#not just physically like. yeah that too obviously he spent years getting to know what she liked

[nejackdaw]

Okay so did I ever write the Celann and Charlotte lore post. No. I didn't even finish the UESP deep dive. However. I am very thinking about Celann and the way he worships Charlotte

[alexthebordercollie]

Ford's autism

K so I don't think I need to defend the interpretation Ford is on the spectrum. People make jokes about him being autistic all the time. We all see it. What I want to do here is sort of connect together some character details and examine them through the lense of my own autistic experiences.

I wanna start with his hands. It's an observation I've seen from multiple people that Ford is insecure about his hands and often hides them behind his back or in his pockets. And yeah, he is obviously insecure about them. He even mentions his six fingers at times when they aren't really relevant to anything. It just showcases the space this physical deviation of his takes up in his mind. And yes, it makes sense that he's insecure about them because he was bullied for them growing up. I want to add to this observation.

Ford would have been bullied regardless.

The problem was never really his hands. When you're on the spectrum people around you can tell that you're weird. Uncanny. Something is different and feels wrong about you to NT people, especially kids. They will pick any shallow superficial thing they can find as an excuse to bully you and justify the sense of revulsion they feel around you but can't articulate. If Ford had been born with normal hands they just would have made fun of him for something else, it would have been his glasses, or the movies he liked, or hell maybe some good old-fashioned antisemitism. Literally, any excuse they could find.

I know growing up I tried for years to change the things about me that I was made fun of for and it never made things any better. The bullying never stopped. "Fixing" things about myself didn't work because the thing that was actually "broken" was something fundamental to who I am. That realization as a kid was soul-crushing. That there was nothing I could do that would ever make me "normal", that would ever make people like me. I felt like an alien born on the wrong planet.

Ford continues to latch onto his hands as a sore spot because they're something simple and obvious he can point to as an excuse for why he's so outcast. He probably knows by this point that the hands aren't actually the problem. I'd argue this journal entry and his comment about "another failed social interaction" shows that he's aware his hands aren't actually the problem. But, it is a lot easier to fixate on those than to dwell directly on that sinking feeling that at the core of you're being you are fundamentally weird, wrong, unlovable. Ford's a genius. If his polydactyly bothered him that much he could have removed the extra digits. The hands aren't the problem, they're a symbol of a more fundamental kind of pain.

Looking at it through this context also makes the gloves Fiddleford gives him an extra sweet gift given what they represent. A kind of wholehearted acceptance of who Ford is and even a willingness to adapt to his unique needs just to show him love and affection. I think something that hurts me so much about their relationship is that Ford had someone who very clearly loved him as is and would have never wanted him to be someone or something else, and Ford was too stubborn to fully appreciate that.

The same is true of Stanely by the by. He never had a problem with his brother being weird. Another relationship with someone who loved Ford as is but who Ford took for granted. He needs these kinds of relationships in his life. People who embrace and accept him for the weirdo he is. He needs them desperately, which gets me to my next point.

Ford's ego. So it's also a common observation that Ford has a massive ego. He's kind of an ass, to put it mildly. But I have had someone in conversation frame it like the pressure to prove themselves was just on Stanley and Ford just spent his whole life being hyped up and told he was hot shit. This isn't true, or at least it's a flattening of his experiences.

Ford was praised for his genius. This is true. But his own father only gave a shit when said genius showed signs of netting material gains for the family. It only mattered cause Ford could be useful. Furthermore, this genius never netted him social acceptance from his peers growing up. He was still a bullied, weirdo, loser most of his childhood. Add that seeing Stanley kicked out would have drilled into Ford's head that if he couldn't make something out of himself his family wouldn't want him either. Stan was an unspoken threat of what this family does to failures.

Gonna bring up my own personal experiences again. Having set the stage for how it feels growing up on the spectrum. That feeling of alienness that you can't really explain. I loved to write and draw from a very young age. Moreover, as I got older I realized that when I drew, people were nice to me. The only time I got social acceptance was when people were admiring or praising me for my art. So I did it more and more, I devoted myself feverishly to my art. I loved it anyway and would have hyper-fixated on it regardless but the positive reinforcement turned art from something I loved to a need. I NEEDED to be an artist. I needed to be the best at my school. I needed all eyes on my work because it was the only way I could make friends. The only way I could prove that I had value. That I deserved a place in society.

I see that in Ford. I see his ego not as shallow narcissism but as an overwhelming need to prove his value as a person. To be loved and accepted and believing that no one will want him if he isn't brilliant. If he doesn't change the world. If he isn't useful. This is also why he couldn't bring himself to destroy his research even knowing it was the safest and most responsible option. Burning down everything he worked for would mean finally giving up on the fantasy of ever being accepted or valuable.

The sad thing is he's so single-mindedly fixated on this personal goal of proving his worth to the world that when people do come along that love him unconditionally he takes them for granted. These people are statistical anomalies in his life. Nice to have around, but not enough to fix the bigger problem. They aren't reflective of society at large. They aren't enough to prove that he, personally, is loveable. Just that on occasion he meets another weirdo. For a while it's nice. Like a campfire in a barren tundra. But he has to keep moving, he can't stay. Warmer lands are ahead if he can just get to them. If he can just keep moving.

This also is why Ford was so susceptible to Bill. Bill told Ford what he wanted to hear. That he was destined for greatness. That, the fundamental wrongness he felt all his life was something incredible other people just couldn't see. Bill promised Ford exactly what he wanted, but not what he actually needed. Ford never needed the world at large to accept him. He just needed a few good people.

I also think his chemistry with Bill was connected to his autistic experiences as well. Bill is literally an alien. There's no pressure to mask around him. To try and "act normal". Ford can just be himself with Bill and not have to think about it. And sure, he could be himself around Fiddleford, but Fidds is still human. The anxieties of human social expectations are still present. Like when Fidds get him a gift for the holidays and Ford feels a bit guilty that it didn't even occur to him to do the same. He doesn't have to think about these social nuances with Bill.

That said I'm sure Bill isn't what his world would have considered neurotypical anyway. Not that Ford would know that. But Bill was also a strange freak in his own society. Just as outcast, possibly more so. I think Bill sees a bit of his own experiences reflected in Ford. I think he relates to him on a level. Not that he would ever admit it outright due to his own ego. I think Bill's fixation on him after the breakup also stems from Ford rejecting the path that Bill chose for himself. Bill still lives with some sort of deeply repressed guilt for what he did. Imagine how validating it would have been to see someone else like him burn their own world to the ground for the same reasons Bill did. But no, Ford's a better man than him, and Bill can't stand it.

Ok, I don't know how to end this long-ass monologue so I'm gonna call it here I guess. I just wanted to spill some thoughts of mine about Ford as a character. If anyone else wants to add to this with other examinations of Ford's character through this lense go right ahead. I'm just saying as an autistic person myself I understand every choice Ford made. I could relate to why he did the things he did even if I know those were mistakes and even acknowledging that he's kind of an asshole. Ford is a strange man who makes an eerie amount of sense to me.

[idlerin]

love sick — 05. it’s all cliché and full of obvious red flags

romance 101; guideline #18 — before anything else, to love someone is to love yourself first.

the squeak of the ball hitting the ground and shoes sliding across the vinyl flooring were the sounds you heard as you spent the past hour or so watching grown men consistently smashing a ball. you were one to play your roles well but you did not find that much of an interest in sports in general. you understood why people enjoyed them but it never really became your “thing”. as you watch your quote-en-quote boyfriend on the court, you’re beginning to see the appeal.

you had eyes, it was no wonder why so many people fell for suna rintarou if you only consider his physical attributes from afar. maybe it was his gaze? It was the kind that lures you in, he doesn’t look particularly interested most of the time, perhaps that was why people get a kick when he reacts differently. people have their preferences so you wouldn’t put it past them to be attracted to suna’s kind, those who make you want to learn more about them because of how reserved they are.

you look at your phone to check the time, it is 1:30 pm, their practice was supposed to end early. “early” because they began at around 6 in the morning, you could never even imagine running in the morning.

you sighed, it wasn’t like being in the gymnasium was that bad. your friends, atsumu and kageyama were here too since they were part of the team but other than that you were a total loner. sure, there are some other people here with business you don’t know of and some just there to watch and you could probably approach one of them to get some company… but that meant you had to further the conversation, you usually do have a lot of things to say but that’s exactly the problem.

your mind wanders to a conversation you had with a person the other day instead, their name was… hayami? yeah, it was hayami. she wanted to approach you about this certain situation she was in. her friend of four years confessed to her and she didn’t know what to do because she didn’t know if she liked him back in that way. throughout the years she’s had several “what-ifs” about liking this friend but it was never really a strong emotion. now that he’s confessed to her, she doesn’t know how to properly respond and she ended up running away from him. she's afraid he thinks she hates him now.

the first thing you told her was that it was okay to feel confused because she didn’t have to name a proper emotion for it right now, being ���sure” of liking someone can take time. you advised her to tell him that she needs time to think first so he isn’t left hanging and that whatever she decides what to do, he should be able to understand. hayami voiced out her worries that she didn’t want to hurt his feelings because of how much she treasured their friendship. you replied by stating that not saying and telling what she meant from the beginning could hurt her and him more in the long run.

“head in the clouds?” a voice you’ve recently become used to reach your ears. you jerk your head back only to see suna in front of you, a towel slung over his shoulder.

“are you done?” your shoulders resigned from the previous bit of shock at his presence, you really were too lost in your thoughts.

“yeah, i’ll just get some things from the changing room,” he said, you nodded while your eyes drifted behind him. atsumu was wiggling his eyebrows at you and you resisted the urge to grimace.

“i’ll go with you,” you exclaim, sick and tired of sitting on the bench.

“didn’t know [name] the sweetheart was such a perv,” suna raised a brow at you.

“excuse you?” you asked, confused.

“i’m going to change,” suna deadpanned, “if you wanted to watch i’d let you.”

you shook your head, at a loss for words for once in your life, “that was obviously not what i meant, but i’ve already had my hands on you, right?” you smile, recalling yesterday when you bombarded him with a hug acting like a girlfriend who missed her boyfriend very very much. your mind was then brought back to your cupcakes which were unapologetically ruined, you mourn your hours of hard work, “so what’s a little sight-seeing?” you continue to tease, standing up.

now you’ve made him speechless, he thought he could win? hah not as long as you still have your wits about you.

“nice to know you think i’m such a view, i’d assume you enjoyed yourself for the past few hours then?” suna started walking before you could retort, you were left to follow him with a small smile on your face due to amusement.

on your way to the lockers, you saw kageyama still practicing, he really could not catch a break, wasn’t practice over? meanwhile, atsumu was making grand gestures towards you and suna, and you wished you had something to throw at him. unfortunately for you and fortunate for him, you only brought your phone out with you today (you had no classes, okay, you initially planned to catch up on some reading today, ann liang’s this time it’s real—which was coincidentally about fake dating as well—was waiting for you at home).

“hey, what were you going to give me today?” you finally ask, you didn’t get to properly talk about it with him since he was busy training. you were leaning on the wall next to the entrance of their changing rooms, he was the only one in there so it was fine to act casual.

it took a minute or two before suna finally came out, duffel bag over his shoulder where the towel once was and cloth scrunched in his hands. said cloth was then tossed to you, you almost dropped it since your reflexes aren’t that quick.

“my extra jersey, wear it on the game this sat,” suna said casually as he watched you hold his jersey up, the number 7 plastered on it, the name suna on the back. how many times have you read and watched main characters in books and films cheer for their significant other while wearing their jerseys? now you are going to partake in that sports romance trope, how funny reality can be!

“oh is that all? what else do we do for today?” your head tilts to the side.

“i heard there’s an event in the campus grounds today, i was thinking we could go there since there would be a lot of people,” suna urged you to start walking and follow him with a simple nudge of his head.

“alright, i’ll warn you now though i didn’t bring any money,” you said with a skip in your step, still clutching the shirt since you don’t have anywhere to leave it in, “can you put this in your bag first, though?”

“who said you were paying?” he said casually while taking his jersey and placing it in his bag for a second.

you froze for a moment, “could you stop acting like a k-drama male lead?”

this made suna chuckle, he chuckled, you don’t think you’ve even seen the man smile, “you caught on quickly, huh? osamu’s been recommending me shows so that i could ‘learn by example’ whatever that means.”

right, you keep forgetting the suna is in the same friend group as atsumu and his brother, you know there’s this other guy in the group too named omiomi something? atsumu wouldn’t shut up about him. you’ve met osamu briefly before but you wouldn’t say that you were properly acquainted with him, you do see him a lot on campus because you get startled by how much him and atsumu look alike.

“i’m a matchmaker, i’m clearly well-versed in all forms of romantic media,” you say in a ‘duh’ tone.

“you can carry us then, acting romantic isn’t for me,” suna shrugged.

“no, you have to do your part,” you insist, as you step out of the gymnasium.

“what you want me to hold your hand or something?”

“that would be a good start,” you say, holding your hand out to him. he stares at it as if it’s some unknown species, and then he wordlessly extends his hand to intertwine with yours.

masterlist — previous | next

❥ fun facts !

it was only recently that [name] got addicted to strawberry flavored drinks.

semi has gigs weekly that [name] always goes to watch.

atsumu once during april fools convinced osamu to wear matching clothes from head to toe and wear matching caps to see how many people would confuse them for each other.

love sick ! a suna rintarou social media au

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

a/n — gotta love a man that insults you (just kidding, suna rintarou is the exception).

taglist is OPEN ! + (1/2) @yas-mjm @agirlwholovesalot @yenqa @fairywriter-oracle @noideawhothatis @alienvarmint @renardiererin @cheezitwh0re @yaboiithewreck @zephestia @nicerthanu @wolffmaiden @2baddies-1porsche @bluegrey02 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @lylovw @fo-love @cloudsvna @haruskatana @apinu @coyloves @rockleeisbaeeee @geombyu @girlkissersco @reveusecherie @mwhahahalasagna @megumiif @erenjvegerrr @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ris-krispie @kamikokii @complexivelovely @justabreadslice @hearts4faey @yuzurins @eleanorheartschishiya @hearts4itoshi @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @rijhi @sleepystrwbrryy @snail-squasher @seiamor @wave2love @le000xxgrd @iuspired @theidontknowmehn @linmabbe @rntrsuna @tenaciouswritersheep

if i can not tag you, please change your mentions settings to “everyone” thank you!

[8-rae-rae-8]

He's sick, they told him. His doctors, his parents. And god did their cruel words ever worsen. His date was sealed the day his paperwork was filed.

