LN4 - “Formula One Sucks”
Summary: A grumpy reader meets her match.
Parings : Lando Norris x Female Reader
Warnings: none except swearing - fluff and silliness!
PART 1 PART 2 PART 3
Masterlist
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“I think just don’t give a shit about it!”
“That’s because you’re a boring cow!”
Y/N sat crossed legged on the grass outside her tent, sun beating down on her face as she half heartedly sipped on a capri sun. Spending the night lying on the floor had left her aching and exhausted, and she feared spending the day watching ‘cars go round in circles’ would truly tip her over the edge.
“I just don’t get why I had to come.” Y/N groaned. “You know loads of other people.”
“None of whom were free at short notice on a Sunday!” Y/N’s friend Annie exclaimed.
Y/N groaned dramatically. She was already hating the fact that she was going to be spending the day trying to shelter from the heat whilst pushing her way through crowds of obsessive fans.
“It’s the three things I hate the most - cars, people and outside.”
“Oh shush, you had to come because you’re such a joyous, positive influence in my life who I knew would jump at the opportunity!” Annie said, sarcastically. “Now stop being so bloody miserable.”
Y/N scowled and playfully swatted Annie on the leg.
“You’re a bitch, you know that?”
“I know. Now drink your capri sun and cheer the fuck up.”
—————————————————————-
By 12pm Y/N had not, in fact, cheered the fuck up. She was truly finished with the world of formula one. So far she had queued for the loo, listened to some very loud music and spent an extortionate amount of money on a relatively small (and cold) hot dog.
Annie had long disappeared, claiming to have spotted some guy called ‘Fernando’ before rushing off into the crowd with a squeal, promising to meet Y/N at their seats later on.
It was beginning to get all too much for little Y/N L/N (😉) as she made her way throughout the bustle of people, eager to finally find someplace quiet to eat.
Eventually she found herself going through a set of doors (which definitely did not say staff only) as she found herself a quiet corner.
“Perfect.”
Before she could even take a bite, she heard a cough from behind her.
“Ermmm, what are you doing?”
Turning around, Y/N found herself faced with a relatively young man, wearing an orange cap with curls of brown peeking out the bottom. He looked strangely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t put her finger on it, and quite frankly she was too hangry to care.
“I’m eating my hot dog.”
The man smirked and let out a small laugh.
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Y/N shrugged and said “ask stupid questions, get stupid answers” before taking a bite.
The man raised an eyebrow slightly, intrigued by the passive aggressive woman in front of him, who seemingly didn’t know who he was.
“Are you here for the race? Or do you work here?” He questioned.
“I’m here for the race. Are you?”
The curly haired man smirked slightly, letting out a little laugh.
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”
Y/N crammed another bite of hot dog into her mouth “Well, enjoy. It’s all a load of crap if you ask me though.”
A look of intrigue on his face, he asked “what makes you say that?”
“It’s just boring!” Y/N exclaimed. “Car goes zoom, someone wins, hurrah - so bloody what?! What’s the point?”
The man looked back at her, a look of mild bewilderment and irration written across his face.
“Well yeah, the car is one aspect of it, sure. But it’s the drivers that bring that passion, that excitement every week. They’re the ones who shake things up and keep things fresh. They’re the ones who make it worth watching.” The man let out a small cough. “I mean, that’s my opinion anyway.”
“Hmm. So which driver should I look out for today then?” Y/N queried.
The curly haired man shot her a questionable look.
“Don’t you know the names of any of the drivers?”
Y/N shrugged “I know Lewis Hamilton.”
He let out a laugh and another smirk again “well, that’s a start I suppose.”
Y/N was getting sick of this man smirking at her. But then again, it was a very nice smirk. And he did seem like a very nice man.
“So, what are you doing here if you hate formula one?” The man queried, arms folded against his chest.
“My friend’s a big fan, and her boyfriend who was was meant to be coming has got the flu.” Y/N sighed. “As much as I hate being here, I’d feel even shitter if she came on her own.”
The man let out a small smile “Well, that’s nice of you to do that for your friend.”
He suddenly glanced down at Y/N’s lips, and appeared to take a step closer.
Was this mysterious, attractive stranger about to kiss her?
His thumb reached up to her chin and she couldn’t help but look up into his eyes.
God he had beautiful eyes.
She felt his thumb touch her skin with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes fluttered shut.
He smelt *heavenly*. What aftershave was he wearing?
“Sorry, you had some ketchup on your chin.” He let out a soft giggle.
Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she felt herself return to reality.
“Oh!”
The mystery man let out a giggle as his thumb brushed against her chin - “all gone.”
She laughed. “Thank you. It’s not everyday a stranger wipes ketchup off your face. Did we just get to second base?”
The man let out a laugh (it’s a very nice laugh).
“Sure. I’ll count it if you do.”
An urgent shout sounded from a door behind them.
“I’ve got to go. It was nice chatting to you though.” The man stated. “And to answer your question, look out for Lando Norris today. I’ve heard he’s one to watch!”
“Will do.” Y/N called, still slightly stunned from the interaction.
A few moments passed before a security clad gentlemen rounded the corner.
“Oi, you shouldn’t be back here! Get back out the front!”
“Relax - I’ve finished my hot dog, I’m going!”
———————————————————
The rest of the afternoon was a blur, as Y/N sat close to Annie, eyes fixated on a certain McLaren as he reached his final lap of the race.
“And Lando Norris has finished in P2!”
Cheers erupted from around Y/N and she found herself joining it. Turned out that ‘cars, and people and outside’ could be pretty exciting - who knew?!
“Fuck yeah!” Annie shouted, jumping up and down.
The McLaren driver removed his helmet before waving up to the crowds, a grin plastered on his face.
Y/N’s own grin left her face.
“Oh shit. That’s the guy I met earlier!”
“What?” Annie exclaimed. “You met Lando Norris?”
“Yes! Is he a big deal?” Y/N stated, panic rising.
Annie glanced around them, signalling to the cheering crowds - “Duh! What did you say to him?”
Y/N gulped - “I shoved a hot dog in my mouth and told him formula one is crap.”
Annie stared. No words left her mouth.
Y/N could feel her face turning red. “I then proceeded to ask him if he was going to the race.”
A quick, sharp laugh left Annie’s mouth, before she fell into floods of hysterics.
“Holy shit! What is wrong with you?!”
Y/N could feel herself cringing.
“Oh god, I don’t know! Lots apparently!”
She glanced down to Lando again, to find him smirking up at her. He winked, before turning back towards his team.
“Oh my god, I’m never going outside again.” Y/N cringed. “This is all your fault!”
“My fault?” Annie laughed. “I didn’t tell an F1 driver that his sport is crap!”
Before Y/N could respond, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A uniformed worker pressed a piece of paper into her hand.
“I’ve been asked to give this to you.” The woman smiled, before walking away.
“What is it?” Annie questioned, eyeing the paper.
Y/N unwrapped it, finding quickly scrawled words,
Hello Grumpy,
I hope the race was enough to change your mind about formula one. Here’s my number if you ever fancy a hot dog or a debate over ‘cars going zoom’.
LN xx
“What. The. Fuck.” Annie’s eyes widened.
Y/N grinned.
“Maybe I do like F1 after all!”
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COD Incorrect Quotes
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Y/N: *Repeatedly fails at putting a straw in their capri sun*
Gaz: Need a hand?
Y/N: No.
Gaz: Are you sure-
Y/N: *Violently bites into it, capri sun spraying everywhere, slurping at it like a feral creature*
Alex, walking in: What... The...?
Gaz: ....
Roach: ....
Alex, backing out: Nope...
Ghost, proudly: They learned that from me.
Soap: Why am I not surprised...?
Price: .... There's capri sun everywhere.
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Y/N: Am I in trouble?
Laswell: Have a guess.
Y/N: No?
Laswell: Have another guess.
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Y/N: Guys, I have a plan.
Farah: The four words society fears most.
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Y/N: When I die donate my whole body to science.
Price: ....
Y/N: Except my middle finger. Give that to Makarov.
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Alejandro: I can't find my wallet.
Valeria: I can't find my necklace.
Rudy: I can't find my belt.
Y/N, sipping coffee still in their pajamas: I can't find my will to live.
-
Graves, holding a gift box: You promise you didn't get me bees again?
Y/N, standing at a distance: Just open it.
-
{More Content}
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"I want to be a professional ballerina," my best friend said. She was five, and her mother a former beauty queen from New York.
"I want to be a soccer player," I said. I was five, and already I knew that I was not made from beauty queen pieces.
It is not that I wanted to play soccer. I did not, especially. It is what soccer meant.
If I had two choices, between soccer and waxen sculptures, rigid lines, soft pastels, and practicing the dance so I would not "thump like elephants down the stairs," I did not want the latter.
Soccer meant mud. It meant running. It meant pads I strapped to my shins and fighting with boys and wearing pants.
"Soccer," I said, even though what I felt was "I want to wear pants."
I did not see the grit in ballet, nor the ferocity. But I feared its femininity, so like the lockbox of everything else around me. I feared the quietude, the script of dainty nonsense, the sitting with my legs together for hours on Sundays while the boys rampaged in the side yard, tasting honey sweet sun in the mud they kicked up. I feared suffocation, and soccer was an hour of freedom, when I could sit on the ground, pick at grass, run or not run, drink the sky through small sips like I'd punched a hole into a Capri Sun pouch. I was not good at soccer, but I was good at being at soccer practice.
Once, watching my brother tumble down a hill, I turned to my mother and said, "I wish I was a boy."
And she said, "Don't say that."
So I didn't.
But what I'd really meant was, "I wish I had not been born in a cage."
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Part One
Part Two
Izuku sat there, awkwardly drinking a Capri Sun, as he listened to his mentor explain the baby situation to the Mini Boss.
He was fairly confident that he could break up a physical altercation, if pressed. The problem there being that he wasn't entirely sure which of the two adults would be in more danger in that scenario. All Might-- Toshinori-- was stronger and possibly faster... But only if he knew the attack was coming. Rian could grab a knife and cut someone's throat without even being in the same room.
And admittedly, the emerald eyed teen observed, Rian looked VERY throat slit-y right now. His face was hidden by his hands as he rubbed his forehead, and every line of his body was tense. It also looked dangerously like the air was starting to warp around his personal space.
~
"You're telling me..." The brunette started, voice uncharacteristically deep and even. "That you, without my consent, had part of my old reproductive organs saved. And you let Midnight-- fucking Midnight-- and Nighteye convince you to... To run experiments? On my body parts? In a lab?"
The older man sat directly across the table, perfectly calm, hands folded on the table in front of him, not showing an ounce of the regret, weakness, or fear that the teen had seen earlier that day. "Yes."
"And did it just never occur to you that I might find that... Y'know, a little jarring? A little bit of a PTSD trigger? A little bit fucking scary?"
"The pros outweighed the cons, and in my opinion they still do. I knew you'd be upset. I knew this would be hard... But I also know how badly you wished we could have children, Ri," he said. The brunette was silent, and All Might seemed to take that as an indication to continue. "You'd looked so broken whenever the topic came up. I'm not the kind of man who can sit by and let a problem fester, Rian, you know that."
Izuku took another sip, glancing between the two. All Might was still surprisingly calm, even as the distortions around the other adult seemed to thicken. Part of him wanted to chime in and talk about Hinata and what he'd seen at the lab, but... Bad idea.
"...I genuinely cannot believe you right now. And you told Izuku before you told me? ........ Slight offense intended, Izuku."
"That's fair."
"Look Kitten... I know. I'm a selfish prick. You were aware of that since the beginning," the older man said, letting out a chuckle. "The kid came so I could have a bit of practice talking about it, and because I wanted to test his resolve before I handed over One For All."
"Toshinori this isn't some kind of--"
"A joke? No. It certainly isn't. I'm dead serious, just like you."
"... You're going to take me there. Right now."
The blonde cracked a smile. "I was hoping you'd say that. Let's go."
That was Izuku's cue. He pulled out his phone with a picture of the location of the lab, holding it up to Rian. Using that, he could open a gateway to get them there in seconds. The younger adult's eyes were red as he looked up, studying the photo, then stood.
