’s face drops its false veneer of encouragement.

He doesn’t blame Mister Stark, not at all. He had no idea. But the more primal part of him, the part that boils over with rage, with shame, with despair, wants desperately to blame someone.

His disfigurement is the price of his freedom. It’s not fair. Not one other person in the room with him now has had to pay for the return of their own autonomy.

Except…?

The hot, stinging trail of a liquid down his cheek startles him out of his rumination. “S’mthin’ on my face.”

“Hey, he’s - yeah.” Mister Stark frowns even more deeply as a nurse dabs at Peter’s face with gauze. “It just comes out? That’s alright?”

“Wha'?”

“You’re bleeding a little, kid.”

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” the nurse assures them.

Peter feels nauseous.

When the medical team finally leaves him alone, he trades trembling exhaustion for the murky arms of sleep, passing out in a mess of IV lines and broken limbs and sweat.

May is the first to sit back in her chair with a vehement, “Shit.”

Tony realises he’s forgotten to breathe again in the way he seems to regularly forget basic human functions at the moment. Dragging in a pained breath, he shakes out his twitching hands and echoes, “Shit.”

Above their weary heads whine artificial squares of light. Tony blinks against their harshness, the white behind his eyelids recalling a light with the harshness of the sun against the kid’s cheekbone.

“When I became Peter’s guardian,” begins May quietly, “I knew he had a number of health conditions. I knew there would be hospital visits, examinations - I knew I’d have to see him suffer. But I never - I had no idea. Never this . This was never a thought, this… why do you think they did it?”

“It was because of me, I think,” grits Tony, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Tony - what?”

“When I - God.” The words are razor-edged, nauseating, painful to force out. “They brought him out to me, and then they - he looked like he knew what was coming. That’s when they burnt him.”

Curling into herself, May presses the back of her hand to her mouth. “Fuck.”

“He said - he told us he took punishment, right? And then they’d let him have things? Food, water, a blanket--”

“You,” May finishes for him, sombre.

Tony screws his hand into a fist and brings it down jarringly on his knee. “I was such an idiot. Just waltzed on in there - no plan - no backup - no thought of what they might do to the kid.”

May’s expression begins to change then, morphing into a look she’s seen directed at Peter countless times, the look reserved for flareups of self-sacrificial complexes. “Tony, you--”

“I couldn’t have known, sure. But I could’ve. That’s the thing.” 

These thoughts have plagued him from the moment he declared the kid missing. 

A pail of filthy water, his face jerked forward to meet it. Yinsen’s face inches from a glowing lump of coal. Sweat rising from his temples as he was screwed into a hulking metal suit that could have been his salvation or his downfall. And most of all, hand-trembling, muscle-knotting, mind-melting terror. Terror that the kid has lived with for twenty-one days. 

“I’ve been through it, May. I know what they do, the twisted way they think, and I could have thought about his safety for a second instead of barging in there at the cost of--” he jerks a shoulder in Peter’s direction, his beaten, gauze-swathed body collapsed heavily atop his mattress. 

“You barged in because you were desperate,” May counters with fiery sincerity, tearing her gaze from the kid to search for Tony’s eyes. “Because you love him. You had a chance to get him out and you couldn’t pass it up.”

Tony gestures to Peter again, failing to paper over the breaks in his voice as he says, “That isn’t love.”

“But you didn’t do that to him.”

“It sure feels like I did.”

Both of them are aware of the sudden shift in the tone of their conversation; with a hardening of her face that Tony has seen a less intimidating version of on Peter’s face, she flattens her tone and pins him with her gaze. Tony doesn’t dare to interrupt the point she begins to make. “Okay, I can��t - it’s time to cut the bullshit, Tony. I will not have you wallowing right now. I cannot handle it while my kid is still like this.”

Almost unbidden, her gaze strays again to Peter - Tony wonders if she’s worrying about the same things he is. Will he ever heal completely?

“We are going to be strong for him, okay?” she continues as if she’d never faltered. “Forget about the things we could have done or changed. You’ll forget about the way you came to get him, forget about passing out on him. I’ll forget that I let my sixteen-year-old child beat up criminals and didn’t consider that one day somebody with a grudge might choose to act on it.”

“There’s no way that was your--”

“That’s easy to think when it’s not you. And it’s not the point.” 

May is filled with a grief-stricken, worn-down kind of wisdom just then. It flows from fidgeting fingers and lashes clumped together by old tears; it grips Tony and doesn’t let him forget the words being spoken to him. 

“The point is that our kid is in a bad way, and we’re gonna be his pillars of strength. He is not going to worry one bit about how we’re feeling for once in his life. We’re gonna co-parent the shit out of this awful situation, and all three of us are gonna come out the other end, so help me God. I would prefer not to have to drag you behind me too.”

For a moment, Tony simply sits in stunned silence, marvelling at the fortitude of May Parker.

“How are you like this?” he says eventually, speaking his mind. “Why can’t I emulate your - what would Peter call it? Boss-ass parenting?”  

“Because - and I’m just making an observation here - you flail around with your emotions and don’t know what the hell to do with them.” 

The dry remark is punctuated by a laugh. 

Abruptly, the intense sincerity of moments before gives way to Tony’ favourite coping mechanism: joking uselessly about anything and everything that comes his way. The levity eases the hearts of them both.

Raising his eyebrows, he sits back in the hard hospital chair and replies, “That’s bold of you to say.”

“So you acknowledge that I’m right.”

“Well, my own dad was more of an advocate for not having any emotions, so I feel like I’m doing alright.”

May just offers him an affirmative smile.

---

“Sure you aren’t better off in the chair?”

“I’m fine, mom,” retorts Peter good-naturedly. “Besides, if I get tired, you can carry me back.”

There’s the sassy kid Tony loves.

Still, it’s not easy to watch said kid wobbling at a snail’s pace out of his room in the MedBay, his walking stick the only thing keeping from splattering across the floor.

“C’mon, bud, you’re killing me. At least lean on me.”

“No. I’d rather look like a grandpa than an invalid.”

Tony ends up dawdling uselessly behind the kid as he makes his determined, sluggish way towards the elevator.

It’s difficult to look at the kid and simply see Peter Parker anymore, searching past the arm casts and stitches and dressings and hospital gown and - although Tony hates to admit that it fazes him - the patchwork of burns across his face. He loves his kid to bits, no matter how messed up his face is. It’s the knowledge that, even unintentionally, Peter has them because of him, that makes him falter every time he lifts his eyes to meet the kid’s.

But scars be damned, the look on his face when they make it outside and the sun falls across him is unbeatable.

Ever the motormouth, the kid is silent for once, a sigh purging itself from his chest instead as he squints into the dappled light. It eases just a few of the million knots pulling at Tony’s own sternum.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?” he eventually works up the courage to ask.

“Pretty boss, actually, for not keeling over yet. Didn’t think I’d make it all the way here.”

“I actually meant…”

“Oh. Right.” Instantly, a little of the childlike joy withdraws from Peter’ demeanour, and Tony kicks himself.

There’s another long stretch of comfortable silence while the kid, still gazing out at the open grassland, collects his thoughts, mouth opening and closing minutely. Tony has learned to allow space for this grace period rather than interrupt the kid as he so often used to do, finding that when he let Peter talk in his own time, work past his stammering, he’d come out with some really surprising stuff. Profound. Intelligent. Sweet.

“I guess I’ve felt worse. But, uh, I’ve felt better. It’s just… the world is still here, but it feels like it should have… changed.”

It’s a vague statement, but Tony understands. Staggering out of the shattered remains of his suit, finding the Afghanistan desert around him as undulating and brutally hot as ever, he found himself baffled that the landscape hadn’t undergone the same trauma as him. The rest of the world was no worse for wear while he’d been torn to shreds. He’d felt that the desert itself was mocking him.

“And that’s what I’m scared of most, I think. Everyone’s - you know, they’re just going about their lives like normal and I have another thing weighing me down. Most people don’t freak out when they’re asked, like, a normal question. But it’s questions that get me. That’s all they said to me. They’d ask me what I wanted, and if I agreed to have anything… that was it.

“They wanted - they were trying to make me break, I think. So either I’d… I don’t know, drive myself crazy in there, or refuse everything else they offered me until I… maybe. I don’t know. And I’d forget there were people outside who wanted me with them.”

Tony smiles solemnly.

“I never forgot. I didn’t wanna let go. But it’s like - it was almost easier in there.”

There’s a lifetime of suffering etched into the look that Peter fixes Tony with then, tinged with something that might just be guilt.

“I know that sounds… weird--”

“Not weird at all. I felt that too.”

“You - what?” It takes a few moments, but the knowledge he hadn’t thought to turn over in his mind presents itself to him eventually and he gapes. “Mister Stark. Oh my God. You didn’t - I didn’t think about - you too?”

“Come to me with all your kidnapping queries,” Tony jokes flatly. Peter just widens his eyes.

