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minorhoursmagazine · 2 years

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Issue 18, containing: The Things that I Have Learned about Plants, Small, Nice Things, The Realizations of Adulthood, Letters, Commonplaces, &c.

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SOME EDITORIAL NOTES

For me this month has been strangely harder than any in many years. Harder, because of numerous things of which we are all aware, but also because there is a chance at a better life ahead -- but only, perhaps, a chance.

I've been practicing at this concept of a gentler life -- how it will be to live as if disaster isn't always imminent -- for ages, as a kind of coping mechanism. The idea that these tactics might now come into practice not as a way of meeting the bare necessities, but as a way of elevating above the lowest level of Maslow's hierarchy, is a dream and a wonder and an uncertainty that feels almost cruel. It sometimes feels easier to churn my way through garbage, head down and trudging onward, than it is to succumb to the hope of a chance out.

But that, I think, is my next task. To accept that hope can be offered. To accept that I don't have to just survive, but can someday thrive. To accept that the world might be, can be, better than it was.

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THE THINGS THAT I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT PLANTS

At this time last year, I had in my possession three plants: an English ivy that I had managed to mostly kill once but which had since rallied beautifully, a thing that I identify as a pothos but which is mostly just Leg, and the oldest of all, a chive that had been dug out of a friend's garden and handed to me unceremoniously a few years back.

These plants survived my mostly benign neglect because my chives wilt like a fainting maiden in a Gothic novel when they need water, and I discovered that both the ivy and the pothos liked being watered on the chives's fainting schedule.

Then, of course, came March of last year. With more time at home, less time outdoors, and Pinterest a willing accomplice in my downfall, I started acquiring more plants. The first new members of the garden -- a sweet mint and a German thyme -- integrated well. Genius! I thought. Look at the majesty of my indoor plantings! Look at this kitchen table that I have devoted to my plants and, secondarily, my laptop and work supplies. See the majestic mirror placed in the corner like a reflective illusionist, bouncing light and leaves and the slight suggestion that I might know what I'm doing.

It is at this point that I went A Bit Mad. I decided that I was, in fact, doing so well with this plant thing that I should go forth and commit further flora upon my apartment. I hit up a gardening center and returned with lavender, French thyme, lemon balm, a Hobbit jade, a showy sedum, a parlor palm, and catmint.

The catmint would prove my undoing.

Unbeknownst to me, the catmint had brought with it what I have come to assume were spider mites. The plant died and then, because I had placed it with the others -- not realizing, in a glory of irony, that one must quarantine new plants for a period before adding them to the collection -- the others started dying off as well. And, further, because I didn't realize what was occurring, and also perhaps because I should've read a book or something, the plants met their makers in a variety of ways: root rot, over-pruning, under-watering, more mites, grubs??, poor weather, and possibly mange.

Of the plants that have survived since summer, I have the Hobbit jade, which I believe I'm under-watering, the sedum, which is down to two wee leggy stalks, the sweet mint (one wee leggy stalk), the possibly dead but possibly just underwatered (or maybe fine??) French thyme, the lavender (which had a jump of growth that promptly died off again, so god knows), the parlor palm (which I suspect is trying to die from chill), the pothos which continues leggy, and the chives that apparently are made of sterner stuff than all the rest of them, again much like Gothic heroines.

One theory is that due to weather and whatnot, some of the plants that appear dead or dying are just hibernating until the spring -- my hope, in fact, for the lavender, which may have gotten ahead of itself on a warm week. I don't have a lot of faith in this particular theory, but again, perhaps reading a book on the subject would be Helpful. (Recommendations would be vastly appreciated.)

But despite the setbacks and the very sad appearance of my kitchen table at the moment, I have learned some important things, which I am happy to share with you now:

1. Purchasing a small binder and converting it into a plant diary was, in fact, helpful and not just an excuse to use multiple highlighters. While some data points did not prove useful (a watering chart is just not in the cards for me), the diary aspect proved extremely helpful as a method of marking the time and care spent on each plant. I also created sections both for the scientific information regarding each plant, and for the behaviors of my plants, because--

2. It was very startling to me to discover that every plant is an individual, outside of the commonly expressed needs of their species. I'm not certain, for instance, that chives are naturally fainters-- but mine is, and it's good to learn that about it.

3. Not least because, as it turns out, I am terrible about over-attending my plants. My original plants did well because I only really paid attention to them when I noticed my chives had fainted -- what I now call my "canary" plant for watering certain other ones. The diary here is helpful again, to remind me to care for my plants on a reasonable schedule, but I also benefit from developing little plant communities that help inform me of one another's needs.

4. While I can feel sad that a plant has not survived my clumsy care, it is apparently in the nature of gardening to make these mistakes. What I learn this time prevents me from doing the same thing in future-- and, in very plain terms, the cost of error is not prohibitive. Even my most expensive plant, the parlor palm, cost less than a good Grubhub delivery, and it has provided months of joy and air purification. This leads, however, to my most important discovery to date, which is:

5. Quarantining! Apparently useful in more than one circumstance? Shocking, but true.

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SMALL, NICE THINGS

Thanks to a holiday gift from my office, a timely sale on Amazon, and the alignment of the stars, I was able to subsidize the purchase of a home robot -- specifically, the Yeedi K700, a vacuum/mop plate bebe who I have, naturally, named Florian.

If you have the opportunity, I heartily recommend house robots. They're like pets who clean up after themselves. I haven't tested out the mop function yet, even though that was technically why I bought this model, but the vacuum alone has led to a general uptick in the quality of my living space. Every morning I pick Florian up, turn him over, and gently clean his brushes and empty his decently spacious dust compartment. It takes less than five minutes, but it's always astonishing how much he's picked up (astonishing... and somewhat eye-twitching, because my god, if this is what he's picking up daily, then...).

After setting him back at his station, I then clear the way for him: pick up cords, tuck away drapes, and generally tidy. A click of a button, and his female-coded voice pipes up that he's starting his cleaning cycle, which takes about an hour in total. With the exception of the butler's pantry (which is raised about an inch above the rest of the floor, and so beyond Florian's reach), my house robot can get to every room in the apartment before he has to go back to his charge station. He can get under most furniture, and has only gotten stuck once (though he has eaten a sock and attempted to make off with my youngest child's bed curtain).

Having a daily-cleaned house is, obviously, an enormously wonderful thing in and of itself, but I also love seeing Florian just making his way around, reminding me of the place robots have not just as replacements for humans in dangerous situations, but as collaborative workers, assistive devices, and, frankly, Metal Doggos Just Trying Their Best. When I found Florian stuck under my bed, I instantly went into the soft cajoling voice I use for sick children and sad pets, murmuring pidgin German while gently extracting him from his position.

He had lost all his battery power under there; I couldn't even pretend that he "heard" me. But I'm glad it was my immediate response, that I didn't even think to do otherwise. The care of others should not be dependent on their reaction to it, I think. It's a little hard to articulate, and I'm pretty sure others have done so more adroitly, but: I don't want to be the kind of person who wouldn't seek to assist and comfort the hurt and helpless, and I'm glad I got to experience a tiny proof that maybe I'm not.

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THE REALIZATIONS OF ADULTHOOD

One of the interesting parts of growing up is discovering that the aesthetics that I craved as a Youth have unexpected downsides. One of my most treasured mental pictures was of rooms filled with shelves of interesting things, books everywhere, things hanging from the ceiling, etc.

I have, to a degree, accomplished some of these goals. Which is how I discovered what those movie sets, photography still-lives, and Instagram posts apparently never had to deal with: dust.

Dust, as we all know, comes from leaks in the spectral Hourglass of Time, and it particularly likes to cling to tiny figurines, corners that befuddle your plate-shaped robot, and the tops of books. Dusting can be a very meditative act, but it can also become, shall we say, annoying to continually have to clean things that were only there to make your shelves look interesting.

All this to say, I am coming to an appreciation of clear plastic or glass storage containers. I need to be able to see things, so that I can remember that they exist, but a single flat surface, rather than an English muffin's worth of a crannies, is eminently more approachable for a single person maintaining a house. Hiring a cleaner would, I suppose, be another option, but it seems a much more expensive solution than just investing in some nice lidded storage options.

Besides... apothecary jars are very within that beloved aesthetic. I can still make it work.

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A NOTE TO GENTLE READERS

One of the other gifts given to me by my work was a bottle of champagne. The question now is: Can I cook with it? Should I cook with it? Dear readers, do you have any suggestions? Alternately: Should I just make something up, and report the results?

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LETTERS

From the Magazine, to the Rum Cakes In Potentia, "Please Consider":

Following certain unfortunate activities near the start of January, the Editors went forth and tried to recreate the rum cakes of their youth, the ones sent us from Collins Street Bakery by long-gone grandparents. They were, to a degree, successful -- the cake was similar, though not an exact replica, and was intensely delicious. Following this success, the Editors purchased the ingredients for yet more rum cake, having found it to be an easy and excellent recipe.

But since the acquisition of these ingredients, the act of actually making the next round of rum cakes has eluded us. Not to put it indelicately, but: What's up with that? Are you, like, avoiding us? Come on, guys! You're here, we're here, let's make this happen! Eagerly awaiting your response.

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From Some Butternut Squash Pasta, to the Magazine, "We've Never Stopped Loving You":

As avid readers, we were delighted to see that you've referenced the apple-and-pasta-thing recipe more than once in your pages. This year, you used us, the butternut folk, instead of pumpkin, and that's fine, we understand that sometimes people come to us out of necessity rather than for our own merits. But you made the apple thing with us at least three times last fall, so we know we must've done well by you.

We're writing to say, though, that... we're still available? At your grocery store? You probably thought we were a seasonal item, and maybe the pumpkin variant is, but we're still here, and we just want to remind you: hey. You really like that apple thing. Why not make it again? Why not make a place in your heart (or your stomach)... for us?

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COMMONPLACES

From Dylan Moran's What It Is:

Go and get a job. Go and find a flat. Find somebody else, put them in the flat. Make them stay. Get a toaster. Go to work. Get on the bus. Look at your boss, say “fuck.” Sit down, pick at the thing, Go blank, Scream internally, Go home. Listen to the radio Look at the other person, think, “why, why did this happen?” Go to bed. Lie awake! at night! Get up, feel groggy, Put the things on — your clothes, whatever they’re called Go out the door Into work Same thing, same people again, It’s real. It is happening to you. Go home again! Sit! Radio! Dinner! GARDENINGGARDENINGGARDENINGdeath.

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From Amanda Gorman's "The Hill We Climb":

It's because being American is more than a pride we inherit, it’s the past we step into and how we repair it

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ANNOUNCEMENTS

I have no particular announcements at this time, except that evidently my subconscious is clamoring for apple-pasta thing and rum cake, so perhaps this is something I should bend my mind toward in the coming days.

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If you would like to write a letter to be produced/answered in the magazine, please email me at [email protected] with the subject line:

Letter to the Magazine: [subject of letter as you would like to see it printed]

If you wish the letter to be anonymous or under a nom de plume, please state so in the body of the email; similarly, if you'd rather not be printed at all, please also state so in the body of the email. It will otherwise be assumed that mail sent to that address is intended for print.

Alternately, commenting on the Patreon post will get you a similar result, with much less fuss.

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As always, you can find me at my regular website, katherinecrighton.com, or via twitter, at @c_katherine.

To support the magazine and get it delivered directly to your inbox, join the Patreon.

-Until next week, be safe.

#the minor hours and small thoughts magazine #katherine crighton #january 24 2021

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why-bless-your-heart · 3 years

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Me at 1:30 am: I should take up gardening.

#I’m really intrigued by the idea of an ‘edible forest’ garden #I also want to see about digging out a backyard pond and raising fish #I’m going to try to start just by pruning all the stuff that was killed by the snowstorm #The trees up front will probably need a professional but I can at least tackle the backyard bushes

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

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yan Shigaraki pt. iii

Also known as: MOMMY KINK

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only, dubcon, mentions of rape, bondage, drugging, kidnapping, blow jobs, cunniliginus, vaginal fingering, mind break, manipulation, prostate milking, switching, mommy kink, DARK FIC

Word Count: 9307

Notes: back y’all. this one focuses on that mommy kink everyone has been requesting, so, uh, come get your juice.

this fic is dedicated to & beta edited by @kugutsuu. i am but a humble acolyte at her shrine, so if you wanna see some grade A mommy kink, or more Tomura porn, plz, go read her stuff. it is marvelous.

Part III: MOMMY KINK

part i || part ii

The shower is grimy. Thankfully, most of the stains are old patches of soap scum or neglected bits of grout. You’d asked Tomura once, to clean it, but he’d just chuckled and shoved you into the glass box, saying he’d think about it, if you’re good.

It’s a pity you haven’t made it back onto the “good,” list.

It’s been three weeks and although Tomura has kept you close, hardly letting you slip from his sight, binding you when he has to leave the confines of his room, he’s clearly sulking in his lingering annoyance. An annoyance that’s firmly directed at you.

His touches are less frequent and there’s been a decided lack of that early, awed, wonderment and soft persistences. He used to stroke his fingers down your skin when you slept beside him, careful to let you know that he’s being cautious, not wanting to frighten, or worry you. Now, when he flops beside you, he turns his back, curling up, on his side of the mattress, shouldering off your tentative pets.

He’s distant and you can’t adjust to it.

You reach for the plain sliver of bar soap and work it into your shivering arms, building suds and foam under your fingers. The shower door is fogging up, thick with the wet heat from the spraying water, but you can make out Tomura’s outline. He’s perched on a low stool, one that he’s placed specifically in the tiled room, so he can keep an eye on you, so he can make sure you don’t try to slither away from him again.

It’s frustrating, the warring closeness and aloofness he’s giving you, and you grumpily slough off the bubbles of soap, watching as they swirl down the rusted drain. You were going to come back, you justify, wetting your hair and hoping there’s enough shampoo left to give it a proper soak. You only wanted to get your cat. It’s not your fault he’d forgotten him, when he’d drugged you and placed you under his power. Sure, you could have told him about the feline, but you just…

You wanted to do it yourself.

Since he’s taken you, you don’t get to do a lot of things by yourself anymore and you needed to prove...no...that’s not right. You’d wanted to taste the fresh air that night and yank yourself out from under Tomura’s omnipresent thumb. It’s exhausting, being held like this. You know, in his own twisted way, that Tomura loves you and there’s some answering part of you that’s starting to care for him, too, but those feelings don’t make you any less caged. Besides, you sigh, combing the shampoo into your hair, how could you not find yourself slipping into a ragged dependency?

How were you possibly supposed to prevent those budding needs? After all, took care of you and he fed you, both physically and sexually. God, you’d never had anyone fuck you like he did. You’re almost certain that he’d been a virgin when he fucked you, that first night, but damn, he’d more than made up for his inexperience with a genuine desire to see you satisfied.

It’s an odd rush of emotions.

You feel equal parts guilt and anger pressing at you. You didn’t mean for this to happen and it’s not fair he’s still taking it out on you. Besides, you’d only wanted to get your cat that night. You didn’t have grand plans of escape, or reporting Tomura’s undoubted villain status to the police. No, you would have come back. The most you would have risked was sneaking one quiet night's sleep in your old bed, but you would have slunk back to him in the morning, ready to see his outstretched arms and those lovely, fervid, eyes that flashed so much adoration when they rested upon you.

Yes, it had all gone to plan, that is, until he caught you.

He hadn’t spoken much, since that night, and you missed those early conversations the two of you shared. You know you’ve perturbed him, angered him, hurt him, and it’s starting to feel like there's nothing you can do about it.

However, while you were kept under strict watch, your rescued cat, on the other hand, has grown into a regal prince, free to strut about the hideout, often weaving under Tomura’s red shoes. Never, never, ever, would you have thought that you’d be jealous of a cat, of your cat. But you can’t help but bristle at the affection Tomura showers down on your feline, and your cat, that damned smug little thing, lapped it all up, purring and fat, content with his new supremacy.

You suck your teeth at the thought and quickly dash your head under the reassuring spray of the shower. When you turn, you catch sight of Tomura’s outline again and a sudden idea pops into your head. Before your failed rescue mission, Tomura had often luxuriated under your touches, almost vibrating some nights, drunk off the pleasure of your stroking hands. Although he’s been detached, maybe...maybe you could bridge that gap, with the right incentive, of course.

“Um, Tomura?” you call, curling your arms about your chest, shivering as you step from the misting of warm water.

He grunts, but that hazy silhouette doesn’t shift, solid and unyielding, despite your soft voice. You bite your lip and step closer, pressing yourself against the slick glass, not ready to give up.

“Can you come here, please?” you try again, infusing honey and light into your tone, hoping it might convince him to turn.

“What is it?” Tomura grumbles, but you notice him shift and you smile at your tiny victory.

“I need you, just for a second, if you...please, Tomura?” you’re trailing your fingers over the frosted dips and imperfections of the shower door and you can tell he’s starting to waver. It’s hard for him to pull away when you whine out his name like that. It’s likely a control thing, but that gasping want, that echo of need is something he’s done his best to encourage, liking that he can make you slip into a gooey, broken, state.

He stands and pads toward the steaming shower and you bite back a grin, pleased he’s maneuvering into place. Once he’s close, you crack the door open and poke your dripping head out, searching for his eyes. Tomura pauses when he catches sight of you, vermillion iries dark, narrowed and suspicious.

“What?” he asks again, his lips curling, lifting that jagged scar and revealing a line of straight, white, teeth.

“Can...can you do me a favor?” you question, dragging your tongue across your lower lip, tugging at the plush skin, silently rejoicing when you catch his eyes lowering, following the motion.

“Depends,” he snaps, his gaze flashing back to yours. You give a soft huff, disappointed that he’s not bending, at least, not yet.

“Will you, um, take a shower with me?”

Tomura snorts, looking over your sopping hair. “Don’t be stupid, you’re practically done.”

“What if I want to clean you off?”

“You calling me gross?”

“No,” you stammer, aghast and unsure if he’s joking. “I just...I want to do this, for you. You’ve been so good to me, I want to do something nice for you, too.”

“Liar,” Tomura taunts, but he does step closer, leaning one arm on the brass frame and peering over your half concealed form.

“I’m not lying. I’d really like to– ”

“Not that. You’re lying about me being good to you. Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true. Should I list it out for you? To prove it. Let’s see, I’ve kidnapped you, fucked you, against your will, until all you can do is drool, begging me to stop, and I’m pretty sure that’s fucking called rape. What else? Oh, I’ve drugged you, tied you up for hours, almost killed your cat, ah, and I’ve been ignoring you, doing my fucking best to make you feel like the ungrateful little slut that you are. That enough? Or should I give you some more?”

You roll your shoulders, agitated. “Tomura, that’s not...I don’t want to talk about that. I want– ”

“You want to pretend again. To put on an act and go about the motions. Wait until I’ve lowered my guard and then you’ll fucking– hey– stop!” Tomura bristles when your wet fingers curl around his dark shirt, yanking him toward you and dangerously close to the wet tiles. His nose wrinkles and he tries to bat you away, hands roughly knocking against your pruned skin.

“Tomura, please. I’m not...I just want to be close to you. Don’t push me away, I’m sorry. I’ve told you that before and I’ll tell you again. You know I didn’t mean– ”

“Didn’t mean to sneak out of a window? You fucking accidentally woke up and thought, good time to make sure he’s out on a meeting, better make the most of this? Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you (Y/N),” Tomura growls, finally succeeding in shaking himself free, glaring down at your damp, wrinkled, brow.

Sighing, you sulk back into the warmth of the shower, pouting your lips and shaking your head, dropping tiny flecks of water across Tomura’s dark shirt and bare feet. “You’re really not going to forgive me, huh? Even if I tell you that I’m sorry, even if I ask for you to let me hold you?

That’s fucking mean, Tomura. You’re such a jerk. A fucking ass. You’re making me feel like some kind of bitch. Yeah, I didn’t ask for you to fucking kidnap me, but what do you want me to do?

It’s not my fault that...that I like you. That I like when you’re nice to me, that I like when you make me feel so...so good, and, well, wanted. You can’t...what am I supposed to do? At this rate, I’ll just hate you. So, if that’s what you’re...what...what you’re want...oh.”

You’d turned your face, while you snapped and berated him, so the feeling of his hard, bare chest, and the sucking pressure of his lips startles you. When your face lifts to his, his long fingers wrap under your chin, forcing you to look at him. His red gaze ensnares you and your breath catches, granting him the opportunity to shut the glass door behind him and press you against the slippery tiles. His free hand shifts to the temperature gauge and he rolls the heat down, hissing at the sting of the shifting water.

“Fine,” he smirks, slotting himself against your curves, letting you feel his rising cock and the sharp planes of his muscles. “I’m here. What is this, so called, nice thing you want to do for me?”

You laugh at his dripping sarcasm and arch into his arms, pleased when he gifts you a quiet shiver. “Turn around,” you smile, your eyes roving over his exposed figure hungrily. Tomura sucks his teeth, but he does as you ask and you reach beside him, slipping the block of bar soap into your palm. You scoot close and dampen the sharp protrusions of his shoulder blades, slicking them with the lukewarm water before pressing the soap over him. Once you get a decent lather built up, you let your fingers dip into his corded sinews, massaging out the rough patches until he’s groaning, a pleased hum radiating from his chest.

“Does that feel ok?” you ask, watching him tremble when you hit a particularly sensitive spot. Tomura responds by shifting back, cracking his back as he bows into your touch. You smile and cup some water over him, sloshing away the bubbles. Once his back is clean and gleaming, you rub yourself against him, kissing his neck.

“What’s your plan?” Tomura sighs, his voice hushed. He cranes his neck and you catch a glimpse of one bright eye, watching you, waiting for your response.

“Plan?” you ask, confused by his meaning.

“Yeah, you trying to butter me up? You think this is gonna change my mind? If you do something nice for me, I’ll have to repay you? Let my guard down?”

You click your tongue and pull him to you, urging him to turn around, so you can see him properly. “Stop it,” you tut, raising the soap again and repeating the soft circles and easy massages, liking that he’s starting to duck his head, a light flush seeping over his chest and nose. “I want to do this for you. Call me stupid, but it makes me happy to see you relaxed. There’s something nice about your face and...and how you look at me. Besides, you haven’t looked at me like that...since...since before that night.”

Tomura glances away at the reminder, breaking the hard stare he’d fixed you with, but he takes a shallow step toward you, letting the tips of your nipples glide over his slippery pectorals. You gasp at the sensation, enjoying the sweet tightening that races along your areola, puckering the buds into stiff peaks.

“Well? Don’t leave the job half finished. Keep going,” Tomura rasps, his hands cupping your lifted wrist and moving the soap over his sternum, before passing it along his abdomen. Nodding, you gulp and work your way down until you have to kneel, your knees digging into the water logged floor. Your head lines up with his half hardened cock and you eye the velvety flesh ravenously. You chance a peek up at him, but he’s still refusing to meet your eyes, his head turned, scowling darkly at the wet tiles.

“Tomura,” you begin, releasing the bar of soap, letting the rushing water snag it, carrying it toward the pull of the drain. “Why don’t you let me take care of this for you?”

Above you, his jaw sets and you can hear him grinding his teeth, trying to shrug off that deepening red blush. You’re not quite sure why he’s so affected by this, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Your fingers slide up his thighs, nails gently scraping and pressing as you near the apex of his hips, watching him rise under temptation of your proximity. Once you’re grazing along his dark curls, he unconsciously thrusts toward you, a tiny droplet of precum budding out of his slit, gleaming in the light of the bathroom.

