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use-your-telescope · 3 months

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When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 16: We Don't Know What We're Doing

Summary: Amidst the day to day, Theo and Loki continue to learn new things about each other, including some interesting details about how they view relationships.

Author’s Note: First, I am so sorry this is so late!! I had planned to post on the 28th, but I ended up having some (good) things come up that took up my weekend and meant I didn’t have time to get this to a point I felt was ready to post. I foolishly thought I could have it ready by Tuesday, then by Friday, then Sunday, then accepted my fate and admitted I just wouldn’t have time until this weekend to get this chapter wrapped up and posted (shoutout to a work trip last weekend for making this take an extra week!) I shared a note about the delay on tumblr, but figured I’d share it here so I’m covering my bases.

That being said, spring is a crazy time for me work-wise, plus I’m finishing my second master’s degree this semester (after a two year hiatus!), so this will probably not be the only time things get a bit delayed. I’m pretty sure I will have the next chapter ready for next Sunday (the 24th), but the week after that has some work stuff going on, which means the following chapter would be posted on March 9th. Anyways, thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoy <3 reblogs are always appreciated, and lmk if you want to be added to tag list!

Word Count: 6,789

Song: Amateur Lovers - Switchfoot (Bonus Song: Passing Through A Screen Door - The Wonder Years)

Everyone I know Needs love like drugs Like a common cold We could never shrug My baby and me We're missing the same stuff We've all got a disease Deficiency of love Every day we still try Every night we still cry Driving home on the 805

Months after Theo first promised Loki that she would hang out with the other Avengers, she could not deny the truth: Loki, the little shit, was right.

Unintentionally agreeing to “family night” opened the floodgates of invitations to hang out, and other than the period of time where everyone’s moods plummeted from the string of unpleasant anniversaries, Theo found herself becoming more and more fond of the colorful collection of superheroes that she lived with, and it seemed like they accepted her with open arms.

Even worse, Loki was right and he knew it.

Every time Theo caught him watching as Wanda braided her hair or Yelena talked her into trying (and absolutely sucking at) Call of Duty, Loki cocked an eyebrow and shot Theo the most smug, self-satisfied smirk. When he wandered into the lab and stumbled upon Theo and Helen working on new medical technology with Bruce and Shuri, a downright devious glint flashed in his jade eyes, and his jaw flexed as if he bit back some snarky comment about Theo’s voluntary presence. When they went out as a team and it came to light that Natasha had done Theo’s makeup, Loki bit his lower lip to stifle a snicker.

On that night, Theo had just finished up working in the emergency department; after showering and changing into an old set of Duke sweatpants and a shirt she stole from Chris the last time she stayed at his apartment, Theo made her way out to the living room with a book in hand.

The sight that greeted her was one she often found at the end of the day: Sam, Bucky, Yelena, Natasha, and Steve sprawled out on some of the more comfortable seating options, clad in sweatpants and worn t-shirts after what was likely a long day of training and briefings. A video game that Theo vaguely recognized, but not enough to identify, broadcast itself from the television screen, displaying a mix of desolate space-esque scenarios and scifi combat.

Sam sat on the edge of the couch cushions, leaned in towards the television screen with a video game controller clutched in both hands, focusing so intently on the screen that he stuck a bit of his tongue out as he mashed buttons on the controller.

On another couch sat Yelena and Natasha, with Bucky sandwiched between the two widows. Yelena and Bucky alternated between shoving fistfuls of popcorn into their mouths and shouting at the television as an explosion flashed on the screen, while Natasha sat with her legs curled up under her, sipping a glass of merlot as she occasionally teased Sam about dying in the game.

“Theo, hey,” Steve waved from the other side of the living room, where he stretched across on the couch with sock-covered feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Hey,” Theo waved as she took her usual seat, curling into the corner of the couch. “So, which game is this?”

“Halo–” Yelena replied between mouthfuls of popcorn, “— Genetically enhanced super soldiers fighting aliens.”

“I thought the point of playing video games was to take a break from reality…” Theo glanced around the room. “How is ‘genetically enhanced super soldiers fighting aliens’ any different from what we already do?”

“It’s fictional.” Yelena shrugged, despite the knowing grin she wore.

“Hey, bird brain, don’t you have something to ask Theo?” Bucky threw a piece of popcorn at Sam, bouncing a fluffy kernel off Sam’s head; Sam scowled, but kept his eyes on the screen.

“Ask me what?” Theo glanced between the others expectantly, her pulse quickening ever so slightly.

They must have been talking about her… But why?

“Fuck! I was so close!” Sam groaned as a message flashed across the television screen stating his team lost. He tossed the controller at Bucky, who effortlessly caught it in his non-vibranium hand. “You try.”

“Is anyone going to tell me what I’m supposed to be asked about?” Theo repeated, her chest tightening as she tried to guess what they wanted. She couldn’t think of anything that she did recently to raise any suspicions, and the way Bucky brought it up made it sound like it wasn’t anything serious…

“Dammit Buck, I was gonna ask her when it was just the two of us.” Sam glared at Bucky, who was too busy setting up the next round of whatever shooting game they had decided on for that night.

“Okay, now I’m just getting nervous.” Theo tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t do much to cover up her ballooning nerves.

“Nah, don’t be - I just need advice… ” Sam rubbed his face with both hands, conveniently hiding any clues Theo might have gathered from his expression. “... Dating advice.”

“Dating advice?” Theo’s brows shot skyward as she echoed Sam’s message back to him.

“Yeah. There’s a hot doc that you work with, and I want to see if she’s interested.”

Well, that certainly changed things.

Theo struggled to keep her cool, cheeks and jaw tensing to prevent a grin from curling up her lips...

.. What were the odds that Sam shared Julie’s crush?

“Thing is, the only way I ever run into her is when I need to get patched up —“ Sam continued, “— not exactly great for getting to know each other...”

“… So you want my help getting close to her?” Theo ventured, her mind running wild with possibilities. “Who is it?!”

“Oh hell no, I’m not telling!” Sam laughed sheepishly, “Not until I know if she’s interested too!”

“How can I help if I don’t know who it is?” Theo pointed out, “it’s not like all doctors are the same! What works for Julie won’t work for Helen!”

If Theo didn’t know any better, she swore she saw Sam’s cheeks flush at Julie’s name; then again, that might have been in her head.

“Watch him when he’s in the ER,” Bucky commented, not missing a beat even as all of his attention seemed focused on the video game. “You'll know in two seconds.”

“As much as I don’t want you to need to go to the ER, now I’m curious - maybe we can beat you up a bit during training so you need to pay a visit.” Theo teased, smirking at Sam. Yelena laughed, offering to beat him up, while Natasha and Steve exchanged knowing glances.

“Not you too–” Sam groaned, before pointing at Yelena and Bucky. “ – that’s the same thing these assholes recommended!”

“Because it’s good advice!” Yelena huffed, crossing her arms. “You want to see her? That’s how!”

“Oh come on, you really think that’s my advice?! I’m not that terrible,” Theo scoffed, feigning offense. “My first piece of advice would be to talk to her and see what she likes outside of work, then figure out a way to ask her to hang out and do something she enjoys. But unless you tell me who it is, you’re going to need to work up the courage to stop by the ED specifically to talk to her, or you’ll have to wait until you actually have a reason to get patched up.”

Sam let out a sharp breath, shoulders slumping as he narrowed his eyes at Theo. “And if I tell you?”

“Maybe I can help — invite them over when we do a movie night or something,” Theo offered, this time not bothering to hide her smile. After all, Theo was not above a quid pro quo - she gets to satisfy her curiosity, and Sam gets a chance to talk to whoever he’s crushing on. Win-win, really.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Theo. “… Let me think about it.”

Theo stood up and stretched her arms overhead; since it seemed like Sam had put an end to the conversation, it was as good of a moment as any to step away for a moment and get herself some water. As she sauntered towards the kitchen, she called over her shoulder: “Your choice, but it doesn’t have to be hard!”

Conversation continued among the others as Theo entered the kitchen, voices laughing and chattering over each other so Theo couldn’t make out what anyone said.

Theo moved on autopilot as she found a glass and added some ice from the freezer, mind spinning as she tried to recall any details from past interactions that would help her figure out which of her colleagues caught Sam’s eye. Even as she moved to the sink to fill her glass, her thoughts remained so occupied with the new mystery that she barely paid her surroundings any mind.

“You feared the Avengers would never trust you, yet Wilson trusts you enough to seek your guidance in matters of the heart; I dare say that your concerns were unfounded.” A low voice spoke from just behind Theo — a smooth baritone that she recognized anywhere, even if it startled her so badly that she dropped her glass and nearly jumped through the ceiling from shock.

A flash of emerald shot forth. Loki caught the glass just before it clattered into the sink, all the while failing to stifle his laughter at the string of curses that fell from Theo’s mouth.

“Can’t you just say hi like a normal person?!” Theo pressed one hand to her heart in a feeble attempt to settle her racing heart, all the while glaring at Loki.

“When such amusement is a possibility? Absolutely not.” Loki grinned, offering Theo her water glass. She snatched it from him, taking a quick drink of water before turning back to the sink and topping it off.

For a moment, Theo considered finding some way to fuck with Loki so he couldn’t gloat so much, but after Loki had a difficult month (between the shitty anniversaries and Thor nearly dying, calling it difficult was probably an understatement), Loki needed the chance to loosen up and laugh. Besides, he was the first friend Theo made when she moved into the tower, and even if she wouldn’t admit it outright, Theo was grateful that Loki had been right.

So, she simply rolled her eyes and smiled.

“You’ve not responded to my original comment,” Loki pointed out, smug satisfaction dancing in his tone.

“Sam’s interested in one of my colleagues,” Theo attempted to brush off Loki’s observation, her cheeks burning as they undoubtedly flushed.

“I heard…” Loki leaned back against the kitchen counter, a lazy smile dangling on his lips as he looked at Theo. “Still, he trusts you.”

“Not enough to tell me who it is,” Theo grumbled, setting her water glass on the marble counter as she pretended to pout so she could cross her arms. “How long were you lurking there?”

“Long enough,” Loki simply shrugged, eyes twinkling from the reflection of the kitchen lights as he looked at Theo. “The exchange reminded me - are you still courting your gentleman caller?”

Theo couldn’t stifle the snort of laughter that escaped from Loki’s unironic use of the term “gentleman caller;” she slapped both hands over her mouth, entire face now aflame with embarrassment from the ridiculous sound.

Loki tilted his head at Theo’s reaction, brows furrowed in a silent question.

“Am I supposed to ignore the fact that you just used the term gentleman caller?” Theo finally managed, still chuckling as she repeated the term.

“Is there another term I ought to use?” Despite the neutral tone of Loki’s reply, his cheeks took on a faint shade of pink that stood out against his porcelain skin. “Or am I to presume you are no longer courting him?”

“I’m still seeing him, but I don’t think that ‘gentleman callers’ exist in modern day dating,” Theo couldn’t wipe the smile off her face from hearing the term in daily conversation. “Feminism and all that.”

“Ah, yes, forgive me.” The flush on Loki’s cheeks grew more noticeable. “Nonetheless, you are still courting him?”

“Yeah,” Theo nodded. “Why?”

“You’ve not spoken of him in quite some time.” Loki shrugged; the gesture looked like an attempt to be nonchalant, which matched his tone, but something about the movement seemed a bit… forced.

“You were busy supporting Thor, and I was busy supporting you, so it didn’t seem like the thing to discuss at the time.” Theo offered a sheepish smile as she explained her reasoning. “Besides, it’s nothing serious.”

In response, Loki leaned away ever-so-slightly, narrowing his eyes with a slight frown as he studied Theo.

“What?” Theo tensed as heart quickened in her chest, confused by Loki’s reaction.

“Midgardians often speak of love at first sight; after quite some time, your feelings for the actor seem ambivalent at best, yet you continue to court him,” Loki remarked slowly, continuing to look at her with a perplexed expression. “It’s rather odd.”

Odd - with a silent sigh of relief, Theo relaxed, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight – that’s lust,” Theo winked, shaking her head. “We’re just having fun and enjoying each other’s company, that’s all.”

“I see,” with a nod, Loki hummed to himself. “Do you foresee the relationship turning into something greater?”

“I don’t know,” Theo shrugged. “Never gave it much thought, if I’m honest.”

As she answered the question, a thought occurred to her: Loki asked about her dating life, but Theo never asked about his…

“Speaking of dating, did I see you bring someone up to your suite after Stark’s fundraiser a few months back?” Theo cocked a brow at him, a sly grin spread over her face. “What’s going on there?”

“Rest assured, I’ve not kept any partners from you,” Loki replied with a smirk of his own. “I am… not one for attachment, shall we say.”

“So she was a booty call?” Theo giggled, earning a venomously dirty look from Loki. “Well, what would you call it?”

“I prefer to have companions for a single evening,” Loki dryly answered, a pale pink blush returning to his cheeks. “It’s less complicated that way.”

“Is that so?” Theo teased, her grin widening to the point that her cheeks hurt as Loki’s blush grew brighter.

“Yes –” Loki’s explanation took on an edge of defensiveness as his expression teetered on the verge of a scowl. “It’s not as uncommon as you might think, particularly among our peers.”

Theo barely managed to keep a straight face, all-too-amused by how quickly Loki became flustered.

“Civilians do not understand the nature of our roles, so relationships that are not between two agents or established prior to one becoming an Avenger are practically doomed from the start,” Loki continued. “Having seen the effect of those failed relationships on others, I have chosen to refrain from courting anyone.”

Theo’s stomach lurched at the observation, her prior amusement vanishing in an instant. She quickly grabbed her water glass, taking a long sip of chilled liquid to ground herself before the implications could make her spiral.

“That being said, physical desire is a near-universal experience, or a need, if you will—” If Theo’s expression shifted, Loki must not have noticed; the usual glint of something clever returned to his eye, as did a wry smirk. “—And sometimes our needs… Well… They need to be satiated.”