The ensuing pause is tense. It’s broken by the appearance of a car near the entryway where they stand and a flinch at Tony’s side.

“What are they doing here?” the kid breathes, stricken.

Tony peers over at the opening car doors. “Who?”

He recognizes the kid’s friends, although he likes to pretend he doesn’t.

“It’s just Ted and Emma,” he says deliberately, but it doesn’t draw a laugh or even an acknowledgement from Peter, who appears frozen in place. “What, did you guys fall out over Snapchat? I thought they were nice.”

Swallowing fiercely, Peter turns on his heel and makes a swaying break for the doors.

“Kid!” Although at first he expects to have to run after him, Tony finds the kid is still so slow on his feet that he hardly has to move to address him. There’s no way he’ll even be through the foyer by the time his friends have reached - and after all he’d said about the people he loves getting him through his time in captivity, Tony had assumed he’d be a lot more excited to reunite with them.

It’s when Peter clumsily brings his cast-clad forearm up to cover his face that Tony makes sense of his reaction.

“They’re gonna see me, Mister Stark,” pleads the kid, hints of swollen red protruding from behind his wavering arm.

Although it twists at Tony’s heart to see the kid in such a vulnerable state and encourage him to remain in it, a more earnest chemical that sparks in his veins compels him to stand firm. “Yeah, they are, and it’s gonna be fine.”

“Peter!” comes an enthused shout from the approaching figures.

Stilling in indecision, Peter fixes his eyes on his walking stick, his white-knuckled grip on the handle. Tony simply waits for him to make a choice.

Ned makes it for him, sprinting over like lightning but halting abruptly a few feet in front of the kid, who eyes him with a face tautened by fear.

Tony sees Ned take in Peter’s appearance from top to toe. 

MJ joins him then, her deadpan veneer crumbling into horror-struck vulnerability as she beholds the brokenness of the once-mighty boy before her.

Peter ducks his head, hiding his expression behind a curtain of half-shaved hair. “I know,” he croaks.

There’s no reply for a long time. Then, as if he physically can’t contain his outburst any longer, Ned blurts, “ OhmyGodImissedyousomuchI’msogladyou’renotdead.”

Jerking his head back towards his friend a little, Peter lets out a bark of laughter that he surprises himself with.

Tears rapidly filling his eyes, Ned says, “Can I hug you?”

Peter opens his broken arm gingerly. “Don’t cry, dude,” he replies as Ned approaches with overly-hesitant steps, “Gonna make me cry, and when I cry it’s all over.”

The moment of embrace is heralded by a shared damp inhale from them both. Ned settles his arms softly around Peter, who sinks into the embrace, unable to raise his arms to reciprocate but making up for it by burying his face in the shoulder of his friend.

“Spider-Man trouble?” Ned questions him.

Faintly, Tony hears the kid mumble, “Sort of. It was just… they took me. Some bad guys.”

“You could have just told us, you dumbnut,” chips in Michelle, a telltale falter in the undertone of her own words, and goes to join the hug, looping her slender arms around both Peter and Ned. 

Tony can’t help but smile at the sight. The kid does have good friends.

“Didn’t want you to freak out,” mutters Peter. 

Ned pulls away a little with a frown. “We were freaked out enough,” he insists fervently, “We could take it.”

“He was freaked out to the max,” MJ adds, her trademark smirk ghosting her face for a moment. “I was cool about it.”

The kid isn’t comforted, however; Tony catches the gossamer-like glint of a tear racing down the unharmed side of his face. “It’s not just - I’m, I’m all screwed up now.”

“You’re fine. You’re still Peter.” 

Michelle draws him back into the hug, three sets of teenage arms interlinking, comforting one another, all plagued by suffering yet lifting one another up. A string of shaky sniffing noise emanates from where Tony can only guess Peter’s head is nuzzled, but it doesn’t worry him. In fact, he’s comforted by them. He knows the kid, can pick apart the different ways he releases emotion, and these tears signify relief.

It’s almost a minute before the group embrace is broken. Peter raises his head, face paler than when it had disappeared, and says, “Sorry - uh, guys, I gotta sit down.” Tony is baffled to find he’ll let Ned and MJ wrap their arms around him and help him back towards the doors although he’d been so adamant that Tony wasn’t permitted to do the same.

It leaves him idling by the entrance as they retreat, forgotten by the trio of single-track teenage minds heading towards Peter’s hospital room, but he finds himself remarkably unbothered. In fact, his heart is set at rest to such an extent at the sight of the three of them that he waits to follow them back to the MedBay, instead wandering a few steps further from the entrance of the Compound and inhaling the dewy scent of the day.

He’s just glad to see Peter healing.

---

The walking stick is only in active use for roughly a week before the kid’s back and ribs are well on their way to healing and he’s progressed to solid foods, beginning to gain the weight he’d dropped while captive. Usually, his healing might work at a faster rate, but malnutrition got him good. The freaky super-healing of old days resetting bones and staunching minor wounds after the kid’s patrols is only just now making a re-appearance, now the hollowness of Peter’s face is filling with colour again, now wiry muscle is re-threading itself along limbs that had looked fragile enough to snap with bare hands, now there is a hint of a spark punctuating his irises.

Tony, on the other hand, feels like he’s coming out of all this the worse for wear. The damn kid is going to give him a medical condition one day, he’s convinced. If he hasn’t already.

Recovery isn’t linear, it’s a hot mess. Tony knows this well. 

Peter cries in his assisted shower, then laughs uncontrollably for a straight minute at a meme MJ sent him while Tony is still drying his hair. He makes requests with distrust, then disquiet, then false confidence. He lets in visitors at last, lighting up from the inside out as he reunites with Pepper and Happy and Rhodey and hobbles out to the SI team that had helped find him to ramble out profuse thanks, then physically wilting when he returns to his room. His casts are sawed off. His hair begins to grow back. He eats his first meal. He cries at dinner. He has a nightmare. He begs to return to school, then begs not to the next morning. He stops writing halfway through a sheet of catchup Physics questions and stands at the Compound’s balcony blankly until Tony fetches him down. He remains blank and unresponsive for three days and nights before bursting back to life in a fit of tremors and tears and panic, then sags back in the arms of Tony and May and sleeps for a solid sixteen hours.

Now, he lies atop a jumble of cushions on the roof of the Compound, Tony at his side, and watches darkness bleed into the sky’s canopy.

Silence pervaded their walk towards the spot, and it pervades now. The gradual brightening of the crescent moon tells more for the moment than Tony’s words could, setting the tips of Peter’s eyelashes alight, spilling a pale wash of light across the fields that fold out from the two of them as if made by their hands.

It’s Peter who breaks the silence. “What’s gonna happen next?”

“What do you want to happen?”

“I don’t… I’m not sure, I guess.” Folding his arms tightly around himself so the ragged old fleece he’s wearing bunches upwards to warm his neck, Peter turns on his side a little, his eyes flickering upwards to meet Tony’s. “Everything was so simple when it was just me and my box. It sucked, but I knew what would happen. And before then, there was no reason to - to think about my life. It just happened. Now, I’m… scared. That if I don’t get it right I’m gonna stay like this, all screwed up, forever.”

The way in which Tony's face screws up at his declaration is overwhelmingly fond. “Peter, everyone's screwed up. Especially superheroes. We volunteer to deal with the blood and guts of the world, there's gotta be something wrong with us."

The kid lets out an abrupt giggle.

"But - you know what? No matter what, no matter how screwed up you feel, nothing's gonna stop you from being my kid. Nothing in the world - no, the universe.”

The truth having been dispensed, Tony sets back his shoulders against the cushions and notes the outlines of clouds dissipating into the captivating gloom of the night. While the kid makes no audible response, his stillness speaks.

“And if you don’t know what you wanna do, May and I can help you out. We’re in your corner.” A deprecating smile breaks out across his face. “I remember leaving Afghanistan, flying back to a world full of people waiting to see Tony Stark’s next move. They needed me to make a plan, crack a joke, do something.”

“What did you do first?”

“I asked for a cheeseburger,” he huffs.

Peter lets out a peal of laughter. It’s carefree in the way Tony only hoped it might return to when he saw the kid beaten and exhausted on the floor of the Compound’s entryway. “Must’ve tasted pretty awesome,” he says with a shrug.

“No, kid, it sucked.”

Peter swivels to study him.

“It sucked so bad that it brought me back to reality.”

“And… what was reality like?”

“In 2008? Reality kind of sucked too.” He pushes away thoughts of Obadiah’s leering face. They’re of no use to him now. “But - it’s crazy, because I think it took the kidnapping for me to figure that out. Not that I’m glad it happened. But… silver lining, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” is all Peter says, the furrow in his brow revealing that he’s deep in thought. Tony waits for him, pressing absentmindedly at his left temple where a low-grade headache buzzes. The night air, the peace of the moment, are helping to ease it.  

Eventually, Peter blinks harshly and says, “I think I wanna start patrolling again soon.”