“Do you want me to touch you?” you ask, your heart thumping wildly, unsure where this sudden urge, this need, to have him supplicate himself for you, is coming from. You want him to ask, no, you want him to moan for you as he blushes and pants. Oh, yes. That would look so good on him. “I can help,” you continue, careful to keep your eyes down, not wanting to give yourself away. “It looks...it looks like you need me to take care of you. Just ask me, Tomura. Ask me to..to…”

Tomura’s hand on the back of your head makes you lose your train of thought and you sputter into silence, your eyes lifting to his, waiting. He glares down at you, imperious and chilling. His nostrils flare when you breathe across his leaking tip and his hips shift again, thumping his heavy cock head against your parted lips.

“Suck,” he commands and immediately, you do your utmost to take him all in, your jaw aching at the familiar weight of him. Tomura groans at the suction and his eyes finally slip closed. You hollow your cheeks and curl your tongue, racing the wet appendage over his thick veins, feeling him pulse and swell. He’s salty and so, so deliciously earthy. Your mind clouds over and all thoughts of making him bend to you fly out the window, content in the happy pleasure of making him spill down your waiting throat.

******

Later, when you’re both dry and stretched out on his tattered mattress, he turns to you, pressing his face into your arms, sighing happily when you stroke a hand down his hair. It’s been a while, since he’s come to you like this, all contented nuzzles and heavy exhales. Even before your misguided escape, he would rather have you cling to him, than he to you. No, this is a different kind of touch. You curl around him and he begins to slacken in your hold, drifting into the welcoming embrace of sleep.

As the night passes around you, you revisit those musings you’d had in the shower, when he was doing his best to ignore you as you gently needled him, wanting to hear him ask you for your attention. You’d never thought much on domination, how could you? Half of the time, you were bound or gagged, especially in the early days of your capture. Tomura had always been unrelenting in his control and you hadn’t done much to question his iron backed rule, at least, not until tonight.

But once you noticed that tight lipped expression and that delightful blush he’d given you? Oh, you wanted something very different from him then. Imagine, you think, a mischievous smirk lifting your lips, just imagine him, gasping and whining, just for you. He’d look so nice, so handsome, like that.

You’ll have to be cautious and you’ll need to go slow, but fuck, you want to see him beg. Tonight was a good step. You’d slipped back into his good graces and you’d shown that he can trust himself, and you, to let him show you a gentler, more vulnerable side of himself. Now, let’s see if you can get something different from this arrangement. Besides, you reason, if you’re stuck here, you might as well have a little bit of fun.

******

He’s got you pinned down, his powerful thighs digging into your spread hips, slapping his meaty balls against the wet curve of your ass. His fingers are hovering over your clit, but he’s careful not to touch. He isn’t wanting you to cum, not yet. You can’t breathe when he takes you like this and his lips are close to the hollow of your throat, rising and lowering in time with his jagged thrusts.

“You’re too quiet tonight,” Tomura rumbles, his tongue dipping out to swipe up some droplets of sweat that have slipped down your chin. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me this is all you can take? I’ve seen you give me more. That’s it, be a good little slut, be my good girl, let me hear you.”

His thumb slithers to your pulsing bud, slipping under the swollen hood and encouraging that pulpy flesh to throb out, hot and wanting. You gasp and he lifts his head, pressing a rough kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Almost,” he taunts, positioning his index finger above his thumb, at the top of your clit, trapping it in his hold. The sharp, painfully cloying sensation he sparks makes you arch and his cock slips deeper, the head tapping against that final barrier of your cervix. You hiss at the distant echo of pain and Tomura sighs above you, surging his hips forward and grinding down, scraping his pelvis against yours, watching you tremble around him.

“You take me so fucking well, (Y/N). Such a pretty little pussy, all wet and open, so flushed and all mine.”

When he tucks back, gliding his length from your weeping cunt, you find your voice and you shiver out a question, hoping, praying, he’ll entertain the idea. “T-Tomura, I...I want to ride you.”

His brow furrows and he gives you a bewildered look, red eyes flashing over your distant, blissed out, expression. “Huh?”

“I said, I want to r-ride you. I want you on your back so I can...ohh...fuck,” your demand shakes to a halt as he gives you a harsh cant, his cock swelling as your walls flutter around him.

“What’s wrong with this?” he scoffs, lifting his rubbing fingers and leaving your clit abandoned and aching. You keen at the loss, hips blindly rising, hoping you’ll catch him before he’s too far away.

“Damn it,” you sulk, missing your target and tilting your chin, meeting his hazy eyes and wrinkling your nose. “There’s nothing wrong with this, I just want you deeper. Fucking you...ah– fucking you, when you’re on your back, will let me take more of you. Come on, just this once? If you don’t like it, I– ”

In the blink of an eye, Tomura wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, slinking under your quivering legs and stretching himself on the sheets. Your fingers scrabble for balance, accidentally scratching down his stomach. He growls at the sudden, trickling, pain but he’s impatient for you to move, so he responds to your unintended hurt by thrusting up, into your heat, leaking some of your copious arousal onto his thighs.

“This doesn’t feel any different,” he grouses, his eyes glaring up at you before they dodge away, scowling out at his room, already frustrated that he’s given into your request, especially since it’s not looking like he’ll be getting much out of it.

“Give me a second,” you complain, finally steadying yourself and bracing your knees on the soft mattress. Once you’ve gotten your barings, you rise up, savoring the sting of his thick cock as it’s lifted from you. You roll your hips when you lower yourself and Tomura grunts, minutely curving his back, his lips curling into a pleased grimace. “How’s that?” you ask, preparing to repeat the motion, keeping your legs close and your pussy clenched, exulting in his choked moans.

“It...it’s ok,” Tomura concedes, a lovely blush beginning to seep over his face. His fingers tremble when they settle on your working hips, urging you to pick up your pace, but you ignore his silent request, circling yourself as you bottom him out, gently teasing him.

“Awe,” you pout, trailing your hands to him, cupping at his jaw and turning him toward you. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quietly murmurs a few curses, trying to pull his chin from your warm digits. “Just ok?” you continue, letting your legs spread, rutting him into you, squeezing your sopping channel around his length. “I’m hurt. I figured you’d like this. Don’t I feel good? You feel amazing, so fucking hard and oh– Did you like that? Mmm, that felt nice. Tell me what it feels like for you, Tomura. I wanna know.”

He dips his head back, unable to resist giving you a few sharp thrusts, his hips taking on a mind of their own as he begins to pulse inside you. That blush has bled down his neck and onto his broad chest, sprinkling his skin with a rosy hue. You drag your nails over the redness and he sucks in an unsteady breath, his eyes popping open and fixing you with a dazed stare.

“Come on,” you taunt, bringing your knees back to the sides of his hips and lifting, rising, until his tip is beginning to slip from your quivering core. He hums at the feeling and the scar on his lip quirks as he gulps down a snarl. “I know, I’ll make a deal with you. Tell me how it feels for you and I’ll give you what you want,” you bargain, jutting your hips back and forth, teasing his swollen cock head until he’s digging bruises into your plush thighs.

“What...what are you…doing...” Tomura gasps, his head lifting as he attempts to regain some control, his hands gripping you, trying to force you back to him. You click your tongue and lean away, out of his reach. “Don’t be like that. I just want to hear what you think. How can I possibly know if this feels good, if it makes you happy, if you don’t tell me?”

Tomura’s legs curl under you and his head shakes, white hair trailing along his neck, sticking to his damp skin. “I– it...it feels ok, I told you that.”

“Daw, but that’s vague,” you sulk, although you do sink down his straining cock, not quite all the way to his base, but low enough to reward him. Tomura sputters out a hiss when you do and he flops back to the bed, shaking. “Come on Tomura, give me a little more? Please?” you ask, fingers trailing along his stomach, drawing patterns into his slopes and grooves.

“It feels...warm and it’s wet, so fucking wet, but...it...it hurts...I want more. Give me more. You said you’d take me deeper, not...not...ah– yes...yes…” He’s rasping as you engulf him to his hilt. You use your hands to brace yourself, picking up that cant, spearing him into you and keening when he hits something soft at the front of your pussy. Tomura’s eyes gleam when he notices your trembling and he lifts his legs, planting his feet under you and slamming himself into your undulating cunt.

Your fingers wander to your clit and you start to roll those heady circles against yourself, oscillating waves of pleasure from your slippery bud. Tomura lets out a long sigh and he shivers as you break, edging yourself along that sharp ledge and falling into the mind numbing ecstasy that waits. As you drip and clench around him, Tomura gives out a weak shout and releases into you, thick bursts of his cum pulsing against your overstimulated and aching walls.

You fall against him and he clings to you, kissing sloppily at your damp brow. After the heat of your coupling, your skin quickly begins to cool and you burrow into his warmth, careful to keep him tucked inside you, enjoying the softening of his length and the oozing slop that’s leaking from your cunt and onto the sheets.

“What was that?” Tomura asks, his voice distant, awed.

“What?” you repeat innocently, pleased that these little pushes you’re giving him are working. You like seeing him disheveled and desperate and you want to see more.

******

It’s been easier between the two of you, since you’d worked your way back into his trust, but Tomura, being Tomura, still has his darker moments.

He hasn’t permitted you to leave his room, still bringing you meals and keeping you close, binding you, or locking you in, when he can’t. But the nights are very different. He’s gentle with you again and he likes to duck into your arms, his white head pillowed against your breast. For your part, you’ve done your best to foster those urges, welcoming him and whispering soft words of praise over his bowed head. It’s a quiet lull and you like the shaking kisses he gives you, pleased with your acceptance.

One evening, however, he comes to you in a blind rage.

Someone’s done something to shake him, to work him into this state, molding him into a walking, talking, callous being of anger and vitriol, but he won’t give you any names, or any particular reason for the sudden wrath. Instead, he opts to shove you down and spread you open, barely slipping his pants over his hips as he tugs his engorged, leaking, cock from the elastic band of his boxers. You’re not prepared for his first thrust and he growls in frustration as he sticks to you, lingering outside of your heat, unable to press forward.

“Fuck,” he snarls, slicking his tongue over one thumb and lowering it to your clit, frantically rubbing at you, encouraging you to bead some of that glimmering arousal over your lower lips.

“Tomura...Tomura...wait...I’m...ouch,” you whine, unable to hold still, shrinking from his aggression. “You can’t just shove your dick in me...I’ve gotta– ”

“Shut up,” Tomura grunts, maintaining that rough pressure, pinching at your half risen clit, pulling the hood away and mashing the pad of his thumb over the tiny bud. “I just want to...damn it…why won’t you– This isn’t fucking fair. I thought...I thought you were always ready for me, now? Why bother with you if you can’t give me what I want? Fucking slut, come on. I know you want me. Why won’t you– hey!”

Grateful that he’s neglected to tie you down today, you kick at him, scrabbling away from his belligerent touches. Tomura, displeased, snatches your ankle and tumbles you over, cracking his hand against your newly presented ass, startling a strangled gasp from your lips.

“Stop that,” he scolds, yanking you back and pressing you down, lifting your posterior and running a warm palm down the fleshy curve, soaking in the heat he’s struck from your skin. “I’m going to fuck you, so you might as well get used to that idea. Now, keep still (Y/N).”

“And I told you to hang on,” you grumble, twisting your head around to glower up at him. Shockingly, he pauses, his eyes narrowing as he leans back, lowering his hand to his throbbing length, tugging at himself, relieving some of the pressure that he’s worked up, waiting.

“Just...what happened? Can’t you at least talk to me, before you try to fuck me inside out? What– ”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Tomura frowns, already pulling you back to him, prepared to line up with your unprepared cunt and shove his way inside you, ready or not.

“No, wait. But what if– ”

“But what if?” Tomura mimics, unamused with your continued struggles. “My head hurts and I want to feel you. So, stop arguing with me, stop being such a–”

“If you finish that sentence I swear to fucking God, Tomura, I’ll– ”

“What? You’ll what? What are you gonna do? Huh?”

“Ugh, stop being such an ass, Tomura. It’s not like I pissed you off. How would you like it if I did this shit to you?”

“If you fucked me until I couldn’t think anymore? I’d say thank you and not be so– ”

“So let me do that,” you snap, wriggling out of his grip and flipping yourself around, fingers already reaching for his half clothed thighs and pulling yourself up to him. Tomura freezes underneath your touch and his eyes are wide, whisking over your upturned face.

“You’ve got this, mmm, backwards,” he grouses, unable to resist bucking into you when one of your palms slips over his dripping cock.

“Do I?” you smile, kissing along his jaw, pausing to suck at his earlobe. He gasps at the sensation and his head butts into you, easing you off of that sensitive skin. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise,” you coo.

He’s quiet for a time and the only sounds you can hear are the wet squelches of your hand, gliding up and down his succulent cock, squeezing when you reach the tip and working some of that dribbling precum over your fingers. You’re about to posit another question when you hear him, breathy and low, rumbling out his answer to your soft seduction.

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Oh, fuck yes. You bite back your smile and pull yourself from his neck, meeting his eyes and reveling in that sweet blush he’s gifting you. Your hand keeps up a delicious friction, mollifying his ragged needs, and you study his face, debating your next move. He looks frustrated, but there’s something else hiding behind those vermillion eyes, something that’s curious, avid.

“Let’s see,” you ponder, already feeling intoxicated off of this new sensation, this burgeoning power he’s bestowing you. “Since you were, oh, so impatient earlier, how about you show me just how wet you want me to be?”

Tomura snorts, rolling his eyes. “You could have just said you wanted me to eat you out.”

“Oh? I’m sorry, was my request unclear about that?” you smart, lifting your fingers away from his cock, pausing to wipe his slick lubrication down his pants. Tomura sucks his teeth at that, but lets the impudence slide. “Well?” you question, laying back and cocking your head at him, spreading your legs, granting him a swift peek at your flushing pussy. “You gonna make me wait all day? Oh, and take your pants off. It’s not fair you always get to keep all the layers on.”

“Why the fuck am I letting you do this, again?” Tomura growls, slipping his long legs out of his stained jeans and tossing them on the floor. His shirt follows and, despite his grumbling, he quickly slots himself between your spread thighs, his nose already dipped and sniffing loudly, inhaling the heady aroma of you dampening curls.

His fingers thread to your dewy folds and he splits your lips apart, gathering some of the gossamer webs along his fingertips. You give him a pleased hum and he sinks his index finger into you, head lifting so he can watch you arch against the intrusion. “Hey, (Y/N),” he smirks, adding a second finger and v-ing the two, stretching you open, “I asked you a question.”

“Because you wanna see what I’ve got planned for you,” you gasp out, lifting yourself onto your elbows, wanting to observe his teasing explorations.

“Do I? What makes you think that?”

“You can’t help yourself. Besides, I think you like pleasing me. You like when I tell you nice things or when I say you’re doing a good job.”

“Hmph,” Tomura jeers, shaking his head at your assessment, but he doesn’t comment further, content to silently watch as your cunt swallows his fingers. Your arousal soon coats the digits and begins to drip down his palm and onto his wrist. He’s just about to lean forward, to press those rough lips against you when you tut at him.

“Uh-uh,” you scold, lowering one knee and trapping his hand between your thighs, barring him from you. Tomura flashes a displeased expression your way, but humors you, stilling his movement. “Gotta ask,” you inform him, arching one delicate brow at his redding cheeks.

“Ask? I thought you said you wanted me to make you wet?” Tomura sneers, his red eyes hardening, like flecked rubies in the darkness of his room.

“Sure did. So, do you think you’ve done a good enough job? Or are you wanting to do more?”

Tomura’s jaw flops open and he fixes you with a sour look. “What?”

“It’s not that difficult, Tomura. I want to know if this is the best you can do?”

“Of course it’s not. It’s– ”

“Well then,” you interrupt, lifting your knee again and arching yourself toward him. “Show me. Ask me if you can eat me out.”

“I’m not– I–” His eyes have drifted from yours and that blush is deepening, seeping over his skin, staining him with his flustered want. Oh, this is working too well, you think, tilting your head at his abashed grumbling.

“Come on, handsome,” you call, trailing your foot along his lean side, watching him quake and gasp. “Do it for me? Just this once?”

Tomura glances back up at you and he clicks his teeth together, trying to muster his wavering desires. “C-can I eat you out?”

“Oh, baby. That was so fucking good, thank you. Go on, you earned it.”

In seconds, Tomura’s beet red face is buried between your thighs. His lips latch onto your clit and he starts to suckle at the budding flesh, his saliva leaching from his lips. The warmth of him makes you shiver and your fingers sink into his silvery hair, threading along the strands and scritching at his scalp. His caresses are sloppy and he hunches himself closer, lapping and slurping at you, groaning when you flutter around his imbedded fingers.

As you’re indulging yourself, whispering soft encouragement over his bowed head, you notice one of his hands drifting toward his straining cock, his fingers twitching as they grasp at the bulbous head, eager to work out some of that simmering pressure. “Stop that!” you snap, startling him, making him lose his grip on you.

You curl your digits into his hair, yanking him up, straining his neck as you demand his full attention. His eyes are narrowed and gleaming, ire written all over his slicked face.

“What the f-fuck?” he growls, tongue lapping at the residual threads of your arousal, trying to work steel into his voice.

“I said you could eat me out, not that you could touch yourself,” you retort, tugging at his hair until he’s moaning, his hips unconsciously humping against the bed. “Oh, you like that? Well that doesn’t work at all. Get on your knees.”

“What? I thought that– ”

“Get on your fucking knees, Tomura.”

“Stop telling me what to do you fucking– ah– God.” Your fingers release his hair and before he can stumble out another snarl you’re shoving him back, your hand wrapping around his cock, squeezing and pressing quick jerks over him.

You let him fall to his back and you loom over him, teeth latching onto his scarred neck, biting and pulling, coaxing a low whine from his throat. Your hand slows and he keeps trying to rut into your palm, his legs trembling as he flounders against the sheets. “You wanna cum? Hmm, do you? You want me to finish you off? Talk to me, Tomura.”

He’s overwrought under your ministrations, his head lowered and his brow furrowed. His eyes keep opening and closing, too disjointed to focus on anything but your touch. He tries to gulp something out, but it’s lost in a smothered groan seconds later. He looks fucking cute, you think, watching him, rutting your hips over his raised knee. Drool starts to fleck out of his mouth and his back bows and arches. He’s practically unhinged, but it’s not enough. He’d never let you get away with not answering a question, so why should he get special treatment?

Your hand slows and he pouts, a long groan leaching from between his clenched teeth. “I asked you a question,” you mime, licking along his cheek, pulling some of that extra saliva he’d frothed out into your waiting mouth. “Do you want me to finish you off? Or should I leave you like this?”

“P-plea...finish me off,” he whispers, his voice rasping.

“Ooh, was that what I think it was? Baby, did you almost say please? I’d love that so much. Oh fuck, that makes me want to take care of you.” You kiss at his temple and he quakes, his hips rising, trying to force your palm back into that rhythm.

“I didn’t...I didn’t mean to...just fucking…(Y/N)...” Tomura lets out a reedy whine when you lift your hand from him, letting his cock spring from your grasp, the tip curving toward his stomach, swollen and red.

“Oh no, you didn’t mean to? That’s not nice, no that’s not fucking nice at all. Especially after I just told you how much I liked that idea.” you lift your sticky fingers to your lips and lick up the last bits of his precum, humming contentedly and lifting your eyes to his. He’s watching you, his eyes hooded and dark. His breaths are coming in low heaves and he’s gritting his teeth, but he hasn’t reached for himself. No, there is a wild look in his eyes and you want to see if you can make it worse.

“Say please and I’ll touch you,” you tell him, your voice lulling, tempting.

He looks away from you and he starts to shake his head, but then you hear him, whisper thin, broken, and oh, so fucking needy, so exquisite. “Please, I-I wanna cum. Touch me, please (Y/N).”

You take him back into your hands, your fingers gentle as they wrap around that velvet skin, careful to build him back up slowly. You rise up on your knees and tilt his chin up, wanting to feel his lips on yours. Tomura sucks in a ragged breath when you tap soft caress to him, his body surging forward, demanding more. You indulge him, letting him slip his rough tongue into your mouth, pressing and dipping until he’s inebriated off the sheer closeness of you. When you pull away he lets out a huff and you stroke a hand down his flushed face.

“You’re doing so well baby. Do you like it?”

“Y-yes, can...can you g-go faster?” he stammers, his mouth falling open and head tipping back when you acquiesce, picking up speed. He’s starting to sway, his back hunkering forward and backwards, knees spreading, drifting closer and closer to his release. Your thumb traces over his slit and you pull a glistening strand of precum from him, clinging and wet as it dangles across the short distance you’ve created.

“God, handsome. You’re doing such a good job, I’m so fucking proud of you. I know it’s not easy, but you’re perfect. How does it feel, love? Are you gonna cum for me?”

He moans at your declarations, unable to even gasp the words out, leaning forward and burying his face in your shoulder. His brow is jagged against your smooth skin, but you let him rub himself against you, feeling the heat of his blush and the damp stick of his lips as he tries to catch his breath.

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll take care of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Are you ready to cum for me?”

He nods, his head thumping on your neck, another thin strip of drool escaping his open mouth. It trickles down your breast, cooling and prickling your flesh as it passes. You kiss at his lowered brow and he sighs, muttering something that’s too distant for you to hear.

“Hmm, love? What was that? I can’t hear you,” you tell him, tightening the grip on his slippery cock, feeling those tell-tale flutterings that proceed his release. He’s scalding under your palm and he keeps trying to scoot closer, his hands shaking beside his hips, one of them reaching for you and digging into your side.

“I-I said...fuck...let me cum, mom...m-mommy, please,” the last two words leave him on a yelp and he pulses in your hand, spurting thick cables of his cum across your lap and his.

In the lull that follows, Tomura drags you against him, not caring that he’s smearing himself all over you and his chest. He pulls you down and wraps his long arms around you, caging you to him as he regains his breathing. You ignore the wet sticking that he’s rubbing into your lower half and you pull yourself higher, shifting until you can see his face. He’s still flushed and his eyes are clouded, but he lets you kiss at the side of his face.

A silence stretches over the two of you and you’re unsure what to say.

You’d liked pushing him and you’d liked how he bent to your demands, but that last comment, that final utterance he’d grunted into your shoulder as he worked himself into a frenzy, well, you’re not sure how you felt about that. Sure, it had made your pussy clench and you’re fairly certain it would only take a quick tweak of your fingers to shatter that burning ache within you, but what exactly have you awakened? Would he even acknowledge it, later after he’s escaped this haze that he’s slipped into? Would he...would he let you do that to him again?

His drying cum is making your skin pull and you try to shift from his hold, but Tomura keeps clutching you, refusing to budge.

“I- I just want to clean myself. Can I go to the bathroom? I’ll be– ”

“Don’t go, not yet,” Tomura replies, his tone gravel and forgotten ash. His arms tighten and you chance a quick glance at his turned face, meeting his eyes and absolutely melting.

His expression is slack and his eyes are wide, with a childlike wonderment, and when you look at him he smiles. “Stay with me?” he asks and you wrap yourself around him, feeling for that familiar beat of his heart as it pulses, steady and strong, under your shaking fingers.

******

A few days later, Tomura tells you to put on a new, grey, robe and leads you down one of the long walkways, toward one of the closed rooms that sits at the back of the hideout. He opens the door and hot steam pours from the tiled space, bushing against your face and tickling your nose. Inside sits a porcelain, square, ofuro bath. Your eyes lift to his, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s wholly focused on tugging you inside, sliding the door shut and sealing you both in the fresh condensation.