"Simon Riley [Little: 0-3]"

Just like that his life was over, age 12 and unable to run away with every piece of paper work and documentation making him permanently his father's. Oh how it made his skin crawl.

Years were spent fighting himself back. He'd shrink to that headspace, and so would his body. But his parents didn't wipe his tears or clean him up. Poor Tommy took a lot of it. A caregiver by nature, but an addict because of their father. His mother was practically out of the picture with how little she could help.

His first thought was military. But the more research he did, the less it seemed possible. Any job deemed scary or laborious wasn't allowed for a little. It was even on his fucking ID when he was old enough to save one. By 18, he was making Tommy sign in appwroek claiming that Simon was neutral. And as Tommy was listed a legal carer (his father's doing), it went through. Tommy was too high, hungover or sick to realize what he was doing, which Simon took advantage of.

It took years for him to crash again. Years to curl up in his bed in the cold, cold room he stayed in. Lieutenant, they called him. His team. His Captain, Mactavish, what would he think? His other teammates... Gaz, Roach. God they'd be disgusted.

The size of a baby curled up under a ton of blankets just waiting to feel big again. All he could do was hide anyway. No one should ever be allowed to see him like this-Simon didn't even think they'd hesitate to throw him out. Come morning, it was no easier. He was still too tiny to even get himself out of bed. He'd fall on the floor, that's how tiny he was. He probably couldn't even walk...

How late was he for breakfast? The alarm went off earlier, causing him to screech in terror before he pulled his blankets back over himself. It was a dandelion game to play, getting to far into the military then crashing in bed and physically unable to get help and unable to get himself to feel big again.

It was all scary. Terrifying, even. In any other situation, his captain would be right at his side. Mactavish would've been there. But this? For this he was alone. Always alone.

He's sick. Something in his head made him sick. Different from everyone else and weak. Weak because he of his fear. Because of his regression... Some days he was lucky almost all of his file was blacked out, others not so much. He needed help.

And the longer he stayed in bed, unable to get out, just the size of a wee kiddo, maybe it would come. Mactavish always came to him if he wasn't at meal times on time.

Soon enough that familiar knock rang through his room. Fuck, Simon couldn't help the cry that came from him. His chest heaving with the intensity of it. In no more than a second, Mactavish was in the room and looking for him.

It only took a minute for Simon to be lifted into the captain's arms. Sobs falling from his lips as his tiny hands grabbed at his shirt.

"Are ye my Si, wee one?" Mactavish asked, swaying with him. Of course he was, but it was pretty much instinct to be a little playful and sweet like that.

Obviously Simon couldn't exactly respond. He tugged at his shirt weakly, his little legs kicking at the air as he cried.

"Oh, Si... Simon, love..." Soap murmured. His heart beating insanely fast with the little one clutching onto him. He didn't even know Simon regressed... He has his suspicions, but this? Regressing so small? Small enough to fit perfectly on his chest with just one hand holding him?

The wailing settled enough for Simon to hear Mactavish talking to him. His captain but that didn't matter anymore- He didn't see a captain looking at him, maybe a friend instead. He tugged at his shirt and whimpered.

"yeah, I know... Ye're too small, huh? Didn't ye get taught to ask for help when ye need it, wee one?" Mactavish asked softly, brushing over the very short hair on his head. Dark, not quite black though. Carefully, he sat back on Simon's bed with him in his arms, tears reduced to hiccups.

"I wish ye woulda told me, Simon... Somethin' stressed ye out and ye crashed... Not good for ye." Mactavish told him, rocking Simon in his arms. Slow and gentle. "Do ye even have anything for this?" He worried.

And Simon couldn't tell him, only point or whine. But no, no he didn't have anything because he never wanted this to happen. He thought he could control it enough- but no, he couldn't. He was weak.

"Simon, hey, M'eudail... It's okay. We'll get ye stuff." Soap didn't know how he'd get him off base without being seen, he didn't say that to Simon though. He needed the little one's trust.

"I know ye're scared.. I've got this, okay? I've got you." Mactavish promised him. Using a smaller blanket he found, he gently swaddled Simon up and got him cozy. The little one didn't whine or cry, he actually relaxed quite a bit.

Simon babbled up at Soap, wiggling before settling into the warm blanket.

"Oh yeah, baby? Tell me." Soap cooed softly at him as he picked Simon back up. All swaddled and cute. Albeit a little messy.

Simon giggled and babbled a little more at the encouragement. For the first time, he didn't feel scared when he was small. He wasn't going to be shouted at, hit, or anything else... He should know his captain was safe, this was just surprising...

"Yeah?? That's a lot, Darlin'." Mactavish was so sweet. Feuling his babbling while he made sure Simon was comfortable.

The two went back and forth with babbling for a long while, until they did have to figure out where to get Simon things like pacis and other baby needs. Though he should have, Soap didn't really hide Simon, just covering his face since he knew that he wouldn't want people seeing. So he held Simon just right and let him nuzzle into his neck. The few people that saw were definitely confused, but no on questioned it. Not with Mactavish glaring at anyone who tried.

Of course he didn't drive, he carefully walked with Simon in his arms to a near by town to grab the things they needed. The basics, pacis, dips, bottles, formula, and some baby bath stuff. And Simon squealed at the bubble bath stuff that Soap grabbed, making him chuckle and poke Si's side.

Getting back into base was the same thing, glaring at anyone who asked anything about the little one on his chest. He wasn't up for questions and he didn't want Si being pestered later when he was big. It was easier to avoid. The first thing he did when inside his own room, he got Simon padded up and a cleaned paci (washed in his sink just in case).

Simon didn't whine or kick his legs. He was well behaved, actually... He babbled a little, muffled by his paci but Soap still responded.

Oh how he loved it... It was so easy to relax like this. Being put gently back over Mactavish's chest while swaddled up all comfortable. How could he not relax?

Being talked to helped a lot too, Mactavish's voice working to ease him further. Si liked the gentle rumble of his chest and hearing his silly accent.

A nap was in order the second Simon's eyes began to close. Soap swayed with him side to side while humming an unfamiliar tune to him, but it all felt safe nonetheless. There was no pushing for a nap, no leaving him in a room and waiting for him to pass out. No, this was gentle coaxing until he fell asleep naturally.

Maybe this would all go away in the morning, but maybe it would be okay to happen again- Mactavish wasn't cruel. He showed no signs of mistrust or betrayal about Simon's many lies regarding his classification. He was just as warm as he usually was to him, if not more.

Simon was safe like this. Happy and warm. Never had he fallen asleep so easily before. Protected by his Captain's arms and comforted by his voice. There was no better person to be helped by.

[oliveisme533]

My dad’s neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 4

Joel Miller x You

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

Warnings: abusive ex is back. Verbal abuse and physical violence (not against reader)

You roll over in your bed with a groan and stretch your arms. Grabbing your phone you check the time 10:03. Early for you. You decide to hop in the shower before your dad can ask you to help pick up fallen branches in the yard from last nights storm. You let the scolding water hit your body and you draw in a deep breath. Tomorrow was Monday which meant your dad would be back to work and you wouldn't have anyone to talk to or hang out with until 5 o'clock. Rinsing the soap from your face you contemplated just what to do with tomorrow, in fact you were beginning to wonder how to make use of your summer in general. The last couple weeks of doing nothing had been a much needed reprieve from your busy life, but you were starting to get a little stir crazy. You turned off the water, still deep in thought when you heard your phone buzzing. You tiptoed over to your bedside table and saw Joel's name lighting up the screen. "Why is he calling me?" You pick up the phone ...

Hello Hey sweetheart didn't wake ya did I? No no I've been up...for a few minutes (Joel chuckled) Well hey listen, one of my coworkers was looking for a sitter for tonight. He and the Misses are going out and their regular girl can't make it. Any interest in an easy job for the night? Oh yeah I can definitely do that. God know I've got nothing else going on. Okay I'll send you the info! Thanks darlin'

Obviously he wasn't calling just because he wanted to chat with you. It was a stupid thing to even hope for. The rest of the day went by relatively slowly, but when 6 o'clock rolled around you put some snacks in your back pack, a phone charger, and a book you had been trying to finish for several weeks now. The babysitting was easy. It was one kid, she was four years old and for the most part did whatever you asked. The parents told you they would be out late so when 11:45 rolled around you weren't surprised they hadn't come home yet. The house was quiet...too quiet. You never much liked this part of being a baby sitter. It was different when you did it for Sarah. The millers house was always warm and full of life. Those nights when Joel did get home a little later you felt safe curling up in on his couch with the TV on. Most of the times you would fall asleep like that and Joel would drive you home the next day after making you and Sarah breakfast. You smile at the memory. The sounds of the house settling are enough to snap you from this daydream down memory lane. "Fuck I really don't like this huge, quiet house. What if I call someone to keep me company. Dad will be asleep, so would mom and my sister. I bet Joel Miller is awake..." you stare at your phone and contemplate this next move. "Fuck it" you mutter and tape his name. The phone only rings a couple of times before you hear Joel's husky voice. A twinge of guilt shoots through you as you fear you've woken him up.

Hello? Everything okay? Hey, yeah I'm so sorry did I wake you? I was just restin' my eyes that's all. I ain't in bed yet. Well I just- I really don't like being in these houses all by myself. It sounds stupid but it's kinda scary I guess. 'S not stupid. You want someone to talk to-keep ya company? Yeah... and I figured you'd be awake still, but I guess I figured wrong You're all right honey, I really don't mind. I needed to get off this couch and sleep in my bed any how. But how 'bout you tell me about your day? My day was pretty boring honestly. I played with the cat, ate some ice cream and watched TV Wat'd ya watch? Love island What in the hell is that?

You laughed and proceeded to tell him all about the show. A little while passed and then you heard the lock click and knew the parents were home. You told Joel you had to go to which he responded "alright let me know when you get home safe. Can call me if you want." Back home you pondered whether or not you should call Joel. It was late and you were feeling tired, but you wanted to talk to him. After slipping into your pajamas you felt like you could hardly stay awake much longer, but you were determined to take advantage of this invitation from Joel to call him. So you tapped his name and watched the phone ring. You put it to your ear and your heart sank with each unanswered ring. When it went to voicemail you resolved that he had likely fallen asleep and you decided to do the same.

The next day you woke up early (ish) at 9:00. Your dad had already left for work. You roll over in your bed to check your phone and your heart pounds.

Missed call from Joel Miller 36m ago

You're hoping he's not at work yet and call him back quickly. "Hey sweetheart" he picks up within a few rings. "Sorry I missed your call last night. I ended up falling asleep and didn't hear the phone." It was so nice to hear his voice first thing in the morning. "Oh you don't need to apologize. I didn't really need anything, I just like talking to you" you could almost hear Joel grin as he said "well I like talkin' to you too sugar" you had walked down to your kitchen to put on a pot of coffee at this point when you say "hey why aren't you at work?" "Waitin for some parts to come in for this current job. Until they do there's nothin else I can really do. But the parts are supposed to be here by noon... so I'll get my ass to work in a couple hours" you notice a note taped to the fridge as Joel finishes saying all this. "I completely forget" you mutter to yourself, but apparently Joel hears. "What'd you forget?" "My dad left me a note reminding me that he's gone on a business trip and won't be back until Thursday." "Oh that's right. Your dad did mention that. Told me to keep an eye out for ya." "Did he really? "Yeah I mean you're going to be by yourself in that big house for almost 3 days" "I'm a grown ass woman though!" Joel chuckled. "No ones sayin you ain't, darlin. Dads worry and that don't change from when you're 5 or when you're 25" "I guess that's fair enough" you shrug. "I should get my day started here... might go on a run and catch up on laundry" "Well if you need anything the next couple of days just hollar" You hang up the phone with brief goodbyes and run your fingers through your tangled bed head. You groan as you massage your temple. "What the fuck am I doing?? I'm catching feelings for Joel fucking Miller. What's worse is that I'm flirting with him too"

Against your better judgement you decide to text Joel later in the day Hey what time you get off tonight? I should be wrapping up by 7...Why? You want to swing by for dinner? Nothing fancy. I'm just bored and I don't love being here alone in the evenings for long periods of time lol. Well I ain't gonna turn you down for some dinner. I'll see you at 7:30. Can I pick anything up at the store for ya on my way there? Well if you're offering... maybe some ice cream? And a bottle of rosè You got it

The rest of the day went by slowly. 7:30 couldn't get here fast enough. You were hoping for something to happen tonight with Joel, but you weren't sure what that would be. You hadn't decided if the lingering glances from him were just something you were imagining or actually happening. Around 6:30 you decide to hope in the shower and of course shave...because you never know right? After your shower you settle on wearing a simple, linen dress that's super comfortable and not all that fancy.  At exactly 7:30 you hear the doorbell ring. You jump off the sofa to answer it, your heart in your throat. But when you open the door, you're afraid you might be sick. It's not Joel Miller who stands there, but your toxic ex boyfriend ...Ben.

"What the fuck are you doing? You need to leave" Ben smirks. "Aren't you a delight. I just wanted to talk to you, and since you've block my number I had to take matters into my hands." Your heart was racing. Ben had never shown any physical violence against you, but you didn't know what he was capable and you didn't want to find out. "I thought I made myself really fucking clear that we are over" you said with a shaky voice. "Baby I just don't think you get to make that call. I mean I've done so much to make this relationship work. You can't just throw all that away. You know you're never going to find another guy who puts up with your shit." That was it. Something in you snapped. Something that had been brewing for literally years was about to come out. "No fuck you!" You shoved him in the chest with both palms and he stumbled back just a step, caught off guard by your motion. "Screw you! I don't need a guy to put up with anything about me, you asshole. You act like you're some fucking hero for tolerating the fact that I struggle with my mental health and stuff!" Ben was fuming now. You had never laid hands on him and you could tell the shove had lit something inside him too. "You have issues you know that?! You have fucking issues in your head!" He screamed at you getting up in your face and grabbing your arms tightly, pinning them to your sides. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joel's truck coming down the street and pulling into your drive way. Ben was now shaking you and yelling "YOU'RE SUCH A BITCH.." he didn't get to finish his sentence because a firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him backwards.