“Can’t fault you there.” Theo covered up her discomfort from Loki’s earlier comment with a smirk and a wink of her own. She started towards the living room, glancing back at Loki over her shoulder. “Some of us are hanging out in the living room. You want to join?”

Loki nodded, pressing away from the counter and following Theo into the living room.

Amidst a chorus of greetings directed at Loki, Theo took her usual seat, but this time stretched her legs out across the cushions so there wasn’t room for anyone else to sit. She looked up and grinned at Loki, who stood in front of the couch like he was about to take his usual place beside her.

With narrowed eyes flitting between the seat and Theo, Loki arched one brow in a silent challenge. Theo simply widened her grin, curious to see what would follow.

To Theo’s surprise, Loki didn’t say anything; instead, he picked up both of Theo’s legs, moving them out of the way so he could sit down; once he settled into his seat, he placed both of Theo’s feet on his lap, as a result returning Theo to her initial position. He capped off the response by flashing an impish grin at Theo, a sort of silent taunt - “you thought you could try me? Foolish mortal.”

Other than a suspicious glance exchanged between the widows, it didn’t seem like anyone even noticed the exchange between Loki and Theo.

Despite Theo’s playful behavior, Loki’s comment about relationships doomed from the start lurked in the dark recesses of her mind, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Even as she forced herself to pay attention while Sam and Bucky explained the rules of the particular type of Halo match they selected for the evening, Theo couldn’t shake the vague uneasiness that the comment initially instilled within her.

A good night text from Chris, something which usually made Theo’s heart flutter in her chest, instead filled her with dread. However, Theo kept her discomfort close to her chest, acting like nothing was amiss as she replied to Chris, wishing him a good night. When Theo returned her attention back to her friends, she tucked her concern away behind carefully crafted smiles and quick-witted comments with such practiced ease that it should have been concerning.

Only when she had retreated to the privacy of her suite, after turning out the lights and tucking herself beneath her thick, plush comforter, did she allow the matter to crawl out from the shadows and capture her attention.

When Theo accepted the offer to go on a date, she hadn’t even considered that the difference in careers/experiences would influence their relationship, or the special considerations that she needed to make. Given her career as a doctor, she was used to missing holidays, birthdays, and special occasions because of work. Chris had, up to that point, seemed perfectly fine with that. With healthcare privacy laws, it wasn’t odd for Theo to avoid talking about work with other people, and that naturally flowed into her relationships, another thing that Chris never seemed to mind. He didn’t care that she never brought him up to her suite, and that they always stayed at his apartment.

Maybe she was overthinking it - they never said anything about getting serious. Besides, she didn’t know the circumstances of the failed relationships that Loki referred to. Other factors could have impacted those relationships.

Still, the idea of Chris inevitably being hurt because of Theo’s lack of foresight left a bitter taste in her mouth. The last thing Theo needed was to hurt anyone else, but time and time again she made the same mistakes, and innocent people were caught in the crossfire.

Staring up at her ceiling, Theo drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Up until that night, she had no reason to worry about the future with Chris. He hadn’t made any indication that he wanted to pursue a long-term relationship. At that point, they were more of a situationship than anything - they didn’t change their lives for each other, they simply saw each other when it was convenient. That was okay. Theo was fine with that.

Hopefully Chris was alright with that as well.

You tried to play it down But it never stuck I tried to bail this town I'm getting no such luck, yeah When nobody's around I keep my eyes on the clock There ain't a cure I've found In all my times around this block Every day we still try Every night we still cry We’re driving home on the 405

Between the overly loud sounds that Midgardians called music, the throngs of sweaty people, and the sharp stench of alcohol, Loki vehemently regretted allowing Maximoff to convince him to partake in this particular outing.

One of the local bars, the Hi-Lo, hosted an event they decided to call “Emo Night.” Maximoff’s explanation of “Emo Night” conveniently omitted that the “music” was far too loud and the quality of “singing” was questionable at best. Quite frankly, the quality of the scratchy, sometimes guttural noise could hardly be classified as singing, yet the people around them “danced” all the same - that was, if one could call shoving each other about in a sweaty horde dancing.

Theo informed him the correct term was “moshing,” but Loki felt “barbaric stumbling” would be more appropriate.

Some of their entourage seemed right at home. After freeing himself from the Winter Soldier’s programming, Barnes had grown fond of the loud and angsty racket. Maximoff had a penchant for live music, though this escapade made Loki question how the Scarlet Witch defined music. Though Wilson did not seem invested in the performance, he seemed quite comfortable with the strange cacophony – particularly strange given his typically warm and straightforward nature.

Others, however, shared a response akin to Loki’s. Rogers hung back near the bar, nursing a bottle of beer with ear plugs in as he watched the scene unfold with an openly perplexed expression. Romanoff sat on a bar stool beside him, maintaining her usually neutral expression while drinking some sort of dark-colored cocktail from a cheap plastic cup. Despite shifting his appearance to look human, any passerby could have concluded that Vision’s presence in the midst of the drunken chaos was not natural. Amidst a sea of dark, casual clothing, Vision wore a pastel blue sweater and well-tailored pants. The android’s complexion lacked the flush of alcohol and the sweat from ‘moshing;’ combined with his lack of movement and mild expression, only emphasized the utterly strange nature of the event. Had it not been for Maximoff’s presence in the crowd, the android would undoubtedly have chosen a different location from which to observe the spectacle.

Until that evening, Loki assumed Theo would not be at home in such a ruckus - though she had performed in similar venues prior to becoming an Avenger, her musical prowess seemed far more advanced than this drivel.

Yet, to Loki’s shock (and concern), Theo also claimed to be a fan of the so-called music; though she initially stood beside Loki as the so-called band performed, after bobbing her head to a couple of songs she disappeared into the sea of people as they jumped and screamed incomprehensible lyrics off-key.

Left by himself in what might have been his personal hell, Loki cursed Theo for abandoning him, only to chastise himself for such a thought; after all, Theo had attempted to warn Loki of what he would experience.

Earlier that afternoon, when Maximoff said “You’ll love it Lokes,” to which Loki rolled his eyes — it didn’t matter how many times he told Maximoff, she insisted on calling him Lokes — Theo couldn’t hold back the snort as she countered, “Given your thoughts on Tony’s music, you’ll probably hate it. But hey, you’ll probably enjoy the people watching.”

Theo was not to blame for Loki’s current predicament; if anything, the only person Loki could truly blame was himself. After all, he was the one who accepted the invitation.

The sound of distorted guitar shook the walls, his shoes stuck to the floor, and he couldn’t tell if he smelled stale beer or body odor - or both - but the scent was utterly repulsive. There were far too many people packed into such a small place, and they were drunken imbeciles. Even if he wanted to people-watch, it was too chaotic to tell what was going on. With the unnecessarily loud noise coming from the stage, a conversation would be near-impossible, no matter where he stood.

Then again, now that he was alone and everyone else was distracted by other things, no one would miss him if he left. Loki glanced over his shoulder at the exit, debating whether or not he should attempt to slip away at that moment, or wait until a break between songs.

The collision of another person bumping against Loki’s hip interrupted Loki’s train of thought. He whipped around, ready to unleash a series of insults at whoever dared to run into him, only to find Theo standing before him with two identical plastic cups in hand, both filled with a dark liquid similar to what Romanoff drank. The insults died on Loki’s tongue as she offered him one plastic cup, glancing down at the cup and then back at Loki before mouthing “for you.”

Loki lifted the cup and sniffed the drink; the saccharine scent of Midgardian soda intertwined with a spicy, sharp scent akin to some sort of Midgardian alcohol filled his nose, which he quite preferred to the establishment’s fetid aroma. However, Midgardian liquor would not be enough to dull his senses and render the evening tolerable; a tense chuckle – hardly more than a puff of air – escaped him at the thought.

When he looked back at Theo, her previously free hand now dangled a steel flask between two fingers for Loki to see, as if she could read his mind.

“Spiked with Thor’s whiskey,” Theo called out over the music, “You look like you need it.”

Loki rolled his eyes, schooling the discomfort from his face as he took a swallow of the beverage.

As if the Norns recognized Loki’s frustration from the inability to converse, the ending of the next song brought a short break in the music - just long enough for the performers to switch instruments - after a relentless barrage of sensory overload, the lack of screeching instruments filling the air was a blessed reprieve.

“Honestly, how can anyone enjoy such nonsense?” Loki leaned in towards Theo, still forced to raise his voice in order to be heard over the hollering from the inebriated audience. “It’s horrendously loud, the musicians are off-key, and the technique is terrible.”

Theo failed to bite back a grin, unfazed by Loki’s ire. “It’s not about perfection, Lo.”

“Lo?” Loki raised an eyebrow at her.

Theo faltered, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “That’s okay, right?”

Loki sighed. “It’s—” tolerable, at the very least “—fine.”

Begrudgingly, Loki suspected that there were many things he’d allow Theo to call him that he wouldn’t allow anyone other than Thor to even consider.

“It’s about the feeling behind it. It helps us deal with the bad shit, like anger and sadness —“ Theo glanced toward the stage, then back at Loki. “— Life isn’t perfect. Music shouldn’t be perfect either.”

Much to Loki’s dismay, the band’s vocalist approached the microphone and announced the start of the next song.

Theo, however, lit up, practically glowing despite the dark venue.

“Listen closely to the lyrics—“ Theo instructed (via shouting) as the first chords and the drunken ruckus of the entire venue singing off-key slammed against Loki’s ears, “this is a good example!”

Had anyone else made the request, Loki would have outright refused; however, Loki trusted Theo enough to comply, and begrudgingly put forth a concerted effort to listen closely.

A few lines in, Theo joined in singing:

“The highway won / I’m listening to traffic reports one on one, coming quietly undone / I was born to run away from anything good / an escape artist’s son / sun drenched pavement in my blood / the first thing that I do when I walk in / is find a way out for when shit gets bad, and…”

Theo kept eye contact with Loki as she sang along; a wistful look in her eyes made Loki recall some of the emotions he’d buried from his younger years. An uncomfortable void swirled in his chest as he stood amidst what he might consider to be the first tier of his personal hell.

Yet, the song barreled on and Loki forced himself to continue focusing on the lyrical content. Though the writing was not Shakespeare by any stretch of the imagination, the lyricism surprised Loki with its complexity and depth. References to historical events - the Cold War scares of the sixties - interlaced with references to the lingering sentiment within tragedy led to commentary around existential anxiety, loneliness, and the fear of not fulfilling one’s potential.

Loki glanced back over to Theo, who continued to watch him while singing along. She flashed a small, almost sheepish smile as the song reached its bridge:

“Jesus Christ, I’m twenty six / all the people I graduated with / all have kids, all have wives / all have people who care if they come home at night / well Jesus Christ, did I fuck up?”

Even in the poor lighting, Loki caught a glimpse of something painful behind Theo’s expression as she uttered the phrase ‘did I fuck up?’ The expression, however, was fleeting, replaced with a different sort of intensity as Theo locked eyes with Loki for the final chorus:

“I've been looking for tears in the screen door / and I’ve been waiting for another disaster / but I was kinda hoping you’d stay / I was kinda hoping you’d stay / I was kinda hoping you’d… stay.”

Though the song concluded, neither sorcerer made any effort to look away; something unspoken and inexplicable held them in place, frozen in a moment despite the chaos and discord of their surroundings…

… Until said chaos and discord quite literally crashed into them.

Some drunken oaf had been shoved from the crowd and into Theo’s side, knocking her off balance. Theo let out a shriek of surprise as she stumbled forward in an attempt to not crash into Loki or spill her drink.

Without a second thought, Loki practically dove to catch her before the horde could trample her in their ‘moshing,’ even though it made his drink splash out of the cup in the process. Ignoring the liquid dripping off his other hand, he hoisted Theo up by her elbow and pulled her into his chest to steady her, at least until she regained her footing.

Yet, when he felt her weight lift, he hesitated to let go.

“Are you alright?” Loki leaned down, close enough that his cheek brushed against Theo’s temple as he spoke into her ear.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Theo tilted her head back, the soft skin of her nose brushing against the crook of Loki’s jaw as she replied; the sensation sent a pleasant chill down Loki’s spine. “Thanks!”

Theo stepped back, and Loki forced himself to let go; though they met each other’s gaze again, this time neither of them allowed the moment to last.

Stifled by the sheer volume of the music, the only conversation between Loki and Theo until the end of the event consisted passing comments from time to time - Theo sharing thoughts on a particular song, Loki offering to bring Theo a refill when they both finished their drinks, or one of the pair pointing out something particularly amusing.

Between comments, Loki often caught Theo singing along, though she did so in a far more discreet manner than anyone else in the venue. Despite Loki’s best attempts to focus on Theo’s voice, the sound was lost in a swell of drums and guitars and other voices. The effort invested into trying to hear Theo successfully distracted Loki from the disdain he held for everything else about his surroundings, though it did nothing to dampen the disappointment when he could not hear her far-more-melodic voice floating through the air.

Perhaps if Theo was the one singing them, or the one playing the songs on piano, he might enjoy them more.

After far too long, the return of overhead lighting and disappearance of musicians from the stage confirmed that the event had finally drawn to a close. Wrangling the various members of their entourage required a bit of teamwork and effort, but it was not long before the Avengers exited the establishment and felt the blessedly cool air of the city against their skin.

It did not take long before the Avengers split into smaller groups along the sidewalk, a mixture of varied walking speeds and small conversations naturally pairing certain avengers with others. Maximioff and Barnes led the group, laughing and singing along to themselves as they stumbled along. Close behind, Vision and Wilson kept a close eye on their companions as they chatted with Romanoff and Rogers.

From the back of the group, Loki observed his surroundings while relishing the quiet of night. Quiet, of course, was relative - in a city such as New York, the bustle of traffic remained such a constant that it turned into white noise with due time. Strangers occasionally passed on the sidewalk, barely giving any of the Avengers a second glance as they ventured to mystery destinations in the night.