“Leave your robe on that table by the door,” he tells you, already stripping off his dark shirt and lowering his four fingered grip to his belt, clattering the metal under his nails. You shift to obey, carefully folding the soft fabric and waiting for him, shivering against the cool tiles.

Tomura turns to you once he’s finished and regards you silently, his eyes lingering over your face. “Come on,” he rasps, gesturing his head toward the bath. He lets you step in first and once you’ve sunk into the water he wedges himself behind you, hissing against the warmth. Tentatively, you lean your back to his chest and Tomura shifts you over him, slotting his legs alongside your hips. Once you’re both comfortable, you slide your feet to the end of the tub, resting your head close to Tomura’s collarbone, quietly luxuriating in the gentle warmth.

“So, um, I didn’t even know this room was here. Not that I know a lot about any of the rooms, so I guess that’s a stupid point. Anyway, why did you wanna do this? I mean...I like this, I’m just confused,” you correct, tilting your head up to look at his face. His eyes are closed and his lip is set into a light curve, smirking at your question.

“Think of it as my way of getting you back for the other night, in the shower,” he rumbles, his voice deep as it reverberates around your ears.

“Really?” you laugh, trailing your hand over the water, watching the ripples spread and fade.

“Yeah, haven’t seen you this off balance in weeks,” Tomura teases, resting his chin over your head.

“Pfft,” you scoff, brushing a bit of water over his chest, “you wish.”

“I do,” he sighs, bringing his arm down over you, quieting your playful splashes. “I figured you’d like this and you’ve shown me that it’s nice to do things for the people you love.” The mention of the word love makes your heart miss a beat and you try to peek up at his face again, but his chin holds you still. It’s not the first time he’s said it to you. No, he’s said it plenty of times before and in plenty of ways. Sometimes it was a threat, other times it was a calculation, something that was supposed to make you pause, make you second guess yourself, letting a strange, nagging guilt prick along the back of your mind.

But, there’s something different about this utterance of the endearment.

It’s quiet and it’s spoken with no layering of underlying motives. No, he said it like he...like he meant it, perhaps for the first time. You press back against his slick pectorals and he hums at the weight of you, pleased by your response to his declaration. The water laps at your sides and you snach his arms, wrapping them around you, stroking delicate designs over his wet skin.

******

“I don’t– I don’t think that’s it,” you pant, your fingers slick. They’re too slippery, really. You can’t get a good grip on him and you keep flicking your eyes up to his, positive he’s gonna to buck you off of him any second.

He’s quiet, his lips set into a white line, but that blush of his, oh, that will never not look nice. When you fumble again he shifts, arching and impatient, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. Why would he?

It was his idea after all.

He’d murmured the request when the water cooled about the two of you. But your chill was forgotten as soon as he rasped the words against your ear, tickling your sensitive skin. When you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, his cock began to swell behind you, prodding and curious.

As you entered his dark bedroom, he didn’t even give you a moment to breathe, lifting you to him, lips biting, sucking, licking you senseless. Once your knees bumped the mattress he urged you to sit, leaving your side to fish something out of a nearby drawer. He tapped the bottle down on the lone side table, nudging it expectantly and fixing you with a grinning leer.

You’ve never done anything like this, never thought about it, never...no...no, that’s a lie. You have thought about it before and you’ve heard about it, too. I-It was supposed to feel good, right?

Now, if you could only do this correctly.

You ball your hand into a fist and bite your lip, take a steadying breath and give him another lidded glance, watching him from the curtain of your eyelashes. “Ready?” you ask, rubbing your thumb and index finger together, trying to warm up the glossy lube.

Tomura doesn’t grace you with a verbal affirmation, instead he simply nods his head, cascading his white hair over his forehead. Alright, you think, scooting closer and lowering one finger to him, reaching for his cock with your opposite hand. You grip him firmly, coiling your digits and admiring the dribble of precum that greets your pump. Tomura lets out a low exhale and arches again, those fervid eyes falling behind his eyelids.

While you’re pulling and squeezing him, your trembling finger traces a circle around his puckered asshole, teasing at the muscle, giving him time to adjust. Once you’ve dampened him to your satisfaction, you dip into that warmth and gasp, your other hand faltering, accidentally loosening your hold on his straining length.

You peek up at him, but his head has fallen back and his broad chest is heaving. Again, he’s not protesting, or demanding that you stop, so you keep going. That first ring of muscle is tight, pinching your intruding digit when you try to sink further. As you wait for him to acclimate to the foreign sensation, you focus on his cock, bending your head over him and giving him a long suck. Your tongue swirls around his tip and you lap at the bubbling, salty, precum that floods your mouth. Again, Tomura stretches and shoves his hips forward, encouraging you, wordlessly telling you to keep going.

His dick slides from your lips with a wet pop and your hand makes up for the loss, jerking moans from his open lips. You twist your opposite wrist and drive your finger in, plunging the last knuckle past that quivering ring. Flexing the digit, you begin to feel around for a bulge, the one that he asked you to stimulate for him.

He said he wanted to know how it felt and, best of all, he wanted you to push him until he begged you to stop.

It’s hot and sleek inside him and you’re worried that you might miss it. After all, it’s not like...wait...what...is that? There’s something protruding and it feels both hard and soft under your finger pad. Unsure, you stroke over it again and Tomura does something wonderful in response.

When you apply the slightest whisper of pressure his legs curl up, bracing his feet against the sheets and he lets out the breathiest whine. His fingers scrabble beside him, slapping and gripping at the bedding until you’re sure he’s about to decay the whole fucking thing and leave you both blinking on the dusty floor.

“D-did– that feel good?” you query, amazed at the clenching his body is doing. Tomura nods his head, white hair splayed across the mattress and you pause, waiting for him to gather himself back together.

“Again,” he finally grunts, craning his neck to give you a staggered glare, his eyes cloudy.

Licking your lips, you give the gland another press and Tomura practically writhes off the bed. He’s groaning and gasping, choking out your name as he works himself closer. His cock pulsates in your hand and a line of milky white cum spurts out. It’s not enough to be a true release, but it makes your mouth go dry.

Tomura sits up and his eyes immediately ensnare yours, blazing as he looks up at you. “Fucking keep going, don’t stop,” he barks, his voice splintered, hoarse. Keeping your finger close to the swell of his prostate, you shake your head at him. Tomura snarls at your impudence, but when you start to withdraw your finger he quiets, his teeth grinding behind his scowling face.

“Don’t be an ass,” you challenge, fingers scooping up some of his leaked cum, using it to ease your renewed motions. Tomura buckles at that and his head drops to his chest, shaking out a few unsteady breaths. “If you want me to keep touching you like this, you better ask me nicely.” To emphasize your point, you lightly scrape your nail over that sensitive spot inside him, making him shudder and sigh.

“Keep going, please,” he spits out. It’s dripping with more false supplication than true politeness, but you’ll take it. Since he reacted so well to that first press, you can’t help but wonder what he’ll do when you circle some modulated pressure around him. Oh, and it’s a perfect reaction. As soon as you complete that first rotation he’s a gooey mess, his bowed head shaking and nodding as he scrapes out your name.

“Oh handsome,” you sigh, watching as another burst of precum trickles from his slit, coating your hand in a tacky sheen of pearl colored liquid. “You look so good. Being such a good boy and taking me like this. Does it feel good? Do you like it? Talk to me.”

Tomura whimpers when you repeat the oscillation, his voice slipping into a giddy edge, cracking and rising. “Fuck yes. It– it feels– oh fuck– again, again. Do it again. I-I mean...please. Ohhh God, (Y/N)!”

He’s laughing now, his throat snagging as his moans hit a high pitched garble. “Ah-haha— I know, you liked it when I called you mommy. I saw your fucking face. It looked so pretty. Want me to say it again? Ah– oh, oh. I’ll do it. I’ll do it if you keep– hahaaa— fuck, fuck, fuck– I’ll– m-mommy. Oh, fucking God. Mommy don’t stop! Come here, fucking come here. I don’t care if you’re not rubbing my dick. Come here mommy and let me show you how much I fucking waaant you.”

His hands paw at you and he drags you up, lifting you with a lithe strength that you’ve never seen. Your finger, too slick to withstand the pull, slips from him and he groans at the loss. “I didn’t mean–” you begin, but he silences you with a fevered kiss, his teeth clinking against yours. He drowns out your protestations and swiftly straddles you over him, pressing you down and spearing you onto his messy cock.

Once he bottoms out, the tip of him pulsing deliciously as he indulges himself in your wet heat, he leans back and gives you a wild grin, his eyes bright. “Fuck, yes. Ride me mommy. Let me show you what a good boy I am.”

notes: (￣▽￣*)ゞ

tags: @libiraki (i’m tagging you cuz imma make you into a tomura fucker if it’s the last thing i do) @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY UPDATE!

PART FIVE

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: flirting, alcohol, mentions of smoking Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: This chapter is so cute to me. Pajama party anyone? As always, thanks to the actual best editor alive today, @lantern-inthenight

MASTER POST

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed

@bigblack-catattack @myownparadise96 @lara-gvf @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies

It was undeniable that winter was on its way. The weekend brought predictions for temps in the lower 40’s and, even in the warmth of the apartment, you felt perpetually chilled.

Kate had messaged you late on Friday asking if you wanted to get coffee Saturday morning, and you had excitedly agreed to meet her at the local cafe called The Daily Grind (which, admittedly, you chose because of the cute name).

She had seen you bundled up like a burrito in two sweatshirts and a long-sleeved tee underneath and laughed, but you explained to her how you had never really been in temps this cold before.

Your fingers were wrapped as tight as they could go around your mocha as you watched her sip her black coffee, her maroon-painted lips leaving a mark on the white mug.

“When we’re done here, would you want to go with me to a thrift store? My mom sent some money for me to buy warmer clothes when she saw the weather for this area,” you said with an excited tone. “She’s afraid I’m going to get pneumonia.”

She hummed in an interested tone. “That sounds like fun. Which one do you wanna check out first?”

“You’ve been around here longer, so I’ll let you pick.”

“The one on Maple is the one where all the rich sorority girls go, so I bet you’d find some good stuff there,” she informed, tapping her nails against the ceramic.

You beamed a smile, relishing in the sunny feeling that only spending time with other girls gave you. “You wanna drive or me?”

+++

“Do you think if I buy a pair of jeans a size too big I could get away with wearing leggings under them?” you asked, flicking through the hangers. “I feel like the wind here cuts right through my denim.”

“Maybe two sizes bigger so you can wear sweatpants.” You knew she was teasing you by her playful tone, but that was actually kind of brilliant, you thought. “You should try this one.”

You had to get onto your tippy toes to see her over the long rack. She was holding up a soft-looking sweater, multicolored horizontal stripes running across the fabric. The color pattern reminded you of Twiggy from the ’60s.

“It’s cute,” you agreed, taking it as she handed it to you. By the time you were ready for a fitting room, you had a pile of things and the employee on duty looked not very excited to have to put them back when you were done, but luckily she wouldn’t have to. Pretty much everything fit perfectly.

You were shocked to see the total - where you were from, all of that would have been well over $60, even second hand, but you ended up forking over a measly $35, and you figured most of that total was from the nearly new jacket you had found.

As she was driving you back to the coffee shop, you exclaimed giddily, “I’m so excited to have warm clothes. Now Josh can finally have his sweatshirts back.”

She looked over at you surprisedly. “That’s Josh’s?”

“Yeah, he gave me three and I’ve been alternating between them.” You reached forward to turn her radio up a notch, Janet Jackson’s “All For You” perking your ears.

“Are you sure he wants them back?” she asked, giving you a coy smile that you didn’t understand.

You adopted a puzzled look. If she was alluding to something, it was lost on you. “Why wouldn’t he? They’re still perfectly fine - I was even careful not to get my perfume on them.”

Now stopped at a red light, she turned to give you a squinty look until she seemed to realize you were serious. “Nevermind,” she relented, smirking forward at the road.

When you got back home, Josh was gone. You shot him a message inquiring as to his whereabouts and started snipping the tags off of your new clothes with a pair of pruning shears. You were exponentially grateful for the fact that the washing machine in your building had been repaired - and with a shocking amount of haste too.

The smell of the laundry room down the hall was pleasant. It reminded you of the times when your mom would wash all the towels and blankets in the house, and that was a job that either required a laundromat, or an entire day switching loads.

At the end of your shopping day, you made out with three new sweaters, two pairs of thicker jeans, a new coat, a winter hat, and an actual pajama set, which would be infinitely warmer than the shorts and tank top you’d moved in with.

You cheerily popped your new clothes into the washer, along with a tide pod, some of your bras and underwear, and closed the lid.

Around 1 pm, Josh still wasn’t back and hadn’t replied, so you decided it was a perfect time to work on some self-care. The yoga mat you had packed had yet to see the light of day in Michigan, so you dug it out, unrolled it in your room, changed into some easy clothing, and pulled up a beginner’s tutorial on your phone. By the thirty-minute mark, you were sweating and tired, but the stretch in your muscles was oddly pleasant on top of the discomfort, so you pushed yourself to keep going until the video was done. The cute blonde running the tutorial suggested you take some time in your cool down to look inward, as she thought that was a big part of yoga. So, you laid there on the mat, staring up at your ceiling for a good, long while, just taking time to reflect and enjoying it.

Your room, and the whole apartment really, had become home so quickly. You hadn’t ever had the opportunity to test the theory before, but you had always imagined that leaving home would make you feel out of place.

But you didn’t.

Sure, you missed home in the way that any human that came from a loving and supporting family would, but you were expecting to ache for it. You had taken a long time in your backyard and in your favorite spot back home, just so you could have a final fix, but all that was to you now was a fond memory.

After a few moments of being alone with your thoughts, you were going to get up and take a shower, but you had decided to postpone it. While you were staring up at the ceiling, you realized that there was a lot of unused space that the sun hit toward the top of the room. Wasted sun was a felony in your book. You spent about an hour pulling down your curtain rod, removing the fabric, and replacing it with hanging pots of all sizes and lengths.

Your string of hearts, your pearls, your golden pothos - the thought of them being the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes in the morning was one that made you feel sentimental. You’d just have to be careful with watering.

Once you were satisfied with the placements, you made your way to the bathroom. As you waited for the shower to heat up to a tolerable temperature, you took some time to pluck any stray hairs around your eyebrows and gently brush the knots out of your hair. Self-care had always felt like a long term investment to you - one well worth it.

The warm spray of the shower felt amazing on your tired muscles, so you took your sweet time getting clean and enjoying it, then blow-drying your hair on low heat when you were finished. After, you excitedly got out your new pajama set, clipped the tags, and put it on.

Shortly thereafter, you heard a key slip into the lock on the front door. You were cuddled up on the couch, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric on your freshly scrubbed skin as you watched through the complete second season of the Simpsons, popcorn in your lap.

When he stepped into the house, he raised his eyebrows at you, surveying the area.

“What?” you asked, giving him a confused look.

“Just looking for the books and the homework.” You rolled your eyes at him before he continued on with, “I just always assumed that when I wasn’t around, you were doing boring, adult things.”

You gave him a playful shrug as you gestured to the noticeably book free space around you.

He squinted at you suddenly. “Are you in your pajamas? You know it’s like 3:30 in the afternoon, right?”

“They’re new!” you quipped. “And I was excited to wear them. You don’t have to be jealous, you could go get yours on and join me.”

The offer seemed to be tempting him. “I have a better idea. How about you go change, and we’re going to go to a party tonight.”

You scowled at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you crazy? I’m already in my pajamas. I’ve already taken my bra off! Once it’s off, it doesn’t go back on.”

He laughed, loud and unabashed, showing you all of his teeth. The sound made your cheeks flush.

“C’mon, I bet Kate will be there,” he reasoned. “And I obviously will be. And I’m positive Jake will be too. This might be your chance to get them to hook up.”

You bit your bottom lip in consideration. “The timing would be kinda perfect; she could have the whole day tomorrow to process it and then tell me about it on Monday.”

He was smirking at you when you looked back up at him, making you tuck your hair behind your ear anxiously. “If I come, do you promise not to leave me alone?”

He nodded at you confidently. “I will not leave you.”

The very first thing you did was message Kate. It was vital that she was there, just in case Josh got too drunk to remember his promise. You didn’t have a hard time socializing, per-say. You were just nervous about your first real social event here.

Josh was right though - it wouldn’t kill you to make some more friends.

When you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth, Kate messaged back saying that she would never miss getting to see you drunk, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you had to drive, so you opted to leave that part out. You worked on picking out a good, sensible outfit and took your time to put on makeup again. Admittedly, it felt kind of nice - you used to wear a full beat all the time, but somewhere along the line it started to feel tedious, which is something you never wanted any of your favorite things to feel, so you put the whole idea of it on the shelf for a while.

When you finally emerged from your room around 8, Josh was sitting on the kitchen counter, phone in his hands as he furiously typed out a message. You listened to the pleasant sound of his fingers tapping on the glass screen for a moment before speaking.

“Who are you messaging?” you asked, but it didn’t grab his full attention right away.

“Just one of the other theater guys,” he said through a near sneer. The only time you ever saw him looking distressed was when it came to his production. “Trying to tell me what I can and can’t do with my own production-”

When he looked up at you the rest of his thoughts seemed to escape him, all the emotion in his face and posture crumbling away.

You folded your hands together, giving him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

He tucked his phone into the pocket of his pants, abandoning whatever he had been so intent on doing just seconds ago.

“Yeah, I just haven’t ever seen you dressed up before.”

The extra attention made you slump back against the hallway wall, giving him a nervous grimace. Through pursed lips, you asked, “Is it too much?”

His eyes popped open, along with his mouth. It took him a moment to speak actual words - like he wanted to say a lot all at once. “What? No! I’m just stupid,” he assured, running his fingers through his curls. “It took my brain a moment to process.”

You gave him a forgiving smile, opening the fridge and grabbing out a carton of juice. He watched as you took a swig, letting you swallow before asking, “Do you want me to drive?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, finger swiping away a stray droplet. “Can you?”

“Drive?” he laughed. “Yes. I can drive.”

“Legally?” you pressed, handing over the carton to him when you caught him eyeing it. He took a drink right from the spout as well, giving you a wink that made you lovingly roll your eyes.

+++

You two seemed to unintentionally match. He was in a pair of khaki pants, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a denim jacket on top. You were positive he was going to freeze solid one of these days because he always seemed to be way underdressed for the weather.

As you went to get out of the car, he stopped you with a touch to your knee. “You should take off your jacket and hat and leave them in here; I wouldn’t ever trust leaving them unattended at a party.” He paused before speaking again. “Not that anyone would necessarily steal them, just that people get drunk and think stuff is theirs.”

“Like you did with the wallet?” you teased, making him rub at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” he said pointedly through a grin. “Like that.”

He held the sleeve of your jacket as you shrugged out of it, abandoning it into the back seat. You took just a second to mourn the fact that it would be cold when you went to put it back on.

In the rearview mirror, you fixed your hair, having been mussed by the removal of your hat, and then stepped out. He ushered you along first, reaching past you and pushing the door open for you when you had reached it. The music hit you like a wall, loud and energetic - followed quickly by the smell of alcohol. A cloud of smoke hung subtly near the ceiling, giving the room an air of mystery. You realized you hadn’t made a move to enter the house when you felt his hand on the middle of your back.

“Everything okay?” he asked, just above the volume of the music. You nodded, feeling silly for holding him up, and stepped inside.

People were moving to the music like blood reacting to a heartbeat, swaying around to the rhythms all in a pleasant unison. The scene was oddly hypnotic as the colors danced around.

The second that people could see Josh behind you, they started calling his name. Your stomach lurched for a second, scared that he was either going to leave you or drag you to a group that you didn’t know, but he waved them off instead.

“I’ll catch you guys in a minute,” he shouted through a grin so charming they couldn’t seem to muster up a shred of annoyance toward him. Then, he spoke the next part right against your ear. “You want a drink?”

“Just one,” you agreed with a nod, shivering ever so slightly as his breath hit your cheek.

In the kitchen, huddled around an island covered by bottles, was a group of people, all very visibly drunk. One of those people was Kate, dressed in a crisp looking pair of jeans, a white crop top, and a red checkered flannel shirt, left open to expose her midriff.

When she caught sight of you, she gave you a big, toothy smile. The sharp fringe of her bob moved just enough to sometimes expose a pair of gold disk earrings.

“Need a drink?” she asked as she broke away from the rest of the crowd. “I’ll make it for you.”

You put your hands up, laughing at her enthusiasm. “I’m going to let Josh make it for me,” you informed, knowing full well that she would make it strong enough to get you drunk and keep you in that state for the whole evening.

The one that Josh ended up making for you was, undeniably, a rum and Coke. Not your most favorite thing ever, but then again, this one was mostly just Coke. You made a mental note to thank him for being so considerate.

The three of you ended up in the living room, right in the throws of all the action. You’d been to a few parties back home, but this felt kind of different. Back home, it was always hot, so the parties usually spilled out into the yard in all directions. Come to think of it, you’d never been to a party where the guests weren’t making prominent use of the pool. But here everyone was packed in tightly, making a large house feel tiny.

Kate found you all a nice little corner with a love seat and some kind of weird puff you think you were meant to put your feet on. Settling in there meant you’d have to share the space with a couple of other people, but it felt worth it to not be standing in the middle of the room. Being out in the open made you feel nervous - like you were being circled by sharks.

The songs changed, but the beat seemed to stay pretty much the same, making it easy for the time to slip by without your acknowledgment. By the time you checked your watch, it was nearly eleven.

True to his word, Josh didn’t leave your side the whole night. People kept popping in and out to get a word with him. You couldn’t hear them well because he was sat across from you, but he was laughing quite a bit. Some of it looked kind of forced, but most of it seemed genuine - like he was actually having a nice time.

It wasn’t until you were close to getting ready to leave that you saw Jake making his way down the stairs, one hand on the wooden railing to steady himself and the other wrapped around a red cup. You flashed him a smile when his eyes landed on you, and he gave you one back, giving you a feather-light punch to your shoulder when he reached you.

“Move over,” he demanded in Josh’s direction, sitting nearly on top of him on the couch, with only light complaints from his twin.

“You smell like sex,” Josh said through a fake grimace, pressing his elbow into Jake’s ribs.

“Can’t imagine why,” Jake responded with a smirk, lifting the cup to his lips as you giggled at him.

The realization struck you as his eyes landed on Kate next. “Oh, Jake, this is my friend Kate. Kate, Jake Kiszka.”

She reached out and took his hand to shake and at the same moment, Josh laid his hand on your leg and through a grin, asked, “Should we take off?”

You laughed, giving him a nod.

“Kathrine, Jacob,” Josh started, clapping his hands together in front of him. “We are leaving. See you guys soon?”

“We should actually get tacos,” Kate stated seriously to the group as a whole, and then just to Josh said, “And my name is Kathleen.”

#brightest blue fic #josh kiszka fic #josh gvf #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #josh gvf fic

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weepylucifer · 3 years

Text

Tosses another dinluke at you. This one’s about caring for each other

Luke awakens from uneasy sleep filled with nightmares, and immediately can tell that today is going to be terrible.

The occasional phantom pain in his wrist, that he can take. The old, flaring ache, the strange feeling that the hand is still there, which somehow makes both wearing and not wearing the prosthetic feel uncomfortable - well, it’s a drag, but it’s only one part of his body. With meditation to aid him, he finds he can usually sequester it off, away from the rest of him, and go through his day more or less like normal. But sometimes, each and every scar caused by the Force lightning clamors in pain, especially when he’s been dreaming about how he got them. This is the worst, because he hasn’t found a good way to cope with it yet. He can’t make the pain stop, and it’s driving him up the walls.