"You wait here, kid," Toshinori said, clapping the green haired youth on the shoulder as they both left.
"... Well on the bright side, at least one of them will come back."
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A Gift for Spiders-Man
On infinite earths, in infinite universes, it still surprises “him” when—cast adrift during some interdimensional battleworld event—“he” finds this one.
The first time “he” bursts into spiders to traverse a wall and save a citizen from a mugging, she doesn’t scream, not at “him.” Not when “he” webs up the crook. The mugger bursting into flies—that’s new, and exciting to parts of “him” that the Parker memory doesn’t like to think about.
But the victim doesn’t run even when “he” swarms back to “himself” after—after the meal.
“I just killed someone,” “he” says. He’s staring at the jittery stacks of arachnids that make up his hands.
“He was already dead,” the mugging victim says. “I wouldn’t choose flies, but I guess—it’s not always a choice. I guess they found him.”
And that’s a trip, a real trip, and results in fumbling “his” mask-spiders. She doesn’t seem to recognize Peter Parker, and that’s good. The two (two-and-many?) of them tuck themselves away in a little cafe where she orders a coffee and “he” gets some kind of pouch full of fluid—Peter Parker won’t think about it, but it’s really good in a way most food isn’t anymore, since the—loss? Takeover? It’s like a weird Capri Sun, and that makes him a little homesick, or nostalgic. “He” mostly can’t eat anymore because “his”—bodies—can’t eat the way “his”—mind—wants to, but this seems to be tailor-made for “him.” Them.
Her name is Nita and her father is a nest of carpenter ants.
Out of providence (or, or maybe this is all a self-delusion but he/they’ll let it last as long as he/they can)—it’s actually typical for people here to give their dying or dead bodies to insects, and for those insects to carry forward the consciousness of their... victims? Donations?
“Sometimes they use it as an opportunity to tidy up their loose ends, and say their goodbyes,” Nita says. “Butterflies of whatever kind are popular for that. Let them sip up the blood and three weeks later you’re dissipating for good. Some people—my dad—know what they want with their life and want to keep doing it.” Nita tilts her hand back and forth. “I’ve never put much thought into it, me. Maybe I’ll lay down in a milkweed field and go with the monarchs. I always wanted to see Mexico.”
She tilts her head. “Why’d you go with spiders? And—are the heroics your last hurrah, or your path forward?”
And that is a conversation for a few more coffees, and pouches. What comes out is a tangled web of narrative, and guilt, and loss and despair at his home dimension.
He/they’re used to people staring. He/they’re used to fear, disgust, and pity from Peter Parker’s loved ones. This is like—this is like when he overheard a guy admit to someone in sophomore year that he didn’t have his own bed, his own stuff, until he escaped to the dorms. How a pillow he chose, as many blankets as he wanted, were better than he ever imagined. And Peter took it for granted, until he heard that. And now he has a body that no longer sleeps that way at all.
Nita’s face says she was taking this weird afterlife for granted. And she—she actually rests her hand, gently, on the carapaces and seething shapes that “Peter” has shaped like hands.
“Hey,” she says. “You can stay here. I imagine going back might be the hard part. You can stay here, and—my dad and I can help you with a memorial for Peter Parker, if you like. And you can dissipate, or you can keep saving people’s purses. But that’ll be your choice, in a place where either choice is valid.”
He/they aren’t sure whether the other heroes involved in the latest battleworld fiasco make it home, and for a little while, they don’t care.
Gwen Stacy is dead here, too, but her dragonflies have kept on going; she’s an engineer with a focus on structural safety. Her bugs get along with the spiders well enough.
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Hello there! May I request an accidental kiss between two exes with dialogue from the “slow burn” prompt of “I don’t love you” “good” (but it’s clear they still do) with Eddie Kingston ?
Yes, of course. <3 I love this trope. ;_; I'm not super confident in my ability to write angst SO I hope this is alright! Please enjoy.
Pairing: Eddie Kingston x OFC.
Prompt: Accidental kiss + “I don’t love you.” “Good.”
Rating: T.
Warnings/Content: Angst.
Word Count: 1451.
Tag List (ask to be added/removed): @alyhull @boutmachines @simoneinside @sillynilly27 @vtriggerbucks
(I don’t own gif; all credit to orange-catsidy!)
It’s better this way. That’s what she had told him, heart and gut twisted up. Tears in her eyes like dewdrops on leaves as she looked at him and he looked at her, those pretty eyes of his just as broken and angry but mostly confused. Eddie didn’t mince words but all he could do as she undid the stitches of their brokenness, why they had fallen together so damn well in the first place, was nod. Head bowed. Jaw tight. There wasn’t enough to say or maybe there was too much and all he could do was go in silence.
It hadn’t felt real but she had done it and there wasn’t any going back. As the days went by and the space beside her lost the shape of him, she felt numb. It didn’t go unnoticed. Red brought her one of her favorite cakes. Kris offered comfort in the form of nose boops and long hugs. Orange offered her a Capri-Sun.
Brandi was more forthright. Given that she was the first person that knew that her and Eddie were together, she had that right to be. An invitation into the other woman’s office set her on edge but she went and Brandi was all smiles. She offered her a glass of wine then sat back in her chair, her calm eyes on the melancholic woman across from her.
“Are you okay?” Just as she was about to answer, Brandi raised her hand. “And don’t bullshit me. Please. Are you alright?”
Her half-assed answer of yes, of course, died on her tongue and she stared at the ground.
“No,” she said. “I’m not, Brandi. But I will be, okay? You don’t need to be worried about me. It’s just a breakup.”
Brandi took a long sip and crossed her legs.
“It’s not though, is it?” Her voice softened and she sat up to sit beside her friend. “I obviously don’t know what all happened but the way you and Eddie looked at each other…Listen, Cody and I have been together for a long time and he doesn’t even look at me the way you two look at each other. It’s disgusting.”
Brandi playfully squeezed her shoulder and she forced a smile. Took a sip from her own wine glass.
“I can’t be in love with him, Brandi,” she forced out. “I fell for him too hard and too fast and I can see the ground getting closer to me every time I…think about him and I just can’t go through that. I can’t. It hurts, I hurt, but it had to be done. I got scared and I didn’t want it to eat me up so I just…I let him go. I thought it was the right call.”
“Let me get this right,” Brandi said after a long moment. “You broke it off with Eddie because you…love him too much?”
“Yes.”
The single word broke something in her and clogged her throat, tears running down her face in rivers she had tried to hold back but the dams were gone. He was a good thing, impossibly good, and that ugly fear in her was afraid of ruining the good things. Brandi set her wine glass down and brought her friend to her chest. Stroked her hair and whispered comforts to her.
“I get it,” Brandi said. “It’s scary being in love. Especially that in love. If you…If you feel that you made the right decision, then I support you. Just promise you’ll take care of yourself, alright?”
“I will. It’s just…It’s going to take time.”
“I know, honey. I know.”
—
Time went, months of it, but she still got that flutter in her chest when she saw him. Heard his laugh, his energy a shockwave that her body responded to. Her heart. With time, she walked more confidently. Didn’t carry the bad nights as long as she used to. She still hurt but it was a bruise instead of a cut. An ache that she was grateful for and prodded with warm memories when she wanted. The echo of his laugh just beyond the guerrilla pulled a smile from her. He seemed to be doing well now that Moxley was back.
“Earth to mothership, we got a smile.”
“Very funny,” she huffed at Kris, who simply grinned back at her. “I’m not sure if I’ll be smiling after this one, Stat.”
She rotated her wrists and glanced at the stairs that led to the tunnels. It was arguably one of the most important matches of her career. A tag-team match with Kris against the champion herself and Jamie Hayter. Every nervous spike in her heart was quieted by the unmissable sound of Eddie just beyond the black curtains. Kris took her hand and squeezed it just as their music hit.
“Let’s kick earthling ass.”
“You know I’m an earthling, right?”
“Yes but you’re a special earthling.”
The rush of the curtain being pulled startled her and then there was Eddie, bright eyes on her. His sad smile ricocheted off the soft parts of her heart and she stumbled. Moxley lifted his brows, surprised at the sudden motion, and tried his best to busy himself doing anything else.
“She is,” Eddie said as he held her gaze. Then he shifted to look at Kris. “Take care of her out there, huh?”
Kris gave an enthusiastic nod before she dragged her up the stairs and to their match. It was hard to focus on anything. It was the first time Eddie had spoken to her since she called things off and her heart raced before the bell even rang. She just had to get through the match.
Britt’s stomps rattled her already muddled brain and when the Lockjaw was applied, there wasn’t a thing she could do. The rest of the night was spent with Doc Sampson checking her over and once he was satisfied that she was clear to leave, she limped towards her dressing room. She turned the handle and barely had time to react when it swung open, a shape heading fast in her direction.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
“Eddie?”
To keep her from falling, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her near. But it wasn’t enough to keep her on balance. With his head ducked and hers back in surprise, their lips connected in a kiss of shock as she stumbled forward. Their lips, unsure of what to do, shifted against one another as though trying to repeat a song from memory and both nearly fell under the siren song. Until he stepped back from her. He rubbed at his head before he set his hands on top of it. She stared at him, breath ragged and her head throbbing.
“Eddie, what are you doing here?”
“Your match,” he started. “I saw the shit that went down with the good doctor and I wanted to check on you. I wanted to check on you and I wanted to be here when you got back because that shit looked real bad and I was worried. I was worried about you.”
Too choked with emotion to respond, she tried to move by him but his hand was around her wrist and she was caught in that gaze of his. That feeling, that draw of him and his hands so gentle on her, made her want to settle against him. Rest her head on his chest and let the night slip away. But she couldn’t.
“Eddie, I appreciate you…You checking on me but I’m okay. Really.”
“Really? You’re alright?”
His thumb traced the inside of her palm. He wasn’t asking about the match.
“I…”
She hesitated.
“When you said it’s better this way, did you mean for me or for you?”
His brow raised with his question, his rough voice low and soft in a way that made her want to cry.
“I c–don’t love you, Eddie. And I'm o-okay.”
Something in her broke at the lie and Eddie must have felt it in her trembling arm. His soothing touch dropped away from her and she suddenly felt cold. Then he kissed her forehead and lingered like a goodbye in reprise.
“Good. That’s, uh, good. All I needed to hear. I'll get out of your hair.”
The confusion-addled acceptance didn’t feel how she thought it would and she wanted to take his face in her hands, feel the burn of his beard across her skin like a safe-haven bonfire. He smoothed her hair back before he stepped away and through the door, hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. Already distant just a couple feet away.
“Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”
“...You too, Eddie.”
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It’s The Avengers (03x16)
Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)
Season 3 Episode 16: You Picked the Wrong Weakness
Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.
Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?
Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.
MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)
The Interview Room
The camera is recording empty seats as a pair of voices grow louder with every second.
"...it's like they don't even care about what the other person wants!"
"...no, why would they. These rich daddies and their rich egos think they are the only ones thinking about the world."
The camera swivels a bit to watch Peter and Scott enter with a new guest following them with a Caprisun in their hand.
Peter: And why did you have to go ahead and help them?
Shuri: *sits between Scott and Peter* *takes a long sip of her 'sun* What. I'm not going to give up any opportunity that involves space and weird energy boxes.
Peter: Why did your brother even agree to it??
Shuri: *shrugs* all your sugar daddy had to say was 'what if it was Shuri'. And my thicc-head of a brother lost it like a rhino in a mating challenge.
Peter: *scrunches his nose at the example*
Scott: Great *sigh* now we'll never get to see them together. With your brains, those dads are probably already in space now.
Shuri: Not so fast! They don't have the codes to neutralise the pandora's box yet.
Peter and Scott: *look at each other*
Shuri: So teleportation might be delayed as long as I am kept happy?
Peter: *takes out a notebook*
Scott: *takes out his phone and a card labelled Avengers Black Card*
The camera pans in on a smirking Shuri sipping on her Capri sun.
Inside a Spaceship: Destination Unknown
You and Loki were captured by the little drone flying at the same speed as the spaceship (which clearly had seen some remodelling, thanks to your rainbow buddies). Both of you were staring at something in front of you that lids by your waist level- something the outside drone was not able to capture because of the limited view in the spaceship window.