“You do?”

Tony will admit that his blood chills at the admission. It’s the simple fear of a repeat of everything they’re still working to overcome.

“As much as it kind of terrifies me… yeah, I do. I, it’s - helping people, it’s my thing.” Peter smiles at Tony, the burnt side of his face still struggling to sustain the lifting of his mouth but conveying the earnest hope of the expression nonetheless. “It’s what makes my reality good. I mean, it’s - it’s hard, and it hurts, and I see people who are at their worst and people who know no better than lashing out, but I also--” 

The kid sobers in an instant.

“Did I ever tell you about the guy I met?” he asks quietly. “At the, uh, at the Queensboro Bridge?”

Tony shakes his head.

“He was standing right on the edge and he - yeah. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I had to do something. I just - swung by and sat a little way away. He swore something awful at me at first, and I… I was so close to just getting up and leaving. I was sure he wanted me to - to leave, I mean - but I didn’t. Maybe two hours later, he just, he just turned around, walked away from the edge, and got back down onto the sidewalk. He let me walk him home. He didn’t jump. Because I was there. And that was just - you know, wow. I always think about that, that one time someone kept living because I was there to help them. I’m not giving up the chance to do that again, a million times if I can. It’s… it’s my responsibility, I guess, and it also just so happens that I love doing it. It’s my real superpower.” He nods at that, a small, tight, affirming motion. Spreading his arms so they hover above him, oversized against the distant backdrop of the stars, he raises his voice: “So, like, why should bad guys be able to get in the way of it? Screw that.”

“Screw that,” echoes Tony, at a loss for further comment. 

He won’t be keeping Peter away from patrolling any time soon. Not when the kid has a sermon like that to back him up.

A chill runs through him at the rippling of a current of breeze along the length of the roof; it jolts a bittersweet memory into his mind. 

“I wasn’t alone in Afghanistan, did you know that?”

“No.”

“I woke up to a man in the cave with me. His name was Yinsen. He…”

“Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark?”

As easily as Tony forgets on some days, on others he remembers so deeply that he can still smell the dust and smoke and sweat and fear in that cave.

“With his last words, he told me not to waste my life. He was my Spider-Man.” He throws out a grin, returned instantly by the kid, who has his cheek pillowed on an arm to watch him. “And look at me now, right? If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here today. Definitely wouldn’t be worrying my ass off about you all the live-long day.”

Tony sticks a hand out of his own bulky sweater and ruffles the kid’s hair, anticipating the kid’s swerve and messing with the curls until they’re irredeemably rumpled. Peter lets his lower lip protrude; Tony just laughs at him.

“So… you’re not wasting your life?” hesitates the kid, shuffling a little closer. There’s a more profound meaning behind the question, one that tugs at Tony’s heartstrings in a million different ways.

He fixes Peter with a level gaze. “Not one second of it.”

As if his words have put his mind at rest, the kid flops onto his back, exhaling in a sigh. He doesn’t bother to fix his hair, leaving it tufting away from his head in countless haphazard cowlicks.

The ensuing inhale Tony hears issue from the kid’s throat holds a new, darker note.

“Mister Stark, what happened to the Oscorp guys?”

“You don’t need to worry about them,” Tony asserts firmly.

“Mister Stark.”

“I made sure they’d never think about taking you again.”

Peter rolls away to the side at that: just a little, but enough to let Tony know that his words have unsettled him. He’d done it for the kid, as much as he knew that it wouldn’t be received positively. Perhaps he’d really done it for himself, then. His own peace of mind, certainly, and relief from the pressure of fury behind his ribs.

All he can think now, however, is that he can’t lose the atmosphere he and the kid have cultivated here, the peace, the honesty.

Turning himself to angle his body towards the kid, he begins, “You know, Pete, I - I really want you to know that you can call me. Any time. None of the crap I pulled before you took down Toomes. I’ll be your Spider-Man. If that sounds… good.”

As hesitant as he’d been, Peter’s furtive smile shows he appreciates the sentiment. He sniffs away the dampness of the evening and says, “That sounds really good.”

“When you get back out there, it’s gonna be tough, I can guarantee. Tough as anything. Nobody can really know what you went through. But I’ll be there, and--”

“I get it, Mister Stark.” The kid’s nose scrunches then in that unique, wonky way of his when he’s amused.

“What did I say about interrupting when I’m being nice?” Tony retorts, affecting offense.

Peter pays the words little heed, instead shifting until he’s tucked against Tony’s side and shyly nudging his head into the nook between his shoulder and neck.

At first, Tony’s stunned into stillness. He and Peter have never been very physically intimate in the past although Tony knows the kid derives a lot of comfort from it: he’s placed hands on his shoulders, squeezed once in a while, steered him one way or another with a hand at his back, even tucked strands of hair away from his eyes once or twice, but the hug barrier has rarely been broken. When he puts his hands on Peter, thoughts of flying fists and broken glass overtake his motor functions, drawing him away.

Perhaps it’s these years of wrestling back and forth that make the simplicity of Peter’s current closeness so breathtaking.

“Thank you,” breathes Peter.

The words encompass a thousand instances of gratefulness. He always forgets the way the kid can do that with a single sentence of thanks.

Tony slowly lets his arm curl around the kid’s shoulders. Far above them, a star pierces the blanket of the night with increased potency.

Caring his throat, he hums, wondering how to bring up the strange thought that’s crossed his mind. “Actually, I also wanted to… a couple of days ago, I found this - you know what, forget it. I said nothing.”

“That’s mean!” Tilting his head so he’s gazing up at Tony from just beneath his chin, he pleads, “Tell me what it is.”

“It’s stupid and sappy--”

“I love stupid and sappy. Please, Mister Stark.”

And there arrive the wide baby browns Tony can’t resist.

“Damn puppy eyes,” he mutters, fishing in the pocket of his pants for his phone.

“They still work?”

Frowning, Tony looks away from the glow of the phone display to find a startling amount of uncertainty in Peter’s demeanour.

“What are you talking about, Pete?” he exclaims, letting his genuine disbelief temper his tone. Before the memories can flood in, he lifts his free hand and brushes it gently across the kid’s patchwork cheek. “‘Course they still work. As long as your head is on your neck, you’ll be able to sway me.”

There’s a faint smile from Peter, but it’s not convincing enough for Tony. He continues: “You look great, by the way.”

The kid ducks his head, huffing out a nervous laugh. 

“Still Peter Parker. Still adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” argues the kid weakly, casting about, “I’m…”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You're adorable.”

“Okay,” Peter concedes with little reluctance.

Scrolling through his music app until he finds what he was looking for, Tony blows out a breath, feeling nerves unexpectedly rearing their head.

“It’s a song?”

“Yeah. I heard it first while you were out there. Made me think of you. Well, get ready for the sap.”

He presses play.

A soft guitar melody begins the song, slow strumming patterns flooding the rooftop and settling peace across both the figures lying there.

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think of you

Turning in circles, confusion is nothing new

Flashback to warm nights

Almost left behind

Suitcase of memories

Time after...

Peter’s knee settles against Tony’s as he winds himself further around him. The warmth at Tony’s side is elating and calming all at once; he wonders why he was so scared to do this before.

Sometimes you picture me, I’m walking too far ahead

You’re calling to me, I can’t hear what you’ve said

And you say go slow

I fall behind

The second hand unwinds…

An alien but wholly welcome silence descends upon his mind, halting the constant whirring and worrying. Watching Peter’s eyes slide shut on his shoulder, he imagines the kid is experiencing the same thing. There’s a small, confidential smile curling across his face; it’s a thank you of its own.

If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me

Time after time

If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting

Time after time

Peter’s head bobs in a way that somehow communicates that he understands why Tony connected to these lyrics. They say what he can’t.

Tony is filled with overwhelming affection, so all-encompassing it spills from his chest and fills the Compound, the surrounding forest, the sky itself, for the small boy at his side who has grown an unfathomable amount since the day he first set eyes on a kid in a onesie running around Queens.

---

One month later

Standing before the long mirror in the corner of his bedroom, Peter studies himself and the bundle of bright red-and-blue fabric he holds.

The suit appears innocuous bunched up in his newly-healed hands that way, but it holds more power than he'd before been aware of: in the eyes of some, the power to condemn him. The power to regard him as a test subject.

It had happened out of nowhere , his danger sense knocking him off guard with a sudden blare that pricked viciously at the back of his neck. Then--

BANG

The gunshot sent him scrambling the length of the block to reach the source, slipping and almost crashing to the ground with the misplaced momentum of a haphazardly slung string of webbing. Sprinting the last few steps, he rounded the street corner and came across a woman with a gun to her head, flanked by a gang of four masked people.

"Spider-Man! Help, get me out of here--"

"Shut up!" thundered the gang member who had her pulled against his chest. "And you--" he tilted his pistol momentarily in Peter's direction "--put your fucking hands up! Don't try anything!"