There’s no way he can teach his padawan like this.

Fortunately, Grogu’s father is visiting, and will probably be more than happy to entertain the kid for a day.

Luke hasn’t gotten the measure of the Mandalorian yet. He talks little, projects an aura of intimidation, being covered in armor all over like that, but he seems very attached to his child, so attached that Luke reckoned upon getting Grogu that breaking their bond would do a lot more harm than good. He’s come over for a few visits to far, and he practically curls over Grogu like a loth-cat over its young. But Luke doesn’t exactly know anything about him besides that.

Also, it’s dawned on Luke that he knows nothing about Mandalorians. He knows Boba Fett is one, but that’s pretty much it.

So he’s not exactly comfortable admitting his plight to the man. What if he perceives it as weakness? So when he emerges from his bedroom to greet him, he is brief, almost curt, making himself speak through the pain.

“I’m sorry, but there’ll be no lesson today. Can you just watch Grogu for me? I’m... something else has come up.”

The Mandalorian looks... like an expressionless helmet on a suit of armor. But his voice betrays some surprise when he says, “Um, yeah. Sure. Not a problem.”

He’s justified in his surprise; Luke has never cancelled Grogu’s lessons before. “Thanks,” Luke says and repeats, “Sorry this is on such short notice.”

The last thing he sees before beating his retreat back to his room is Grogu cooing and reaching a little hand out towards him in concern, doubtlessly feeling in the Force that something is amiss with Luke. He closes the door but can still hear the Mandalorian reassuring the kid to the best of his ability, “Sorry, buddy, your bajuri seems to be busy. No floating stuff today.”

Grogu emits the sad coo again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Wanna go to the pond and look for frogs?”

...

“We can take the Phoenix over there.”

A happy squeak tells Luke that the plan has met approval.

“You like flying with the jetpack, huh? Yeah, me too.”

Their voices recede, Grogu babbling happily and his father talking back pretending to understand him, and then the temple is silent. It dawns on Luke that the Mandalorian is attractive, the juxtaposition between the gleaming armored fighter and the father so gentle with his kid intriguing. The thought is brutally cut short by another sharp flash of searing pain.

He whines and flings himself onto his bed, curling up and tugging at his hair with both hands, hoping beyond reason that the pain in his scalp will distract him from the pain in his everywhere else.

Luke has been trying on and off to meditate or at least nap for several hours, when he hears a knock at the door. It can only be Mando.

“Um. Master Jedi?”

The Mandalorian has never asked Luke’s name, maybe he reckons Luke goes by his self-assumed title, just like he seems perfectly comfortable going by Mando. Yes?, Luke wants to ask, but he’s scared it’ll come out an undignified whimper.

“I made some dinner for the kid,” the Mandalorian continues. Is it dinner already? “I thought maybe you’d want some, so I’ll leave it out here.”

Luke blinks at the door. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, it’s, ah. Aruetiise usually find our cooking too spicy. So I made some bread to go with it, it. Helps. With the spice. I used some stuff from your storage for it, hope that’s okay.”

The silence persists.

“Putting it down now. Okay. Good luck with your... Jedi business.”

There’s a sound of, indeed, something being placed on the floor, then footsteps walking away.

Luke opens the door. There is a tray of food waiting for him. An amazingly delicious smell wafts from it and his stomach growls loudly, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten today.

So this man can cook. This man baked bread for him. Luke tries to imagine him, in the kitchen, doing that. Maybe he put Luke’s apron on over the armor. The thought makes him giggle for the first time today. Truly Grogu’s father is full of surprises.

It’s already getting dark out when Luke carries his empty plate back to the temple’s little kitchen. He finds Mando there with Grogu on his lap, as always in complete armor, simply watching as Grogu plays with a small silver ball.

Luke clears his throat. “Hi,” he says eloquently and carries his plate to the sink.

The Mandalorian nods in greeting. “All done in there?”

“Not exactly.” Somehow, Luke can feel Mando refocus on him, even through the helmet. He knows he must look rumpled, his hair mussed, his face drawn, and using one of his robes as a shawl. He wishes he had the ability to suffer more attractively, or at least the energy to make himself up a bit.

He sighs and sits down at the table with them. Somehow he feels like, as fair payment for the meal, the Mandalorian deserves his honesty in return. “Full disclosure, I wasn’t doing... Jedi stuff in my room. I just... I’m unwell.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Mando’s head tilts towards Grogu. It becomes apparent why when he asks, “Anything catching?”

“No. No, Grogu will be fine.” Luke folds his hands on the tabletop. Well, he’s already at it being honest. “Do you ever get the feeling of... old scars, hurting again? Like they’re new?”

“Your hand?” the Mandalorian asks. Ah, of course, he’s perceptive, he’s noticed the fake hand.

“Not just the hand. Everywhere. All over.” Luke grits his teeth as his nerves alight again along the lightning patterns. Maker, he hates this. It’s like the shrivelled old prune continues to torture him from beyond the grave.

“All over?” Mando repeats. The helmet’s modulator dulls emotion, but Luke guesses it’s concern he hears.

“Yeah. Look.” Following a sudden impulse, he gets up and shucks his robe, unbuttons his shirt and slips that off too. “Here, see?” He turns himself this way and that, catching the warm lamplight. “And yes, they go all the way down.”

Helmet or no, he can hear the Mandalorian’s breath catch. His hand, the one that’s not keeping Grogu from tumbling off his lap, twitches... rises... reaches out... Luke keeps himself very still. For a breath or two, he thinks that if the Mandalorian were to touch him, trace the lightning bolts on his torso with his gloved hand, then he might feel better. Might be soothed.

The hand is lowered to the table again as if embarrassed. Luke lets out his breath and tries not to slump in disappointment. “I’ve never seen scarring like that before,” the Mandalorian says. “And I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Force lightning,” Luke explains, before remembering that his companion knows nothing about the Force. “A Sith torture technique.”

“You were tortured?” Mando asks, then amends, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Luke sits back down, hugging his knees to his chest. “Pffft. It’s not like I’m not already thinking about it.” He rubs his hands down his arms at another shiver of pain. “The Emperor did this. When I went to confront him on the second Death Star.”

“It was you on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks.

“Yeah. The Emperor wanted me to join the dark side. I refused. I had no idea he’d just start frying me with lightning. I had no idea this was something the Force could even do.”

“But then you... killed the Emperor?” The Mandalorian is clearly guessing, and Luke finds himself astonished that there’s someone out there still who doesn’t know the whole Luke Skywalker Saga.

“I did not,” he says. “My father killed the Emperor. All I did was lie on the ground and be tortured.” He picks at his wrist where the synthetic skin joins the organic. “I’m not even bitter about that. It ended up saving my father’s soul. But sometimes, I have nightmares about it, you know? And in those dreams, my father... doesn’t help me. He just stands and stares at me and that’s worse than the pain. Because, when it actually happened, there was... a moment when I thought he wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t care and he’d watch me die. For a moment there, I lost hope, and that’s the worst of it really, knowing that about myself.”

“Why was... your father on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks, and huh, apparently he hasn’t heard about the Luke-and-Vader-connection either.

“It’s a long story,” Luke says, because it is, and he’s tired. His scars still hurt, not in these sudden flashes anymore, but as a pulsing, bone-deep, constant ache. But his chest feels a bit lighter for having talked about it.

The Mandalorian now gestures at said chest, instead of asking for the story again. “Can you take painkillers for those?”

Luke shakes his head. “They don’t help much. The pain’s in here.” He taps his temple. “I’ve just been trying to sleep it off, but it hurts too much to get to sleep.”

Mando hisses out a breath, and Luke is by this point fairly certain he’s commiserating. “Phew. Sounds like you need a drink.”

This makes Luke laugh, and he appreciates that. “You know, I’d love a drink, actually.”

After Grogu is put to bed, Luke gets a glass of spotchka and Mando’s company (he tilts the helmet off just far enough to free his mouth in quick, almost furtive gestures and takes tiny sips). His head’s starting to feel pleasantly swimmy when he says, “You know, I’ve just bared all my troubles to you - well, not all, but some, and pretty hefty ones - and yet I know... three facts about you, maybe.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that doesn’t seem fair,” the Mandalorian says amusedly. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name would be a good start,” Luke suggests.

The way the Mandalorian fidgets with his glass, he looks almost flustered. “Ah... Din. Din Djarin.”

“Luke Skywalker.” Luke grins and reaches across the table, ignoring the pinpricks of pain up his arm, to grip Mando’s - Din’s - hand. “It’s nice to have met you, Din Djarin.”

-----

In the following months, these flare-ups return occasionally, but none in such intensity. Luke knows that it’s only a matter of time, though. He’s beginning to suspect that this might stay with him forever. But he’s not as horrified at the prospect as he once was, after talking about it to Din and being neither judged nor pitied. After Din didn’t look at him worried like Leia, or attempted clumsily to walk on eggshells around the topic like Han, and didn’t think less of Luke, and didn’t act like Luke’s admittance to his issues tarnished some sort of larger-than-life image of the glowing Jedi hero. How odd it is to think of a future that has someone in it he can rely on in such an uncomplicated manner. He hasn’t had anyone in his life to rely on - or dared to think of himself as needing this - since... well, since Aunt Beru, probably.

During these months, Grogu has steadily progressed in his studies. Din has visited the temple with some regularity, but Luke has yet to get used to him. How could he, when there’s so much new and exciting to discover about Din still? He finds himself looking forward to these visits, and missing Din when absent, almost as much as Grogu does. Din can only ever stay a few days at once, and Departure Day is a sad one for all two inhabitants of the makeshift Jedi school. (Luke’s not sure what Din does when he’s not here. It can’t be so important, right? Surely not more important than spending time with Grogu? Than talking to Luke?)

This time, though, when Din shows up at the agreed-upon time, it’s weird. He speaks even less than usual, he seems to retreat into his armor even more, he opts to sleep in his ship instead of one of the many empty bedrooms in the temple that Luke has yet to fill with more students. And he barely holds or even touches Grogu, and that tips Luke off. These other observations he could chalk up to paranoia and his own desire to coax Din out of his (figurative!) shell. But that last one tells him that something is off.

Grogu can feel it too, and confusion and worry is seeping off of him into the Force. Luke tries to calm him and get him to sleep, but in the morning, Grogu’s still a bit anxious, and their collective worry mounts when breakfast passes by and Din fails to emerge from his ship. The two of them are reflecting their worry back off each other, and it’s getting aggravating, so Luke gets up and resolves to investigate.

“Okay, Grogu, can you go in the garden and play with Artoo? I’ll go look what’s up with your dad.”

Grogu immediately calms now that he knows the matter is being taken care of, and it warms Luke’s heart to see how much the kid has grown to trust him.

He gains entrance to the ship - it’s not the same one that Grogu has shared memories of with him, but similar enough in layout. The cockpit is empty, so he descends down a narrow ladder into what probably passes for crew quarters here. Peering around a corner, he finds Din hunkered down with his back against the durasteel wall, his threadbare cape wrapped around him as a blanket. He hasn’t noticed Luke come in yet, and that’s wrong in and of itself, and he’s shivering so hard it makes his beskar rattle slightly. As Luke lays eyes on him, he breaks into a horrid wet cough beneath the helmet, the modulator rendering it rasping and metallic.

Okay, something must be done.

“Din?” Luke asks, peeking his head out into open view. “It’s Luke, I’m in here now. You sound like my dad, kriffing-- how long has it been like this?”

Din’s head whips around in Luke’s direction, and he probably only doesn’t flinch because he’s trained to not flinch at things. “I’m fine,” he claims - outrageously lying - and tries to drag himself to his feet, hands bracing against the wall behind him.

Luke is already rushing to his side. “No, no, just stay down. There, that’s right, just sit. Are you wounded? Sick?”

Din tilts his head back against the wall. “Not wounded.”

“Well, that’s... good.” Luke squats next to him, unsure how to proceed. In the Force, he can feel exhaustion and pain radiating off of Din, but that doesn’t tell him what exactly is wrong. He tries to touch his wrist and, of course, meets beskar.

“Din, I realize this might be a... big ask, but can you remove your helmet so I can check your temperature?”

A stuttering sigh comes out through the modulator. “I don’t...”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Luke hurries to add. “It’ll just be for a few seconds. Oh, oh I have a blindfold back at the temple! I can run back and get it.”

Din shakes his head. “It’s okay. You’ve seen it before.” He reaches a shaking hand up and with a hiss, the locks on the helmet disengage. He slides it up and off and Luke takes in his face. It’s flushed, his hair matted and sweaty, his eyes bleary, and yet. It’s as attractive as Luke remembers.

Shaking these thoughts off, because there certainly are more important things now, Luke reaches out and puts his ungloved hand on Din’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he hisses. “I’m taking you back to the temple, I have medicine there.”

He’s already in the process of wrapping an arm around Din’s torso to help him up when Din shakes his head. “No. Gotta stay here.” His speech is washed out, his eyes glassy, and Luke’s concerned he’s not talking sense.

“You’ll be more comfortable at the temple.”

Din tries to brush him off with alarmingly feeble hands. “No. The kid.”

Ah. “I don’t think Grogu can catch anything off of you. Different species and all that.”

“You don’t know.”

Well, strictly speaking, Luke doesn’t. Yoda never mentioned anything like that. For a moment, Luke looks around the room, but his old mentor’s ghost is unhelpfully absent. He settles for promising, “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

Din shakes his head again. “Kid’s going to...” He’s interrupted by another coughing fit. “...try to heal me. Don’t want him to overdo it.”

Even miserably sick, Din’s first concern is for the child. It makes something warm swell in Luke’s chest, and he realizes with no small start that Oh, this might be something a lot more than attraction he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t matter now. “I’ll make sure Grogu doesn’t overtax himself then. I’m his teacher, it’s what I’m here for.” Not at home to any more protests, Luke uses the Force to help him lift Din up in his arms. “Try to have a little faith in me, okay?”

“I’m fine here on my own,” Din insists.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Luke says distractedly as he starts off towards the exit ramp, bridal-carrying a whole Mandalorian warrior.

Din is not cooperative, doing his damndest to make himself a dead weight. “I’m Mand’alor,” he mutters, eyes half-closed. “I don’t have to take that tone from you.”

Luke doesn’t know what that word means. Maybe it’s a special type of Mandalorian. He’ll ask later, if he remembers. “Right now, you’re sick, that’s all,” he says, taking them at a brisk pace back to the temple. “You need attention.”

Din’s answer is a displeased groan. “My own damn fault for taking off the helmet.”

In the moment, Luke wonders if he means that in a metaphysical sort of way, like he’s being punished by the ancient Mando gods for his heresy. He’ll later discover that it’s much more prosaic than that: Din has worn the helmet since he was a child, and it’s protected him amiably against any airborne diseases. Now that he’s decided to start taking if off occasionally amongst other people, his immune system is being thrown into a panic by all these new unfiltered things to be breathed in, and he has prompty caught some kind of space flu.

For now, he gets Din into bed, armor and all, and heads for the ‘fresher and the aid kit he stashed there.

Din is burning.

Din is glacier-cold.

He sleeps irregularly in this soft bed he doesn’t recognize, and wakes himself with fits of coughing. He gropes for lucidity and gives up on it again in intervals. At some point, someone took his helmet - no, he remembers taking it off, or was that a dream? He has a memory of being carried in somebody’s arms, but who would carry him in full beskar? Who would care to? He’s not on his ship and he’s not alone and this is wrong. He’s been sick before, even with the helmet: from infected wounds or bad food or bad water or being out in harsh weather too long during a job. He’s always ridden it out by himself, if he was too far off to stumble his way back to the covert. But this isn’t the covert - that’s long gone, isn’t it? - and someone is here.

The person, at some point, helps him sit up and removes his armor, and Din would panic - does - but the person’s hands on him are gentle, and there’s some voice telling him that “It’s just to make you more comfortable, I’m putting it right next to the bed, I’m not taking it away, see? It’s right here waiting for you” and he’s too exhausted to put up a fight, and why would they lie? If they wanted the beskar for themselves they would’ve killed him already. But the person doesn’t. The person gives him water when he’s coughed his throat raw. The person drapes a blanket over him, which he shucks off during the hot spells only to grope for it again during the cold ones. The person puts a hand on his forehead and it’s even more cool and soothing than the damp cloth they also provide.

At some point, the person puts something in the bed with him - some alive thing, some small and fussy thing, some important thing with small green claws and wide moon eyes and large ears that are the softest thing that Din’s ever touched. He reaches out for it on instinct, just to pet the downy white hairs on its little head, and the person’s voice says from somewhere far above, “Okay, Grogu, I promised your father to take this slow. We’ll do this gradually, so you don’t tire yourself. You understand? Small healing. Easy.”

The small and precious thing makes a displeased sound, and Din wants to soothe it again. The voice replies, “I know how you feel, I know you want to fix it all right now, but I promised, okay? Your father will be very disappointed in me if we don’t do this just like he’d have it. And we don’t want that, hm?”

Din hears a coo close to his ear, feels a tiny, three-clawed hand touching him, and then there’s a sudden warmth spreading in his chest, not like the clammy heat of the fever but different, pleasant. Suddenly it seems easier to lie back and get some real, truly restful sleep, and this he does.

This instance repeats several more times, over days, until there is a point at which Din wakes - still sore, shaky, and with his muscles aching from having trembled so much - but with the fever broken and his head clear enough to string a coherent thought together.

He’s vaguely aware of a warbling voice a short distance away that he can’t quite yet discern. The room is dim, with only a singular lamp by his bedside spreading a warm light. There is a window above the bed but no light is coming in. It must be late in the evening - Grogu’s bedtime, is what Din’s inner alarm clock tells him without fail. And indeed, when he raises his head, he spots a small crib across the room that can only be Grogu’s, and Luke is there, rocking it in gentle motions. It is him who’s doing the crooning - singing Grogu to sleep, Din realizes abruptly. As he focuses, the lullaby slowly starts to make some sense: it’s in Bocce, which Din is about as conversant in as Tusken. He’s actually heard the tune before; it’s a nonsensical little ditty that settlers on Tatooine sing to their children.

He stretches out an arm and points a shaky finger at Luke.

“Hick,” he accuses, his voice gritty like he gargled a mouthful of sand.

Luke spins around, his blue eyes widening. “If you’re trying to insinuate that only sand-encrusted, desert-dwelling hicks speak Bocce,” he says, “then you are correct.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you back with us.”

“You’re from Tatooine,” Din says, and wonders why this is so important to him. Maybe it’s because learning things about Luke is like putting a puzzle together. There’s somehow a whole bunch of people that Luke is - he’s fascinating, he’s vexing, he’s confusing, and Din has no idea why he’s this interested in the first place. Well, he does have some clue, but it’s best not dwelled upon. Luke has his Creed and his life, Din has his wholly different Creed and life, and it’s not like the interest can be mutual anyway.

Or can it? Luke seems to have been here for days, watching him heal. Din’s mind veers away from phrases like “nursing” and “caring for” because, well, it implies a needing and a being needed that’s not usually extant for him. He takes care of himself, mostly, that is how it’s been for years. Decades...

Luke nods. “Anchorhead represent. Go Womp Rats.”

Din wrinkles his nose. “Anchorhead? There’s nothing there.”

“You’re telling me! Come talk to me about it when you’ve lived there for nineteen years.” He crosses the room to come perch on the edge of Din’s bed. “Which you won’t, you’re the king of Mandalore.”

Oh, shit. Yeah. He’s probably missing a council meeting right now. Wait. “Who told you?”

“You talked a lot when you were feverish.” Luke passes a hand over Din’s brow. He’s done that before, but it’s very different now that Din is awake for it. “It seems to have broken.”

“You had the kid heal me,” Din surmises. He can’t waste breath right now on wondering what else he said to Luke, when the fever had him. “I told you not to do that.”

“I had him heal you slowly, step by step, so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Just a little every day,” Luke explains.

“He okay now?”

“He’s-” Luke begins to answer, then stops himself. A truly mischievous smile spreads on his lips. “Prince Grogu is resting, your highness. But yes, your majesty, he’s perfectly fine and healthy.”

“Stop.” Din swats a hand at him. “Not... ‘majesty’. We don’t even do that. It’s just ‘Alor. Actually, it’s just Din.”

Luke dodges his hand and almost falls back onto the bed, laughing. “Oh, dear. Please, your worship, accept this humble Jedi’s apology--”

“I mean it, stop--” He probably sounds petulant. He can’t bring himself to care.

Luke’s smile gentles. So do his eyes, impossibly blue. Huh. He’s beautiful. “I’m just teasing you,” he says, beautifully. “I know this doesn’t change anything here. Just another facet of the man I’ve been getting to know.”

“Ah. So you’ve been.” Din clears his throat. That feels awful, as it is still very dry. “Getting to know me. Huh?”

Does this qualify as flirting? This is probably awful. Din’s not good at this. And anyway, it’s still unclear if Luke is actually--???

The softest pair of lips in the galaxy (the galaxy!!!) is on his forehead. Din’s chest implodes. He can feel Luke’s smile on his skin. He’s never felt anything like it before. How is this happening? He’s most likely still sick, and this is a fever dream.

“I’d like to get to know much more of you,” Luke says, withdrawing, still smiling, his eyes like sun-streaked oceans. Din has no breath in his chest.

He delays his reaction two seconds too long, and Luke’s expression begins to falter. “I’m... sorry, you’ve just recovered, and here I am putting... this on you.” He gestures broadly at himself in his entirety. “I... hold on, I’ll go get you, um, a glass of water or something...”

Din would like a glass of water. He would not like Luke to leave. The latter wins out. “Wait.” He grasps Luke’s wrist before he can get up. “I didn’t mean... I would, um. Like to get to know you also.”

Luke stills, his face a turmoil of emotion. How is this the same man who looked so utterly serene to the point of expressionlessness when they first met?

Din figures it’s way past time he made a move. Luke’s already gone and bared himself so much. It’s only fair that he meet him halfway, Din thinks and kisses him.

#dinluke #skydalorian #hurt/comfort #sickfic #this one's about two guys who don't normally have people finding themselves having someone #it got longer than expected!#did i give din djarin the corner virus by accident #big yikes #posts by me

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noonmutter · 3 years

Text

Introductions

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 12: Ball/Gravestone

"It's gonna be a quiet meetin'. They're not...th' most talkative people, these days."

"No, I know, love, of course. I absolutely still want to do this. You're so brave for this and I'm so proud of you."

Leon couldn't hold in a chuckle at that. Valarin's open, whole-hearted support of him for what was, admittedly, a trip that Leon had made dozens of times by now was all but impossible to ignore. The reassurance wasn’t necessary, but he wasn’t about to ruin Val’s fun. He simply set a hand on his wee love's shoulder to momentarily silence him, and bent to kiss his forehead.

"Thank you, love. It's okay. I'm not gonna collapse, it's just...a li'l tense, sometimes. Bringin' somebody new..." He let himself trail off as he inspected the kit they'd brought with them. Valarin had brought the supplies for their lunch, and he'd brought a bag of gardening tools, along with a couple bouquets of marigolds at Val's insistence. Asking about the marigolds had opened up the floodgates, not that he minded; listening to Valarin get himself going about something he was passionate about was one of Leon’s favorite things.

"The marigolds are traditionally very important! You see, the land of the living can be confusing and difficult to navigate for spirits. We try to help them by providing strong sensory things to guide them. The marigolds have a strong smell, but I think their color is quite strong too! And the candles are a little lighthouse..."