The expressions on your face were serious. So was the arms-crossed stance.
"Are you sure it wasn't just a noise?"
Loki now had a finger on his lips in deep thought as he heard your words. "I am pretty sure of what I heard," he acknowledged without missing a beat.
"So-" your voice faded as your fingers twirled in the air with a mind of their own- "that means he has...another..."
"You really can't say it?" Loki looked at you with a questioning brow going up quite smoothly.
You tsked. "It's my baby," you mentioned while Javier's camera watched you point down at slumbering Lulu. "I cannot just casually say he might have another hole and I think he farted through it. I cannot hurt my baby's feelings!"
Loki scoffed. "Your baby's sleeping."
"He still has ears."
"You think he understands what a fart means?"
"What do you think I've been teaching him when you, me or Javi pass the gas?"
Loki's casual demeanour suddenly changed to an offended one. "I beg your pardon?"
You were quick on your feet, already walking towards the front of the ship. "So, where exactly are we heading now? Aellae's next of kin? Though I find it hard to imagine she would have left your essence with anyone other than herself."
Loki came and sat next to you, still pissed at that comment in those narrowed eyes. "I am going to circle back to your words-" he inhaled while you acted all innocent- "and no. We are not looking for anyone related to that witch."
"Then are we looking for another one of your exes?"
"No, we are n-" Loki stopped short, his lips right in a thin line as he stared at you. "Why are you so interested my exes?"
You simply shrugged and raised your brows. "On the contrary, it seems your exes are still pretty interested in you." That casual expression turned into a familiar judgment as your head turned to look at him. "Though I wonder what did they find so-" you hands moved haphazardly- "interesting about you."
Loki swivelled his captain seat towards you, locking your legs between his while grounding your armrests with his hands. Clicking the control button on your armrest, he moved your chair a bit closer to him, his face in close proximity to yours. Javier's camera panned in on the gulp moving down your throat while your eyelids did a flutter at this uncalled movement. The 4K caught those goosebumps rising right where his arm barely grazed yours and in the background, Lulu played an arousing violin piece.
"Something you can only dream about, darling," he whispered.
The violin picked up the charge in the air within its quick clean high notes.
The only noise leaving you was the escape of the air stuck in your throat, shivering on its way out.
"Of c-" you cleared your throat. trying to sit back up in your seat- "of course I can only fantasize. The reality makes me want to puck. Ugh!"
Loki: Y/N thinks space is all fun and games. What she does not realise is that just like earth, this universe too has an underworld. Ten times in size and twenty times as brutal. And Aellae was just the tip of the filthy iceberg. *camera zooms in on his tensed features*
looks into the distance* Wonder who else she told about her. *looks back* *blinks* I'm taking her somewhere we can lie low for now. *rolls eyes* that is if she understands what lying low means. *sighs*
You: *eating bread like a peasant famished for days* Hm? What? No *shakes head* 'm nod nerbous. *takes another bite* debinidly nod becoz o doki. He wash jus playing wee me. *viciously bites into the bread* *growls and buries head in your lap*
"I am still telling you to ask for their help. It's not too late," you suggested in a composed manner, sitting in the co-pilot seat.
"I am not calling seven alien boys just because you have a fetish for Korean pop bands."
You thwacked his leg with yours. "I do not! And don't you dare talk shit about k-pop."
Loki chuckled. "Why? What are going to do?"
"I won't. But you know what k-pop fans are like, don't you?"
The smile on Loki's face suddenly started to flicker away as he looked at the camera. "Remember that Vegas trip?"
Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself on his seat, while you shared a devilish smirk with the camera.
"We're going somewhere safe. Where I have a chance of getting my powers back and hopefully a gateway back to earth."
You sat up. "Why didn't we go there in the first place?"
Loki blinked, not really answering. You and the camera noticed the tension in his jaw.
"It's not a place I like to talk about."
The asteroid belt cleared in front of the spaceship to show the part of a planet covered in grey clouds shadowing frozen blue mountains and dark valleys.
"Jotunheim," you whispered to yourself, letting the gloomy yet majestic scenery of the place reflect in your eyes.
“Loki,” all humour in your voice seemed to dilute as you looked back at home, “we don’t have to go there. We-uh...we could go to one of Peter’s hideouts? Or maybe we could call the Boys and ask them to direct us to one of their safe places? You know, till we find a lead on your essence.”
A smirk built upon the God's lips. "Is that concern I hear in your voice?"
Those worry-laden brows suddenly dispersed all emotion to make way for anger.
A slap made way from your hand to his right side of the back. The thwack was loud enough to wake Lulu and force a sincere 'ow' from the God's throat. "This concern is for me and my babies you awful animal," you growled, your voice considerably higher, "you think they'll survive there?"
Jotunheim
If the mountains seemed to carry an eerie aura about them, the valleys were a straight suggestion of being pits straight to hell. To add to the effects of arriving at the gates of hell, the snow falling was harsh, to say the least. As soon as the door to the ship opened to let all the passengers feel the heat, the drone travelling outside took in travellers covered in thick fur.
Javier carried Lulu on his front, both of them visible just with their faces- not to mention the former's blue eyes standing out over everything else in his surroundings. Loki too embraced the thick skin, looking quite the part of a Jotun till he picked up the hood of your coat to put it over your head without saying much; only smiling when you looked like a fluffed up birb in that Viking overcoat.
Loki: *smiling sheepishly**looks at you standing next to him* Angry birb *looks back at Javier's camera* Sam taught me that one.
*camera pans at you simmering under that fur*
Lulu had already picked the background music for his pack's entrance. The Viking beat had just the right amount of weight and horror of the unknown in it as this place did.
Just ahead of the pass lay the structure carved in the mountain itself. It could be called a palace or a temple. But that was not what sought your attention.
Eyes.
The camera caught eyes in the dark staring at the unwanted guests. Blue. Piercing. Murderous. And more than one pair.
The drone panned in on that one subconscious movement of your fingers gripping the fur of the coat on Loki's back as the God walked gallantly- as if he owned the planet. But your eyes did not stop to observe the alien movement around you.
"Remember-" Loki's whisper brought you out of the daze your own thumping heart was creating for you- "do not show them your fear. Show them that you are to be feared."
It may have been his words or just his voice that started to melt the fear visible on your features, lasting for five seconds before a loud thump vibrated the land beneath your feet, making you all come to a stop.
And when that was not enough, the audience saw the feet first, then the legs and then the whole length of a Jotun appearing before them. Some necks were really going to feel it tonight.
"Who dares enter the land of Jotunheim?" came the thundering and low growl from the Jotun that stood towering over you all.
"The one who is alive and stands on this land," Loki announced, "with the blood of Laufey in my veins, I have come to claim what is mine."
There was nothing but an uninviting smirk on the Jotun's face.
"I am Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, ruler of Asgard and your King," he commanded with ice in his voice, "and you...need to bow...before your King."
The dead silence proceeding his threat of a speech was enough for you nearly bury you inside your own overcoat. And when that did not seem enough, your body- on its own- moved a step closer to Loki's side.
"Oooooh Gooood," you whispered with quite the shudder while your face was plastered with a no-fucks-given wave, "we're gonna die."
On the contrary, the silence was followed by many Jotuns coming out of the shadows to surround your group one by one before bowing down. Even the ones who looked quite young did the same. All of them except for the one Jotun who had greeted you first.
"Allir fagna konungi!" they chanted in unison.
"All hail the king," Javier translated it for you.
"Didn't know you were into Nords," you quipped, "the language, I mean."
"Honey, I am all into Nords," he signed before looking around with a smile, finding a buff Jotun that caught his eye. He did not take another second to blink at him and leave that giant a bit confused and flustered at the same time.
Inside the Palace
The throne was sculpted out of ice that seemed as old as the mountain. Alongside it had been made seating arrangements for the family, running parallel till the doors of the throne room, all greyish blue stones marked with Jotun carvings. You and Javier believed they might be names of dignitaries. Lulu thought they are just doodles by other babies and proceeded to contribute to the stone they were standing next to. A little female giant sat down and looked at Lulu's doodles with curious wide eyes.
Loki stood rightfully in front of his throne, admiring it before turning to his subjects, most of them adults who were exceptionally taller and blue-er than him.
The drone captured the magnificence of the throne room that had fire pits next to the seats at intervals right alongside the stone pillars and right in the middle, a few feet in front of the king. But none of them were lit. And the giants were visibly annoyed by the drone while the kids wanted to catch it and play with it.
"An Asgardian announces himself as our King," the one giant growled as he stood at the steps of the throne, "why would we believe you to be our King, son of Odin." He nearly spat the last part.
The drone captured that bit of concern breaking out on your composed features but Loki just smirked.
Pulling his overcoat to the side- as magnificently as he believed himself to be- he sat down as if he has done it ever since he was born. The authority exuding from his presence certainly put the murmurs going around the hall to a standstill.
"At ease, Helblindi," he stressed to the giant with a purr and directed the rest of the audience to take their place.
"Not you."
Everyone stopped short to looked at their king.
And he was clearly looking at you.
You pointed a finger at yourself in question.
"Don't you know your place....pet?" he commanded ever so slyly, discreetly pointing his finger at the stone next to his throne.
You: *look around to make sure no one's looking at you* *anger about to explode through your eyes* *whispering* Pet?? PET?? I swear gonna just *gestures to grab the air* grab his throat and *punches the said air repeatedly in her palm*
*camera pans out to focus on three baby giants looking at you in pure horror before their mother carries them away murmuring something*
*camera swivels to show Javier looking disappointed*
Javier: *signs* she said 'stay away from the crazy human'. *sighs* *shakes his head*
“Come-“ Loki’s fingers gestured at you to come over to that stone couch of a thing next to him- “sit.”
Taking a breath to compose your usual embers of rage at that comment, you smiled and walked up the stairs to stand next to him.
The camera recorded the little gracious bow you gave the God but not before your back was to the spectators and you signalled an insult with your middle towards him, nearly making him chuckle. And with one heavy inhale, you sat down next to him, clearly not at the same level as him.
“Is this what Lulu feels like?”
“I would’ve made Lulu sit in my lap,” Loki acknowledged with a smirk. “You’re welcome to join me anytime but for now-“ he adjusted himself on his seat and raised his voice to address the court- “let us have a feast tonight and raise our mugs in union of the Jotun king and his subjects.”
Helblindi scoffed and spat on the floor. Loki did not look but he was surely observing his every move. “In union of an excuse of a giant who does not even resemble-“
“I would like you to stop there my brother-“ Loki announced as he got up, letting the whole room take one united gasp at the scene- “before you start regretting your own words.”
You blinked at the reactions to turn and look at Loki.
Now the lights from the ceiling did a stupendous job of catching the widening of your eyes while your pupils were dilated in an emotion only known to you when you witnessed- for the first time in your life- Loki's skin change its shade and features.
The flawless paleness gave way to a blue so deep over those arms he rarely displayed in public. The colour ran up his neck as well, covering him all the way. And along with this shade came ridges on his skin which apparently every Jotun had; running up his face and down his limbs.
Those smaragdines and whites around them were now replaced with red.
“This Jotun-“ his voice was low, but with enough weight that it echoed to the last corner of the room- “has seen enough lives to know what is hatred and what is fear. So next time you try to question my right, Helblindi, know that I have no qualms in exploiting them in a way which seems necessary for me.”
Helbindi did not seem to stand his ground much now. Not after a few Jotuns who stood up to speak against the giant who had been torturing them for a while with his reckless and greed-ridden laws.
Javier's camera was stuck on your reaction in the middle of this mild chaos. Your parted lips, wide eyes, stare lingering all over the God's body, your throat feeling the urge to swallow the dryness; it really was a sight, an emotion that many fanfiction artists would want to take inspiration from.
Loki- who was smirking at the warm welcome he was receiving through the roar against his brother- turned around to look at you. His smirk disappeared and his usually focused gaze was interrupted with those unsure blinks at your features.
Before he could explain himself, one giantess blocked his way to you with a bow. "We have prepared the Bath for you and your companions, your grace," she announced, still with her head held low.
His gaze was running between you and her. To make it easier for him, you got up from your seat and walked down to the giantess who wanted to show you, Javier and Lulu to the Bath.