Farther ahead, a beggar sat near an alleyway, his back against a dumpster so thoroughly covered in graffiti that it would have been impossible to guess its original color; as groups of people passed without paying the man any mind, Loki couldn’t help but notice the man’s resigned sadness.

“... You survived.” The comment, clearly directed towards Loki, drew his attention from the beggar, though he did not catch the full remark.

“Pardon?” As Loki replied, he glanced over to find Theo walking beside him, somehow managing to keep pace despite her much shorter stature.

“So, you survived Emo night,” Theo repeated with a coy grin. “How terrible was it?”

“It is certainly not how I would choose to spend my time,” Loki dryly replied. “Nor is it something I would have expected you to enjoy.”

“Thought I had more cultured taste?” Theo teased, bumping Loki’s hip with hers as they strolled along.

“Clearly I was mistaken.” Loki chuckled and shook his head. “Tell me you do not subject your actor to such nonsense…”

“You think I can walk into a bar with him and not be swarmed?” Theo cocked a brow as she looked up at Loki. Despite the amused smirk she wore, something bittersweet lurked beneath her gaze. “Even if he could get in without drawing attention, I think the internet would drag me for bringing him to a place like that.”

“Drag you?” Loki echoed, hoping Theo might clarify what she meant by such a term.

“Chew me out. Chastise me. That sort of thing.” Theo sighed, looking ahead once more. “It’s not exactly a luxury hot spot; I’m guessing Chris’s fans would think this kind of place is beneath him.”

“What would he think?”

“I couldn’t see him having fun, but I don’t really know,” Theo admitted with such nonchalance that it almost seemed odd. “He seems too happy to really get the appeal.”

Loki froze in place, struck by Theo’s answer. Yes, Loki had endured hardships that others might not understand, but no one could truly exist without heartache, could they?

Theo stopped a step ahead and glanced back at Loki. “What?”

“I–” Loki faltered, grasping for the appropriate response. “Surely he has experienced emotions other than happiness?”

“I mean, sure?” Theo glanced ahead at the rest of the group, then back at Loki. “Look, we don’t really talk about shit like that, but I don’t think he’s ever had a bad thing happen to him. If I ever got the crazy idea to talk to him about a bad day at work, I don’t doubt that he’d listen and try to make me feel better, but I doubt he’d really understand.”

“The more you reveal about your relationship, the less I understand the appeal.” Loki shook his head and started forward once more. “I thought that Midgardians valued love for the emotional connection, and yet you seem all too content to avoid emotions in your courtship with the actor.”

“We connect in other ways.” Theo’s tone held a certain cheekiness to it, which she paired with an equally cheeky grin. “I could tell you about the se–”

“– No, I think I am quite alright –” Loki replied rather sharply, cheeks burning as he forced images of Theo in a compromising position from his mind. The last thing he needed was to linger on such inappropriate thoughts, particularly with another Avenger.

“– Hey, you were the one who said everyone has needs –” Theo pointed out, far too self-satisfied in her response, “I figured you’d get it.”

“I do not need the mundane details to understand the appeal of physical intimacy.” Loki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I simply do not understand why you bother with the rest of the courtship if you’ve no interest in further commitment.”

Theo did not have an immediate answer; she drew in a breath as if to speak, but remained quiet.

By that point, the pair had walked far enough that they were about to pass the beggar Loki had previously noticed; at that point, they were close enough that Loki could clearly make out the creases of age and weathered skin, as well as the faint wisps of silver where a once robust head of hair likely sat. The man’s earlier melancholy lingered in Loki’s memory, and sentiment tugged at Loki’s heartstrings, compelling him to do something.

All it took was a twitch of Loki’s fingers to conjure some cash in hand; if nothing else, Loki figured the man could use the money for a night of shelter and a warm meal. Yet, before Loki had the chance to acknowledge the man, Theo had already greeted the man by name, then crouched down so she was at eye-level before she extended some sort of plastic card to him, saying something Loki didn't quite catch. The man, however, grinned at Theo, his smile highlighting gaps where his teeth had fallen out at some point, before thanking her for her generosity.

Dumbfounded, Loki offered a quick greeting and extended the cash, which the elderly man thanked him for, though it was not with the level of warmth that the man exuded when he spoke to Theo.

The moment they were not within earshot of the man, Loki turned to Theo. “You know him?”

“Before I was an Avenger, I played a lot of shows in this area,” Theo explained with a small shrug. “Greg used to be the janitor at one of the local bars, but since I last saw him, he had to quit because of some health problems that left him unable to work. Between the treatment and the lack of income he couldn’t pay rent and ended up on the streets.

“I didn’t find out until a couple weeks ago, when I was walking home and I recognized him, so I stopped to talk to him and learned about what happened. I told myself that the next time I saw him, I’d put Tony’s insane bank account to use and give him enough money that he would never have to sleep on the street again, and he wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet The card has contact info for some people who can help him with the logistics.”

“Awfully generous of you,” Loki remarked.

“Hey, you didn’t even know him, but you still gave a bit of cash too,” Theo pointed out with a soft smile. “Most people would have ignored him.”

“Yes, well, back to our previous conversation–” Uncomfortable with the direction with which Theo took his remark, Loki quickly diverted the conversation. “–You never answered my question.”

“What question?” Theo glanced at Loki as they rounded the corner, Avengers Tower stretching into the sky ahead of them.

“Why bother with a courtship if you have no intention of pursuing a serious relationship?”

“You’re reading too much into this,” Theo laughed nervously as she shook her head. “It’s not that I refuse to be in a serious relationship - I just like to go with the flow.”

Yet, contrary to what Theo said, a familiar melancholy in Theo’s eye said otherwise - the same melancholy he caught when Theo sang, ‘the first thing that I do when I walk in is find a way out for when shit gets bad, and / I’ve been looking for tears in the screen door / and I’ve been waiting for another disaster…’

That look in Theo’s eye told Loki everything he needed to know.

We don't know what we're doing Let's do it again, yeah, you know We're just amateur lovers With amateur friends I can tell you what you're thinking now Before you think it you can settle down Our lovin' isn't gonna burn us out We don't know what we're doing Let's do it again Yeah, let's do it again

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki slow burn #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x ofc #loki x ofc fan fiction #when everything's made to be broken #wemtbb #loki angst

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universalistotalis · 2 years

Text

Blind Date

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader (Haikyuu!! Timeskip)

Masterlist!

Credits to the owner of the picture! @kanan_king

Today was the start of a milestone in your adult life. You’ve never been one for dating but you realized that life’s short and you’re not getting any younger.

Your friends wanted to throw a party with just the mere fact that you said yes to a blind date for the first time. It was such a damn miracle!

You planned days ahead. The makeup, the hair, the outfit, the shoes… everything! It made you excited in a way because finally after years of establishing self- love and confidence, here you were! Ready to conquer the world, ready to open yourself to loving someone—

Ready to back the fuck out.

It hit you instantly. His aura was dominating and the sight of him made you feel like you were suckerpunched to the stomach! How could your friends miss that one teeny tiny detail that your date for tonight was Sakusa Kiyoomi himself?!

The waiter led you closer to the table and you pleaded to god that he would suddenly swerve and lead you away. But then he stopped in front of Sakusa, told him of your presence, and motioned you towards the chair.

It was all a blur and you became dizzy as he removed his mask and stood just to pull the seat out for you.

His voice was low and his eyes were unrelenting when he stares during the conversations. You felt so bare in front of him, so little. Was this how his opponents from the other side of the court felt? His looks were calculating and judging that you just sat there, insides melting with every second that passed. It doesn’t even help that you have this huge crush on him for god-knows-how-long!

It started years ago when you dreamt of him kissing you and being such a good boyfriend. Yes, that actually happened. And what surprised you was, it wasn’t even him that you were idolizing in the National team, it was Hinata Shoyo!

But then, little by little, you fell for Kiyoomi’s charms even though he’s quiet and reserved most of the time. Even though he was silent, you can never ignore his presence on court. His plays were top tier, so well- executed and well- timed, that everyone’s just left there speechless after each and every spike. And it doesn‘t help that he’s so humble about it too!

He has you on chokehold ever since and you never recovered!

“You’re playing with your food. Don’t you like the menu?” He asked bluntly. Your throat goes dry at his sudden intrusion.

“N-no, no it’s not that.” You tried to smile sheepishly.

“Then what?”

“N-nothing, Sakusa. I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled and tried your best to eat under the heat of his gazes. “A-and the food is exquisite.” You added.

It wasn’t because he wasn’t good company. He tried to keep conversations going, inserted jokes or puns whenever he can, and listened intently to all your stories. He’s been such a gentleman and a great date!!!But fuck it! Your goddamn heart couldn’t stop pounding everytime your eyes meet. Good thing the restaurant had dim lights because, my god, you were blushing so hard from the start, it wasn’t even funny anymore.

“Am I boring you?” He asked innocently with head tilted and slight pout in the mouth.

FUCK, NO, YOU’RE KILLING ME.

You clamped your mouth so fast as you begged for the ground to swallow you whole. You did not just say that out loud!!!

And if that wasn’t enough, you looked over at the table to a mortified Kiyoomi who blushed dangerously at your words.

“I- I did not mean that, I’m so sorry—“

“Oh? That’s a shame.” He looked down, smirking at his plate and flashing you with his two deep dimples. “You’re killing me too.”

With your heart doing a thousand cartwheels, you returned his smile. He followed your deed and allowed a soft chuckle to escape his lips until you both were laughing together. It was melodic, two happy noises singing in chorus as all the tension evaporated in the atmosphere.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as nerve wrecking after all.

—-

Masterlist!

I have been gone for so long! I’m so sorry 🥺

Here’s one story that has been sitting on my drafts for the longest time. I hope you all like it!

Suggest haikyuu characters that I may write stories about! We’ll try this out 🥹

Replies and reblogs are appreciated! <3

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watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees · 19 days

Text

Adopt, don’t shop - These celebrity boys believe in second chances

DISCLAIMER: any and all resemblance to One Direction and fanfiction about being sold to them is absolutely intentional and I wear it as a badge of honour

special thanks to @ziptiesnfries who came up with it

CW: sold to OneDirection trope reformulated into pet whump, dehumanisation, rescue shelter, abuse mention

Her heels clicked along the pristine white tiles of the corridor, as she walked in a strict straight line right in the middle, barely noticing the startled employees, who scurried to avoid getting in her way. She didn’t even bother to look up from her phone, until she got to the glass door at the end of the hallway, and even then she just glanced to her front to find the doorknob and push the door in.

A small bell rang just above her head, signalling her presence. Not like she needed it, Diana was surrounded by a powerful aura that was hard to ignore for even the most careless person. Her bright red hair, perfectly manicured long nails that matched in colour contrasted with her signature bright green jacket. She would’ve been hard on the eyes, hadn’t she carried herself with such poise and an outrageous amount of professionally applied makeup.

“Good evening Miss” The employee greeted her, standing up behind the counter with a smile plastered on, in an attempt to conceal her unease at TV-personality’s sight “How can I assist you today? Our shelter is grateful to have you on the premises, if we could-”

“I don’t have time for this” she raised a hand, silencing the poor employee on an instant. She didn’t even look up, just continued typing with one hand “I need one of those pets, a pretty one, and quick”

“Of course, of course” she rambled “I would be happy to show you around and find one suitable for your needs. You need to know, this is a rescue shelter-” but she was cut off again.

“Yeah, yeah, rescue shelter, if I didn’t know I wouldn’t be here” she raised her voice a bit “It will raise our engagement to the skies, so just bring me a pretty one!” Diana huffed, exasperated by the incompetence of the employee. She thought the same way about a lot of people.

The employee, stood for a moment, trying to evaluate whether it was the time to stand up for herself, but it wasn’t, so she hurried to the back. The pets were kept in state-sanctioned enclosures, cages really, with only a small cot and a bucket in most of them. She sometimes wondered if they truly are rescuing these people. Pets. She had to correct herself again. She looked around with a sigh, trying to figure out what a high-profile client than Diana Young look for in a pet. Bring a pretty one, it echoed in her ear.

It was a rather quiet day in the back, a few pets sat on their beds, curled up by the wall and rested, they raised their heads as she walked by, they just acknowledged her presence not expecting her to actually come for them.

She stopped turned around at the end of the row of cages and walked back, inspecting the people kept on the other side of the corridor. It was a hard decision. They had been there long enough for her to get a tad bit attached, she thought a lot about adopting one of them.

Her eyes settled on the scrawny boy in the second to last enclosure.

His hair used to always be in his face, covering his eyes from the prying eyes of potential adopters. It’s been a process, but she got him to let her tie it up.

“Oliver” she called to him softly, as she unlocked the cage. He looked up with an angry frown.

“What do you want?” he grumbled.

“There’s a lady here, interested in you” she answered, as she unclipped a leash that she kept attached to her belt to have on hand, and just stood there waiting for him to walk up to her.

“Really?” Oliver brightened up at that. He had been there for way too long and the inability to do anything about his state was killing him. He had been removed from his previous home for alleged abuse, which he didn’t quite understand. Good pets learn from punishments don’t they? Besides his owners were a nice family with two kids, the occasional beating for messing up was didn’t make his list of priorities to worry about. The first few days he was at the shelter he spent crying.

He remembered Johannah tried really hard to sooth him and make him as hopeful and comfortable as she could. She was the most active volunteer at the shelter managing the front desk most days. He didn’t make her job easy.

And now she was standing in front of him with a leash that would lead him to freedom. He regretted his initial reaction. He didn’t want to part with the kind woman on bad terms.

“I’m sorry” he muttered to her as he walked up and lifted his chin for her to attach the leash to his collar.

“No worries” she sighed, with a soft smile. He attempted to smile back and it earned him a pat on the shoulder “I have something for you” she blurted out, her mind just catching up with her.

He looked at Johanna curiously, as she reached into one of the many pockets of her cargo trousers and pulled out a little black band.

“Here, make yourself pretty” Oliver took the elastic and attempted to tie his hair up in a bun as she taught him. It turned out a lot messier than how she would’ve done it, but neither of them minded.