The flowers had been a bit of a trick to avoid crushing once they'd left the road that would've led them across the border into Stranglethorn, but they'd managed. He still wasn't sure if mum and dad would actually like the marigolds, but he understood the importance of it being this specific kind of flower, now. It was both like and unlike the little ceremonies the Gilnean was familiar with.

"This is such a lovely area, too. I’m honestly so excited to see where your parents rest. I’ve not really seen many human gravesites. I’m interested to see how similar they are. I’d like to learn about Gilnean customs regarding it. I know that the Day of the Dead is more widespread now, so I’m sure your parents will enjoy the offerings all the same. And--Hey, are you doing okay? You’ve been a little quiet."

Leon paused, then gave a short shake of his head. "Just tryna make sure we don't get lost, hey?" It was a lame excuse for letting his mind wander, but Val let it pass, since they were tromping through an awful lot of dense foliage. Valarin was aware there was a moonwell not all that far from where they wandered, and though there was a ceasefire, it was still Alliance territory and he was still visibly not a night elf. The tension wasn't really there like it'd been during their trip to Aerie Peak, though; they were alone and nowhere near a proper settlement.

He almost asked another question before Leon stopped, pointed at a small cluster of bright purple blooms hugging the forest floor, and said, "We're 'ere." It was hard not to get excited all over again, but he wanted to be respectful of Leon's feelings, so he kept himself from squeaking and simply gave Leon his best 'I'm here for you' smile. Leon answered it with another kiss on his forehead. Val liked those kisses, even if they were usually Leon filling in a silence when he couldn't figure out what to say.

He watched Leon pull a ton of vines and push a ton of branches aside like a very sturdy set of curtains, and after a moment, rushed to assist. Together, they opened up a relatively worn footpath to a small clearing. Val couldn't help but gasp softly at the sight; it seemed like every square inch of the ground was covered in lilacs! Little purple flowers were everywhere, and the scent was almost overwhelming. Butterflies fluttered from blossom to blossom in every direction, and small clouds of them seemed to erupt every time he or Leon took a step. He found himself tiptoeing to try and avoid crushing anything almost immediately.

"Oh, Light, it's absolutely beautiful, Leon. You did this?" The thought was enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he tried not to let it, at least not yet. He knew he'd do plenty of crying before the day was out and he'd really rather not start again so soon. It was a little embarrassing, even if Leon said it wasn't. Just focus on not snagging your pants on anything, Valarin…

"Well, I mean, th' flowers did it on their own, mostly... flowers do tha'..." Leon looked sheepish as he deflected praise, "All I did was plant a couple an' leave 'em be. Lilacs 're 'ardy, easy thin's. Part o' why mum liked 'em so much." The Gilnean made his way carefully but quickly through the dense growth, well used to the path he took and not worrying overmuch about whether he was stomping flowers or butterflies; the flowers were going to be cut back anyway, and the butterflies were quicker than he was. Reaching the apparent edge of the clearing, Leon bent to set his hand on a particularly tall lilac bush, then abruptly tore away a few branches to reveal the carved wooden grave marker underneath it.

It was not a professional job, this marker, but it had definitely been a work of diligence and a high degree of effort. It was sanded down to a nearly glasslike smoothness, and it would probably shine like it once it was cleaned up. The uneven top edge of it suggested it had originally been a chunk of driftwood, but it’d been stained so dark that it was hard to be sure. Valarin was privately glad he’d gotten better at reading Common lettering; hand-carved stuff like this was a little tricky. “Bettany Marie Ambroce” caught a bit of light and practically glowed.

“Right. ‘Ere we are, then.”

“Oh, Leon,” Valarin said, “This is so lovely. This is your mother?” He knelt down beside the wood and brushed his fingertips over the lettering. “Hello, Missus Ambroce. I’m happy to meet you.”

“Yeah.” Leon didn’t really know how else to answer, but felt like that was woefully insufficient. “This’s mum.” Okay that was almost less helpful. He brushed his fingers along the lettering in much the same way Valarin had, mulling over a few things before he settled on a simple, “...You r’member Val’rin, right? I’ve talked about ‘im b’fore…” He risked a glance at his little love, offering a weak smile. “Only th’ good stuff, though. Promise.”

“It better have been!” Val flashed a playful grin and tossed his hair. “I am a perfect angel, after all.”

Chuckling, Leon set down the bag of tools and took out a pair of hedge trimmers, offering them to Valarin. “I’ll take care o’ th’ bigger messes, you clear out th’ stuff all over th’ ground, okay?”

“Wait, are we doing this entire clearing?”

“Course. Otherwise th’ lilacs’ll grow way too far an’ get completely outta control. It’s already bad enough cuz I waited longer’n I should’ve, I norm’ly come by ev’ry month or so.”

Valarin looked out across the small expanse of purple with a tiny bit less wonderment than he had the first time. This was a bit more work than he’d realized, but, he had to admit to himself, Leon had warned him. And he was bound and determined to help, regardless, so! Nothing for it but to roll up his sleeves and get to work. Leon had to restrain himself from grinning at the look of almost militant determination that Val got before he started clipping away.

“Cheer up, at least y’ don’t ‘ave t’ make it look pretty, too, hey?” He waggled his own pair of much smaller clippers, and gestured toward the high-piled bushes covering the pair of markers. “I’ll prune these down an’ then we’ll both tackle th’ rest of ‘em. It only takes about an hour if there’s two of us.”

“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“‘Ow d’you mean?”

“Well I’m going to end up killing most of these by cutting them back all…all willy-nilly, aren’t I?”

“Sure, but tha’s kinna th’ point. They can’t all keep growin’ or they’ll overtake more’n th’ forest kin afford, see? S’why I come back an’ clean it up at all. Can’t just plant whatever, wherever, or it throws th’ ‘ole balance outta whack. I’d be a worse druid than I already am if I just planted a bush an’ left it.”

“You are not a bad druid!”

Laughing, Leon pruned away, and Valarin attacked the rest of the lilacs with gusto.

Once they were roughly halfway through the clearing as a whole, Leon mercifully called for a break. Valarin was not at all accustomed to Leon in work mode, at least not like this; he knew the man could get lost in his leatherwork for hours, but that wasn’t quite so physically demanding as this. It was impressive, if a bit exhausting to keep up with.

They both sat down with a satisfied sigh, and Leon stretched his legs in the much more visible grass by the cleaned-up gravestones. Once properly polished, the lettering on both gleamed like it had been painted with gold:

Bettany Marie Ambroce Beloved wife and mother I’ll take it from here

Graeme Iain Ambroce Beloved husband and father I’ve got this

“Dad would’ve liked you, y’know.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Anybody ‘o kin keep up with an Ambroce’s bullshit is worth keepin’ an eye on, somethin’ like that.” Leon chuckled with a subdued smile, thinking back on various times when he’d heard that. Naturally, Graeme had been talking about his own wife, but still. It had merit. “‘Especially th’ wee ones.’ Mum was about yer ‘eight, I think.”

Valarin’s ears went back just a little. “I’m not that wee.” After a moment, though, he let himself chuckle, too. “Although I suppose it’s still a compliment. You said he was a mountain, anyway.”

That made Leon laugh, and he threw his arms out wide. “Oh yeah, an absolute fuckin’ behemoth, was dad. ‘E wrestled with steer at th’ yearly fairs, sometimes, an’...”

As much as Leon enjoyed listening to Valarin give impromptu dissertations, Valarin loved listening to Leon tell stories of his family and his home. Knowing that he’d never get to see either of them the way his boyfriend did, he clung to every word to try his best to imagine it, and let the farmboy ramble as long as he was willing to. He only dared to interrupt long enough to break out their picnic, which thankfully didn’t stop the flood at all.

Once they’d eaten and Leon had run out of tales to tell--some of which Valarin was sure had to be at least exaggerated, if not totally made up, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out which ones--they’d gotten back to work. It was almost agony to start over again, since they’d had enough time for their hands to start hurting. That only seemed to spur them to get done quicker so that they were able to put the tools away after what felt like no time at all.

While Leon was raking the detritus into a corner of the clearing, Valarin set to work by the markers.

First, Valarin set up a small collapsible bed tray in front of the markers themselves, and covered it with a white cloth. He set out a few candles and arranged the marigolds all around what would become their ofrenda. Upon the tray he left portions of the favored foods they had brought; raspberry tarts, beef pasties, fried taters, all sorts of things. Though they had no pictures of the deceased--Leon couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the only image he had of his entire family--it was the thought that counted for this.

Obviously, Leon wanted to help, but he also didn’t want to do things wrong (despite Valarin’s many and constant reminders that there was no wrong way to arrange an ofrenda), so he hung back until it was almost finished. At Valarin’s urging, Leon took up a long match, and they each lit a candle at the same time, one for each parent. Finally, a small bundle of marigold petals was pressed into Leon’s hands, and he awkwardly scattered them in a rough line from the ofrenda to the graves themselves. Valarin had already made one out of the clearing itself, and with Leon’s contribution, there was a complete path.

When he returned to Val’s side, Val immediately curled both arms around his waist and tugged him down till they were both seated in the grass before the ofrenda. There, Val could finally get the cuddles he so cherished. Leon smiled softly and dragged the insistent thing into his lap, the better to hug him close and rest his chin on top of Val’s head.

“So… what ‘appens now?”

“Now, you tell me more stories about them, and cuddle me, and I’ll tell you stories about mine, and cuddle you.”

“All night?”

“All night.”

“I think I kin do tha’.”

Though they couldn’t leave everything behind, the next morning, a pair of marigold-and-lilac wreaths hung from the wooden gravestones.

( @daily-writing-challenge @valarin-sunstorm )

#my writing #leon #valarin #valeon #mum and dad #collab #writing valarin in full Explain Mode is HARD so the mun helped :D #dwc

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max-vandenburg-is-life · 3 years

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Long Loki rant incoming

Ok first things first I've always liked Loki a lot as a character but I don't consider myself a really really big fan mainly because I haven't read the comics. So all this rant is gonna be only about mcu loki and loki in the mcu has been written differently depending on the movie so yeah. And on that note let's go!!!!

So today I'm gonna talk about what I liked and what I didn't like about the Loki show. This is obviously just my opinion, you can disagree with me! I'd love to hear your opinions!

First I wanna talk about is the writing of Loki's character. So previously it has been established in the mcu that Loki doesn't do bad things just because he's a bad guy or because he wants power above everything else, but because after all the manipulation and lying he went through as a child, the abuse, always been seen as less than those around him and being taught to hate himself for who he was (a Jotun). He wants validation and being treated the same as the others, he doesn't really care about ruling or being king. His actions are a result of his trauma. So the show painting him as "He's a bad guy!! He's evil he can't help it it's in his nature!! He just wants to be king!!!" felt off to me since it completely goes against all the previous canon. Apart from that, I feel the show also erased other aspects of him that had always been essential to his character, such as him being very smart and always having a plan, and his powers (he BARELY used his powers throughout the season and he's supposed to be the best sorcerer in the nine realms. Please). So yeah there's that. I didn't absolutely despise his character in the show or anything like that, he generally seemed more happy and chill and that was good, I just felt some aspects of the character seemed inconsistent.

Apart from Loki, something I loved about the show were all the new characters that we were introduced to. Sylvie was absolutely fantastic, she had a well written tragic backstory, she had a goal and she had layers. She was a really well written character. Also she was just really cool overall, she had a cool personality and seeing her use her powers was very fun. (Sylvie your hand in marriage) (I guess I can talk about the "betrayal" now. So yeah not gonna lie I don't think it was that bad. She had a goal she had been pursuing her whole life and she obviously prioritized that before a guy who she met a few days ago. She did hurt him of course but still it's easy to understand her decision.) Mobius was also really cool, in the first episode I didn't like him much but I started liking him a lot later on. He's just a good guy, he wants to help people. (HE ONLY WANTED A JETSKI MARVEL). And I liked his story a lot, he was forced into working for the tva because his memories were erased and he was told what he was doing the right thing when killing all those people, but once he finds out all of it was false he immediately starts going against it and trying to help as many people as he can. Ravonna was also a good character (I keep saying all of them are good characters lol they're well written ok). Like okay she was a little bit evil but I liked her. I really liked her ambition and her confidence. I would have loved to know more about her life at the tva, because it seemed like because of her position she knew some things that most didn't. Hunter B15 was also really good, loved her character development. Casey only appeared in the first two eps but for some reason I liked him a lot idk why. Casey my beloved. Kang was mind-blowing good, he absolutely carried the episode. He was so fun to watch and a very interesting character. This is how you do villains Marvel. And then all the Loki variants were amazing. Classic Loki was great, he was more mature and wiser than the Loki we're used to watching and I felt really sad about his whole situation (aka trying and failing to find his brother because he missed him, getting pruned and then dying). Kid loki was a BLAST, I really liked the little funky dude and I would love to know more about his life. Boastful Loki didn't appear for long but I liked him a lot, he looked like a really funny guy I wish he had had more screen time. And then there was the Lokigator which was also great. President Loki was also cool (meaning he had the coolest outfit), but we didn't see much of him. I think that's a big problem with the show, because they made it seem like it was gonna be more about the other Loki variants and their timelines (that's what it seemed to me from the trailers) but then we barely got that. Sad shit.

Now let's talk about the writing of the show in general. The writers definitely went off with the philosophical conversations, I enjoyed them greatly (Loki's and Mobius' talk in the second ep and Loki's and Sylvie's talk in the third ep were amazing). Something I didn't like at all about the show (this is probably my biggest complaint) is that the writing of the show throughout the episodes didn't seem consistent, like each episode seemed to be a different genre, and that made the whole story feel weird. What I'm trying to say is: the first episode was about Loki learning more about his life and reflecting on why he does the things he does. There was more to the episode but it was mainly that. It was a very emotional episode. The second episode looked like a cop show, they investigated a crime scene in the beginning, they did some detectiving, they had a great breakthrough and found out were the villain was hiding in the end. The third episode was an action episode. It gave me the vibes of mid season episode that isn't too relevant to the plot in which the characters go on some short mission. The fourth episode I can't exactly categorize it I think it was kinda like episode 1 but with some more action. The fifth episode was also a mix, they had a lot of reflecting on Loki's character like in the first episode and then also some action. And the last episode was mostly just exposition and a tiny bit of action at the end, very philosophical and stuff. It also felt like in the first two episodes they were indicating that the show was gonna be about free will and good and evil but that kind of disappeared for a big part of the show. I'm trying so hard to explain myself well, I hope what I say makes sense. Now my opinion on the episodes, my favourites were definitely ep 1, 3 and 5 (haha odd numbers go brrrr). The pilot was absolutely amazing, and I loved the direction the show seemed to be taking (YES MARVEL explore his trauma mmmm that's some good shit right there). It was really emotional but like in a good way. The third episode was great. I think it balanced really well the action and the dialogue, seeing Loki and Sylvie going on their shenanigans, using their powers and fighting was really fun, and then the train talk scene was absolutely amazing (bi loki yay! Gonna talk about this later). The fifth episode was great mostly because seeing all the other Loki variants and how they contrasted between each other was fantastic and I loved it. I really hope we see more of the variants in the next season. The other eps, the second and fourth were okay, the one I think was the worst one was the last one. Damn that episode. It was a very slow episode. Thank god the guy who plays Kang was really good because otherwise the episode would have been impossible to watch. There was so much exposure but it felt like we already knew most of it? They talked about how multiple timelines existing was bad because chaos and stuff, and they talked about the war in which the different timelines battled each other. Ok we already knew this. I feel like the only important thing to take from that whole talk was that Kang's variants are very powerful and dangerous and they were introducing the villain to the mcu. The whole episode felt like instead of giving closure to the characters or ending some storylines, the main thing it was doing was introducing the concept of the multiverse for the next marvel movies.

Something that surprised me a lot about the show is how important it is for the mcu storyline. Like in the first episode they talked about how the tva (and of course Kang) was much more powerful than the Infinity Stones, when basically all previous marvel movies were about them and about their power. And then Kang was revealed to have created a sacred timeline, he controls absolutely everything that happens. All of this is so important and for some reason I didn't think the show was gonna be like this. Not that I'm complaining, this is great. And I feel like a lot of people are not realising how big it is? Like I don't see much talking about how this is literally the greatest power in the universe.

Damn this is getting long sorry.

I suppose I'll have to talk about it because it has been this big thing. I'm talking about the loki x sylvie pairing. I didn't like it too much, it felt a lot like the writers went "he's a guy she's a girl so they have to fall in love", like I felt they had a very different dynamic and when they said that I was mostly surprised and confused. Because they were variants of each other their romance felt weird to me, and the fact that they made a character genderfluid and then made a woman and a man version fall in love also rubbed me the wrong way (I'll talk about the genderfluidity later). I did like the mobius x loki pairing more, but still I don't think they should have got any romance this season, I feel like there has to be a lot more progress in that relationship before any romance. I generally feel like Loki should first start getting some friends and then later on we can start with romance. But yeah this is just my opinion. And all the drama and discourse there has been over this???? Some of you guys look ridiculous not gonna lie.

Ok now let's talk about representation. I'm not poc myself so I don't feel like I'm in the position to say if something was good or bad, so I'm not gonna talk about poc rep. The show did a good job with female characters, many of the main characters were women and they were very well-written, not sexualized and cast appropriately for their age (I can't believe I'm praising this, this should be the bare minimum. Why is media in general so bad. Like please just.) About the bi rep now. I'm sure that the writers or directors of the show had to fight really hard with marvel so that they could make loki canon bi, so yeah cheers to that guys good job. Obviously it's not enough, and I really hope his bisexuality is explored more later. But yeah we finally have a queer character in the mcu this is big. Now about the genderfluid rep. OOF. I have a lot to say about this. It was bad. Really bad. I don't know if they just don't know what genderfluid means but that's what it looks like after watching the show. Not only were all of the variants cis, but they also went on to say that Loki as a woman was a weird and uncommon thing. Oh my god. And what angers me the most is the fact that Marvel used the so called genderfluid confirmation to their benefit. They exploited so much that little piece of paper that said his sex (not even gender) was fluid. I saw SO MANY articles praising marvel for making him canon genderfluid, and then it was absolutely shit. Absolutely shit. Out of everything in the show this is definitely what I hate the most.

Gotta calm down now. The soundtrack of the show was amazing, the actual songs they used were perfect and then the music they composed for the show was just *chef's kiss* (i have no idea how they're called but the song that plays during the title sequence WHAT A BANGER and the one that plays when loki and mobius are looking at the whole tva from the balcony in the first ep WHAT A BANGER). The aesthetic of the show was also great, the colours were really pretty (Lamentis bi colours my beloved) and I think it had some really cool shots. The acting was great, I'm gonna highlight Kang because I thought he was amazing. The costumes and that stuff were also really cool, I really liked seeing all the different versions of outfits they gave to the Loki variants (if anyone is interested I made another post reviewing all the variants' outfits) and Kang's funky costume was great too. The design of the places and that stuff (I have no idea how to call these lol I'm trying so hard but I don't know any of the technical words) was great: Lamentis was really beautiful, the void was also very cool and the tva was really well designed.

Ok y'all I think this is it. I'm so sorry this is much longer than I expected and if anyone actually reads all of it i love you and PLEASE tell me your thoughts (if anyone wanna chat about the show with me privately send me a message!!! I love talking with y'all). A little final note, English is not my first language, nor my second, so yeah sorry if I can't explain myself well. Bye!!!!

#i feel like this is super long and boring so if anyone actually reads all of it thanks #these are basically all my thoughts i really had to let them out #overall I'll say it was a pretty good show if we forget Loki's weird characterisation and the terrible genderfluid rep #i realized a few days ago that i can actually say whatever i want #like i can say my opinion i can say what i think and then people can disagree with me! and it's no big deal #I'm allowed to have opinions on things as well as everyone else #I'm working on some stuff #anyways that's all #please tell me what y'all think #I'd love to talk about the show!#loki spoilers #loki show #loki series #sylvie #mobius #kang the conqueror #he who remains #classic loki #kid loki #lokigator #gator loki #boastful loki #bisexual representation #genderfluid representation #ravonna renslayer #hunter b 15 #marvel #marvel show #loki #an original post no way

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Mistletoe prt.2

*yeets and runs* Sorry for the break in between.

Leviathan

-gasp! It's just like in his animes -and just like his animes it has to be perfect -boi is playing 5 D chess up in here -Mostly has to hype himself up

It started like any other game session with Levi. Greasy pizza plates and ramen bowls stacked precariously around you on the rim of his large tub. The two of you lounging inside of it. The hours ticked by surrounded by the sounds hardcore gaming.

He had invited you over to help him grind on a new phone game he bought. It was easier to go through the dungeons in a party then solo. Solid logic, and you never minded playing with him. Except for- well Levi himself. “Not on your A-game today?” You ask peaking over your phone to the demon stretched out across from you. He grunts noncommittally, eyes not even on his screen. They flick back to the screen once he noticed you staring.

“N-no. Sorry.” He muttered, sinking into himself. Hmm-Probably nothing. Happens to the best of them.

Six failed quests later though you had had enough.

“Bro!” You toss your device at him coming to crawl into his lap. You plop down on his blanketed form ignoring his protests and grab his own phone away. “What is up with you tonight? You sick?” Levi squawks flailing his gangly arms trying to push you off. His face and shoulders lighting up bright red with embarrassment.

“G-Get off!” He struggles.

“No!” You swat his hands away to grab at his face. Hmmm. Flushed but not feverish. “What is up with you today? Omg are you dying!” You straddle him poking and prodding at him. “If you die can I have your stuff? Promise I’ll feed Henry.” At this point you were just teasing him. He wrestles back stuttering and chirping.

“You’re on top of me! That’s the problem!” He frees himself from his blanket cocoon to flip your positions. His claws point into your flesh warningly.

You snort up into your demon’s beet red face. “Noo~You were acting weird before that too. This is your normal awkwardness.” You poke his nose for effect.

“Hmmph.” He pulls off of you and rubs at his face. Levi retreats back to his corner. “You didn’t notice. Of course you wouldn’t.” Notice what? You do a quick inventory of you and his room. Nope. All 10 fingers and toes, his room was its regular tidy chaos.

“Gimme a hint?” You feel stupid. Levi isn’t exactly subtle yet you were stumped. Still hiding behind his face in his pillows he points to his back. His tail to be exact. It wasn’t unusual for him to have his tail out when you came to chill. He used it a lot to grab stuff to drag it into his nest. You follow the line of his tail over the lip of the tub and then up-and up. The tip of which dangled over you a bright red ribbon tied to it… “Mistletoe? Oh-OH.” It was your turn to turn beet red. “How was I supposed to notice!” You shout flustered.

“How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t!” He yells back. You stare at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing at your shared stupidity.

“I’m sorry Levi,” You snort. Wiping at the tears of mirth brimming at the corner of your eyes you scoot closer. “Let me make it up to you? I believe you’ve deserve more than a kiss or two.”

Satan

-Smoother than a 100 year old bottle of port this one -He knew about this tradition before but will feign ignorance -Suave bastard has you guessing. Does he know about it or not???

You meet Satan’s gaze trying very very hard to figure out his angle. He doesn’t make a move. Instead he just rests on a large stack of books. An inhumanly large stack of books. More stacks and piles stood ominously behind him. “You owe me.” He purs tapping a finger to his lips. Ugh- you did owe him. Technically, it hadn’t been your fault. You were just in the wrong place and the worst possible time to walk in on Belphegor and Mammon somehow flood the library. Those two had supernatural speed and agility on their side when they heard the undeniable footsteps of wraith. You, on the other hand, did not.