If looks could kill...you had never seen such an expression on Joel. He looked like he could tear Ben to pieces right then and there, yet he maintained a calm composure. "I suggest you get the fuck off this porch and don't come back, son" Joel said in a low voice. Ben scoffed. "Get out of here, old man. This ain't your business" Ben spat. "Son, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." Ben let his head fall back and let out a chuckle that sent a chill down your spine. "Is that so?" Without warning Ben threw a punch and Joel and narrowly missed "Ben!" You shrieked. Ben straightened up sent another punch. Joel grabbed his wrist, mid punch and yanked him in close. Joel towered over him. "Do not make me repeat myself again. I said get the fuck off this porch, or things will get ugly." At this Joel shoved Ben forcefully away, causing him to stumble backwards. Ben still looked angry, but now there was a hint of fear in his eyes too. He gave you one last glare and then jogged back to his car.

As soon as Ben's car sped off. Joel sun around. "Are you okay??" He asked, grabbing your face in his hands. "Um yeah" you managed to squeak. "I mean that fucking scared me tho." Joel looked like he might be sick. "I am so sorry wasn't here at 7:30. If I got here on time- " "Joel come on you don't need to do that. It's not like either of us had any idea Ben would show up here. I'm glad you came when you did though." Joel massaged the bridge of his nose. He looked stressed and was probably imaging what would have happened if he didn't show up at all. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to rid himself of the notion. "Joel look at me I'm fine!" You said pulling his hand away from his face. Joel took your hand in his and stroked it with his thumb. "Okay" he said softly. "Did you get my ice cream?" You said trying to change the subject. A smile tugged at his mouth. "Yeah I did, baby"

You had made spaghetti for dinner, about one of the only dishes you were confident in preparing. You and Joel sat at the table in silence and you watched as he pushed his food around. "I'm sorry I'm not a chef...if you want we could just order a pizza?" You suggested. Joel looked up at you seemingly caught off guard. "No no no it's not that! The meal is delicious. I guess I just don't have an appetite. That's all." You pushed back from the table and the chair scraping against the hardwood made Joel jump slightly. "Baby I didn't mean to offend you it's just" you laughed as you reached for the shelf above the stove "Joel I'm not mad I'm just looking for something." Joel slowly walked towards where you were balancing on a stool trying to get the top door of the cabinet open. "Um...what's that?" You grunted as you finally got hold of what it was you were looking for. "My dad's red wine. It's gross too me, but he always says red wine gives you an appetite." You hopped off the stool and thrust the bottle into his chest. "Where's the wine you got me? I would like to get into that like asap." Before waiting for a response you went into the other room where the grocery bag still sat with the ice cream and wine and dug out the bottle. You hastily removed the top and began drinking. "Y/n...slow down what are you doing?" You removed the bottle from your lips and wiped your mouth. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Joel's face was laced with concern. "Okay that's enough. I'm calling your dad, you can stay at mine until he gets home. I'm sure he'll book the first flight back when he hears.." you didn't let Joel finish. He had tried to grab the bottle from your hands "no, fuck off I'm a grown woman. I don't need you calling me dad to tell on me or whatever." Joel placed both hands in his hair and squeezed his head "sweetheart you're clearly not okay! And for good reason... will you just let me help you? I'm worried about you. This shit wasn't in any of the parenting books I read before Sarah.." "you're not my dad!" "No no I'm not saying that I just" ... "is that all this is? You want to fill the void of not having your daughter at home this summer. So you come over here to parent me because my dad's not here? I don't fucking need that Joel I don't want you to see me that way."

...to be continued

[lover-of-mine]

Can I submit for the buddie begins idea. Obviously it all starts in the kitchen. And maybe the back and fourth you guys are talking about is definitely the living room. But can we please have the Christopher r3lated stuff happen in there. Like Eddie sort of storms in there and vaguely gestures around. Look how weird we are, I made you gaurdian to my son 2 years after knowing you and didn't tell you for a year!!! It would be such validation for me as a viewer to get will acknowledgement!!!!

Okay, like, my plan is starting in the dining room actually, then you have Eddie run to the living room and then you have Buck chase Eddie into the kitchen. Love love LOVE living room to talk about Chris. Hear me out, we're mirroring situations. In my head, the buddie beings episode happens after one of them almost dies the episode before and it pushes Buck into action. I didn't have something specific in mind until @lesbianrobin made this post and I legit keep building my buddie begins fantasy on top of that situation. Read their post, it's incredible, but basically it suggests Eddie and Maddie in a situation and almost dying, Buck thinks he's gonna lose them both, somehow both of them make it out, but for a second when Buck sees Maddie, he thinks that means Eddie is dead, until he sees Eddie and rushes to him. So picking up from that. Don't make anything actually happen at the scene for whatever reason, like, end the episode with both of them hugging or whatever. I like this idea a lot because it makes the episode about madney too, so we're not forcing 2 episodes solely about buddie. Then we open the next episode the way I pitched the buddie begins episode, you start with Buck a bit frantic as he knocks on Eddie's door. At this point, we all know they're in love with each other and are just waiting, it's day time, Chris is at school. And we start the conversation in the dining room. Why the dining room? During Eddie's breakdown conversations happened there. So we have both of them sit down on the table to talk trauma backwards. The most recent thing, Eddie gets aggravated and starts talking about the lightning, all around those we are getting the flashbacks the way I had said to add some more context to scenes we already have. We reach the shooting. Shooting makes Buck bring up the will. Eddie then decides he can't hear Buck talk about the will as a backup plan or whatever and starts moving towards the living room where they talk about Buck's place in Chris' life. Why is that important to be in the living room? Eddie fights with Shannon about her place in Chris' life in the living room, that scene in 408 where Buck is babysitting? Living room. Eddie asking Buck to talk to Chris during 710? Living room, so your idea to keep Chris stuff there is genius. Again, all these are weaved with flashbacks to add new context to buddie moments, Buck keeps fighting about it "why did you hide it from me" and Eddie decides to run, so he goes down the hallway back into the kitchen and we get the last flashback, the one with Bobby telling Eddie about Buck while trying to poach him from station 6. We're back in the present, Buck is following Eddie into the kitchen, this is the first time they stop without something between them, through the whole thing keep something physically between them, the table, the couch, and we're in the kitchen now. The place of vulnerability. Where they listen to each other. Buck asks what does it all mean, Eddie is mumbling excuses. Buck gets tired and just says something kinda like "because it kinda sounds like you love me" and Eddie kinda looks like a deer caught in headlights "and I love you but you need to want this" Buck gets closer "do you want this?" they're close enough to touch "do you want me?" and then Eddie is reaching for Buck while nodding "yeah-i love you-just come here" and they are kissing. Bam, buddie is canon, history is made.

Yes, I've spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about this kspakapakapkapaa I can see it so clearly. Come on 911, just hire me, I can do so much for the show.

[isa-ghost]

happy early borth use me as a vessel to infodump about your qphil headcanons immediately that’s an order >:D

This too-broad I Just Wanna Hear You Be Abnormal About Your Guy prompting thing is gonna become an inside joke between us I s2g

I think rather than hcs I'm gonna go on a rant about this sTUPID MOTHERFUCKERS WACK ASS BRAIN. YOU ARE YOUR OWN BIGGEST EMOTIONAL DETRIMENT, YKNOW THAT qPHILLIP MINECRAFT? GOD.

This entire thing applies to AMFMN Phil btw

That son of a bitch is such a MESS. He's so deep in his own bullshit he doesn't even see the times he contradicts himself or acts like a hypocrite.

He has to care for everyone (he feels obligated to as the Usually Oldest And Wisest + being constantly put into the paternal/caretaker role) but god forbid anyone takes care of him, even when he needs it most. When people take care of him he feels like he's failed somehow and he gets this not-quite ashamed or embarrassed feeling, but still Distinctly Uncomfortable And Awkward nonetheless.

He's like thousands of years old and has had more life experience to handle stress 100x heavier than "just a scratch" or "feeling a bit sad." He's spent decades just fucking around risking his life in hardcore mode, which puts near-constant strain on a person. Which has definitely warped his perception of what's too much for himself. He has a HUGE problem with being too critical of when something is or isn't Enough to be "worth" letting himself be upset or down for the count for a while. (In AMFMN he's going to be told straight up he Should Have Literally Died with how bad of shape he'll be in and that's the only reason besides his body being in literal physical shambles that he's going to remain bedridden during the recovery arc).

It's so foreign to him between his habitual isolation (hc life), rarely actually being taken down long-term by any threat, and his own evasion of being the one depending on someone that he just. He doesn't know what to do here. It's like putting socks on a dog and watching them try to walk all weird, he's like What The FUCK Is This?? How Do I Navigate This Situation?? He hates it.

Also survivalist brain hates feeling vulnerable in any way in general obviously, so that's another factor. But FUCK MAN sometimes you NEED to, it's HEALTHY even!! You dumb ass motherfucker!! Like yeah he'll cry, but not in like a Go To His Room And Let Himself Break A Little way, in a "these extremely stressful circumstances are actively happening/ongoing and it's overwhelming me so badly that I couldn't hold this back if I tried" way. Case in point: Ender King's initial arrival and how the kids couldn't see anything, or his actual possession and telling Tallulah to flee.

Alternatively if something involves not him but his loved ones, THEN he'll cry. Assuming it's not something he can do anything about (bc then his default reaction is Pissed The Fuck Off and preparing to throw infinite hands). Case in point: the goodbye letters pre-Purgatory.

But generally speaking this idiot is SO BAD at emotional self-care and letting himself be the one looked after for a change, it feeds into a lot of his other flaws (ie: being strong all the time & how he pushes that on Chay). But like. It's not just done out of refusal due to stubbornness.

It's fucking tragic, honestly. He's spent So Long being this way, he just straight up genuinely doesn't know How to be in the reversed role. Like even if he Wanted to be, it's so beyond his comprehension now that he doesn't think he Can. And a shred of why he continues not to just Start is bc he knows deep down that there is SO MUCH shit he's bottled up and buried or ignored over time, esp ever since The Nightmare, that if he let himself stop being a brick wall he'd crumble for so long he doesn't know what he'd be like once he recovered, or if he would even bounce back properly. And he does NOT like the idea of being irreversibly fucked up by properly digesting the trauma and grief and stress he's been through over the last year.

He'd rather truck on and "keep it together for the kids." :)

[maukiki1-but-cringefail]

okay i probably would've asked more abt your bsb thoughts sooner except i got shy. but i'm going insane rn so i gotta ask.... your thoughts on zeo. bc when i watched v-force nearly 2 years ago the robot twist took me out for like an entire day and now i'm still insane about them. like it's ridiculous but also really fucked up when you think abt it. and if/when you get to the manga. well i haven't read most of it EXCEPT for volumes 7-9 and vol 9..... ough. manga zeo my also beloved. i think abt this kid and their fucked up ass dad so much

omg im gonna lose my mind i just spent so much time typing the anwser to this and tumblr just DELETED IT ARE YOU KIDDING ME😭 sigh okay ill do it again ig...

i read the manga+rising but the manga version of zeo didnt really stand out to me so im gonna talk about the anime version of him only.

The season hes in, v force, is notoriously fucking boring (i knew this before watching v force even though i stayed out of any info abt bsb to avoid spoilers AND i still knew, imagine that) its like an entire season of filler but the character who stands out the most is Zeo obviously. ozuma/ozma is there too but eh. standing out in v force isnt saying much considering its not really intresting but that doesnt mean i hate him. hes .. neat but i dont think about him a lot.

in the anime when they first started hinting at something being off with zeo (and learning who his father is) my IMMIDIATE guess was oh this guys some kind of lab experiment, ailen or a robot and i was right lol. i mean considering his fathers job it isnt hard to predict but it is a kids show🤷

what i thought the most in the finale fight was okay, so he wants to be human, my boy yearns for the flesh, but like.. why? i know he has zagarts dead sons memories inside of him but if hes human enough to live and not notice he was a robot whats so bad about being a machine??? (robot propoganda lmfao) . he talks like a human feels like a human walks like a human feels like a human.. the gang™️ points this out too. i think there shouldve been more physical indicators to this guy straight up being a machine.. so many cool shit u can do with a ROBOT BLADER HELLOOOO ... ??? like do u have any problem in ur system or did u just not notice?? also how long has he been a robot? i feel like i needed more explanation on the dead son thing. yall couldnt take all those pointless boring episodes of those npc dudes trying to steal the sacred beasts and give it to zeo's backstory? what happened to this child? how long has he been a robot? when how which who which colour how many??2?2? was the original child also mint haired lmao? -also his hair colour is rll nice ^^

but yeah i think hes neat and probably the best character in his season.. i think his design is decent too, atleast the one w the white-ish outfit

oh and also this shit was raw as FUCK

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

A while ago you made some Deimos x Teammate headcanons, and they were all absolutely WONDERFUL

Would it be possible to get some Hank x Teammate headcanons? 👀

absolutely!!

headcanons under the cut

2BHank:

obviously gotta start with these two, respect for the elderly and all that

- divorced but it's complicated

- they started out as roommates while Doc was in college and Hank, unbeknownst to Doc at the time, was just getting started at being a menace to society

- they were close. a little too close. but nothing ever came of it aside from a mutual pining

- when Doc began working for the Agency/Nexus it drew a hard line between them. both believed they were doing what was right and that the other was a lost cause

- it turned into a physical fight and Hank did in fact leave Doc for dead

- he got better dw

- fast forward a few years, Doc has swapped sides and is incapable of admitting he was wrong

- Hank is not even a little bit sorry because in his mind it was deserved at the time

- they're different people now though and they both know that. the past is in the past. the world keeps turning

- their relationship has moved beyond platonic since but it's still complicated. they don't have the luxury of deep "what are we" conversations or quality time spent together unless Hank is injured

- regardless, Hank spends whatever downtime he does have in Doc's personal space. he's the type of guy that will just loom over you silently while you're working and patiently wait for Doc to pay attention to him

- Doc still keeps things professional for the sake of professionalism. his guard is only ever truly down when they've retired for the night and he can give Hank every drop of attention he craves

- Hank finds physical touch grounding so on days when his head is a mess and all his thoughts sound like they're underwater, he'll drape himself over Doc's shoulders and try to map out the sensation of him for a while

- "Wimbleton" is as close to a pet name as Doc will ever get. if he uses Hank's first name it's usually when he's mad/annoyed

- Hank doesn't necessarily bite Doc but he's got this weird form of cute aggression that makes him want to put his teeth on him

Hankmos:

yeah I already did this in the last post so what

- their first meeting was the equivalent of finding a wet kitten at the scene of a car accident

- Deimos hadn't yet made a name for himself but was well on his way, torching every stitch of AAHW property he could get his hands on (pyrokinesis Deimos my beloved)

- Hank was sent to raid a cloning facility when it happened. the entire place had gone up in flames and was little more than smoldering debris by the time he got there. he was there to kill everything that moved so of course he had to parse through said debris for any survivors