"Nandi," Loki finally looked at the giantess.
"Yes, your grace."
"I need you to choose four of your most loyal companions to guard them."
"They are all ready to escort your companions where you please."
Loki smiled at Nandi.
"I owe it to your mother to protect you, your Grace, like she protected me and my children."
"My mother had a loyal friend in you," the God appreciated before walking down the throne and away from the crowd.
The drone followed him.
The graceful composure of the God crumbled like a dry sand castle as soon as the doors closed behind him and he was alone in the icy corridors. His pace got faster by the second, his eyes searching everywhere.
"This isn't fair, you know."
Loki stopped at the echo of your voice. The pause of one breath, and he knew where to turn to find you standing in the shadows.
Javier stood by the pillar next to you two with his camera, capturing this strange tick on Loki's features.
You stepped out of the shadows, your gaze uninterrupted, looking right at those red eyes. "Do you know the amount of chaos it would create on earth if people knew that you look like..."
"Like what? A monster?" Loki's voice was heavy.
"Nah don't say i-dammit! Now I cannot stop imagining the term monsterfuckers."
Loki blinked. His brows furrowed at you ever so slightly.
"I mean-" you sighed with frustration- "was it not enough that you looked like a literal God in a human form that you had to now go and reveal that you are one buffed up alien? Look at you? You are one breath away from starting a cult of monsterfuckers! Do you realise that? Look at-" you grabbed that one barely naked blue arm and tried to squeeze it- "this firm, cold, arm that is people are going think about in-" you tried to breathe, your gaze still stuck on his shoulder- "their bed at night. God, why do have to be so-" you pointed at all of him with a frustration-filled, longing look of...disgust- "you."
By now Loki was raising his brows in question and shifting his gaze between himself and you, clearly confused by your reaction. It even seemed he was a bit flustered at one point.
You winced, looking at his body again. Your eyes followed the ridges on his face to his neck, plunging down his v neck t-shirt. With a frown you turned hastily, flinging your body involuntarily in the direction of the bath. "I bet they go all the way down," you whispered to yourself in between your sobs and walked away.
Loki: *still stands there* *blinks* *looks at the camera* what...*looks in her direction* *looks back* *does this two more times* what just happened?
The Resting Chambers: Next Day
One of Javier's drones followed you from the balcony you were standing in to witness the first light of the nearest star in this frozen land. The snow-clad mountains were a majestic sight in their own stature. Even the smile emanating under the warmth of the star could not deny that.
The giggles coming from inside the room broke the sweet hum of sync you were having with the weather, walking back in to find Skandi and Kolga, Nandi's daughters setting up the table with Jotunheim's specialities- snowberries, Kruweed- fresh seaweed from the frozen lake- and Lulu's favourite, spiked abalones.
"What are you girls snickering about?"
Lulu was already jumping on the table to sniff everything placed for his liking. Once he had inspected every single item, he went over to his bowl of abalones.
"Nothing," Skandi cooed, "just discussing how Loki-" Kolga elbowed her sister to correct herself- "how his Grace, keeps looking at you."
Your hands paused for a fraction of a second near your mouth before the snowberry found its way in your mouth. "Look at me how?"
"He looks at you as if you might vanish any second if he does not keep his eye on you," Kolga added, sitting down next to you. Her face had gentle tones all over it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she talked to you. "Are you being punished for something?"
It took you some time to realise she was genuinely curious.
"What. No. Why would you think that?"
"Because his grace keeps you under guard. I thought pets were kept in cages in Midgard."
Skandi turned to Kolga with a gasp. "He caged her last night then?!"
The camera captured your furrowed brows sitting there confused in between the sisters. You opened your mouth to speak but lost to Kolga.
"You mean when he told off Helbindi that she will be sleeping in his quarters."
Skandi nodded vigorously.
"He could not have kept her in a real cage."
"Maybe he chained her to the bed."
"Ah. So he could keep an eye on her at night."
"Is that what happened, y/n?"
You hid your face behind the mug of tea that did not seem to leave your lips while your free hand seemed to check your cheeks for their temperature.
"This tea is good," your burned throat appreciated the drink.
"He seems quite...what is the word... possessive of her," Skandi commented.
You shared a look with the drone- your face devoid of any emotions.
Kolga hummed in agreement, popping a snowberry in her mouth. "I thought Kruge would die last night by his hands."
Now that seemed to catch your attention.
"Kruge who?"
"Helbindi's guard. The one who nearly pushed you into the wall last night."
"When you went inside," Kolga continued, "his Grace took Kruge's staff and struck him in his limbs and threatened him to never touch you again if he wanted to stay alive."
"Kruge should be glad he did not use his powers on him lest he would be a part of the dark pit's icicles by now."
Kolga and Skandi stopped talked to watch you lost in deep thought while your hands scratched Lulu's back on their own, making the floof purr quite loud.
"Is she making this little creature vibrate?" Skandi asked her sister in a whisper.
"It looks like it," her sister whispered back in awe.
You: *whispering at Javier* What? No, it's okay. We can record here. No one can say anything. *sits on the stone seat in the gallery that seems empty to the camera* *adjusts hair* is it recording? Of course. It's always recording.
*clears throat* *at normal tone* So, clearly...*inhales* *raises brows* things are barely standing still right now. And it is clearly not helping that Loki is having sudden urges to pick a fight with whoever bullies me.
*Javier's drone catches him discreetly signing at you to lower your voice a bit*
You: *irritated* I mean does he want me to get bullied more? Bullies are always going to pick on the weak one in the group for fuck's sake! And evidently, I am the weaker sex.
*the camera catches a movement behind you, turning to focus on the source*
You: and his highness does not seem to realise that it will be too easy for these giants to torture his weaknesses out of me. Does he not see that? *squints at Javier* what?
The drone is recording Javier aggressively telling you to cut it out while looking pale as his gaze goes far behind you.
You turn to look where his gaze is going.
Javier's camera automatically focuses on Kruge standing next to the last pillar, throwing daggers in your direction through his bloody eyes for a moment before disappearing somewhere.
You: *turn around with a shade lighter yourself* *the camera is panning over your face now as you look at it* *whispers* Fuck!
Five Minutes Later
One of the drones buzzed against the ice that separated the balcony and the bedroom, tapping itself repeatedly on the transparent frost till the door to the room opened. It turned around to record you and Javier rush inside- the latter placing his camera in his bag and packing his stuff.
"Okay, relax, relax!" you stressed to the hyperventilating boy.
"We need to get out of here," he signed.
"Javi, take three deep breaths? Yes? One? Two? Good. Three. Now think about it. As long as we are with Loki, no one will dare harm us. Okay? Not to mention he has allotted us our personal security team."
Javier was on the verge of sobbing. "What about when Loki is not around. What will we do then?"
"Javi, don't think like that," you nearly fumed at him. "Loki is in the throne room right now. You take the guards with you and go to him and when you find a window let him know what happened, okay?"
Javier was still taking deep breaths while sweating through his fur coat. He nodded.
"What about you?"
"I...have Lulu." You pointed at the floof sleeping with his belly bared and his paws out. "I won't leave the room, don't worry."
Once convinced you'll be fine, Javier hurried outside, leaving you in a silence only filled by light snores of your baby.
The drone recorded you biting your lip and tying your hair up in a bun. "Okay," you whispered to yourself, "now we wait."
It also recorded the sudden change in the shade of one section of the wall opposite to your back. With the focus still on you, the section of the wall appeared to open out, revealing the pitch blackness lit by a pair of red eyes.
The next thing you knew, the drone was lying on the floor, its barely working lens recording your muffled screams and boots struggling to find the ground as a pair of blue feet walked past the lens before it went black.
One Hour Later
The camera sat on the stone seat, recording the periodic tapping of Javier's foot from outside the frame. Loki still had audience. The Jotuns discussed every aspect of Jotunheim with the king.
Loki sat patiently, listening to every word before advising them necessary steps. The majority was satisfied with the King's suggestions. Many were even in awe. There were a few who were dissatisfied no matter what the God mentioned.
"Well-" Loki sat straight, addressing the whole court- "this concludes our day then."
"Your grace," one giant bowed at the steps, "there are a few more issues that need your kind attention."
Loki sighed, his hand resting on the armrest, his fingers running over his lips in thought.
Not sure about Loki, but the camera recorded the patient that ran out of Javier. He got up from his seat, immediately catching the God's eye, who was quick to raise his fingers just for the boy to stop taking any further steps towards him.
"You have stalled me enough," the God acknowledged, catching the giant off guard. "Helbindi should know it better than anyone that a coup against me would be a futile attempt."
Loki did not budge where he sat, just his finger drumming on the arm rest. "And I am in no mood for a mutiny."
.
The one drone who had been playing with the Jotun kids picked up the damage to a drone in the resting chambers. It buzzed through the halls, trying to pick up your trail, finding corridors and corners to fly through, walking down dark pathways with no windows and steep stairs spiraling deep into the mountains. On its way it found Lulu howling and meowing in a frantic daze, walking down the same path where he found your scent. And it seemed like he found you through the same dark pathway that ultimately reached an opening.
There was nothing but ice all around and in every form. A section of the mountain that opened to the outside with a catch. There were cells cut into this ice for prisoners. Shackles of cold metal rested in every cell. Each of them had metals bars to keep the captives in and an opening in the ice to keep any grain of warmth out. And to add to it all, this entire prison cell rested on a frost chunk hanging at the edge of the mountain.
"Stop, please, you cannot do this!" Your voice and footsteps could be heard echoing through this section.
The drone buzzed and landed on the wall to record the Kruge stripping you of your fur coat with a maniacal grin on his face.
"Hey! HEY!! Give me back my coat!"
Kruge stopped you from going for your coat by his hand coming for your throat. His grip made it hard for you to breathe as you struggled to get out of the hold, your nails trying their best to dig into that stubborn cold skin of his. Lulu ran and growled at the giant, scratching at his ankles till the latter kicked him away.
"What do you want?" you barely managed to get out of your mouth.
"We want Loki out of Jotunheim," he growled in your face, smacking your back in the ice wall behind you before letting go of your throat.
You fell down with a thud and a groan, taking in as much air as your windpipe allowed.
"Okay," you wheezed, "okay. You let me talk to Loki and I will convince him to leave Jotunheim. I promise. I pinky promise."
You even raised your pinky.
But Kruge was already closing the bars on you.
Lulu ran and jumped through the bars to stop by your side, sniffing and crying, wanting to make sure you were okay.
"No no no no," you crawled to the bars, trying to wrap your fingers around them but failing once your skin felt the vicious cold personally, "please don't do this. You have to stop. Now."
"You said you know Loki's weakness," a voice boomed from the shadows where you had been dragged from. A very familiar and ominous voice.
The drone turned to capture Helbindi stepping into the ice prison with a stature fit for kings. "His essence is lost. It is a secret no more, you quim."
You looked at Lulu in confused defeat. "Why does it feel like he called me a whore?" you whispered.
Lulu threw his own curses at the giant.
"Listen, sir, Mr Helbindi," you began, "you want the throne, right? And I want to get out of here alive. How about I take Loki with me? You get back your kingly rights, I get my friends back and we go our separate ways. Everybody wins!"
Helbindi came down on his knees in front of you. A smile rested on those cracked lips of his. His hand went past the bars- to your surprise- and landed on your cheeks. Your gaze kept shifting between his eyes and his hand while your body tried to move away from his hold. But he was one stubborn bastard.
"He must have kept you alive for a reason." Helbindi was talking to himself now. His thumb rubbed against your skin, something that was visibly making you uncomfortable. "Ah...he keeps you to satisfy his nightly needs."
You pushed yourself away from Helbindi, only to be forced into the bars by his hold around your skull; his chuckle resonating through the prison.
"Do not worry my little whore," he whispered right in your ear while his icy breath ran over your skin, "you will be my pet soon. And unlike Loki-" he licked your cheek with his tongue, driving you mad with disgust- "I prefer violence even in my chambers."
Your breaths were shallow. A single tear falling from your eyes as you did you best to maintain your features. "You are making a grave mistake," you whispered through your teeth.
Lulu tried to claw at Helbindi too but Kruge was already kicking him away, earning a death stare from you.