At least he hadn’t killed you.

“Can’t you do this with magic?” You sigh hours later. Your fingers were pruning and the amount of paper cuts you had were staggering.

“Some of these books are very fragile. Magic would react negatively with them. By hand is best for these.” His back is to you, his full attention locked on the soggy book he was plotting with a towel. You grouch flipping back on your blow dryer. When you find those two Satan will be the least of their worries. Maybe you could get Lucifer on their asses as well.

Three stacks down and Devil knows how many left Satan finally calls for a break. Weary you drop to his chaise to rub at your sore feet. “Here,” He places a paper cup in your hand. “A little reward. It’s the perfect season for it, no?” Popping the lid you inhale the sweet smell of chocolate and cayenne.

“Thanks.” You take a sip and scoot over to let him sit as well. You drink in a pleasant silence. The chocolate warms you up and boosts your mood greatly. “Ready to get back to it? I bet we can get half of these done by dinner. Maybe then our next break could be hunting down those two clowns?” He laughs. You sound so hopeful for a little revenge.

“I won’t say no. But let’s see how far we get.” He helps you back up and hands you a small pile of leather bound books. “Unfortunately you can’t use heat on these, it will shrink the leather. Just put some of these towels and tissues between each page. And no, the puppy dog eyes won’t work on me.” Damn.

At least these books were beautiful. Gold and silver foil inlaid everywhere, the pages were soft and flexible under your fingertips from use. You could see why Satan wanted you to be extra careful with these.

You get into a groove with these books. Flip a page and insert a tissue. Rinse and repeat. It gave you a chance to zone out and enjoy the artwork on each page. Until the last book. Your flow was interrupted by something bulky nestled within the pages. You flip to the middle of the book to retrieve whatever it was (please don’t let it be another mummified demon rat please!).

It wasn't much to your relief. Instead you extract a dried bundle of green and white. You squint at it, turning it around in the light of your desk lamp. You feel Satan standing behind you. “My, would you look at that.” He snatches the herb from your fingers and spins your chair around to face him. “Mistletoe.” He dangles it up above the two of you.

“You set me up.” You grin leaning close to him. Your hands making their way to his shoulders to link around the back of his neck.

“Perhaps.” He hums. With a wave of his hand you feel his magic encapsulate the books around you, drying them instantly. He tosses the mistletoe away and reaches for your waist. “Are you mad?” You shake your head.

“No. But you better make it up to me.”

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me headcanons

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novasintheroom · 4 years

Note

Ooooo a fresh blog! Heyo there! So, my first request is some head canons, if you write them anyway, for the each of the turtles having a s/o who is usually the purest of beans. Like— she doesn’t get angry, usually shy when meeting new people, very humble, sweet and caring— but for the first time she does it’s like she realizes she’s frustrated and mad about something that happened during the day and it’s the first time she’s expressing it. the turtles notice her come in knowing something is off about her behavior when she’s usually so cheerful. Almost like “Sometimes it just makes me so— it makes me so... so...! Angry!” But she actually gets super surprised with herself realizing she’s actually venting just to say she’s fine in the end after bottling up for so long. The turtles just looking at her and asking if she’s okay 😂 If that makes any sense.. sorry if it doesn’t.

Oooooo my first ask!! I’m so nervous and excited! I think I got the gist of what you’re getting at. Thanks for sending this in, it means a lot to me! <3

Leo

· Honestly caught off guard when you come in steaming

· Your calm and sweetness is something he loves and looks forward to – it’s hard being the firm leader in his family when everyone pushes back, so you’re a pleasant break from the arguments and sassy remarks

· Not today

· It’s loud in the lair – Raph and Mikey are doing something with a basketball and hula hoop that’s got Raph raging and Mikey screaming, Donnie’s got a power tool going on the truck, and Splinter’s Celine Dion music is blaring to drown it all out while he works on pruning his plants

· Leo’s up in the concrete rafters with a book, glancing down every other minute to make sure Raph doesn’t kill Mikey

· He would have completely missed you coming in if Mikey hadn’t thrown the ball toward the entrance

· You dodge the ball before it hits you, but instead of laughing it off like usual, you throw a dark look at his brothers and beeline toward the dojo.

· Woah, that’s weird

· Avoidance of his family = big red flag

· You didn’t even say hi to him??

· Hops down and follows, waving off Mikey’s calls to you

· Finds you in the corner of the dojo, bag thrown to the side and hands smoothing out the sand of his small zen garden

· Feels a bit awkward honestly

· Listen, he’s getting better at it, but he’s not the best at feelings

· Especially girl feelings

· He knows something’s up though, and he wouldn’t be a good beau if he just let you simmer

· Spooks you when he asks if you’re okay

· Darn those ninja skills, how is someone as big as him so silent?

· You sigh and just say you had a fight with your roommate and that it’s fine, you just needed some quiet before you went to his family

· Okay, coolcoolcool. He can work with this. He and Raph fight all the time! “What was the fight about?”

· Cue explosion

· “She doesn’t pay her part of the bills on time, and she has her boyfriend over constantly and I can hear them through the walls when they’re screwing because the stupid cheap apartment has stupid cheap thin walls, and she leaves her dishes everywhere even when I ask her to not be a slob, and the landlord is getting after me for her rent when– “

· W o w

· He didn’t think you knew any swear words, but the names you’re calling your roommate would make even Raph blush

· Your rant goes on and on

· Anytime he tries to suggest a solution you get angry at him like why can’t he just listen omg

· He shuts up quick

· Somewhere in the process he sat down and your head moved to his lap while you laid all your problems out

· By the time you’re finished your chest is heaving and it’s been an hour

· Leo’s scared to say something in case you go off again lmao

· He just plays with your hair and hums while you calm down

· Finally you look at him with wide eyes, “Wow, geez, I didn’t think I was that mad.”

· He can’t help but laugh, “Me neither.”

· Your smile is back, though, and that’s the best thing he’s seen all day

· “You feeling better now?”

· You say yes, and give him a good hug and kiss as thanks for his patience

· He asks you to come to him if things start building up again

· Seriously, start talking to him – I don’t think the poor guy can handle another explosion like that lol

Raph

· Raph knows anger

· Does he know how to deal with it? Ehhh that’s hit-and-miss

· But he knows it

· So seeing your tense shoulders, clenched fists, grinding teeth when you walk in – he knows you’re angry

· It’s a bit off-putting tbh – you’re the calm to his rage, the quiet touch to wind him down when something gets under his skin

· What happened to make his quiet girl so mad?

· Did someone say something about your family?

· Or something about your outfit?

· Did a skeevy guy try to touch you?

· Did someone try to kiss you?

· Okay, now he’s getting mad

· Decides to take a page from Splinter’s book and pulls you aside to talk

· “What’s the matter?”

· You pull at your sleeves, looking anywhere but him

· You just mumble you’re fine, and that you’re hungry and try to move to the kitchen

· Nuh-uh, that don’t work with him

· Catches you by the arm and gives you a look, “Somethin’s bothering you, and you’re gonna tell me what it is.”

· “And what if I don’t wanna talk about it?”

· “Tough luck.”

· Your glare could curdle milk, but you don’t say anything

· Alright, you wanna play it that way? He’s got three brothers he grew up with; he can get it out of you.

· Hauls you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and takes you to his workout station

· Ignores your screams of outrage and the beating fists on his shell

· They’re like little kitten paw pats; he can’t help but smile at how small you really are

· When he sets you down in front of a world-weary punching bag, he crosses his arms and waits

· You’re red faced and snarling. “What are you doing?”

· He raises a fist, and gives the bag a good punch – “That’s for when Mikey backwashed into my water bottle today.” He throws another punch, “And that’s for Donnie’s stupid snorts waking me up last night,” and another, “and now I’m back on Mikey’s backwash!”

· He stops the bag’s swaying and gestures for you to take a turn

· Realization dawns in your eyes. You look at your fist and throw a pathetic punch at it. “That’s…for my fifth plant…dying this week?”

· He almost laughs, but nods encouragement

· You punch again. “That’s for whoever stole my lunch out of the fridge at work.”

· And again. “And for those kids who spit on that homeless guy!”

· And again. “And for Gina’s face when she made fun of my teeth!”

· Punch after punch, you let out your anger and frustrations that boiled over today

· Raph’s impressed – not just with how much crap happened to you, but how long you held it in

· You’re a lot stronger than he gave you credit for

· He’s also a bit freaked at seeing the rage in your eyes

· Is that what others see when he comes at them?

· Yeesh

· You feel a lot better after the session, if sheepish for letting so much anger show

· But he brushes it off, “Hey, you see how I am. It don’t bother me none, sweetheart.”

· He pinches your butt for good measure as you walk back to the lair and laughs when you punch him in the arm

Donnie

· The one that takes the longest to realize something’s up

· He can’t help it! He’s busy making sure his family is safe and hidden! He’s gotta keep the firewall up-to-date from all the new viruses being put out, check the perimeter lasers so that no one sneaks up on them, change the oil in the Turtle Tank, and why is the computer sparking over here, he needs to ask Raph or Leo to come with him to get new parts at the junkyard, but if he –

· Bumps into you and is like ‘oh. how’d you get in here’

· Delighted to see you though! It’s like all his worries suddenly vanished when he realized ‘oh yeah! I have a girlfriend!’ and that’s you!

· Missed you a lot since it’s been a few days since you could visit

· Starts showing you all of the progress he’s made on certain things, asks you how school’s going, how was that group project you had, did you get that interview for work?

· It’s your clipped and short answers that finally makes him take a step back and really see how you’re doing

· You’ve always been enthusiastic about his inventions, even if you don’t completely understand every technical thing he talks about. He thought you guys were past the awkward conversations too.

· Clipped answers are a big no-no – it makes him shrink inside, like his words and ideas don’t matter

· Takes a few seconds to look you over – awkward seconds, ones where you look down and away and not at him

· “Are you alright? Did…something happen?”

· You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, but then the words just start pouring out: “I’m sorry, it’s just, I can’t stop thinking about how my supervisors treated me the past few days. They scheduled me to work a triple shift! Without asking me! And I told them I had a date with you, and a million other things to do, but – “

· You lay it out for him, apologizing every other minute for just putting this on him out of the blue, that you tried really hard to be happy coming to the lair but your boss just text you that you have another shift tonight instead of getting to hang out with Donnie, and –

· Donnie sits you both down in a couple of chairs, his hands holding your own as you keep talking and venting

· Rubs circles into your palm, eyes never straying from your own watery and frustrated ones

· A breath out of the nose is the end to your rant, and you lean to put your head on his shoulder. “I just hate when people spring things on me! I just wanna stay with you and hand you tools to work on stuff.”

· His heart warms at this, even if he’s sad at how sucky your job is

· And it gives him an idea

· He manages to hack into your work’s scheduling system and put your supervisors or fellow employees in your place for the night

· Even sends out a text masked as your head boss to whoever he put, letting them know they’re on the job and that you had an emergency

· You’re torn on this – those people had things they had to do too

· But Donnie reassures you: “If they’re as bad as you say, then getting more people mad at them might just make them change. If not, we at least get to have our date night, right?”

· Well, when you put it that way…

· He gets a big, long smooch for pulling it off and for listening to you

Mikey

· Listen, this boy is intuitive when it comes to emotions.

· He kinda has to be with the type of older brothers he has lmao

· Instantly knows something’s up by the sound of your feet coming down the tunnels – heavy, like you want to stomp them but don’t know how

· He’s geared up though – his baby girl’s coming!

· Hops off the couch and has the biggest grin for you when you walk in

· Doesn’t even falter when he sees the glower on your face

· Says something stupid to test the waters – “Woah, babe, I’m gonna have to call the cops – I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to be as fine as you are!”

· Not even a smirk.

· Okay okay. Obvi you’re not in a happy mood.

· Man, he was hoping for a little blush at least!

· Takes that heavy bag off your shoulders you’ve been lugging around all day and corrals you back to the couch

· Grabs some sodas and a few chocolate bars from his hidden stash in the kitchen

· He knows you need it more than him right now

· Sits down and calls out to the lair that “we’re making out on the couch!!” Def keeps his family from coming in and interrupting lol

· Isn’t even phased when you explode about your day – your coworker had it out for you, your professor told the whole class that your paper was what not to do if you wanted a good grade, etc. etc.

· Mikey accents your day with “No!” and “He didn’t!” and “What a jerk!”

· It’s cathartic to hear someone agree with you like that

· He takes you in his arms when the frustrated tears start falling and you start to wind down

· “It just makes me so angry, and I hate feeling embarrassed and…”

· Rubs circles on your back to help calm you, just like his family did to him growing up

· After a minute you’re better, and back to your sweet, happy self, if still a bit stuffy from the tears and snot

· You’re surprised and apologize for your emotions, but he stops you

· “Hey, everyone has their bad days! Sometimes you just gotta let it out, y’know?”

· You give him a big kiss for being so sweet

· Makes the day a lot better after that with the soda and candy and some video games

· He’s a good turt <3

#tmnt #reader x tmnt #reader x leo #reader x mikey #reader x raph #reader x donnie #reader insert #answer #anonymous question #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #sfw #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #michelangelo x reader #donatello x reader #my writing

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

Hi there! I have come out of my depressive mental state and mental health social media purge to assault you with Loki TV series content for a minute. SPOILERS for the show and season finale below the cut. It is a little all over the place so that’s your warning.

Ok no. I just...I will grant them that Loki falling in love with himself is completely keeping in character but sweet jeebs Marvel. I'm a big time Lokius shipper and from episode 3 I had stuck to the distinct thought that Sylvie and Loki were more of a sibling dynamic but fuck it all. Of course there is an argument about writers vs directors take on the relationship and character motivations and what is romantic and what is manipulation but that’s a whole other tangent I don’t have the time nor patience for rn.

Feelings about "all of that" aside if they wanted to portray a het-romance (also yes, I know that someone being bi and falling in love with someone of the opposite gender is something that needs to be normalized more and that a character doesn’t have to end up with a same gender spouse to be considered bi/pan but that’s not the point)

If they wanted to portray Loki falling in love with a woman why did they not just make Sylvie, Sigyn? Y’know Loki's canon wife from the comics?

I’m gonna be going into AU territory here now but just here me out. (although considering this bitch unlocked the multiverse I guess all AUs can technically be called canon now)

Instead of Sylvie being born the Goddess of Mischief and all that stuff what if the person that was trying to take down the TVA was Sigyn?

Sigyn who was not supposed to meet Loki in her timeline but she did and they fell in love. Then the TVA showed up and took her away and pruned her timeline with the person she loved. So she escaped and did all that Sylvie did. Hid in apocalypse events and taught herself to enchant people but in this version she got a head start from watching Loki perform magic when they were together.

Then when Loki showed up at the TVA the agents don’t want him being swayed by his alternate timeline girlfriend so say she is a Variant form of himself. Then when she actually meets Loki again and he is saying that she is a variant form of himself she is just so done. These asshole agents have been hunting her all this time and are now using the love of her life against her?!??!! They didn't even bother to tell him who she really was!

She decides to press on and confront the Time Keepers as planned but gets in the tussle with Loki and they end up on Lamentis. She doesn't tell him about who she is at first cause she's on a mission and doesn't need the distraction of explaining their entire romantic backstory. She does eventually tell him that she got taken because she had fallen in love with someone she wasn't supposed to according to the TVA. She was doing all this to restore free will and to get back to the person she loved.

This obviously intrigues Loki and he asks who they fell in love with. Sigyn laughs and tells him that she fell in love with a real pain in the neck. Really, it is a wonder that anyone could put up with them. But they meant everything to her. Unable to hide her curiosity she asks about him and if he ever found love. He tells her that there is no one special waiting for him at the end of this. Nothing like what she was trying to get back to at least. Loki gets drunk after that, they get booted off the train, try to make it to the ark but it gets destroyed.

Then as they are awaiting the destruction of Lamentis and with nothing left to lose she tells him who she really is. How they fell in love and the day she got taken. How she escaped and vowed to take down the TVA to be with him again.

Things go pretty much the same from there. They confront Kang and Loki is trying to stop her from unleashing the multi-verse and setting dozens of evil Kangs on the universe but she’s too deep in it now to listen. She gives him the kiss and while it does work as a distraction to get him out so she can go through with killing Kang it is also the kiss goodbye since she never got the chance to have before she was taken by the TVA.

IDK. This has been running through my head all day cause I am such a fucking sucker for Loki/Sigyn content and dammit I just want a single crumb Marvel! Please! I love Sigyn so much I am asking for just one single blink and you miss it easter egg. I would be happy with that.

#loki #loki tv series #loki spoilers #sylvie #I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings #mobius my beloved #if i started talking about Lokius we would be here all day #marvel #i am asking pleading really for just the tiniest crumb marvel #that's all i need #just one fucking reference for my girl!#sigyn

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pinktwingirl · 3 years

Text

Loki Series Rewrite (AKA Loki Series But With Squirrel Girl) Ep 3

INT. TVA - DAY

Loki is attacking Sylvie. Suddenly, Doreen enters and rushes up to them.

DOREEN

Loki, catch!

She tosses him a prune stick. Loki takes it and he starts fighting Sylvie with her. During the battle, Doreen manages to overpower Sylvie and tackle her to the ground. Doreen holds her knuckle spikes to Sylvie's throat, but Sylvie twists her arm and kicks Loki's prune stick away. Sylvie then kicks Doreen's face and grabs Loki. Doreen freezes when she sees Sylvie is holding a dagger to Loki's throat. Just then, Ravonna and several other agents enter.

SYLVIE

Come any closer, and I'll kill him.

RAVONNA

Go for it.

Doreen glares at her. Before she can attack, Loki whips out his tem-pad, causing himself and Sylvie to disappear.

We cut to later, when Mobius, Ravonna, and Doreen are standing where Loki and Sylvie vanished.

DOREEN

(to Ravonna)

Thanks for nothing.

RAVONNA

I called her bluff. I knew she wasn't going to do it.

DOREEN

Yeah. Sure.

MOBIUS

Where the hell did they go?

DOREEN

You don't know?

MOBIUS

Loki took the tem-pad with him. We can't find his location if we don't have it.

(He groans in frustration.)

That bastard! He directly disobeyed me! I knew I shouldn't have trusted him!

DOREEN

He probably just wanted to know what was going on! Look, I can find him with-

(She takes out her Loki locket, only to see that it is broken.)

Shit...

MOBIUS

What?

DOREEN

This thing must've gotten damaged in the fight.

MOBIUS

Can't you just fix it?

DOREEN

It's not that simple. Thor let me borrow parts of rare Asgardian technology to build this. They were some of the last parts they had, so I would have to go back in time to Asgard to get more. And... I have no idea where I would even begin to start looking there.

Mobius sighs.

MOBIUS

Alright, look, I'll search through our files on Asgard to see what I can find. In the meantime, just try to salvage what you can, and don't dilly-dally. Every moment those variants are on the loose, we're all in danger.

INT. TVA OFFICE - DAY

Doreen is trying to work on the locket to no avail. She slams it down and sighs. Just then, her squirrel Monkey Joe hops up on the table, carrying spare parts. He sets them down and squeaks at her.

DOREEN

No... Those won't work, Monkey Joe. We need gear that can navigate through both space and time.

Looking dejected, Monkey Joe lets out a few sad squeaks. Doreen pets him and gives him an almond as consolation.

DOREEN

I know, buddy, you tried your best...

Doreen's other squirrels, Tippy-Toe and Mr. Lieberman join Monkey Joe to eat pieces of the almond. Just then, CASEY turns around and peers at the squirrels in horror.

CASEY

What are those?

(Beat)

DOREEN

Um, almonds? Want some?

CASEY

No, the... things eating them...

Doreen raises an eyebrow.

DOREEN

They're squirrels.

CASEY

"Squirrels?"

DOREEN

What, you've never seen a squirrel before?

CASEY

No... I've spent my whole life here, so I've never seen any animals at all.

Doreen looks mortified.

DOREEN

That's the saddest thing I've ever heard in my life...

INT. TVA LIBRARY - DAY

Mobius is looking through various old books on shelves. He pauses when he flips through a book that has Asgardian writing and a map of Asgard.

INT. TVA OFFICE - DAY

Doreen is showing Casey pictures of different types of squirrels on her phone as Casey looks on in wonder.

DOREEN

So, this here is a red squirrel. I just love their little pointy ears! Ooh, and these ones are extra rare: The Japanese flying squirrel! Look at their beady little eyes! And their fluffy tail! You can only find these in one island on all of Earth!

CASEY

Wow... That's amazing!

Just then, Mobius walks in.

MOBIUS

Doreen!

Doreen quickly slams her phone down.

DOREEN

Uhhh, yes, sir, we are hard at work!

She does an awkward salute. Mobius frowns at her.

MOBIUS

I found this book in our library.

(He flips to a page that has a drawing of Odin's treasure room with a description written in Asgardian.)

This look familiar?

Doreen frowns as she peers at the book.

DOREEN

This is all in Asgardian. I can't read it.

MOBIUS

Forget the text; look at the picture.

He points to a section of the drawing where several golden parts are stored in the treasure room. Doreen's eyes widen.

DOREEN

Oh my God... I think that's it!

Mobius grins.

MOBIUS

Yeah? You think you could go get it if I sent you to Asgard, say, a couple decades in the past?

DOREEN

Sure, I mean... All I would have to do is find Odin's treasure room... wherever that is, somehow break in, get the parts, and then, by some miracle, get out undetected, and then we're home free!

MOBIUS

Easy!

DOREEN

Easy!

(She pats him on the back.)

Good job, Moby! I might need a change of clothes, though.

MOBIUS

What's wrong with your clothes?

DOREEN

I mean, I can't just walk into Asgard like this; I'd stick out like a sore thumb!

Mobius sighs.

MOBIUS

Alright, I'll see if we have any old stuff from the Asgardian variants we've taken in. But study that book and maybe try to come up with a halfway coherent plan for sneaking in. I'll set the portal to send you back to the same moment in time once you're done, so you can take however long you need to look for the parts. But don't use that as an excuse to sight-see!

He chuckles under his breath as he walks away.

MOBIUS

"Moby"...

INT. LAMENTIS-1 TRAIN - NIGHT

Loki and Sylvie are chatting on the train.

SYLVIE

How about you? You're a prince! Must've been... would-be princesses. Or, perhaps, another prince?

LOKI

A bit of both. I suspect, the same as you. But nothing ever...

SYLVIE

Real.

LOKI

Hmm.

(Beat)

SYLVIE

What about your mortal girl? What was her name? Doreen?

Loki raises an eyebrow.

SYLVIE

She seems nice.

LOKI

Oh, I'm sure she'd appreciate that, coming from the person who practically kicked her face in.

SYLVIE

Hey, when she's on the run, a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.

LOKI

And, no, she's... just an acquaintance.

Sylvie raises an eyebrow and smirks.

INT. ASGARD PALACE, 1960 - NIGHT

Doreen enters the palace through a portal in a pretty, albeit slightly ill-fitting blue Asgardian dress, with her hair done up like all the other noble ladies. As she wanders around, she spots a crowd of noble ladies in ballgowns chatting and laughing while they walk. She tries to inconspicuously join the group, when a MAID calls out to her.

MAID

Um, pardon me, my lady?

Doreen freezes to see if the maid is talking to her.

MAID

Do you not have something to wear for tonight?

DOREEN

I... Um... Well, I was just going to wear this... very Asgardian dress...