As much time as Peter spent rescuing small animals from the perils of New York City traffic and halting the occasional robbery, he wasn't unfamiliar with the city's more ugly crimes. This was a textbook mugging. In fact, it felt almost... too familiar.

Peter raised his hands for the moment, although he had no intention of keeping them there. The gun was his primary concern, however, and until he had a guarantee he'd be able to keep it a good distance away from the scared lady's brains he was eager to play it safe.

His hurried strategization proved in vain, as did the quip half-formed on his tongue, when a sharp sting in the side of his neck compelled him to turn sharply to the side.

Nothing.

Groping at his neck, he closed his hand around a needle.

The drug hit him instantly, knocking his sense of balance and clouding his vision so severely he hadn't a hope of getting to the hostage.

Or was she even a hostage? Had any of it been real?

"Woah, what the hell," he remarked with alarmingly numb lips. The ground rose up to meet him in the way it always does in movies: the screen fades to black, the music halts - but his senses remained dulled to a blurry grey.

Shedding his t-shirt, Peter clears his throat in a preparatory gesture before twisting around to see the half-healed welts across his back. The angry red swelling that had once ringed each mark has softened to a slightly heightened pink which rings long white lines, forty of them still there but receding.

They're kind of cool, he thinks abruptly. They show that he's still around. That he is strong.

He shucks off his pants then steps into the suit with a deep breath.

Then came the hands, what felt like dozens of them to Peter's wandering mind, gripping, running up and down his suit, searching for something.

He was in deep shit; although he was nowhere near coherent enough to fight off the invaders with his lead-heavy limbs, he knew that for sure. These guys had him in their lap - literally. The possibilities of what might happen to Peter ran through his mind in quick, delirious procession, so vividly reasonable that they brought bile to the back of his throat.

He let out a quiet groan, the only act of protestation he could muster. It only drew a laugh from the hands. 

"They hit him hard, didn't they?"

"Not hard enough." It was the voice of the woman he'd rushed to save just moments ago. "Supposed to knock him out."

"Just hit him with another. It can't kill him, right?"

"Got a smaller chance than what's gonna happen once we get him to Norman."

Another furtive, ugly laugh.

A whizzing noise alerted him to the decompression of his suit. 

"Fucking finally."

He was pulled back and forth, limp as a ragdoll, as the million hands worked his suit off him, his last shred of protection slipping off his immobile legs and leaving him in his boxers.

"Oh, Christ. He's... young."

"Still Spider-Man. We do our job."

Tapping the spider emblem on his chest, Peter watches as the fabric rushes inwards to meet his skin, as he transforms from boy to superhero.

Though he'd managed to hide the lash marks by changing in corners after gym class, there was nothing he could do to conceal the fading burns on his face.

Peter greets the shining, reddened skin there with a mixture of solemnity and strange fondness. He no longer needs dressings, just time, and acceptance of his new appearance. His hair will grow out again. The marks will fade further and further until they're a part of him.

The hands seized him again and dragged him back down the street he'd entered so quickly, so blindly. His sluggish heart begun a weak chorus of hammering. Torn between utter panic and complete lethargy, his body rebelling against his screaming danger sense, he found to his dismay that the drugs began to win. A screech of tires; he was lifted onto a metal floor.

Oh, God, he remembers thinking vaguely. Mister Stark had better come for me.

The ensuing cacophony of voices was too multitudinous for him to pick out. The second needle in his neck, however, was keenly picked up by his pleading, aching danger sense. The awareness of the fact that a second dose of drugs was about to enter his bloodstream did nothing to prevent his vision fading to black, noise halting. End scene.

He passes out among the million hands and wakes up to white tiles.

Brushing gloved hands habitually through the errant locks of hair lying across his forehead, he watches himself one last time, tries to connect the dots between the suit Mister Stark had re-made for him, the invisible stitching, the black arrow-lines dividing bold red and blue, the graceful shape of the suit around him culminating at his neck in a neat seam, and the scarred skin that grows from that seam and forms the face of Peter Parker, Spider-Man.

"Peter Parker," he repeats under his breath, "Spider-Man."

He'll admit that the murky flashes of the past that mar his mind now scare him a little. Although he hadn't known it the first time he'd stepped into this suit, he makes himself both strong and vulnerable when he's in it. His heart hadn't stopped beating in his box, but it had come close, whether from thirst or hunger or pain or blood loss or sheer loneliness; and yet now it beats a tattoo against his tender ribs as if making up for any doubts of its fervour, beating and beating and beating.

But there's more than one reason why he's donned the suit today.

Peter slips the mask over his head and vaults over the windowsill, emerging into the brilliantly warm light of the golden hour that lays in delicate streaks across the patchwork of rooftops that make up the puzzle of Queens. He's warmed from the inside out by the light. Shooting a web, taking a leap, he swings, revelling in the cool wind, the airy momentum of his movement.

The glass doors of the Compound cast blinding, enchanting reflections of the sinking sun, but if Peter squints he can make out a familiar form waiting for him in the entry.

Letting go of his web line, he twists backwards in the air, arcing into a backflip just for the hell of it, before dropping to his feet outside the doors.

The first thing he notices is Tony's smile. It's an indulgent thing, packed so full of fondness that Peter feels the excess settling in his own expression, and lit up by the golden light.

Spreading his arms, Peter nods at himself, making a beckoning motion as if encouraging praise from a cheering crowd, then turns on the spot so Mister Stark can see every inch of the suit and know that Peter's decision to wear it again is very deliberate. Through the glass, there's a silent laugh from his mentor. Peter hasn't seen him so unapologetically happy since the day he was taken.

Dropping the goofy act, he pulls off his mask and watches the face across the glass brighten further still. Peter unconsciously brings up a hand to his old burns, a flicker of a reflection showing him the ragged skin for a moment before being swallowed up by the vast glory of the sun. Tony just quirks the corners of his mouth, the affection in his eyes unwavering.

Peter steps through the glass door, throwing out a blade of refracted light that pierces nothing but the safe haven of nature around him, and meets him inside.

[jus-tea]

Going to explain a little about the Miss Rhona lyrics, what inspired different aspects etc, as I’ve seen a lot of people speculating over it, and coming up with their own ideas (which I fully support!) but for those who are curious...

1st Stanza

“Daddy’s at the food store” So, when this was written, myself, my partner, and seemingly everyone was spending so much time going from supermarket to supermarket trying to find the basics, the essentials. Pasta, flour, sugar etc were sold out seemingly everywhere. The weekend just before this was written he’d lined up for half an hour before Costco opened to ensure he acquired some toilet paper- which seemed impossible to get ANYWHERE. I had colleagues who sent their adult children to shops everyday (they couldn’t cause they were at work) to try to find toilet paper somewhere. We ran out at work, and ended up with tissues. People, generally, were spending so much more time trying to find essentials at supermarkets. It’s not nearly as bad now, but just over a month ago when I wrote this it felt like a big issue. Also, “food store”?! NO ONE HAS CALLED ME OUT ON THIS which I find so weird because no one actually says, “food store”?! What a weird expression! So why did I use it? Well! Initially I thought “cost-co” but didn’t use it because I wanted the rhyme to appeal more universally. And we only got a Costco in my city a few years ago and I know plenty of places in the world don’t have one so... I thought maybe supermarket? But thought maybe they didn’t call them that in other countries- market? Market sounded so strange as it’s really only fresh fruit and veggies we get in our local markets here (in my part of the world) and didnt fit with the image I was trying to create and besides all our markets were cancelled as they were too crowded.. so “food store” was initially just a place-hold. I still can’t believe literally no one has said “hey wtf is up with “food store? No one says that” but there you go. It’s in literally every version ive seen as that so... that’s what it is now. So, that line about the food store and collated with the next line, “mummy’s our of town- she’s working at the hospital” was based on news articles I’d read about doctors having to isolate themselves from their families by sleeping either at hospital or in their garage. People who couldn’t see their kids for ages, it was really sad! And then combining these lines, it’s about how these little kids for the first time really are sometimes being left home alone because their parents have stuff they *have* to do; get food or work, and lots of kids these days don’t get left home alone anymore, it was common when I was little but not for a long time! But seemingly suddenly with this pandemic it’s happening again. And I hadn’t seen that talked about but I was seeing glimpses of it and it, felt weird? I guess? So that made for the perfect beginning to a covid19 nursery rhyme- a kid getting left home alone a lot and not being really sure how to respond to that.

So, with the hide away lines, there’s 3 stanzas and in each miss Rhona gets closer. The first one is she’s “come to town”. Now I remember that feeling on that day learning that the first coronavirus case had occurred in my city. Up until then there was a bit of a sense of dread, like you knew it was everywhere else, then in the news it got closer and closer, with cases in small country towns nearby. But when it got to my city it was suddenly so real. And that’s where the story starts because Miss Rhona was HERE. She arrived in the kid’s town. The line, “she’s come to take us down” is another way of saying “she’s going to get you” and also links to the final line which reveals her success “she took us down/she’s brought us down”.