The giant struck his nail in your throat, driving it deep till there was blood. "The only mistake that was made was by you coming into my land. And you all will pay for it."
Dropping you back into the snow, Helbindi got up and walked back into the darkness.
.
Loki watched the doors open to let Helbindi in, his gait ever so dominating as he walked past the judgmental eyes of every other giant in the court with his own little battalion following him, carrying weapons of all sorts.
"A king with no powers has no right to sit on the throne, Laufeyson," Helbindi roared, ground his staff a few feet away from the stairs to the throne, creating a crack in the ground. "And a Jotun with Asgard in his blood has no right to stay alive in Jotunheim."
Weapons were drawn at anyone who was not on Helbindi's side. Javier was already on his feet, running by Loki's side with his camera.
Loki still had his mouth covered with his hand, as if in a tired trance. "Everybody out," he commanded ever so smoothly to his audience- who was hesitant at first, but left as soon as the God's eyes pierced through every last one of them.
Left alone with his brother's radical followers, he sighed out loud, his fingers still drumming.
Javier felt a buzz in his pocket, making him take out the little tablet he used to control his cameras.
"Your actions with every passing moment make me more sure of your inability to rule over the subjects, brother mine," the God simply commented.
The seriousness on Javier's face was turning into a field of fear.
"Oh, I am not asking, brother mine," Helbindi snared at Loki, "I am taking what is mine."
"And why would I give you anything you want."
"Ask your little plaything," Helbindi smirked.
The drumming of those pale fingers stopped.
Silence eroded in the throne room. And slowly a shallow panting was audible from the God's side.
The camera suddenly lost its balance and fell down on the armrest before toppling on the throne behind Loki, his back still in the frame.
Light reflected through Javier's eyes, more precisely through his tears, as he moved the tablet towards Loki.
"Stop, please, you cannot do this!" your voice echoed through the tablet, and all the lines on Loki's face disappeared.
His body got up from the throne, his eyes still stuck on the device, looking at the aftermath of Helbindi's actions.
There was no emotion on the God's face while he witnessed everything recorded on the drone. He did not even budge till the recording finished. Once the screen blacked out, he swerved the tablet for Javier to take back. His gaze was apparently still stuck on the black stones on the floor, his jaw threateningly sharp in whatever light coming from the nearest star.
"If you want to see her alive again, go back to your ship before the star drops fro-,"
"You touched her."
His voice was just a decibel higher than a whisper; his shoulders stiff. The silver bracelets were visible on his wrists, more so with the light reflecting from them. His pale fingers now turned into fists.
"You hurt her."
Nothing but the resonating crack of a metal reverberated through the hall and everything went black.
.
The drone sat over the bars, recording the visible shivering breaths coming out of you while your skin turned pale, your fingers blue and your hairs were already collecting frost over them, despite moving your legs as close as you possibly could to your body.
"P-plea-hease," your voice shuddered, "s-s-stop hi-im. T-there is-s-s st-i-ill time."
"Your master is quite possibly begging on his knees by now," Kruge cackled, gulping down the mead and pouring more from the barrel next to him.
Lulu was trying his best to keep your warm with his little body, wrapping himself around your neck while whimpering for you.
Kruge was about to finish another mug when his ears caught a snicker that slowly turned into a weak laughter.
The drone recorded you chuckling through the pain of the blight.
"What is so comedic," Kruge snarled at you.
"You thought I was telling you to stop for Loki's sake?" you laughed a little more, making the Jotun simmer with building rage.
"I was telling you to stop your master before it's too late, you sewage rat's tick."
The lens panned in on your features, all those helpless tears replaced by a smirk that could put the devil to shame. "You master thinks I am Loki's weakness." Your eyes glistened with a tint of some hidden darkness inside them in contrast to all the white around you. "Because I made him think that, you buffoon."
"He is nothing without his essen-"
"Count your peaceful breaths, you son of a bitch," you stressed, never batting your eyelids, "because you are not going to die an easy death today."
You smiled turned into a chuckle before your eyes turned heavy and you fell down.
The drone- in its last few minutes- went dark, but not before recording Lulu's cried, mewls, howls that slowly turned into a blood curdling roar echoing till the end.
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National Anthem (Benny Watts fic)
- This is just me testing out a Benny/Original character fic I had playing around in my head, if you like it let me know! I’m thinking of making it a chapter story, this is just some concept work of their first ‘meeting’
- Paring: Benny Watts x Original Character
- Words: 1,198
Basement bars were typically below the taste of what Benny Watts enjoyed; dirty and suffocating with cigarette smoke wasn’t the particular scenario that came to mind to him when he envisioned a good night out. Quiet the opposite, in fact, which was something he enjoyed reminding his circle of New York friends with frequently.
It was coated with a blanket of cigarette and cigar smoke, the small circular tables that surrounded the pitifully small stage in the corner were uneven and wobbled whenever he placed an elbow on it. Darkly lit, save for the spotlight centred on the drunk comedian on stage, and the candles that littered the small tables. The liquor was cheap, and the acts that frequented the stage were moderately entertaining so he understood how - after a few beers - people would enjoy it here enough. The humour of the current comedian was cheap, crass and misogynistic jokes which elicited enough jokes to spur him on merely caused an eye roll from Benny.
Anton and Eva, his companions, had been the ones to suggest it. Well, Eva had. Both were editors at The Times and Chess Life, respectively, whom he had come to know very well. Unlike Benny, both came from money and Ivy League educations. He supposed he could understand why they would be drawn to a place like this; it made the pair feel as if they were slummin’ it, but Benny had seen a thousand bars like this.
With a smirk, Anton took a sip of his whiskey, arm draped across the back of Eva’s chair, who leaned forward in delight at the stand-up comedian. Her chuckles were loud, almost likening a cackle. Benny chuckled at her reaction, remembering the crassness of her own humour. It was why he enjoyed her company so much. The heat in the bar had made strands of her blonde bangs stick to her forehead ever so slightly, though she didn’t seem to mind.
Anton undid a button of his dress shirt, the only hint that he was overheated, but otherwise perfectly put together in his suit. He rolled his eyes at Benny as the comedian stumbled off the stage, and the occupants within the bar resumed their conversations in order to fill the silence.
‘Eva’s been banging on about some cuban singer that performs her a couple of nights a week-’
Eva leaned over Anton, interrupting him in excitement. ‘She’s divine, switches between english and spanish, it’s almost like she was born here.’
Benny raised an eyebrow in question at her statement, Anton sensing the sarcastic remark on the tip of his friends’ tongue placed a hand on his shoulder. Silently asking him to ignore the comment.
‘We’ll leave after she’s performed, I promise.’
Benny conceded, raising a hand to the waiter for another beer, and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. He could feel the fabric of his t-shirt sticking to his back due to sweat, he needed a shower.
‘Excuse me.’ A gruff voice cleared their throat, and Benny’s attention returned to the small stage. A burly bearded man, tall and wide in muscle, forearms littered with tattoos, stood on the stage awkwardly. ‘Ladies and gentleman, sorry for the wait, but please welcome our next act to the stage. Milena Sanchez.’
A stilted applause followed him as he left.
‘That’s her!’ Eva tapped Anton’s shoulder.
A small shadow took the steps of the stage, cloaked in darkness until she walked into the spotlight on the stand that held the Shure 55 microphone. The lighting against her skin made it appear golden, sun kissed, though Benny supposed it was just naturally how it looked. Her dark hair was parted in the middle, pulled back into an elegant but professional bun, tight fitted black capri pants hugged her hips and waist. A black turtleneck tucked into it, with a golden name tag glinting on her torso. She had come from work, Benny realised.
She said nothing, except open her full lips - coated in red lipsticks - and took a deep breath. A instrumental record begun to play, and the melody of a piano and harp begun to filter through the air.
Save for the lipstick, her face was bare, but Benny believed that she didn’t need anything to further accentuate her features. Despite the darkness, it were almost if his sense of sight and noise had amplified upon her entrance onto the stage. He felt on the edge of his seat, anticipating her next move.
When she sung, it begun as soft and low; descending into something both haunting and alluring at once. The bar was enraptured, their voices stolen from them by her own. She was an oxymoron, both cold and and burning with a fire that seared through whomever lay at her mercy. Her eyes connected with no one, remaining closed, feeling the music. Almost making her audience want to beg for her to open them.
She gripped the stand of her microphone tightly, which was perceived by many due to passion. But that, along with her unwillingness to open her eyes had Benny certain that it was out of fear, an uneasiness. Perhaps, he mused, she wasn’t used to the spotlight in such a way.
Her voice, as well as her lyrics, evoked a feeling of utter euphoria and desolation, something Benny found unable to describe in any other way within that moment. He was embarrassed by it, almost as if her performance and presence had reverted him back to his teenage years. A scrawny and annoying thing reddening at the sight of an older, hotter girl merely making eye contact with him in the hall.
She seemed beyond the reaches of his grip, out of his league, but he felt compelled to reach out nonetheless.
When she finished, her voice climbing down from the crescendo of her song, she descended into silence. Opening her eyes to only look down at the legs of the tables in front of her, met with large cheers and applause.
‘Thank you.’
Her voice was softer than he anticipated, light and free of the haunting that she sang with him. When she stepped off the stage, her head remain downcast, almost embarrassed to make contact with anyone. She took a seat at the bar, on a stool, and the burly bearded man from before - who had introduced her - placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it before he returned to the stage.
The staff appeared familiar with her, offering wide encouraging smiles as the bartender placed a glass of rose in front of her.
‘That was quiet a show,’ Anton remarked, pulling a cigarette out and placing it between his lips.
‘Didn’t I tell you she was divine? She’s mesmerising.’ Eva said smugly, taking a gulp of her champagne.’I’m trying to get Aster to write a review of her for his entertainment column, but he said places like this are cheap.’
‘Aster would be correct.’ Benny mumbled, before he finished off the rest of his beer. ‘Excuse me.’
He stood, straightening out his shirt as he headed directly towards the object of his obsession of the night. The eagerness to leave the bar left behind him.
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Let me down pt.2
Pairing(s): Peter Parker x reader, reader x oc
Warnings: angst???, curse words, endgame spoilers, interactions that I’m not sure if can be considered fluff
Summary: five years have passed and as soon as Peter comes back from the blip he undertakes a search for all that he believed would always be there, but he’ll find that many things are not as he left them
A/N: I really want to apologize for how long this took, but between lack of creativity and the fact the Tumblr didn’t save the draft when I was just about to finish it, it’s finally here. Also, this will have a part three, so behold.
Masterlist
part one
Peter looked around with unease, all the people from his school that had been bliped, like himself, were sitting in the gym while the new headmaster talked, saying something about how the school’s major priority was to integrate those who had to finish their studies with the ones that were already studying, but he hardly listened a single word.
Everyone, all of his friends and some people he never really talked to, had dull expressions, all of them looked tired, all of them looked like they had been crying a lot in the past weeks, all of them were pale and had huge bags under their eyes as if they hadn’t slept in ages, and Peter knew he was no exception.
But he couldn’t find the one dull, tired, cried-out, sleep deprived, pale face he wanted to see.
He was staring at you in the school bus when everything started, when he needed to create a distraction to jump off the bus. It had been a year since you had broken up, the most painful year of his life, and he still hadn’t been able to fall out of love with you, the way you laughed, the way you talked, the way rolled your eyes at a stupid comment and the way you fiddled with the cross hanging from your neck.
If only he had only known that was the last time he was going to see you before everything went to hell. And now they were back, everyone. Peter felt a void in his chest, a constant sadness he couldn’t seem to shake, but he knew that when he saw you in the assembly the school had called, at least something in his life would be okay.
The problem was that you weren’t at the assembly.
“Hey, dude, have you seen Y/N?” he asked Flash, who was sitting next to him, in a whisper, he received an apologetic look “No, I’m sorry” Flash whispered back, too morally tired to mock him “maybe she transferred or decided not to come, a lot of people did.”
Peter sighed and waited patiently for the assembly to be over, he would ask someone later what the headmaster had said, right now all he needed was to go to the one place he would be able to get some answers. He practically ran to the secretary’s office, just to find in there a girl he had shortly known, a year older than him, except that now she was on her twenties.