“Let’s go” She smiled at him and fixed a few strands before heading back to the front desk area.

Diana was tapping her shoe impatiently, with her arms crossed in front of her chest. It was a rare sight to see her with her eyes actually looking away from her phone. Johannah swallowed thickly, as she entered the room with Oliver in tow, who looked perplexed at the sight of the woman.

“I don’t have all day” she exclaimed, stepping up to the desk and picking up the pen that had the shelter’s logo printed on it, clicking it once so she could sign any document that she needed to get this over with. She only spared a glance in Oliver’s way and nodded timidly “He will do”

“His name is Oliver, he is 23 years old, he comes from-”

“Whatever, where do I sign?” Johannah sighed, this time loud with annoyance. She could be sued for not providing all information of the rescue to the prospective owner, and Diana couldn’t care less.

She pushed a stack of papers in front of her, pointing at the line at the bottom.

“Do you acknowledge that-”

“Sure, sure” Diana flipped through the pages, leaving her signature on each one.

“Miss Young, would you be interested in donating to one of these charities supporting our shelter?”

They were already out the door. She dragged Oliver behind her at a steady pace, exiting the building and right into the car that parked right by the entrance, which he was pretty sure happened to be illegal.

They sat on the two sides of the backseats, he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do. She signalled to the driver to go, then leaned back in her seat typing away on her phone.

Oliver decided to look around town while they sat in the car. Nothing seemed familiar around the streets they drove through, he wasn’t even sure if he was in the same city he used to call home.

“What was your name again?”

“Oliver, miss” he replied softly, worried that he’d anger his new owner.

“Oh, no sweetheart” she laughed, the tapping of her nails on the buttons of the phone never seemed to stop “I’m just Diana to you” He really did try to catch her attention even for a moment, looking extremely confused as he provided no other context to him, but she didn’t bother to look his way again until the end of the car ride.

“What are you waiting for?” Diana yelled, as she got out of the car slamming the door shut, not wasting time waiting for Oliver. He felt awkward as he got out, in the empty parking garage they stopped in, even though noone saw him. His leash dangled in front of him, as he rushed after the woman, who had already made her way to the elevator a few metres away from where the driver parked.

She glanced down and grabbed the collar with a sigh as they waited for the door to open.

“Okay, listen, I’ll only explain once” she started with a strict tone. Oliver’s eyes promised to drink every single word of hers up “I manage a band, I don’t expect you to know them,” she added condescendingly before she continued “Our engagement has fallen a great deal the past few months, even though they just went on tour and the new album dates ‘have been leaked,’ so we’re jumping on this movement with rescue pets and such” Oliver nodded, pretending to understand. They stepped in the elevator.

She spoke way too fast for him to keep up, explaining phenomena he felt like he had never even heard before. The kids at his old family were still way too young for boy bands and so he had never encountered such a thing before.

“You’ll be in front of camera’s a lot, we need the publicity, and when they don’t need you, you’ll be helping me out. Clear?”

Oliver felt his stomach do a double backflip as he heard about being in front of the public eye. He never even liked leaving the house, he wasn’t suited for that sort of thing. What will he even do?

The doors opened after a loud beep letting them know the elevator reached the desired floor. They arrived on another floor of the parking garage, with only one vehicle taking place in the middle parked across three spaces. It was a bus, with it’s windows blocked out with the enormous painting that took up one whole side, that read 2WayStreet in blaring red letters. Diana stepped out, dragging him along, which he miserably noted will be a common occurrence from now on.

She knocked on the door twice, only warning the occupants about their arrival before entering.

“Adopt don’t shop - These celebrity boys believe in second chances” The following week the headlines were plastered all over their pages, the newspaper and they even got a mention on national television. The stunt was working as intended, engagement increased by 35%, Diana acknowledged it, which was her equivalent of a normal person feeling victorious over a groundbreaking achievement. They can do even better, buying Oliver was one of her best ideas so far.

#whump #whump writing #whump community #pet whump #whump tropes #dehumanisation tw #idk if I can tag this as oc whump but technically I came up with other names for characters so #oc whump

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pixelatedquarter · 7 months

Text

Day 44 of Tourdust: I'm sending this from the other side of the apocalypse that just unfolded, trying to get it across while the veil is still thin, but I can't promise it will ever reach.

One thing they don't tell you about the so called Halloween 'veil' is that apparently doesn't only divide the realm of the living and the dead, but also the integrity of the timeline. Somehow, earlier than we expected to have news of our trick or treaters at the scene, we were informed they were witnessing a show from the pre-hiatus, or rather, what would have been the pre-hiatus until The Pumpkin King From The Chicago Hardcore Scene returned, in all his sunglasses-wearing milfy glory, to once again scream lyrics onstage.

Once this event unfolded it didn't take long for ghost sightings to be reported at the Pvris retirement home. At first we thought we knew what awaited, with one of them wearing a baseball cap, the ones of us most versed in tinfoil hatmaking considering perhaps at worst they were covering their costumes with sheets.

But we soon realized he was too tall to be our dear melodramatic femme fatale's dead soulmate (again); and then there were more of them. It was soon clear that ghost tricks had been summoned to obfuscate what the pumpkin king had in store for the trick or treaters, and for all of us, attending from our dear Andy's phone.

On the palm of his hand we were standing when we saw just how high the levels of sillyness were: we were safe from those ghosts for they had been busted by a sexy sexy guitar, a crack of lightning beat in time with the drums, and undoubtedly the big bad grandmilf wolf from shrek had been responsible, in his soulmate exalting poetry, of chanting the name of a star thrice. After all this tour trying to keep a semblance of matching, it's more than earned that tonight of all nights they'd each embody a wildly different member of a wildly different group.

Usually we receive critical hits of damage around the time Patrick gets his little moment to shine. We didn't even make it to the riff this time.

Faster than Beetlejuice became just a regular eyeliner wearing spirit, our werewolf turned into this ethereal human (perhaps evocative of being lost into dreamland in his nightgown, perhaps that's owed to the fantasy land he constructed around them), more an apparition of a lost soul handing out candy to the kids rather than the implied threat of a furry posing as a grandmother trying to trick us. And as the latter started singing the ever haunting tunes of Heaven, Iowa, cameras soon panned to the spot where Pete usually sits alone, as the now wigless, armourless, but just as toned god of thunder enveloped him in a hug, capturing both of them laughing, perhaps comforting each other, certainly having fun, before Thor bolted just in time to avoid missing his cue.

We know better than to make deals with devils, i promise, we do. No matter how good they look in eye makeup. But, sometimes it IS worth making a deal with Beetlejuice to get him to play I'm Like A Lawyer for our streamer. Besides, it's not like the pumpkin king, who would use the distraction of the new and devastating "when i woke up next to you" to turn into his skeletal form, would let any marriages come of it. Well, unless it's for the bit, or you mishear him state his intentions to be engaged himself to this devil. Wouldn't be the wildest thing he's said on riff. Truly, a second riff with Patrick was the greatest treat of the night and he damn well knows it, he's always been good at knowing his subjects.

And The Magic 8 Ball has always been good at knowing when to throw us for a loop. We thought 'surely. if it's reset, that means new rules will not keep showing up.' and oh how wrong we were. 'You will cover Halloween for Halloween' it told them, not giving them more than a day to practice a song that wasn't even theirs. 'And by the way, fuck the legal system' it added, for good measure, despite the lights not being as sexy as they were last time.

By the non-encore encore the only sensible member of this ragtag group, who managed to keep his full attire was the ghostbuster, the sounds from his guitar as effective as any proton pack, as powerful as the thunderous beat Thor kept on the drums.

And so it was time to end the night of trick or treating. The skeleton's bones rattled as his hips swayed, roses clung like vines intertwined with his rib cage, and a bony elbow pressed against this demon who could have been the devil himself 12 years ago, but certainly looked happier now. In spite of it all, it was Saturday again.

#the tourdust chronicles

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zappedbyzabka · 10 months

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I love the idea that older Johnny is the most butch she/her gay ever

Talking about his pussy, calling himself "girl" and Daniel calls him Babygirl and Princess, he's just really embracing being a bottom

He's still a giant slob and doesn't wear makeup or anything. Just going around feeling like Daniel's hoodie-wearing girlfriend wife and feeling like a Girl about his relationship to Daniel without changing anything about himself

This is so cuteeeeee

Daniel treats him like it too—can’t help but be so soft with him whenever they aren’t fighting, treats him like something delicate, something worth taking the time to be careful with. Like a pretty porcelain doll in an ACDC shirt, (doll with the endurance of a boxer.)

He can wear those wranglers and flannels, he’s still Daniel’s girlfriend.

Johnny smiles whenever he hears "she" or "her", it makes him feel just…nice, seen.

He knows Johnny is tough—has a high pain tolerance and is used to violent hands—but that just makes Daniel even kinder to him. He’d put his jacket over a puddle for Johnny without hesitation. He grabs him and dances him around the living room, ignoring the pain of a socked foot stepping on his because that's his girl.

Johnny was used to the queen treatment in the past from the cobras, who pretty much always put him on a pedestal and protected him from anyone who could push him off it, which is something Daniel tried to do, but then…he ended up being the protector of said pedestal. He loves coming home to see Johnny in just his jacket and underwear, watching some movies like Tank or Iron Eagle, and gushing over C. Thomas and Jason Gedreck like a boy obsessed schoolgirl. He always jumps up excitedly and runs into Daniel’s arms, barely giving him a second to steady himself before hopping up and wrapping his legs around Daniel. Daniel can’t get enough of that, and it’s tiring, but he’d rather give up cocktails for a week than put him down—disappoint his wife when she missed him so much. He just can’t help but dote on his girl, give her what she wants, and watch her face light up.

Johnny enjoys wearing lingerie and pretty things sometimes, but that’s just in front of Daniel—and it drives him wild with lust and the need to “make love” Johnny. Drink up the way the lingerie hugs Johnny’s body in all the right ways no one else can ever see.

Johnny teases him with the word "pussy" because it gets Daniel worked up, something about the way he sounds saying it referring to his hole instead of other people (though that can be hot too—seeing his wife get all pissed off and a little rude). Especially when he bites his lip at Daniel and tells him his pussy is wet for him and he needs to come take care of his wife.

Johnny feels good when he says it too. Feels amazing when Daniel is fucking him and earnestly tells him his pussy feels so good around him. When Daniel rubs the head of his cock with his fingers and says his clit is so cute he wants to suck it.

Johnny will text him whenever he’s out, if it's for long—like when he goes to work. He’ll send pictures of himself holding his shirt up so his soft pecs are out and texting, "My tits are cold, you should come warm them up with your hands."

He’ll send a different photo of the wet front of his briefs and confess he’s been "Rubbing his clit thinking about him all morning". Some texts with no photos, like "My pussy feels so empty right now" and "I want to jerk off your cock with my tits,"

Daniel has to splash his face with cold water multiple times.

And Johnny makes Daniel feel like such a man in a traditional sense—not "too short" or twiggy, not "too nice". He comes to him whenever someone/something bothers him now (it took so long to convince Johnny he didn’t always have to be independent; he didn’t have to feel bad all by himself and "suck it up") He watches intently whenever Daniel is working out/practicing Kata, says he’s getting toned, but he likes when he has a dad belly too. Says he looks hot. ("You’ve always been so handsome, however you change.")

He gets so sweet when he and Daniel are alone, snuggles him, and his voice goes soft—like Daniel makes him feel safe. He gets shy when Daniel pulls him in by his waist, kisses his rosy cheek, and tells him he’s such a lovely girl and he’s such a lucky man. He sits in Daniel’s lap and holds his face and kisses his eyelids, saying he loves how he looks in the TV light; he loves watching him—his husband, the one he always dreamed of when he was little, the one he thought he’d never have because he didn’t deserve it, but Daniel is devoted and rarely makes Johnny do things he doesn’t want to do unless it’s good for him and his health.

They barely changed with the change; that’s how their relationship was the very first time they got together and never stopped, but they’re both more comfortable now. They still roughhouse (because Johnny likes getting manhandled by him) and snip at each other like always, but they rarely get actually angry with one another anymore, just irritation coated in unconditional love.

And one thing that Daniel was happy to find out when they got together is that Johnny may be a slob, but he’s amazing at cleaning. He can get the whole house spotless within an hour.

#lawrusso #safety first #nsft #tw feminization

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janksfatass · 2 years

Text

After the Curtain Fell

Summary: Jake spots you in the crowd and invites you to have drinks with the band.

18+ Word Count 2700

Warnings: Public, Daddy/sir k!nk, dom!jake, choking, belt restraints, oral m/f rec, unprotected sex

“Fuck it up Jakey!!!” You scream at him from the crowd. He laughs and looks down at you and his smiley expression on his face turns into a sly smirk. You lock eyes with him as he comes closer to the front of the stage and see a fire burning in his irises as he holds eye contact and crouches down to start playing the intro to “Highway Tune.” You watch him intently as he glides across the stage hitting every chord perfectly. His hair sticking to the sides of his face from sweat and the faces he makes while playing leave you with a dull ache in between your legs. Toward the end of the song he bounces over to the middle of the stage with the other boys and jumps into the air as he hits the final note and the crowd erupts into cheers. You watch Josh make his way to the front of the stage.

“A big thank you to all of you beautiful people for joining us here tonight. We will see you next time!”

Josh tosses his tambourine into the crowd, while Sam throws some roses, and Danny gives out his drumsticks. Jake walks back over to his side of the stage and reaches into his pocket and tosses his guitar picks out, making sure one lands in your hands. As you start to make your way to the exit you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Excuse me miss?” You turn around to meet one of the security guards. “Sorry to bother you, but Jake requested you to meet him in his dressing room.”

You stand there for a second, confused. “Okay?” You follow the guard through the hallways and your heart begins to pound.