- what he found was a scrawny fucked up little dude passed out at the center of it all, completely unharmed, the only sign he'd been involved in the fire being the singed remains of his clothes

- interesting enough for Hank to not kill him despite being visibly a clone. instead he wraps Deimos's tiny ass up in his trenchcoat and brings him back to base

- Deimos still wears said trenchcoat because he's a fanboy and nothing will change that

- which also means he glues himself to Hank's hip from day one, not being a nuisance but always in the vicinity, tags along on whatever missions he can, asks Hank to train him in CQB

- and of course Hank grows fond of Deimos. how could he not? his rambling is pleasant background noise that helps keep Hank in the moment, he has a nice smile and laughs a lot, and it doesn't take long for him to become a worthy opponent for Hank

- a lot of their communication is done through body language and micro-expressions. Hank is incredibly perceptive of those subtle shifts and for Deimos it comes naturally

- Deimos goes out of his way to impress Hank. whether that means making stupid jokes to try and get a laugh out of him or showing off on the battlefield at every opportunity, his efforts know no bounds. it makes his heart flutter in a weird way whenever he gets those little signals of approval

- neither is keen on eye contact which works out perfectly, Hank because of the 'tism and Deimos because it feels like someone is trying to square up

- I feel like romantic cannibalism in the literal sense but as a metaphor would suit them so well. there's so much want between them and it's like they can't ever satisfy it. simply touching isn't enough. they need to grab. they need to hold. they need to squeeze. they could become each other and it still wouldn't be enough

- on the outside they play it cool for the most part obviously but the tension is always there. everyone can feel it

Hankford:

woefully underappreciated

- these two have the same vibe and demo and soldier tbh

- Sanford's whole thing is blowing shit up and setting things on fire

- Hank's thing is killing people in increasingly dramatic and violent ways

- combine the two, what more could you want out of a ship

- most of their initial bonding happens over explosions and combat tactics, as well as the inherently homoerotic act of patching each other up during battle

- after a particularly high risk/high reward mission, standing amongst the rubble of what was once a weapons factory and still high on adrenaline and dopamine, Sanford grabs Hank by the lapels of his coat and kisses him

- oh to make out with someone in the aftermath of an explosion

- these two lack a balancing factor. neither needs to be protected by the other. neither has ever been chill a day in their life. both are itching to destroy something at any given moment. they hype each other up and egg on every OSHA violation in the book

- Hank does feel protective towards Sanford because that's just in his nature, but he doesn't feel like he needs to hover or have eyes on him constantly. Sanford has dragged his sorry bleeding ass out of trouble more than once, after all

- Sanford is the king of PDA and they have to establish pretty early on that Hank isn't comfortable with others seeing that much of his private life. holding hands is as far as it goes if others are around

- alone? Sanford can't keep his hands to himself. his favorite thing is to dip Hank when he least expects it just to make him blush

- Hank isn't sure how to reciprocate at first. his hands are meant for crushing and tearing and Sanford is so gentle and tender. it's a learning curve and the way his hands shake when he's excited doesn't help

- they work it out over time together though, Sanford making an effort to lead affection and letting Hank sort out what he likes along the way

- Sanford is Hank's weighted blanket I take no criticism on this

- Sanford calls Hank "Doll". Hank incorrectly interprets this as sarcasm because he can't imagine someone associating him with something delicate or cute

- neither of them is allowed anywhere near the kitchen. not because they can't cook but because neither of them has any impulse control and the microwave will be blown up "for science"

- Sanford, ever observant and a little obsessive, begins mapping out Hank's behaviors and mental state as best as he can. he isn't surprised that Hank is a little fucked up, but there's a lot more going on in their than expected. and Hank, uncharacteristically, does open up to Sanford about the dissociation and memory problems

- Hank has outlawed the word babygirl because it makes him flustered angry

[justcallmethatsimp]

You’re not mine (big time angsty)

-unedited-

This was kind of inspired by the fanfiction Captive written by Abysscronica I read it on Wattpad—you should check it out the author just made the sequel-and the end of the corpse bride

I was standing on the deck leaning against the rails staring at the stars. I’ve been lost in thought for what felt like hours at this point. The reality of my situation with my captain is hitting hard. I was in love with him but he….he was in love with her.

I’ve been plagued with thoughts of leaving. Leaving the crew. Leaving this lifestyle. Leaving him. But then I have to leave my friends, my family I’ve made over the years we’ve been sailing together. I feel like I’m overreacting but how am I supposed to keep going on like this?

She came out of no where. And the she ended up joining in the crew. Following my captain everywhere. Stuck right on his heels. They spent almost every moment together and…you could hear it. But, he made the decision to leave her on an island. He decided it would be best for her to not be apart of our lifestyle. That it would be safer. That it would be better this way. I thought so too, but for my own reasons. I could finally get him back. But that was not the case.

He hasn’t talked to me since she left. It’s been 3 weeks. Well, he’s talked to me but it’s been orders or something about our plans coming up. But he hasn’t talked to me and it’s really getting—-

“Y/n” I was pulled out of my thoughts by a male voice. I turned around to see none other than my captain.

“What’s up, cap?” I replied as I turned back to the sky.

He walked over to me and mimicked my actions, “can we talk?”

I could tell by his tone this wasn’t a normal kind of talk for him and it took me by surprise “oh wow cap” I mused “didn’t take you for the talking type.”

He sighed at my reply and dropped his head. “You don’t have to keep it formal with me right now, y/n” he breathed out.

The moment the words left his mouth all of the composure I’ve been barley holding on to this entire time just slipped away. “Then what the fuck do want, Kid?” I spit. He wasn’t even phased by my anger.

“I’m sorry” was all he said

I laughed bitterly “oh so you do know how to apologize? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Can you cut the shit, y/n? I’m trying here” he snapped back at me while turning his face to look at me. “Obviously he can only hold up the facade so long” I thought to myself while studying his face.

“Why?” I hissed “you’ve never tried before unless it was for her.”

I can see him physically trying to hold back his anger “because you deserve it” he said through his teeth “I’m trying to do the right thing for you”

I was about to reply when he added “despite how it looks I DO love you—“

“But you love her more” I added softly for him.

He furrowed his brow and looked away, he didn’t respond at first and we stood in silence, neither one of us wanting to break it until he finally spoke.

“I wanted it to be different, y/n. I really did” I could hear his voice breaking “but she-I cant-I don’t-“

“Yeah I get it” I replied shutting off all of my emotions. I can’t let him see this break me. I cannot give him that power. I turned and walked away from him but stoped after a couple of steps.

With my back to him I said “it’s okay. you’re not mine, Kid. It was always going to be her”

With that I kept walking letting the tears fall “y/n wait!” He called out I waved to him instead and kept walking in the opposite direction.

I pushed open the door that led to the hallway and then I let myself release the pain I felt in my chest. With my back against the wall I slid down and began to cry.

“Y/n?” I heard a semi muffled voice say

I peeked up between my fingers to see Killer leaning out of his room. I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t bring myself to speak. He noticed this and stepped out of his room over to me “alright, wanna stay with me tonight?” He sighed

I quickly nodded and he reached down to help me up “come on” he sighed again, pulling me up from the ground and ushered me into his room.

He had always had to clean up his captains mess. And this time. The mess Kid left behind, was me.

[jamneuromain]

Jam, in honor to the song I was just listening I propose a battle for our reader.

😠 + 😉 with Andy VS Steve. Steve was your first love, Andy is your current amazing love. Fight fight fight (not physical obviously lol🥊!

hmmm.... It's such a tough call! But since Andy is your current amazing love, I rule for-

Ugh I hate ex-bf being all gloating and smug when you meet again

Not Him

Previous Steve Rogers x You; Andy Barber x You

Warning: Ex-Steve, Reader is in her late 20s, Andy a few years older than reader (but not mentioned specifically). None?

Summary: You met someone unexpected, your ex, Steve, on your way to your class. What's the worst that could happen? Answer: Andy happened.

A/N: Hiya! Sorry it took so long to get it out :( I've been clearing my draftbox as best as I can.

Someone called out your name behind your back, and you instinctively snapped your head in that direction.

Blonde, built, and that smile-

"Oh, Steve. Hi." You instantly recognized the man from your past.

You met Steve when you attended high school. While he was the famous football quarterback for the school team, you were practically nobody, and if it weren't for a class you shared, you wouldn't even know each other in your separate lives.

One thing led to another, and you became high school sweethearts, before breaking up a few months later.

"Hey." He jogged up to you. That sunshine-dazzling smile nearly splitting his face in two, "It's been... what, ten years? Wow..." He exclaims, carefully observing you from head to toe.

"Yeah, I mean, I haven't seen you since ... the prom?" You casually switched the pile in your hand to the other, smoothing your T-shirt.

Oh yes, the high school prom where you had two dances before he spent the whole night with the pretty British girl with a posh accent. What's her name? Petra? Penny? Next day, your phone was blasted with Instagram notifications telling you from all aspects and angles how they kissed as Prom King and Queen. Not that you didn't know it already, when you were there, under the stage.

"You-uh heading somewhere?" He pointed at your stack of papers, teasing ever so slightly, "I've seen you still not giving up on studying, huh?"

"Well, I-"

"I'm working as a coach now," He interrupted before you could finish your sentence, flashing his team jacket before your eyes, even tapping on the chest where the team name is visible to any man within eight feet if they weren't complete blind.

"Wow." You nodded, playing along, "Uni team, impressive."

Too bad you were never a decent sports fan that could share Steve's enthusiasm as to which legendary figure saved the day with a ball in their hands - nor did you find being a coach "impressive" ... or intrigued, for that matter, because being in front of glamouring Steve fucking Rogers made you shrink back to your high school self-image again: a small, inconspicuous, socially unidentifiable shadow of a being that you could barely recognize. And yet, the contrast between Steve and you reminded you every single time, that you do not belong to a world of his, a world where books and glasses are symbols of "nerds" or "geeks" and are perfectly fine to make fun of, a world where if you don't like sports - or not being a potential athlete, you should be eliminated in every social context.

"Yup." He popped the "p" with his full lips, "If you want the tickets next season-" Steve pointed towards himself with both thumbs, the lop-sided smile made him look smug as ever, "This guy is your go-to-guy."

More like your never-go-to guy. You scoffed, adjusting your expression to a small smile as soon as he turned his focus on you, "Sorry, I think I need to head to my next class."

"C'mon-" Steve dragged his tone almost annoyingly, "Skip it. Don't you have some time for me, for old time's sake?"

You could have ten more minutes for him before the next class. But you didn't want to. Which was the point.

"Hey, honey." Came a voice behind your back, startling you just a little. An arm draped around your shoulders, squishing you into a familiar embrace, "I've been calling."

You let out a sigh of relief. More so when the owner of this familiar voice took the stack of papers from your arms into his own, and rubbed your sore arm for having to hold the pile for quite a while.

"Sorry." You apologized to your beloved boyfriend Andy, "I must've silenced my phone during the class."

" 's okay." Andy pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering, "Wanted to ask you about lunch anyway. Nothing important." Andy slowly moved his eyes away from yours, and acted as if he had just seen Steve, a 6-foot man who appeared out of nowhere, "Who do we have here? Honey, would you mind introducing?"

"Sure. This is my ex, Steve, from high school. Steve, this is Andy, my boyfriend."

The moment the word "ex" escaped from your lips, you became aware instantly that your boyfriend had entered his suit mode, every available muscle tensing up in his body, and like a good huntsman, ready to strike when he sees the glimpse of a failure of his opponent. Where you hoped that "high school" from your introduction would calm his nerves, it certainly achieved the opposite when you heard your boyfriend say: "Oh..." in a thoughtful way, "the quarterback-captain, am I right?" as he extended his hand to shake Steve's.

Yup. It definitely made Andy slightly on edge.

"I'm part of the coaching team on campus, actually." Steve flashed his identity proudly before Andy, shaking Andy's hand in an equally firm grip, "Go Falcons."

"Oh..." said Andy again, more thoughtfully, "I'm a professor here in the Law School - You wouldn't happen to be the coach assistant of Karl?"

This just turned more competitive than you would think. Yet, it did bring a tinge of amusement when Andy confirmed your suspicion that Steve was too young to be made a coach, while the position of coach assistant was for brainless jocks who did all the dirty work coaches didn't want to, the heavy-lifting and paperworks, for instance.

"Well," Steve sneered, "I thought dating a student was improper conduct, Professor."

"Excuse me?" Andy raised his brows. So did you.

"You heard me." Steve nodded towards you, "Her, a student, obviously. It would be a great unfortunate if the dean might hear about such a rumour somewhere, wouldn't it?"

He said almost challengingly.

Wow. Typical Steve as ever. The girl he dated after prom, the British girl, was rumoured to have had a bad break-up previously. According to gossip that ran in the school bathroom, the British girl was told that her ex was cheating - which turned out to be a false alarm, but they broke up anyway.

Now you guessed you knew who was the little birdie that shared the false information with that poor girl.

Andy snorted out laughter. The corner of his lips could barely contain themselves as he struggled to keep a straight face, "Marvelous." Andy clapped - more like tapping his palm with the other hand, before asking for your permission, "Should you do this or should I?"

You scoffed. Really scoffed in front of the glorious quarterback that you liked a decade ago, "For your information, Steve, I'm working as a lecturer at this university. So, go start your devious little plan elsewhere. If you don't mind, I have a class to teach - C'mon, Andy."

You dragged Andy by his arm and led him out of the battlefield.

"Nice." Andy commented, not bothering to look back at his opponent, with a pleasing grin that was probably going to mold on his face for all eternity. "Did you see the look on that guy's face? Spectacular. So proud of you, Honey."

"Yeah, not my best moment having to face a dickhead-ex." You huffed out, "Jesus, why didn't I know he was that big of a jerk when I started dating him?"

"I know," Andy said, sympathetically, "Don't worry though, I noticed that your choice of man has had a significant change for the better."

You shot him a dirty glare, which Andy took, feigning he just got hit on the chest.

"Sorry, no joking, got it." Andy made a pained face which caused you to involuntarily grin. Quickly abandoning the idea of the ex in his mind, Andy finally returned to the topic for which he came to find you, "What's for lunch again? Cafeteria?"