MAID

Do you... have anything a little more formal? I trust you haven't forgotten that the ball is tonight?

DOREEN

Uh... Right... Yes... Of course... Um...

MAID

We have some spare dresses if you'd like to borrow one. I'm sure the queen wouldn't mind.

Doreen hesitates for a moment.

DOREEN

A-alright... Thank you.

She follows the maid into a corridor.

INT. CHANGING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Doreen sits in front of a mirror while the maid styles her hair. She has a layer of light, pretty makeup on her face.

MAID

Have you decided which dress you'd like, my lady?

DOREEN

Oh... I liked the green one.

The maid raises an eyebrow.

MAID

Are we... hoping for something?

DOREEN

Wh-what do you mean?

MAID

Well, if you're wearing the colors of Prince Loki, some might think you were... trying to get his attention.

(Beat)

DOREEN

W-will he be there?

MAID

He should. I must warn you that he detests these types of social events, though. At last winter's ball, he projected an illusion of himself in the ballroom to make it seem like he was present when he was really in his room reading books the whole night.

Doreen grins.

MAID

Shall I help you put on your dress?

DOREEN

(Lost in thought)

Yeah...

(Her head shoots up as she comes back to her senses.)

U-uh, I mean, no! No, no, no! I... I can do it myself...

INT. ASGARDIAN BALLROOM, 1960 - NIGHT

Loki is standing off to the side while Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three talk and drink. They are all dressed in their outfits from 2011 Thor. Thor downs a mug of ale.

THOR

Another!

He smashes his drink on the ground and Loki rolls his eyes. Thor approaches him and claps him on the back - a little too hard. Loki grunts and gives him an irritated look.

THOR

Come on, brother... You could at least try to have a little fun!

Loki scoffs.

LOKI

Watching every maiden in the palace fawn over you and Fandral is not my idea of fun.

Thor laughs.

THOR

Loki... Must you be so down? You can't spend all your time shut up in your room reading all those books and doing your little magic spells.

LOKI

Why not? I'd infinitely prefer it to this.

Before Thor can say another word, Loki walks off. A SERVANT approaches him, carrying a tray with a goblet of wine on it.

SERVANT

Some wine, your highness?

Loki eagerly takes the goblet and drinks it, nearly downing the entire thing in one swig. He freezes when he sees something in the distance.

We pan up the staircase as we see Doreen descending down it, wearing an elegant green and gold dress. Her hair is done up in an intricate braid, with golden ornaments adorning it. She looks around the ballroom nervously, peering at different corridors in an attempt to find the treasure room. Never taking his eyes off her, Loki sets the goblet down on a table nearby and walks off-screen.

As Doreen makes her way across the ballroom, Tippy-Toe suddenly scurries off to a table where grapes and nuts are laid out.

DOREEN

Tippy!

(She rushes after her.)

We're supposed to be keeping a low profile!

Tippy-Toe gives her a pleading look and a few squeaks. Doreen sighs.

DOREEN

Alright, fine. But just one.

She hands Tippy-Toe a macadamia nut. As the squirrel eats her treat, we suddenly hear Loki's voice behind them. Startled, Doreen whirls around.

LOKI

As much as I'm sure your friend is pleasant company, the kitchen staff might not take kindly to seeing a rodent on the refreshment table.

Tippy-Toe cocks her head and gives him an inquisitive squeak. Loki smiles at her.

LOKI

No offense.

DOREEN

Ah... Y-You're right, um... Tippy, why don't you go eat that outside? I'll catch up with you later.

Tippy-Toe squeaks and runs off with her nut. Nervously wringing her hands, Doreen glances back at Loki, who smiles at her.

DOREEN

So, um... Are you... actually here this time, or is this just another one of your creepy illusions?

Loki smiles and extends his hand to her.

LOKI

Perhaps you should find out for yourself.

After hesitating for a moment, Doreen gingerly places her hand in his. Loki kisses the back of her hand, causing her to blush.

LOKI

I'm terribly sorry; I don't believe I caught your name?

DOREEN

U-um... Doreen.

LOKI

Well, Lady Doreen... Would you care for a dance?

DOREEN

Huh? O-oh, I, um... I-I don't... really know how...

LOKI

It's easy! I'll teach you! Here...

(He leads her into the center of the ballroom, where other couples are dancing.)

Just step forward like this... Then back... Right... Left...

Doreen glances nervously around the room as he leads her into a waltz.

LOKI

You don't have to watch what everyone else is doing; just follow my lead...

(Beat)

You're, um... You're stepping on my foot.

DOREEN

Oh, sorry!

They continue to chat as they dance.

LOKI

You know, I'm surprised a noble lady like yourself never learned to dance.

DOREEN

Oh, well, um... I don't... really like going to parties very much.

LOKI

Ah. I don't either, to be honest.

DOREEN

Then how'd you get to be so good at dancing? Are all the girls lining up to dance with the youngest prince of Asgard?

Loki laughs, embarrassed.

LOKI

Ah.... N-no, not exactly... That's... more Thor's forte. I... mostly learned from dancing with my mother.

Doreen grins.

DOREEN

Aww...

Loki laughs.

(Beat)

LOKI

You're stepping on my foot again.

DOREEN

Ack!

She takes her foot off of his.

LOKI

You know, I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose.

DOREEN

I'm not!

After a pause, she grins devilishly and stomps on his foot, causing him to yelp in surprise.

DOREEN

Okay, maybe that was on purpose.

They both laugh. Doreen glances at his helmet.

DOREEN

That helmet looks... comfortable.

LOKI

Oh, it is.

DOREEN

Yeah, I don't believe you.

LOKI

Well, it only weighs about 30 pounds, give or take. It's like wearing a feather.

They both snicker.

DOREEN

Doesn't it ever throw you off balance?

LOKI

Not once you get used to it. You should try wearing it sometime. I'm sure you'd love it.

Doreen grins, laughing to herself.

DOREEN

Yeah, I'm sure...

LOKI

I, um... I must ask... Did you... wear green tonight deliberately? It is my favorite color, after all.

DOREEN

Oh, really? I never would've been able to tell!

They both laugh.

DOREEN

No, it, um... It's actually my favorite color, too, so...

LOKI

Ah.

DOREEN

Is that, like, something people actually do? I mean... wearing certain colors to get people to notice them?

LOKI

Well, sometimes, yes. I... admit, I... actually tried it once myself.

DOREEN

Oh yeah?

LOKI

A few years ago, there was a prince visiting from Vanaheim that I was... rather taken with. It was known that he loved silver, so I thought if I wore silver armor, I might... endear myself to him.

DOREEN

Did it work?

LOKI

(laughing)

No.

DOREEN

Well... I think you look better in green, anyway.

We cut to Thor standing with ODIN and FRIGGA on the far side of the ballroom, watching Loki and Doreen.

THOR

Mother, who is that Loki is dancing with?

FRIGGA

I'm not sure... I don't believe I've ever seen her around the palace before...

ODIN

Neither have I. I would wager she's merely the daughter of a poor social climber trying to pass himself off as a noble. Nothing to concern yourself with.

Thor grins as Odin walks off-screen.

THOR

Well, Loki seems to be finally enjoying himself...

They watch Loki twirl Doreen around as she giggles, her face flushed red. Frigga laughs.

FRIGGA

That's the first time I've seen him smile all day...

As they continue to dance, Doreen grows more nervous, suddenly unable to meet Loki's gaze, which never leaves her face. At one point, Loki places his hands around her waist and pulls her closer to him, causing her to tremble slightly. After hesitating, she gently places her hands on his shoulders. He smiles as the orchestra finishes playing.

DOREEN

How did I do?

LOKI

You're a fast learner. I'm impressed.

They smile at each other.

EXT. ASGARDIAN COURTYARD - NIGHT

Loki and Doreen chat as they walk through the garden in the palace courtyard, with Doreen drinking a cocktail in an elegant glass.

LOKI

I apologize if I come off as um... well, stiff... I have to admit this sort of thing is... well, it's rather new for me. I was never really very social growing up... Everyone always admired Thor for his physical strength, and, well... My own talents of magic and intellect are far less revered. The only friends I ever had, I met through Thor.

DOREEN

If it makes you feel any better, I didn't have any friends as a kid.

Loki raises an eyebrow.

LOKI

Not any?

Doreen shakes her head.

LOKI

Well, I... certainly wish we'd met sooner, then.

(Beat)

DOREEN

Yeah, me too.

LOKI

It's certainly never easy being an outcast... I've spent my whole life living in Thor's shadow... I know my father wishes I were more like him and his friends, but... All the brawn and muscle... It's just not who I am. I'm not like them.

DOREEN

Yeah, and, I mean, I'm sure being a frost giant and all must make you feel different, too...

Loki frowns.

LOKI

I beg your pardon?

Doreen's eyes widen, and she almost chokes on her drink.

DOREEN

U-Uh... I-I mean, um... Hypothetically speaking, if someone were... secretly a frost giant living in Asgard, that would... make them feel different, but, you know, that... wouldn't happen... ever...

She lets out a nervous laugh and sets her drink down on a nearby table as Loki blinks in confusion.

DOREEN

Anyways... What are you plans for the future if you're not first in line for the throne?

LOKI

I'm... not sure, to be honest. My parents thought I could gain some title of power by marrying me off to some other royal family, but I... don't think that's going to happen.

DOREEN

I guess it's too bad things didn't work out with that Vanaheim prince, then.

LOKI

Well, actually, I'm... rather glad they didn't now.

DOREEN

Why?

(Beat)

LOKI

Because now I've met you.

Doreen freezes and glances at him in surprise. He gives her a gentle smile in return. For a moment, she looks inexplicably happy, but once her senses return to her, her face falls and she backs away from him. Loki frowns.

LOKI

Is... something wrong?

DOREEN

I... I have to go...

LOKI

If... If I've said something wrong, I-

DOREEN

N-no! No, it's not... I... I'm sorry...

Before he can say another word, she runs away.

EXT. ASGARDIAN FOUNTAIN - MOMENTS LATER

Doreen splashes her face with water from a fountain on the other side of the courtyard, trying to pull herself together. Suddenly, Tippy-Toe runs up to her and squeaks at her.

DOREEN

Right... Parts...

INT. ODIN'S TREASURE ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Sneaking around corridors, Doreen finally finds the entrance to Odin's treasure room, which is protected by two guards.

DOREEN

(Whispering)

Okay, Tippy, you distract them while I sneak up on them from behind.

Tippy-Toe salutes, runs up to the guards, and starts playing with their armor while squeaking at them.

GUARD #1

What the-?! What is that?!

GUARD #2

It appears to be some type of squirrel...

Guard #1 tries flicking Tippy-Toe off his armor.

GUARD #1

Shoo! Begone, creature!

(He turns to the other guard.)

Do you think it's Ratatoskr?

GUARD #2

No, you fool! Ratatoskr has a horn!

Before they can say another word, Doreen strikes them both from behind. They try to attack her, but she expertly knocks them both out in one punch.

DOREEN

(to Tippy-Toe)

Let's go.

She and Tippy-Toe enter the treasure room, scanning the area for the parts. Doreen frowns in confusion when she sees Odin's fake infinity gauntlet, but is quickly distracted by the golden parts in a chest in the far end of the room.

DOREEN

Got it!

She tries picking up the parts, but as soon as she does, a shield of magic blocks the exit.

DOREEN

Oh, that's not good...

She hears footsteps and guards' voices rushing towards the treasure room. Moving quickly, she jumps up to the ceiling and kicks down the mechanism creating the shield.

DOREEN

Tippy, we gotta run!

Hiding in corridors, they slip past the guards and escape to the outside of the palace. Doreen grabs her tem-pad and opens a portal. Before she returns to the TVA, she catches a glimpse of Loki's silhouette in the distance walking around. For a moment, he seems to be looking for something, but he soon sits down on a bench, defeated, and looks at the other party guests in the distance. Squeezing her eyes shut, Doreen turns away and places a reset charge on the ground. As she and Tippy go through the portal, the reset charge disintegrates the area.

INT. TVA - DAY

Doreen and Tippy-Toe rush through the portal, causing Doreen to nearly run into Mobius, who raises an eyebrow.

DOREEN

I got the parts.

MOBIUS

I... can see that. Are you okay? What's with the getup?

DOREEN

I'm fine - There was a ball going on, so I just had to change to blend in...

(Beat)

I should... get started on fixing the locket.

Before Mobius can stop her, she rushes to another room.

INT. TVA OFFICE - DAY

Still in her ballgown, Doreen is busying inserting the parts into the locket. Mobius enters.

MOBIUS

I, uh... saw the footage of Asgard...

Doreen grits her teeth and says nothing.

MOBIUS

So... you... like Loki, huh? Gotta say, I wasn't expecting that...

DOREEN

I really don't want to talk about this.

MOBIUS

Does he know?

DOREEN

Uh, no, he doesn't, and I'd like to keep it that way.

MOBIUS

Well, I mean... I'd be lying if I said I thought you weren't an odd pair, but I guess I can see it...

Doreen clenches her jaw and ignores him.

MOBIUS

I just don't see why you're all upset over it...

Doreen slams the locket down.

DOREEN

Because! I'm gonna live, what? 80, 90 years max? Maybe a hundred if I'm lucky? That's a fraction of Loki's life! Why would he ever pay any attention to me?! If that Loki from the past knew I was just a human, he wouldn't have taken a second glance at me!

Realizing she is losing her composure, she tries to focus back on fixing the locket.

After a moment, Mobius sits down next to her.

MOBIUS

You know, I've studied Loki's entire life. I thought I understood everything there was to know about him. But you... you stumped me. If Loki knew he was going to die at the hands of Thanos, why did he trust you to be the one to bring him back to life? And then, it hit me... It's because he knows you're different. He knows that you know what it's like to be an outcast. He could sense it, just from meeting you, that you would be the first stranger he ever met that wouldn't see him as an enemy.

After a pause, Doreen shakes her head.

DOREEN

Even if I could believe that... it wouldn't matter. I'm never going to live long enough to be a part of his life.

(Beat)

MOBIUS

You know, when you've worked at the TVA for as long as I have, you tend to get a bit of a perspective on these types of things. Doreen... It's not about how much time we have... It's what we do with our time while we have it that matters. And you may not believe me, but I know you've made a difference in his life. You never doubted him, even when you had every right to. And that's always going to stick with him, even long after you're gone.

Doreen looks down and says nothing. After a moment, Mobius stands up.

MOBIUS

Well... make of it what you will. I'm gonna go ask the other agents if they've found any leads-

Suddenly, the locket clicks open.

DOREEN

It's fixed!

(She hands it to Mobius.)

Here, let that charge at a good power source for a little bit. Once it's at 100%, you should be able to see where Loki is.

MOBIUS

Okay, great. We'll get a task force ready to go get him.

DOREEN

Can I come?

MOBIUS

Ravonna would rather you stay here. She doesn't want a non-variant being put at an unnecessary risk.

Doreen's face falls, but she nods. Mobius exits. Doreen sits back at a computer and starts to look through files. She comes across a tab that reads "AGENT PROFILES", but when she tries to access it, she gets a message that reads "ERROR: RESTRICTED". Glancing over her shoulder, she checks to make sure no one else is in the room and begins typing.

INT. RAVONNA'S OFFICE - DAY

As Ravonna sits at her desk, she receives a holographic message that reads "WARNING: DATA BREACH DETECTED". She clenches her jaw.

INT. TVA OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

Doreen is reading files on her computer. As she continues to read, her eyes widen, with her expression growing more and more horrified. Suddenly, she turns back to the door.

DOREEN

Mobius?!

When there is no response, she tries to exit the room and follow after Mobius, but a gate of lasers suddenly blocks her path. As she glances at it, confused, Ravonna opens a portal into the room and strikes her from behind, knocking her out.

SYLVIE SMIRKS ‘CAUSE SHE KNOWS HE LYIN

So yeah, I took a lot of inspiration for the ballroom scene from the Laendler scene from The Sound of Music. I imagined Loki and Doreen’s relationship being a lot like The Captain and Maria, ‘cause I’m a huge sucker for the hardened grouch going soft for the innocent, lighthearted dreamer trope lol :P

I also listened to the song “When the Night is Over” by Lord Huron a lot when writing that scene. It’s very sad and haunting if you think of it as Loki’s POV after Doreen runs away.

Finally, I am officially dubbing the Doreen x Loki pairing “Dorki”, and I shall henceforth be tagging these posts as such!

@drawntothedarkside

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popquizhot-shot · 3 years

Text

You’re not him-Chapter 2

( How do I put links?)

Italics are reader's thoughts

"ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION ABORT THE DAMN FRICKING MISSION-"

"Um, Miss, who are you?" Loki's voice dragged you out of your thoughts.

"Uh-I'm I'm an agent! here! in the TVA!" you say a little too enthusiastically.

Eyeing you worriedly, Loki replies, " Oooook, now Mobius." he says, looking at the man, " where will I be staying?"

" Y/n will show you your quarters Loki, and you'll have your own cubicle, where you'll be taught by Miss Minutes about the TVA" Mobius replies walking Loki out of his office, shooting you a sympathetic glance.

Following closely behind, the reality if the situation suddenly hit you like a train. A variant of your your soon-to-be husband, who died, was here

Alive.

Should you tell him? Should you not tell him? All the sadness and depression which you tried so hard to push away and bottle up was surfacing, leaking out drop by drop.

"Y/n? Y/n! Earth to Y/n!" you heard Mobius say your name, his hand waving in front of your face, he was looking at you sadly, knowing what you were going through.

" Sorry yeah?" you say, a little out of breath.

" Take Loki to his room ok? The staff quarters." He said.

" Yeah! Sure! Please follow me Mr. Laufeyson." you say heading towards the staff quarters.

Loki looks at Mobius before following you.

After a while of walking in complete silence, Loki tries to make conversation,

"I don't believe I've gotten your name madam" he says.

" Huh, well I thought, you already heard it multiple times, given how many times Mobius had shake me out of my thoughts, I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you." Again.

" Heh yes, well I'm Loki-"

" of Asgard, Yes, I'm aware of that Mr Laufeyson, I bet everyone knows who you are." you say.

It suddenly dawned that you might have not made a good first impression.

" I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, It's just everyone's on edge today." Yeah! particularly me! Well what am I supposed to do when I see a variant of my dead fiancé? Kiss him? Tell him the truth? No you idiot!

" Well, I doubt they have a runaway variant everyday." he says chuckling lightly.

" You'll be surprised, Mr Laufeyson." you say smirking at him.

Heading to a door, you unlock it with a keycard and show him inside. It's a fairly large room, with a bed, a Tv, a mini-fridge, with an attatched bathroom.

" This is your room, and so is this keycard, your uniform is in the cupboard and your work begins tomorrow. Good Luck Mr.Laufeyson" you say smiling lightly while simultaneously crying and sobbing on the inside.

" Thank you, Ma'am, and please call me Loki." he says smirking at you.

"Only if you call me Y/n."

"Alright then, Thank you Y/n"

" You're very welcome Loki, I'll see you tomorrow." you say walking out.

As soon as you leave and the door closes, you immediately sprint to Mobius's office.

" OK, NOW WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO MOBIUS?! HUH? WHAT SHOULD I SAY, HI I'M ACTUALLY OR I WAS YOUR FIANCE WHEN YOU WERE ALIVE AND I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM!" you shout at him.

"Y/n Liste-" Mobius begins,

"No no, this is where you zip it!" your eyes glowing a shade of orange . That's all that would happen, the only indication that you had magic, you're eyes would glow when you were you were really emotional.

" Picture yourself in my place, you're getting married, you're fiance is killed before you're eyes, then after a few years you see them again, but they don't know you, how would you feel? Think about that Mobius!" you say, tears threatening to spill out your eyes.

"Y/n, I understand that, but we need him, he's the key to ending this, lots of minutemen, Jamie, Cassandra, Damon, Stefan! All dead! We need him, and we need him to be focused, after the mission is over, then you can tell him whatever you want, but please for the love of the time-keepers above, please don't tell him, you'll be accompanying us on missions from now on. You know Loki almost better than he knows himself an we need both of you. Please." Mobius pleads.

Sighing, you nod and try to glare at him, but ended up sadly smiling, you couldn't help it, you couldn't stay mad at Mobius, he was like an elder brother, or your best friend.

Smiling Mobius gets up and hugs you tightly, making you feel a bit better.

___

That night, you weren't able to sleep, thinking about every good memory you had when Loki-well OG Loki was still alive.

You and Loki baking, him dabbing frosting on your lips, before kissing it off, the boops, the damn boops that made you feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside.

When you first met- 2013

It was a normal day at Avengers Tower, you had just gotten back from a long undercover mission, you had heard about the new resident staying, God of Mischief.

Throwing your duffle bag on the carpet in the room and immediately showered, trying to scrubbing the blood and grime off, before you went downstairs to surprise the team.

Being a dramatic bitch, you decided to make an awesome entrance.

*Steve in the kitchen*

" Hey, Tony?" Steve said

"Yeah capsicle?"

"Why do I hear boss music?" Steve says looking worried.

Suddenly the door's are kicked open, startling everyone.

" I'm BACK bitches!!!" you say while holding your arms out.( like how Loki does it)

Shriek and laughs and smiles later, you gather your courage and go up to Loki,

"Hi, I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you." you say smiling,

" Loki, of Asgard, nice to meet you too." he says, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles.

And that was the day you fell for Loki Laufeyson.

"- and what happens when a nexus event branches past red line?" Miss Minutes asks Loki.

Loki ignores her, reading Mobius's jet ski magazine.

"Come on Loki!" she says frowning

Sighing Loki looks at her before saying, " It's when the Tva, can no longer reset the nexus event." smiling smugly.

" and the collapse of reality as when we know it." she finishes.

"Can you here me? Are you a recording, or are you alive?" he asks.

"Uh--sorta both!" she answers.

Mischievously, he rolls up the magazine and starts swatting at the mascot, causing her to go back inside the computer.

Looking at him, from you're cubicle, you can't help but smile softly, it had been years since you had last seen that beautiful smile and you're heart was melting.

From his cubicle, he spotted you and waved, eyes slightly softening, he liked your company, you put up with his bullshit and you were fun at the same time.

Waving back, you can't help but blush when you realize he caught you staring, your blush made him smile more.

Suddenly Mobius appeared behind him, talking to him and giving him a jacket, before he called you over, to talk about the mission.

" Y/n there's been an attack, we need you to come with us." he said hurriedly.

"We've grabbed enough temporal-aura to know it's our Loki variant, but we don't know which kind." Hunt says.

"The lesser kind, just to be sure." Loki butts in, making you snort.

He seemed pleased that he almost made you laugh.

" Ok, here's the deal, when we get out on the branch, we're not looking for a time criminal; we're looking Loki, a variation of this guy." Mobius says pointing to Loki, while projecting imaged of other Loki variants, each one getting weirder by the second.

"Apparently you won the Tour de France." you say nodding towards the hologram.

"Apparently." Loki says smiling.

"Not so slight, different powers, though powers include-Shape shifting, Illusion projection and Mind contr-" Mobius began.

"Duplication casting." You and Loki say in sync, turning to look at each other in surprise before looking back at the confused team.

"Illusion projection."

" No, they're two completely different powers." you began

"How Y/n?" Mobius asked.

" Professor Loki, would you like to answer that or would you like to answer?" you say, smirking at him

" You answer first." he says smirking back at you

"Illusion projection involved one depicting a detailed image from outside oneself which is perceptible in the external world." you began, Loki seemed impressed.

