#also i only mentioned scramble here because i think it does this concept better than regular p5 lmao. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theboredwritertm · 3 years

Note

"Look at you... goodness you're so cute" fic request with reader/Din, please? :D

His Reason

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None, I don’t think. Like one curse word.

Word Count: 1,935

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written a reader insert fic, so I hope I did alright with it. Thanks for the request, anon! I’ll admit I struggled to keep the story in the same tense in some parts because of the POV. But I had fun! And I love me some soft!Mando. This is also kind of based on an idea I had for a multi-part fic, so I might include it as part of that.

Summary: Our boy, Mando, has just broken the Bounty Hunter’s Guild code, but with you currently calling Nevarro home, he can’t stand the thought of leaving you behind.

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

Din had absolutely no business dragging you into this.

He was the one who had fucked up. All he’d had to do was deliver the acquisition, just like any other job he’d done before. Only this one hadn’t been like any other job. One look at the tiny, big-eyed baby and he knew he would never be able to leave it in the hands of a bunch of Imperials. Not in good conscience. And if he was being honest with himself, a conscience was one of the few things he had left; a standard to hold himself to that hadn’t been given to him or expected of him by somebody else.

So, he’d broken the code; a code he had based his entire career on, that he relied on for his reputation, which up until this point had been practically spotless.

And now he was in a world of trouble and was somehow making a beeline directly for your door, babbling baby still in hand, and the weight of a bounty now firmly on his head, dragging along whatever stain he had earned on that once perfect reputation to taint your own. Yet, still, knowing all of this, he continued on the well-acquainted back streets to your home.

He’d known you for years, agreed to sponsor you when you’d finally decided to join the guild, had even put some of his own earnings towards your fees, and yet here he was, on a direct path to making you lose everything and all because of him. His selfishness. His need to be near you.

You’d settled in a small place on Nevarro to be closer to work, to give you a taste of what a less-chaotic life might be like in between jobs that involved chasing down dangerous fugitives. It had always given him the perfect excuse to appear on your doorstep, dropping by after collecting a bounty or picking up some new job from Greef. Never stopping by without a reason. That would be too obvious. Too needy.

That would give him away.

Yet, from the moment he had broken the code and taken back the child, he had known it would never be safe to step foot on Nevarro again. And the thought of never being able to see you again drove him to your familiar neighborhood.

As he stopped at your front door, he thought of what excuse he might use now and looked down at the bundle in his arms. He didn’t know a thing about babies. He needed someone to help keep this thing alive. At least that’s what he told himself – but what made him think you knew any better? Relying on some innate maternal instinct to kick in? You’d never had to care for any younglings, either, and you’d never mentioned wanting any, though it wasn’t exactly a conversation he had brought up with you. That topic hit a little too close to home. Because the thought of you having a child, of the two of you starting a little family of your own, was something he had thought about often in the rare, quiet moments he’d shared with you on jobs, when he’d allowed himself to daydream when you thought he might be asleep.

When you opened your door and smiled up at him like you always did when you saw him, he couldn’t deny the relief that flooded over him. Being near you always made him feel safe, a ridiculous concept given the size difference and his greater experience with weapons and fighting – he’d been the one to train you, after all – but he thought that maybe it wasn’t a physical kind of safety that you gave him. Yes, he was sure you’d lay your life down for him without hesitation, as he would do the same for you, but you made him feel safe in the same way the Mandalorians had when they’d lifted him through the doors of the smoking basement all those years ago. It was a feeling that everything was going to be alright. That he was looked after. That he might just be okay.

It didn’t take long for your eyes to drift down to the stolen package in his arms, but before you could so much as utter a question, he was pushing you back as he forced his way inside your home. With one quick glance down the street, he pushed the button to slide the door closed behind him.

“Uhh…what the hell’s going on, Din?”

You listen to the modulated sigh that huffs through his helmet.

Right. The excuse. He had been too caught up in thinking about you to even remember to come up with one.

He finds himself caught now between the usual pleasure of the way you say his name and the scramble for an acceptable excuse for bringing trouble your way. He looks at you, at the familiar curve of your face and your soft features, even as you frown up at him with eyes full of concern, and he’s suddenly reminded of his ‘why’; of his own personal reason.

“Something’s happened. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

Even as the words tumble out of his mouth, he knows he’s asking too much.

“Excuse me?” You blink up at him, confused and taken aback by what had almost sounded like a command.

His visor turns towards you in what you can only assume is a meaningful stare, but without seeing his face there’s not a lot of meaning to read. Yet, you had spent enough time with him to read his gestures. He means what he says. You don’t think there’s ever been a time where he hasn’t. In his arms the child coos. You glance down at it, getting a proper look for the first time. You’d never seen anything like it before.

“What did you do?” you ask quietly.

There’s no judgment in your tone, not that he had expected any, but there was a sharp curiosity as you bent down for a better look at what he was holding. Completely out of instinct, he hands the child over to you, surprised to find that you take it without hesitation. He watches you for a moment as you hold the baby up and pull it in close, and smiles to himself beneath his helmet at the way your face lights up when it gurgles happily.

You hug the child in close, sitting it on your hip in a way that feels oddly natural. “Look at you…goodness, you’re so cute.”

“The Imperials wanted it,” Din finally confesses.

The horrified look you direct at him is like a punch to the gut; confirmation of his own wrongdoings.

“You took it to them?”

There it is. The judgment he’d been dreading. Or maybe he was projecting, haunted by his own guilt at letting a child fall into the hands of people so evil. He fumbles for another excuse.

“I took it back.”

You stare at him, then your gaze drops and he wonders what you’re thinking, if he’s suddenly changed in your view; morphed into something monstrous beneath the armor. You had never seen him with it off, as was The Way, but he had taken it off in your presence many times before. He glances down at the strip of cloth you always keep tied around your forearm – a simple bit of clothing to the view of others, but to him a considerate accessory for, and constant reminder of, the many rendezvous you’d shared that never failed to escalate into a tangle of needy limbs and panting mouths.

“What did they want with it?” you ask, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“No idea.”

You notice the way his voice softens, his slightly hunched posture like he’s waiting for another blow. Your rejection, you realize. You try to slow things down in your mind and piece it all together.

“You’re on the run,” you guess, not a question but a calm realization.

He gives a single, silent nod.

“If you come with me, now, you will be, too. You’ll be forfeiting –”

Your sharp snort cuts through him and feeds a little more into that ever-growing guilt. You’re shaking your head at him and the rejection hits him harder than he was expecting, enough to make him realize the true gravity of his hopes.

“Whatever I’m forfeiting,” you tell him, “I gave it up the moment you showed up, Din.”

He had pictured all the ways that this could go wrong, and admittedly this reaction wasn’t one of them. He fights the urge to turn and leave, to take it all back with him out that door, to never bother you again. The thought is painful enough to keep him grounded. He remains where he is.

“Six years ago,” you continue, and he looks up, hopes renewed. “When we did our first job together. I think that’s when I knew what I’d be giving up.” You stare up at him, face soft yet serious, as you sway the baby on your hip as naturally as a nursemaid might. “For the longest time, I thought I wanted a life of peace, after everything I went through. Then you came into my life and I was willing to let go of that dream. Because I knew that if I chose you, we might not get that. And I’m okay with that.”

The room is silent. Even the child looks between the two of you, as if feeling the weight of the words being spoken, even if he can’t understand them. Din isn’t even sure that he does. He knows what he wants them to mean, but can’t allow himself to believe it just yet.

You step towards him – this soft, funny man who still managed to take you completely by surprise, and who you had slowly but completely fallen in love with, even if it had taken months initially for the internal armor to come down and let you in. Your hand comes to rest on his chest, right above where his heart beats under layers of beskar, tunic, flesh, and bone, and he wonders if you can feel how hard it's beating beneath your touch – how hard it always beats when he’s around you.

“You’ll never be able to come home again,” he warns you, looking around the space you had managed to make yours over the last few years. You chuckle and he looks back at you, and the gentle look in your eyes makes him wonder if he’s ever wanted to kiss anybody so badly in his life.

You shrug and look around at the simple dwelling – a house that had proven to be a convenient place to stay, but had never quite felt like home. You realize now, in his presence, why this is. “This place? It was getting a little cramped anyway.”

His own laugh rumbles through the modulator. “If you think this is bad, wait until you’re on the ship.”

“I’ve been on the Crest. It’s not so bad. Better company.” You grin up at him, and though you can’t see it, you sense that he’s doing the same, both struck by a sudden, inexplicable feeling of hope. He reaches out, finally, and brushes your hair back, melting in a totally un-Mandalorian-like manner when you lean into his touch.

He will think on this moment in the hard times to come, reaching back for a perfect memory to keep him grounded. But he won’t need it often. With you by his side, he feels certain he can make it through just about anything.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagines #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagines #din djarin #the child

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bedbellyandbeyond · 3 years

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Only Vampires

(Story Post)

Nari wasn't sure why he trusted these two vampires, but he wanted to know what they knew and so he followed them to their home. They didn't live more than a block north of where the library stood. They must've lived there a long time to afford such a big house, but then again, he had no idea what the housing market was like here. Either way, any active and diligent vamp over 100 years old could secure themself considerable wealth if they tried. Nari himself hadn't focused on capital during the majority of his life though, but he still did well for himself. The front doors of the house were very big, with stained glass windows, but Wesley and Everett took him around to the back door which was average sized and let no light in. This wasn't an issue right now as it was an hour to midnight, but he guessed that any daytime travel came through here, so they'd grown accustomed to it.

Inside was a small mudroom with another door at the other end. Nari waited for Everett to take off his shoes before he removed his own because wasn't sure what the traditions were in this country, but he was only further confused when Wesley took his shoes off but Everett kept them on. “Um, shoes on or off?” Nari had to ask. Wesley wacked Everett's leg with his loafer. “Shoes off, please.” Nari was relieved and did as told. “Alright.” “I'm not sure why we adopted that,” Everett said, reluctantly removing his footwear and then promptly putting on a pair of slippers. “My family always wore their shoes inside, his family wore shoes inside… Not to mention, it doesn't matter at all what Wesley wears.” “It's for our housemates,” Wesley said. “We have several housemates from across the world, you'll find Nari. The general consensus has been shoes off. We do our best to be accommodating.” He then proceeded to pull out a set of wheel slippers and socks and maneuvered them onto his chair. Nari thought for a second and then raised a hand. “I hope you don't think I need somewhere to stay. I'm well established.” “No, no,” Wesley said. “We just like to help anyone when it comes to library matters. As you may have noticed, it is not very accessible to all vamps of all shapes, abilities, and colours. We like to help anyone find the knowledge they need.” Nari nodded. “I see. So you steal the books for them.” “I told you, we borrow them,” Everett said as he led them through to the main hall. “Evie does think of himself as a modern-day Robin Hood of Knowledge, though,” Wesley said. The main hall was a lot more modern than Nari expected for a house apparently full of vampires. It was open concept with a lovely kitchen with granite counter tops. Further on was the living room and stairs, both up to the next floor and down to the basement. An elevator had also been installed beside the stairs for easier access to all floors. Nari’s hosts took him down to the basement, which was set up as a games room and study. There was pool, and darts, and even a pinball machine on one side. Some lounge chairs, a sofa, and a set of bookshelves on the other. There, they found another pair of vampires, one with her nose in a book, the other passed out on the couch, an open book on his chest. “Ah, glad some of you are here,” Wesley said going over to the reading nook. “Inaya, please meet Nari. We met him at the library.” The conscious vampire got up and smiled. She wore a hijab and had big round eyes framed with detailed eyeliner. She offered a hand to Nari. “Nice to meet you. Are you looking at a room?” “No, no, I’m just getting a little extra help with my research,” Nari said shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve never met, well, a vampire like you.” “A hijabi vampire?” Inaya chuckled. “Me neither. That’s why I’m here.” “To find more?” Nari asked. “No, to learn about being a vampire,” Inaya said. “I didn’t know anything about them really until I was turned, and I didn’t have any other vampires around to teach me. Figuring out how to be a vampire and muslim at the same time is difficult. Blood is haram, you see.” “Ah.” Nari nodded. “Have the books been helpful?” “Some, yes. Wesley seems to know how to find me good reads,” Inaya said. “I’ve tried entering the library on my own, but it’s always been a hassle. They always find some excuse not to let us in.” “I understand,” Nari said rollimg his eyes. “It's a different excuse each time.” Everett went over and kicked the end of the couch to wake its occupant. “Rise, Jeremiah! Meet our guest!” Wesley frowned. “Evie, let the boy sleep. He's probably been studying tirelessly, the poor kid.” It was too later however and the sleepy vampire stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The book he had been reading fell off his chest and onto the floor. The bang made him curse and scramble to pick it up. “Shit, it better not be busted… These old ass books…” “Language, Jeremiah. You know the rules,” Everett scolded. “Shit, sorry, Ev,” the vampire huffed. “Not my fault you woke me up.” “I have half the mind to discipline you,” Everett said, crossing his arms. “Yeah, that’ll look good, you pasty old Brit beating my black ass…” the young vampire mocked. He noticed Nari. “Who’s this little mosquito?” Wesley put a hand on Nari's shoulder. “This is Nari. We're helping him in his research.” The other got up and offered a hand to the newcomer. “It's Jez, but these old farts insist on calling me by my whole name like they're my damn mother or something.” Everett huffed. “Seriously, if you don't straighten out your language, I'll—” “The entire concept of vulgar language is inherently racist,” Jez interrupted, his entire diction changing just to prove a point to old Everett. “My use of swearing is not abusive, but instead cathartic, emphatic and idiomatic, forms of swearing that are not meant to offend anyone. For you to tell me what words I can and cannot say is a blatant form of oppression and reduces my abilities to cope with pain or misfortune.” Everett frowned, his lips pursed. “Fine. But could you tone it down just a bit?” “No.” Wesley came up behind Everett and patted his back. “Relax. We're all adults. Anyway, where's Paolo?” “He's in his room,” Inaya said. “Probably working.” “Ah, okay. Nari can meet him later,” Wesley said approaching the coffee table. From out of nowhere, he pulled out a book and offered it to Inaya. “I found an Arabic tome with stories from Turkey in it. I’m hoping it might help you.” “Oh! Maybe!” Inaya took the book gratefully. “I appreciate it, Wes!” “Where did you pull that book from?” Nari asked, a bit dumbfounded. “The library?” Wesley said, a little confused by the question. “No, I mean… I didn't notice it on your person before,” Nari said. “Oh! It's pocket magic,” Wesley said. “Easier than carrying them around.” “Pocket magic is some real basic level shit,” Jez said, eyeing Nari. “If you don't know that, what abilities do you have?” Nari shook his head. “…I never learned vampire magic. Well, except a blood purifying spell I found the other day.” Everett placed his hands on Nari's shoulders. “Oh dear, so you've just been going about your life with all the cons and none of the pros to the whole vampire thing? Sounds miserable!” Nari frowned. “I didn't know I could learn any of it…” “You absolutely can!” Everett said. “We will show you the basics.” “Honestly, it's fine…” Nari said. “I don't plan on sticking around long, and my partner has enough magic for the both of us…” “Your partner knows magic but you didn't know you could learn it?” Inaya asked. “They didn't try to teach you?” “He’s not a vampire,” Nari said. “He doesn't know what I'm capable of doing as one.” “What is he, then?” Jez asked. “A dragon?” “No, he's a wizard,” Nari said. “A wizard?” Wesley inquired, his voice a little concerned. “Like, a human wizard?” “Uh, yes,” Nari said. “The magic isn't the same, though he's convinced he can learn vampire stuff…” Everett started shaking his head. “Do you always engage in romantic relationships with humans?” “Yes.” Nari frowned, reading the negative energy coming from his acquaintances. “You say that like it's bad. Are you going to tell me we're not supposed to do that? It's taboo or something?” “No, it's fine! I mean…” Everett put his hands on Wesley's shoulders. “He was unturned when I fell for him…” “But we weren't trying to reproduce, that’s for sure,” Wesley said. He placed a hand on Nari’s arm. “It’s no wonder you’ve been having trouble… You can't have children with humans. It never works.” Nari clenched his jaw. “That's not…My information came to a 1-in-8 chance that a vampire can complete live birth.” “It's more complicated than that,” Everett said, pulling out one of the books be grabbed. “It's likely the one successful time out of eight, their partner was another vampire. The odds are much better with two vampires. Like, 1-in-3.” He opened to a page that displayed a large family tree on it. “Any time in history that a vampire successfully completed a pregnancy, both parents were vampires. Any pairings with children from one unturned and a vampire were from before the vampiric parent had turned. Or, there has also been the occasional time a vampire sired a child with an unturned person, but it is rarer.” Nari frowned and sat down on the couch. “But…I… Isn’t there any magic that can help?” Wesley shook his head. “Not that we've found. Your best bet is to try with a vampire.” “But I don't want a child from someone else…” Nari said. “I want one with Diederich.” “I'm surprised you even date unturned,” Jez commented. “It's sad stuff watching humans grow old and die all the time…” “Diederich isn't just any human, he's immortal too,” Nari said. “He knows really powerful skills and spells.” Jez rolled his eyes. “So, easy fix. Just turn him.” Nari shook his head. “No, I can't do that.” “I could teach you,” Everett said. “Or I could do it.” Nari glared. “No, I don't want to turn him. I wouldn't do that to someone.” Everett sighed. “Nari, I don't know what to tell you. Your goal is to have a baby with your partner. Both of you need to be vampires for that to happen. That's all there is. We don't have any other advice.” Nari looked down at his hands, his eyes brimming with tears. “So, all those times I tried… Complete waste of time...” Wesley rubbed Nari’s shoulder. “You didn't know…” He looked to Everett. “Would you give us a moment? All of you.” “Of course, love,” Everett said, kissing Wesley on the forehead. “Come along now, children.” “We are not your kids,” Jez groaned as he got up reluctantly and followed Inaya and Everett upstairs. Once they were alone, Wesley sighed and rubbed Nari's arm. “Before you turned, did you have any children?” Nari slowly and sniffled. “Yes… My son, Tae-seok. He was just a baby when I turned…” “Is he alive?” Wesley asked. “No… He passed away around the turn of the millennia…” Wesley sighed. “When did you start trying for another baby?” “We tried for several years when Tae-seok was young… But his father, Eun-young, died in a factory accident when Tae-seok was still a child. I didn't try again until well after my son passed away too.” “With your current partner?” Wesley asked. Nari shook his head. “No, my previous relationship. It was an accident… But I wanted it to work out. I had a little hope.” “I'm really sorry, Nari,” Wesley said. “It must be difficult to hear about the circumstances of your pursuit… And I'm sorry about Evie. He thinks turning people will always fix everything. It doesn't.” “But he's right though… If Diederich were a vampire, we'd have a much better chance,” Nari said spreading his hands. “If he were turned, we could try…” Wesley shook his head. “I can tell, you don't want to do that. It sounds like your experience with being a vampire has been more negative than positive and you don't want to subject someone else to that.” “I don't. Diederich is… He’s so lovely, and he's happy…” Nari said. “I don't want to take that from him.” “I understand. It isn’t easy. I don't always love being a vampire either… And I certainly wouldn't make that decision for someone else,” Wesley said. “You do realise that if you did manage to give birth to a baby, you'd be choosing a life as a vampire for them too?” Nari blinked. “Yes, but… I…” He paused. “…With Diederich, since he's unturned, I thought that they might not be…” “Well, even if you could reproduce with a normal human being, you’re a vampire. Your kids would be vampires.” Nari grit his teeth. “…I guess I just…you know, if I could have a baby again, I didn't care what they were… But now just saying it, that’s sounds so incredibly selfish… To subject my own child to the exact same curse I've suffered for their entire life…” Wesley rubbed Nari's knee. “I think you need to think about your situation and talk to your partner. Really work out what path makes the most sense for both of you, and any possible children in the mix. What's best for everyone is what is important.” Nari nodded slowly. “Yes… I just want to be with Diederich… I should go…” Wesley checked his watch. “Where are you staying? Evie can drive you over.” “It's okay, I can walk…” “No way, this time of night, any drunk vampires tumbling out of a bar will want to pick a fight, and while I'm not saying you can't hold your own, you don't know much magic and vampires around the library know their stuff.” Nari sighed and told Wesley his hotel. “I do appreciate you guys trying to help me… You’re honestly the nicest vampires I've ever met.” “Aw, it's nothing,” Wesley said going to the elevator. “Each of us understands the difficulty of being accepted in the vampire world. But we've been very lucky and those who have should give.” “So, is this sort of a boarding house for vampires using the library?” Nari asked. “Sort of… We keep the rent super cheap though because the house was paid off many, many years ago. Our housemates just split utilities. Evie and I cover the taxes and insurance.” Wesley smiled. “If you ever need somewhere to stay, we'll be here. First month is free for long term. Of course, we won't charge you if you just want to come over and visit.” Nari nodded. “That's more than generous, thank you.” They rode the elevator together and met with Everett at the back of the house. “Good talk?” Everett asked, spinning his car keys. “Yes, I think so,” Wesley said. “Inaya and Jeremiah are back in their rooms, then?” “Yeah.” Everett unlocked the door. “Alright, Nari. We won't keep you any longer than you'd like. Wes said you needed a ride, yes? Come along.” Nari blinked. “When did he tell you?” “Come on, now.” Everett placed his hands on his hips. “You really do need a rundown on basic magic. You could teach toddlers mind connection.” “I really don't know anything, then…” Nari frowned following him out. Wesley waved as they left. “Hope to see you soon!” Nari waved again before going to the garage with Everett. “You should consider coming back tomorrow night,” Everett said, unlocking the car. “Jeremiah will teach you everything you need to know.” “I might take him up on that. At least I'll have gotten something out of this trip.” “Well, there you go. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” “Hm… Yes, I suppose.” “Oh, and you still have to meet Paolo! He’s Asian like you too! Wouldn’t guess from his name though, would you?” “You really don’t think before you speak, do you?” “Hey, respect your elders.” “Sorry, grandpa.”

#lore #Nari #Everett #Wesley #Jez #Inaya #vampire

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spideymarvelws · 4 years

Text

one true love.

Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!GN!Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary : Peter will go threw everything to keep you safe, protected and most importantly always his. He saw you as the person he observed and watched for the past few months, the sweet, kind girl that stopped to pet stray dogs or smiled at everyone who needed it. But somethings he never took notice of, some things that would’ve made him love you even more.

Warnings : THIS IS A DARK FIC! I am not responsible for your media consumption but if any of these topics or just dark fics on a whole trigger you please do not read! cursing, murders, blood, violence, mention of sexual assault, death, stalking, graphic description of a dead body, homicide, fluffy if you squint, use of guns and knifes.

A/n : If any description throughout the one shot does not pertain to a gender neutral reader please let me know :-) also if i missed anything in the warnings.

Word Count : 1.8k

...

The definition of love is something that never stays constant as its experienced from person to person. Even to that very being, the meaning changes every year, month, day even hour, from what that individual may feel in that moment. In some cases, it may be the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to someone, changing there life in ways they could never even imagine.

In other cases, it could break a person whole, bit by bit, tearing down at who they once were. Emotions like guilt and regret, jealously and remorse running through there veins, thinking that love is only made to destroy the ones foolish enough to believe it exists.

Then you have the rare case of love at first sight.

Now, some may argue that this concept that only seems to show up in movies and TV shows is complete bullshit, that it doesn’t exist.

“You can’t look at someone and automatically know they’re the one for you,” Ned said to him one day, pulling his head out of his chemistry book,“What if they’re an awful person? What if they do something constantly that you don’t like? Seriously, looking at someone and knowing there the one is just basing It of there’s looks or something,”

Peter didn’t respond, afraid that he might lash out at the only friend he’s managed to keep throughout the years. He thought about the last statement a lot, wondering if all he ever really felt was the physical attraction.

But no, that pull you feel when you look at someone for the fist time, watching there movements with whatever tasks they’re doing at the moment, even if it’s nothing at all. Falling entranced with there every gesture, taking in every curve and colour, memorising every feature.

It wasn’t just looking at their appearance, it was taking note of how they moved, how they acted, how they laughed, god there laugh is like music to your ears. It was watching and observing, that’s what Ned missed in his little speech.

Then of course you have the people who don’t believe in love, which was something he could understand.

Before he saw you.

For Peter, love was not a strong enough word to describe what he felt for his one true love. The way you made his heart stop with one smile, his face red with one touch, his hands sweat with one word. In your eyes, he found his entire world.

And he destined for you to be his.

The countess nights he spent dreaming of you, laying besides him. He longed to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to mark you with his love. He shocked himself with the self control he had to maintain around you especially when it came to the people you hung out with.

The amount of times he wanted to run out of hiding and crack the skull of some idiot who decided to talk to you or dare even look at you in any suggestive matter. The thought make him gag every time, but he’d like to think that you already knew that he was looking over you, that you belonged to him. That’s why you never took any of them on, that’s why you turned them down.

He couldn’t blame them for trying, but they had no chance since they would be gone the next day.

Which is why he hoped you could forgive him for what he did, for what he had to do.

The body laid in the back seat, wrapped tightly in a bag. There was no blood spilled, sadly, only the indents of his hands on the base of his neck.

It was fun, watching the life drain from his eyes as he listed off every bad thing he’s ever done, mainly to you, but he threw in a few more ex’s just to spice things up a bit more. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed him, maybe he should’ve just let him walk free with the threats he shoved down his throat.

But then he had to call you a bitch, from that point he knew his life would just be a waste of oxygen.

Peter let out a chuckle at the memory, at the fake confidence he showed, struggling in his hold. It truly was a sight to behold, one that made his realise why he enjoyed being Spiderman so much.

Seeing people suffer for there terrible mistakes and knowing that he had the power to punish them.

The drive was long and quiet, one of his hands was on top the steering wheel, tapping to an imaginary beat while the other settled on the arm rest. The streets were rather empty at this hour to Peter’s surprise, making him smirk that he would get away with the murder.

Maybe he could’ve stolen a better car.

But he was doing everyone a favour and he was keeping you safe.

He took a right into a dense forest, his car moving with with the bumps on the course road. When he felt like he was deep enough down the path, he hit the breaks, cringing at the squeaking noise it made.

Regardless, the exited the vehicle, opening the trunk to grab a shovel. He knew that there were a number of more efficient ways to get rid of the body, one that could’ve used his position in the avengers to his advantage, but his old techniques started to grow repetitive.

It didn’t take him as long as he thought though, the hole he dug was around eight feet deep and hopefully the right size to fit the body. Dropping the shovel to the floor, he walked back to the car not to worried about his surroundings knowing that no one ever visited this part of the forest.

He grabbed the body from the back seat, throwing it over his shoulder carrying it to the hole and tossing it inside without care. He smiled at the bag as he filled the hole a quarter of the way.

“Time to find an animal now shall we?” He whispered to himself, pulling out the hunters knife from the back of his pants along with a flash light, “Just incase,”

As he walked threw the trees and bushes, keeping look out for any movements he heard a gun shot cut threw the air. He gripped his knife, walking carefully towards the noise.

Oh how he was sorry for the poor lad that decided to be here this night, but he had too do what had to be done.

Suddenly he was sent back by a force jumping on his back. He fell to the floor with a thud, his body forcefully turned over with a gun pointed directly between his eyes.

“Y/n?” He froze, his breath becoming heavier at how close your face was to his. Now he understood why his spider senses didn’t alert him, because you weren’t a threat to him, you could never be.

“Peter,” you whispered, lowering your gun, scrambling off of his body much to his dismay, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He asked back, still shocked at you proximity to him, talking with him, breathing the same air as him.

“You answer first,” you said quickly.

“No you,” Peter said back, crossing his arms.

“I-,” you started, but looked down, trying to hide your bashfulness, but it only drew attention to the blood dripping from your hair.

“Baby,” Peter whispered, walking up to you to grab your face, any sense of self control left his body after seeing the state you were in, “What happened,”

Peter thought it was some attack on you and judging by the amount of blood covering your skin, you had to defend yourself. He expected you to look up with the innocent eyes he’s studied for so long, finally getting a chance to get a closer look.

But instead, you raised your head with a sinister smile gracing your feature, you stepped out of his embrace, taking his hand in yours.

“Let me show you,” you whispered, in an almost sultry voice sending shivers down his spine.

You pulled him to a tree, taking the flashlight held in his fingers and pointed the light to the base of the trunk. Peter stared confused at the sight, walking forward slightly to inspect the slumped body. It was tied down tightly with rope around the waist and mouth, cutting threw the skin deeply showing signs of struggle. There was multiple stab wounds in the stomach, words carved in there legs that he couldn’t make out with the dirt and blood covering them. He did however notice his name on her forehead and the bullet wound in the middle.

The streaks of blond in the hair falling in front of the face told him that this body belonged to Gwen Stacy.

“When she started talking to you I could see how uncomfortable she made you,” you started, looking to the floor while playing with the dirt with the sole of your shoe, “I- I didn’t like how close she got to you, and- and since she bothered you too I- I thought we were doing us both a favour,”

Peter stood back up, looking back at you. He wondered how somebody so insane could hide it so well. Even with the evidence painted over you, he still saw you as incapable of ever doing anything like this.

The thought made him laugh loudly, walking up to you and grabbing your face.

“I fucking love you,” he laughed more, making you smile brightly as he put his forehead against yours, “You’re perfect I swear,”

You laughed along with him, putting away your gun in your pack pocket, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’ve- I’ve so long for this,” you giggled, pressing your nose into his neck, basking in his sick scent, “But, what are you doing here?”

Peter giggled as well, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Same reason at you my love,”

Your eyes widened, you placed your hand on his cheek, bringing his lips back into yours. It was longer and sloppier than the first, both of you getting use to the movements but also desperate for the feeling.

Peter backed you up against another tree, pressing his body against yours, his deluded mind not reregistering how fucked up the situation was, but he loved every second. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking and bitting at the skin, drawing out delicious moans from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you sputtered, biting your lip and tangling your fingers in his hair, both of you not paying mind to the blood, sweat and dirt, “I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long Peter,”

“Me too baby,” he said, tightening his hold on your waist, “Me too, now how about we hide these bodies together hmm?” He tickled your sides lightly, grinning at the giggle you let out, “Then I’m gonna take you home and make up for lost time,”

...

--->Interested in more? check out my other Dark!Peter fic<---

Hearts, reblogs and comments always appreciated 🥰

Taglist: @jadegill @joyleenl @ietss

#peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x gn!reader #dark!peter parker x dark!reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #yandere!peter parker

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medicallyinevitable · 3 years

Text

Medically Inevitable

Chapter 15:- Hopeful Happenings

Characters:- Arielle Valentine, Ethan Ramsey, Ines Delarosa, Kyra Santana

Pairing:- Ethan Ramsey x Arielle Valentine

Warnings:- Slight mentions of cancer

Word Count:- 1700+ words :)

General PoV:-

As the sun shines bright in the late morning, Arielle parks her car and heads straight towards Edenbrook’s locker room, a to-go cup in hand from Starbucks instead of Derry Roasters not wanting any chance to bump into Dr. Ramsey, despite knowing that he’s her boss. Making her way to the nurses’ station, she picks up her charts and textbooks and heads toward the cafeteria.

Arielle’s PoV:-

You keep at your textbooks, scouring the pages for anything that could explain Nigel's symptoms, and the tidal wave of self-doubt doesn’t help either. You let out a sigh, "Maybe Dr. Ramsey's right. Maybe I really don't belong here..."

"Mind if I join you?" A cheery voice snaps you back to reality.

You turn around to find Kyra. Dread fills in you as you see her. "Kyra, what are you doing here? Is your cancer back? Is something wrong?", you start asking.

"Woah! Dial down the doom and gloom there, Dr. Sob Emoji. I'm in remission." Kyra beams.

"What?! Oh my god congratulations! I’m so happy for you!" You envelope her in a warm hug which almost melts all your tension away.

"Just had another check-up. Will be coming a lot for those," she catches you up with her remission plan as you two sit. "No offense but I definitely look in better shape than you!"

"Ugh I know. I'm exhausted.” And just like that, all the tension fills your mind as you give her the details. " My shift ended like five hours ago, but instead of going home I am sitting here and reading till my eyes bleed."

"You should probably get that looked at." Kyra's face morphs into something serious but genuine as she continues.

"Look, I don't want to be that cancer survivor… but it did make me realize that life is too short." You give her a sad smile knowing how painful it must have been for her.

"We only get so many chances you know? But maybe you need that lesson more than I do," she continues after pausing for a moment.

"Is it that obvious?" You raise your brows.

"Let's chalk it up to my incredible intuition." Kyra smiles," Anyways there's an amazing ice cream shop nearby. They make an triple chocolate gelato that's literally to die for," she jokes, " You can take my word for that." "Why don't we visit that place? It'll give you a distraction and a much needed break."

You look at her and then your textbooks, not understanding what to do. All you can see is blurry lines. the words and concepts swim around in your very exhausted brain. You close the textbook with a slam after your answer is crystal clear.

"How can I say no to chocolate gelato!", you say dramatically.

"That's more like it!", Kyra beams. The two of you collect your belongings and make your way out as you tell Kyra everything about the dilemma with your latest patient.

"This place is pretty cute.", you say as you look around.

"Try nauseatingly adorable. I want to make it tiny and keep it in my bookshelf," Kyra replies. You laugh.

"You collect tiny shops?" You ask as the two of you made your way to the counter.

"I collect many sickeningly adorable things," she laughs before turning her attention to the boy behind the counter. "I’ll have the large Death by Chocolate please. And my absurdly attractive friend here will have…”, she nods for you to continue.

You roll your eyes at her before placing your order. You take a look at their menu before deciding to have the same one as Kyra as it's the most chocolatey one.

“I'll have the same.", you smile at the server.

The server scoops your gelato into two big cups and slides them across the counter while Kyra rummages through her bag for her wallet.

"I'll pay.“, you say getting your card out.

"No way!", she stops you by swiftly taking your card from you. You whine but to your dismay she doesn’t budge.

"This was my idea. Besides I didn't get out much during recovery. I've got months of dining-out budget to blow."

The next minute she's handing the cash to the server and then guiding you to a booth. As you two take your seats, Kyra hands you your card.

She takes a spoon full of her Death by Chocolate and sighs blissfully.

“Mmmmmm…”

You smile at her antics. "That good?" You ask before taking a bite.

"Orgasmic. I never used to eat junk food before my diagnosis."

She takes another bite and you take your first. You can't help but let out a moan as the chocolatey silkiness melts on your tongue. Kyra smirks and gives you a smug look.

She then continues, "I was super into exercising and calorie counting. I never did anything I wasn't supposed to." She smiles sadly. "And I still got lung cancer. At my twenties!"

"You must have been so strong!", you reply.

"Everyone keeps saying that but-", she pauses, "I don't know. I just went to the doctor to see why I was breathing weird."

She sighs. "Then suddenly I was going for all these tests, and then I had cancer."

She laughs humorlessly. "Life went from jogging and juice every morning to chemo and puking."

You can almost feel the pain as she speaks about her experiences even when you’re aware you’ll never truly understand.

"But I didn't do anything," she says, " Those things had to happen , and I had good insurance, so I did them. And it's not like I had any alternative."

"I think you should give yourself more credit.”, you reach for her hand and squeeze it in a comforting manner.

"You faced death with a smile on your face. I'll always remember you cracking jokes on the way to surgery-", you stop for a second before adding,"You are the strongest person I know Kyra."

Kyra blushes, a little embarrassed. "Well you can laugh or you can cry and I chose to laugh.”, she shrugs with a smile on her face.

"And like I said, I don't want to be that cancer survivor but it does put certain things into perspective."

"That kind of clarity must be nice.", you reply.

"Well yeah, you have to get some kind of consolation price for nearly dying, right?" She then shakes her head.

”But enough about that. If we keep talking about this you'll always see me as a girl who beat cancer."

"I'll never, Kyra." you say truthfully. "That's not how I see you."

"Oh yeah? And how do you exactly see me?" She asks playfully.

"I think you are inspiring."

A blush creeps on her face as she’s caught off guard, but quickly retaliates with a sassy reply. “If you keep giving me compliments then I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

“We’ll see about that.” You both dissolve into fits of laughter as Kyra fills you up on the hospital gossip...

“What wait?! Seriously?! I can’t believe it!”

“Me either, but you know how gossip is!”, she replies with a shrug.

Just then your phone chimes. You pull it out to see it’s a reminder for your shift.

“Crap, I have 10 minutes till my shift.”

“Oof, you better hurry!”, she replies.

“We should do this again, this was really nice.”, you say as you gather your things.

“We should! Besides there would have to be 12 different things wrong with someone to turn down Gelato!”, she jokes.

“..12 different things wrong….. oh my god, Kyra, you’re a genius!”

You scramble to your feet and quickly throw away your cup.

“I like to think I am but what did I do?”, she asks.

“I’ll explain later!”, you yell.

“Ookay…” You rush back to the hospital, typing out a message on your pager as Kyra sits there in utter confusion.

“Well I guess I could get another scoop of gelato…”

————————————————————

An hour later, you take a deep breath before entering Nigel's room to find Ethan and Ines already inside.

“Well what are you waiting for?”, Dr. Ramsey says. Pushing back all of your invading memories of him, you continue with your explanation.

"I spent the last two days trying to figure out the one thing causing all of Mr.Platt's symptoms.”, you say as you stand beside Nigel's bedside.

"And?", he asks. For a split second, you can see a slight look of hope in his eyes, but it passes as quickly as it came, leaving you to believe it was a mere delusion of yours.

"That's when I realized nothing was causing all of them-" But before you can continue, you’re interrupted by Nigel.

"Are you calling-", he burps, “me a liar?", he asks, rude as always.

You control the urge to roll your eyes. He could've at least let you finish your sentence.

Ignoring him, you continue what you were saying," Mr.Platt has been experiencing tingling and hair loss but also cold sensitivity and some hearing problems." You pause for a second before continuing,"All of which point to hypothyroidism caused by Hashimoto's disease easily treated with levothyroxine."

"Go on." Ethan orders in his usual cold bossy tone.

"I couldn't fit in the constant burping and the chest pain… because it was completely separate." You explain. "I ordered a barium swallow X-ray and detected a hiatal hernia in the esophageal hole through the diaphragm."

"The treatment?", he asks, motioning you to continue.

"I have already booked a laparoscopic surgery to repair it.”, you answer with a touch of pride.

"Good work Dr.Valentine." Ines smiles at you.” You return it with a nod and a tentative smile.

"So ... I'll be cured?" Nigel asks.

"Yes-“, you calm yourself down before you rip him apart and then continue.

"You'll be good as new." you say instead with a forced smile.

"Good... because I don't want to spend a -" he burps, " second more in your hopeless company."

Your blood boils at this point as you bite your lip to control yourself. “The audacity! Ugh, he's a patient, Arielle. You have to be nice to him.”

"Mr. Platt, might suggest viewing this as a new lease on life. Perhaps a life where you don't make everyone around you miserable.”, Ethan's stern voice retorts, shocking you and Ines.

“No way...he did not!”

"Dr. Ramsey!" Ines exclaims with a shocked expression on her face, which you’re quite sure your face resembles.

"I'll report you! I want to talk to your manager," he says more angrily than before.

"Go ahead," Ethan says with a sarcastic smile." Maybe she can't talk to you like this but I sure as hell can."

You look at Nigel who looks like he's about to say something but just then Bryce struts in. He winks at you playfully as he passes you.

"Someone called for a laparoscopic surgery?"

"Oh great, first Barbie and now the damn Ken doll!” You don’t even attempt to hide the disgust on your face as you roll your eyes.

By the time you’ve finished your consultation with Bryce, Ines and Ethan have already left the room. Pleased with yourself, you take a left in the hallway without noticing Ethan standing leaning against the wall.

"Rookie..." His velvety baritone voice calls out, pulling you out of a haze.

Wincing, you stop dead in your tracks as the memories of the previous day replay in your mind. Still embarrassed with your encounter, you turn around but never meet his eyes. You’re sure you look like a kid, standing before him with your feet crossed, one hand fiddling with your hair as you bite your lip.

"So, you figured it out in the end. And you kept things professional.”, he nods, barely visible.

"I guess I just needed a… push.”, you reply in a timid voice laced with embarrassment.

"Maybe you aren’t so hopeless then.", he says.

Unlike yesterday, his voice isn’t filled with disappointment and malice.

So mustering up some courage, you look up to meet his eyes. Relief washes over you as you don’t detect a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He isn’t smiling but something in you tells you he isn’t angry. You don’t realise you’ve been staring into his oh-so blue eyes until his pager beeps, shaking you out of your reverie.

“..Uh- I’ll see you around, Dr. Ramsey.” You can almost swear that you see longing etched into his chiseled features as you lose yourself in his eyes once more.

“Likewise, Valentine.” With that, he turns around and stalks away.

You sigh and lean against the wall, the events since you started your residency swirl around like a hurricane filled with memories.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

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

And this concludes Season 1 of Medically Inevitable!

Authors’ Note:- Hey everyone, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter! As you’ve probably seen before, this is the last chapter of Season 1! Season 2 will be out soon, as soon as we work out the kinks and pump out a few chapters with different moodboards and title themes! Season 2 will be much more eventful, more drama, angst and shocking cliffhangers mixed in with the string of festivities that Thanksgiving and Christmas bring! Stay tuned and check our blogs and Instagram’s (same handle) for more updates! And lastly thank y’all so much for all the support, we are extremely grateful.

Love,

@drariellevalentine & @mysticaurathings

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart fanfic #ethanjonahramsey #playchoices #open heart #medically inevitable #ethan jonah ramsey #ines delarosa #harper emery #modern au #thank you for the support

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muthaz-rapapa · 3 years

Text

Let’s talk TroPreCure! (^∀^ 🌺)

i’m so stupidly proud of this dumb pun “tropurikyua~”, hahahahaha

Last post of the year and wow is there are lot to be excited for!

I even had to make a list for the stuff I want to talk about and I’m sure I already forgot one or two things but we’ll get to them as we continue to float~ along the wave to February 28th, mmkay? :)

Now for what has peaked my interest so far. And yes, we have to talk about the following first:

1) HealPre the shortest Precure season??

Unless they plan for double features in February (which I doubt but you never know), HealPre is likely going to reach only 45 episodes long instead of the usual 48~50 before TroPre I’m using this shortening of the title for now so if there’s a better alternative, tell me and I’ll switch out begins its broadcast.

Understandable because the producers probably want to get back to their normal scheduling as soon as possible (toy sales, y’know) and I suspect pushing the start of the new season back by a month is the most they’re willing to compromise.

As for me, I’m quite happy about this since HealPre’s lost its hold on my attention a while ago so the sooner TroPre gets here, the better. Though the downside might be a scrambled climax and a rushed, underwhelming ending for HealPre (I dunno if it’s January’s titles that feel a bit messy or if the hiatus is still throwing me off) but whatever. We’ll refresh ourselves with the new blood Cures so it’s all good.

2) Tropical movie announced for Autumn 2021, no All Stars??

(source)

First saw this mentioned on Youtube somewhere but it’s all over the fandom forums by now. I mean, HealPre’s movie is set for March, the usual time slot for All Stars release. If Toei intended for there to be an All Stars in 2021, there’s no way they would announce the seasonal movie before it so speculations of them skipping it this year are probably true.

To squeeze it somewhere between March and October-ish would force them to readjust their budgets as well and I don’t think even Toei wants to go through that extra hassle after all the trouble the pandemic’s caused for everyone already. It’s just easier to resume All Stars in 2022.

That, and I think Laura being a major character in TroPre despite not having a Cure title (yet) would make for an awkward situation when the three latest teams gather so perhaps that’s also one of the reasons. But I’ll get back to Laura in a bit.

3) Cure Summer is a RAINBOW Cure

So god help me if I see anyone calling her a Pink Cure.

Yes, she’s the lead Cure for this season. NO, she is not a Pink Cure.

Look, even the official website has a rainbow overlay for her profile pic and text font while everyone else’s respective theme colors are a solid hue:

Therefore, RAINBOW.

In promotional material and merchandising, they’re probably going to advertise her primarily with pink bah and at worst, she might occasionally be labeled as a White Cure with multiple subcolors (her outfit is not pink-dominant) but definitely NOT. PINK.