He opens the door and says “He should be here any moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

The room is fairly spacious with a large couch and loveseat and a vanity with a well lit mirror. You go over to check your makeup and dress. You look and feel fantastic, having chosen to wear a short floral dress with a neckline that leaves little to the imagination. You neatly apply a fresh layer of lipgloss then sit down on the loveseat and check your phone. A few moments later you hear Jake’s voice outside the door.

“I’ll meet up with you guys later!” He opens the door and sees that you’ve been waiting for him. “Sorry about that Love. I tried to make it quick.” He was wearing only a pair of blue jeans that were cuffed at the bottom and secured by a brown leather belt. His hair is still damp from his shower and water droplets trickle down his smooth chest. All you can do is stare at his beautiful body. Undressing him with your eyes.

“Fuck where are my manners? I’m Jake.”

His voice breaks you from your trance. “Oh yes. I knew that already.” You laugh. “I’m Y/N.”

Jake leans down to give you a hug and sits next to you on the couch. “I know you’re probably curious as to why I asked you to meet me.” You look over at him as a signal to continue. “I have never laid my eyes on someone as beautiful as you. When I saw you out there, I knew instantly that I needed to know more about you.”

You feel yourself begin to blush as he takes your face in his hand, rubbing over your chin with his thumb. Your breath hitches in your throat. He looks directly into your eyes, then to your mouth. “You have the most gorgeous lips, Angel.” The pet name sent a bolt of lightning to your core. He removes his hand and starts to get up. “We’re going out tonight. I’d love for you to join us.”

“Okay, that sounds like fun.” You reply. He stands up to walk over to the vanity and picks up a white button up shirt and puts it on, only fastening the lower 4 buttons. He then clasps a silver necklace with an old coin pendant, around his neck. Walking to the door, he opens it and gestures for you to exit first. Taking your hand in his, he walks you out to the car that’s been waiting for him. You step in first and he follows behind.

Once you reach your destination and walk in, you see the other guys at a table in the corner. Sam stands to greet his brother. “Hey, there he is!”

“Guys this is Y/N, Y/N this Sam, Josh, and Danny.”

“Nice to meet all of you!”

Danny turns to you, “So, how did you like the show?”

Knowing you barely paid any attention to the other three during the concert you respond, “You guys were amazing! Definitely the best concert I’ve been to.”

“Really? We try to put everything we have into each show, so thank you. It really means a lot.” You shoot Jake a warm smile.

The waitress walks up to the table to take your orders, looking at you first. “Jack and coke please.”

Then to Jake. “I’ll get a scotch on the rocks, thank you.” Jake then looks over at you quizzically.

“What?” You laugh.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a whiskey drinker.” He says.

“I guess I’m just full of surprises then huh?”

He raises an eyebrow at you as he takes a sip of water. Clearly, he’s not used to women quipping back at him. You start chatting with Jake and the boys about how hectic their tour has been so far and what their favorite spots are. After a few drinks, Jake starts doing some of his ‘famous’ accents. You start laughing uncontrollably in response to his poor attempt at an Australian accent and he looks at you and sets his hand on your thigh, rubbing his pinky to graze under the hem of your dress. “I love your laugh.”

You start to blush. “Thank you.” You meet his eyes and see the same fire in them you saw when he was on stage and he licks and bites his bottom lip. His hand remains on your leg while he starts talking to his bandmates about his amp messing up during ‘Built by Nations.’ While seemingly paying attention to the conversation you reach down to his hand and guide it up under your dress. “Man I don’t even know how it happened I was sure we-“ his breath hitches in his throat upon realizing you weren’t wearing any panties and his fingers meet the wetness pooling between your thighs. He continues his sentence, “had everything sorted out before the show started. But shit happens. Anyways, I think we’re gonna call it a night. Boys, be safe, don’t get in too much trouble.”

You look at the group, “It was so nice meeting you all! Hope to see you again soon.” You stand up and follow Jake back out to the car. He opens the door for you and climbs in after you.

“Can you take us to the hotel please?” He asks the driver. “You got it.” Jake leans in and puts his face next to your ear and you feel his breath against your neck as he whispers, “Since you want to act like a whore, I’m going to treat you like one. Do you understand?” He pulls away and looks at you waiting for a response. You look at him like a deer in headlights and simply nod.

The ride to the hotel is excruciating. The sexual tension is so thick, neither of you can hardly breathe. You let out a sigh of relief once the car stops in front of the entry to the hotel. Both of you exit the vehicle and make your way inside. Jake presses the button for the elevator and then hits the button for the 10th Floor. As soon as the doors close, he turns you around to face the wall and pulls you close to himself. His fingers wrap around your throat and he takes his other hand to pull your dress up and run his middle finger up your slit resting his fingertip on your clit. Your heart is pounding out of your chest with excitement and arousal. You feel his cock hardening against your ass. Once again, he leans into your ear and says quietly, “Who has you this wet, Doll?”

“You Daddy, it’s all for you.”

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good.” He starts to move his finger in slow circles over your clit and your knees begin to buckle as you hear the elevator ding signaling you’ve arrived on his floor. He quickly removes his hands from your body and you smooth your dress back down. He leads the way to his room and takes the key card from his pocket to open the door. He sits on the edge of the bed and points down in front of his feet, “Strip, then on your knees, Princess.”

You walk over to him and kick your shoes off before pulling your dress up over your head and tossing it to the side. You kneel down in front of him and he reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear then swipes his thumb back and forth over your cheek.

“Such a good listener. You’re being the best girl for Daddy.” He stands to unbutton his shirt then sets it down. You look up at him with wide doe eyes just in awe of the way his body looks from the bits of light shining on him from the window. He unbuckles his belt and places it on the nightstand and pulls his pants down. His cock is much bigger than you anticipated, in both girth and length, and is already rock hard with precum leaking from the tip. You wrap your hand around it and lick over the head.

“You taste so good.” You say, almost moaning as you start to take his length into your mouth.

“Fuck, yes.” He whispers as he slowly bucks his hips into your face, his cock reaching the back of your throat. He slides it in and out a few times, not going quite as deep, then places his hands on the side of your head and shoves it all the way in. “Oh fuck,”He starts fucking your face relentlessly as you gag around him, your throat clenching around the tip. Tears start to fall from your eyes, your mascara leaving black streaks down your face. He takes his thumbs to wipe them away. “You’re such an angel, baby. Your throat feels so good squeezing my cock.” He takes a fistful of your hair and pushes your head completely against him, your nose buried into his pubic hair. He holds you like that for a few seconds before pulling your head back, strings of saliva still connecting his dick to your mouth while you gasp for air. He pulls you to your feet and shoves you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and begins kissing down the side of your neck, which you’re sure will leave a trail of marks. He stops for a moment, “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Do you know what happens to good girls?”

“They get rewarded?”

“That’s right princess.” He peppers kisses in between your breasts then glides his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth and taking it between his teeth, sending a slight sting through your body. He continues kissing down your stomach before stopping at your hips. At this point your pussy is dripping and aching for some type of relief. Anything.

“Please?”

“Please what, Angel? Tell Daddy what you want.”

“I need you to touch me. Please.”

“You sound so fucking pathetic.” He scoffs then slowly slides his hands up your legs starting from your ankles up to your thighs then places your legs over his shoulders. He kisses from the inner part of your knee up to your pussy then repeats on the other side. When he reaches the top this time he slides his tongue along your center then circles your clit with the tip of his tongue and then pulls it into his mouth.

“FUCK!” You scream as you’re finally getting the relief you need. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair and you look down at him to see him staring into your eyes. You feel his lips curl into a devilish grin. Jake then starts fucking into you with his skilled fingers as he licks and sucks over your clit and your legs begin to shake uncontrollably. He stops just for a moment, “That’s it, Angel. Be a good little girl and cum for me baby.” He continues greedily lapping at you and you feel your release swelling inside you before it bursts and washes over your body. You fill the room with pornographic moans as you buck your hips into his face. He gradually slows, letting you ride out your high.

He climbs back on top of you and allows you to taste yourself on his lips. “You taste amazing Angel. I could do that all night. But remember what I said earlier? I told you I was going to treat you like a whore, and I’m a man of my word.” His eyes were black with lust and you could tell you were in for it. With a final kiss to your forehead, he grabs you and flips you onto your stomach and pulls your hips up to have your ass up in the air. He pulls your arms behind your back, holding your wrists in place with one hand and reaches over to the belt on the nightstand with the other. Your heart begins to flutter in your chest. All of a sudden you hear a smack and feel a sharp sting on your ass and you can’t help but moan out from the sensation. “You like that? You really are a filthy whore, aren’t you?” He takes the belt and secures it around your wrists. The next thing you feel is him sliding the head of his cock between your folds grazing over your clit with each stroke. He then pushes himself into you, hitting your cervix and you scream out from the slight pain that quickly replaces itself with overwhelming pleasure. He has a hold of the belt and wraps his other hand around your throat to pull you up to him. He pounds into you, his cock hitting your g spot with every thrust. “I feel that tight pussy squeezing me baby, are you gonna cum for me again?”

“Yes Daddy,” you reply in a fucked out voice.

“Cum on my dick Angel. Make a mess of me. That’s my good girl. That’s my fucking good girl, just like that. I’m gonna fill that pussy up and fuck my cum back into it.” His words, along with his cock hammering into you, sends you spiraling over the edge. Your pussy tightens around him, “Oh fuck!” his hips stutter and he slams all the way into you as he fills you completely with his warmth. Both of you breathing heavily, he slowly slides out of you to watch his cum leak out. He takes his tip to scoop it up and pushes it back into you with a few slow strokes.

Once he removes himself from you, he unties your hands. You roll over and lean down to take his cock in your mouth sucking off your combined releases. He looks down at you, “Goddamn, you dirty little girl.”

He gets up and goes to the bathroom. When he returns, he hands you a cold water bottle and takes a damp washcloth to clean you off. He climbs under the covers with you and you lay your head onto his chest. He speaks in a low voice, “You are absolutely incredible, Love. How would you feel about making this a habit?”

“I think I’d like that very much.” You smile and he leans down to deliver a kiss to your temple. As your eyes close shut from exhaustion, you thank the stars that you were able to get barricade tonight.

Part 2

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fic

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mirchloe · 3 months

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(throws dart at dartboard) under the cut, a variety of headcanons about the bozos (bobby, benny, chloe and mirtala). (brief mentions of abuse)

i like to imagine bobby has a tall, but somewhat heavyset build when he's an adult. that one post going around about "character who has struggled severe hardships gains weight to show they are now healthy and in a better place" is a trope is really think suits him, being that he's malnourished as a kid.

i don't think i care too much about the dadboto idea after all these years, though i have dabbled in it infrequently. i'm mostly neutral on it and just shrug my shoulders at any involvement of the lobotos in bobby's life since, personally, i don't feel they add much to bobby's character. his visual cues alone (torn clothing, yellow and missing teeth, severe overbite and gingivitis, matted hair, etc) suggest a worse home life and continued neglect.

i also don't think benny cares too much about bobby. yes, he definitely jumps at the chance to be around him and bolster his confidence...but immediately ditches him the second he learns oleander is ready to take over the world. he wants someone he can stand behind, then allowing him to bully and demean others. he's a lickspittle through and through as a kid, and honestly, his two-faced personality is great. he hates chloe because she's getting in the way of bobby being the top dog because it'll open a gap that pushes benny out.

as an adult, chloe just snags her boyfriend and girlfriend's clothes. she is wearing the most beautiful shawl and oversized baggy jeans. she also has a tendency to stay up for days whenever they're away, and when they come back, she's speaking cygnan and in need of human contact lol. she can be clingy, so she is walking directly into them and climbing on their backs.

"did you girls know-" (on the couch, bobby proceeds to go on the longest fighting game trivia rant known to man while playing a video game and chloe is listening intently while mirtala has conked out on her lap a quarter into bobby's rant)

mirtala likes dressing up herself and chloe, but she's enamored when chloe takes her eye makeup because chloe is, somehow, the best at it!!

bobby and mirtala go out on metamour outings, but chloe is mad because those metamour outings involve sneaking into the movies, and they've been banned from every movie theater in like a twenty mile radius. (they keep getting in tho - they're not paying for tickets, even if chloe is annoyed)

i don't think any of the aquatos are twins. to me, their ages are dion is about sixteen going on seventeen, frazie is fifteen, raz is ten, mirtala is seven going on eight, and little baby queepie just turned four or five or whatever. he's giving different ages to mess with people. also, queepie beefs with chloe when he's a teen. he thinks she's a total nerd, and chloe is just, "get sucked into a black hole, protoplasm."

#shorter than i wanted but i have to go back to working on something personally AND do my laundry lol #bobby #benny #chloe #mirtala

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rraindrops · 2 years

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Dear Lover

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Dinner

WARNING: SWEAR WORDS, LIGHT 18+ SCENE

Elena stood rooted to the spot, staring at him. She couldn't speak. This wasn't fair, she had no time to prepare for this mentally.

''It's polite to answer someone when they speak to you.'' he restrains a grin seeing how embarrassed she is.

'' I wasn't expecting you here.'' she bites her lip and resists the urge to look away.

''I could say that too, you're supposed to be in Mystic Falls. In the company of the Salvatore brothers if I'm not wrong. '' his lips fix in a straight line.

''Well as you can see I'm here.'' Elena says a bit harsher, annoyed by his words.

''Good'' Elijah says with a satisfied smile. ''I've made reservations for dinner. Will you do me the honour of joining me?'' he leans down so his eyes are level with mine.''

She can't form words. It's clear that she shouldn't accept his offer, he already left her once. But if she listens to her heart she knows she can't resist him.

''Fine.'' Wonderful. Bonnie will kill her. ''But just dinner...right?'' she breathes.

''Of course. Why, is there anything else on your mind?'' he keeps eye contact with an annoyingly hot half smile on his face.

''No, of course not.'' This is so embarrassing. '''Where shall I meet you?'' it is best if she changes the subject.

He takes a card from his inside pocket and holds it out for her. ''Just text me your address, I'm coming for you. Eight o'clock is alright for you?''