2nd stanza

So, she goes from being in town to being “at the doorstep” which represents getting closer- being in those people the child might interact with everyday- and imagined more literally in the postal worker delivering a package (actually ON the doorstep) or food delivery or anyone who they’d still have close contact with. But “I’ll keep 6 feet away” is a self reassurance that if they just do the right thing and keep their distance everything will be ok. But then the conflict! Grandma needs toilet paper, EVERYONE needs toilet paper and no one can get it anywhere! No doubt the dad is our trying to find some more while he’s at the “food store”. And I was thinking... my children’s grandmother lives in a different state to us but if we were in the same one you can bet your life id be out dropping essentials at her doorstep whenever I could- tp included. (Although, tbh the tp issue didn’t seem as bad in her state from what she told me) so in this bit I guess I imagined myself as the child because that would be something important to me, to make sure my elders had their essentials. Idk I tried to help where I could, got baby wipes when I found it for a friend with a newborn, stuff like that. So the conflict is the child’s sense of responsibility ensuring their grandmother has what she needs, while also knowing that the coronavirus, Miss Rhona, could reside in anyone they meet along the way. Kind of like a little red riding hood situation linking the dangers of strangers. So they open the door due to this sense of responsibility and, oh no, Miss Rhona was at the doorstep, remember? Now the child has it too; “Miss Rhona’s come to stay” IN THE CHILD. This line was to use the imagery of Miss Rhona coming to stay with the child at their house, like an aunt might come to visit for the weekend, but symbolises the virus coming to live within the child, they’ve caught it now, which is why they definitely, “can’t come out to play”.

Stanza 3

“But grandma needs the paper” that’s where the conflict arises again- the child’s sense of responsibility, maybe guilt even? Overshadowing their understanding of just how serious the virus would be should their grandmother catch it. They’re just a kid remember? They don’t understand. So they take her some anyway, everyone needs toilet paper! Also, I know that phrasing it as such misleads the listener to think about a newspaper. Thats how we talk, “I’ll get the paper!” My dad says ... often. But, 2 things, it rolls off the tongue easier than “grandma needs toilet paper” which would’ve messed up the rhythm anyway, and also, for anyone who’s lived it you would automatically know about the “great toilet paper shortage of 2020” 😅 there were so many memes about it and it was funny that everyone was obsessed with it but if you were one of those people who genuinely really couldn’t find any- and there were lots!- then it kind of sucked. And that’s a memory that’ll stick with you 🙈

So. The note. “And here’s a note from Rhona she wanted me to say” imagine the child at the grandmas doorstep, she’s bringing her tp (that’s nice) but the child is infected, and hands grandma a note. I imagined like a little filed up piece of paper in their back pocket they take out and hand over, to pass on the message from their aunt living in their house. As kids would do- what teacher hasn’t given their student a note and said “go tell mr x such and such” and the note is a reminder of what to say. But the note they hand over is also a metaphor. It symbolises contact between the grandmother and grandchild, and as grandma took it, she caught the virus too. And the note reads,

“Hide away, hide away, keep 6 feet away”

Which is that line repeated all the way through the rhyme. In the end, it’s what Miss Rhona was saying all along. Hide away children...

And the final line is a throwback to near the beginning, “she took us down” because earlier remember she came to “take us down” but now it’s happened and we’re in past tense. She did it. She took down the grandma, and possibly the child too, although I left that as ambiguous. To be taken down here is the symbol for death, of course. It’s pretty grim. But that was the point i suppose.

And that’s where it ends. Anything after that, while I’ve seen some adaptations made which sound really cool, doesn’t really make sense with the story, because they died in that moment. And continuing on after that seems a bit overkill, because I gues, perhaps symbolically at least, who would be able to continue singing the rhyme once they had already died?

But having said that, it’s still nice to see people get exited about it and want to contribute more lyrics too. Making up stories, songs, games, art in general, it’s a way we’ve found to cope i think? Like dark and morbid stories are a part of our culture because we respond to them. Lessons, feelings, etc. people far more articulate than I have explained before...

So. That’s Miss Rhona. This explanation was written really roughly and I apologise for that, but you get the gist. I strongly recommend for anyone who hasn’t already to check out the #miss Rhona recordings hashtag on my blog, because some of these melodies people have put to it are really beyond words. Dreamy, haunting. Peaceful. Childlike. Much more than the original chant-like skipping rhyme I originally envisaged.

Thanks for reading this far... please be safe and look after your grandmothers ❤️

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “ What Death Tastes Like” Part 5

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1    Part 2   Part 3     Part 4

The Joker feels his face covered in soft kisses and although generally speaking he loves being pampered, this particular instance awakens his self-defense mechanism.

“What time is it?” J mutters.

“Let me see,” you stretch for your phone. “12:03 am.”

“I should go,” he lifts his head up from the pillow and you pull him back in your arms, yawning.

“Stay for a little bit longer, ok?”

“Why?”

“I wish to hold on to my birthday present for a few more minutes,” Y/N pleads with the man she senses doesn’t want to be there anymore. “Don’t worry, I’m aware it was a casual affair,” your sad smile prompts a completely out of context answer:

“If you noticed I fell asleep, you should have woken me up!” The King of Gotham complains.

“I fell asleep also,” you snuggle to him and since J is suddenly quiet you whisper. “It was amazing.”

He keeps staring which makes you wonder what the hell is going on in his mind right now.

“At least for me,” you underline after you grasp he won’t comment on the subject; you didn’t have a clue he’ll convert the night you spent together into awkwardness for no reason. “Get out of my tent!” you snap at his behavior, irritated. “Get out!” you shove him and The Clown Prince of Crime doesn’t budge.

“Why are you mad?” he finally addresses the annoyed Y/N.

“Because you’re a jerk!”

“Come again?!” The Joker frowns and Scarecrow’s daughter has a clever response; she doesn’t share his genes for nothing.

“I would but I guess you’re not a big fan of us having sex a second time!!!”

“Wow!” J bitterly scoffs. “You sure can twist a guy’s words, huh? If you really must pry into my personal life, I’ll have you know that I’m not used with small talk afterwards, understand?”

While you wonder if he’s bluffing, you can’t help offer the benefit of doubt served with a side of insolence.

“Well, maybe if you would give it a try with someone that actually cares, you’d have stuff to discuss.”

“Miss Crane, what makes you think Mara doesn’t like me?”

The Joker expects a feisty reply to his audacious remark yet he receives a piece of sturdy logic instead:

“If she was crazy in love, she wouldn’t agree and with this on and off relationship you two have.”

J is obviously displeased at your statement thus Y/N has to unleash her creativity in order to push him comprehend what she’s aiming at.

“The problem is you don’t approach anything important, you only shut down everyone. Even Emma believes she’s not yours.”

The King of Gotham was preparing to lash out but your latest sentence totally catches him off guard.

“What do you mean?!”

“You never talk about her mother granted she keeps asking so Emma presumes you probably stole her from an individual you consider your enemy and raised her as revenge.”

“Huh?!” The Joker gets on his elbow, appalled. “She is my daughter!”

“I say that to her when she panics, unfortunately random people do look similar…,” you twirl a strand of his green hair around your fingers. “Steering clear from issues we’re uncomfortable with doesn’t necessarily result in a positive outcome,” Y/N concludes and her partner is not excited at all.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?!”

“I’m a Crane,” you peck his lips. “It’s in our blood.”

A lot of thoughts rushing behind those blue eyes and you’re confident his patience is running low; add a short fuse to the combo and according to your flawless instinct J will bite soon.

“Take me for example,” you attempt to cram in the main point of your dialogue before it happens. “I don’t care you’re older, I fancy your company nevertheless: you’re super handsome plus emotionally unattractive…”

“I’m what?!” The Joker interrupts.

“Umm… emotionally unattractive?” you hesitantly repeat while watching him jump off the pillows and start to collect his clothes in the semi darkness.

“Serves me right for sleeping with somebody half my age!” he growls at the young woman realizing she upset him with her rant.

“So you’re 46?” you struggle to joke at his affirmation.

“Listen here, Miss Crane!” J dresses in a hurry, angry at your stunt. “If you imagine you figured me out, you didn’t!! Nobody fucks with me!” he violently kicks the mattress and you can’t avoid it:

“I think I just did. Literally.”

The hate in his demeanor makes you regret opening up; your goal was to imply you like him no matter what yet the aftermath is way off what you intended.

“I apologize, OK?” you sigh and reach your hand for his.

“I hope you perish!” he strikes your fingers with such brutality it stings. “You’re dying anyway but hopefully the Cromyxillium kills you faster!” The Joker unzips the tent and leaves a shocked Y/N breathless at his hurtful tirade.

“That’s all you got? Stupid old man…” you whimper and cuddle under the thin blanket with his cushion.