...also, this goes without saying but f***yea, we finally got a lead Cure practically and unabashedly wearing the LGBTQ flag and you cannot tell me otherwise, Toei!

Own up to it! Declare Manatsu/Cure Summer as the Precure queer icon!

I’m not gonna stop yellin’ until you do! 😠

4) Laura = obvious midseason Cure is obvious

First of all, Laura is a babe. I already love her the best and she’s not even Precure yet. <3

Anyways, the set-up is pretty much in the description. Important main character who’s not a mascot, stated to have a self-confident personality and just speaks her mind (oooh, I like~ :D), magical/foreign being from another world looking for Precure to save her home, possesses her own special item(s), has aspirations to become the next Queen (so she’s a princess-candidate or something to that effect, I suppose).

We’ve seen various combinations of these traits in past midseason (and a few starter) Cures so nobody should be surprised when we all guessed that one of the Cures would be a real live mermaid.

The only question is why not just make Laura a Cure from the get-go if she’s introduced to us at the beginning (like Hime or Lala) and having a team of five with no unnecessary extra add-ons later on (like Smile).

Well, there’s a simple answer for that: formula.

Toei is afraid that if they don’t spit out some new animation sequence at the halfway and third quarter points of the show, the kids will lose interest and abandon the series altogether. Which means failed toy sales. Oh nooo... [/sarcasm]

...Yea.

And this way they can also have Laura available in the Cure lineup for the next All Stars in 2022 instead of making her sit the fight out if we were going to have one in 2021. I’m convinced that’s gotta be one of the reasons. *shrug*

But ok, whatever. Her debut is gonna be later, that’s all. She’s a delayed Cure. Midseason Cure, same difference.

Moving along to the more important stuff now like what’s her Cure name gonna be, y/y?

Well, knowing Toei, a translation of the term “mermaid” into another language is the most predictable route even though we already have a Cure Mermaid. Not like that ever stopped them from repeating words before (ex. Cure Happy vs Cure Felice). Though if they do go down that road, I hope they opt for the Spanish/Italian “sirena” and not the French “sirène” because the latter sounds too close to how Cure Selene is pronounced in Japanese. And, putting it nicely, we all know Japanese pronunciation of foreign words is as off kilter as can be.

Hell, even the the Portuguese “sereia” sounds aesthetic as hell so it’d be nice if they can just remember there are other languages that exist out there besides Japanese, English and French when making the final decision at the writing table! *stomps foot* >:/

Alternatively, “nereid” or “naiad” are good choices too but they remind me too much of Greek myths and Laura’s from the Grand Ocean which covers more than just a couple of seas (Greece is surrounded by three, btw) so...

I dunno. But whatever it’s gonna be, she’s definitely got a strong association with water and her powers will probably be based on that.

As for theme color, since there’s noticeably no blue or green Cure in the starter lineup, it’s likely she will take up that spot when she debuts around ep 20.

Pink is also open since Cure Summer, again, is technically not a Pink Cure and Laura’s hair and tail fin are hot and light pink respectively but looking at Laura’s design and concept, does anyone seriously believe that?

Her upper torso consists of aquamarine while the body of her tail is definitely some shade of cyan, implying they’re aiming for somewhere around the middle of green and blue on the lighter spectrum.

And yea, I’m aware that green and blue are considered exchangeable in some perspectives with how close some of their shades are to each other but officially, I think Laura’s gonna be grouped with the Green Cures.

Cuz of the hair. If Laura’s gonna keep it the same or a similar shade after transforming, that is. The Blues have always had cool-colored hair so putting Laura in with them might disrupt that harmony whereas if you put her with the few Greens there are (including Parfait), she’d fit right in.

I mean, we’ll see but that makes the most sense, doesn’t it?

On another note, I just want to say that I love how they added frills to her arms instead of letting her elbows go bare naked. It definitely makes her look more like a genuine mermaid than if she didn’t have them (remember, half fish doesn’t mean half the body :P).

5) Magical Items

Frankly, I’m tired of seeing the transformation device being a compact again even though one of the main motifs is make-up this season. But at least, as far as Precure compacts goes, the Tropical one is my favorite cuz of how cute and delightfully colorful its toy version looks! So I guess I’m okay with it.

The Heart Rouge Rod, though? ...I dunno. I think it would’ve been fine without that...straw (?) jutting out at the top. It looks weird, doesn’t it look weird? :S

As for the collectible clip-ons, I can live without those for the rest of my life. Yeesh.

Laura’s items, the Aqua Pot and the Ocean Prism Mirror.

Again with the portable, travel-size housing. *sigh* 😩

Alright, I can let this year slide cuz Laura (I’m so soft for her, omg) probably won’t be getting legs for 20 weeks so she’s got to move about on land somehow. But unless they’re really thinking about turning this idea of carrying your apartment around in your bag/pocket/purse into a reality (cuz that would be effin’ awesome), please be more creative with your toys.

On the other hand, I’m much more interested in the Ocean Prism Mirror but from what Kusyami (the Precure merchandise reviews I follow on Youtube) said in his latest vid, this is the ED dance item so don’t know if it’ll actually have an relevance to the story or not. But I did hear him mention it having something to do with the Queen as well and since Laura wishes to become Queen, maybe it’ll be important after all? Maybe it’s her transformation device?

That’d be super cool. Let’s continue the trend of the midseason Cure having a different transformation item than the starters. Honestly, we should alternate every other year or two but we’ve gone three seasons with all of them using the same henshin gimmicks up till HealPre and I just want a break from that.

6) Fin sleeves??

These look so impractical for combat so maybe it’s exclusive to group attacks.

And/or a sort of precursor to the super forms?

*GASP* Does that mean they all eventually turn into mermaids? 🤩

7) Yui finally became Precure!! 😭

lol, it’s all crack from this point on so don’t take it too seriously but man, after Yuni’s deceptive braids, I thought I wasn’t gonna see anything that reminded me of Yui for a while and lo behold, Sango.

kehehehehehe xD;

Though Yui might be closer to Minori in terms of personal interests (fairytales and storybooks).

8) Akira, the actual Onee-chan version

I didn’t think this when I first saw her but once I read “Onee-san” in her profile, there’s no saving you now. Sorry, Asuka. 😅

Also, damn, do her sandals make her feet look big! Compare them to the heels she wears as Flamingo. Are they even the same?! lololol

9) ...this sounds awfully familiar...

Translation:

Tokimeku Tokonatsu! [Exciting/Thrilling Everlasting Summer!] Cure Summer! Kirameku Hoseki! [Sparkling Jewel!] Cure Coral! Hirameku Fuurutsu! [Flashing Fruit!] Cure Papaya!

Japanese reiteration:

Mallow/Mao: Pink no tokimeki! Lillie: Blue no kirameki! Lana/Suiren: Yellow no kagayaki!

….........

@Toei

Care to explain yourselves, punks?!

୧(ʘ ∀ ʘ ╬)

#it is 1:30 AM and im hungry and still have to do work on new year's eve so i'll come back to amuse-rage later #tropical rouge! precure #precure 2021 #cure summer #cure coral #cure papaya #cure flamingo #laura la mer

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1274

Department One: Apparel And Jewelry

What are you wearing today? Just a white duster dress. Very loungewear-y, hahaha. I didn’t feel like wearing shorts today.

What does your favorite shirt look like? At the moment I’m obsessed with my Vante shirt. It’s fanmade but it was made tastefully; the designs aren’t too loud and I love the cute little shoutouts and tributes to his past paintings, so it had been a ridiculously easy decision for me to want to buy it.

What kind of underwear do you prefer wearing? Eh I don’t really have a preference as long as I don’t find them uncomfy.

What are your favorite kind of jeans? I’m definitely still stuck in my mom jeans phase. Idk man, I just love how they match nearly all kinds of tops.

What do the last pair of shoes you wore look like? They were adidas sneakers. Not a big fan of chunky shoes but it’s an Ivy Park and it was on a big discount HAHAHA so I didn’t hesitate to get them.

How many shoes do you own? A little more than 10. I love shoes and wanna collect them someday...just not today, hahaha.

How much jewelry do you own? Not too big on jewelry; most, if not all the ones I wear are just borrowed from my mom since we share the same style anyway.

Do you own any real diamonds or other expensive jewelry? Yeah, the ones I would borrow from my mom are pretty pricey.

Has anyone ever gave you jewelry as a present? Yes, I received rings and necklaces from my ex. One of my aunts also gave me a necklace when I turned 7.

Do you like diamonds or gemstones better? I just stick with diamonds...which is...also a gemstone too, if I’m not mistaken.

Silver or gold? Silver.

Department Two: Electronics

Do you have a DVD player in your car? Not in mine, but we do have one in the family car. I used to watch movies on there often but after one grueling road trip where my motion sickness acted up, I haven’t wanted to use it since.

If you have one, what does your camera/camcorder look like? I just use the camera in my phone but back in the day I used to have a DSLR; that was when I thought I wanted to take up photography, heh. It was a Nikon D3100.

How much did it cost? I’m not sure since my dad gave it to me as a present, but a quick search told me it would’ve cost him around P20,000 which issssss wow more expensive than I thought.

What kind of cellphone do you have? I have an iPhone 8 with an LCD screen that’s deteriorating by the day HAHA. I really need to get a new phone.

How often do you send texts? I text just for work purposes now, so it really depends on how busy my accounts are. Some days would require me to send out more texts than usual.

Do you have your own computer or does your family share? I have my own laptop. My workplace also provided me with what’s supposed to be my work laptop, but they had it sent to me when I was already a couple of months into my job and all my needed files and programs were already in my personal laptop. Since I was too lazy to start everything all over again, I’ve never actually used the work laptop haha.

How many computers are in your house? We have three laptops in total - my siblings and I each have our own. Kind of a necessity these days.

Do you still have a VCR? I don’t think so.

How many DVDs do you own? We probably have around 30-50 but most of them are movies from like the 2000s that we just haven’t thrown out. Personally, I have about five DVDs of old films like Gone with the Wind, Rebel Without A Cause, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, etc, and recently I’ve been buying BTS merch so DVDs are part of that mix too.

Does your car have a GPS? No. I use Waze on my phone instead.

What kind of iPod/MP3 player do you have? Haven’t used an iPod in like a literal decade. I use Spotify for my music.

How many songs are on it? Spotify doesn’t work that way since it’s technically a database of songs.

What size is your TV? Never bothered to ask/check.

How many TVs are in your house? Four. Living room, dining room, master bedroom, my brother’s room.

What video game systems do you have? We have a PS3 and PS4.

What about handhelds? Switch. I believe my sister also still has her DSi stored somewhere.

How many video games do you have? Probably somewhere around 50-60. My dad and brother are content with repeating their games lol.

Department Three: Home

What kind of shampoo do you use? It’s a Dove variant but I’m just blanking out on the specific name/what it does.

Soap or shower gel? Shower gel.

What does your comforter look like? It’s pretty colorful and has geometric shapes and lines.

Does it match your pillows? Yep, they come in a set.

What size is your bed? Twin.

Do you or your parents like to decorate the house with various things or is it plain? My mom puts considerable effort in decorating the house but it’s nothing overboard that it feels tacky. There’s enough decor in enough spaces.

Does the furniture in your house match? Sure. I imagine my mom would be very irritated if she felt something was uncoordinated at home.

What does your couch look like? It’s a gray L-shaped couch. Gabie broke a portion of the couch’s springs when it had only spent its like first two weeks at home but surprisingly my mom has not noticed it yet; probably because she barely sits on that side.

How many does your dining room/kitchen table seat? It has six chairs, though since we’re five one of the chairs is almost always unoccupied.

Do you have any fancy china? No, my mom isn’t the type to collect those.

Do you have outside furniture? Yeah we have a table and chairs up on the rooftop, if they count.

What do your curtains look like? My siblings and I have pull-down blinds. The other rooms have these pulled-back gold curtains that’s accompanied by white sheers.

Department Four: Grocery

What kind of bread do you get? Sliced white bread, always. Sometimes my mom will pick up pan de sal, but she gets those from a certain bakery and no longer the grocery.

What is your favorite kind of cake? CHEEEEEEEEEESECAAAAAAAKE.

Do you get a lot of sweets from the grocery store? Eh, nah. Not a big fan of sweets.

What kind of soda is your favorite? Don’t like soda.

Do you drink juice? What kind? I can take it or leave it. I wouldn’t buy it for myself.

What is your favorite chewing gum? Doesn’t matter to me. The flavors last for only like a minute anyway.

Do you usually get candy from the check-out aisle? Nah. Those are far more accessible so who knows who could’ve touched or tampered with them. Plus, I mentioned I don’t like sweets.

What is your favorite soup? Miso or cream of mushroom.

Have you ever had soup when you were sick? No. I don’t enjoy hot beverages/liquids very much so I doubt I would feel comfort from soup when I’m sick.

What are your favorite canned vegetables? Not sure if it’s a cultural difference thing but canned vegetables kind of sound gross and I don’t think I’ve encountered those (I actually had to look it up lol). My parents always buy fruits and veggies as is.

What do you eat for breakfast? Fried rice is a constant but my mom switches up the set of viands every time. Some of the meals she serves would be hotdogs, eggs (either scrambled, omelette, fried, or sunny-side up), corned beef, dried fish, hashbrowns, luncheon meat, tapa, and Vienna sausages. Poptarts or toaster strudels? Poptarts. I’ve never had toaster strudel and I’m honestly not sure what that is.

What salad dressing do you prefer? Spicy mayo.

Ketchup, mayonnaise, or mustard? MAYONNAISE. I can live without the other two.

What kind of cookie do you like best? I only ever eat chocolate chip.

What kind of snacks do you get at the grocery store? Salted egg chips or Pringles. Not a big fan of snacks either. This survey is making me realize I’m way more into full meals than anything else.

Do you get the meat from the deli? Er, we don’t have delis here. Too fancy a concept lmao. If we have them, they are most likely in those extremely upscale, boujee neighborhoods.

What is your favorite frozen dinner? I mean my dad buys frozen meat, fish, etc, but the frozen dinner sets that I see in American culture, which I’m guessing is what’s being referred to in this question, are not common here.

Do you prefer frozen dinners to actual cooking? I honestly can’t imagine how it’s filling, but then again I’ve never tried it. Personally, food made from scratch is still the best.

What is your favorite kind of pasta? Fettuccine.

Do you eat meat? And if not, do you eat vegetarian meat? Yes, I eat meat. I get vegan options if they’re accessible and affordable, but those choices are hard to come by here.

What is your favorite fruit? Avocado is really the only one I’ll give a pass to. Everything else tastes horrible.

What about vegetable? Broccoli, bell peppers, green beans.

Department Five: Health And Beauty

What kind of makeup do you normally use? None. If I absolutely have to put on makeup, I will begrudgingly put on foundation, maybe some eyeliner, and lip gloss. And they will all most likely be borrowed from my sister.

Do you wear more makeup on special events? Not necessarily.

What is your favorite makeup brand? I wouldn’t be the right person to ask because I would just say none of them.

Do you use any acne products? Mmm no, I just splash water on my face, really. I actually got into a conversation about skincare with my co-workers yesterday and besides the usual shocked experessions I get when people find out I don’t use products, they recommended I at least get moisturizer and sunscreen. Idk, let’s see but historically it’s been hard to convince me to invest in skincare haha.

What kind of perfume do you use? I have one of Beyoncé’s perfumes, Heat Rush. I don’t actually know if that’s still in production but it’s been my staple for like a decade or so now.

Have you ever been on a diet? No. I never really had to be on one.

What products do you use in your hair? Shampoo and conditioner.

How often do you brush your hair? Only when I have to leave the house or have an important virtual work meeting.

What do you take when you have an upset stomach? Nothing. The toilet usually solves that for me lol.

Do you take any prescription medicine? Nope.

Department Six: Movies, Music, And Books

What is your favorite movie of all time? It’s been Two for the Road for a solid nine years and it doesn’t look like anything’s on its way to dethroning it anytime soon.

What genre of movie do like best? Drama. The more realistic it is, the better.

What was the last movie you watched? It’s a Korean film called Be With You. I liked it and I cried waterfalls, but the ending was so rushed it was kind of disappointing.

What was the last movie you purchased? I don’t buy movies. If I wanted to see a film I’ll check if Netflix has it, then if they don’t I just try to scour one of those illegal movie streaming sites that always happen to have thousands of pornographic ads hahaha.

What is your all time favorite band? Paramore. Do you still buy CDs? Only from artists I’m an extremely huge fan of. Right now that would be BTS, so I’m catching up on all the albums they’ve released in the last eight years.

What was the last CD you bought? I got the Butter album set, if that counts. If it doesn’t, the last full-length album I purchased was Dark & Wild.

What was the last song you listened to? I think it was Permission To Dance.

What is your favorite book? I haven’t found it yet.

Do you even like reading? I used to love it a lot more, to the point that back in grade school I was known as always having a book in my hand. I just don’t know where that passion went.

How often do you read? Nearly never. I mean...I do read fanfics, I guess; but I won’t count those.

Department Seven: Sports And Fitness

Do you own a bike/scooter/skateboard/etc.? We do have a bike at home, but that doesn’t mean I know how to ride it. We don’t have the other two.

How old were you when you learned to ride a bike w/o training wheels? I still don’t know how to last on a bike without training wheels heheh.

Have you ever been camping? Nah.

How often do you work out? Nope but at work my boss just started another fitness challenge, so I’ll probably have to get back on working out soon just because I would want to accomplish the challenge.

Are you in good shape? Sure, I think so. I’m not like fit fit because I neveeer exercise haha, but I also don’t make it a point to constantly eat unhealthy foods or have an unhealthy lifestyle to the point that it affects my body.

Do you go to a gym? I do not. I thought of getting a membership at the start of the year but I’m glad I didn’t push through with it because all the gyms are still closed anyway.

Have you ever been fishing? No. Idk if it’s my kind of pastime or not.

Have you ever been on a boat? Yeah. My country has like 7000 islands so I was bound to get on a boat at some point in my life haha.

Can you play golf? Never seemed interesting to me so no. Even on Wii Sports I barely picked golf.

Ever rode on a golf cart? Yeah, in resorts where we had to ride them to be taken to our room.

Would you ever go hunting? That’s an easy no.

What is your favorite sport? Pro wrestling or table tennis.

Ever played on a sports team? No, my school didn’t have a table tennis varsity.

Department Eight: Toys

What was your favorite toy as a child? Cash registers because I liked the buttons. Also Play-Doh sets that had those contraptions that would squirt out the clay in various shapes.

Do you still play with toys? Well, no.

Do you collect any toys? I don’t, but I’m not opposed to start buying Funko Pop figurines of people or characters I’m interested in.

Did you ever have building blocks? Sure, but I was never creative enough for them.

Did you play with dolls? No.

Barbies or Bratz? Which were better? BRATZZZZZZ

What is your favorite board game? Scrabble.

Do you like to do arts and crafts? Hell no.

Do you think that kids now have it better than when you were young? For sure, but isn’t that kind of the goal?

#survey #surveys

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theabominableblogger · 3 years

Text

My Reaction to “Avengers Endgame”

Yes- I still haven’t seen this movie. Yes I know exactly what happens in this movie. I mainly avoided it for a while due to overhype but with some convincing from my brother, Imma sit my butt down and try to watch this.

Pressing... play!

Right off the bat, I feel like I should warn you guys and say that I have... my opinions... about stuff. Plus I’m a dumbass about Marvel so just bear with me.

I like that Disney Plus has to warn us about product placement

Clint!

Are we gonna see little Nathaniel running around- THERE he is!

We are gonna see Clint’s entire family get freaking obliterated

Is all the rumbling from the sky or are those airplanes freaking crashing to Earth in the distance?

What if they pulled a reverse WandaVision and showed the people getting snapped out of existence in a future film or show? That would be freaking terrifying.

They’re [Tony and Nebula] playing paper football...

I wanna see more of THEIR interactions aboard the Milano. The shots of them just repairing the ship are great too.

“I’m fine. Totally fine.” Everyone ever.

I also like you see the visual difference between Tony and Nebula. While he’s growing gaunt and haggard from loss of oxygen, you can still see that Nebula looks absolutely fine because she’s like 75% android

So between 1995 and now, what the heck has Carol been up to?

“Thanos wiped out... 50% of all living creatures.” So like entire ecosystems are just demolished.

*anthropology major part of my brain scrambling for answers*

“We lost. And you [Steve] weren’t there.” HE WAS IN WAKANDA!

Wait so the arc reactor ISN’T in Tony’s chest anymore?

“Where the hell have you [Carol] been all this time?” Good question!

*silently bops to opening theme*

For some reason, I just really want the ship radio to randomly turn on so you just see everyone sitting awkwardly as “Piano Man” plays over the speakers

*Thanos slowly cooks his food* Faster, all together now! COOKING CAN BE FUN!

“I [Thanos] used the stones to destroy the stones.” ...what?

“I am...[Thanos] inevitable.” *starts humming “Inevitable” from TGWDLM*

“I [Thor] went for the head.” YES YOU DID

[FIVE YEARS LATER] All righty so we’re doing this

*gasps* Is... Steve running the therapy sit downs like Sam did in “The Winter Soldier”? That’s awesome. I really like this tidbit.

I’m also really liking Alan Silvestri’s score for this so far

I’m really trying not to nitpick but I feel like it would take more than 5 years for greenery to just completely overtake a suburban neighborhood

Also wow pre COVID life looks great you guys

“There’s a part of me that doesn’t even wanna find him.” Are they talking about... Clint? Is Clint just going the full vigilante route?

DOES HE KILL PEOPLE?!?

I really like Steve and Natasha’s friendship in these movies but for some reason I don’t feel like we get enough of Natasha for me to get behind her on an emotional standpoint

Are they gonna use the quantum realm to jumpstart the multiverse for Phase 4?

Also speaking of multiverse, I honestly really don’t want Spiderman: No Way Home or Wandavision to get too cluttered by that

I like Tony’s lake house. And he got a whole vegetable garden going too. Kudos!

The little kid who plays Morgan Stark is adorable

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel.” Which we obviously won’t.

“We’re gonna need a really big brain.” So where the [expletive] is Banner?