''Yeah, sure.'' she replies, really trying to hide how excited she is.

''Perfect. I'll see you later then.'' Elena nods and he starts to back, smoothing down his suit before sliding his hands into his pockets. Their eyes lock for a second. Elijah breaks the eye connection and then turns away. Elena's palms hit her cheeks as she tries to rub some life back into them. She's so screwed.

--------

Getting into someone's apartment without their knowledge is not the nicest thing to do, Elena knew that. Caroline rarely stays here so Elena just hopes she won't notice the key missing. Hopping into the huge bed she stares at the ceiling for a while. She has nothing to wear. She had no intention of going on a date with Elijah but here they are. Groaning at the sound of her ringing phone she gets up and gets it from her purse. She rolls her eyes when she sees who's calling her.

''Just wait until I find you, I'll drag you back to Mystic Falls. Why don't you make things easier for both of us and come home?'' Typical Damon.

''My answer is a no. I'm a grown-up woman so don't you dare to tell me what to do.'' Elena tries to stay calm, it would've been better if she didn't pick up the phone.

''You don't act like one right now, I only see a twenty-three-year-old child who's being irresponsible. You have one day if you don't come back by then I'll go get you myself.''

''We'll see.'' she snaps back and hangs up. Elena will never get rid of him.

She quickly sends Elijah her address. Slipping her phone back into her bag she looks at the time, five o'clock. She has three hours to get ready and there's still no dress. Opening the wardrobe she prays that Caroline has something here.

Picking out a short black dress she tries it on and heads toward the mirror to see how it looks on her. It's really simple but it still looks great. She gets her hair done and does a light makeup.

Exactly at eight o'clock a shiny black Bentley parks in front of the building. Gathering all her courage she steps out the door and walks toward Elijah. He, as ever, looks stunning in a black three-piece suit, tie perfectly knotted as always.

''Good evening lovely Elena.'' his eyes are sparkling wildly. He takes her hand and kisses the back of it.

''Elijah.'' she smiles, the way he looks at her gives her butterflies. His lovely lips give an almost undetectable smile.

''After you'' he gestures towards the car and opens the door so she can get in. She can safely say that this is the most comfortable seat in which she has ever sat. He slides into the car and pulls hastily away from the kerb.

''I'm actually surprised you invited me to dinner.'' she says glancing at him for a moment.

''That's the least I can do after everything that happened.'' he answers, his eyes still focused on the road. He doesn't have to say out loud what he meant, they both know it.

''Where exactly are we going?''

''To my apartment. I'd rather have dinner in the comfort of my own home.'' Elijah explains. Fantastic. Being with Elijah in a room is not a good sign. Never was. Elena just hopes that she doesn't end up crying.

They're in the car for ten minutes until he pulls into a car park. He lets himself out of the car and makes his way around to her. Opening the door, he holds his hands out to her. His eyes never leaving hers she steps out and his hands slide to her waist. There are only a few inches between their faces and Elena can feel her heart rate speeding up.

''Dinner.'' she whispers and looks away breaking the eye contact.

''Right.'' taking a step back, Elijah repositions his hand to get a better grip on her and pulls her towards the stairwell.

He unlocks his black door and opens it. Standing to the side he lets her step over the threshold. Elena slowly makes her way down the hallway until it opens up into a huge marble-infested living room with a few antique paintings on the wall. Everything is just perfect.

''This place is beautiful.''

''I like being here, it's peaceful. Especially without my siblings.'' he closes the door and takes her hand gently pulling her towards the dining room.

''I can imagine.'' she huffs and takes a seat at the huge table.

''Would you like some wine?'' Elijah asks, removing his jacket he puts it over the back of a chair.

''Yes, please. '' she replies, her gaze on the food served on the table. ''Why did you leave New Orleans?'' Elena was curious why did Elijah leave Klaus behind. Elijah's first priority was always searching for Klaus's redemption.

''It was for the better. He has Hope now, and I thought it would be the best to get away from there for a while.'' he hands her a glass of wine and takes the chair at the other end. Elena knows there's more to it but decides to stay silent.

''I'm more interested about you though. If my memory serves me right you finally managed to choose between the Salvatore's.'' his voice held a hint of sarcasm and Elena exhales a wary breath. Squirming in her chair she tries not to say something she'll regret later.

''Stop.'' she whispers. ''What exactly did you expect from me? You went away without a single word in the first place not me so stop being a jealous asshole.'' her eyes are filled with irritation. He has no right to judge her after everything that happened.

''Language.'' he tells her sternly before he continues. '' If I hadn't left you probably wouldn't be a human right now or worse you'd be dead.'' Elijah explains as he swirls his wine still perfectly calm.

''How noble of you.'' she huffs and takes a sip of her wine. '' And what about me, my feelings? These are just poor excuses for why you left and we both know that. You have no right to judge my actions, if I'm with one of the Salvatore's that's my business and if I want to fuck one of the Salvatore's that's also my business.'' she spits, feeling her blood heat with rage she makes her way towards the door. This was a bad idea, coming here was a bad idea and Bonnie was right again.

Before Elena could react Elijah stood before her. Stupid vampire speed. He's so close to her that's it's impossible not to look into his eyes. They don't say anything for a few seconds before his lips cover her in a long passionate kiss. She accepts it without hesitation as he pushes her against the wall, his hands all over her. A small moan escapes her mouth while she's clasping his shoulders. Pushing his groin into her tummy, his hardness throbs against her and it makes both of them groan from pleasure.

Elijah pushes himself away and he strides away. ''Shit. I shouldn't have brought you here.

''You're right.'' she mumbles trying to hold herself steady. ''I should go.'' she gathers her bag and heads to the door, not looking back

Tags: @jackandjackiekennedylover @lou-hadrian-gardna26

#elejah #elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #au #the originals #vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson x reader

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artdecosupernova-writing · 1 year

Text

Word Prompt

Word: Move WIP: Darkspace Portent Timeline: sometime in the M31 arc CW: it’s a bit spicy but it’s fine lmao Word Count: 1,994 Additional Notes: Companion songs to this piece are “Tongue Tied (feat. Brandyn Burnette)” by Mahalo & Disco Killerz and “If You’re Going (I’ll Go)” by Anna Shoemaker

***

It had been a month and a half of back-to-back missions for the Consortium. All but one mission was considered a failure, with minimal but heartbreaking casualties, resulting in the dressing-down of a lifetime from the delegates. Warren resigned himself to taking time off indefinitely, his spirits crushed seemingly beyond repair, and made the trip home to Tournaltis with the hope that Thrive would be there. Perhaps not to take on the worst of his frustrations as he knew he'd had a major project going on, but at the very most he'd hoped he could lounge around while Thrive worked, absorbing his vibe and taking solace in his company.

Instead, upon disembarking, he was greeted by Hondris informing him that Thrive wasn't even going to be planetside for at least a week.

Which was fine…or so Warren thought.

He tried sleeping, though it was the middle of the day and the capital house felt empty despite the fact that he knew it wasn't. He attempted to watch a movie on the terminal in the wall across from his bed, but he wasn't able to focus on it for more than a minute at a time. Even the vids of past Skywaste concerts held no appeal to him—he did shoot Guetry a text complaining that his "lack of showmanship" threatened to put him to sleep.

To which Guetry responded a few minutes later with only a picture of himself, makeup running down his face though his buoyant expression contradicted him, in front of a screen displaying the exorbitant contents of his bank account. He had a middle finger up for good measure. Warren laughed out loud.

He spent some time in the kitchen, indulging in his favorite fruit and chatting with others, but found he was simply too restless to unwind. He left the kitchen in a fouler mood than when he'd entered, and he stopped by his room to change into a cropped t-shirt and sweatpants before trudging to the back of the house where his newly built personal dance studio resided, intent on implementing the second-best way he knew how to outlet his stress.

He opened the door with his shoulder and startled at the realization that someone was standing in the far corner near the ambient controls.

"Yo, what—?!"

"Ah. I expected you earlier." Thrive tapped the touchscreen, swiped at something else, and continued to speak without otherwise acknowledging Warren's presence. "I suppose that's my fault. There'd be no way for you to know what the plan was if no one told you, in fact, what the plan was. Though that's the aim of a surprise, I know that."

Warren let the door close behind him, still stunned. "…Were you here the whole time? I've been home for hours."

Thrive glanced at the window over his shoulder, the massive window that stretched the width of the entire room and was impossible to miss if you weren't highly engrossed in something else. He seemed to just notice the distant sunset. "So you have."

"What the hell is going on? What plan? I thought you had a project to work on."

"That part is true," Thrive said, rubbing his hands together and frowning at the controls again. "I'd been working on something since your first mission failed. It's taken me quite a long time to prepare. I'm not certain it's been perfected, but I've discovered in my research that perfection isn't something to strive for as far as this is concerned. Especially when it comes to preparation being one-sided."

Warren sighed. Seeing that Thrive was home definitely acted as a mood booster, but tension still corded through his shoulders. "What are you talking about?"

Thrive finally looked at him, and Warren only then spotted the form suit—hued in a shade of the darkest chocolate, definitely an obhelian make, possibly not functional like a form suit at all. A glorified bodysuit with shorter sleeves than was usual. "For a few days following your call after the first mission, I racked my brain for an idea of how best to be there for you. You called me again soon after with the news of the second failed mission and I realized that this was going to have to be a serious gesture. Something that would mean more to you than anything I've ever done to this point. And then it occurred to me."

He tapped the screen and the lights faded down until they shut off, bathing the room in the natural glow of the setting sun.

"With each call relaying your hardships, I became more determined, despite my personal discomfort and disdain for the activity, to achieve a specific goal: be a partner." He set a timer that counted down from twenty seconds and turned to Warren, approaching him from across the room. "I think now, more than ever, that carries the weight of several meanings."

Warren met him halfway, unsure the conclusions he drew in his mind were correct though the evidence added up without error. "What's happening right now…?"

"Unless I'm mistaken, you're experienced with duet choreography, are you not?"

A bolt of excitement ripped through Warren, and he stared up at Thrive with wide eyes and a creeping grin. "Oh, shit…are you about to dance with me?"

"I understand that improvisation is somewhat more difficult for duos, especially if one party isn't as familiar with the practice as the other. I'm confident, however, that having the advantages of oras'at combined with our unique brand of connection through physical contact will make this a smoother exercise." Thrive appeared focused as he stood in front of Warren, the edge of a smile peeking through despite. "If you trust me, that is."

"Okay. Never been so fucking in love with you before."

"Reserve those revelations for the end," Thrive murmured, sliding an arm around Warren's waist. "You may change your mind depending on how this goes."

"Oh, baby, c'mon." Warren gripped the back of Thrive's neck, gazing into his eyes, full to bursting with adoration and affection. His breath hitched in his chest with it. "You could be the worst dancer imaginable and I wouldn't care. I know you hate the very idea of this, so this means more to me than you'll ever understand."

Thrive did smile, then, his outline a halo from being silhouetted by the sun. "If it makes you feel anything close to how I feel when I'm with you, then I'll have succeeded."

The timer reached zero, the first song swallowed the room, and the connection was instant. It started as gentle rocking, synced due to Warren's hand at the back of Thrive's neck, and when the music picked up, so did they.

They danced as if they were a single entity. Confidence building between them, keeping their hands on one another in any way possible, taking cues from their connection and their instincts to anticipate the scope of their next move. While Thrive wasn't exuberant in his motions, he proved to be an excellent partner, knowing when to support and knowing when to cooperate, when to give and when to take. He was surprisingly fluid, though considering his style of combat and the range of his flexibility, Warren supposed he should've expected it.

Sun sinking into the horizon, nobody existed in the universe but the two of them, as often was the case when alone. The longer the night rolled on, the more sensual their dancing, Thrive having figured out Warren's favorite moves. He leaned him back, gripped his hips, and they swayed close enough together that the heat of their bodies inflamed Warren from head to toe. They shared an incredibly lustful space yet had so much fun doing it that time soared by yet stretched the length of an eternity. There reached a point where Warren was convinced that stopping would be a greater letdown than interrupted carnal intimacy.

He'd no sooner had that thought when the playlist ended and they were plunged into sudden silence. The room was dark, the stars in the night sky outside the window witness to Thrive holding him close, fingers entwined, a hand curled into Warren's hair.

Warren used a second to catch his breath, heart wild in his chest, his skin tingling from their proximity and the sheen of sweat he'd somehow gone without acknowledging until then.

"I'm pickin' up on some interesting things from you here, E.T.," he said, barely a whisper against Thrive's lips.

Thrive pressed forward so he could speak in Warren's ear. "That, my love, is all you."

"Okay, so…guess I'll go, then."

In the strained quiet that followed, Thrive tilted Warren's face up to his and kissed him, heavy and emotional. Warren hopped into his arms, claiming his mouth, the snap of reality becoming a catalyst of desire that coursed through him with far more intensity than ever before. Thrive slid his hands up his back under his shirt, sinking to the rubber foam floor with him, riding their continued mental connection into a desperately-craved physical one.

—

Late the next morning, Warren shuffled into the bustling kitchen feeling as haggard as he possibly looked.

Corin greeted him with a travel mug of coffee and a plate of breakfast. "Courtesy of the king," he said, motioning to the stoves where several people had taken to cooking meals, including Thrive.

Warren caught Thrive's eye and smiled. "Hey, gorgeous."

"Ugh, don't," Corin muttered, setting the plate down in front of Warren and moving away.

Thrive ignored him. "Good morning, Warren." He scraped something from a pan onto a plate held out to him by Roel. "I trust you slept well?"

"…Yes and no. Slept better than I have in ages, but I think I was hit with, like, a whole meteor between falling asleep and waking up."

"Prolonged physical activity can cause muscle soreness after the fact, of course," Thrive said. He cracked an egg of some kind into the pan. "I hope you don't mind that I moved you to your bed—I assumed waking up on the floor of your studio would have worsened the soreness."

Corin made a loud noise of disapproval and Ryst smacked him on the back of the head. Thrive released a quiet but powerful chuckle at Corin's expense.