Find Jammy's 500 Follower's Celebration here 👈

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[lunar-years]

everyone has different interpretations of scenes, but for real that scene with jamie and roy was just plain sexist. roy seriously said "i don't know if we're getting back together because she's a woman and you never know". like what the absolute fuck was that line? they showed up to her house condescending, completely unapologetic about their behaviour, and treated her like a trophy prize. she deserved to beat them up. jamie and roy have always been troubled characters, but they were never (not even in season one) sexist assholes. the show went out of its way multiple times to establish that even when they made mistakes it was due to personal insecurity and not misogyny.

and whenever it was something misogynistic, it was heavily criticised as such, which, in this episode, it was not. a lot of people did seriously not catch the blatant sexism of it at all and went "that's how these men act" (again, what the fuck?). jamie spent season three being respectful of roy and keeley's breakup and not making a move on her, out of consideration of roy's feelings. roy, who knows how abusive jamie's father is, probably better than any other male character on the show, physically assaulted him. despite the fact that throughout the season roy has been approaching jamie with affection, realizing that's what he needs to feel secure (complete disrespect to 2x08 too, one of the best episodes of the series). and while we're on the topic of violence, roy and jamie were never this violent with each other, even when they hated each other's guts. jamie, who gave keeley a truly heartfelt apology about the leaked video, making a point to not victim-blame or engage in literally ANY other sexist behaviour, just brings it up to upset roy in a dick-measuring contest. and one episode ago, one fucking episode ago, they were all getting along, keeley and roy were obviously trying to get back together, and jamie wasn't one bit bothered by it. they were holding hands on his bed and he saw them and smiled! regardless of whether you think the roykeeley arc was rushed (i do), jamie might have been heartbroken or sad, but he wasn't, not once, established as jealous of them. and this entire season was devoted to roy and jamie becoming friends by slowly growing comfortable around each other and actually trusting each other. every single one of those things was thrown into the trash. and yeah, sure, progress isn't linear and perfection isn't possible for people, but that WAS NOT regression. roy and jamie were never sexist dicks. those were two completely different characters.

ALSO, this scene normalizes the idea that it's perfectly forgivable to revert back to sexism whenever emotionally distressed, even if you are generally not like that in your life. it's not. in reality, you're either sexist or you're not, and doing this in one scenario will absolutely mean that you will be sexist in different scenarios too. nobody in real life will be sexist in some areas of their life and feminist in others. implying that this isn't the case shows a very poor understanding of feminist theory and ted lasso has more or less done a good job at not being sexist. i feel like this really excuses unacceptable behaviour that the show itself tells us, with rupert particularly, has very real consequences that perpetuate violence against women. to me, the light-hearted resolution of that whole scene was terrible and poorly written at best. people in the writers' room typed that scene, read through it, and did not find it weird at all. though it's not the first time in the third season, see: forgiving jamie's dad and far-right bigots (???).

and lastly, when people were asking for a love triangle resolution, they meant something fitting for the year of our lord 2023. healthy communication and conversations, mutual respect and love between the charactets, maybe even polyamory (3x11 had a great ot3 set up, too). nobody meant we wanted something from the fucking 1950s. literally the only worse way this could have played out would have been if keeley ended up with the one that caused the other more damage. legit disgraceful ending for roy and jamie as characters, and for the show as well. considering everything it has stood for so far.

(i'm sorry if this reads like i'm calling people out, i'm not, really, i'm just very mad. and also really sad, because i did not go into the ted lasso finale expecting unaddressed sexism. like that was Really Very Bad. for this show especially).

woahhh there's a lot going on here, anon. For anyone wondering, I'm assuming this is a response to this post of mine. While I don't mind discussion or being called out... this does feel like something that could've very well been your own post or an open response to mine instead of an anon note. Because if you've read my meta, you'll probably already know I'm not going to agree with you on this.

Just gonna drop a few short thoughts because I don't have energy to write a think piece when my broader thoughts are already contained in my original post:

I'm not sure where you think I was trying to excuse their words or pretending they weren't being sexist or like they weren't treating Keeley as a weapon in their own games or a prize to be won. I think there's a difference between excusing someone's actions versus trying to understand where they were coming from for the characters and where they are at now.

"while we're on the topic of violence, roy and jamie were never this violent with each other, even when they hated each other's guts" Roy & Jamie were literally beating each other up in the locker room and brawling right out there on the pitch in season 1, anon.

"Keeley and Roy were obviously trying to get back together, and Jamie wasn't one bit bothered by it." this is just not true. Roy was trying to get back together with Keeley. Keeley wasn't shown to be reciprocal (beyond sleeping with him, which is a repeated pattern of behavior for her on the show, and something she in fact did with Jamie in season one), and Roy misinterprets it, as Jamie misinterpreted it. In fact, I'd argue Roy deciding it was a good idea to try and make him and Keeley happen right there in Jamie's bedroom with Jamie crying to his mum one room over, shows he wasn't thinking about Jamie, not when it comes to Keeley. Roy wants what Roy wants and he assumed he was going to get it. And Jamie went through a whole journey of expressions when he opened that bedroom door, so I don't think it's fair to say he "wasn't one bit bothered." I think we've established at this point Roy and Jamie both love Keeley and have always been weird and jealous about it with the other.

"this scene normalizes the idea that it's perfectly forgivable to revert back to sexism whenever emotionally distressed" this scene didn't normalize anything, because the show immediately acknowledged that Jamie and Roy were both in the wrong and had Keeley rightfully kick them to the curb for it. The narrative was not that this is okay or acceptable behavior. I definitely didn't see the scene as light-hearted

"nobody in real life will be sexist in some areas of their life and feminist in others." i am a woman who considers herself very much a feminist. That doesn't mean I've never had moments of internalized misogyny or made harmful comments that buy into a patriarchal narrative, despite myself. Well-intentioned people make mistakes. We are all works in prog-mess trying to get through life as the best people we can be. Jamie and Roy, in my opinion, are fictional iterations of the same principle. I don't think this comes even close to destroying their entire characters in the way you are implying.

All the best x

[ruporas]

i've been wondering- what do you think of vash and ww's relationship to pain? do u have any thoughts on it??

cuz i was just thinking like. obviously they're both extremely resilient and don't care much if they get hurt in the process of achieving whatever, but like... as for the pain specifically, i have to wonder.

cuz i'm reading trimax for the first time and toward the end of the sand steamer mess kite basically asks if vash even feels pain. and i mean... he has to, since not that long ago he just hit the floor with a dramatic blood splatter lmao. but like.

is he just suppressing visible reactions? or does he just not feel pain unless it's above a certain level?

and i wanna know about ww too if you have thoughts, i just haven't gotten that far in trimax :')

forgive me if my wording is all over the place, i havent been very elegant in my words Lately, but i am always down to talk about specific shit involving vash and wolfwood,

if we're just talking physical pain, yeah, i think they feel pain normally!

For Vash, he is the master of repression throughout Trimax, so I think naturally, he keeps a strong face no matter the level of hurt, whether on the outside or inner. It's just in his nature to not allow others to worry about him by pulling through with a fake smile or in some cases, he feels like he deserves the pain inflicted on him so even if he's getting pulverized to shit or threatened against his life, he'd default to a silence as opposed to screaming in agony that might make people think he isn't feeling anything. It's probably also second nature for him to no longer yelp or cry at pain after the amount of years he's spent getting hurt, but i think this only applies if he isn't emotionally involved in a fight (which is rare, but it happens in ch. 38).

In terms of physical pain, he seems to feel it like how regular humans do. I've thrown together some examples where he goes owchie owchie owchie that aren't too spoilery:

The Emilio scene is kind of why I don't think he's just playing up the theatrics of feeling pain, though I do think he would on some occasion, especially since he roleplays with children all the time. Verbally saying "ow ow ow" could potentially be an instinctive reaction too or maybe a source of comfort. But yeah!! I think Vash has always been able to feel pain and it's not like being a plant has lessen his ability to do so. Any resilience built is tacked on due to him being alive for 100 years and being a guy with a clear painted bullseye on his entire figure that ends up getting him shot and scarred.

In the end, the pain that gets to Vash the most will always be on an emotional level rather than physical, but Vash is such a genuine person and so present when it comes to other people that even if it's a pain he can take, it'll still hurt him terribly in more ways than one.

For Wolfwood; I think in general, those under the Eye of Michael have a strong resilience to dealing with pain due to the regen potions and the amount of training forced on them. I don't think we ever get the full description of what exactly those in EoM endured throughout their younger years, but we saw WW get shot at an early age in chapter 12 and we can assume it happened more than once. Over and over again until he won't even flinch against it just like how killing without hesitation was attempted to be drilled into him. I don't really know how it works scientifically… but I fully believe that he's mostly numbed to the physical sensation of it and it's the psychological part that gets to him more. Wolfwood himself is a naturally skilled fighter too, not that that really has anything to do with his dealing with pain, but I think his focus and attention on a battle and his stubbornness to win kicks an adrenaline that allows him to ignore the pain.

Though, his body also gets sore and tired just like any regular human does and there's this instance where he goes owie too:

(While NOT as much as Tristamp WW does where he's cracking a cold one every goddamn minute, I do think Trimax WW has gotten used to taking regen pots and thus, can afford to be careless and not give a damn.)

So, physically, technically in canon, they don't really have anything that specially makes either of them unable to feel pain, but just as you said, they're incredibly resilient. And ultimately, the both of them are affected emotionally/psychologically that hurts them more than the physical aspect of it, considering how physical pain is almost a daily chore for them to deal with (Vash being hunted for sport for majority of his life + Wolfwood being involved in experiments/killings for majority of his life.)

I think Trigun in general, while showing physical pain being a strong factor of hurt for regular people like us constantly seeing civiilians get beat up or shot, it tends to boil down to the multiple varieties of pain when it comes to those who deal with physical pain often (Gung Hos, Vash, EoM members).

I didn't know where to put these comments but here are extra thoughts:

They're both evidently really good at hiding their pains or any mark of vulnerability. They both could have a hole in their chest and go days without anyone else noticing so long it isn't killing them.

They're both pretty reckless during battle, but I think for Vash, he already tries to avoid violence at all cost and thus, do in a roundabout way lessen his own chance of getting hit in hoping to not stir that violence against another. As a result, I think Wolfwood can be way more reckless and ends up getting hurt more unnecessarily as a result of it.

They both are capable of healing at quick rates so I'm sure that allows the pain to feel more temporary, less of a risk to sustain, and to further hone in not caring too much about getting shot. That only applies for themselves individually though because every time they see each other get hurt, they're always so so worried despite knowing the other will be fine.

i'm pretty sure i repeated myself like 800 times, but i hope this Answered the question SFGMSDKGSMDKH i also tried to be vague enough in my wordings and focus only on the beginning-ish of trimax so to not spoil! i hope u enjoy ur reading of it!!

[glassshard]

Blue Eye Samurai ending spoilers>>

I stayed up way too late finishing off the show and I'm glad I did! I've never seen a better written animated series. It's kind of a unicorn. Creator-driven series written for adults that isn't some poor hireling desperately trying to express something meaningful through a corporate IP. No shade on all the earnest animated video game and capeshit out there, but- well yeah. Maybe a little shade. Fanfiction is always easier.

BES also wasn't just an occasionally edgy YA show like ATLA or Korra (or the Spiderverse stuff, sorry) or style over substance like the old MTV series. The creators had an idea, and they sweat blood to make it happen. Kudos to Netflix for letting them do their thing.

That ending though, man. I get wanting to subvert what everyone was expecting. And I trust these writers to know what they're doing. When someone gives you eight hours of badassery, you give them the benefit of the doubt. But it's bad feels not getting the catharsis of the Big Bad's demise at the end. The show does a fantastic job of making you despise Fowler. He's not a grey villain, he's friggin' Satan. And you don't get to see him drown in his own blood after all that struggle! It's rough!

What's even a little more alarming though is the reality of Mizu leaving all the cool characters and hanging relationships she's spent the whole series building up. And why? To go to London?? That's weird! London is gross! I don't like the idea of leaving the rest of the cast behind! I hope the writers have some kind of awesome idea for English shenanigans to make up for losing them. Will the story bounce back to Japan to see what Akemi's doing and how Taigen deals with the rejection? I care at least as much about them as about Mizu. Ringo's probably safe making kitchen knives tho.

Leaving so much unresolved is tough stuff. It'll be years before a second season comes out - and maybe it never will. If that happens, I'm going to be pissed that they structured their story this way. But if it does happen and it's worth the wait, then I admire the bravery.

I just got three criticisms that caught my eye: The Fowler fight was way too similar to the giant fight. What I would have loved to see was Fowler with an arsenal of hidden guns and him and Mizu fighting each other through the burning building as she slowly whittled down his fire power before ultimately savaging him. Any time you pit Mizu hand to hand against anyone with such obviously massive physical strength, you're shattering the illusion. Even if she was a dude, she's a dex build. I'm still not clear on what she bit off Fowler's face to escape that hold. It wasn't his nose or tongue? Clarity there would have been nice and felt good.

Seki's death was flagged so hard it almost ruined the impact for me because then I was just looking for it to happen. RIP Seki, he was such a cool character.

The licensed tracks were always distracting. No anachronistic music in a period piece!

[loosingmoreletters]

Take a snippet of a Sword Art Online AU for mdzs

Watching the teenagers talk among themselves, gesticulating wildly, Wei Wuxian figured they must have spent a lot of time in full dive systems, which was odd enough. After what had happened to Lan Zhan and his brother, it seemed more likely that their uncle would’ve shut down any association Lan Corp had with that tech. Then again, it had been over a decade. Maybe Lan Qiren wasn’t even CEO anymore, though Wei Wuxian couldn’t think of anyone to succeed him. Neither Lan Xichen nor Lan Zhan had seemed particularly suited for the position of a CEO when he’d known them.

“Sizhui,” the loud Lan - Jingyi? - suddenly interrupted the conversation, “is your dad gonna pick us up?”

Sizhui shook his head. “No, he’s at physical therapy.”

“He’s always at PT,” Jingyi muttered.

“It’s not like muscle atrophy suddenly goes away,” Sizhui reprimanded him as the Ouyang boy dug his elbow into Jingyi’s side, and Jingyi grimaced.

“Sorry, you know how I meant it. After all this time, is there really a chance it’ll get better?”

Sizhui sighed, proving at once that it couldn’t have been just Lan Zhan raising him for all that open sass. Had he gotten a real marriage? A proper spouse with benefits that weren’t the the highest spell stats?

“Father cares about it.”

Lan Zhan had been their high school and university’s athletics champion for years. The time spent comatose in game would’ve likely ruined all of that. If Wei Wuxian still had a body, it would probably break apart the moment he tried to move.

“We can catch the bus to my place then,” Ouyang kid said. “It’s not that far from Lan Corp and we can grab food on the way.”