“Stranger danger.” *snorts*

“Dab!” *rolls eyes*

So is the whole Professor Hulk thing permanent? I know he’s gonna be in the She-Hulk show but I’m wondering how they’re gonna tackle that. And they’re gonna have Tim Roth too!

*smiles when Tony takes Morgan to bed*

Steve Rogers here [when they do the first time travel tests] is a Look ™

Maybe don’t let the GIANT GREEN MAN keep pressing a bunch of tiny tiny important buttons on a dashboard

*laughs at Steve shaking his head in disbelief when they finally bring Scott back*

*Tony’s car races toward the Avengers base* NYOOOMMMM

*Tony rolls down his window* It’s Britney, bitch

“And maybe not die trying.” And you definitely will.

This whole bit where Scott keeps losing his dorito only to get another one from Bruce feels like a Doritos commercial.

*jams out to "Supersonic Rocket Ship by The Kinks*

Did they just keep reducing the green pigment for Hulk or what?

*sighs when they reveal Fat!Thor*

MIEK’S ALIVE!

Please tell me Noobmaster69 is Kid Loki, whom we meet in the Loki series

“Don’t... say that name.” “Yeah we actually don’t say that name here.” I like this. I like that Thor has so much resentment for killing Thanos at the wrong time and that he felt that could have done better cause he’s A GOD. So the fact that THANOS was on equal level and BEAT HIM-

Hawkeye’s killing people

This sword fight’s great [between the Yakuza person and Clint]

WHY DIDN’T THEY BUILD ON THIS [Clint and Natasha’s connection] ???

*laughs when Rhodey suggests killing baby Thanos*

These shots of Clint going through the Quantum Realm looks like something straight out of Andy Park’s concept art and that’s awesome

“Well I [Scott] haven’t [encountered an Infinity Stone] but I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.” *snorts*

“The Aether, firstly, is not a stone.” Thank you!

The little glance Nebula gives after Thor mentions the Dark Elves just make me think that somewhere down the road, she has either A) encountered them or B) has encountered other Asgardians besides Thor

“Guys if you pick the right year, there are three stones in New York.” “Shut the front door.” *laughs*

Also underrated trio: Steve, Natasha, and Bruce. Gimme more.

Wait a minute, in 2012, Doctor Strange wasn’t active yet. So are they gonna go see- OOOOOOOHHHHHH

[NEW YORK 2012] Oh here we go

*cracks up when Bruce very half-assedly smashes stuff on the street*

“I’m looking for Doctor Strange.” “You’re about five years too early.” Wait a minute.

HOW DOES SHE [the Ancient One] KNOW?!?

*giggles at Thor and Rocket sneaking in the background with a bored Loki in focus*

“That’s my [Thor’s] mother. She dies today.” I love this scene already.

Also WHY IS THOR- or the Thor films in general- have like the most well written characters in the whole canon?

It’s those movies, Guardians 2, The Winter Soldier, Civil War, aaand.... I can’t think of any more of them.

Oh yeah and WANDAVISION cause THAT HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK-

Rocket just said he thinks of the Guardians as his family I’m gonna die...

What about their [Natasha and Rhodey’s] friendship?!? I want more of that!

“Ronan’s obsession... clouds his judgment.” ...HUH

*Thanos uses his sword to lift up Nebula’s chin* Aw heck no

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s America’s ass.” *has to take a second before nodding in agreement*

Wait is that Jasper Stillwell?

“Flick me.” That bit alone could be taken out of context

“We’re in route to Doctor List.” Who’s Doctor List? Is that a code name?

“Hail Hydra.” THE BASTARDS WENT AND DID IT

Please tell me this hand off scene is gonna be the opening for the Loki show. Please tell me this is gonna happen.

*Loki takes the Tesseract again* AND HE’S GOOONNNEE!!

LET’S GET TO FREAKING JUNE ALREADY!

*ends up quoting “Yeah, I know, I know” along with Steve*

I’m really glad Tilda Swinton actually came back for this cameo

*keeps slapping my laptop screen when people keep saying Doctor Strange made a mistake when it was an explicit point in Infinity War where he encountered 14 million other AUs to find the best result*

Are you telling me that this whole plan could derail because Nebula accidentally hacked into her own WiFI network? Are you seriously doing this?

*Thanos and Ebony Maw scan Nebula’s duplicate memory bank and track her down* Are you freaking kidding me?

...I have 96 minutes left?!?

“The future hasn’t been kind to you [Thor], has it?” Frigga is underrated

So for these shots with Jane, are they just reusing different shots from Thor 2 or just footage from deleted scenes?

Can we talk about how Frigga is absolutely the best parent Thor has? Meanwhile her husband ODIN is like “oh yeah by the way you have a secret sister totes magotes i’ll die now byeeee”

*sings along with “Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone*

*laughs when we cut to Quill just very badly singing along to his iPod in the distance*

I want a bonus short with just Rhodey and Nebula doing their thing

*Nebula gets her memory taken over by 2014 Thanos* Nooooooo...

Are the glasses that Tony wears here part of EDITH from “Far From Home” or are they like a prototype?

Also I haven’t seen “Far From Home” yet because Sony hates me

Doctor Zola?!?

*jams out to the music playing when we see Hank Pym’s lab*

“A little girl would be nice. Less of a chance that she’ll end up exactly like me [Howard Stark].” *gasps softly*

Oh my God, he’s [Steve] in Peggy’s office

Alan Silvestri is really killing it with this score

JARVIS!!

Wait and that’s the guy from “Agent Carter”!

Ohhh that shot’s [of Thanos’s ship coming out of the clouds] awesome...

*2014 Nebula hands Thanos the Pym particles* Oh are you kidding me...

The CGI for Red Skull is also awesome

*gasps when Natasha reveals that she never knew her dad’s name when Red Skull told it to her*

*is super bummed out when Natasha sacrifices herself*

Kevin Feige really went and said “so Phases 3 and 4 are gonna make everybody cry” and the writers went “YES”

Wait doesn’t Cap go and return the stones at the end of the movie? How’s he gonna handle meeting Red Skull on Vormir then?

“It’s like... I [Bruce] was made for this.” Please someone get Mark Ruffalo his own Hulk movie before he combusts from giving out more spoilers

So Thanos used the Pym particles to time travel then. Honestly that’s kinda genius

I just noticed that Scott shrank himself right as the explosion hit the windows

I really want someone to just drop one F-bomb somewhere in the MCU and I really hope it’s Clint because he would 100% say it

*starts singing “Hollaback Girl” when Thanos arrives*

Here’s my question; how did Thanos acquire Nebula then? With Gamora, it was with the genocide of her people.

“We [Gamora to Nebula] can stop him.” LET’S GO!

[Thor uses his storm powers to summon both Stormbreaker and Mjolnir] *softly* Ohhhhh that’s badass...

Now I’m just imagining the cast just in the green screen room just hitting Josh Brolin with a bunch of foam weapons and making all the sound effects while poor Josh is just struggling under the weight of the Thanos reference head on his mocap suit

Who does the voice for FRIDAY?

AN: Irish actress named Kerry Condon

*Steve deems himself worth to wield Mjolnir* OKKAAYY OKAAYY

Love how Thanos is like “yes, I’m gonna stab you with an AXE”

“In all my years of conquest...” Steve you suuuucckkk...

Are we getting the Chitauri again?

“On your left.” *laughs incredulously* O-ohhh my God...

*Everyone starts coming out of the portals* Oh my God I’m getting chills

I would have lost my mind in the theater

I HAVE ACTUAL GOOSEBUMPS RUNNING ALL OVER ME. This is how good this is

WAIT ARE THOSE THE RAVAGER SHIPS ABOVE THEM?!?

“Avengers... assemble.” Oh my God this is amazing!

M’BAKU!

Also “Endgame” really just said “We are KILLING FOOLS TODAY”

How are they gonna tackle Peter and Gamora’s relationship in Guardians 3?

[Horn plays La Cucaracha] LET’S GO

God I’m gonna turn feral

*has to pause to scream in excitement when Wanda touches down in front of Thanos to fight him*

*puts hands on head* OHH MY GOOOOODDDDD

They’re literally just playing Keep Away with a teenage boy. Marvel, everybody.

*Captain Marvel destroys Thanos’s ship* WELL IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH

OK I got mixed feelings about that [the girl power team up scene]

*Thanos unsuccessfully headbutts Carol* Oh shit!

*Doctor Strange holds up one finger* Oh my God this is it

Someone definitely tore off when Thanos pushed Tony off

It was in that moment he [Thanos] knew- he effed up

*All of Thanos’s army dissipates* Byeee...

Is it bad that I’m not crying at Tony’s death?

*gasps when Peter reunites with Ned at school*

Wait the whole time heist takes place within ONE DAY?

“I love you 3000.” I really hope we see Morgan again somewhere in one of the movies or shows. Actually a cool way to reincorporate her would be in the Ironheart series whenever they make it

Even Drax is wearing black!

It’s the “We should be getting therapy but we got a TV show instead” trio [Wanda, Bucky, and Sam]

Wait is that guy- was that guy- the little kid from Iron Man 3?

AN: Yes

So right after this funeral, Wanda’s gonna storm SWORD right?

AN: This was finished up on 2/26 so probably YES

*Thor crowns Valkyrie the new leader of New Asgard* I now cannot wait for “Thor Love and Thunder”

Wait Peter’s looking for Gamora!

Still cannot believe that the time travel suits are completely CGI

I know they had a body double for Chris Evans here but I do think it would have been cool if they used the body double’s voice for Old Steve instead of Chris trying to sound old

He [Steve] put the shield in an art portfolio bag...

*says “No, no I don’t think I will” along with Steve*

*silently jams out to “It’s Been a Long, Long Time” playing during the credits*

Wait and that was the song Fury was playing in “Winter Soldier”

Oh they even got the actual signatures! That’s awesome!

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

In a previous ask I asked if you thought the writers dumbed the ladies down, thanks for answering by the way, but what about Rio. Do you think they dumb Rio down so Beth’s ideas look good? Like this episode wouldn’t Rio know that about the car wash? It seems easy enough to figure out?

You’re welcome, anon! And I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this. The pandemic just sort of threw a grenade into my life in many respects, and I still feel like I’m scrambling to catch up on things – including my ask box – particularly for asks I have longer replies to like this one!

As for your question – it’s a really interesting one! I don’t disagree with the sentiment at all, and can completely understand where you’re coming from. It is obvious, and seems a bit of a convenient pivot for a character who’s generally been depicted to us as very intelligent, a step ahead, a kingpin, etc. etc.

Probably surprisingly, my answer as to whether or not they’ve dumbed Rio down in s3 to make Beth look good is actually no though. I mean - gosh - think of his re-introduction this season which was entirely about showcasing how well he was able to play Turner and ‘handle him’ in the way Beth had no capacity to. In fact, a lot of this season was about positioning Rio as competent, powerful, and aspirational overall for Beth, but actually in some ways Ruby and Annie too. He’s really their yardstick in how they measure themselves and their own success, and I think a lot of this season was trying to add dimension to that and him overall, both in the slightly softer ways (i.e. Rhea, Marcus, and even Mick) and the harder ways (Lucy, Turner and even Beth).

Which brings me to something I’ve actually thought since 2.04 but never really elaborated on here beyond brief mentions, haha.

I think the show is running a subtextual storyline with Rio. I think it’s been running that storyline actually since Turner’s introduction in 1.04, and that it’s been on-and-off successful on a textual narrative level – mostly because they don’t give us enough of it. I do think it’s there though, and pretty consistent if you’re keeping an eye on it, but it doesn’t really bleed through enough to sate audiences beyond that. (And hey look! I’m one of the people who doesn’t usually have too big of an issue about Rio’s lack of screen time!)

But yes, haha.

What I’m getting at is that I think there’s a parallel, very present storyline that is trying to tell us that Rio’s business and operation was already under the microscope by the feds before the show had even started, and that Beth and the girls getting him arrested in 1.10 has been a hurdle that’s had major ramifications.

So let’s break that down a bit.

I feel heat on, I shutdown.

The seed for this storyline is, in many ways, planted with Beth’s monologue in 1.02 where she tells Rio that if he kills her, Ruby and Annie, he’s ultimately playing himself (there are hashtags and movements after all, haha). The set-up here is that Beth is an outlier for Rio in more ways than one, but there’s also an inference that Rio’s used to pulling the trigger first, and dealing with the fallout later – something that’s reiterated through his handling of Eddie in this very season, and then later Lucy in s3.

But we’ll come back to that.

The point here is that Beth calls him out on not being as subtle as he thinks he is, which is a fact that the story doubles down on with Turner’s introduction two episodes later in 1.04. Turner’s FBI, and he’s in town specifically investigating Rio. It’s immediately clear that there are a lot of gaps in that investigation, and in a lot of ways Beth bridges those gaps for Turner, but still. Turner was always onto Rio before Beth was ever in the picture.

In this sense, Rio’s seeming position in the crime world is already splintering – he has the feds on his tail already. Something happens – we never find out the details – in 1.04 which has one of his boys shot badly (Eddie), and Rio deliberately drops him off with somebody who’s very much on the perimeters of his operation (Beth). That same boy is later pinned by the feds and blackmailed by Turner (1.07) and something happens that quickly leads to Rio not only shutting down business, but seizing all of his assets from everyone, including Beth and the girls (1.08).

He has Eddie killed, orchestrates a test in 1.09 to see how much information Eddie actually leaked to the feds – a test Beth took personally – before he tries to cut her out and Beth retaliated by having him arrested in 1.10.

I’m out, I’m done, time for something new.

Which means starting s2, Rio’s business hasn’t actually been up and running since 1.07, and he’s now got a very public arrest on his record too.

I don’t think it’s an accident that Rio’s shown as virtually alone in s2 outisde of Beth, Marcus and Gretchen, rather I think it’s a deliberate effort to show where his priorities have resettled – which is in business (which Beth is, which I’ll come back to shortly), his son, and his freedom respectively.

But yes.

Let’s talk about work.

Rio tries to get Beth to handle Boomer (2.01), the key witness in the case she’s just given a lot of weight to through the Fine & Frugal job in 1.10, but generally speaking, I think Rio’s still technically, professionally shutdown for the first half of the season. Not only that, but he seems to be trying to disentangle from fake cash generally to get into prescription pill distribution – a pretty distinct pivot for him.

This could be a bit of a controversial opinion, but I don’t think he printed any new cash in s2. I think everything he left for Beth was stuff he had before she’d gotten him arrested, and I think that that’s demonstrated with him giving it to her in the first place (Beth says it herself in the same episode – if they can’t wash it, it’s just paper) and with him flipping his game overall.

In other words, I think Rio was still shutdown and trying to figure out how to redistribute the work he could operate, while he handled the court case and no doubt tried to cover his losses.

And in that incredibly stressful set of circumstances, I think Rio threw a line out to Beth as someone who owed him and was unencumbered by other networks in the crime world, and she bit, she delivered, and then Rio took advantage.

Something that was only ever made more complicated by their relationship, of course, haha, but even after that, I think he justified her presence in his life as a useful and unexpected card in his deck, and someone to keep his bed warm. In that capacity too though, I actually don’t think Rio ever intended for Beth to find out about the pills. I think he was already building that operation, saw an opportunity in Boland Motors, and worked it.

The point is that things were fraying for Rio back in s1. I think that things were getting back on track for him at the start of s2, but then fell apart in a way that was bigger and worse towards the end of it.

Beth successfully wrangled half his business, sure, and he not only let her, but he made a bad choice in investing too much in Boland Motors because he thought he had a better handle on her overall. Boland Motors ended up not just being the front for him to wash the cash he’d made via the girls, but was now the key stop-point for the drugs he was bringing across the border.

I’m sure he did have other operations at this point, but Boland Motors was BIG, and it blew up for him twice over.

First when Beth dumped him in 2.09.

Then with the FBI raid in 2.10, which ultimately rendered their cash useless in 2.12.

Something I imagine was only made worse by Ruby dumping the pills that would ordinarily be delivered through the car airbags in 2.10 too.

So who made your money?

Which brings us to where we are in season 3, where actually a lot of this seems to come to a head off-screen. I think this season actually really quickly established three things that work together and with the information of previous seasons pretty effectively, just that it was hindered by it being too subtextual, and not quite textual enough in certain parts.

1. Rio’s operation is still kicking, albeit not without challenges. He’s able to set up other crews, while mobilising his own to assassinate Turner from what is essentially a lockdown situation. The first episode is devoted to telling us exactly how powerful Rio is, while also how much he isn’t. We get Rio playing puppeteer with Turner and the crime world, but we also get the disconnect from his child as symbolised through the model airplane, and the lack of connection he has to his family through Beth and Rhea’s relationship. It’s a really great character breakdown to parallel Rio’s control over his professional life, and lack of control over his personal one.

2. Rio’s lost professional networks and is struggling to re-make them. This is actually the point I think we needed more of in the show, because I do think it’s there, but I don’t think it’s as textual as it should be. I’ve said it on here before, but we know from 1.03 that Rio’s never designed his own money – it’s what he sent Beth, Ruby and Annie to go collect from Canada after all, and that design was cooked by 2.12.

We also know he was washing cash through a variety of local businesses prior to his arrest in 1.10 as per the news report in the same episode, and from the fallout in s2, it seemed like those networks had dried up, hence him giving Beth the money to wash in 2.04 and then jumping all in on Boland Motors.

Beth also latches onto this concept in 3.04 when she tries to negotiate with Rio for her life, telling him “no cars, no pills, no cash, it’s gotta hurt”, and he responds, pretty simply with “You don’t know my interests.”

Which she doesn’t, particularly as she latches onto the idea of Rio needing money, because I don’t think he does, and I think the introduction of the G Wagon this season was a significant symbol in teling us that as an audience.

I don’t think Rio needs money. I think he needs to be making other people money.

I think he needs the business.

It seems to be something underlined in Rio’s confrontation with Gil in the bar later in the episode. He’s holding Gil to get the name of the person designing his money, because Rio knows the value of the product, and he needs to rebuild professionally after the arrest, raids and his own disappearance, and it’s only re-emphasised by Rio taking over Beth’s operation when he finds out. She owes him enough, is on the backfoot enough, that he can own all of it, knowing she’ll let him.

3. Lastly is that Rio is, and always has been, a dangerous person with a ready and willing trigger finger. He handles his rotten eggs – for better and for worse.

Sophie, what are you going on about??

A good question, me, haha. I guess my point in all of this is the fact that I think Rio’s comfortable financially but is in deep in crime and as a result has a lot of people relying on him (both above him and below him) to build business. Since the shutdown in s1 and his arrest then disappearance, I think shit’s hit the fan, and a lot of his old professional avenues have been cut off, and that Beth presents to him as this sort of perfect in to a world he’s just been re-ostracised from.

The carwash was obvious, of course it was, but I think that was sort of the point? I think it was a narrative signpost of how many steps backwards Rio’s operation has had to walk, and how far Rio’s been boxed into a corner (something I actually do think would have re-emerged on a textual level this season given we know we were supposed to be meeting Rio’s crime bosses).

I think he wanted another Boland Motors sort of operation, and forcing Beth’s hand created Boland Bubbles, and I think the prospect of that was a relief to him in more ways than not (hence his tone shift in 3.11).

Beth is, after all, a logical person in many ways for Rio to invest in because she owes him, and because she has no other ties in the crime world. I’ve said this in multiple other posts, but I think Rio’s really deliberately kept it that way. I think he sees her potential, yes, and I actually do think a part of him wants to protect her (again, 2.07 being the clearest example of that), but I also think he sees her as an asset for himself. She’s quick on her feet, exists in a world he can’t – that world being middle class, white mama – and he can throw down a challenge to her, knows she’ll rise to meet it, and present a solution.

She did it unprompted in s1 with the secret shoppers, prompted when given the means in s2 with Boland Motors, and then prompted with a threat in s3 with Boland Bubbles.

For all his talk of not knowing how to incentivise her in 3.10, he really does know, and more than that, he knows how to prompt her to level up in a way he can then take advantage of.

Does this mean that Rio can’t or doesn’t come up with the ideas? Of course not! (Athough I do think he likes outsourcing them, haha) But I think he’s aware of where he stands and who he is and what he looks like, and I think that’s been compounded by a period of time that’s been dangerous for him both personally and professionally, and fuck - - exhausting too. I mean – he was shot! Three times! In the chest!

But I do think Rio’s a kingpin too. It’s just been a hard year, y’know?

(Because I think it mostly has just been a year? There’s something to be said here after all given we know there was only eight months between early-s1 and 2.12 given the timestamp, and now only two months apparently between 2.09 and 3.03, so it very well could’ve been only little over a year in canon? That said, requesting any sort of logical timeline on this show feels like a trap, haha).

I don’t know though! This is just my theory. What do you guys think?

#beth x rio #beth boland #rio #gg 3.11 #3..10 #gg 2.12 #missing scenes #rio the mvp #crime time #welcome to my ama

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 5

Catch up on Chapter 4 here

“No, nothing’s wrong,” You hear him exhale smoke, his breath making noise in the microphone. “We got booked to do a show for one of the big rock stations in L.A..”

You realize now he’s looking for someone to share in his good news. “That’s amazing!”

“Right, it’s awesome. But here’s the thing: they’re not selling any of the tickets to the public. It’s gonna be all contest and giveaway shit. So the team needs a headcount as soon as possible for the guest list so we set aside enough tickets. So if you and Mary and Theo were wanting to see us live, here’s your chance.”

You blink, stunned at the twist the conversation had taken. “Guest list?”

Van’s back in L.A., and you cancel all your plans to see him perform for the first time.

A/N: It’s been four weeks of posting this!! Whether you’ve been following from the beginning or are binge reading it now, thank you for making this story I’ve put so much blood, sweat, and tears into a part of your day ❤️

Word count: ~9.2k

Chapter Five May 2019

The morning after the party is the last time you see Van while he’s in L.A.. For the rest of his trip, his schedule is packed with studio time and meetings in preparation for the album launch.

You finally follow the band on Instagram, although you shy away from following the boy’s personal accounts. Their relationship with social media didn’t seem to be the strongest, and you figured one of Van’s random flings following all of them probably wouldn’t send the best message.