Grief is not the correct term to describe what you experience for the moment: a perfect birthday turned into exactly the opposite in a blink of an eye simply because The Joker proved once more he has no concept on how to handle dynamite; fire suits him better.

***************

Next morning, 10:14am

“Are you hot or cold?” your father inquires since your intravenous therapy commenced 10 minutes ago.

“No,” you gaze at the IV bag and Jonathan lingers by your bed, reminding his offspring about their plan.

“We’ll do 3 hours on, 3 hours off; I’ll monitor your vitals and if you feel strange alert me immediately, deal?”

You nod a yes and his perseverance in aiding you with your terminal cancer evokes a sincere confession:

“Daddy…Thank you for trying to save me…I’m sorry I’m a burden…”

“A burden?!” Scarecrow mumbles.

There are a million facts you should evoke, yet the predominant one keeps hunting you.

“You buried yourself in the lab because of me…and Evelyn left…”

“Evelyn and I broke up for various motives,” your parent grumbles. “Saying I immersed myself into working because of you hints that I was forced into it against my will which is not true. I did everything out of love… I can’t bear the idea of losing you,” he kisses your temple; you wrap your free arm around his neck, squeezing him tight.

“You’re the best dad; I’m lucky you’re my father. If I die… you think mom is waiting for me?...”

Jonathan Crane has the weird sensation he’s choking; his wife died after you were born due to leukemia, now their daughter is fighting for survival: she’s plainly the last fortress separating him from utter madness.

“I couldn’t save your mother, but I’ll be damned if I let you die kid,” he caresses your cheek. “She can wait; I bet she’s not eager to take you with her,” Scarecrow reassures his daughter. “Rest honey.”

“I will…” you consent and Emma barging in the bedroom with her duffle bag switches your attention.

“I’m here, I’m here!” she exclaims. “Traffic was horrible, bad accident on the freeway!”

**************

11 am

“Are you comfortable?” Emma checks with her friend, not entirely certain how to bring up a very delicate topic clouding her usually bubbly disposition.

“Of course,” you smile and she wiggles in her recliner. “Are you?” you wink at her visible restlessness as you attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“Y/N…,” she taps the fluffy carpet with her feet. “Mmmm… last night after we returned from the river I dropped by to see how you’re doing and… I came to your tent…,” Emma pauses seeing the stupefied expression on your face. “I…I found my father sleeping in there with you…”

You lick your lips and strain to keep your calm even if your heart is pounding out of your chest.

“Did my dad take advantage of you?” she lowers her voice and you can tell she’s torn apart by the horrible notion.

“He didn’t,” you shake your head.

“Dumb girl…” Emma admonishes without any trace of resentment; what else can she articulate in these circumstances regardless?  

“I can’t believe I’m inquiring… Did you use protection?”

“No…It just happened…”

“Oh my God!” the concerned judgement pressures you to continue:

“It didn’t end well so it’s fair to assume we’re not in any danger of me becoming your stepmom,” your tone diminishes and she leans over to scold when The Joker passes by the opened door without bothering to peek inside your bedroom; you didn’t spot him but Emma did.

“I’ll be back!” she hisses and you’re confused at her desire to leave you.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She ignores your question and races after The King of Gotham, catching up with him at the end of the long corridor.

“Dad!” Emma shouts and he turns around.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?!” she interrogates the clueless Joker.

“I’m meeting Crane. Is he downstairs?”

“In his lab compounding the next batch of Cromyxillium for Y/N,” she fumes at J’s impertinence. “Didn’t you forget something?”

He seems puzzled and Emma is not tricked by his deceiving performance.

“My best friend is in her quarters, uncertain if she’ll survive the cancer treatment. Are you pretending she doesn’t exist?”

“Meaning?” The Joker sneers.

“I know you slept with her!” the accusation follows instantly. “Don’t deny it! How could you take advantage of her?!”

The Clown Prince of Crime straightens his shoulders, aware he can’t negotiate his innocence out of this complicated riddle.

“I did not take advantage of her! How dare you accuse me of such low move?”

“You didn’t?” Emma closes the gap between them. “You know she has a crush on you and she’s vulnerable; what type of man would prey on that?!”

J is not thrilled with the innuendos and cuts her off:

“She basically begged for some and I obliged out of pity!”

Emma slaps him and The Joker gasps, enraged she had the audacity:

“Do that again and I’ll neglect you’re my daughter!” he growls and the serious threat doesn’t faze her.

“Hurt her more and I’ll forget you’re my father! If you are indeed my father,” she emphasizes while stomping away towards the kitchen.

“I am your father!” J simmers at her impeccable strategy: Emma is retreating to a different corner of the house giving him the opportunity to choose.

Who the heck knows if she’s actually his?

One thing is undeniable though: they share the same despicable temper.

****************

You discern The Joker in the doorway and your body stiffens; you stare at the TV screen wishing he’ll disappear.

“Where’s Crane?” J analyzes Y/N’s IV pole.

You don’t engage so his crankiness emerges.

“I suppose you didn’t flatlined yet!”

“Nope,” you grunt at the provocative declaration that served its goal: you did reply to The Clown’s rubbish.

“Where’s Crane?”

“I heard you the first time and I’m not sure why you focus your energy on a useless interrogation. You know where my father is!”

“Where?” The Joker’s vile attitude can’t compromise for less than instigating his fling.

“Please take your stuff that’s firm now but will get saggy in maximum 20 years and vanish!” the poisonous remark makes him groan.

“What stuff?!”

You check him out glaring at his mid-section before dismissing his presence.

“That’s the rudest fucking criticism ever!” The Joker barks and Y/N crabbily indicates:

“It’s not criticism, it’s reality! Gravity’s a bitch! Mara won’t mind, won’t she? After all, you two share a very special bond: on today, off tomorrow, hookup next week, take a break next month. Such dreamy relationship!”

“Do you have more derogatory references to my private life?!” J grinds his teeth ready to unleash several atrocities your way.

“No, too busy dying…” you show him the needle in your arm. “I don’t feel the pain from the medication burning my veins; I’m used with my sickness, with the ups and downs. What I do feel is the pain of being taken for granted.”

The Joker is not a fan of the insinuated context.  

“You said no strings attached!” he stresses the lack of commitment consented the previous evening.

“You’re the one that came to me; I thought it meant you were accepting to be the center of my universe.”

J ogles the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom and assembles a couple of harsh disclosures in his brain when her entitled smirk halts the project.

“You’re buying it, aren’t you?” you chuckle at his astonishment. “I’m just messing with you Mister Joker; who in their right mind would make you the center of their universe?! You have 10 seconds to leave, otherwise I’ll scream and security will come!” you shelter your head with the quilt so you don’t have to see his mug anymore.

No outpour of vexation from his part which is cool: means he bailed.

The blanket is slowly pulled until your eyes emerge; J hovers your face, pissed at the unwelcomed clash.

“I’m checking if you kicked the bucket; corpses are usually covered thus my dilemma.”

“Go away!” you advise. “Or I’ll scream!”

You inhale preparing to yell: The Joker didn’t predict you’d defy him and he swiftly kisses you in order to stop the sounds.

The door is cracked and Emma witnesses the scene, reckoning bizarre elements:

Her father holds grudges and was mad at Y/N earlier due to whatever happened yesterday; nevertheless he still kissed her.

On the other hand, you were definitely miserable after your escapade, yet you didn’t reject him.

Emma may not be informed about the entire story, but one detail is crystal clear: the future is far from being simple.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

[segernatural]

Char, firstly please accept all of these hearts for that ask that made me smile so much: 💕💞💓💗💖. Secondly, I love your long tags on spn posts so much. You’re always so articulate and smart! I’m rewatching the show at the moment (got up to around 10/11 when I was watching it as it aired) and it’s been a trip and a half. I’m nearing the end of season 3 so I’m very excited to see a certain angel soon. I was wondering if you’ve watched the whole thing or you’re still getting through it and if so how far you are at the moment? I’m enjoying getting back into it a lot more than I thought, like there are moments that fall a little flat but also good moments! Dean is definitely still more interesting and likable next to Sam for me, I’ve found. Have a good day, my friend! ☺️💕

Aww nina! I'm so glad that it made you smile😊 we always have such wonderful interactions that i was like 'nina wants to know why i follow her? Time to send some love!' 💛💛

I really do appreciate that you take the time to read my little essays in the tags! They're a lot of fun for me to write--i tend to have a lot of thoughts on things, and you saying that they come across as articulate and smart really warms my heart :D i try my best!

Wowie you're going through the rewatch fast! I 100% get that feeling of being excited to see Thee Boi. He's wonderful, and Lazarus Rising is an amazing episode.

I'll let you in on a bit of a secret: i hadn't watched spn at all until the craziness that was November 5th. There's a few layers to that though. I have been a part of online culture since like, 2013, so due to cross-fandom contamination, i've been aware of supernatural for a very long time. In fact, when i heard it was having its final season, i vowed that i would check in on the fandom after every episode--to pay my respects, in a way. This fandom is responsible for trailblazing a lot of what fandom exists like today, so i wanted to check in and see how folks were doing.