So much for Wei Wuxian’s assumptions that the company wouldn’t have anything to do with Full Dive tech anymore.

“Are you all diving from Lan Corp?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“Yeah, it’s the closest,” Jingyi said. “What company are you playing at?”

“Jingyi!” Ouyang - okay, Wei Wuxian really needed to catch his name - exclaimed. “You don’t just ask a high level player from where they’re diving when in private! Sorry, Senior Mo!”

Oh, dear, did they assume Wei Wuxian was a pro gamer? He grinned.

“No, it’s fine. I’m diving from home!”

A blatantly lie as Wei Wuxian’s continued existence was a string of zeroes and ones, but he wasn’t about to tell a bunch of kids he was little more than a virus hanging onto the remaining Wen servers.

But instead of reassuring the teenagers, his statement just made them gape in horror.

“From home! How? With a homebrew system? Isn’t that illegal?”

Was it? It hadn’t been when Wei Wuxian was still alive. Most of them had dived from home over standard consoles.

“What server are you on? Even Sizhui isn’t allowed to dive from home, though it wouldn’t make such a big difference for him.”

“Father doesn’t want me to risk taking a less secure connection. I could suffer severe damages.”

Yeah, that did sound like Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian laughed and ruffled the kid’s head. “Being supervised while diving is for the best. I’ve got my brother looking after me, don’t worry.”

Despite everything, Wei Wuxian was sure Jiang Cheng had claimed his body. His brother probably arranged a nice funeral too. Wait, was his name famous IRL now? Wei Wuxian mentally patted himself on the shoulder for sticking with Mo Xuanyu’s character profile instead of editing it.

“That’s good, Senior Mo!” Ouyang kid said.

“Are you diving on a regular schedule then?” Sizhui asked. “We took down that demonic arm quicker than I calculated with your help. You’d be a great addition to our party.”

The last tome Wei Wuxian had been part of a group, it hadn’t ended well for anyone. But without him there, the kids would’ve died and they obviously planned to stick around.

And if Wei Wuxian wanted to figure out who had hooked up the Wen servers to a new game, he ought to stick around living players.

“I’d be honored to join your party,” Wei Wuxian said. “Maybe I can teach you a trick or two!”

Not any of the gaps he exploited for his demonic cultivation, but one or two shortcuts that would bolster the kids’ chances. Maybe he could disguise hacking their stats as extra training. Obviously they wouldn’t die IRL if they died in game, not like the last humans Wei Wuxian had talked to, but he was incredibly selfish.

He didn’t want to witness anyone’s death again. Helping then was fir his benefit too.

[woodelf68]

Every Way Love's A Little Stronger

Very belated fill for last year's @sifkiweek prompt "Volstagg", in tribute to Ray Stevenson's passing. You will continue to live on in our hearts and in our fics. Part two of my Fair Play 'verse. (Non-magic AU in which Thor, Loki, and Sif are college-aged.) 9360 words, AO3 link

Summary: Physically, Sif had come out of the attack with nothing more than a few bruises. Emotionally, it takes the support of her friends and the comfort of Loki's arms around her before she starts to feel like herself again. Rated T.

Sif sat on the curb outside of the gym, the twilight deepening around her, but she made no move towards her nearby motorcycle, too shaken to feel like she should be riding it right now.

"Are you going to be all right?" Karl Skurge, the gym's owner, sat down beside her now that the police had gone.

"Yeah. I mean, nothing happened, right? I fought him off."

"You did, and you should be proud of yourself for that. But you were attacked. I heard what you told the cops, what he said, what he did. The fact that it didn't go very far before you were able to stop it doesn't change the fact that something did happen." Skurge's voice was gentle.

"Yeah, all right." Sif hugged her knees, resting her chin atop them. She'd known the guy, as far as recognising him from around campus. College had started back up two weeks ago, and she'd seen him harassing Jane Foster a few days ago, obviously hitting on her and refusing to take "no" for an answer. Sif hoped she would have done so anyway, but they'd spent enough time together hanging out this past summer -- she and Loki and Thor and Jane (and sometimes Darcy, when Fandral was otherwise occupied) -- that Sif now considered Jane a friend, and she'd gone over and suggested the guy -- Haldor, he was on the football team with Thor -- leave Jane alone, refusing to be intimidated or back down when Haldor had suggested right back that she mind her own business. She'd called him out on being a creep, he'd shoved her, she'd shoved back, and things had only been stopped from escalating further by the timely arrival of Thor and Loki themselves, Thor loudly announcing his presence by asking if she needed any help, Loki endearing himself to her by saying it looked like she had everything under control but he would of course be happy to step in as well if needed for support. Faced with three against one -- or maybe four, Sif didn't know how much Jane could have brought to a fight, but she had taken that self defense course last year, and if nothing else she might have had some pepper spray on her -- Haldor had left with some cutting remark in an attempt to save face, but being forced to retreat had obviously rankled, and he'd been waiting in the shadows for her when she'd left the gym, his breath smelling of cheap beer. Irritation had quickly become anger when he had grabbed her roughly, followed by shock and a brief moment of panic as his groping hands and crude words made it clear what he intended for her. Then years of martial arts classes had kicked in and by the time the gym door had swung open again and Hogun had emerged, she'd had Haldor on the ground and Hogun had helped to make sure he'd stayed there while they'd waited for the cops to arrive, because Sif had found herself saying yes, call them, when Hogun had asked.

Thinking about it, Sif realised something. "It's because he was waiting for me, that's what's bothering me so much. If he'd just been another guy at a party who'd had one beer too many and was getting handsy, I've dealt with that, it wasn't a big deal. But this...it sounded like he knew I'd be here; has he been stalking me? Does he know my schedule, or where I live?" The thought of having to be afraid someone might be lurking in the shadows around her own home was not one she liked.

Skurge squeezed her shoulder briefly. Hogun had left after giving his statement to the police, Sif having assured him that she was fine. "I'm sure you can get a restraining order taken out on him. Do you want to come back inside for a little while? Or are you going to head home?"

"Home, but I'm not sure my head is in the right space for riding right now. And -- the house is going to be empty. Mom's at a neighbour's, playing cards. And I don't want to bother her by calling her, and asking her to come pick me up or anything; she'll know something's wrong and I don't want to talk about it again, at least not this soon." She took a deep breath. She hated how she felt, but talking to the cops had been discomforting.

"How far away do you live? I can give you a lift if you want, and you can come collect your bike tomorrow."

"No, you have a business to run, let me just think a moment." Sif put her head back down into her hands, her ponytail rather frustratingly preventing her from running her hands through it. After a moment she straightened back up as an idea struck her. "Volstagg. If he can come, he can just put my bike in the back of his van; it's big enough." She took out her phone, and hit Volstagg's number. He picked it up on the third ring.

"Hey, Sif, what's up?"

"Hi, I'm at the gym right now and I could use a ride home. If you're not in the middle of anything important, do you think you could come get me?"

"What is it? Engine trouble? Flat tire?"

"No, actually the bike's fine; it's complicated and I'd rather not get into it on the phone. But if you're busy, it's fine, I can -- "

"No, no, it's all right -- hang on, let me double check with Hildegund -- "

Sif waited, hearing Volstagg call out to his wife if it was okay if he went and picked her up.

"Hildegund says it's fine, she can handle the kids until I get back; we were just getting the youngest ones ready for bed. I'll be there in ten minutes tops."

"Thanks," said Sif gratefully. "And bring the van, I do have my bike with me and need to get it home too."

"No problem, I'll see you soon."

He hung up and Sif put her phone away, feeling better already. There was something reassuringly competent about Volstagg; she supposed it came with being a father -- and not just a father, but a father of four kids who made wrangling them all look effortless, taking spills and falls and toddler meltdowns and everything else that came along with parenting in his stride.

"He'll be here shortly," Sif told Skurge.

"That's good." He stretched out his legs comfortably, and leaned back on his hands.

"You don't have to wait with me, I'll be fine, really."

"Eh, the fresh air feels good. I've got time for a break."

Sif couldn't help smiling; with his shaved head and height, Mr. Skurge could look intimidating at first to those who didn't know him -- and he could be as tough as needed when he was in trainer mode if he didn't think you were giving it your all -- but she'd long since learned he had a gentle, supportive side as well. She wouldn't say the word "softie" to his face, but it didn't stop her from thinking it now. And it wasn't like she could call him out about the fresh air, either; while the September afternoons still held the warmth of summer, with the sun setting earlier and earlier each day, the evening air bore the fresh coolness of the oncoming autumn. She tilted her head back to watch the setting sun turn the sky to pink and orange, and it wasn't long before Volstagg's family van pulled into the lot and he cut the engine next to where her bike was parked and hopped out.

Sif stood up, dusting off the back of her jeans and shouldering her duffel bag. "Thanks for waiting with me," she told Mr. Skurge as he stood up as well. "I did appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I guess I'd better get back to work now; you take care of yourself."

"I will," Sif promised. He nodded and left her to head back into the gym.

"Hullo, lass," Volstagg said, sweeping his eyes over her appraisingly after a quick glance at her bike. "You can't simply be out of gas because you'd have told me to bring a can, so do you want to tell me what's up that you can't ride your bike home?"

"Can we put my bike in the van first?" Sif hedged, glad he could not see the bruises that she could feel under her clothing. "I'll tell you once we're inside."

He looked at her a moment longer, enough for Sif to want to squirm under his gaze, but then he nodded and opened the back of the van, taking out the jack that would elevate the bike to the level of the van bed so they could roll it right in. Sif brought her bike over and a couple of minutes later she was guiding it into place on the tarp that Volstagg had already laid down and he was climbing up to help her secure it in place with a bunch of bungee cords he'd brought. Once they'd closed up the back of the van and were settled in the front seats, however, Sif had no more reason to delay. Volstagg looked at her and she took a deep breath.

"I got into a fight. I didn't start it but I ended it. I'm not hurt beyond a few bruises, but...it left me shaken up a bit; I didn't feel like I was in the right headspace for riding safely."

Volstagg's look softened, and he nodded. "I'm glad you called, then. What was the fight about? And what happened to the other guy? If it was a guy...?"

"Yeah, it was, name of Haldor, we'd met, in a manner of speaking, on campus when I told him to get lost when I saw him bothering Jane Foster and refusing to scram when she told him she wasn't interested. And then Thor and Loki showed up and let him know it'd be four against one if he tried to start anything, so he had to back off and retreat. I guess he thought he could reassert his dominance by catching me alone, but that didn't work out as well as he'd planned." Sif's voice took on a note of scornful satisfaction. "He should be at the police station right now, getting booked for assault."

Volstagg was visibly taken aback. "It was that serious? Someone called the cops? Are you sure you're all right?"

"Just some bruises, like I told you." They'd been fresh enough that they hadn't looked too bad yet, but she'd had to show them to the cops to prove there were grounds for an assault and battery charge, had had them photographed. And of course Hogun had been there to back her up, and had testified on her behalf. "Hogun came out of the gym and saw what was happening, and when I had Haldor pinned, he asked if I wanted him to call the cops. I was going to say no, but then I thought about Jane, and what might have happened if this guy had gotten her alone somewhere where no one would see."

She swallowed; this was the hard part. "From the way Haldor grabbed at me, and the things he said -- it didn't go far enough to arrest him for anything other than assault and battery, but I'm pretty sure if I hadn't known how to defend myself, that it would have turned into a sexual assault. And I thought, if I let him walk away from this, he'll think he can keep on harassing women without consequence. So I figured if I could put any kind of a black mark on his criminal record, then it was my duty to do so." She took another deep breath as she finished up.

"Oh, Sif." Volstagg's voice was full of anguish, and he reached out for her hand, unable to pull her into the hug that he wanted to. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"You're already doing it, you're here, you came to get me." She was finally able to look away from the dashboard and meet his eyes. "I just want to go home, except this is Mom's night out playing cards with the neighbours, which means the house is empty, and I don't really want to be by myself in an empty house right now. But I also don't want to have to ask her to come home, because that means I would have to tell her why, and I can't go over it again so soon. I'll tell her tomorrow; I'll have to because of the police involvement, but I just want to forget about it for the rest of the night. I just want to sit down and be quiet and watch a movie or something."

"You know you're always welcome at our place, but I'm afraid I can't promise that quiet. Things are pretty chaotic in the evening getting four kids washed up and ready for bed."

"Yeah, no." Sif thought for a moment, glancing at her watch. She just needed to kill a couple of hours, her mom would be home by then and Sif would have had time to regain her composure and maybe they'd watch something on TV together and then she could take a bath and then head to bed early. But in the meantime...she thought of Thor and Loki's house, where she'd spent so much time over the summer, swimming and playing frisbee outside and darts and board games inside and watching TV or doing puzzles in the den, their parents warm and welcoming from the start. Their house had very much come to feel like a second home to her, and she knew that if she told Loki that she just wanted to watch a movie quietly together with him, he'd be fine with that.

She pulled her hand free from Volstagg's and took out her phone. "I think I'd like to go over to Loki's; I'm going to call and see if he's home."

Loki answered promptly and informed her that not only would he be delighted if she came over, but that Thor had taken Jane out on a date, so they could have the den to themselves to watch whatever she wanted. Also, that his mom had made a peach cobbler and it was a good thing she was coming over tonight because between his father and Thor, the rest of it would probably be gone by tomorrow. Sif smiled at this mental image, and promised she'd be over soon. One of the reasons Frigga was so fond of baking, she thought, was that the menfolk in her family were all very appreciative of her efforts and made sure to tell her that.

"That's good," Volstagg nodded when she told him she was welcome to come over. "Do you want to stop at your place first, drop off your bike and gym things?

"Yeah, I think so. I can walk home from there."

"It'll be dark by then."

"There's streetlights, and house lights, and I can use my phone's flashlight if needed. I do go out after dark, you know."

"Just pointing it out," said Volstagg mildly, and Sif knew that it was because of what had happened, and -- yeah, fair, if Loki offered, she wouldn't object to him walking her home. At her house, they got her motorcycle out of the van and Sif put it in the garage, then ran inside to drop off her duffel bag and leave a note where her mom would see it when she came home saying that she was at Loki's. After that it was just a short ride to Loki's house, located on the next street over in her subdivision, where the porch light was on and Loki was watching for her out the living room window and throwing open the front door for her as soon as he saw her get out of Volstagg's van. Volstagg got out too, though, and came around and enveloped her in a bear hug before she could escape him.

"If that Haldor ever comes near you again," he said in a low voice, "Just let me know and I will rip his balls off for you."

Sif choked on a laugh and hugged him back tightly. "I'll remember that."