The night of the album release they post a black and white photo of a pile of albums and vinyls to mark the occasion. You text Van the next morning, when it’s officially out, simply: Congrats on The Balance!!

Thaaaanks, Van sends back, Buzzing over it!

Each day you watch their feed fill with new posts promoting live shows. They announce tour dates so often it makes your head spin. Peppered amongst event announcements are videos of Van singing enthusiastically into a microphone, always promoting one of the different singles. You watch them more times than you’d care to admit.

Your conversation thread with him runs dry. You try to send him something here or there, to keep things going, but Van isn’t the best at a consistent reply. You try to convince yourself he’s tired from work, or the time difference is hard to maintain, but your brain can’t help but insist he’s busy with someone else.

That’s why two weeks after release day, when your phone lights up on the kitchen counter with a phone call from Van, you practically faint.

“Hello?” You respond hesitantly. You two have never called each other. You’re convinced he’s dialed you by accident.

“Whatcha doing?” Van asks down the line, his voice breezy.

“Um, cooking dinner,” You say, still confused.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Uh, lasagna…” You peek inside the oven to make sure it’s cooking alright. “It’s in the oven right now.”

“Sounds class.”

“Yeah…” You trail off, unsure why this warranted a phone call. “What are you up to?”

“Having a cig real quick. But I got an email from our team and I wanted to talk to you.”

Instantly, your mind flashes to the worst case scenario. Was this about Instagram? Had you done something wrong? You hadn’t even posted anything!

“Is something wrong?” You press, when Van doesn’t continue.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” You hear him exhale smoke, his breath making noise in the microphone. “We got booked to do a show for one of the big rock stations in L.A..”

You realize now he’s looking for someone to share in his good news. “That’s amazing!”

You blink, stunned at the twist the conversation had taken. “Guest list?”

“Yeah. It’s not a backstage kind of thing, nothin’ like that. But I can put your names down. You can choose balcony or G.A., whatever you like. If you want G.A. I could probably weasel you in a little earlier so you can get a good spot.”

The opportunity already sounds amazing. There’s only one thing on your mind: “When?”

Van chuckles. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Oh God, why?”

“It’s on Friday.”

“What?!” You spin around in the kitchen, making a beeline for the calendar you’ve got hanging up in there. “Van, that’s in five fucking days!”

“I’m sorry! It was kind of in talks, but they really like the album. They wanna do a whole week spinning it and really pushing us. It was all penciled in last minute.”

“Right,” You sigh, your mind going a mile a minute. “Okay, I need to call Mary. Can I call you back?”

“Yeah, sooner the better. If I don’t pick up I’ll call as soon as I’ve got a moment.”

You say your goodbyes, hitting call on Mary’s contact card as soon as the screen clears.

“Hey, Mare?” You start hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“What are you and Theo doing on Friday?”

As soon as Mary starts detailing her plans, the oven timer rings out.

“Okay hold on,” You interrupt her. You put the call on speaker, resting it back on the counter while you fuss with the lasagna. “Whatever you’re doing, I need you to cancel it.”

“What? Why?”

You struggle to lift the heavy glass pan of food out of the heat. “Van’s doing a show and he wants to put us on the guest list.”

“Huh?” Mary’s voice rings tinny through the speakers. “I can’t hear you!”

“Van’s doing-” You huff in frustration, jabbing your finger against the oven keypad to stop the timer. “He’s doing a show and wants to put us on the guest list!”

“Who’s guest list?”

“Van’s!” You yell, your voice echoing through the silent kitchen. “Catfish and the Bottlemen are doing a show and he wants us on the guest list!”

Silence. Then: “You’re joking.”

“No,” You tell her breathlessly.

“Okay, fuck, okay,” Mary panics. “Lemme grab Theo.”

You don’t give your friends enough credit. All Friday plans were dropped in exchange for this show you knew nothing about.

Theo and Mary had pestered you with questions as you three scrambled to devise ways to clear your schedules. Mary was going to bail on her cousin’s baby shower, and Theo was in the process of texting any co-worker that could possibly cover for him. You had no idea what your plan was. Worst case scenario, you’d have to play sick. Through the entire ordeal, they’d asked where the show was, the capacity of the venue, what time, what radio station. You had answers for none of these.

You call Van back with an adrenaline rush, praying he picks up. He does.

“Okay, we’ll take three for G.A.,” You say instead of a greeting. “But I have some fucking questions for you, okay?”

Van laughs. “Okay, yeah. Grab a pen and paper, I’ll read you the email.”

During your workweek you do your research. You listen to the radio station, curious to hear fan’s reactions to their new stuff. Almost every fan that wins tickets is a female that’s jumping for joy. Every commercial break consists of a minute-long ad of Van and Bondy introducing themselves and pushing their album and the chance to win tickets to hear it live. The radio announcers enthusiastically discuss how much they enjoy every song of the band’s that they play. You realize you’d been sorely underestimating their success. People seem genuinely interested in their work, and a lot of the people that call in are long-time fans.

But nothing prepares you for the actual day.

Getting the day off work had seemed like that was going to be your biggest obstacle, but it was surprisingly easy. The real challenge came with all the coordinating required between you, Mary, Theo, Van, and the band’s team.

The event was happening early afternoon, at 2. You’d never even heard of shows happening that early besides all-day festivals. But you supposed it made sense with the way it was going to be broadcasted over the radio this afternoon, and Van had mentioned they also had interviews to do.

That meant you were up as early as a workday, except last night you’d had the worst sleep possible because of your nerves. You slug through your grogginess, attempting to get ready with the help of multiple cups of coffee. Through the entire process you’re glued to your phone, fielding questions from Mary about what time you three should leave, who’s car to take, and who’s driving, along with questions from Van about what time you think you’ll be arriving, the address to the venue, and details about the guest list.

The whole guest list concept was so casual it made you nervous. The only thing Van took down was everyone’s first and last names, and their choice of general admission. He insisted that was enough. He’d arranged to meet you guys at the side door of the venue a half hour before doors opened to get you in early, but other than that he only told you to tell security your name if asked. It felt too easy for something to go wrong.

And to be fair, something did go slightly wrong. Communicating with everyone all morning keeps you from finishing your hair and makeup on time, which delays the three of you from leaving, which means that by the time you get through traffic and pull into the venue, Van has texted that he can’t wait at the side door any longer as it’s time for him to warm up.

No worries, securitys still waiting, He insists when you apologize for running late, When you get here go to the side.

You don’t even understand how you’re supposed to make it around the front of the venue. The entire building is swarmed with fans, most of them sitting on the cement in the sweltering L.A. heat for their best chances at a good spot. There’s a disorganized line crowded around the ticket booth, and at any moment more people are exiting their cars, heading to congest the building further. It hadn’t seemed like this many tickets had been given away when you’d been listening to the station. There’s way more people here than you expected.

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you as you walk past the line. Girls sitting on the sidewalk peer up at you, their heads following as you breeze past them. You actually feel bad. They must’ve been out here for hours, considering how far the line goes down the sidewalk. And yet here you are with your friends, scaling the line in a matter of minutes. As much as it feels elite, you’ve got a healthy amount of fear running through your veins. You pray that something doesn’t go wrong, that you don’t get turned away in front of all these people.

The last thing you see as you, Mary, and Theo turn the corner is necks craning to see what you’re up to. You’re relieved to be out of everyone’s sight around the brick building.

The door is exactly as Van had described, but there’s nobody attending to it. Your stomach sinks as you realize you’re probably locked out. But still, you turn the knob, needing the weight of your body to help maneuver the heavy door. You guys struggle to get through.

On the other side is a security guard watching you curiously.

“Van was waiting for us,” You explain. You’re so nervous that the true statement comes out like a question.

The guard eyes you three. Then he gestures to a spot on the floor. “One at a time, let’s get you checked.”

Just like that, the three of you are scanned over quickly by his portable detector, your bags skimmed through before he gestures to one of the doors.

“Stage is through that one.”

Everyone hurriedly thanks him as you head through the giant space, your footsteps echoing against the flooring as you head towards the door. There’s equipment everywhere, cords in tangled piles, and you even spot overflowing boxes of merch. You can hear some hustle and bustle in the distance, coming from one of the nearby rooms.

You’re thrown off when the door leads you right onto side stage. You’re instantly in the way of crew members who are maneuvering a drum set over the hardwood.

“Sorry, sorry,” You say immediately, scrambling to clear their path. Thankfully you spot the stairs to descend the stage nearby, although they’re blocked by a thick, dusty stage curtain you’ve got to press through.

Once you’re down, another security team member nearby makes a gap in the barricade railing for you to get through. And just like that, you three are standing at the barricade, no other fan in sight. With no questions, hassle, or mishaps. You look to Mary and Theo in relief.

“That was so weird,” Mary agrees with your silent communication. Her voice echoes eerily around the space.

“We should grab drinks,” Theo gestures to the bar nestled into one of the walls. There’s only one woman attending it currently, stocking plastic cups.

By the time you’ve been served, the doors have opened and people are starting to flow in. You nestle yourselves in the front corner of barricade, a spot that looks like it’s going to have a great view and also prevent the band from being able to see you.

You listen to the conversations that the fans pressed against barricade are having. Soon the space up front is packed tightly, everyone jostling for the best view. You pick up on a few people’s opinions of The Balance, a few general criticisms, and listen curiously to a couple of girls enthuse about a time they managed to meet Van. According to them, he was very nice. You glance over to catch one of the girls showing the other her picture. There’s Van, arm slung around her, lopsided smile on display. There’s something about knowing him personally and listening to the girls speak as if they know him personally that unsettles you. You decide to try and tune them out.

Without an opening act, the lights going down catch you off guard. One moment there’s a pre-show playlist playing happily over the amps, the crowd cheerfully bopping along, and the next the lights are out and the entire room erupts in screams. And just like that there’s blinding lights shining down, the band taking their positions before Van emerges, electric guitar slung low on his hips, the opening notes of Longshot ringing out.

There was nothing in your radio station research that could have prepared you for what you were witnessing today.

You knew Van loved music. It was as much a part of him as one of his organs. He was constantly talking about it, playing it, writing it, singing it. And he’d mentioned that he loves live shows. And you knew from his fans that Catfish made music that people really loved, really connected with. But you had made a fatal mistake. Your brain had not added these facts up correctly.

Because seeing the boys actually on stage was insane.

The band rips through their setlist relentlessly. You’re barely able to catch a breath before they’ve launched into the next song. And the next. And the next. The fast pace only seems to wind everyone up more, leave everyone eager to bask in every note. Van is magnetic on stage. The crowd goes crazy for him, and he knows it. Simply resting his foot on one of the amps makes the entire crowd swell and swarm in an attempt to get as close to that amp as possible. He improvises lyrics and note changes that keep everything interesting. Every one of the boys performs flawlessly. There’s not one moment where it looks like they’re anything less than over the moon to be entertaining.

As soon as it feels like the show is slipping by too fast, Van will drop the pace. He’ll chant a lyric a few extra times. He’ll strum his guitar a bit longer than what you’d been hearing on the radio. He’ll lean forward, voice low, and make direct eye contact with different people in the crowd. It’s so electrifying that when your desire for him washes over you in a surprisingly intense wave, you’re almost positive that every single person- regardless of sexual orientation- feels the same.

The show feels like it exists outside of time. It lasted hours but also only ten minutes. When Van thanks everyone for coming out it shocks you, but also fills you with extreme exhaustion as if you’d just run a marathon. Before you know it the boys have walked off, the lights are back up, and the air is still crackling with electricity.

The three of you gape at each other.

“They’re phenomenal,” Theo says after a moment of shocked silence. “Do they have their albums at the merch stand? I wanna give them a listen after that!”

“I dunno,” You mumble, numb. “I can probably get Van to grab you some.”

Someone next to you pauses at your mention of Van. You realize how strange that sentence sounded only after it’s out of your mouth. When you don’t say anything else, they keep moving.

“You do that,” Mary nods, eyes wide. “I guess we should… go?”

“Right,” You try to come back to reality, fishing your phone out of your bag. There’s a text from Van.

At the side door having a smoke. Come say hi?

“He wants us to come say hi,” You announce, your head spinning.

“You go say hi,” Mary elbows you playfully, “Meet us at the car.”

You don’t think security would take you heading to the side door through backstage well, so you head out the front door with them in a daze. Once you’re outside again you round the corner, ending up back at the side door, which is now cracked.

You knock softly, a warning before you try to heave it open again. This time there’s another set of hands helping you.

“Are you allowed to smoke inside?” You ask curiously once you’re inside, Van shutting the door behind you.

He shrugs. “Ceilings are high enough.” He nods towards outside. “M’not in any state to take a picture with anyone.”

“Right,” You breathe. Fans are looking for him. Another piece of information your brain doesn’t have the capacity to handle.

Van is soaked from head to toe in sweat. He resembles a wet dog, hair matted and sticking to his skin while he tries to catch his breath. His face is cherry red from his last two hours of exertion, his freckles standing out. He’s undone half of the buttons on his shirt, his chest as splotchy red as his cheeks. Although you two have a healthy distance between your bodies, you pick up on his body odor with every inhale. He’s radiating heat like a furnace.

“Did you like it?” He asks breathlessly.

“I loved it,” You beam. “So did Mary and Theo. You’re, like… incredible on stage. You all are.”

Van shakes his head around an inhale of his cigarette. “We had a really nice crowd, s’all. Makes everything more massive. I wanted to change up the setlist a bit but it couldn’t get done this fast.”

“I loved the setlist,” You assure him. “Everyone else clearly did, too.”

“Aw, quit. But you liked it? Honest?”

“I loved it,” You insist again. “Loved it. It was amazing.”

“Okay, good.” Van nods. “Wanted to make sure. I’m gonna go clean up now. I’ll see you after, if you want.”

“Yeah, when?”

Van flicks his finished cigarette out of the door. “You can head to my place. You remember the gate code?”

“010892,” You recite. Van smiles. “What about your front door?”

“Spare key under the mat.”

He’s already undoing the last buttons of his shirt. You try not to stare.

“I gotta shower real quick and do an interview, it shouldn’t be long. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush an interview,” You urge him, shocked that he would even think of doing that. He laughs you off, parting with a quick goodbye before practically jogging away.

You make your way out of the side door and back into the melting heat, your mind going a mile a minute as you walk back to the car.

Sliding into the air conditioned vehicle feels heavenly. You slump in your seat.

“How’d it go?” Mary asks, turning in her seat to face you. “Did you jump into his arms?”

You laugh. “Fuck off.”

“Ready to go?” Theo asks as he kicks the car into reverse, carefully backing out of his parking spot.

“Yeah, but is there a way you could… Drop me off at Van’s?”

Mary cackles.

You’re starting to get quite accustomed to the route to Van’s. You’re easily able to direct Theo around the twisted, uphill roads through the neighborhood. When you helpfully add that the 8 sticks, Mary only raises her eyebrows in amusement. Soon you’re at his front door, fishing around under the welcome mat laid out on his porch for the key. It’s easy enough to find, and you wave Mary and Theo off as you unlock the front door.

It’s strange being at his house alone. His luggage is strewn about the front room, a couple of the bags open and oozing clothing. There’s a MacBook charger plugged into the outlet by the stairs, but no MacBook in sight.

You take in his mess of things for a moment before locking the door and leaving the borrowed key on the end table, making a mental note to lecture him about finding a new hiding spot.

The air smells stale, a sure sign nobody’s been here for weeks. You take it upon yourself to turn one of the lamps on, noticing a notebook and pen resting on the coffee table. It’s got a leather cover, clearly some sort of journal or agenda. Maybe he writes songs in there? The temptation to snoop is strong, but you know better. You physically force yourself to turn away.

You crack the door to the outdoor lounge, hoping to let some fresh air in. You look around for the thermostat to make sure the air conditioning wouldn’t run itself silly trying to keep up with the L.A. heat breezing in, but you’re not able to spot one on the walls.

Your next stop is the kitchen. Van’s obviously been in here, a few tea mugs in the sink. You peek in the fridge; judging by the smell, it’s seen better days. There’s a rubbery-looking bundle of celery, it’s ends the crisp brown of decaying produce. A head of lettuce has rolled onto its side on the shelf, sharing a sheath of white fuzzy mold with the few soggy tomatoes next to it.

What is intact, however, is a gallon of unsweetened iced tea that’s still sealed, and a lonely beer bottle that’s tipped over in the door compartment. You extract the iced tea from where it’s resting on its side by the moldy tomatoes, and open various cupboard doors looking for a glass.

For lack of anything better to do you head out to the outdoor lounge, perching yourself on one of the chairs and setting your iced tea on one of the expensive-looking frosted glass tables. You get your phone out and flip through your photos and videos from the show, experiencing the magic all over again. You wonder if Van would be against you posting some of these. You’d have to ask him about it.

From your spot outside you hear the gate creak on its hinges, signaling Van’s arrival. You head back inside, your heart suddenly racing in anticipation. It seems silly considering you’d just seen him after the show, but you’re nervous nonetheless.

You’ve just locked up the patio when Van’s knuckles rap against the front door. You rush to unlock it, leaving your mostly-empty iced tea on the mantle.

“Fucking sweltering,” Van says as soon as he comes through the front door. As promised, he’s freshly showered. His hair is still wet except the ends, which are flipping this way and that as they dry. He’s in clean clothes, which you recognize immediately as the worn out gray sweatpants you’d seen him in once or twice, and the gray sweatshirt you’d borrowed the last time you’d seen him. He’s got a backpack slung over one of his shoulders.

“Lock me out of my own house, huh?” He jokes as he closes the door behind himself.

“Yeah,” You murmur, too busy processing the fact he’s in front of you for the first time in five weeks. At the memory of the key under the mat, you come back to your senses. “And you need to move that key,” You tell him sternly. “Under the mat is too easy! Anyone could guess that!”

Van makes a psh noise with his lips. “Nobody gives a fuck about my house.”

“Um, everyone at that show?” You argue.

“Worried they’re gonna come in and raid my drawers?” Van grins. “Steal one of my condoms as a souvenir? Nah, it’s fine.”

You roll your eyes in disagreement, but drop the subject.

Van turns to you then, taking you in.

“Long time no see,” He breathes, his grin reappearing.

“I think you’ve already used that line,” You point out. And without further ado you get up on your toes, going in for a kiss. Van lets his head tip, your lips crashing together effortlessly.

Kissing Van makes the tornado of feelings that have been swirling around for the last month settle. Any doubts about your chemistry, whether or not the party was the last time he’d be this close to you, or whether you’d failed the meet-the-friends test all come to rest now as Van deepens the kiss, getting a hand on the hem of your shirt to tug you closer.

You get a hand on the back of his neck in response, pressing your lips tighter together. Running your fingers through the damp locks of hair sticking to his skin.

The way you’ve missed him washes over you, crashing waves no longer able to be ignored. It’s the strange mix of sadness and relief pressing down on your chest that suddenly has you getting down on your knees.

“Oh fuck,” Van murmurs, swinging his backpack off of his shoulder in one motion. He sets it down safely before leaning back, letting the front door hold most of his weight.

He cooperates eagerly as you get his pants down in one smooth motion. He’s close to hard, but not enough to get started yet.

You stroke the inside of his thighs with your palms in big, sweeping motions. They’re still clammy from his shower. He smells clean, like men’s body wash. You ease your hands under the hem of his sweater and the t-shirt he’s got layered underneath, running your fingers over the bump of his lower stomach. His skin is silky smooth wherever you touch. Even the trail of hair that thickens in a stripe down his belly feels less wiry. You can’t help but run your fingers over the hairs as you bring your hands back down to the matter at hand.

Van lets you keep him waiting without complaint, watching you with hooded eyes.

He’s hard now as you wrap a hand around him, your wrist twisting around him in muscle memory. You only hope that muscle memory applies to the rest of what you’re about to do.

He’s waiting for your next move, the muscles in his thighs clenched tight. His desperation is palpable. You’re taking too long to get your mouth around him, trying to work up the courage.

“I’m rusty,” You blurt out suddenly. “I haven’t, um, done this recently. So if something’s not right…”

You trail off at the way Van’s shaking his head vehemently, his damp hair rustling with the motion.

“I don’t care,” He says, resting his head against the door, chin tipping upwards, his eyes falling shut. “It doesn’t matter. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

You figure it will matter in a minute, when you’re not up to his expectations, but his reassurance comforts you enough to get started. You carefully maneuver his foreskin under the ridge of his head so you can get your lips around him, pressing the flat of your tongue against his slit as you plan your next move.

Van jolts at the sensation, his hips jerking forward, feeding you more than you were ready for.

He grimaces apologetically when you pull back. “My bad, my bad, love,” He apologizes. “Took me by surprise s’all. Sorry.”

Instead of a response you pet his thigh with the back of your hand, a silent reassurance that he’s forgiven. This time when you start again you press one of your hands to his hip, nudging him back against the door. You use your other hand to guide him into your mouth. When his muscles go tight you quickly shift your hand from his hip to lower stomach, pressing him away from you more firmly.

With the security of your hand holding him away you’re able to get into a rhythm. It’s a bit sloppier than you’d prefer, and the entire time forgotten pointers from your past are flashing through your mind, but Van doesn’t seem to notice. He leans uselessly against the door, occasionally cursing quietly.

Giving head is a precise game to play, but fortunately Van makes things easy. You devote all your focus to him, taking careful note of what tricks make his stomach clench against your palm or leave him groaning. A slightly faster pace gets his thighs trembling. You’re not sure if there’s someone else in London, but considering Van’s desperation she must not give head.

When it’s clear he can’t hold off much longer you shut your eyes tight, willing your throat to relax as much as humanly possible before taking him down deep.

Van’s reaction comes instinctually. In your focus you’ve relaxed the pressure on his stomach, and you feel his hips lift off of the door, chasing the feeling.

“Oh fuck,” He groans, his hands scrambling for something to hold on to. He settles for restlessly combing his fingers through your hair.

Your other hand flies to his stomach, pressing him back forcefully to prevent yourself from being choked. There’s only an inch or two space between him and the door, and you’re more forceful than you’d intended, the door making a heavy thud as his body lands against it. Instantly you get a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve accidentally hurt him.

As you go to pull back and check, you’re stopped by the way Van’s entire body goes stiff.