Warren nodded in Corin's direction. "We'll continue the conversation discreetly after I shut my stomach up."

"Bountiful Skies," came Corin's sarcastic reply.

Thrive waited in Warren's room once the kitchen had been cleaned, and Warren greeted him with a strong embrace, planting a solid kiss on him as he did so.

"Damn," he said, sliding a hand up to Thrive's shoulder. "I still can't get over what happened last night."

"You don't have to." Thrive smiled at him, a warm one he'd only broken out in his company. "If it's alright with you…I'd like to do that again."

Warren blinked, taken aback. "…Which part?"

"All of—well." Thrive quirked his eyebrows suggestively. "All of it, I suppose. Though I more specifically meant dancing. I may not understand the cultural significance the same way you do, and I may still think it's somewhat ridiculous, but I do understand that the benefits are numerous. Your enjoyment and gratification were…intoxicating. A bonus."

"Okay." Warren was lighter than air, beaming, already sensing the most taxing month and a half in a long time melting off of him under the sunlamp of Thrive's participation in his hobby. "Yeah. Let's make it a routine. We could come up with special choreography just for us."

"Spiritual." Thrive pressed a gentle kiss to Warren's cheek, then his jaw. "Enamored."

"Impressed that I've whittled you down to only one-word sentences," Warren teased, then kissed him again, for real.

By the end of the week, Warren was in a good enough place that he felt he could go back to work. However, this also meant that by the end of the week, he was in a good enough place that he didn't really want to.

#word prompt #Darkspace Portent #M31 Arc #pair: Sun & Moon #repost

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gamelost · 1 year

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he's got a brush between practiced fingers, applying makeup in confident, sweeping brushstrokes. kankuro is quiet while he works on matt ( probably the quietest he ever is, what with his propensity to run his fucking mouth ). he has an intense, focused gaze that takes in every inch of his face, every detail, over and over again. every move he makes is deeply intentional, tremendously thoughtful, like matt is a great work of art in the making and he won't dare make a misstep. the way kankuro had suggested this so casually, with a shrug and feigned indifference, has fallen completely to the wayside. now, he works so seriously, so carefully, so damn close that matt can surely feel his breath on his skin. it's clear this means something to him, something important and much more intimate than he's let on in words.

kankuro's free hand finds its way to matt's chin and he turns his head, tilts it upwards ever so slightly. "close your eyes one more time. just want to make sure they're even." he checks his work and smiles, satisfied. "'kay, I think you're finished." and he pulls away after quite some time hovering in matt's personal space ( perhaps a warmth that will be missed ). kankuro holds up a mirror, revealing shimmering gold face paint adorning matt's eyelids, lips, and in the same bold geometric patterns that kankuro wears himself. "what d'you think? too much?"

this is special to kankuro.

matt knows this the way he knows everything in life, he knows this the way he knows that if he were to open his phone and dial mello's number, the only response would be the dial tone. he knows it is something kankuro does not offer freely, like taking his own self apart and putting the pieces back together on a different canvas.

when kankuro first asked if matt would let him paint his face, he knew he had to consider his answer. kankuro had always been in facepaint since the day matt met him, though the paint he had on at the party that night had been some kind of black light reactive paint, glowing in a way under the lights that seemed to reflect endless color in his eyes. of course, usually it was the dark tyrian purple that adorned his skin, not that matt had any issues with that.

and so he lets kankuro crowd into his space, allows himself to be perched on the bathroom counter while kankuro gets his paints out, and takes his time replicating the geometic patterns on matt's face. he always enjoys the time he spends close to him, and the gentle touch of the brush over his skin is no different.

he hasn't seen himself without goggles on in what feels like ages. he avoids the mirror when he enters the bathroom most days, eyes downcast and his attention focused on the task at hand. with the paint on, he looks beautiful -- ethereal in a way he usually only associates with kankuro himself.

matt had given kankuro creative liberty with choosing a color, but he had read about the japanese practice of kintsugi once, how they take things that are broken and repair them with gold. these cracks filled with the color and stronger than they once were for it.

he thinks about how that's what kankuro did for him -- every crack and chip in him, it was filled and stronger than before, with kankuro at his back. he almost feels his eyes tearing up, but he squashes that down after a second.

'𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚘.' and he's cracking that wry smile at him. '𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞.'

@allgather

#allgather #i think about this a normal amount

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expfcultragreen · 1 year

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I had a dream last night where i was somewhere with lindsay lohan and a girl who reminded me of faith from buffy and they were teenagers and they did the classic mean girl move of inviting themselves over to steal from me, and i noticed 2 valentines themed limited edition lipsticks i had in the dream were missing, right as they were leaving, so i chased them out the door of my room and into a hotel/lodge sort of place. They had ditched their bags in another room with one of their dads and i was like "your kid and her friend stole from me so let me check their bags for my shit" and just started going thru the duffles with him standing there. He sat down and seemed kind of in shock and he was like 'what do i do about this...' as i finished going thru Lindsay's bag. I found my stuff in the other girl's bag, it had tissue wrapped around it and the lipsticks had turned into 5 or 6 joints in strawberry and raspberry juicy jay papers. I was like 'yes! My precious valentines joints!' and ran out of the room again. Then i was back in my old hs bedroom but the bed was huge and more than halfway up to the ceiling and had pillows and duvets everywhere. I was in the middle of it in a the-strawberry-dress style white gown with red hearts on it, and then dax flame showed up out of nowhere and was like "hello" and i was like "oh hi, come over here and get comfy" and we sort of started to cuddle, then he was like "wait a second," and climbed down off the bed, and then came back up into it wearing a dress like mine, and snuggled in near to me. I directed him briefly on getting positioned optimally so his head was on my chest and our arms were loosely around eachothers torsos, he took my suggestions without reservation. The vibe was wholesome and mildly erotic, like it was going somewhere.

He asked me something about what i do and then it was like, i had already sat up excitedly because we were upright and facing eachother; I had long turquoise hair and i was talking excitedly like i was on meth. I said "well ive spent most of the last 13 years on tumblr, you know--influencing the culture." Somehow it seemed like i had evoked a noncorporeal effigy of my impact and it was considerable. Dax's position relative to mine shifted 90 degrees, around the topic. Then i was like "right now im running a pretty popular heart themed blog..." and i felt sort of like, that sounds really silly probably, but i saw his face and he was staring at me intently, with guileless focus--very politely/kindly engaged--no negative judgement but seemingly no indepth private thoughts about it, like it would have been uninteresting except that it was just what he had wanted to know. Then he was gone, and i was looking at my heart blog on a computer with no monitor edges (under the bed? Near it?) and under one of my posts were a new couple reblogs from dax, the first of which was "an invite to the heart war," which was like the skeleton war, but internet-wide and heart-themed; it was the heartbombers vs the antihearts. Everyone on our side was making every part of the net they could, pink and red and heart shaped.

Then, completely apropos of the invite, i was standing outside a drag ball taking place in a school gym, and i was with my drag mother and i was in a heart themed outfit. My drag mother looked sort of like monet x change but distinctly had bob the drag queen's personality and voice, and she was urging me to take my musical cue from the track that was playing and run on stage (ie to the front of the crowd; everyone was just on the floor, perpendicular to the bleachers. There was a full drum kit and random electric instruments and like cords and mic stands and amps everywhere in the stage area). I was looking at my outfit in a mirror, it was a metallic red bodysuit with a red shoulderlength bob, my drag mother had a very similar look in different shades of red. My makeup was all red and on my 'eyelids' (the area under my natural eyebrows) there were pink and red 3d heart appliqués. I was like 'not enough actual hearts! i have more heart stuff in my room, this needs more!' And just as the track that was playing really loudly from the gym hit its spoken word intro--which is when i should have intro'd--i ran into my room around the corner to look for stuff for my outfit, like heart shaped sunglasses with like antlers made of hearts on the brows, and heart accessories. But i couldnt find the stuff i wanted immediately and was rummaging around going "cmon cmonnnn! Fuck!" for a few bars of music before finally giving up and running back out of the room into the foyer outside the gym door and then directly into the gym through the crowd, ending in a powerslide on one knee into the cleared space for performers. I made my very late entrance sort of scooting myself further with my hands, and when i skidded to a stop and pivoted to face the crowd just as the main lyrical part of the song started, i quickly started fake-out lipsyching and realized i didnt know the words, didnt recognize the song, and had already completely fucked up even faking it, AND in half a second i was going to have to hop up to my feet and start improving choreo, too. I woke up abruptly right then.

Later that night i dreamed i was trying to get simon to read a two page paper i had written for a class i was sitting in, there were desks and stuff and other students, the room was weird like an auditorium style lecture hall mixed with a masonic lodge or whatever. I was shouting in frustration, sounding strangled and hectic, and i kept losing the two papers in a pile of stuff around my feet, and the papers were getting more and more compressed into a fan shape from how i kept gripping them and waving them around together. The paper was important for the class but also i knew it was like, i had penned some kind of earthshattering poetic-prose metasocial treatise that was pivotally important to global art & philosophical history, on page two. Simon kept insisting that because i had loaded exposition into a line of dialogue midway down page 1 (the only exposition or dialogue on either page), it wasnt worth reading and martin would never have been so gauche as to write badly and then expect someone to read it. My dad was sitting with some people off to the side of the room and i could implicitly hear him thinking that if he hadnt understood where i was coming from he'd have been as dismissive and impatient as simon, listening to my raised voice and wracked tone, and he was feeling something akin to embarassment at me, like he was halfway inhabiting this parallel self who didnt see my pov and was ashamed i was his kid acting like that.

#dream journal #dax flame

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mooncleaver · 2 years

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☆ attractive things they do ☆

꒰ pairings: percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, piper mclean, annabeth chase; gn! reader ꒱

꒰ warnings: rambling, suggestive ꒱

masterlist

ʚ PERCY JACKSON ɞ

pulls and plays with your belt/ waistband when you kiss. he will do this in the most unsuspecting moments, and you're still not used to it even after countless times. you'd be mindlessly walking somewhere, and he'd pull you by your waistband to kiss you. im actually blushing bye. he'd play around with it too, dragging his fingers around it and tugging it lightly. he laughs out loud. and im talking about both throaty, deep rumble, echoing laugh and also ugly cackling. but you know what? he still looks freakin fine doing either. it just catches you off guard sometimes because the way he throws his head back, or the way he clutches at a surface when he's wheezing, the veins popping.. wears sweatpants LOW low around the house.. and top that off with his chb necklace dangling around, do i even need to elaborate? speaking of skin, the way his shirt rides up when he stretches, you’re peeking at his toned abdomen like 👀 sir?

ʚ JASON GRACE ɞ

rolling up his sleeves. this man just has to have some BEEFY arms. like everyone who does hand to hand combat or specializes in weaponry probably does and you'd never miss the chance to ogle at them. it could be if he had to have his arms involved in doing something and he doesn't want to have his clothes dirty. you know how someone would come from behind and explain something you don't understand? he does that. on purpose? or absent-mindedly? we will never know. if you're looking over battle plans or documents and stuck on a certain thing he'd lean onto you from behind, his face so close to yours that if you turn your head you'd be inches away from kissing face planting on him. just speaking beside your ears giving you shivers.

ʚ LEO VALDEZ ɞ

when he goes on talking about the things he’s passionate about. i just know despite his joke-y exterior this man has brains for days. its so captivating to hear him saying all that terminology, just completely dominating his area of specialty. watch him work with that archimedes sphere, his brain capacity is unlimited. we love a smart man. leo can COOK. he does best at traditional because it's a close way for him to connect to his heritage and also brings him a lot of comfort and nostalgia, but if you ask this man to cook you something he WILL do it. him running around the kitchen, smoke completely obscuring that area and the sounds of knives and glass chinks amongst him donning a 'kiss the cook' apron. you best believe a kiss isn't the only thing he'll get after dinner.

ʚ PIPER MCLEAN ɞ

stares straight into your eyes when you're speaking. if you’ve seen that one jhene aiko interview that had the ‌interviewer stuttering, that's exactly what piper does. and it's not like she has some hidden intentions or anything (well, maybe sometimes) but she just genuinely wants to put all her attention to what you're talking about. when you tell her about your day she'd set her crystalline eyes straight at yours and tilt her head a bit, a sweet smile swelling on her face as she listens to your rambles and anecdotes. you either get caught off guard for a second or just keep going bc you know she likes to pull that shit up sometimes. she's comfortable in her own skin. she's not afraid to alter her looks. in tlh ik it looked like she cut her hair with kiddy scissors, but i honestly think that was so attractive. i love choppy hair. now she doesn't rlly do it to avert attention off herself, but because she likes how it looks and doesn't care about what other people think. she experiments with clothing styles, makeup looks and aesthetics and she makes the most unusual pairs looks good. (still not over that hello kitty top in mark of athena)

ʚ ANNABETH CHASE ɞ

when she puts her hair up in ponytail. or when she touches her hair in any way idc she's hot. sometimes when she's in her room and looking through books or documents or literally just sitting, you'd stop in your tracks and look up from where you're seated, and she's bunching her golden locks up exposing her delicate neck. in other ways, she could be frustrated after not figuring something out, and she'd run her hair through her hair. like when people with long hair rake their hands through to part it or get it out of their faces, it's 10x more attractive when she has a small frown on her face. annabeth likes to smirk at you. is it the 'i told you so' smirk, or the 'you look good' smirk or the suggestive smirk we don't fucking know but its attractive as hell. i do think annabeth is the kind of person who doesn’t hesitate to stand up for herself. if she knows something she will say it, if someone belittles her she will defend herself and put that person back on their asses. may come off as a bit abrasive but she has good intentions. it’s very enjoyable to watch the way the opposing person crumble, or you’re just rlly impressed by her knowledge.