“Hi, Peter” she smiled seeing him, “hi, Jess” he answered without hiding his surprise “how are you?” he stilted her head looking at him and Peter almost whined at the tone she had used to ask that question, already used and sick of it, but kept his smile “I’m fine, thank you. I actually wanted to ask about a friend that I didn’t see in today’s assembly, maybe you could tell me if they transferred or just didn’t come..”
“Yes, of course. What’s the name of your friend?”
“Y/N” he responded sadly and Jess’ head jumped to look at him. She adjusted her glasses awkwardly “Peter, she’s already graduated,” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed “what do you mean?” he asked and she sighed “well, y’know, when what we know happened and some people vanished... some of us didn’t. Y/N was one of them, us.”
Peter fell silent. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know what would’ve hurt the most. So many questions started to build up in his head while a heaving feeling installed in his chest.
“D-do you know where can I find her?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
Jess sighed and took off her glasses, looking at him with sorry in her eyes “I’m not allowed to share that kind of information.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need this job.”
“Jess, come one.”
“Peter, I can’t.”
“Is this because of what happened with Liz?”
Jess blinked. “Do you seriously think I’m reprimanding you for something that happened nearly six years ago?”
“... Maybe?”
He leaned into her desk with pleading eyes “please, I’m begging you,” Jess sighed for what felt like the hundredth time “as a secretary I can’t tell you that” Peter sighed with a nod and started to make his way towards the door defeated “but as friend asking for a favor” he turned around quickly as she looked around her office and grabbed the first she saw “I’m kind of busy tonight and I was supposed to take this, uh, house plant to this address” he saw her scribble something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him with an accomplice smile.
“Thanks, Jess” he said quickly taking the house plant in his hands.
“Thank you, Peter,” he nodded and exited the office, stopping at the door when she called him “And, uh, Peter... go there with an open mind.”
That advice confused him but he was far too happy to even think about it.
To say that he spent the next couple hours overthinking is a serious understatement. What was he going to say? What could he say after five years? Should he bring some flowers, maybe? But why flowers, when he was already bringing a house plant? Wait, was he actually supposed to bring the house plant or had it just been Jess’ alibi to suply him the address?
He wasn’t going to go. He couldn’t go. What if you still hated him? The blip was still so recent and you had probably reencountered with other people who had also been bliped, showing up at your house would be too much of a shock. Yeah, no, it was a bad idea. He would wait until everyone was chill. It was too soon.
I’ll just wait a couple days, there’s no hurry, he thought and he was sure it was the perfect approach to the situtation. Yeah, that was what he was going to do, wait. That was, at least, until Ned texted him and told him to get his shit together.
With that motivation he found himself, half an hour later, in Brooklyn standing in front of a white house with the house plant in his hands. Given the size of it, it was a family house surrounded by a beautiful garden, full of plants that required a pretty low maintenance. That was the confirmation Peter needed to know it was your house.
He knocked the door so softly he feared whoever was inside woudn’t listen, not even bothering to look for a doorbell. Almost a minute after, when he was debating between knocking again or leaving, the door opened and he choked on his own breath. It couldn’t be you. I mean, of course it was you, he could recognize you anywhere. But it wasn’t the Y/N he remembered.
Your hair was longer, falling down your shoulders like a waterfall, your body had long ago abandoned its awkward teenage years and now, while young, it was more adult. But your face, the place he stared longily. It was still your nose, your soft skin, your vibrant eyes, everything was the same but with the difference that you were obviously in your early twenties. He realized that, stupidly, his brain hadn’t really thought about the fact that if five years had passed, then you would be five years older.j
“P-Peter?” you dared to ask quietly, not because you didn’t recognize him but as a confirmation that it was really him, standing in front of you.
He opened his mouth to say yes but found a tight not in the middle of his throat that made him understand that he would break down if he tried to talk, so he just nodded.
Quickly you stepped forward to wrap him a hug and his arms didn’t doubt finding place in our waist. Your eyes were full of tears that started to get released when you felt him hide his face on your neck. It was him, how could it be?
After a couple minutes you pulled away and looked at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You were tempted to ask what was he doing there, but you didn’t want to be rude, so you asked the next thing that came to your mind “what’s with the house plant?”
“Oh, yeah” he remembered “Jess said she couldn’t make it tonight,” seeing the confusion that took over your face he nodded “so it was the alibi, then.” You wanted to ask what did he mean by alibi, what did Jess had to do with anything, what was he doing in your house, how did he know where your house was, but again that would be rude, so you invited him to come in.
Peter’s knot untangled as soon as he stepped inside the house, finding himself draped over that familiar sense of security he used to feel when he came down to your room after patrolling. Maybe you just had that effect over spaces. The place was warm and welcoming, wooden floors, a fake fireplace and a wide couch covered by a couple blankets, among other things, he found in the living room while you walked to the kitchen.
Your head was spinning. How had this happened? What was happening? What was Peter Parker doing in your house looking the exact same as the last time you saw him after being missing for five years? You weren’t oblivious to the blip, many of your friends and family had been blipped and you had already talked to them, but still you were confused. You felt like you had all the answers, and yet you had none.
“You want something?” you asked making your way to the living room, his eyes looked in your direction and fell in the glass of white wine resting in your hand with an all too familiar sparkle “can I have some of what you’re drinking?” you suppressed a chuckle because of how child-like that question had been.
“I’ll need to see your ID” you answered before coming back to the kitchen and taking out of the fridge a Capri Sun. He pouted slightly when he saw the drink but grabbed without complaining. You sat beside him on the couch, complete silence upon the room.
“Well, this is awkward” you said after a couple minutes, taking a sip of your wine and he let out a chuckle “it’s not like there’s a manual of what to say to your ex boyfriend when he shows up in your porch after five years still being eighteen while you’re... old” he says and you kick him playfully “I’m twenty-three.”
“How are you holding up?” you asked, knowing that the current situation of the world was probably more painful for those who had been lost, “I’ll be better when everyone stops asking me that” he said harshly before being able to stop himself. He looked at you, expecting to see you taken back by his bitter response but you were looking at him fondly, almost motherly.
“I know it must be annoying to be surrounded by people that don’t know how to express their concern” you said, picking your words in your head “but like you said, there’s no manual on how to approach the situation” he nodded in understanding “I’m sorry,” you nudged him softly, as saying that it was okay.
“How’s the readjustment?” you decided to ask, remembering that Peter had never been one to like complaisance. He sighed. “Well, there’s no manual” he joked “May was also blipped, so I guess that makes it easier.”
“I feel lost” he continued “it’s the same world, but at the same it just... isn’t. I’m the same person and at the same time, someone completely different” without noticing, you had drank all the wine in the glass in just one gulp, “you should see how May is doing, decorating the apartment and trying to learn how to cook, again, and it sucks” he started to talk faster “because she is trying so hard to bring her life together and I’m just... stumbling.”
None of you said anything, so silence fell upon the room once again, except this time it wasn’t comfortable, but a comfort born from a past intimacy that allowed to be quiet. “What’s going to happen with Spider-Man?” you finally asked.
“I have no fucking idea” he said, “I don’t think the world needs him anymore. Christ, I don’t even know if the world wants it anymore!” he sighed and placed the untouched Capri Sun of the coffee table, and once again silence established until you talked again, “I think it does.” He looked at you, confused.
“People felt safe with you patrolling the streets and they felt proud” you sighed “I think you should go back to it, eventually. Not necessarily demon-slaughter Spider-Man, but friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”
Peter rubbed his face “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“I know you do, you’ve had it in you since day one” you replied quickly. “You are entitled to your pain for as long as you need to feel it, but you’re the only person who gets to decide if your trauma is going to be the biggest part of your life. Pete, Spider-Man is part of who you are” he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were fixed on the floor below his feet “you can’t just dispose it and you know it.”
Peter looked at you with half a smile “did you grow into a wise old man in the last few years?” your shrugged with a joking smile “kind of.” You both laughed and it relieved you a little to see Peter do it. “So do you live here by yourself?” he asked looking around and your frowned a little, but the door opened before you could respond.
Peter’s heart dropped when he saw a tall, handsome man make his way into the house with a couple grocery bags on his hands. Right behind him a smaller human sprinted in your direction squeaking a loud “mommy!”
You couldn’t help the smile that fell upon your face when you saw her with her new hoodie and her long hair falling down her shoulders, despite all the effort you had poured into a ponytail that morning. Lovingly you placed her in your lap and tucked a strand of her behind her ear before looking at Peter “Pete, this is Claire, my-”
“Daughter” he finished before you, looking at her with a big smile but teary eyes.
“And Mark” you pointed at the man making her way to you from the kitchen, having placed the bags in the counter, “my husband.” Peter felt his heart break, even you had broken up a year ago (six for everyone else), but still he stood up and shook Mark’s hand. “This is Peter” you introduced “he’s an old friend.”
How had he not seen it? The wedding ring on your finger and all the photos of your new family spread across the living room, the fact the house was clearly a family house, that reality had been all over his face since the moment he set a foot in the house and, yet, he had managed to miss it. That was what Jess had meant when she told him to come with an open mind, she hadn’t been able to find the words to tell him that you were married and had a child.
“Do you like Spider-Man?” he asked with a kind smile to the little girl who looked at him curiously, noticing that the hoodie she was wearing had a draw of him on his first suits. The child’s face light up at the question “yeah, he’s the best!”
He chuckled “I like Spider-Man, too” he murmured, still loud enough to be heard. Claire jumped from your lap and grabbed his leg, "do you want to see my Spider-Man’s Uno edition?” Peter’s eyes widened “there’s an Spider-Man’s Uno edition?”
“Mom, can I show Peter the Uno?” she asked you and you nodded with a soft smile. Practically running, she pulled Peter upstairs towards her room “it was a limited edition, so I made Mum and Dad camp with me outside the store” she told him happily.
Once in the kitchen, stocking the groceries, you broke the silence between Mark and you “he’s my ex.” He looked at you, trying to seem casual “I wasn’t going to ask,” you laughed “yes, you were. You were just trying to find the words to do it without sounding toxic.”
“Okay, you caught me” he admitted and you chuckled “so... you used to date twelve-year-olds before we met?” you looked at him raising an eyebrow “why? Is it a deal breaker?” you joked and he smiled “kind of, I’ll worry when Claire starts inviting friends over” he followed on and didn’t talk again until your laughs faded “he was blipped, wasn’t he?”
You nodded “I just... when I opened that door, he looked so worn-out and lost,” you started saying before he shook his head and wrapped his arms around your waist “you don’t have to explain yourself, it’s okay. I saw that look on my brothers too, the world is a... strange place for him right now, yet he looked for you. He trusts you and I know you care about him, whatever the reason.”
“I love you” you said, "I knew you’d understand.” He leaned down to give you a kiss, but Claire’s hurried steps, with Peter following closely behind, interrupted you. “Can Peter stay for dinner?” she asked, while the teenager’s eyes fell on your embrace and felt a bittersweet feeling.
“Do you want to, Pete?” you asked looking at him, “I don’t want to intrude” he said shyly, “you’re not intruding, Peter,” Mark said with a smile “we did buy ice cream for dessert, a guest is the perfect excuse” an amused smile. “You what?” you asked.
Peter laughed at the look you were sending your husband, and nodded, despite the weight on his heart.
taglist: @eridanuswave @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @lovely-geek @princessdancingonthesunshine @marvel4geeks
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This is probably a silly question 🥺 but do you ever get writer's block and if so, how do you deal with it? I feel like I struggle so much with focusing and pressuring myself into writing that it doesn't come out the way I would like for it to. Do you listen to music or just prefer a silent background? I'm just genuinely curious since TLM is written so beautifully and you're constantly updating it. It literally takes me a week to write a 5K chapter.
This is not a silly question at all.
Unfortunately, I have a lot of thoughts about this, so they’ll be under a cut!
I get writer’s block in various forms. Typically, it’s one of two kinds.
The first (and rarest for me) kind is when there is just a complete blank as to what I want to do with the story. This can be really frustrating if you don’t know your personal rhythm in the creative process, but it can also be really fun to discover what inspires you. I call it letting the story “steep.”