“Shit, I-”

But before he can finish uttering his warning you feel his orgasm rock through him, his dick throbbing against your tongue as you feel him pulsing heat down the back of your throat.

Thankfully, he’s deep enough so the taste is minimal. Van pulls out as soon as he’s done while you stay put, only slightly sputtering as you swallow everything down.

“Fuck,” Van exhales. You look up at him.

“Holy shit,” He says, dazed and lost for words. He tugs up his pants before melting down the door until he’s on the floor with you.

“Rusty,” He scoffs. “Fuck you. You’re hustling me!”

You’re still cringing from the taste of him. “Can you go grab me my iced tea?” You request, pointing him in the direction of the mantle.

Van obliges.

“Sorry for such a shit warning,” He says when he brings the iced tea back. He offers you his hand, helping you up from the floor. “I was trying to hold off. Wanted to do other things.” He winks. “Been a while since I had that, though. Doesn’t help you’re fucking amazing at it, either. Shit.”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his compliment. “You’re fine,” You insist. “I was just worried I hurt you.”

“Nah. Quite the opposite, actually.”

You two make your way to the sectional, plopping down. As soon as your body comes to rest you feel the exhaustion from the concert wash over you, only amplified by your front door activities.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” Van’s lying on his stomach, head resting on his arms.

You perk up at the suggestion, bummed when you remember you need to shower. There’s no way you’re letting Van down there when you’ve been sweating like a pig.

“Raincheck,” You sigh, disappointed. “I need to shower. I’m disgusting.”

Van hums in acknowledgement.

A lazy silence blankets you both. You hear Van’s stomach grumble.

“You hungry?” You ask, realizing as you say it that you are, too.

“Yeah,” Van sighs, rolling onto his back. “Haven’t had anything but toast. All the food went bad.”

“You didn’t eat at the venue?”

“Not right before a show. Doesn’t sit right in my stomach on stage.”

“Oh my god,” You groan suddenly. “I forgot I have the best frozen pizza in my freezer.”

“What toppings?”

“Cheese. But then I got fresh pepperonis. The expensive kind.” Your mouth practically waters thinking about it. “It’s one of those giant ones.”

A beat of silence from Van. And then: “We could go to yours?”

“Like, for dinner? That sounds good. And then I can shower.”

“I mean, I can pack a bag and stay over. It’s up to you. Is Mary your roommate?”

“Nope. Just me.” You sigh gratefully as you think of your past living arrangements. “But yeah, stay over if you wanna.”

Van sits up. “I do. Need to give this place a good cleaning.”

“It smells weird,” You admit.

“Always does,” Van says, heaving himself up off of the couch. “From being closed up. Should smell my place in London when I get back from U.S. tours.”

You crinkle your nose, staying put as Van starts picking through his bags.

Soon he’s got his backpack repacked and slung back over one of his shoulders. “Ready?”

It feels like it takes a superhuman amount of effort to get yourself up from the couch, slip your shoes on, and head out the front door with him.

You’re in such a sleepy haze as you direct Van to your house that you almost forget to be anxious that he’ll absolutely hate your place.

But once he pulls up, his range rover out of place behind your beat up car, your anxiety makes itself as present as ever. There’s no driveway, so he’s parked against the sidewalk behind you. You pray nobody scratches his car during the night, even though your neighbors are quite good about that kind of thing.

“Here it is,” You laugh nervously as you two clamor out of the air conditioning and into the humidity.

Your front yard is the only space with grass, enclosed with a moderately new white picket fence. You fuss with the latch before it comes undone, and the gate creaks open for Van to follow you down the path to the front porch. Van holds the screen door while you unlock the door.

“Well,” You say, stepping inside, “This is my place.”

You actually love your house. Considering the L.A. housing market, you’re blessed to even rent a home rather than an apartment, let alone without roommates. Renting this space is only made possible by the fact it was one of your ex-girlfriend’s friends that owned it, and he cut you a great deal on rent.

Van walks around, examining the decor. All of the walls are painted the same color, a light gray that matches the wooden floors nicely. And although furniture is sparse throughout the rest of the house, you’re actually quite proud of the work you’ve done furnishing the front room; There’s a dark blue sectional, although not as plush or big as Van’s, along with a nice coffee table that has storage built into the sides. They sit atop a white and blue striped rug that ties everything together nicely, facing the television sitting proudly on it’s stand.

The dining table shares the space, a cheap white set with metal legs you had managed to snag on sale.

You’ve got two bedrooms, but one of them is unfurnished, instead holding boxes of things from your move you’d never felt like unpacking. A lot of it is things you’d packed to move cross country as a teenager. Too sentimental to throw away, too childish to keep around.

Your actual bedroom is simple, a queen bed and a dresser. A bookshelf that was covered with more clutter than books. You feel yourself holding your breath as Van peeks his head into the different rooms, getting a feel for everything.

“It’s really fucking nice,” He says finally, and you feel yourself exhale. “I love the windows.”

You beam at his mention of the windows. The natural light is one of the things that made you feel like it was love at first sight here. “Me too.”

Van sets his backpack down on the kitchen table.

“Sorry it’s smaller than you’re used to,” You can’t help but say.

Van cracks a lopsided smile. “I’m used to hotel rooms, really. This place is huge compared to those.”

You laugh, your nerves always eased by his humor. “I’ll get the pizza going.”

The evening slides by quietly. You two work side by side in the kitchen, bumping hips and hands while you place pepperonis. You’re quiet during dinner, too focused on scarfing down your food. Afterward, Van offers to wash the dishes while you start on your shower. You try to talk him out of that plan, but he’s insistent on helping. You eventually give in.

As you scrub your makeup off under the hot water, you realize this is the most natural you’ve ever been in front of Van. Even if you’re not always wearing a full face of makeup like did today, you’re always adamant about having some tinted moisturizer or mascara on when you’re with him. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t criticize your appearance; You just hoped he’d keep the shock off of his face when he first sees you.

The hot water invigorates you with a fresh boost of energy, washing off the fatigue that’s been hanging over you since Van’s house.

You head into your bedroom, the only thing covering you the threadbare towel wrapped around you. Van is sitting on your bed, tapping away at his laptop. He doesn’t look up as you make your way to your dresser.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, and you hear the soft noise of his computer closing.

“Getting dressed,” You tell him, procuring a pair of underwear and folded t-shirt from their respective drawers.

“Well, stop,” Van demands. At the slap of his hand against your comforter you turn around, confused. He’s slapped the space next to him, and he motions to it with a nod of his head. “Get over here.”

You feel a laugh bubble up from the nerves stewing in your stomach. “What?”

Even as you question him you still obey, abandoning the underwear and shirt in favor of sitting on the edge of the bed in your towel.

“Lay down,” Van insists, patting the bed again. “I’ve got a favor to return, don’t I?”

You swallow hard. You hadn’t forgotten his proposal, the way it fizzled away with no real resolution. A part of your brain had clung onto his words, nervously hoping he’d follow through. The part of you that didn’t want to get your hopes up had convinced yourself to forget about it and get dressed.

“It doesn’t work that way,” You assure him sternly. “It’s not tit-for-tat.”

Van isn’t phased. His lopsided smile makes another appearance from where he’s already stood up from the bed, stripping away his clothes.

“But that wouldn’t be polite of me.” He tosses his crewneck at you teasingly. It’s damp from being pressed against his post-shower body. You throw it to the floor for him. He does the same with his t-shirt.

Once he’s down to his briefs he meanders around the room, setting the scene. You gaze at him in wide-eyed curiosity as he shuts the bedroom door, turns off the bedside lamp, and motions to the windows.

“Want me to close these?”

The sun was close to slipping under the horizon, the last rays of light weakly shining. And unlike Van’s house, there were neighbors with their own windows close by. “Yeah, close ‘em,” You agree.

Once that’s done Van turns back to you, still sitting shell-shocked on the bed. He motions to your towel, still wrapped tightly around your midsection. “You gonna let go?”

You hadn’t realized how tightly your fingers had been clenching the fold to keep it in place. At his words you relax your hands. The fabric doesn’t unfold all the way, but Van climbs back onto the bed, his fingers slipping against your bare skin as he untucks it.

“Why are you so tense?” He asks as he slips the towel away from your body, off the edge of the bed. He smiles at you, amused and relaxed. “You’re stiff as a board.”

“I’m nervous.” It’s easier to admit now that the lights are off and the windows are closed. There’s still light pressing against the blinds, but the blanket of shadows relaxes you.

“Bad experiences?”

Van is still fussing with the pillows while he talks to you, getting some to fill the gap between the two sleeping spaces. Once he’s satisfied he pushes at you gently, silently asking you to lay down. You do.

You stare at your ceiling for a moment before answering. “Not really bad.” You chew the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “Mediocre, for sure. Lots of pressure.”

Van’s palm presses warm against the soft skin of your stomach. You shiver, tilting your neck so you can look at him where he’s hovering next to you, sitting on his knees. He swipes his thumb back and forth against your skin in a reassuring motion.

“Lucky for you, there’s no pressure,” He shrugs. “We can always do somethin’ else. Just say the word.”

You nod, taking his words in. “Right.”

He lifts his hand from your stomach, running it through his hair. “No bullshit, remember?”

You remember the pinky promise you’d made after your first date. It feels like forever ago. You jokingly lift you arm to salute him. “No bullshit.”

Van chuckles as he salutes you back. The lightheartedness helps you relax.

After the salute Van climbs up onto his hands and knees, making his way down your body. He places a kiss here or there as he goes; one on your shoulder, one near one of your nipples, by your belly button, the top of your thigh. He takes his time getting comfortable between your legs, squirming and adjusting. He presses his fingertips against the inside of your knees and you let him bend your legs, opening them to his preferred angle.

You clench your hands into the fabric of your comforter, laying there open and vulnerable. The build up is excruciating. He spends time running his fingertips over you, feather light. There’s not enough pressure to create friction but you feel the sparks nonetheless. He nuzzles into the crook of your thigh, his hair tickling you wherever it brushes. You’ve got to reach one of your hands down to scratch an itch from it, and since you’re there you lace your fingers into his hair. It grounds you to be able to feel him, to have an idea of his next move.

It still catches you off guard when he presses his lips right against your clit. He pulls away quickly, leaving a light kiss, but the sensation buzzes through you for much longer. Just when it starts to fizzle out he leans in again, more pressure but too quick again, over as soon as it began. You groan in impatience, tugging on his hair.

He takes you seriously after that. In one sweeping motion his breath floats hot over your skin before his mouth is pressed against you, there to stay. His lips part for his tongue to caress you, firm but forgiving, rough and smooth and warm all at once and you cry out from it.

Van is relentless. You can’t catch a full breath, desperately gasping for air as he works enthusiastically and without pause. Even as you squirm against the blankets he’s determined to keep his spot, his face pressing between your legs insistently. It only makes you squirm more, every nerve in your body firing off without being able to catch a break.

You’re so focused on his mouth that the sensation of his calloused fingertips brushing against your entrance goes unnoticed at first. It’s only when he gets a rhythm going, a smooth circle that repeats over and over that you jolt. You don’t have the brainpower to give him any verbal affirmation. Your body lifts it’s hips on its own, instinctively attempting to press down onto his fingers, physically begging for more, more, more.

If there’s only one lesson you can take from this experience, it’s how attuned Van is to your body. At your hip’s request he eases his two fingers in, pressing slow and deep, persisting even as you clench tight around him, desperate to feel the contours of his fingers.

He makes some small movements, but they’re not necessary. The sensation of being full and also stimulated by his mouth at the same time is so overpowering that he’s barely got to put any work in anymore. The two distinctly different sensations blend together, running up your spine. It feels like you’re about to be split down the center from how good it feels.

Holding Van’s hair just isn’t enough. No matter how tight you were clenching the roots of his hair you needed more. It felt like if you grabbed your comforter you’d rip it apart at the seams. You grope at your pillows, sinking your fingertips into the soft surface, contorting it as your hands clenched into tense fists.

Van groans against you seconds before you come, like he feels something you don’t. His arms hold your thighs open wide as you seize through it, shouting at first before quieting down to moans. You whimper when it’s done washing over you, the sensitivity setting in as he continues to gingerly lick.

“Okay,” You croak, gently nudging at his scalp. “Ow.”

He’s beaming as he pulls away, satisfaction oozing off of him as he wipes at his mouth.

“Bad experience?” He jokes as he scrambles off of the bed. He’s still in his briefs, a fact that surprises you. He strips them off, clumsy in his eagerness, clamoring back on the bed.

You’re still on cloud nine, too far away to be able to engage with his teasing. You only snort in laughter.

Van’s sitting up on his knees, hand around himself. His dick looks painfully hard.

“Gimme something to blow into.” His voice is laced with urgency.

“C’mere,” You murmur, spreading your legs apart. You use a hand on his side to try and guide him to kneel between your legs, but he falters in confusion. “Between my legs,” You whine, too hazy for explanations.

He knees you as he repositions himself. Unable to read your mind, he starts jerking off again, preparing to come on your thighs.

“Hold on, chill out,” You grumble playfully, batting his hand away from himself.

He huffs in frustration but you ignore him, stretching your arm to the limit in order to grasp the bottle of lotion you’d left on your bedside table the other day after moisturizing after your shower. You squeeze a good dollop into your palm before wrapping your fingers around him. His sigh of relief cuts so raw through his throat you feel your body buzz with an aftershock.

“Come forward a little,” You guide him, jerking him off over your stomach. He thrusts against your hand, his balls hanging heavy between his legs.

You do him the favor of using your other hand to lend them some attention, realizing with regret you had no idea what his preferences were. Thankfully, your standard palming seems to work fine.

You watch his face as he comes, your focus unbroken as he splatters hot and thick all over your stomach. You keep your hand moving until you see the tension ease out of his forehead and around his eyes. Until he’s finally blinking back at you, disoriented.

There’s only the sound of heavy breathing for a moment. It’s jarring compared to all the noise that previously filled the room.

“I gotta go clean myself off,” You excuse yourself quickly, feeling his come dry against your skin. You make your way on wobbly legs to the bathroom, soaking a towel in the sink before scrubbing at your stomach.

You startle when Van taps at the door. At your invitation he peeks his head in, watching your futile attempt to clean his mess. Everywhere the water dried there was a crusty sheen of white.

“Get in the shower with me,” He mumbles, taking it upon himself to start fussing with the knobs, getting the water running without any assistance.

“You just showered,” You point out.

“Gotta rewash my hair.” He sounds completely zapped of energy.

You abandon the wet hand towel on the tile, deciding to worry about it tomorrow. You climb back into the shower you’d just emerged from, shifting around the tight space to share it with Van, who’s already wetting his hair.

It’s strange being in this space with Van. You’ve never been one for casual nakedness, always at least wearing a shirt and underwear around the house. Standing in the fluorescent bathroom lighting, watching Van carefully rinse away any excess lotion from the folds of his foreskin feels too intimate. You focus on yourself instead, keeping your head bent low while you run your loofa over your stomach. It only takes Van a few minutes to massage your shampoo through his hair, and then you two are getting back out. You pass him a towel before wrapping one around yourself.

“Got a toothbrush I can borrow?” He requests, and you pull a spare one from the closet, letting him struggle with the cardboard packaging as you get a head start brushing your own teeth.

He bumps you with his hip, nudging you over so you two can both share the mirror.

Then you’re both back in your bedroom, a sense of deja vu as you get dressed in the shirt and underwear that was already sitting on top of the dresser.

The quiet starts to worry you as you climb into bed. You worry suddenly that this was intended to be some sort of goodbye. That this whole strange ritual of head-giving and spending the night at your place and staying close to each other was Van’s way of giving you guys a last hurrah before letting you know that he realized things weren’t working. Maybe the hypothetical London girl wanted commitment.

Van lights a cigarette as you slip under the sheets with him.

“So…” He starts, before looking over at you. You gulp.

“That was… not mediocre, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“M’serious!” Van laughs, his cigarette moving dangerously through the air as he gestures with his hands.

“You just want me to stroke your ego,” You scoff, lightly elbowing him.

“Guess I’m the devil for checking in on you, then.” Van shrugs in a faux pout.

“What do you want me to say?” You tip your head back, sighing dramatically. “Oh, Van McCann, that was the best head I’ve ever gotten. I’ve only come twice from head and it’s been from you both times.” You flop down onto your mattress dramatically. “I’m truly so blessed you chose me tonight out of all those girls at the show.”

“Oh, that was a low blow,” Van jokes, hand over his heart in mock pain. “No need to bring up the groupies.”

You giggle, flipping onto your stomach and shifting your weight on your elbows so you can look up at him.

“I guess I’m just asking because I’m confused,” Van says, tapping his ashes into the empty can of Coke he’d left on the bedside table. “Like you said, you’ve only ever made it across the finish line two times. But… you had that girlfriend, didn’t you?”

You tense in habitual defensiveness. Through the course of your relationship with her, and any time coming out after, fielding questions from nosy men who want you to indulge them in their girl-on-girl fantasies is a familiar insult.

“Did I have a girlfriend? Yes,” You play dumb, pressing him for a question with more specifics.

Van sees right through you. He rolls his eyes. “I mean, lads aren’t great at getting it right, y’know. Your setup’s fucking confusing. I’m the first to admit I’m daft about the whole thing and fucking shit to sleep with. But wouldn’t another girl get it?”

At its core, Van’s question has a lewd essence you’ve encountered before. One that wants you to describe how good women are in bed, how they always get it right and every encounter is sensual and just like they’ve seen in porn.

But it’s clear Van has a genuine interest. A real desire to get to know you better and learn about your sexual history. With that in mind, you sigh.

“I mean…” You start, then stop. Try to carefully put your words together. “First of all, every girl has a different… setup. You’ve got to know that much,” You narrow your eyes at him, accusatory.

Van waves his hand in dismissal. “Right. Does my head in.”

“Well it’s the same with guys! I can’t walk up to any guy on the street and know exactly what he’d like. You might know your way around- for the most part- but it’s still different with everyone. Plus,” You feel self-consciousness creep over you at how intently Van’s clinging onto your words, “We were each other’s first girl, ya know, so it was all new and weird. And she wasn’t very interested in that sort of thing. It’s not something we did often. I dunno. It just didn’t work the way you think it does.”

Van stubs his cigarette out. “And how do I think it works?”

“Like porn,” You insist. “That’s how everyone thinks it goes.”

Van shakes his head, amused. “I’m grown enough to know that absolutely nothing goes like porn, okay? You say shit that I get curious about!”

When you don’t respond, he elaborates.

“Like… If you’re telling me you’ve never come from getting head, and I’m planning on doing that, I’d like to know why!” He laughs, throwing up his hands in innocence. “Like I said, I’m shit! I’d like to improve my chances!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re weird!” You tell him. “Asking about exes is weird! I don’t wanna know about yours. It makes for competition.”

You flop onto your back after your declaration, feeling Van’s body shake in silent laughter beside you.

“I lied,” You blurt out, rolling onto your side to click your lamp off as Van starts to settle in. “I do wanna know one thing.”

“Alright.”

“How many have you told about the roughing-up thing?”

“None. And you weren’t supposed to remember that,” He frowns in the darkness at you.

“None? Really?”

“Well… Most of the times something would happen organically, I guess. Things get rough in the moment, y’know. But I never spelled it out.”

You hum. There’s a strand of hair that’s flopped over his eyes, and you carefully tuck it away. “Gotcha,” You say around a yawn.

The room goes quiet.

“G’night,” You tell Van, giving him a pat on his shoulder before turning around, nestling into your sheets.

“Night,” Van says quietly.

Soon, the room glows blue from his phone.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann fic #vanfic #catb

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tigerclawsremorse · 4 years

Text

Warm sunlight trickled through the slim entrance of the medic’s den, shimmering onto the sleeping Tigerclaw. The morning light turned his tabby fur into a glistening soft brown, speckled with the bright particles in the beam. The light lulled Tigerclaw awake. Stretching out his legs, he was released from the stiff grip of sleep.

“Hiya Tiger,” Spottedleaf squeezed into the den, momentarily blocking out the sunlight. “You look like you slept well,” she laughed and pawed at his ruffled fur.

Frowning, Tigerclaw sat up, casting his gaze away from Spottedleaf, “...I’m sorry, Leaf,” he sighed, “I should have known better by now, I should have listened to you more. I almost killed Clawface... I could have killed him,” his claws pressed into the nest.

“But you didn’t,” she smiled and cocked her head to the side, “That’s got to count for something.”

Swiping a paw over his face to do some grooming, he shook his head, “It can’t count for much if I thought about doing it though.”

That made Spottedleaf’s soft face sour into a frown, hidden partly as she lapped down some of Tigerclaw’s messy neck fur, “It would have taken a lifetime to teach you everything. I can teach herbs just fine, but being good, that comes from you. But so does being bad… and so does just kinda being in the middle. Maybe you’re not the best, but at least you're getting better. I'm proud of you for having done that much.

“We can’t always control what we think, sometimes it’s just part of us, you already had a lifetime thinking like that.”

“I still have a lifetime to get better, I guess.” The tom looked up at the tortoiseshell with a smile, but it was quickly lost as he saw her expression when she pulled away from him.

Looking almost in shock, her eyes were wide and her mouth hung a little open, “Don’t you remember that battle, Tigerclaw?” Her gaze was not meeting his eyes, it was on his neck. “How it ended for you?

“I'm of course still proud of you for all you’ve done but—“

Piercing pain shot through Tigerclaw, the spot that Spottedleaf had lapped down was pulsing. His amber eyes flickered down to see blood flow steadily from an open wound that stretched from his chest up his neck. As he had his head tilted down he could feel more blood pooling in the back of his throat. He gagged to spit it out, scrambling to his paws. As heavily as blood oozed from his neck, it leaked out of his mouth.

“You know, I’m proud of you too, Tigerclaw.” Laughed a raspy voice from behind him. “Even after all that nonsense in the medicine cat den, you’re still you. You’re still a warrior at heart.” Thistleclaw started up a new cackle and circled around the gagging tom, “You’re still my apprentice.”

“Nowe Iahm” Tigerclaw sputtered, the blood clogging his mouth, “Noo ‘m” he tried again.

“Now hush,” Thistleclaw sneered, “You listen to me again. You did your deeds and no amount of leaf picking and star praising saved your pitiful soul.”