Volstagg dropped a kiss on the top of her head and stepped back, giving her a wink. "Can't have anyone threatening my very best babysitter, now can I?"

"I'll sic you on him if he becomes a problem," promised Sif. "But perhaps just a threat would do? I doubt Hildegund would be pleased if you ended up in jail."

"Hm, true. Very well, I can do threats." Volstagg looked like he was enjoying the thought of being able to terrify the shit out of anyone who dared lay their hands on her. "Now go on, your boyfriend's waiting."

Sif grinned, the fact that she had a boyfriend who was gorgeous and intelligent and funny and incredibly sweet still novel enough that she couldn't believe how lucky she was.

"Look after her, lad," Volstagg called to Loki as Sif walked up the front path to join him.

"Always!" Loki called back. "Thanks for bringing her over."

Volstagg raised a hand in acknowledgment as he got into his van, backing out of the driveway as Sif reached Loki and turned to watch him leave.

"Come on in," Loki said, holding the door open for her.

Sif followed him into the kitchen and took her jacket off, draping it over a chair. "So, you mentioned a peach cobbler?"

Loki grinned and got it out of the refrigerator, taking off the plastic wrap that covered it and getting out a plate and utensils and a spatula, cutting off a generous slice and lifting it onto the plate to warm up in the microwave. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge to drink," he said.

Sif snagged the bottle of black cherry pop that always seemed to be on hand since Frigga had discovered it was her favourite flavour and sat down at the kitchen table as Frigga herself came into the room and smiled at her.

"Hello, dear, I heard you come in and thought I'd say hello. Odin and I will be in the living room if you need anything. Do you know what movie you'll be watching?"

"Haven't decided yet," said Sif. "Something light." She took her first bite of the warm cobbler. "Mm, good."

"I'm glad you like it; let me know if you'd like the recipe. You can use either fresh or canned peaches."

"Wait till Mom starts making all her apple recipes," said Loki cheerfully. "You can come over one day and help peel."

"I'd like that," Sif said honestly. She had already been drawn into a couple of cookie and pie-making days over the summer and it had been a lot of fun; having multiple pairs of hands to pitch in had made everything go a lot faster and less like work. And she had always gotten sent home with a share of the results.

"I'll teach you how to make all of Loki's favourites," said Frigga, her eyes twinkling. "You know what they say, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Mom!" Loki protested. "Sif doesn't have to cook for me for me to -- " He caught himself, and changed what he was going to say. "-- like her." And then felt like a specimen under a microscope as two pairs of interested eyes fixed on him. He flushed.

"Of course not," Frigga soothed. "But being able to make delicious food is a skill everyone should have; why do you think I brought you boys up to know your way around a kitchen?"

"Because we were always hanging around hoping for handouts anyway?" asked Loki mischievously.

"That's true; you were," their mother said fondly. "And if you were going to be underfoot, I thought you might as well learn to be useful."

Sif grinned; imagining a small Loki and Thor standing on stools measuring out ingredients and mixing cookie dough.

"All right, I'll leave you two to your movie. Enjoy yourselves." Frigga thought of adding "but not too much", but decided not to tease them any further. She certainly didn't want to discourage wherever their relationship was headed; if she was right about what she thought Loki had been about to say, she couldn't have been more pleased. Since Sif had come into their lives, Loki had simply been radiating happiness, and smiling a lot more than he had in recent years. Confident that she could trust her son to behave appropriately when alone with Sif, she went to rejoin her husband in the living room.

"So, something light, you said." Loki leaned back against the counter. "What do you want to watch? A comedy? Action adventure? Rom com?"

"Hmm," mused Sif, letting him know she was thinking. She was already feeling better, but she wanted something fun, something that didn't require too much thinking or paying attention to the plot. She mentally considered and discarded several possibilities, then hit on one that felt just right. "George of the Jungle." She pointed her fork at him. "I haven't seen that since I was a kid."

"George George George, George of the Jungle," Loki chanted, "Watch out for that tree!" He grinned. "Good choice. I'm pretty sure we kept that DVD. I remember Mom liking it as much as Thor and I did."

Sif smirked, unsurprised. "Did you and Thor used to play at being George, or any kind of Tarzan character?"

"Of course, although Thor was far more over-the-top about it, lots of chest-beating and yelling and all that. But the park near where we used to live in the city had a really cool play structure that included ropes for climbing or swinging on, so yeah, we were living our best monkey lives there for a while. And of course we had our drums, if it was round and made a good thumping noise we turned it into a drum. Coffee cans, oatmeal canisters, the tupperware bowls from the kitchen, you name it. We used to drive Dad crazy; he'd come home from work wanting peace and quiet and we'd be drumming away like there was no tomorrow. Or we'd trade off, one of us drumming and one of us dancing; I thought we were quite good actually," said Loki loftily. "Mother said we were."

"I'm sure you were," said Sif, grinning as she finished off her slice of cobbler and rose to put the plate in the sink. She made a mental note to ask Frigga if there was any video footage of one of the boys leaping about while his brother played a drum -- and she was sure there must be -- because she would pay good money to see that. "Sounds like you had some pretty good times growing up."

"Yeah, we did. Ready to go watch?" He cocked his head at her.

"Lead on." She took a last swig of pop before putting the cap back on and taking the bottle with her as she followed him out of the kitchen and into the cosy pine-paneled den. She glanced over at the table where there usually was a jigsaw puzzle in progress and managed to put in two pieces by the time that Loki had found the DVD and popped it into the player. She joined him on the worn couch in front of the TV, wasting no time in snuggling up against his side. Loki promptly wrapped an arm around her and pressed play.

It was good, just what she needed, and she got caught up in the movie and the feel of Loki beside her, forgetting what had happened earlier. When the credits were rolling, Loki picked the DVD case up and scanned the information on it.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, lazily, her boots pulled off and her feet drawn up on the sofa.

"The year this was made, compared to my mom's age. Thor wasn't even born yet, and my mom..." he thought. "I don't think she and Dad were even married yet. Engaged, maybe? Dating, at least."

"Are you realising your mother probably saw this when it first came out and might have enjoyed it for the -- ah -- charms of its leading man years before she had any little boys to watch it with?" teased Sif, amused.

"I am," replied Loki, looking mildly scandalised in the way of small children realising their teachers had lives outside of the classroom. He picked up his phone and called his mother, not wishing to yell in Sif's ear or leave their shared couch just yet.

"Hello, sweetheart, did you finish your movie?"

"We did, and I was just wondering, is the reason you never minded watching George of the Jungle with me and Thor because you had a crush on Brendan Fraser?"

Frigga's startled laugh was loud enough that Sif could hear her.

"Not Brendan, no, but George? Yes. That movie was very much designed for the female gaze. That scene with the horse -- "

"Yes, yes," said Loki testily, "Sif was grinning like an idiot during that part as well. But weren't you dating Father at the time the movie was released? Or engaged? Did you two go see it together?"

"We did. I think it was probably more my choice than his, but in that case I would have let him choose the next movie that we went out to see."

"How does that work?" exclaimed Loki, the words out of his mouth before he realised he was going to say them. "Not the taking turns choosing a movie, but being attracted to someone else when you're dating, or engaged, or married?"

"You're allowed to look, if you're in a relationship that's based on trust. There are so many attractive people in the world, as long as it stops at looking, and you make sure your partner knows that they're the only one you want in your bed at night, then it's fine."

"Mm." Loki sounded uncertain. He heard his father say something in the background.

"Your father says that you, however, should not take anyone to your bed because you're too young and he's not ready to be a grandfather."

Loki snorted. "Duly noted, but condoms exist, you know." And then his eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut, mortified that he had just said that to his mother, while sitting next to Sif. He liked the place their relationship was in, and didn't want her to feel that he wanted more yet, or that he was expecting it. He glanced sideways at her, and was relieved to see that she looked like she was trying to not laugh.

"I do, and I'm glad you do too; shall I relay that remark to your father?"

"No, that's not necessary," said Loki hastily. "Just reassure him that I have every intention of enjoying a child-free college experience. And now I am going to hang up before I embarrass myself further in front of my date. Talk to you later." He hung up the phone.

"Just so you know," said Sif, close enough to have heard Frigga's words, "There is no one that I'd rather be with than you right now."

"Same," said Loki, and his gaze dropped to her lips as his head tilted in invitation.

Sif closed the distance between them, tangling one hand in his hair and kissing him without hesitation, feeling his one hand settle at the small of her back, the other cradling the back of her neck. Loki was an amazing kisser; apparently playing the flute taught you how to use your mouth and lips really well. Time melted away as Loki drove every thought from her head, until, as they shifted to find a more comfortable position, his grip shifted to her lower arm in a bid to urge her onto his lap, and Sif flinched back, unable to completely stifle a cry of pain.

Loki immediately let her go. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"

"Not you. Sorry. I just got some bruises today at the gym, and you pressed down on one." Sif rubbed her right arm lightly.

"Are you all right? Can I see? So I know where they are?"

Sif hesitated, then unbuttoned the cuff of her flannel shirt and rolled it up. They'd darkened in the last couple of hours, and stood out unmistakably against her tanned skin, five evenly spaced circles.

Loki very gently took her hand in his and turned her forearm so he could see them all. Fingerprints, he thought. She'd been at the gym, not her martial arts studio. There was no reason someone should have grabbed her hard enough to leave bruises on her arm. Something fierce and protective rose up inside him. "What happened?"

Sif rolled her sleeve back down, not wanting to go over it again but remembering Frigga's words about a good relationship being built on trust. "Remember that guy that was hassling Jane the other day at college?"

"Haldor. Yes."

"He was waiting for me when I left the gym this evening. He started a fight, I ended it."

"I don't suppose I can look forward to seeing him with a spectacular black eye Monday, can I?" Loki asked hopefully. Not that Haldor was in any of his classes, but he could keep a look out for him around campus, or go and watch Thor practice.

Sif smiled. "No, but I did knee him in the groin and when he started to fold, landed a good uppercut to his jaw. Although...I'm not sure if he'll be back, or for how long."

Loki was pleased by her recital but his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She met his eyes. "I called the cops, charged him with assault. Not sure if that might lead to a suspension or something."

Startled, Loki opened his mouth to say something -- but then closed it again, thinking first as he ran his eyes over Sif. She didn't seem to be seriously hurt anywhere, but that she'd involved the cops and pressed charges meant that something more serious than a casual fight had happened.

"I'm all right, truly," she assured him, guessing what he was thinking. "A couple more bruises and that's it. He definitely took more damage."

"Yet you called the cops? Not that I have a problem with that, but...did something else happen? Did he threaten you?"

Damn Loki for being so perceptive, she thought with annoyance. "I called the cops because he heavily implied that he wanted to rape me." Sif said bluntly, sick to death of having to talk about it. "And men like him need to learn that women aren't going to take shit like that lying down." She grimaced. "Bad choice of words."

"He didn't -- are you -- " Loki's shock was giving way to fury. "If he touched you -- "

"Nothing beyond a few gropes that made his intentions clear, if his words weren't enough. I'm fine," she said, and realised she meant it. "I was kind of shaken up earlier, but I'm feeling a lot better now. Being here with you helped a lot."

"I'm glad," He reached out to stroke her hair. "Is there anything else I can do? And did the cops say what was going to happen to Haldor?"

"Unless he's already got a record of previous offenses, he'll probably get off with a fine and probation. Maybe have to take an anger management class or something like that. The cops will get in touch with me to keep me updated or if I need to testify in court, which they think unlikely." Her phone rang, and she picked it up and answered it after a glance at the caller ID.

"Hi, Mom, did you get my note? Are you home now?" She listened and nodded. "Okay, I'll be home shortly. See you soon." She hung up.

"That was my mom, I left her a note saying to call me when she got home from the neighbour's, because I didn't really want to hang out alone after what happened. So thank you for having me over. But do you think you could walk me home?"

"Yes, of course!" Loki scrambled to his feet, taking the DVD out of the player and shutting everything else off while Sif finished off her pop. She collected her jacket from the kitchen while Loki told his parents he was going to walk Sif home, and they went outside, Loki snagging his own hoodie from the front closet as they did so. It was dark out by now, but a full moon added its light to the scene and the night air was pleasant enough that they took the long way around, walking hand in hand, instead of cutting through a couple of people's yards as they tended to do during the day. When they got to Sif's house, he turned to her on her doorstep.

"May I kiss you good night?"

"You may."

He took her face between his hands and kissed her at first gently, and then a little more thoroughly when she grabbed hold of the front of his sweatshirt and kept him from pulling away too soon.

They were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, Sif reluctantly pulling away to glare at her mother.

"I thought I'd save you having to get your key out," Gna said cheerfully. "Hello, Loki, thank you for walking Sif home."

"It was my pleasure," Loki said, keeping his aplomb and a grip on one of Sif's hands, not so easily dismissed. "Shall I tell my parents you said hello?"

"Please do." Then, accepting that they wanted a few more moments to say goodbye, she smiled indulgently. "Don't stay out there too long, Sif, it's late."

"I'll be right in," Sif promised. Her mother nodded and retreated inside the house.

Loki swung her hand gently. "Got any plans for tomorrow?"

"I've got some homework I need to work on, but that can wait till after supper. If you've got the afternoon free, do you want to go to the cider mill? It's opening weekend, and it'll be crazy crowded, but sometimes that's part of the experience, y'know?"

"I'd love to," Loki said happily. "Should I mention it to Thor?"

"Yeah, if we want to bring a couple of gallons of cider home, we'll want his pick-up. And they've also got donuts, and caramel apples, and fudge, and some hiking trails through the woods we can go on."

"it sounds perfect. And if I bring some fudge home for my dad, I will win so many points."

"Tell your parents if they want to go, it'll be less busy during the week when kids are in school."

"All right, I will, and I'm looking forward to it. Give me a call tomorrow when you're ready to go. Or for any other reason, at any time," he said seriously. "If you want to talk, or need help, you can always call me. You know that, right?"

A lump rose in Sif's throat, and she stepped forward and hugged him tightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I know that. And the same goes for you, too. You can call anytime."

She stepped back, and Loki reluctantly let her go. "I know." He glanced towards the living room window, where he thought her mother probably was, but the drapes had been drawn for the night. "You'd better go in now, before your mom comes back to check on us." He pressed one last kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Sif."

"Sweet dreams, Loki." She went inside, and waved as he glanced back as he went down the front walk to the street. She locked up and turned to see her mother watching her from the couch in the living room, some show playing on the TV. Sif yawned suddenly, and her mother laughed.