Usually, I need to flush it out with more when this happens. The character needs to want something, the conflict doesn’t have high enough stakes, etc. The Lovely Moons didn’t happen on a whim, trust me. I spent nearly a month thinking on it, developing the character, gathering bits and pieces of lore, and doing general research.
Recently, @di-kut and I compared how we prep our stories. She is very visual because she’s also an artist, so she told me she likes to make mood boards, finds pictures, and even makes art! I’m not as visual, because everything is in my head so I’ll never really find the pictures I’m wanting. So I end up frustrated. I personally prefer making playlists for my stories like it’s a movie soundtrack, and I tend to only listen to those songs when I write. The Lovely Moons has a lot of empowering and dystopian inspired songs on it, because the main character was a slave and overcomes a lot as a person.
If you’re into visuals, I say make a folder and save some images that inspire you. Costumes or clothes your characters might where, scenery where certain plot points happen, pictures of people you envision for different characters. If you want to make a playlist, start with some movies or TV show soundtracks that move you and pick through there.
The second kind of writer’s block, and the one I most often fight with, is when a scene just isn’t coming together the way I want it to. I know that I want to get the story from Point A to Point B, but it just doesn’t feel right, or it’s like pulling teeth.
There are several ways to deal with this.
-Write a few sentences, even if you don’t think they’re good. Just get them into the document, as much as you can manage, and save and close it. Go back to it later, or even the next day. Sometimes you can’t force it to happen, and that’s natural and completely okay! What two sentences you can manage today might help spark you tomorrow to write 5k out of nowhere.
-Accept that what you’re writing down is your first draft, and if you’re worried it might suck, it probably does. This is also okay. It’s supposed to suck and be imperfect. Editing yourself will always stop you from writing. That isn’t writer’s block, it’s fear of failure. Don’t listen to it! Just write. Honestly, this is probably the most important thing that has gotten me through writing TLM. Just getting it down and writing a little bit each day. There have been some days I can only manage a sentence, but it’s the best sentence I’ve written in a while. The more you do it, the easier it comes, and the less often you’ll find your blocked.
-So, you’ve done the previous two steps, and the scene still isn’t working. Well, friend, you are a real writer and are now in the arena of the story trying to tell YOU where it needs to go. And you should listen to it! I know that sounds super cheesy, but it’s true. There have been several times in writing TLM that I expected a scene to go a certain way, and it’s not working because my gut is trying to tell me “Yeah, this isn’t natural” or in character, or flowing. Those are your instincts, and you need to listen to them.
What I’ve done is sometimes open a new document and say to myself, “Self, what would happen if instead of Din shooting Toro Calican, Cyare did it instead?” And then I write that, and boom. It works, it flows, it makes narrative sense.
Sometimes you have to throw yourself a curve ball and be open to having your plans be changed for you. It can suck at first, but when you feel that rhythm take over, it’s worth it. And if you’re not sure what to change or tinker with, try a few things. Does the scene start in the woods and you need to be at the ocean? Try starting the scene somewhere else. Does your character need to go from peaceful to yelling? Start the scene with the character already yelling.
I’ve had several chapters be born from what I only expected to be a sentence, and I’ve had several chapters become a paragraph. And it ends up working out to the story’s benefit, because if something needs to be longer, the words will come. If you’re finding you’re struggling to find the words for something, it probably doesn’t need to be as long as you think it does.
And, two of the biggest weapons to combat writer’s block are this: read and befriend writers!
Read the kinds of stories you’re trying to write! We will only ever grow as writers if we continue to write and continue to read. Reading and supporting other peoples’ art will inspire you and it will also help you carve out your own style.
Being able to talk about your stories and ask for feedback from other writers is imperative to becoming a better author. You’ll never change, never grow, never get better without someone you can count on that you feel comfortable with discussing ideas. Sometimes they’ll be GOLDEN ideas, and sometimes you’ll be talking about Paz Vizla sipping a capri sun and going by in heelies. But it’s a huge confidence boost when you can befriend awesome people by supporting each other’s work, and it helps sometimes to talk out the kinks with someone else.
I hope something in this long, long answer was helpful for you, my love. Be kind to yourself, don’t beat yourself up, and just keep writing! ❤️❤️❤️
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( alberto rosende, 18, he/him ) welcome to reprieve, SIMON LEWIS who is from SHADOWHUNTERS, SEASON 2. rumor has it they are a VAMPIRE/DAYLIGHTER, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine ACCOUNTING TEXTBOOKS WITH SONG LYRICS SCRIBBLED INTO THE MARGINS, SIPPING BLOOD FROM CAPRI SUN POUCHES, AND WEARING YOUR HEART NOT ON YOUR SLEEVE BUT ETCHED INTO YOUR VISAGE; EXPOSED FOR ALL TO SEE.
i.
simon’s the youngest of two children. his older sister, rebecca, has two years on him, and his parents were high school sweethearts turned life partners. things were good. great, even. he had a great family, a best friend who lived a throwing distance away in clary, and a grandmother who was suffocatingly sweet in how she loved them. everything was perfect.
perfect, however, can never last forever.
his father, levi, is sick most of his life. but he’s the healthy kind of sick — the kind of sick you almost forget about because it’s always been part of your story. when he has a heart attack, shortly after simon’s 14th birthday, his death is a shock. no one saw it coming.
his mother starts drinking. his sister’s 16, buries herself in her relationship, and simon does his best to pick up the slack. it’s a rough few years but eventually his mom cleans up, gets her 30 day chip, and then a year, and things almost feel normal again. or at least, less like they’re teetering on the edge of chaos.
if he makes safe choices, doesn’t rock the boat, it’s because he’s been paddling alone all his life. he doesn’t know what happens when he stops.
ii.
he’s 18 when he finds out that all of the legends are true. some that he hasn’t even heard of. demons, vampires, werewolves, faeries — all true. except instead of van helsing doing the hunting they’re called shadowhunters and clary, his clary, is one of them. his best friend. he’s worried — for her safety, what these revelations mean, and if maybe they’ve all entered some kind of trippy twilight zone — when being in the right place at the wrong time gets him pulled into their world.
correction: his world now.
camille belcourt feeds him her blood which leads to hallucinations; fear that he’s becoming a vampire. in search of answers he turns back up at the dumort, only to walk straight into his own death. instead of staying dead forever, raphael gives clary the choice and she chooses life; or at least, the undead version.
he becomes a vampire.
he chokes on the names of his god.
he wonders if it was the right choice.
iii.
being a vampire? not all it’s cracked up to be. as a vegetarian, simon takes great offence to drinking blood. he drinks enough to get by, though sometimes has a tendency to starve himself until he’s desperate. he doesn’t like being a vampire, though he has come to appreciate some of the perks.
it also helps that after drinking jace’s blood, he’s a daylighter. no more hiding in the shadows for this vamp.
after years of being clary’s best friend, of treading carefully in the friendzone, something sparked between them. they kissed and decided to give things a try.
so of course, it only makes sense that that’s the moment he gets portaled into some alternate dimension where all of his friends are gone.
he takes up residence in a vacant mini-home on some lot in echo. houses for the displaced are popping up everywhere, taking advantage of the newcomers’ desperation, but he figures squatting until he can figure out how to get home is better than trying to navigate home loans in what he isn’t convinced isn’t some advanced version of the sims. or worse.
he’s been around reprieve for a few weeks so assuming connections is fine by me!
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pokes the corners of her lips and forces her to smile. "don't be mad at me, darling!"
she promises he doesn’t have to step out for her – in fact, she nearly begs him to stay in the car, both hands stubbornly cementing the latch of his seatbelt to its buckle. they can laugh and squabble over it like kids, fingers stealing pokes and tickles … but for her there’s real fear in the loom; if her co-workers see him giving her a ride to work in the early morning, the talk will never end. and though jokes about sid being her boyfriend could pink her for pleasure, it’s one thing to be heralded like a hero when you’re stumbling out the car defeated.
. . . if she’s honest, she’s too afraid to fight for him. she can’t, not when she feels she’s heard his answer already. it was there last night in the distance.
they’re twenty-three now and there’s no more forts in their sleepovers – no more sips of capri sun at midnight that lead them to grumble & brush their teeth again. it’s just him asleep here, and her still awake over there … her thinking of how the night could have gone differently if he wanted her, if he liked her at all, just a little. just like that.
and it’s her remembering that it should be enough just to eat breakfast with him … and then it’s her seeing him sleepy with his glasses, so cute, cute, cute with his rumble still coated with languor. it’s her sad to leave him in the morning, but hiding it with frowns & fluster.
. . . she’s the one tousling his hair for once, hoping it’ll sojourn the driver here while she manages to tear herself away, swinging the passenger door open. with gratitude & grief she chirps see you for now, slipping from his scent and into the brisk of morning –
– but she only makes it twelve steps before he calls out to her, and she whirls and his hair is perfect again and he’s making a HEART with his fingers for all those ( pressed fervently at the window of the restaurant ) to see. endeared, embarrassed, ENFLAMED, she sprints back in a second, words a jumble of scolding & stutter. he makes it better – worse ! – by calling her sweetly, touching lips to smile in a twin kiss between skin tanned & petaled pink.
slowly remembering the row of piercing eyes behind them, she catches his arms to lower but her fingers can’t reach all the way ‘round his wrists. ❝ shhhh! ❞ she chides but can’t wash her smile from her face; it stays even without his touch.
she could grant his request easily.
❝ – who could be mad at you? ❞ she breathes with heartache, disappointments of last night scrubbed with just a chuckle from him; she’s made helpless again.
who could do anything but love you?
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Surgery: Part 1
Logan Angst anyone? :}
I’ma just tag a bunch of people. @what-even-is-thiss @cup-of-blue @leesacrakon @ts-sideblog @storytellerofuntoldlegends @anonymous-snake @prinxietys @dolphin-squirrel @evilmuffin @fancifulfox @the-prince-and-the-emo @organizeddiscord @pantton-sandacers @thagrinbery @here-to-vent @justanotherpurplebutterfly @romananalogicality @prplzorua @softlogic @toxicsanders @remmythepegasis (let me know if you want to be tagged or not in future updates)
“Though the mind may not remember, the heart will never truly forget.”
Suddenly, Virgil awoke. He gasped as he sat up and regained the consciousness he had lost. Shaking in fear, he could vivdly remember the needles going into Thomas’s arm right before the anesthesia kicked in. With his arms clutched to his sides, he struggled to stand up and take in his surroundings.
It was a mixture of black and white. He couldn’t see anything or anyone else around him. What was outlined were only shadows of what once stood proudly. The mind palace. Virgil Thought. The defined form had vanished and slowly but surely, the shadows in front of him began to fade as well, until the shades mixed together to form an endless, grey void.
This was new. It was change. Virgil of all the sides hated change the most. His eyes grew white with fear as he began to run into the nothingness, calling out the names of those he held dear. “Patton! Logan! Roman!” He quickened his pace after hearing nothing in response. He tried to call again, but was quieted by a strong pair of arms snatching him out of his sprint and resting a hand on his mouth.
Instantly, the darker aspect recognised Roman’s embrace and relaxed as much as he could in his hurried state. Virgil shifted his gaze up into the prince’s eyes to see the same amount of fear within him staring back intently. Roman cautiously released and the two sides gaze at each other, exchanging a wordless conversation. Neither of them had the correct answer to any questions that could have been asked about the current situation. It was not until another voice was heard off in the distance that their exchange was put on hold.
They bolted without a second thought, running to where they thought the sound was coming from. For hours it seemed they dashed on, the noise getting louder and more defined. It was sobs, coming from the one they all knew to be the most emotional of the group. They found him, curled up on the ground, clutching onto something as tight as a toddler would cuddle a stuffed animal. Standing over him, they had never seen him so heartbroken or torn apart in all of their life.
His cardigan was ripped in half. His hair dishelved. His glasses shattered on the ground. A wet spot accumulating under his face as the tears streamed down from his eyes. They could tell he had not moved since the procedure had begun. Seeing the happy aspect like this ripped both of their hearts in two. Gingerly, they sat down next to him, knowing full well comfort was unatainable It was clear Patton knew something that they didn’t.
1 week earlier...