Tigerclaw shook his head, splattering blood on the rough dead ground, and backed away from the gray tom. In the harsh light of the forest, tall shadows casted down on Thistleclaw and displayed his ragged and unwashed fur with coarse patches that looked to be black with rot. If he was any skinnier his bones would surely be breaking out of his skin. Even his face held a hollow expression, like it was practically a skull.

“We’ll be making our plans of revenge till the day we’ve both turned to dust!” As he laughed, his whole body shook, dust flittered into the air.

“Noa! Noo! No!” Choking, Tigerclaw swiped at his old mentor as he backed away.

“Yeah you get in your practice shots, we have a lifetime to train!” Thistleclaw fell and rolled with horrid laughter, his body—his bones— clanking against the ground as he howled, “A lifetime!”

“Leef! Leaf! Spottedleaf! Spottedleaf!” Tigerclaw gagged, in trying to continue moving away from Thistleclaw, he felt his paws sink into the muddy forest ground. In a heartbeat he was up to his stomach in thick mud, “Leaf!”

“Spottedleaf isn’t here to help you.”

“Spotted...leaf.” Tigerclaw repeated, his eyes slowly adjusting to the new light to see the gray cat who stood above him was not the decaying corpse of his old mentor, but Yellowfang. Quickly, Tigerclaw recognized the scent of the medic’s den and the rough patient's nest he was currently settled in.

“If you keep calling for her you’re gonna wind up meeting her in StarClan because your wound will reopen.” The ShadowClan molly snapped.

“I’m… sorry.” He said softly, being cautious to speak as his throat felt as if he had been eating sand in his sleep, “Water, please?”

With a grunt she turned and left the den, returning a few moments later with a wad of semi-soaked moss. She set it in front of him and surprisingly to Tigerclaw, took a seat near the edge of the den.

“Am I the only,” he involuntarily paused to wheeze, “only one down here?”

“Besides me, yep, everyone else was out of here yesterday or earlier today, not too many serious injuries all and all. Whoever you pissed off to get clawed so bad must have really had it out for you.” She spoke in a joking tone but neither of them laughed.

“Yeah, I don’t need to know about it,” Yellowfang faced towards the den entrance, “Thank the stars that they didn’t kill you, surprising I know, but even the great Tigerclaw could be killed.”

“That’s not such a surprising concept.” He croaked a dry answer.

“Gone through some personal developments lately? From what Firepaw says about you, I never could have guessed you were the reflective type.”

He lapped at the last drops of water in the moss, “Something like that.” He had briefly been confused why Yellowfang was still hanging around, after all, ShadowClan had now been cleared of those who had exiled her, but he considered she was most likely invited to join ThunderClan, now that they were missing a medicine cat. Another sting of pain made him gasp slightly and have to contain his ragged breathing.

Yellowfang, turning back towards Tigerclaw, opened her mouth before shutting it quickly in hesitation.

“I don’t need advice or anything.” Tigerclaw propped himself up on his front legs, “I don’t need anything right now… except maybe more water.”

Yellowfang obliged and resoaked his moss ball. “I also noticed all the time you spent with Spottedleaf,”

“Did Firepaw tell you about that too?” He turned his head away from Yellowfang to hide his deep furrowed brows and eyes he was sure were filled with sorrow at even the mention of her name.

“No,” she scoffed, “I can see.” She paused again, “Maybe you think you’re impenetrable, but I have a sort of knack for seeing the truth in cats.”

The warm sun turned cold, as if a cloud had blown over it suddenly. Tigerclaw could feel himself shaking in the nest, Yellowfang could most certainly see it too. Yellowfang did not need a knack to see the truth if Firepaw had spilled the tabby’s secret to the old she-cat.

Darkstripe got a good hit in, but Ravenpaw at last would deal the final blow.

“You’re not what you seem to be, Tigerclaw.” She carried on as Tigerclaw got unsteadily to his paws. “I see the good in you that you’ve hid away.”

He blinked at the medic and it seemed for the first time, met her eyes. ‘ It’s a trick you mouse-brain, ’ shouted a voice in his head, ‘ Maybe, but shut up.’ He thought in reply.

“Nobody is born with evil in their heart,” her yellow eyes looked far away and clouded, “even if it feels like it’s your destiny.”

“Have I missed the vigils yet?” He meowed quickly and took shaky steps towards the exit.

“No, they’re to be held at sunhigh.” Yellowfang answered, still deep in her own thoughts.

“It looks to be sunhigh now.” He shook his head and gazed back at her.

“Oh.” She gave a curt response, not looking to meet his gaze again.

The walk up the medic tunnel felt like the long hike to the moonpool, each step making him take a gasp of air. He was tempted to stop along the path and tighten his bandages to see if that may help, but he decided against it. ShadowClan may do a different kind of wrap than ThunderClan and he could not risk the walk back down to ask Yellowfang to fix it. As quickly as he could manage, he poked his head into the clearing.

There was a quiet hush around the camp, only the scurrying of cats repairing dens and the whispers of clumps of cats chatting amongst themselves. Tigerclaw could even pick up on birds chirps outside of camp, he took a heartbeat to gather a large breath and take in the serenity.

The vigil had not started yet, obviously as no meeting had been called nor did Spottedleaf’s body lay in camp. Tigerclaw’s usual resting frown, deeping at the thought and he thrust his head away from the sight where she soon would be.

Luckily enough, he didn’t feel any eyes looking upon him as he padded along the outskirts of camp. For the first time, he had made his way across the entire clearing without being trailed by Darkstripe. ‘ He must have stayed in ShadowClan, good riddance.’ Still, he felt a pang of unexpected sadness.

‘ All he ever did was look up to me.’ He thought grimly, ‘ I did the same thing to Thistleclaw.’

Being swept away in thought made it easier to trek along camp, he soon arrived at the nursery.

For a moment he watched the queens all bunched together in their nests, sitting up and chatting about whatever queens chat about. Peering in, he was quickly noticed by Frostfur, “Tigerclaw, if you’re looking for Goldenflower, she’s off in the leader’s den with Bluestar and Brindleface preparing Spottedleaf for the vigil.” She spoke between her lapping at her kits, especially licking at one that whined softly.

“Oh, okay,” he nodded, “are your kits alright?”

Frostfur shrugged, “I suppose, Yellowfang said they weren’t harmed any. Well expect for this one,” she nudged the whining kit, “They got a knick in their ear.”

“Afterwhile, go ask Yellowfang for some raspberry leaves and marigold, they should help the kit.” He instructed.

“What, was Spottedleaf teaching you herbs down there?” She tilted her head at the tom.

“What else would she have been doing?” Tigerclaw grimaced and turned to walk away.

“That’s not we thought she was doing, huh Speckletail,” Frostfur spoke in a tone like a whisper, but still at a pitch where Tigerclaw could hear her clearly. Speckletail did not reply, Tigerclaw guessed she was asleep, but it didn’t matter to him too much.

“Tigerclaw,” meowed a friendly voice as the tabby laid against a wall of the camp waiting for the vigil. He had planned on talking to Goldenflower, but he couldn’t imagine bringing himself to see Spottedleaf so soon.

“Whitestorm.” Tigerclaw greeted back.

“That’s just like you Tiger,” he smiled, “back on your paws in no time. ShadowClan really thought they could take down ThunderClan’s greatest warrior? What a pack of smart-ears. Yellowfang did a very good job in clearing you up too.”

Tigerclaw listened to the deputy ramble, Whitestorm usually only spoke so much when he was nervous, and he was only nervous when Bluestar was nervous.

“Couldn’t save them all though,” Whitestorm meowed in a grimmer tone.

“Yes, it's a shame what happened to Spottedleaf.” Tigerclaw dipped his head, “We were very good friends and she was-“

“Uh,” Whitestorm interrupted, “I meant it was Ravenpaw who died in the battle. We couldn’t even find his body, but Firepaw and Graypaw both said they were ganged up on and Ravenpaw fought bravely and practically sacrificed himself. I know how closely you were watching his progress.”

Ravenpaw….dead.

“How awful.” Tigerclaw shook his head and spoke in his deep monotone voice. “Truly awful news.”

“I know, he didn’t even get his name—“

“All cats who can catch their own prey, gather for a clan meeting.” Bluestar summoned. All the drama of the past few moons had taken their toll on the leader, but now she seemed more like her usual self, presentable, strong, judging.

“Battles never come without their losses, and in this case, betrayals. We have lost clan members, but also gained them. Let us not despair in the past, but look to the times that are to come as is the duty of any cat in ThunderClan. We honor today, Fireheart and Graystripe who have earned their warrior names and sat vigil, Spottedleaf and Ravenpaw, who died in the great fight to serve their clan, and Yellowfang, our newest member of ThunderClan.”

Yowls echoed through the camp, of joy and loss and overall celebration. Tigerclaw sighed and for a moment, smelled the sweet scent of Spottedleaf linger in the air.

“Today is a new day,” Yellowfang spoke up from under high rock, “I am glad to call ThunderClan my new home, but I must admit, I am old and weary. That shouldn’t come as a shock to any of you,” she laughed, “For the clan’s sake and for my own, so I may retire before I join StarClan, I ask to mentor an apprentice to help ThunderClan after I am gone.” Her eyes pierced into Tigerclaw’s as she unblinkingly looked straight at him.

“Yes of course, Yellowfang,” Bluestar dipped her head, “we can certainly-“

Tigerclaw stepped a pace towards Yellowfang, who in return nodded her head, “Bluestar,” he interjected, “I have spent these past few moons training under Spottedleaf, now she is gone, I would like for it to be continued with Yellowfang so that I may receive my full medicine cat name under StarClan.” He felt his mind go blank and if he didn’t stop himself he would ramble on too long. His paws were numb, but he could still feel himself standing on shaky legs, waiting for Bluestar’s reply.

Everyone in the clan was looking at him. He would rather die on spot than turn and face them, what could they be thinking about him.

The heartbeat of silence quickly turned to a tension filled pause. If Bluestar refused him, he gulped, “Bluestar I-“ he started again and took a crooked step back.

“Very well Tigerclaw. If Yellowfang accepts, it shall be. ThunderClan has been through wilder changes.”

“I do not dare dishonor the memory of Spottedleaf by refusing her apprentice,” Yellowfang padded to Tigerclaw, who was frozen in place, and pressed her nose to his. “Here is your first step to change,” she whispered to him, “it wasn’t learning herbs and wallowing, it was admitting what you need.”

“Sure.” He quickly licked her shoulders to conclude the ceremony. “But it’s not just about going to StarClan.”

Yellowfang raised an eyebrow.

“I really do think being a medicine cat will be good for me, I liked learning herbs and all that.” He padded back to the edge of camp, Yellowfang a pace behind him.

“That’s good,” she chuckled, “you still have a lot more learning to do. Frostfur told me to give her raspberry leaves and marigold, and I told her what kind of toadstool for brains told her to mix those together.”

“Sorry maybe my memory isn’t so sharp right now,” he twitched his ear awkwardly, “I’ll do better I promise.” Brief visions of Thistleclaw flashed in his mind as he remembered what it was like to be an apprentice. Shivering, he shook his head to forget the thought.

“It’s not that bad of a mistake,” she broke his concentration, “both would do the job to help, but together it might be too much for just a kit.” She explained with a slanted smile.

“Of course,” he sat up, “being partially right has to count for something, yeah?”

“Maybe in practice,” Yellowfang looked up to her apprentice, “but let’s keep you from treating patients solo for a little while longer, you’ve got my whole life to learn what you need.”

“I thought you said you wanted to retire?”

“I think I’ll have to change my plans if I have to mentor you, making a fighter into a healer is more than teaching herb combinations.”

He puffed out his chest and watched the meeting continue on. Even with a large wound in his neck, he felt he could finally breath again. He couldn’t predict how everyone would view him from now on, and in for this moment, he wouldn’t let it matter. Worries could be put off just until he set his vigil for Spottedleaf and his training would really begin. “I think I’ll do well.”

“That’s some gross optimism,” Yellowfang shook her head, “you get it from Spottedleaf.”

#med cat tigerclaw #tigerclaw #yellowfang #whitestorm #Thistleclaw #bluestar #spottedleaf #chapter 15

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lunar-lair · 4 years

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Ok so like,,,,,,,,,Concept

Mermaid au but All the sides are mermaids and Thomas is the only human among them

Like humans still exist and stuff and it's probably modern day but mermaids don't really...interact with humans much

They aren't really *dangerous,* since most people don't believe they exist anyways, but mermaids just. Don't see them much. They never come out to deep enough waters or come by the coast at the right times or stay long enough, and most mermaids don't see it fit to expose themselves anyways.

Idk what fish everyone is yet, I plan on looking that up later, honestly, but I've got some Other ideas.

Anyways uh,,,,,,Remus is totally the one who finds Thomas first

He was with Roman, the two of them just seeing if any humans were hanging out near the beach. They were about ready to leave to go back to where the others were (they have a little grotto they've claimed for themselves that most other mermaids don't touch, probably mostly bc Remus terrifies them)

And then Remus stopped, hearing a human singing a song. That sounded like it was underwater. And was *also* an ancient siren's song, wh-?

Remus grabbed Roman by the shoulders and dragged him back closer to the shore, telling him to listen.

Both sat stunned for a moment.

Mermaids have their own language that most humans can't understand; it's a lot of singing and humming and clicking + a few deviations for different species, like accents for humans. Most of this language is due to mermaids being descendants of sirens, though nowadays they have different, more complex powers that align with a species and then deviate between people, in some circumstances, though most of them still relate to singing in *some* way. (Dw, the boys are all getting their own powers.)

Mermaids can understand humans, but just barely, most of the time. This human though, he was singing something they understood loud and clear.

They took a spot on a rock near him, Remus hiding behind Roman a bit. (He's always been the scarier of the two, and Roman is more social anyways. Plus...it was an old habit left over from when they were kids, ok? Don't judge.)

When the man stopped singing, eyes opening, he took a moment to look around

and then simply *froze* when he noticed fucking *mermaids* right in front of him, what the hell-

Thomas was just singing an old song his parents had sung to him when he was a child, why are there fucking *mermaids* here??

Roman quickly explained that *yes* we're mermaids but also YOU were the one singing an ancient siren song

And then the dude was like 'oh yeah I'm hearin ya' and they were like 'HH???'

Slowly, they explained that 'dude humans usually can't understand mermaids and we can't usually understand them, wh-'

And then the man's face scrunched up and he began speaking human speak, eyes widening as he switched again. "...how the Hell didn't I realize I was speaking in hums and whistles."

"Ya might be siren born!" Remus chimed from behind Roman, sharp teeth grinning wide as he moved out from behind him a little more.

Thomas was just like '???' and so they explained that 'yeah you might have siren descendants, we have a friend who knows more tho'

The twins talked with the man a little more, finding his name was Thomas and he was coming out to the beach because he used to come here a lot as a kid. Not to mention that the sea was...calling to him, he felt, as it always had.

"Definitely siren born," Roman muttered.

Anyways, after a little more talking and the boys introducing themselves-Roman and Remus, twins-and their powers-able to create anything they desire with a certain song and the right ingredients-they told Thomas to wait there and got the other four.

Thomas didn't get to ask what the "power" they mentioned was all about, but he simply waited.

Roman and Remus returned with the others, the twins settling on the same rock and most of the others just popping up from the water.

They introduced themselves, one by one;

Logan, able to help anyone understand or learn anything by simply humming in their hearing range. He's helped his stupid friends figure shit out like this a few too many times. He knows a lot about many things, as well; his powers are *made* to help people learn, and it pulls him to learn enough to properly do so.

Janus, able to deceive or trick anyone he wishes with the right song. He's also able to make anyone believe what he wishes them to, which he usually just uses to basically go 'psst. Taking a nap is a good idea' to his friends most of the time. He is not easy to trick, but he has a habit of lying, as it is what his powers are made for. It's also very difficult to get him to believe anything besides what he does at the time.

Virgil, able to make anyone fear or not fear anything at all. This is rather useful for keeping others safe and keeping dangerous people and things away from them aswell, but he himself is rather fearful, a result of his purpose being to manipulate others' fears.

Patton, able to spread any emotion he pleases, and able to sense emotions. This is useful in helping the others calm down and making sure they're ok. He's very emotional, however, and is often scrambled with his own between broadcasting emotions and sensing outside ones. A part of him is naturally against feeling negative emotions, as he fears he may accidently broadcast them. And either way, he's made to spread good, *useful* emotions, right?

And Roman and Remus' repercussions; Roman can only make certain things and same for Remus. Twins often share powers in this way, split between them. They also basically never stop thinking about what things to make, which makes them a little spacey. Remus is also prone to violent creations, and Roman flowery ones, as that's part of their bias as two halves. When they work together, it's absolutely perfect. Their harmonies are known for their beauty, similar voices harmonizing perfectly to put together things neither could dream of making on their own. Of course, it does take quite a bit of harmony from the two themselves, but they usually manage it. (There's a chance part of Remus' hectic personality is due to people disliking his creations for their darkness, and that part of Roman's theatrics and happy tune is part of trying to keep his side of their creations, but that's a different story, and a problem they're working on anyways.)

After Thomas asks about the "powers" stuff, Logan tells him simple and clean; "due to the fact that mermaids are descendants of sirens, we often have our own versions of their ability to lure others in with their songs. For instance;" Logan gave a simple hum, and suddenly Thomas knew the random (but slightly pertinent) fact that twin mermaids often have powers split between them.

As for the rest of the AU, Thomas just generally learns more about mermaids and stuff and eventually, over some time and some investigating into his family history that *yea I'm a descendant of a siren holy shit.* Thomas' power seemed to be a rather weak version of ancient sirens'; he's able to attract people to him, basically. People hear him singing and go 'wow he seems super cool I should talk to him'. Like um...friendship powers. Literally friendship powers.

Which is uh. Probably part of the reason the sides ended up becoming friends with him in the first place.

I don't know exactly what ocean creature everyone is going to be yet, and it probably won't change their Power(tm) (wow I need a better name for those) but it miiiight change their role in their group a little bit/the headcanons I have for how everyone is going to act, so I'll have to wait and see. For now though, I'll give you the basic idea:

Roman and Remus are the chaos twins, of course. They go around creating whatever the hell they want, basically-within reason. Mostly. Remus scares off any other mermaids for the most part and Roman talks to the ones that seem nice and assures them that they're just trying to keep their little grotto safe. The two of them were abandoned and grew up pretty much alone. They only had each other. They've got a pretty unbreakable bond-oh and also they have an *infinite* amount of teasing material and inside jokes.

Virgil also instills a little fear in most of them of specifically *hurting* him and his friends/messing with their shit. It used to be pure 'yeah fear us' when he didn't have as good as a grasp on his powers and just Panicked anytime anyone came up but now he's more like 'yeah just leave us alone pls'.

Janus? Absolutely the local mom. Goes around forcing everyone to sleep well and to eat and to *preserve your goddamn voices you idiots, I know we all love singing here but our voices are Important ok-*

Also forces Remus to stop chasing local tiny fish and is the only one that can really keep him in line. (Roman can too, for the most part, but he doesn't rlly mind Remus' random shit for the most part.)

Logan usually leaves for at least part of the day to explore and find more things out. He exhausted most tests he could of the other fives' powers to understand them better in about the first month, but he still has it filed away in his Memory Brain. (And that memory of his is exceptional; another important part of what makes his powers useful, and thus extremely pertinent.) Other than that he's usually telling the others off for doing stupid shit or telling someone stuff if they want to hear. (One of the others sits down every couple days and lets him infodump on specific fish and stuff like that. Sometimes verbally, sometimes through his hums, depending on the day.)

Patton is usually goin' around spreading good feels and fixing any bad ones he finds along the way. He's always checking on everyone, always making sure everyone's happy and ok, and they make sure he is in turn.

Sidenote for the Glasses Boys: yeah no I don't think they have glasses. Maybe it's more like...hm...they were born with slightly weak voices, ones that were wobbly. A simple fix, just as glasses are; simply more singing, more training of the voice, and they're mostly up to snuff.

Second sidenote, mermaids can sing without using their powers, but it's fairly rare as most see it as a necessity rather than something fun. The sides love singing, though, and random singing without a meaning at all can often be heard ringing through the tiny little home they've carved out.

I just realized I don't know how they sleep. Idk if/how this is going to work depending on what ocean creatures I choose, but currently the plan is they sleep in piles on the ocean floor, inside their grotto/cave thing. Sometimes just a couple of them sleep together, sometimes they'll all pile on. Depends on who goes to sleep when and what piles you want to join. The rule, though, is no one sleeps alone. It's just not as fun, and Patton insists. And we don't ignore Patton in this household, ok?

The twins like/hate sleeping together on their own depending on the night, though they almost always sleep together anyways. Just the two of them reminds them out at sea, alone when they were kids, but it also makes them feel *safe.* On the nights it reminds them of sadder days, they usually just beg one of the others to join them for the night.

It's basically a rule that *someone* has to oblige.

The twins don't sleep right without each other, honestly. Sometimes, though, they need someone else there to remind them of where they are now.

Idk what I'm going to do with the others' backstories, really. If nothing else, tho, current plan is that mermaid parents usually work like ours do; they raise a mermaid until it's mature enough to be out on it's own. This can change between species, though, and is mostly decided by the mermaid and it's parents according to species, preparedness, and like 50 other factors. So it's not quite as set-in-stone as it is for humans.

Remus and Roman were *certainly* too young when they were abandoned; maybe 10 years old when most leave at 16 to anywhere around 24.

No one knows where their mother went. Not even them.

Also just realized they don't have ages,,,,,,,,h

Note: mermaids live longer than humans (around 150 yrs mostly, deviates slightly depending on species) but they still use human ages, since they mature at...kinda the same rate. Sorta. Thomas, of course, will be living a little longer than most; probably 120 yrs or so, as most of his family is known for. (His great grandfather holds the record for humans at 140 yrs. Probably only a couple lines down from that og siren.)

Roman and Remus: 23

Virgil: 22

Patton: 24

Janus: 25

Logan: 24

Thomas: 23

Mermaid lifespans would probably be a lot shorter if most predators didn't know not to fuck with them. Even animals can understand that mermaids are *powerful,* and can and *will* protects themselves. Most mermaids live peacefully, unless they try to fight each other, which is actually kinda rare since they're usually loners or in small groups like The Boys are and they're usually pretty spread out.