🌿🍈🗯️→ GUYS IM SORRY THESE WERE A BIT EXCESSIVE.. i just keep writing and my head starts coming up with new things and im like damn i wouldn't mind if this character did that to me 😗

but anyways yayy im kinda back from writing hiatus! i am working on a one shot rn, but i may be a bit inactive on tumblr just because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

so i tried to write for other characters bc i love women, and im really sorry if there are any inaccuracies!! just going with my personal opinion but pls be gentle this is my first time writing for them hehe..

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after-witch · 3 years

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Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on.

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side. You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you. He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding.

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness.

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight, you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere #afterwitch writes

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martelldoran · 3 years

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WHAT'S THE CAUSALITY LOOP THEORY

Why Emma, thank you so much for asking. I’m not going to waste time before jumping into this because this is gonna get long so without further ado...

Steve Rogers’ Ending and How Endgame Doesn’t Support a Causality Loop and other such rambles

Last month, I came across a TikTok that proposed that Steve’s ending made sense because it existed within a causality loop. I would link the TikTok but I didn’t save it at the time and trying to find videos on that app is impossible. You think Tumblr’s search function is bad? 🙄 But I digress. The TL;DR of the video is that due to time travel and Steve choosing to go back in time to be Peggy’s husband, it created a causality loop where he was always meant to be her husband because he went back in time and stayed there. The TikToker supported his argument by using Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (PoA), another film that uses time travel and has a clearly defined example of a causality loop. However, his argument is fundamentally flawed so I’m going to combine my knowledge of my two biggest fandoms to tell you why.

Continued under the cut because I have no chill. Beware, it's long.

To first tell you how Endgame (EG) doesn’t support a causality loop, we must establish how PoA does establish one and does it successfully. The TikToker specifically mentions the scenes that take place at Hagrid’s Hut surrounding Buckbeak the hippogriff’s execution, so we’ll look at those first. What the film does really well is establish early on that there is something weird going on well before anyone actually goes back in time. There are three things that happen in quick succession during this scene which sets up the causality loop we see later in the film. First, a rock flies through the window and breaks a jar. Second, another rock hits Harry in the back of the head. Third, once outside, Hermione hears a branch snap and thinks she sees ‘something’. There are also two additional moments later on in the film once the Harry, Ron, and Hermione have come out of the Shrieking Shack which should also be noted: a wolf howl that distracts Remus Lupin in werewolf form from attacking the group and somebody casting a full-bodied stag patronus at the edge of the lake to save Harry and Sirius from the Dementors.

Of these occurrences, the first is arguably the most important because it does the most to establish that there is something going on outside of the Trio’s current understanding of their situation. The film makes a point to frame the jar breaking as Important Information the Audience Must Remember because it shows a visibly confused Hermione reacting to it as she picks up the rock for closer inspection and we the audience are given close up of it in her hand. Not only is it framed front and centre in the shot but the rock itself is very distinctive. It’s almost wholly smooth but for a swirl of fossil, thus marking it as not just any rock but An Important Rock To Be Remembered. This was an intentional choice by director Alfonso Curon because he uses this rock to connect this moment to its mirrored scene later on once Harry and Hermione use the Time Turner.

The audience and the characters find out about the causality loop at the same time. There are clearly stated rules of time travel that say that they aren’t to meddle with time but when Harry and Hermione see that Dumbledore, the Minister for Magic, and the executioner are on their way to Hagrid’s hut they panic because their counterparts aren’t leaving. Then, we see Hermione notice something in the pumpkin patch: a distinctive rock, smooth with a swirl of fossil. Again, we see have a close up shot with the rock centred to show its importance. Stylistically, it’s very similar to the shot we saw earlier in the film which gives the audience an emotional pay off for noticing the connection. When Hermione throws the rock and breaks the jar, it sets the causality loop in motion. The jar was always going to break because they went back in time to throw the rock that breaks it.

And it’s the same with all the other instances. Hermione throws the second rock that hits Harry in the back of the head to alert him to the fact they need to get out of the hut. Hermione snaps the branch and is almost seen by her counterpart in the past. Hermione makes the wolf call to distract Lupin from attacking. Harry, and not his father as he had assumed, casts the patronus to save himself and Sirius from the Dementors. But each of these moments are set up clearly in the ‘first run through’ to set up their payoff when the characters realise, ‘Oh, I did these things. They were always meant to happen.’ From a narrative standpoint, these are planned out moments to clue the audience into the fact that there’s something bigger at play. It keeps them ‘in the loop’ as it were.

This doesn’t happen in EG.

To successfully have set up a causality loop that made sense and had the same kind of set up and pay off as we see in PoA, it would have had to have been established as early as 2014 in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (CA:TWS). This does not happen. One of the main themes of CA:TWS is moving on from the past. Peggy Carter herself even says, “I’ve lived my life, my only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours.” Then saying soon after, “Sometimes the best thing we can do is to start over.” Peggy’s character in Captain America: The First Avenger is set up as someone who acts as the backup/back bone of Steve’s own moral compass. When Steve falters at Azzano about what to about the captured 107th, Peggy is there to remind him of what is right. She serves a similar narrative function in CA:TWS. Steve is struggling with life in the present. He’s just seen the helecarriers and argued with Nick Fury about protection vs fear after the botched Lumerian Star mission. Morally, he’s in turmoil and has turned to Peggy for council because he’s trying to find purpose in world where his rigid morality seems to have no place.

From the point of view of creating a causality loop, one would think that this scene in the hospital would be the place where an initial set-up could be made and alert the audience to the long term plan for Steve’s character. Instead, we have Peggy mourning the fact that Steve didn’t get to live his life the way it should have played out, and why would a woman who has supposedly been married to another version of Steve tell him to move on? In addition, when Steve visits the Smithsonian, he watches a video where he sees Peggy talking about how he influenced her life and how during one of his missions, he saved the man that would go on to become her husband. This is the only mention of Peggy’s husband in the entire franchise until Steve reappears as an old man at the end of EG.

Captain America: Civil War (CA:CW) also offers an opportunity to set up the causality loop at Peggy’s funeral but again, this does not happen. The only family we are introduced to is Sharon Carter, Peggy’s grand-niece. When it comes to filmmaking, every choice made is intentional. From the hair and makeup to the clothes, to the music used, everything in a film means something whether it is to further character development, world-building, or the plot. Filmmakers have a limited amount of time to convey a story and anything that doesn’t matter isn’t shown. Therefore, we can conclude from the text of the film that Peggy’s husband doesn’t matter to the narrative. The person in Peggy’s family who matters to the narrative is Sharon Carter which is why she is given prominence during CA:CW’s funeral scene. Had the causality loop been set up here, there would have been a defining moment like in PoA where the audience is clued into the larger story arc. Maybe someone says something, or he meets his older self, but that doesn’t happen. It should also be noted that apart from a small scene in Ant Man, Peggy isn’t mentioned again until EG.

In Endgame itself, the film still fails to set up a causality loop. It could be argued that this is the most important film for the set-up because this is when the audience gets the payoff. The first thing we see after the 5-yer time jump is Steve in a group therapy session for those that survived Thanos’ snap. Survivors share their stories and Steve talks about Peggy, a woman who has been dead in canon for 7-years and who died of old age. It’s incongruous and sticks out because narratively it doesn’t make sense for him to talk about her and not someone he watched disintegrate in front of his eyes. Steve watches his best friend and hundreds of others turn to ash around him and that film ends on his horrified face as he sits by his best friend’s ashes. Narratively, this is the thread that should carry through to EG but instead, he talks about missing his chance with Peggy. However, unlike PoA, there is no indication whether through dialogue or framing that clues the audience into Steve’s eventual ending at the end of the film.

Even when he goes back to the 70s, we see him looking mournfully at Peggy through the blinds in her office and a picture of him, pre-serum, on her desk. Steve and Peggy’s relationship prior to Endgame is supposed to represent the bittersweet loss of the life he could have had had he not sacrificed himself to the cause in CA:TFA. Then, since the audience knows from Steve and Peggy’s conversation in the hospital in CA:TWS that she moved on from Steve to live a happy life, we can assume that this picture is meant as nothing more than a fond memento of someone that meant a lot to her. Once more, there is no indication that Steve is ever meant to be her husband.

It’s impossible to infer a causality loop here in the same way as we saw in PoA. In PoA, there is a payoff for every single unusual or weird moment the story presents the audience before and after the use of time travel but this is something that’s completely absent from Endgame’s narrative. Steve himself doesn’t even vocalise a desire to go back in time at any point in EG nor at any point during the other films he appears in. In fact, when questioned by Tony Stark about the possibility of ‘going home’ in Avengers: Age of Ulton, he says, “The guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out.” While it is indicative of his unhappiness in the modern-day, it does indicate a level of acceptance of the fact that this is his life and he has to make his peace with it. He’s taken what Peggy said in CA:TWS on board. He’s starting over and moving on.

With time travel, and Steve choosing to stay in the past came the fan theory that one of the pallbearers carrying Peggy’s casket in CA:CW is Old Man Steve, her husband. When presented with this fan theory, writer Christopher Markus said during an interview with the LA Times at SDCC 2019,

“I would very much like that. There is no set explanation for Cap’s time travel . . .I mean, we’ve had public disagreements with [directors Anthony and Joe Russo] about what it [time travel] necessarily means, but I love the idea of there being two Steve Rogers in the timeline. One who lived a long life with Peggy and is in the background of that funeral scene watching his young self carry his wife’s coffin up. Not just for the time travel mumbo jumbo of it, but for the just weird, personal pain and satisfaction that would be happening between two Steve Rogers there. I kind of love it.” [emphasis mine]

This shows that unlike in PoA there was no intention of creating a causality loop prior to Markus writing EG with his writing partner Stephen McFeely. In fact, it makes clear that the actual rules of time travel were in contention and that even those making the film didn’t have a unified idea of what they wanted to create in the first place. The fact that there is confusion surrounding EG's time travel is due to the fact that the people behind it, didn't seem to know what they were writing or consider the consequences of it.

What all of this shows is that an argument of a PoA style causality loop doesn’t hold water. The film doesn’t support it, nor do any of the previous films, because there aren’t any indicators for the audience to latch onto. There is no moment of the rock breaking the jar, or the patronus chasing away the dementors, no moment where that the audience is told to hold into this information for later because there’s some timey wimey stuff going on. Ultimately, when examined, there is no set-up for a causality loop that supports the theory he was always supposed to go back and be Peggy’s husband, particularly when examined against a film that successfully lays it out from the start.

Right, the more academic (lol) part of this post is done. I just want to address one more TikTok that bothered me because I have opinions and MCU Captain America is my Mastermind specialist subject.

The TL;DR of this one was that Steve’s ending made sense because he got out of the fight and was at peace and that that has been the ultimate goal of his character arc. This person argued that Steve used the Avengers to distract himself from the fact that he’s this man out of time and he can’t find peace without a fight which to some extent, I agree with. I don’t deny that that is a major driving force to his story. We see that in Age of Ultron with his WandaNightmare. I don’t deny that that is key to his character. However, this creator then made a comment at the end of this video to the tune of, ‘bUt BuCkY iS hIs StOrY aRc’ and tried to play it off like this wasn’t true or that people were wrong to think that this is the case.

These two things aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re both true. They’re intertwined. But you cannot say that Bucky Barnes isn’t at the heart of Steve Rogers’ story. Bucky was the catalyst for every single one of Steve’s movies. He becomes CA because of Bucky. He goes against SHIELD because of Bucky. He defies 107 countries and the Sokovia Accords because of Bucky. You take Bucky out of the equation and what do you have? What happens in those films if you take Bucky Barnes out of the equation? Viewing it objectively, and even without shipper goggles on, you simply cannot sit there and claim that Bucky Barnes isn't a defining component to Steve’s story. Steve Rogers is motivated by Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers is motivated by the depth of their relationship and the fact that Bucky Barnes is one of the few things connecting his new present to his old life.

You can definitely see the fact that Steve is uncomfortable in the modern world. He doesn’t address any of his trauma but he still attempts to move on. However, if they wanted him getting out of the fight and finding life as a civilian to be the natural end to his story arc then there was a way to do it which didn’t require him going back to Peggy. It would have been a better and more satisfying ending if he’d actively chosen to retire because I often see the argument that him going back to Peggy is him finally allowing him to be selfish after shouldering so much over the past decade or more. If Steve chose to retire and put himself first, then that sends a better message. He’s still getting the chance to ‘be selfish’ but he’s not throwing the life he’s built away. At this point in EG, he’s spent a huge portion of his adult life in the modern-day. This isn’t the future for him anymore, it’s the present and he’s lived a life and made real connections with people. The MCU does a piss poor job of showing the interpersonal relationships between the Avengers but he is at least shown to be friends with Sam, Nat, and Bucky.

But he goes back to a delusion. Or an idea of something that was never his in the first place.

When I see people make these videos and share their opinions, I can see their points but it’s like they’re taking EG on its own when that's impossible. Endgame only ‘works’ if you have the context of 10 years’ worth of films. You have to at least be somewhat familiar with the characters, who they are and what they’ve done up until now to be able to make sense of it.

However, in saying that, they wrote and filmed the movie in a way to make you think you didn’t have to take into account anything you’ve seen in the past ten years. If you only watch Endgame, you only see a grieving man mourning the love he never had. You see a man, regretful that he didn’t get to be with woman he loved. So at the end, of course it would make sense that he goes back to her. But you can only do that if you completely divorce Endgame from its ten-year canon and in a franchise like this where they make a big deal about everything being interconnected, it simply doesn’t work. Steve’s story arc in Endgame is incongruous to the narrative arc we’ve been presented in previous films.

Ultimately, Endgame is a movie you’re supposed to watch once and then not think about again. It’s made for that first viewing when everything is shocking and exciting because if you stop to think about it even a little bit, it falls apart under scrutiny.

Finally, I think that the downfall of a lot of these ‘Steve’s ending makes sense’ posts is that made by people who are most certainly MCU fans but not Steve Rogers fans and it shows.

#in this essay i will #endgame wank #anti endgame #for the filters #steve rogers #my writing #because this i didn't spend my afternoon on this for nothing #marvel #stevie #angelblue007

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