" While Duplication casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in it's present circumstance which acts as a true holographic mirror of it's own molecular structure. But you already knew that." Loki finished.

" Not bad, Laufeyson." you said.

"Not bad yourself." He smiled.

" O-ok take a breath. Noted. Ok let's go. Everyone gear up" ( sometimes, I'm not going to follow the lines well, cuz i don't remember them.

Stepping out of the dressing room, you felt amazing, it had been a while since you wore gear and you didn't realize how much you missed it.

You also drew the attention of a certain blue-eyed, raven-haired god.

He couldn't take his eyes off you and you didn't know whether to feel happy or awkward.

Both.

Both.Yes.

Both is good.

Happy and Awkward.

---------

After everyone was geared up, you headed to your destination.

Oshkosh, Wisconsin, Year 1985.

After reaching there, Loki went up to Mobius, and they started discussing things about the Tva, stuff you honestly did not give a crap about.

Headed towards a tent, Loki and Mobius were having a conversation. Loki seemed to trust Mobius and that's weird, he never trusted anyone except you.

"Ok stop, this is not your Loki ok, this is someone different, don't screw the relationship you have with this guy"

After all you went inside, you instantly spotted a TVA helmet.

Someone was taken hostage. Hunter C-20

"He's taking hostages." Hunter began

" He's never taken hostage before." Mobius mused.

" Maybe's he upping his game" Hunter said

"or he pruned her." you interuppted.

" A Loki couldn't have taken the jump on C 20." Hunt said.

" I think you underestimate-" Loki began

" Fan out, search for her and hurry up because we're at three units until red-line." Hunter ordered.

"Come on Loki." Mobius began. You follow him. Looking back, you see Loki staring at the helmet.

" Wait." Loki calls out, everyone stopping dead in their tracks and looking at him.

" If you leave this tent, you'll end up just like them" he continues.

As Loki explains, you zone out again, focusing on his eyes, ocean blue, with specks of green and gold, making them look like the most beautiful ocean ever.

"Did you know, you have beautiful eyes?" you say, stroking Loki's cheek while staring into his eyes.

" Oh, I have beautiful eyes?" he smirks

" The most beautiful." you whisper before kissing him softly.

Pulling away, Loki looks into your eyes.

"Darling, you complement my eyes, when yours are clearly superior!" He said

1, " But Loki, they're brown, they're so plain, what do you mean they're pretty.?"

"Darling, you're eyes are so beautiful, they remind me of a glass of ale, the mud that makes the earth, your eyes represent earthquakes, that bring the biggest of the biggest mountains to kneel for them. I love your eyes, they make me feel home."

( sorry about that, that's for people with brown eyes, cuz I have brown eyes, and I don't see them appreciated enough, pls ignore if you don't have brown eyes)

"Y/n, Y/n snap out of it! Come on, we're going back." Mobius said, walking out, you follow him, slightly smiling at the fond memory.

After you come back, you immediately head to your room, shower and take a nap.

#loki #lokixreader #lokilove #lokiseries #lokispoilers

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mst3kproject · 3 years

Photo

Frankenstein’s Castle of Freaks

This movie has a real all-star cast as far as us MSTies are concerned. There’s Rossano Brazzi, who was Phineas Prune in The Christmas that Almost Wasn’t; Edmund Purdom, whom we know as Griba from Ator, the Fighting Eagle; and Salvatore Baccaro, the leader of the cavemen in Starcrash. The film itself is absolute, irredeemable trash and I love it like my own garbage child.

We begin out of nowhere with a bunch of peasants beating a caveman to death. What? Where are we? When are we? Who are these people? Why is one of them a cavemen wearing a fur loincloth and the rest are just normal people in pants? Why are they beating him? Did he do something that pissed them off, or do they just hate him because they’re, like, anti-Neanderthal racists? What the fuck is going on? We will never really find out. We just cut straight to Dr. Frankenstein hauling the troglocorpse into his lab.

That’s how this movie rolls. Don’t bother asking questions, just try to keep up.

Count Frankenstein’s daughter Maria has returned to her childhood home, bringing along her fiancé Eric and her friend Krista, who has an unhealthy relationship with polka-dots. Krista is immediately fascinated by the Count and his work, and he with her in turn. It doesn’t take long for Krista to find out that Frankenstein is carrying on reanimation experiments in his basement, but that’s actually the least of the bullshit going on around here. There are more cavemen out there, but there’re also rivalries and love triangles among the inevitable gaggle of deformed assistants, and the local villagers are angry about a spate of grave robbing and determined to run the Frankensteins out of town. The ‘monster’ (I’m not sure it quite counts) is kind of an afterthought.

See, Hans the Butler hates Genz the Dwarf (even though it’s actually Kregan the hunchback who is fucking Hans’ wife) so he gets him fired, and Genz swears revenge on the whole Frankenstein household. Wandering in the woods, Genz meets and befriends a second caveman, naming him ‘Ook’ and teaching him how to rape women in the hopes that he will do violence to Maria Frankenstein. Ook, however, kidnaps Krista instead. At about the same time, Genz sneaks back into Castle Frankenstein to free the first caveman, Goliath, whom the Count has been keeping strapped to a table after bringing him back to life, and who has also fallen in love with Krista as the latter assists the Count with his work. Goliath goes on a murderous rampage, then follows Genz back to the cave where Ook is keeping Krista. Sure enough, this leads to a caveman-vs-caveman battle for the girl!

Man, I would love to see earlier drafts of this script, mostly because I’m dying to know whether some prior incarnation of it actually had anything to do with Mary Shelley’s book or even with previous Frankenstein movies. I mean, it starts with the servants digging up a corpse, and ends with a torch-and-pitchfork mob destroying the Count’s creation… the beginning and end of a Frankenstein movie are present. In between those, however, it wanders off on this bizarre tangent about the local cryptids. As it reached the screen, the only thing Frankenstein’s Castle of Freaks seems to have in common with its source material is the threat to the Count’s girlfriend, which was issued by the Creature in the original story. Technically, even the grave robbing and re-animating have nothing to do with Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus – the book never actually says how the Creature’s body was created. The idea of piecing it together from corpses originates with the Boris Karloff movie.

Let me describe some more of the stuff that goes on here, in order to give you the flavour of the experience. For starters, Salvatore Baccaro, playing Ook the caveman, is credited as ‘Boris Lugosi’ in the opening credits. The first time I saw this movie I snorted water up my nose when that popped on screen.

Later in the movie there’s a flashback to that first peasants-vs-caveman scene, and it answers none of the questions I listed above. Why are there cavemen in these woods? I dunno, there just are. What did the cavemen do to piss off the locals? I don’t know that, either… they may have been stealing livestock, I guess, but they don’t seem to have been a threat to the people until Genz taught them about rape. Kind of makes one wonder what happened to the cavewomen, since we never meet one and these guys don’t seem to know what women are, as illustrated by Ook initially thinking their nubile young captive is going to be dinner. Also, although there are two cavemen, they don’t know each other. Genz has to introduce them!

There’s a bit where Genz is hiding behind a clock to watch Maria and Eric have sex. The butler comes along and chews him out for it, sends him to his room, and then he stands there and watches them for a while.

In another scene, Maria and Krista go skinny-dipping in a mineral spring, and the longer it goes on the more the dialogue sounds like it’s going to break into lesbian porn. I am particularly fond of the exchange where Maria says, “don’t worry, this dress is designed to be easy to get out of,” and Krista, impressed, replies, “I’ll say it is!”

The subplot in which the butler’s wife is having an affair with the hunchback has no effect on the plot whatsoever. The butler never even finds out about it. There’s a scene in which they run off to the barn to slap each other and smooch, and then the movie forgets about it. Astonishingly, the same is true of the corpse the servants dig up early on. They exhume the body of a recently dead woman, Genz cops a feel and leaves some footprints at the scene so that the villagers can figure out who was responsible, and… that’s it. She doesn’t even hang around as a gratuitous zombie like the grave-robbed girl in The Atomic Brain.

According to Wikipedia, nobody will admit to directing this movie. Like many Italian films, the director used a pseudonym, and the cast apparently disagree on even such basics as his nationality. Some of them think he was Spanish, but Simonetta Vitelli, who played Maria Frankenstein, insists he was an American.

At the end of the movie, Ook is the first of the cavemen to be killed, and we get to see Genz weeping over his friend’s dead body. Then he and Krista hold each other as the mob closes in on Goliath. This is supposed to be a tender moment but it looks a lot like Genz (who is, you must remember, around four feet tall) is enjoying his faceful of boobs. Since all alternative love interests for Krista are now dead, maybe we’re supposed to think she ended up marrying Genz.

Finally, as Goliath’s body burns, Edmund Perdom intones, “there’s a bit of the monster in all of us, especially where there’s fear.” I’ll drink to that, my dude. ‘Twas beauty killed the beast. He tampered in God’s domain.

That probably is supposed to be the movie’s point. The villagers are depicted as suspicious, fearful, and quick to violence, while the cavemen seem to have been relatively peaceful types until Genz taught them how to rape. It’s very much the Homo sapiens who are the monsters there. Frankenstein’s servants are all assorted shades of horrible, from Genz the necrophile to the nasty cackling butler to the adulterous hunchback and cook. Count Frankenstein himself isn’t quite so overtly evil but it’s clear that he’s not very interested in the moral dimension of his work.

Even if that’s an intentional theme rather than just a pithy closing line, I don’t think anybody thought about it very hard. The rest of Frankenstein’s Castle of Freaks is too much of a mess. There’s no real plot, no identifiable protagonist, it’s sleazy and incoherent and at times it’s horrifyingly abelist… and yet, for reasons I cannot explain, it’s weirdly entertaining.

Maybe it’s just that everything in the film is so damn ridiculous. So much of what happens comes out of nothing and goes right back into it… a series of mind-boggling what the fuck moments that surprise the viewer over and over. The impression is that the writers are throwing horror concepts at the screen to see what sticks, but nothing does.

Maybe it’s that this is another villain-centric piece. You know I like those. I guess maybe Krista is the heroine? She seems to do the fewest horrible things over the course of the story, but she’s not a good person, either. She’s totally into the Count’s creepy reanimation experiments, and makes only a token protest about the idea of informed consent. Edmund Perdom’s Inspector character is one you’d expect to try and do something about these goings on, but he never does. Maria and Eric are only in the movie so it can have a sex scene.

Whatever the reason, the result is inexplicably charming. Between the easily distracted plot, the gratuitous breasts, the bad dubbing, the complete failure to either frighten or titillate, and the fact that it tries to tie itself to a lucrative franchise it really has nothing to do with, Frankenstein’s Castle of Freaks is almost the perfect example of a bad Italian horror flick from the 70’s.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #frankenstein's castle of freaks #tw: rape #tw: ableism #70s

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9worldstales · 3 years

Text

MCU Loki: Why so far it had been disappointing how the series has dealt with what the TVA had been doing

Right from when the series started I carried on the belief that what the TVA was doing was horrible, a mix between a Nazi regime and a fanatical cult down to the elements of police brutality, to the extermination and persecution of people they felt different and lesser, detrimental for their own self being all out of blind faith to something they were indoctrinated into.

I was expecting a serious analysis of this from the show since Waldron seemed to be so enthusiast of the TVA as it was his creature

“The TVA is just an entirely new world [with] a new cast of characters, and that’s what felt most exciting about the show: building a new corner of the MCU.’ What if this was the best show ever?’ I think that was literally my pitch. My pitch for the show was kind of a big, crazy, fun-time adventure.”

[‘Loki’ Writer Michael Waldron On Building ‘A New Corner Of The MCU’]

References to the TVA being bad needed to wait till Ep. 3 “Lamentis 1” and where just two lines:

Sylvie: So, naturally you went to work for the boring, oppressive time police. [Ep 3]

Sylvie: It must have started when I spent my entire life running from the omniscient fascists you work for. [Ep 3]

More than focusing on how horrid the TVA is, both sentences criticize Loki for cooperating with the TVA even if he was forced into it as he couldn’t escape, cooperating with them was his only way to survive, the implication being he should have taken the hero route and die instead than accept to join forces with the TVA.

Mind you, it could have been an interesting angle to look at. How people can embrace terrible things in order to survive. After all we saw Loki cooperating with Thanos under the promise if he were to fail recovering the Tesseract death would be a preferable option than failure.

THE OTHER: You will have your war, Asgardian. If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.

The series could have drawn parallels from both situations, either making a point one should never bent or that sometimes you can’t do anything else but bent because not everyone is born as a hero, or because you’re just waiting for a time in which you can oppose as sometimes getting heroically killed for your ideals can be also very unproductive.

But no, it’s not this series.

Loki will maintain he accepted to work with the TVA not because his other option was being killed (something that’s remarked more than once), but because he wanted to get to the Time-Keepers to steal their powers or something like that. If he’s lying to himself to cope with the situation that’s not a problem the series pose to itself as the series seem to embrace this explanation even if it made clear Loki would be reset if he didn’t cooperate.

Episode 3 also introduces the idea that people at the TVA works under a false belief. They think they were created by the Time-Keepers but in truth they are brainwashed Variants they kidnapped from their timelines.

Okay, it was another possible interesting route. Loki was a Frost Giant raised on the idea he was an Asgardian, there could be a parallel here… though one that, for the TVA, was less interesting.

The TVA members are enthusiastic believers. Most of them show no empathy toward the Variants, no pity. They belittle and humiliate them, handle them as beings with no rights, punish them for not obeying rules they didn’t know existed in the first place. Feelings rage from enjoying doing it to just doing it the way a boot steps over a ant to use a familiar metaphor.

The fact that in episode 4 B-15, after discovering the truth, will go: ‘I looked happy (in my previous life)!’ doesn’t really make me feel very sorry for her on an intellectual plan.

Yes, what the TVA did to B-15 was wrong, but what about what she did to others without a single remorse? Enjoying her work?

But, whatever, not everyone on the TVA seemed to belittle Variants, in ep 1 & 2 Mobius showed some form of pity for them, not enough it’ll stop him but enough we can think he didn’t enjoy what was being done to the Variants so knowing how he’ll react could be interesting, couldn’t it?

We reach Ep. 4 “Nexus Event”.

While we see the TVA did to a child version of Sylvie what they did to Loki and this time there isn’t any ounce of doubt that it wasn’t fun, this isn’t really used to throw shades at the TVA but to underline how Sylvie’s life was miserable.

Sylvie: I remember Asgard. Not much, but I remember. My home, my people, my life. The universe wants to break free, so it manifests chaos. Like me being born the Goddess of Mischief. And as soon as that created a big enough detour from the Sacred Timeline, the TVA showed up, erased my reality, and took me prisoner. I was just a child. I escaped. Stole a TemPad and I ran for a long, long time, which really sucked. Everywhere and every-when I went, it caused a nexus event. Sent up a smoke flare. Because I'm not supposed to exist. Until, eventually, I figured out where to hide. And so that's where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds. ( /Scoffs/ ) Now... that's where I'll die.

Thanks to the TVA, so it’s possible to make the connection that if Sylvie was in pain due to the TVA the TVA is a bad guy, but it’s again left vague.

In an episode that feel the need to have Loki define himself as a ‘horrible person’ and a ‘narcissist’, that calls him ‘an asshole and a bad friend’ using ‘a cockroach's survival mechanism’ when he actually says the truth and how he is a ‘conniving, craven, pathetic worm’ who should know he ‘deserve to be alone and always will be’ let’s not talk about how terrible the TVA is.

After all, according to the previous episode they’re just ‘boring, oppressive, omniscient fascists’. Nothing big.

And it’s nothing big, really.

C-20, B-15 and even Mobius, once discovering the truth are solely concerned about how the TVA lied to them, not of how they had been the TVA accomplices into wiping countless lives from existence.

Hunter B-15: I looked happy. What now?

Hunter C-20: "Calm down"? I'm a Variant. So are you. So is every single person in this place. I'm ending this.

Mobius: You know where I'd go if I could go anywhere? Wherever it is I'm really from. Yeah, wherever I had a life before the TVA came along. Maybe I had a jet ski. That's what I'd like to do. Just riding around on my jet ski.

They don’t care about what they had done with the TVA, they are okay with burning the place merely because the TVA has wronged them. But okay, maybe they need time to elaborate, to realize the implication of what they’ve done.

For C-20, who was reset, there’s no more time but…

Hunter B-15: Why am I locked in here?

Renslayer: You freed the Variant. You were disloyal to the TVA.

Hunter B-15: Disloyal?

Renslayer: Did you think you'd escape punishment for that?

Hunter B-15: Disloyal to who? You were in the Time-Keepers' chambers. They weren't real.

Renslayer: And why does that change anything?

Hunter B-15: That changes everything! The people need to know the truth.

Actually what the people need prior to that is to stop. Stop pruning other existences who’re exactly the same as their own. The biggest problem, the biggest CRIME isn’t that the TVA has done TO THEM, as, in doing so, it has at least spared their lives, it’s that they had killed countless galaxies and continue doing so.

So we move to Mobius.

I… I really don’t get what the series wants to do with Mobius. Although he wasn’t perfect, he seemed a decent guy in episode 1 & 2, one that wouldn’t enjoy hurting or scaring Variants without a reason. Yes he believed they needed to be eliminated… but didn’t enjoy doing it.

Yes, the way he ‘interrogated’ Loki in episode 1 was bad… but he believed he was doing only his work, that interrogation might have a point, some of the things he said weren’t meant to be just verbally abusive for the sake of it but were part of his ‘credo’ in which people had to follow the path of the sacred timeline and a side of him might have felt sympathy or pity for him. Although he knew it was risky he wanted to have faith in Loki.

Episode 4 tossed all that away with the worst interrogation scene possible. It contained gratuitous beating, psychological abuse/manipulation, derogatory comments, pointless questions while Mobius defined himself as Loki’s friend in the same episode. That scene has no purpose if not to beat and belittle Loki. What’s worse, when Mobius discovers the truth and goes to Loki, instead than asking him how he feels after such a beating he asks him what he’s doing… and I won’t dig into the rest of the conversation because it’s horrid.

Mobius’ ideas of apology for what he has done to his supposed friend is:

Mobius: You were right, about the TVA. You were right from the beginning. And if you wanna save her, you need to trust me. Can we do that?

Loki: Yes.

Mobius: Okay. You could be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good. I mean, just in case anyone ever told you different.

It was Mobius who told him differently. Okay, he has acknowledged Loki was right and he was wrong but not that he had unfairly had him beaten for God knows how long for no reason. But okay, maybe Mobius too needed time to internalize all that, so let’s look at episode 5.

Let’s face it, no, what Mobius did to Loki won’t come up again with Loki, Sylvie will merely tell Loki (and to us) Mobius ‘isn't so bad’ and that he cares about Loki. Loki will counter Mobius isn’t so good either but that’s why he gets along with him.

I… I’m not sure what the series is trying to do at this point with Mobius, all we get about what he did with the Variants in Episode 5 is this.

Mobius: All that time, I really believed we were the good guys.

Sylvie: Annihilating entire realities, orphaning little girls, classic hero stuff.

Mobius: Well, I guess when you think the ends justify the means, there's not much you won't do. By the way, you did some annihilating too.

Sylvie: I did what I had to do.

Mobius: Yeah, so did I.

Sylvie: You hunted me like a dog.

Mobius: I'm sorry about that.

Mobius admits they weren’t the good guys, which would be great if it wasn’t for the fact the moment Sylvie points out how he was dumb at not realizing it sooner because we finally are told that the TVA is responsible for ‘Annihilating entire realities, orphaning little girls’, Mobius defends his actions!

The ends justify the means, you did some annihilating too, I did what I had to do.

Hey, news flash, no, those aren’t excuses. This is not a game about who annihilated more make penitence and anyway, if this was the case, the TVA wins. You killed countless people and now you’re complaining you aren’t a hero? That others are bad too? That you were forced to do it when you were a willing believer that refused to question things even though Loki immediately pointed out how it all was dumb?

Mobius: Odin, God of the Heavens. Asgard, mystical realm, beyond the stars. Frost Giants. Listen to yourself...

Loki: It's not the same. It's completely different. No. It's not the same.

Mobius: It's exactly the same thing. Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose. Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real.

It took Sylvie remarking he hunted her like a animal to finally get him to apologize on something… and she’s the only one he apologizes to.

We don’t hear him apologizing to the other Loki Variants and this is his new glorious purpose:

Kid Loki: Mobius, assuming you do get back to the TVA, what exactly are you getting yourself into?

Mobius: I don't know. I'd like to let people know the truth.

Again it seems the biggest deal is the TVA lied to them and took them away from their lives, not that they pruned countless others without a care.

There’s no self reflection, there’s no horror for what they had done to the other Variants who were just like them.

When Kid Loki and Classic Loki say they’ll remain there because that’s their home he doesn’t counter ‘no, this isn’t and I’m sorry we let you believe this.’ It’s Loki who worries for them, pointing out the dangers of the place. Mobius, who’s either directly responsible or connected to the one responsible for them ending there and losing their whole world, says nothing.

So his sympathy toward the Variants, his pity… was it all fake?

Doesn’t he care anymore? This is the road the story decided to go with him?

Since Mobius has gained popularity into the fandom thanks to the first 2 episodes, to Owen Wilson and to those who shipped him with Loki, let’s strip him of what really made him great, the fact he didn’t enjoy mistreating the Variants and turns him into someone who doesn’t care?

What next, is he going to become the new villain?

Damn it, this series started with a full episode questioning what Loki did in New York, pointing out how Loki’s belief ‘he would make it easy for humans’ because ‘freedom is a lie’ is an idiocy, how he was just a murderer and asking him if he enjoyed hurting people and making him say that no, he didn’t that he was bad, that he was a narcissist and yadda, yadda, yadda, then it turns out Mobius annihilated entire realities, orphaning little girls, all because freedom is a lie and we’ve all to do what the Time-Keepers decided and let’s have the guy you call friend beaten up at random for no good reason and… and that’s what we get?

That he rebels to the Time-Keepers because they had dared to lie TO HIM about not having created him?

Is the series trying to make a point about how people at the TVA can accuse Loki of not being good but they’re actually worse because they did much worse and didn’t care at all about their victims?

Is it a critic to society, that find easy to criticize someone but can’t admit they do worse? Won’t even see they’re doing worse and would resent instead for any little slight done to them?

It would be an interesting theme… the problem is it doesn’t seem to be the goal of the series as it tends to overlook the TVA, its fascist behaviour and the annihilation of civilizations at the hands of willing, albeit indoctrinated members, to focus more on how the TVA wronged solely Sylvie (her complain about her being orphaned is more about HER being orphaned than about HER PARENTS having been killed) and the TVA members.

It’s fair to see the TVA members as victims… they are… but what about the other Variants who got erased? What about how the TVA members had been complicit in said elimination, enjoying it, gratuitously mistreating and belittling Variants before eliminating them?

Is it just up to us viewers realize it because the story isn’t going to do the work for us?

I don’t know. I hope the last episode will do something to fix this.

There’s still an episode after all and maybe I’m worrying over nothing, maybe someone, Mobius preferably because I want to go back considering him a decent guy, not perfect because nobody is perfect but decent, and I don’t like what episode 4 has done with him, will regret what was done to way too many people by the ones who were working at the TVA.

I’ll be fine if they still need to internalize what they had done... but I’d like for them to be done internalizing before the series ends because otherwise it’s just skipping over the whole topic.

So... I’ll try to keep hopeful. Maybe they won’t disappoint me.

#mcu loki #mobius m mobius #hunter b 15 #hunter c 20 #loki #loki laufeyson #sylvie #time variance authority #9 worlds study

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