"Tired?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to go take a bath and make an early night of it. Did you have a good time next door?"

"I did; did you have a good time at Loki's?" The look on Gna's face made it clear that she already knew the answer to this.

"I did." Sif was glad that her mother hadn't asked about her whole day, or her time at the gym.

"I'm glad; enjoy your bath, darling."

Sif nodded and collected some clean clothes from her bedroom and went into the bathroom, locking the door. She stripped off down to her sports bra, and glared at the bruises purpling her skin, more than Loki had seen. It was different than getting bruised from hard sparring, or from a martial arts competition. Those were expected, and gained in combat with other honourable warriors. These were reminders that someone had put their hands on her that she hadn't given permission to, and she took out her tube of arnica cream to apply after the bath, wanting them gone as soon as possible. The twin sets of finger and thumb prints on her forearms would be in full view tomorrow at the cider mill unless she wore a long-sleeved shirt, and she didn't want to feel that she should have to to hide them unless the weather warranted it. She hadn't done anything wrong, but she didn't want to deal with any well-meaning questions about how she'd gotten them or if she needed any help. Her lips thinned with anger. Well, let them ask, she'd tell them exactly who'd done it. She'd love it if Haldor tried to get a date or a job and couldn't because she'd ruined his reputation. She started the bath water running as she finished undressing, but her earlier good mood had been replaced by irritation, and she got out the box of bath fizzers that her mom had given her for her birthday, feeling that she deserved something a little special today and choosing a sweet pea one from the remaining balls. She dropped it into the water and got in after it, enjoying the feel of it fizzing against her skin as she adjusted the water temperature to pleasantly hot and shut the faucet off, relaxing as she slid down until the back of her head rested against the edge of the tub, breathing in the sweet fragrance. Instead of dwelling on having to tell more people (her mother, at least, and Thor if he saw the bruises) about the attack, she thought about what she was looking forward to about tomorrow.

Introducing Thor and Loki to the cider mill on what was supposed to be another day of perfect weather for it. They could have gone on the hiking trails during the summer, but past experience had taught her that the woods were thick with mosquitos in the usual humid summer heat, and without the lure of the stream as someplace closer than the beach to cool down, it hadn't felt worth it, not when she now had friends even closer with a brand new swimming pool in their backyard. She smiled as she remembered the day one photo after another had begun arriving on her phone in rapid succession. One of the sign in front of the local pool store. Then one of Loki with the broadest smile she'd ever seen standing in front of a model pool, half filled with water and various floatie toys, along with the message Guess what? A picture of Thor with an equally big grin on his face holding a large inflatable alligator and a pool skimmer had followed.

She had texted back both of them. What's going on?, excitement filling her as she guessed the answer but wanting confirmation.

WE'RE GETTING A POOL!!!, Loki had sent back, along with a picture of their parents standing at a counter with a store employee and several bottles of pool chemicals.

A photo had arrived from Thor showing a weighted ring diving game. ?  He had asked.

Waste of money, Sif had texted back. You can use plastic clothespins.

The next photo, from Loki, had shown a basketball type hoop that could be attached to the side of the pool, along with another question mark. Maybe?  She had sent back. How much is it?

There had been a pause, then a price had appeared followed by Maybe if we find it on sale somewhere. Sif remembered texting her agreement, thinking it was something that might have been worth the investment if the boys had been ten years younger. She remembered going over to their house to watch the pool being installed, the three of them sitting on top of the picnic table on their patio as they'd watched the walls of the pool rise with interest, remembered the anticipation building as the garden hose had been fed over the side of the pool and the water had been turned on full blast. She remembered their excitement dimming as they'd watched how very very slowly the water level was rising, and having to accept the fact that it was going to be a couple of days before the pool was ready for swimming, Odin informing them that once it was full they'd have to add the chemicals to sanitise the water and then wait another 24 hours after that before they would be allowed to go in.

They'd sought solace and distraction at the lake the next day, but they'd all been more than ready when the all clear had been given on the morning of the fourth day. Sif remembered donning her bikini and a cover-up and stuffing anything else she might need in her beach bag and heading over right after breakfast, and not coming home until dinnertime, waterlogged and sunbaked and happy, her skin smelling pleasantly of chlorine. She remembered days of fun and friendship, and evenings floating lazily around the pool on a raft, full from a cook-out, the smell of the barbeque grill still lingering on the air and the sound of her mother talking with Frigga and Odin on the patio, Loki on his raft bumped up next to hers, their hands joined together and hidden between them as the sun slowly set and the mosquitos came out in full force and drove them back under the water until her mother had called for her to come out and go home with her.

She felt herself calm, and center, and turned onto her side to let the heat of the water warm up her front. It had been a good summer, and she thought about what they had to look forward to in the fall. The cider mill, and scuffling through fallen leaves as they hiked through the woods. Going to Thor's home football games to cheer him on, snug in hoodies and sweaters and flannel-lined jeans, with a thermos full of mulled cider or pumpkin spice coffee and a plaid blanket to share between her and Loki. Halloween. The college had an annual masquerade ball to celebrate which had been quite good last year; Fandral had liberated some realistic-looking prop swords from the theater department and some costuming bits and pieces and they had dragged Hogun into it and they'd all gone as the Three Musketeers. She wondered if Loki would want to do themed costumes and tried to picture what he'd look good as. She thought of his flute -- the Pied Piper, maybe? But then who was she supposed to be, a giant rat?

She frowned and sat up to grab the soap bar, washing briskly and getting out of the tub to dry off as the water drained. She'd have to call Loki, suggest he start thinking about it so they had time to get a decent costume together. She got into her pajamas and warm fuzzy socks and sat down on her bed and texted him. Do u want to do matching Halloween costumes this year?

For what? he asked cautiously, his reply soon arriving. Aren't we a bit too old to go trick-or-treating?

Masquerade ball at college. Not quite as fancy as it sounds but costume is required. And last year Jane and Darcy's dorm was giving out candy and inviting people they liked in for stuff like apple pie and pizza and board games. So u wanna dress comfy, nothing too restricting.

Hmm. Pirates?

We could, but Fandral and I did that year before last.

Pass, then. Rock stars?

Too much like regular clothing unless we do disco or glam. Not feeling it.

There was a pause. Hang on, let me go find something.

A couple of minutes later a picture arrived on her phone. It was the front of one of those clothing pattern packets they sold at the fabric store, she realised. The drawing on the envelope showed two young people, the guy wearing what she thought was called a doublet and hose and the girl in a pretty but comfortable-looking dress, the skirt wide enough to allow for free movement. Renaissance Lovers, the envelope proclaimed. Loki would look fantastic in something like this, she thought, his long legs shown off to advantage in the hose, the doublet emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips.

I'm listening, she typed.

U wanna do something like this?

Not usually a dress person, but if we can find something like this? Yeah. You'd look hot.

We don't have to look for it. Another picture arrived, with Loki wearing what was obviously a costume based on the pattern, the doublet forest green with accents of gold and his legs encased in close-fitting ivory tights that left little to the imagination. Sif enlarged the photo, her eyes wide. Despite seeing Loki in nothing but swim trunks for a good many days of this past summer, the tights were way more revealing. I played Romeo in my 11th grade school play, he typed. Still have the outfit.

I am looking respectfully, she sent back. V. good look on u. Is that top velvet?

Yep. My mom made it.

Holy shit. It had embroidery on it, too, Sif saw. I'll never find anything that looks as good.

Told u you don't have to. My mom can make the dress for u.

Loki, u can't ask her -- look I'm gonna call u. She closed out the text and pressed his number. When he answered, she went on. "Loki, you can't ask your mom to make me a Halloween costume like I'm five years old! A dress like that would take time, and effort, and money!"

"She'd be happy to do it," he insisted. "She always made costumes for me and Thor if we couldn't find what we wanted."

"But you're her children, not me! I'm a grown woman, I can buy my own dress to wear."

"Not something nice," Loki said stubbornly. "It'll be cheap-looking polyester crap."

Sif couldn't argue with that, but of course no one wanted to spend a lot of money on a costume that would only be worn for one day. But maybe Fandral could borrow something from the theater department again that could work.

"She made the dress for my co-star in the play, and she wasn't anything like the family friend that you are," Loki argued.

Sif felt warmed by being thought of as a friend to the whole family, and not just Loki's girlfriend. And truly she felt that way, with the way she had been welcomed into their lives and made to feel at home. She wavered.

"Is your mom still up that you could ask her? And make it clear that it's your idea, not mine, and I'm not expecting anything!"

"Yes, of course, I'll be right back!"

Loki sounded like an eager puppy that had just been promised a treat, and since he didn't hang up, she could hear his and Frigga's voices in the background a few moments later. And then Frigga came on the line, her voice warm and enthusiastic.

"I would love to make you a dress for Halloween, Sif, it's no trouble at all, really. I'm already familiar with the pattern and the only finicky part is cutting all the pieces to size. The sewing's not difficult at all and the embellishments are the fun part, I like having something to do with my hands when I'm watching TV in the evenings."

Sif could just picture Frigga beaming at her, and Loki looking just as happy to have his confidence in his mother being proved justified. How could she say no? "If you're sure -- " she began.

"I am."

"Then I accept, and thank you, but I want to pay for it. All the materials, and whatever you think is a fair price for your labour."

"That's fine," said Frigga after a moment of silence. "There's always coupons and sales, we'll find a nice piece of fabric at a good price. Light wool, I think, would be most versatile for this time of year, although a heavier brushed cotton might look nice as well, something that could work with both cooler and warmer weather depending on what you wear underneath. An autumn colour, perhaps? Russet? Or a lighter shade of green to coordinate with Loki's doublet? Well, we'll see what they have when we get to the fabric store. Loki told me you're going to the cider mill tomorrow; what about Sunday? I could come over after lunch and take your measurements, and then we can go shopping?"

"I...um, yeah, all right," Sif said, somewhat dazed at the speed with which this was moving along. She supposed Loki had been right in thinking his mother would enjoy making the dress, and she remembered the first time they'd met, and Frigga mentioning they would have liked to have had a daughter, too.

"Excellent. It's not going to take a whole month to make, of course, but better to get started early just in case anything comes up later."

"Like what?" Sif heard herself asking.

"Machine could need servicing?" Frigga suggested after a moment of thinking. "Which reminds me, I don't know where I'd get it done around here. But I expect they'd know at the fabric store, if they don't have someone there themselves that works on them; I'll have to ask."

"Oh. Okay."

"Or someone could get sick," Frigga continued on blithely. "We're generally a healthy lot around here, but cold and flu season is coming up, and I wouldn't want to be working on your dress when I'm contagious with something."

"No," said Sif. "Of course not." This was what it must feel like to be caught up in an undertow, she thought, and had the sudden image of Loki standing there grinning, listening to them. "Well then, I'll see you Sunday. Call me whenever you want to go."

"I will, darling, and I'll look forward to it. Loki's gesturing for me to hand back his phone, so I'll say good night to you now."

"Good night, sleep tight," Sif said automatically, and then felt a bit silly for adding that until Frigga added "Don't let the bedbugs bite" without missing a beat. Sif grinned and then Loki took his phone back.

"Hah!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "What did I tell you? We are going to look great together. And I asked Thor about the cider mill, and he said he'd be happy to drive us, and he's already asked Jane to come along as well, if that's okay."

"Yeah, sure. Are you going to come by and pick me up?"

Yeah; early afternoon sometime all right with you? I don't think any of us want to get up early on a Saturday morning."

"Sounds good. Call me before you come over, so I can get ready." She heard the sound of his footsteps, presumably returning to his bedroom.

"Will do. I suppose we should say good night now."

"Probably." She didn't hang up and neither did he. She gave a little huff of laughter. "What's that quote about parting is such sweet sorrow?"

"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow." Loki's voice went soft, caressing, and Sif swallowed, wishing he were in this room right now with her.

"Yeah, that." She made another self-deprecating noise. "I don't know why it's so hard to hang up when I'll be seeing you tomorrow. It's just...I'm so glad you moved to town. I can't imagine my life without you in it anymore."

"I feel the same way," Loki said softly.

Sif took a deep breath, words wanting to bubble up in her throat, but they were the sort of words that were best said face-to-face for the very first time. Perhaps besides the stream in the woods tomorrow; she could ask Jane to take Thor off in a different direction so she and Loki could have some privacy. Jane would understand.

"Sif?"

"Yeah?"

"The sooner we hang up and go to bed, the sooner tomorrow will come."

Sif snorted. "Did your mother used to tell you that on Christmas Eve?"

"I seem to remember it mostly being aimed at Thor, but yes. So," he said briskly. "Since the hour waxes late and we must practice at being sensible adults, good night, Sif, and sweet dreams. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Loki," said Sif, still smiling. "And sweet dreams. I'm looking forward to it. Bye." She finally hung up, putting her phone on charge before going to seek a bedtime snack and to spend a little time with her mother before going to bed. To get it over with, and not wanting anything to spoil tomorrow, she told her mother briefly of what had happened, but it was already feeling distant, the love and support of her friends surrounding her like a protective armour. She reassured her mother that she was fine, and meant it, and they watched the opening segment of the late night talk show together before Sif announced that she was turning in, rising and stretching with a yawn. Her mother stood up as well, and gave her a hug. It was perhaps a little tighter than usual, but Sif didn't mind, nor did she mind it when her mother followed her into her room and tucked her into bed with a kiss and a "Good night; I love you."

"Love you too," Sif replied, enjoying the feel of the blanket tucked snugly behind her back in the way she could never manage to do by herself. The ritual was not quite the every night thing that it had once been, but her mother always seemed to know when she needed it. "G'night."

Her mother turned out the light as she left, closing the door most of the way behind her but leaving it just ajar enough that Sif could hear the faint murmur of the television set, the sound turned down lower so as not to disturb her, the sliver of low light coming in from the hall if she looked that way comforting as well. She was asleep in minutes, and if she dreamed, she did not remember it when she woke the next morning, feeling rested but enjoying the comfort of her bed too much to rise immediately, thinking of the day ahead, thinking of Loki. Anticipation filled her, and she threw back the sheets and bounced to her feet, opening her window and letting in the fresh morning air. It felt like it was going to be a perfect day to spend outside, and she began picking out the clothes she wanted to wear and throwing them on her bed.

Dreams were all well and good, but real life was even better, and she had every intention of enjoying hers to its fullest. 

*****

A/N: Had this basically done back in July, but I didn't feel the tone of the beginning was quite right and it bothered me enough not to post it. Finally figured out what needed adjusting and hope it's no less enjoyable for the wait.