Which means, while i had little context, i was around for the big moments of season 15. i felt the highs and lows, just not as deeply. I didnt even know its final eps got delayed, until the night of november 5th when the world was holding its breath.

Thee scene was my first ever spn scene. And it was such a ride to be a part of the experience of that night--i had heard theories and things from the show, but i was like i *have* to know how it got there. Bc i couldnt believe (in a good way!) that fans were right.

Bee and i had a breakdown over it all--and we kind of havent stopped 😂 i ended up watching both 15x19 and 15x20 *live on television* despite not seeing the 325 episodes that preceded them.

I wrote meta before even watching a full episode.

And that christmas, i decided that i was gonna commit to watching the whole show. Bee's doing a rewatch, whereas i'm seeing it all for the first time.

I take copious amounts of notes while watching--screenshots, commentary, quotes, the whole deal. And it has been an absolutely fascinating show. I'm not really a horror person--ive never seen a horror movie. Early seasons spn is not a show that i would normally watch, but because im paying such close attention and taking apart the layers, it has been a lot of fun. Ive been genuinely having a great time. It's so interesting to know bits and pieces of this show--plot points, scenes, characters--by cultural osmosis by being in an online space, that i know some of what happens next, despite never actually seeing it.

As to where i've gotten? We're at the season 4 finale tonight!

There's something about all three of our main guys that fascinates me--although i am a self-admitted dean-coded casgirl. Currently we've got all the actors giving it their all, which just makes the characters so compelling. Jackles throws his heart into dean from the get-go, which instantly made me very intrigued by his character, and s1 doesn't do a lot with sam, other than he's kind of there. S2 and 3 sam is really, really interesting, and he shines in episodes like Roadkill and Heart, along with Memory Spot. There are aspects of sam that i definitely relate to, and i really like him! I also, unfortunately, have eyes, and cannot look past how awful his hair was in 1-3, and the 2005 styling of the wardrobe was not good 😂 we've gotten to better hair but he still can't dress himself.

Dean is a fascinating character. He's a walking contradiction that shouldn't be as compelling as he is, but jackles does a fantastic job at piecing together this man that is intricate and understandable. As sort of implied by the self-diagnosed 'dean-coding', i feel like i have a grasp on how he thinks and operates, which means i am with him on every decision he makes. It all makes so much sense. Even if it hurts. His hurt strikes me to my core. Also, the wardrobe team doesn't usually do dean dirty, and jackles pretty, so,,, 😂

I've only just started to truly get to know cas, but his ideologies in the show conflict so much with the boys' and its just fascinating to watch. Its an opposing side, in a lot of ways, but its a very rational one. And getting to watch him fall for the first time, while knowing the Truth, is incredible. Misha is phenomenal as cas, and i can't wait for more. I love our lil gay angel. He is Thee Boi. Amazing. 11/10.

I could talk about this for ages, clearly 😂

I'm glad you've gotten into the show again! It truly has been a mindblowing experience to go "wait. The show did that. Really?!?" And have the rest of the fandom go "yeah! They did!" And to fully realize how not exaggerated any of their thoughts are. Its literal text in the show, that the network and writers try to avoid. Like. I get it now. I one thousand percent understand why people shipped and continue to ship dean and cas FROM THE FIRST EPISODE with them together. It's electric.

Ok i was gonna stop and then i got going again 😂

Thank you for this lovely ask nina! I wish you the best day as well :D 💛

[avahalliwell]

The signs were always there; but Ava just never noticed them. Or even turned a blind eye to them. 

Context: Some further insight into Ava’s relationship with Nathan.

Location: Various locations in New York and Catalina.

I. When it all first started. (New York City, June 2010)

He was messing her work up.

His temple creased towards the centre into a furrow, furiously typing into his phone, as Ava dabbled the sponge across his forehead once again. She was going to get into trouble for even the tiniest mark of imperfection caught on camera if this man didn’t cooperate with her. Dealing with a difficult client was no easy feat, but this wasn’t her first rodeo before — perhaps if the blond would just look up and realise that she was trying to make him look good for the photoshoot. Although on her third attempt to top up his makeup, the comment simply slipped through her lips out of annoyance. “You know,” She chimed. “You’d look much better in the long run if you stop getting angry with whatever it is you’re doing.” There it was, her one way ticket to lose her job. Her mouth had often gotten herself into trouble in the past, and it seemed like old habit never die.

Nathan finally looked up from his phone then, there was a hint of anger in his eyes before it vanished just as quickly when his attention finally focused on her, his expression replaced by an apologetic one. To Ava’s surprise, it wasn’t a snide comment that followed after, but rather a sincere one. “Sorry, work related things. You have my full attention now.” A charming, megawatt smile tugged at the corners of his lips. For a moment, she almost returned the smile, before shaking her head lightly. Celebrities trying to protect their precious image, she assumed, so she didn’t quite care if he apologised or not. 

Two weeks later, Ava had showed up to her workplace only to find a bouquet of sunflowers at her desk. People teased her about it, and there was a faint blush on her cheeks as she read the card:

Sorry for being an asshole. I promise we’re not all like that. — Nathan x

She had heard in the rumour mill that the model just had a messy breakup with his girlfriend. So to receive flowers from him? That seemed rather presumptuous of the man. And so, she threw the card into the trashcan.

She wondered later that day, if his girlfriend — ex-girlfriend was the reason to his mood that day.

II. When all seemed perfect. (New York City, November 2012)

She never thought she was quite ready for commitment until a later stage of her life; yet here Ava was, starting a new life in New York City, two years into said new life with a boyfriend in tow. Nathan wasn’t ever the type of guy she would’ve grew attraction and fondness for, yet somehow he found his way to weasel into her life. Perhaps with new life, came with new expectations.

They were nestled comfortably at a quaint, quiet restaurant that Ava couldn’t pronounce the name of; Nathan’s choice, of course. It didn’t come to her realisation that it was always her boyfriend that made the decision regarding their date night plans. But she loved him, and didn’t care for another thing in the world — as long as they could spend time in each other company, she was content, happy. Free of the life back in Catalina, away from prying eyes of those who knew of her family.

The waiter came by, flashing his most charming smile — Ava found irony in that, from her first meeting with Nathan. Trying to earn as much tips from the pair of them, she supposed, and she made casual conversation with the man. A simple gesture out of politeness, because while she rebelled against her family, her aunt (the only guardian mattered in her life) didn’t raise her to be an asshole. Nathan’s hand had found his way to her knees at some point during that conversation, finding comfort in his touch nonetheless.

"He was flirting with you, you know,” Her boyfriend had commented the moment the waiter was out of earshot, and Ava couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head at him. “It’s lucky that I only have my eyes on you then, isn’t it? But he totally wasn’t flirting with me.” The idea seemed ridiculous. She supposed that perhaps it was a good sign that he was jealous, at least that was what her friends told her anyway.

Reaching over for her glass of wine, her mind didn’t remain on the topic any further. But she didn’t notice how his hand balled up into a fist when she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

III. When true nature unravel. (New York City, July 2013 - August 2017-ish)

She felt hollow inside. Empty. Drained. The car ride home from the hospital had been quiet and somber. Ava couldn’t even muster the energy to utter a word. There was a rush of apologies and cries when they were back in the hospital, the doctor delivering a piece of news that would turn into a living nightmare for her. That was the last of her strength remaining inside her, as she crawled into bed, head buried into her pillow, hoping this would be simply a nightmare that would be all over in the morning. 

She didn’t remember feeling the weight of Nathan on the other side of the bed when she finally drifted to sleep, and only found it to be empty the next morning when she woke up back to her nightmare, her reality.

She didn’t want to talk. Not about what happened. Not about the baby, how the opportunity of having a family slipped right through her fingers. Their friends and family sympathised, offering their words of condolence as the news travelled, when it was evident that the bump in her stomach didn’t grow bigger anymore. 

Their apartment lacked the sound of quiet conversations, and instead replaced with harsh words acted like a dagger into her heart. They fought, a lot. One often would led to neither of them sleeping aside to each other at the end of the night. They both used work as an excuse for their absence, when the truth was their home was now a living reminder of what they couldn’t have. What they had lost. Ava thought that it was her fault, and Nathan wholeheartedly agreed. He’d conjured out the demon inside her, and she fought back, it was both of their ideas to start a family. 

Until one day, he’d lay his hand on her, and the anger vanished. It was replaced with fear. They had stared back at each other in horror, and Nathan crouched down to reach for her, apologise to her, whisper sweet nothings to her.

And they tried therapy. Because Ava sworn to have a better marriage than her father and stepmother. Things were turning for the better. So she forgave him, because she thought she instigated the fights too. They were both in the wrong. 

Until she had forgave him so much that it became a force of habit, and her natural reaction was to flinch away from his touch. 