Idk if I'm gonna do any romance for this AU...I'm kinda not in the mood?? Feelin like lettin this just be friends bein friends yknow

Idk. I think that's it for this idea for the moment. I'll come back with any major ideas/those ocean creature designations later, so yknow,,,,,,,,hype for that ig

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sserpente · 5 years

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A/N: Request from anon. I loved the concept… and then I couldn’t stop writing and it went so well with some other ideas I had and it escalated and ahhh, you guys were supposed to get this Imagine three days ago. Anyway… enjoy reading! ♥ Words: 4628 (oops) Warnings: gore/blood, fluff (the combination doesn’t sound right, now does it)

Here’s an extra warning: I got a bit inspired by “Coriolanus” so there will be a very bloody and graphic scene… stuff I usually don’t write myself. As I said though, I really got inspired by the play so I just went along with it, if anything to not repeat myself with this one scene we all hate so much. It thus also might rip open the wounds Infinity War caused. Therefore, the scene will be marked with “*” at the beginning and the end in case you prefer to skip it.

“It’s a myth.”

“It’s not a myth. They are omens of death.” Thor argued. Grinning smugly, he leaned back and took a sip of his beer.

Tony buried his face in his hands. “You know I started believing in many things when you fell out of the sky to help us fight aliens but… there’s a line. ‘Black angels’? With shimmering wings? Please, Point Break.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know. They say only those before their imminent death can see their wings.”

“Have you ever seen an angel then?”

“No! I told you, they are omens of death. Volstagg’s father… he saw one. He swore he did. One week after, he perished.”

“Coincidence.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He had known before that mortals were ignorant and refused to face reality, Stark’s stubbornness however surprised even him. Many creatures shared their stories in the Old Norse myths, stories which his mother had told him before bed when he was a child.

Angels… omens of death. Black, shimmering wings… they said whoever saw one before death, their soul would leave their body contently… that they were of such beauty it would not compare to any other being in the nine realms. As a young boy, Loki had told Frigga he wanted to see one for himself—and Frigga chided him for wishing for such an atrocious thing.

Shivering, you wrapped your black coat around yourself tighter. You had bought it from a street market for little money which you had stolen from a peasant. High up in the sky, you were never cold. You were free. Those human sensations were downright irksome.

Perhaps it was your own fault you had ended up on Midgard of all places. Stranded and stripped off most of your powers, they had cast you out and forced you to live a mortal life—knowing you would never find friends on a planet inhabited by beings that would not grow half as old as you.

Perhaps you should have joined your people when they swore their allegiance to the purple titan. But you knew you would have made the wrong decision. What Thanos wanted was impossible—and you sincerely hoped he would fail. His lackeys were already spreading dread, fear and death across the planet. You had seen them lurking about, watching his evil plans unfold and wreak havoc when it was fun.

A high-pitched scream ripped you from your thoughts. Turning straight on your heel to see what had caused it, your instincts kicked in. Altruistically saving humans wasn’t high on your priority list, kicking Thanos’ monkeys’ arse, however, was. It felt good to ram your poisoned dagger into their hearts… and it least gave you some satisfaction.

You frowned when you reached the dimly lit alley, scanning the area to analyse the situation. Somebody had beaten you to it. Clenching your fists, you recognised both Tony Stark and Captain America along with a raven-haired man with a sharp jawline and the most stunning blue eyes you had ever seen—Loki, God of Mischief.

Thanos’ lackeys were nowhere in sight. Instead, what part of the Avengers… and Loki put up with was a dirty burglar who seemed to have tried to rob a young woman who was currently shaking on the cold ground like autumn leaves in the wind.

“Are you alright, Miss?” You heard Steve Rogers ask her humbly, all the while the burglar—terrified for his life—scrambled to his feet, abandoning the knife he had held. Loki rolled his eyes. With but one effortless movement, he kicked him in the stomach the moment he attempted to run and proceeded to grab his collar to lift him off the ground.

“Please, please… please don’t kill me!” The burglar whimpered. You suppressed a chuckle.

“Let him go, Reindeer Games.”

“Let him go? What did we intervene for? Mercy? I disagree…”

“Nope. FRIDAY has already saved his fingerprints and appearance. The police will get him soon enough. Now let him go. I think he peed his pants.”

Loki’s face distorted when he spotted the wet spot between the burglar’s legs. Disgusted, he did as he was told and threw him back to the ground. He swallowed thickly before hurrying away clumsily. Then, he looked up—and his blue eyes locked with yours.

Paralysed, he captured you in his both scrutinising and fascinated gaze. Your lips parted when you realised that he could see your wings. Dark, shimmering and as soft as a crow’s feather dress they framed your form—petite compared to his—and complimented both your (Y/H/C) hair and (Y/E/C) eyes. You were beautiful.

Neither of you paid attention to the young woman who had stood again by now, approaching Loki timidly. Her ‘thank you’ went unnoticed even when Steve called his name.

“Who are you?” You blinked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Loki’s to face Tony Stark.

“(Y/N)… my name is (Y/N). I am what other beings would refer to as… a black angel.”

Tony snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

One heated discussion after your confession led to another and Captain America and Iron Man—for Loki had remained completely silent—decided to take you back to the compound to speak to Thor. You did not take kindly in spilling your secret to strangers. Hundreds of years ago, humans, Asgardians and other species had hunted you down for amusement, using poison to make your wings visible and cutting them off to sell them on the black market—an ironic name, really.

But this… was different. Loki—the Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, Trickster… son of Laufey and Farbauti and Prince of Asgard—he could see your wings. Legends had been told about connections alike. They said that every living black angel in this universe served a purpose, was meant to follow a path and fulfil its destiny—and to be with one person who loved them dearly for the rest of their existence. Only those that fate chose to be a black angel’s partner would be able to see their wings—to see all of them—in their full glory and true beauty. Loki’s blue eyes were practically glued on you; and if you were not mistaken, there was a hint of panic glistening in his irises too.

Did he feel the connection, perhaps? That you seemed to have found the man your heart would likely belong to for the rest of your life? Strangely enough, you felt… oddly exposed. Only other black angels had ever been able to see your gift, unwillingly sharing it with someone you had but heard of and never met made you vulnerable… and it made you self-conscious.

“How exactly did you end up here on Earth?” Thor leaned forward, crossing his arms on the vast glass table in the middle of the conference room. Around him, the remaining Avengers which you had not officially met yet, squinted suspiciously in a desperate attempt to spot your wings as well. One of them—you believed he was called Rhodey—had even examined your back but found nothing.

“I was… banished. My own people abandoned me because I refused to join the new force.”

“Does that force answer to the name of Thanos by any chance?” Tony tossed in. You nodded.

“You have heard of him. He means to wipe out half of the universe. We have to stop him whatever it takes.”

You could feel Loki’s presence behind you. He was still silent, pacing up and down the room like a cunning predator waiting to strike.

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“You don’t. I am merely warning you. I don’t have the powers to stop him but you might. And I certainly did not ask to be invited to your humble home.” You snapped. They were hostile towards you, you could tell. Something about you unsettled them. If only you knew what it was.

Be that as it may, the Avengers decided to let you stay for a while. They hadn’t locked you in a room but if you were to try and leave without anyone accompanying you… then the Norns beware.

You sighed. You should have never mentioned you were a black angel, pretended to be human instead… pretended that Loki was hallucinating. His eyes had made you forget all reason. The invisible force pulling you to him was destructive. You wanted to be close to him, be with him, be there for him… lay your life, soul and heart in his hands… all the while he seemed to painstakingly ignore you.

You barely knew but you could sense that Loki was everything you could ever wish for. An intelligent, powerful, cunning and charming man, tall, blue-eyed and so outrageously handsome he even outshone his brother Thor. You had never spoken to him personally and yet, you felt like you would die for him. Now what if he never reciprocated those feelings? Tragic stories were told about black angels who found love and yet had to live without it.

At the very least, so you figured, you had access to a fully furnished kitchen tonight. It was your first warm supper in two weeks and bit more nourishing than a mere apple or a handful of nuts. It was almost midnight now and hunger had gotten the better of you… or maybe it was the prosperity of food being available to you at any time without you having to steal hard-earned money for it first.

Passing through the hallway, your tread entirely mute, you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard two familiar voices talking in the living room.

“Big… imposing… no, I did not imagine it, Thor. They were there. A pair of shimmering black wings…” Loki sounded worried, yet you could tell he was trying hard not to let it show. He had already seemed to have panicked a little when he first laid his eyes upon you.

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much time do you have left?”

“I don’t know, Thor.”

“Don’t you… worry, brother… I’m sure everything’s gonna work out fine.”

There was a moment of awfully painful silence. Then, somebody left.

Frowning, you knocked. You were unsure of what they had been talking about. Loki’s expression darkened when he spotted you entering the room shyly, his eyes focused on the wings on your back.

“You… seem to be avoiding me, Loki. Have I… done something?”

Loki smirked—it was bitter. Now that he had told Thor, by tomorrow… they would all know he was going to die soon.

“You have not, dear. It is not something you did. It is your purpose.” Your heart skipped a beat. You had not expected such an honest answer.

“My purpose? I don’t have a purpose here on Midgard.” His eyes were ice cold when he looked up to meet your gaze.

“You are an omen of death.”

Your lips parted. “I am… I am not.”

“No man who sees a black angel’s wings survives. I can see yours.”

“B-but… but that… you’re not going to die.”

His bitter smile returned. “We are facing Thanos. If I was doubtful about my fate before, I am no longer now.”

“Loki, that’s not what it means…” It felt like your heart was shattering, to a million tiny little pieces. He thought you were his death… no wonder he felt uneasy around you. Where had that stupid superstition come from? Why would you be an omen of death?

You longed to tell him what it really meant. Only right now, in this very moment, it did not feel right. Would he even believe you? Probably not.

“Good night, Loki.”

When you returned to your room, you sent your pillow flying through the air all the while suppressing a scream of anger.

The following days were equally frustrating. Loki seemed to be avoiding you at all cost and even Thor and the others only spoke to you when it was absolutely necessary. They were scared. All of them. Dreading that at some point, they might see your wings too. You had already given up attempting to explain it to them. There were much more important things to take care of.

Figuring out your own feelings, for example. It was impossible to love someone you had just met, even for black angels… right? The invisible force linking you to Loki’s body and mind was so strong it almost physically ached to not be near him. You were worried. Loki thought he was going to die. It was obvious he had a past with Thanos, one that was about to catch up with him.

You had your dagger—it was the least you could fight with to protect his life. After all, that one superstition was indeed true. Yet when you stood in front of him, the purple titan who had stolen away your people, and the black angels you had thought of as friends and family… you were terrified.

All of them were ready to fight. Man against man, woman against woman and you… somewhere in between. You had never agreed to destroy him, had never promised to help. It was not in your nature to intervene in such things; even though you would not exactly call yourself a pacifist, wars held a bitter connotation. All you cared about was Loki—even if he did not care about you.

Proudly and arrogantly, he lifted his chin in pure defiance. You could feel he was anxious. His heart was beating so fast your own almost stopped. Thanos wanted the Tesseract—and Loki was denying he was in its possession.

The whole Avengers compound had become a bloody battlefield. There was debris, there were screams and the sounds of metal clashing. Clutching your dagger tighter, you watched how Thor was hurled through the air and landed on the hard ground.

“We don’t have the Tesseract! It was destroyed on Asgard!” He growled, spitting a mouthful of blood into the grass before two of Thanos’ lackeys managed to restrain him.

Loki briefly closed his eyes, guiltily. One single moment of negligence—and enough for Thanos to grab his head forcefully and throw him on the ground before Ebony Maw’s feet.

Loki gasped in pain but the ugly sorcerer did not hesitate. He raised his hands, fingers crooked… only to send shockwaves of agony through his blood. As a Frost Giant… the heat pumping through his veins was pure torture.

“The Tesseract…” Thanos remarked, seemingly unimpressed. Your eyes widened. Loki really had it. Of course he had it.

“Please, stop…” You heard yourself whisper, the pain he felt cursing through your own body. Only yours wasn’t physical. “Stop it! The Tesseract is not here. Let him live. Whatever he has done in the past, he did it to survive, wouldn’t you do the same?”

“He disappointed me,” the titan argued. “He failed.”

“We all do. It was not his fault. Look around you. Look at your forces fighting against a bunch of mortals. If they are having difficulties defeating them now, then how would you expect Loki to do it all on his own?”

Loki’s stunning blue eyes widened upon hearing your words. He kept grunting, growling and panting as Maw intensified the spell, making you panic slightly.

“I am not merciful, little one. If I were, I wouldn’t be where I am standing now.”

“You… don’t have to be.” You swallowed. “His life in exchange for mine. I shall serve you if you let him live.”

“Why would I want your allegiance?”

“I am an angel, too.”

Thanos raised his eyebrows.

“You would give your freedom to save him? Him?”

“Yes.” Blinking frantically to scare away the tears in your eyes, you watched the titan nod slowly. With a start, Ebony Maw stopped, earning him another pant from Loki. In his ugly hands… he held the Tesseract.

“You have a good heart, little one. Unfortunately… I don’t like being lied to.”

*It happened fast, almost too fast for you to comprehend. Thanos’ sword slashed through the cold air and Loki’s neck, blood spurting from the freshly cut wound and staining his skin and armour. His blue eyes closed, the downright repulsive sounds of him choking on his own blood filling your ears.

Then, he stopped moving, the red liquid still pouring from his neck.*

You screamed, both in pain and indescribable grief when Loki’s heart stopped beating. He had been right. You had been his very personal omen of death.

You didn’t sleep. You didn’t eat. You didn’t speak. Thanos was gone, two Infinity stones along with him. And while the Avengers were busy figuring out a plan to stop him once and for all, you spent your time sulking away in your room, your eyes red and swollen from the many tears you shed for the man you had never had a chance to love.

You had meant to save him. Loki had trusted you to seal his fate and when you had attempted to lay down your own life so he would survive, you had caused the exact opposite. It wasn’t your fault, not really and yet… it felt like it.

It felt like your heart had been ripped in pieces, like Thor had driven his beloved hammer into your chest repeatedly and shattered all of your ribs.

Dead. You had found the one man your poor existence as a god damn black angel had made sense for, the one man who could have made you happy. And now he was dead.

You were ready to do anything to get him back. And so you were plotting.

Whether Thor was grieving, you did not know. But you had heard of Ragnarok, the destruction of his home world, of Asgard, the realm of the gods. Hela had wreaked havoc and claimed the throne. Hela, the goddess of death… Hela, who could resurrect the dead and bring them back to life.

“Tony.” Your voice carried only feinted politeness. You simply did not care how worn out he was, noodling around in his lab. Neither did you care that Thor did not even look up when you entered.

“Can I speak to Thor, please? In private?”

He was his brother. If anyone was going to help you bring Loki back, it was him. Thor had complained about having lost Loki before. That he had thought him dead before. Whether he could not accept he was truly gone this time or had simply moved on, you could not tell. But you sincerely hoped Loki was important enough for him, worthy of saving.

The God of Thunder looked up, his brows raised in surprise. Nodding mutely, he stood and left the room, allowing you to close the door to Tony’s lab behind you.

“There is a way to bring Loki back alive.” You stated straight away, swallowing thickly. Thor crossed his arms before his chest, a defensive posture.

“What do you mean?”

“Loki is not in Valhalla, his soul did not… ascend. He should have been… he would not give Thanos the Tesseract to Thanos, he was enduring torture, he… wanted to save you. All of you, stop the titan himself. That… that means…” Again, you swallowed, forcing back the tears forming in your eyes. “It means he is in Hel. I’ve been there before, black angels… we are immune to… well, it doesn’t matter. But… the goddess of death. Hela, she could…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Thor repeated sternly. “Hela is my sister. She caused the destruction of Asgard, she killed my friends and hundreds of innocent Asgardians.”

“I have heard the stories… but Thor, Loki is your brother.”

“Do you truly think she will resurrect him without asking for something in return? We barely managed to banish her again, I will not risk the subjugation of the nine… the eight realms.”

Angrily, you narrowed your eyes at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“If Thanos gets a hold of the remaining Infinity Stones, say goodbye to the entire universe. He will be ten times worse than Hela. If anyone can help you defeat him, it’s your brother. Your brother, Thor.”

Why did he hesitate? As a black angel, you had never had brothers or sisters but if you did… if you did you would love and cherish them dearly. Did Thor not love Loki? Did he not love him as much as Loki loved Thor? You could see it in his eyes. Loki had a good heart, vulnerable and tainted but good.

“Why would you want to bring him back? You don’t know him. Loki’s been dead before, if it’s true this time… it is what it is.” Thor mumbled. “Look, (Y/N)… Loki is dead because of you. Your appearance… it was the sign… there is no way around that.”

“That’s bullshit, Thor,” you snapped. All of a sudden, the truth spilled from your lips uncontrollably. “I’m not an omen of death, who came up with this? Loki was the only one who can see my wings because he was meant to be my soul mate. I… I fell in love with him the moment I first looked him in the eye. I was going to sacrifice my life to save him, those were not empty words, you heard them!”

Thor paused. “That’s… impossible. All my life… I grew up believing black angels were deadly.”

“We can be. My blades of my daggers are drowned in poison but we do not promise death to those we show our wings to. It wasn’t my decision, Thor. Please… help me bring your brother back.” This time, you were unable to hold back your tears. Sobbing quietly, they ran over your reddened cheeks.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath.

“I can take you to the portal. The rest is up to you. But if you endanger this realm by setting Hela free, you will live with the consequences because we will kill you. I have to protect these people, (Y/N).”

Determined, you nodded. “I will make this right, Thor. I promise.”

The portal was a church. At least, it looked like a church. Home of the angels… you snorted. If only you could live in a richly decorated church. The more you approached, the more of the dead energy did you feel. Helheim was near.

You had a plan, of course. It was risky and bold and perhaps a bit reckless… but at least, it was a plan. Thor had held his promise and he made sure to stay until you returned—with or without Loki.

Then, with one final deep breath—for there was no reason to breathe in Helheim—you stepped over the threshold of Durham Cathedral and disappeared into nowhere, an invisible force sucking you into another realm.

The stench of death filled your nose before you had even opened your eyes again, corpses, skeletons and bloody soil staining the dark landscape. Like you had expected, your presence in the realm of the dead as a living being did not go unnoticed.

“I’ve met black angels before. But they were dead.” Hela’s voice echoed through the minging air, her blue eyes, complimented by dark coal, boring into yours.

“I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? Child… Look around you… this place is dead. What do I have to fear?”

“Thanos. He means to wipe out half of the universe. Killing half of every single living being.”

Hela raised her eyebrows, seemingly unimpressed.

“Where do you think will most of these souls go? Half the universe… crammed in one realm. Your realm.”

“The Gauntlet. He has it then.”

“And he is collecting the stones. There is a force on Midgard… across the universe to stop him. They need all the help they can get.”

It was then the goddess of death began to smile cruelly. “Who is it you want me to resurrect?”

“How familiar are you with the powers of black angels?”

Hela shrugged. “They are meant to find their soul mates, the only beings they unwillingly reveal their true nature to.” As the goddess of death, she knew a lot more than the rest of the Asgardians then.

You nodded. “My powers were taken from me when I was cast out. They will return once I am reunited with mine.” That was a lie. But if Hela was Thor’s sister, you could imagine she did not exactly take a liking into Loki. “I need you to return Loki to the living. We stop Thanos, we stop this realm from destruction. And we both know that even Helheim could not take the masses of murderers and villains once the titan snaps his fingers.”

Snarling, she turned her scrutinising gaze away from you. “Loki?” She snorted. “You know what? Take him. Take that little cockroach and leave. Hel will be better off without his smug remarks.”

You were almost surprised by how calm you managed to speak with her. The prosperity of seeing Loki again filled your broken heart with joy and love, even if the God of Mischief himself, so you imagined, would hardly feel the same.

Hela narrowed her eyes. With but a flick of his wrist, she summoned Loki like a demon. Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted him. He did not look harmed, the atrocious wound on his neck luckily gone completely.

“I was trying to sleep. Forewarn me before you—“ Loki stopped his mocking complaint mid-sentence. His lips parted when he saw you—that’s when you had already thrown yourself into his arms and buried your face in his neck, inhaling his wonderful scent and enjoying the touch of his body, beginning to heal you instantly.

“Husband…” You murmured, knowing that Hela was still watching you intently.

Loki froze. “What?”

“Just play along. Please… I’m gonna get you out of here.” You whispered mutely. Then, you timidly pressed your lips against his, triggering an explosion of chemistry between you. You almost flinched… and apparently, Loki felt the same.

Hela rolled her eyes in a disgusted manner. Clearly, she was convinced. “Leave. Make sure not to return.” She flicked her wrists once more, almost as if taking a spell on Loki—whatever had been necessary to allow him to travel through the portal and back to the living.

Confidently, you reached for his hand, a touched smile spreading on your lips when he accepted it and followed you back to Midgard and into Durham Cathedral.

“Husband?” He repeated, ignoring Thor who received him with his mouth wide open.

“There is a lot of explaining I need to do, I’m afraid.” You began apologetically.

“Indeed.” He was still holding your hand, not pulling away. It filled your chest with a cosy warmth which you had never felt before.

“You… only you can see my wings.”

“I still do.”

“You… you can because… because I am your soul mate. I never was an omen of death, Loki. I.. love you.”

The God of Mischief’s face fell.

“What you said to Thanos… you did attempt to…” You nodded quickly.

“I… I had to try. Contacting Hela, convincing her to resurrect you…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted, looking you deep in the eye. It was surprise which you found sparkling in those blue irises. Surely… never had anyone done this for him. Surely, nobody else would have done this for him. Thor still went ignored.

“I… I can understand if you… if you don’t want me to stay. I can leave. Being my soul mate, it doesn’t… it doesn’t link you to me if you don’t want to.”

Your heart jumped when Loki began to smirk mischievously... but genuinely.

“Oh no, my dear. I think I am going to keep you.”

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on KoFi! kofi.com/sserpente

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