He always had the talent of apologising and shifting the blame to her in just one sentence.

IV. When past catches up. (Catalina, present time)

It had been over a month since the loss of the funeral home. Over a year into returning back to Catalina, for her aunt, for her own safety. Yet she was at a loss. No matter how there was people around her, who’d sworn would be there for her, she couldn’t articulate her thoughts into words. How she’d wish all her troubles would stop rushing at her at once, allowing her to fix one before taking on another.

Because Ava was a fixer. She was meant to fix thing for people, so why couldn’t she fix her own problems, and instead there was that urge to run?

So she tried to distant herself from others. She pulled no matter how hard they pushed, because it wasn’t fair for her to let them take on this burden for her. With each day, it was knocking more energy out of her. Coming up with no solution to her marriage, uncertainty creeped into her as she thought about the funeral home. Then the proposal. Out of everything, she didn’t expect a proposal. Rory had proposed to her. A memory that she couldn’t shake out of her head, something that she hadn’t foreseen happening — so she distanced herself further.

Ava made excuses and told her friends and family that she’d been busy planning the renovation of the funeral home. But the truth was, she had spent majority of her days driving around the island, only to find her way to the funeral home, or what was left of it, then back to her home. She wondered how her aunt would react to it all, whether she would be disappointed in her. At everything that happened in her life in general. 

Home became emptier than ever. A part of her wanted to reach out of those around her to fill the void, the support system that was there for her — but she couldn’t bear to do it. So she settled for the silence instead, until a knock interrupted the somewhat equilibrium in her household.

Not expecting any guests at all, the brunette wandered over to her door, swinging it open to find a tall, blond, figure towering over her. The sight of him had knocked the air out of her, but of course, it was him that spoke first. It always was.

“You really think a restraining order can keep me away, Aves?” was what Nathan greeted her with.

And the nightmare begun all over again.

[chanbangblog]

ive only felt religion when ive lied with you- 5

A/N: (smut, Chan x reader, Canon compliant, fan/idol)

What the fuck. Wake up y/n. You can wake up anytime now because this shit CANNOT BE REAL. Am I in purgatory? Is this some way of helping me heal my fucked up soul before heading into the afterlife?

You shook your head, being completely still was suddenly making you very anxious. The elevator arrived at your floor and you walked back to your hotel room. You pulled out your key, being glad you had two, because you surely didn’t want to wake Robyn up if she was as tired as you were.

You quietly opened the door and found Robyn asleep holding her plushy once again. The same sight you had awoken to yesterday morning.

Whoa? Was that only yesterday? Has all this shit really went down in the past 24 hours?

Your mind began to spin at the thought, suddenly feeling very emotionally and physically exhausted, you took off your shorts and slipped into bed with Robyn, not even caring to put on pajamas. You were sure Robyn had seen worse things than you in your underwear and a shirt. You laid down next to her as softly as possible, you realized you were shaking as you settled down in the blankets, willing yourself to stop.

You picked your phone up to set an alarm so you didn’t miss check-out when you realized you had a message from Chris asking for yours and “Bluebird’s” information so he could buy your plane tickets. Thankfully you had Robyn’s memorized and you sent it back to him, wondering when he would ever get her name right and fighting the urge to chuckle as you read it again. You set your phone on loud so you wouldn’t miss his next message if you fell asleep.

You felt Robyn move, she turned over and realized you were there and shot up in bed.

“So! What happened?!” she demanded, way to energetic for someone as sleep deprived as the two of you.

“Um I’m wondering the same about you! But first, when do you work again?” you asked, cautious. There was no way you could finish this trip without her.

“Monday…why?” she asked, looking concerned.

“Well, Chris wants us to go to the Texas concert with him tomorrow…” you said slowly, “He’s buying us a hotel room and a plane ticket if we’re willing to go…” you cringed, waiting for her to tell you this was crazy and irresponsible.

“What did you do to him! Damn what the hell, y/n?! You must have pulled out some freaky shit to get him to fall for you this fast!” she screamed, grinning as wide as she could.

“He hasn’t fallen for me!” you said defensively, “I guess he just trusts me not to run my mouth to everyone, except you, obviously, and wants to enjoy it while he can? I don’t know!”

“Trust you not to tell what, exactly?” Robyn smirked. This was unlike her, she never wanted to know details about your sex life.

“Uhhhh…” you smiled and busted out laughing. You both laughed until tears streamed down your faces. You both loved these boys in a way that only a true fan would understand, but now it was taking a different turn for both of you. Then Robyn stopped and looked very serious.

“It feels like you know them, you get to know their personalities through their variety shows, you get to know their talents through their performances, you get to know their lives through their posts on social media. It’s so easy for fans to get lost in this, and feel like they’re closer than what they actually are. So you love and support them from afar, knowing that your lives will never intersect. But here we are, and it doesn’t feel real.” She stated, very calmly, looking in shock.  But her words resonated with you.

“I know Robyn, this was never supposed to happen. It’s like you ‘know’ them but then you actually meet them and realize you actually don’t. There’s so much that will never be portrayed on camera...” You said, trying desperately to articulate all of your emotions into words. Emotions you didn’t know you were fighting until now.  

“The odds of this happening were literally a billion to one, sorry, a trillion to one. So let’s just go with it. We’ve been given a once in a lifetime opportunity and we need to go with it.” She said, starting to smile again.

Your phone buzzed again then, it was Chris, he had sent you a link to your boarding passes, and your flight left at noon as well.

“Robyn, I think we’re on the same flight as them, we gotta get ready and get out of here ASAP.” You said with wide eyes.

You both sprang into action and prayed like hell you caught your flight.

  You stepped out of the taxi at the airport with your carry-on. Robyn lingering behind you. Somehow both of you managed to take a shower and make yourselves look presentable, not sure how long you’d have between getting off the plane and getting to your hotel. Which Chris had already sent you the reservation number for. Would your heart ever calm down and beat normally again? Probably not. You walked through the doors of the airport and started making your way to security.

You looked around and noticed an inordinate amount of people wearing Stray Kids merchandise around you.

Shit. Right. A lot of fans come see them at the airport. I wonder if they’ve arrived yet.

“Let’s ask one of them if they’ve arrived yet,” you mentioned to Robyn who shook her head in agreement.

You started walking toward a mass of Stays when suddenly you heard screeching and knew what it meant. They had begun running toward one of the entrances and security was already there waiting to protect the boys. Cameras started flashing and the herd of fans moved with the boys as they made their way towards security.

You caught a glimpse of Chris, he was wearing his signature black hat and it looked like black sunglasses. But there was no way he’d seen you through the swarms of people around him.

Both yours and Robyn’s mouths dropped. You couldn’t help it. It was odd seeing them like this now, after being so close to them the night before. It felt, cold. You couldn’t describe it. You were both glued where you were standing, helplessly staring at them as they moved past on the other side of the lobby. You didn’t like being this far away. You both were spoiled after hanging out with them once. You scolded yourself mentally for it. The chaos was still following them until they got to the line for security. You didn’t dare move until they had moved so far ahead in line, you couldn’t see them anymore.

“So did that feel…weird to you?” you slowly asked Robyn, turning to her.

“Weird…no. That’s the feeling of us being so fucked.” she announced, confirming your suspicions.

I’m so, so fucked.

 You and Robyn were seated next to each other on the plane. Both trying to sleep, but failing. You realized you had never gotten the details about her night with Jisung so you decided to probe her now.

“So, what did you and Jisung do?” you asked, trying hard not to sound nosy.

“Well we ate dinner and it was delicious. We talked and stuff. Honestly, I was so nervous but we started talking about what got me interested in kpop and other groups I like and it started to feel more normal. I made him watch a shit ton of Seventeen crack videos and I honestly think he enjoyed them.” She laughed.

“So you all stayed up all night?” you asked, their night seeming much more…tame, than yours.

“Yeah, eventually we started playing games, he had brought his Nintendo Switch and I kicked his ass on Mario Kart.” she said cooly.

“So you all didn’t…?”you questioned, knowing she would know where this was going.

“No, you know I don’t do that.” she giggled, “but we did low-key cuddle laying on the bed playing video games.” she stated, voice rising, almost to a squeal.

You couldn’t help it, you squealed back. That just sounded too cute for you to handle.

“I know, I know, I meant like did you cuddle or hold hands or anything. I know you, my dear Robyn.” You said, while grabbing her arm to hold on to her and lay your head on her shoulder.

“Do I want to know details about you two?” she asked, trying to sound stern.

“Probably not,” you said, smiling.

“Understood.” She said back.

You stayed like that. Holding on to your best friend, flying over god knows what state below, to a city you’d never been to, halfway across the country, to be with a guy you had just met less than 24 hours before. But somehow you knew you were making the right decision by going. You didn’t know if you had tickets to the concert, you knew you’d never see Chris again after you left Houston. But it felt right, and you found comfort in it. You clung to that feeling, praying it wouldn’t leave, as sleep finally found you.