“Mr. Sanders. The results have come back and we are afraid to inform you that your frontal lobe is failing. If we do not act quickly you may die within the month.” Gasps were heard all around the room.
“What can we do!?” Thomas’s mom was practically in tears as her husband tried to comfort her. Thomas was unable to speak as the news was relayed to him.
“We can attempt to do a partial brain transplant, but he will most likely forget everything he has ever learned.” The doctor folded his hands quietly and prepared to be bombarded. And bombarded he was. The room flew into a panic. Facts about cost and life thrown back and forth, friends and family both fighting. Voices escalating. People crying. Logan and Thomas both watched in sheer paralysis as the scene unfolded in front of their eyes.
The human couldn’t take all of this chaos. He clocked out and dove straight into the mind palace to collect his thoughts better. In front of him stood Logan who also looked like he had seen a ghost. They stared at each other in complete silence before the logical trait gained the voice to speak.
“Depending on if...your parents have enough money to pay for the surgery, I suggest you take the offer.”
“What?” Thomas didn’t think his eyes could get any wider.
“It is a proven fact that...life is more valuable than knowledge. I think you should take that fact deep into consideration while making a decision.”
Thomas broke eye contact with his logical aspect as he looked at the ground. Slowly he nodded and agreed. “Okay. I think you are right. Even if I do forget everything, I can always make new memories.” He picked his head back up and returned Logan’s gaze, greeting him with a smile. “I can’t stop being positive even through this rough time. Thank you Logan.”
Logan nodded, his unchanging eyes withholding his true thoughts about Thomas’s decision. “Of course Thomas. I was always here, helping you assess situations and the best ways to deal with them. This just so happens to be...one of the most unexpected decisions we have ever had to make.”
Thomas nodded. “It is.” An awkward silence ensued, before it was broken by Logan who cleared his throat.
“They have settled down. You might want to go back to the real world and reveal your answer to them.”
“Oh. Alright. I will see you later.” Thomas turned to leave, but looked back to his logical aspect as the human’s lips curled into an immediate frown. “Logan? Please...don’t tell them. Don’t tell them anything. Nothing about any of this. For everyone’s sake.”
Nothing on Logan’s features changed. “I do not plan to.”
Thomas looked back away whilst nodding in agreement and returned to the real world in silence, leaving Logan standing in the midst of an empty room.
“-what do you think Thomas?...thomas?”
“Huh? What?” The human jolted out of his trance only to be met with a dozen of pairs of eyes staring at him, causing his anxiety to rise.
Virgil walked into the mind palace, causing Logan to jump. “Woah what the heck is going on here?” He was casually sipping juice from a Capri-Sun pouch as he strode up to the logical trait, almost finding out the truth.
Absentmindedly, Thomas stomped on his own foot, alerting the anxious aspect to a different part of Thomas’s brain. “Ah! What?!” Instantly Virgil removed himself from the room and ran to where he was being called. Logan breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the anxious aspect had not found out the gravity of the situation.
Somehow Thomas managed to bite back his whimpering about the pain coming from his right foot so as to not alert anyone else around him. He began to recall what the company in the room were talking about whilst he was in the mind palace.
“O-oh yes. Um...I believe that life is more important than my memories. I know that I won’t be the same, but we can’t let that stop us from living. Even if I won’t remember you all, my heart will never forget. And who knows? Maybe one day I might regain all my lost memories. I choose not to live in fear.” Thomas motioned to all of his loved ones as he spoke, to which they all nodded in solemn agreement.
“Then its settled. We will schedule the brain transplant for one week from today.” The doctor reorganized his notes and began to shake hands with the people in the room that had previously argued with him before. Everyone had deeply respected Thomas’s decision, to the point where the peace had even affected Thomas.
As Thomas laid down to rest for the night, Logan retired to his room and locked the door behind him. He had immediately collected the information from tonight’s hospital visit, so none of the other sides could have access to it. Calmly sitting on his bed, he began to ponder what Thomas’s decision entailed. It was obvious both he and the Thomas everyone knew only had a week to ‘live’ essentially.
He glanced down at the information file in his hands. For once in his life, he had no idea where to put it or what to do with it. Should he transfer it somewhere else? He scowled and arose from his bed, beginning to scour his book shelves for an answer. After a while of searching, Logan picked a book and began to flip through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Grabbing a pen from his nightstand, he clicked the end and began to write in the book...
----End of Part 1----
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B. French II Chapter Two
Belle meets Baelfire, just like literally everyone prompted.
Chapter One
Gold hadn't expected a text from Belle that week. He wasn't quite sure why he'd given his divorce attorney his personal number. He told himself because it was quite easier to keep up with but it was much more likely because Belle French was...Well he didn't know what she was and calling her magic was simply juvenile.
“Does Baelfire like books?”
The question was still sitting happily in his inbox, perfectly content. Of course she'd ask about books. Her office was practically a library.
“Yes. He enjoys reading.” Was his response after an hour and 17 minutes. After all, he couldn't appear as if he only had his phone for entertainment and contact to the outside world on weeks he didn't have his son.
Her response was immediate. “Books and swans. Perfect! I have a great gift for him then. See you both Saturday!”
Gold frowned. Books and swans, she’d said. He wondered if he should tell her that his son had more than one copy of “The Ugly Duckling.” He wasn't even sure if his son enjoyed the story anymore. He was about to text back and tell her not to bother with something so trivial. Was it even appropriate for his custody attorney to be getting his son a gift? In the end, though, he only sent back a thank you. Whether it was from lack of courage for fear of angering the woman who controlled the outcome of this ordeal, or from sheer trust of Belle he didn't know.
He liked to believe it was the former.
“Who are we going to see?” Baelfire asked as Gold helped him out of the car. He re-adjusted the sling his arm was in. The doctor didn't say he explicitly needed it, but Gold felt a lot better about him having it when they went out.
“Our custody attorney.” Gold said, opening the door of the building for his son and leading him to the elevator. “Her name is Belle French.”
“Why can't Midas do it?”
His son’s tone was rather bitter, and ahold wondered if Belle’s belief in Bae meeting her had some merit. The elevator came and Gold let his son press the button to Belle’s floor.
“Midas doesn't specialize in this.” Gold explained. “But he recommended Belle.”
“And she's gonna make it so I can live with you?”
“She’ll do her best.”
Baelfire seemed to accept this, fiddling with his sling as the elevator brought them up to Belle’s floor. Gold tried to ignore the knot tangling in his stomach as the elevator doors opened. For whatever reason, it seemed important that Baelfire like Belle. It was ridiculous, of course. Once this was all over they’d never see each other again. The sentiment was almost as ridiculous as the way his stomach dropped when Belle’s office door opened and the same broad-shouldered man from the picture on her desk walked out, Belle following easily
“Thank you so much for helping bring that up, Gaston.”
“Anytime, Bluebell.” The man smiled broadly. “You’re gonna end up making that office into an apartment one of these days. All that’s missing is a cot and a microwave.”
“Oh your office is the same way.”
The other man chuckled, and Gold frowned. Belle’s smile was wide but not as bright as it had been when he'd visited. Perhaps something was wrong? That was disconcerting for a number of reasons. However, his fears soon disappeared when he cleared his throat and Belle turned to him, her eyes lighting up the entire room.
“Mr. Gold. Hello again!”
“I'll get out of your hair.” The other man said immediately, and Gold couldn't help the confident smirk that crossed his face. “See you tomorrow, Bluebell.”
“See you Gaston.” Belle said easily, waving the other man off before stepping out of her office to hold the door open for them. “How was your drive in, Mr. Gold?”
“It was fine.” Gold said, his tone perhaps too harsh. “Belle, this is my son, Baelfire.”
Belle gave a gentle smile. Kneeling down so that she was on eye-level with his son, she held out her hand so that Baelfire could shake it with his good hand.
“It's nice to meet you, Baelfire. I'm Belle French, your custody attorney.”
The boy frowned. “You're papa’s custody attorney.”
“Not when the custody concerns you.” Belle said, seemingly unaffected by his son’s skeptical eyes. After a moment of internal debate, however, he shook her hand, and Belle beamed. “We'll step right into my office, you two. Sit wherever you like. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Juice box?”
Gold wrinkled his nose. “You have juice boxes in your office?”
“Only when I have a case.” Belle said. “Gaston wasn't kidding when he said the office is practically like an apartment sometimes.”
Gold’s mouth quirked slightly. He knew all about practically living in one’s office. As they stepped in he saw things had indeed been changed. The front area for her secretary had been moved around, giving the desk room on one side and making way for a makeshift reading nook with bookshelves and a settee on the other. Belle’s side also sported a settee by a bookshelf but also a mini fridge in the back corner as well as a coffee maker and hot plate that seemed to have a tea kettle on it. The other man had been right. With a cot and a microwave it would have indeed been an appartment.
“Do you have CapriSun?”
His son’s question snapped Gold out of his trance, and Belle gave a smile before producing one from the fridge.
“Have a seat.” She told them. “Can I get you anything Mr. Gold? Coffee? Tea? I just made some Camomile.”
“Tea would be lovely.”
Belle gave a nod, seeming to busy herself with retrieving the tea as his son determinedly stuck the straw into his juice box using only one hand. A comfortable silence fell over them, interrupted only by Baelfire’s slurping and the pouring of tea. It was odd. Normally if a silence feel in an attorney’s office he’d be worried. Anxious that something had gone wrong. However, as Belle finished preparing the tea and came to sit at her desk with their cups, he was anxious for a completely different reason.
“Are you and papa gonna talk boring legal stuff?” Baelfire asked, his nose wrinkling.
Gold opened his mouth to reprimand his son and remind him of his manners, but Belle cut him off with a laugh. She sat a teacup before him, and the warmth of the ceramic calmed him if only a little.
“Not today.” Belle said. “Today’s more about you. What do you know about these cases?”
Baelfire only blinked at her, and Gold looked to his son helplessly. He hadn't talked about how court cases went with his son. He and Midas knew the ins and outs so thoroughly it was rarely an issue. Baelfire had never shown any interest in his work. Not only that, but Belle didn't seem to be shying away from sharing the details with his son, leveling with him in a way even he never had. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Gold had spent quite a bit of time shielding his son from the cruelties of the world. He didn't need to be reminded of them now especially.
“Not much.” Baelfire said eventually. “Just that you're gonna make it so I can live with papa.”
“I'll do my best.” Belle said, echoing what Gold had told him moments before. “I mainly don't want you to be surprised by anything. This might get a bit hard for everyone, and the more you know about how things work the better.”
Baelfire nodded, and Gold was immensely impressed by how easily Belle seemed to explain things to him. Not only the things abnormal attorney would know such as how the case and hearings would go and what the judge would take into account, but also what the two of them could expect throughout the case when it came to stress and the like. Her voice never wavered from the kind, almost tender tone she’d originally had when she mentioned to him how the case would be hard for Baelfire. His son listened intently, nodding when need be. His eyes were intense and focused, but his posture was easy and relaxed as he sipped away on his Capri-Sun, and once again Gold was astounded with just how reassuring Belle could be. It helped that her knowledge of the custody case was so thorough, no doubt. Almost...intimate.
“Oh!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands once she was done with her explanation. “I almost forgot.”
Gold blinked over his now empty teacup as Belle leaned to a far drawer of her desk and pulled out a book. He leaned closer, trying to get a good look at it, but she handed it to his son before he could.
“This is for you.”
Baelfire looked at the book skeptically, then set down his empty juice packet to inspect it.
“The Trumpet of the Swan?” Baelfire flipped through the pages. “I've never heard of it.”
“Your dad mentioned you liked swans.” Belle said, her voice uneven for the first time since Gold had met her.
“They're my favorite.” Baelfire admitted sheepishly.
Belle beamed. “Well this story was one of my favorites growing up. My business card is in there marking my favorite spot. If you need me you can call the number written on it.” Her gaze turned to Gold, and his grip on his teacup wavered. “Both of you.”
Baelfire nodded, and Belle picked up her cup of tea. It had gone cold during her explanation of the custody case, but she didn't seem to mind.
“Well…” she said. “That's all I had planned for today. Do you two have any questions for me?” Baelfire shook his head. “Do you want another juice box or more tea?”
“Can I have another?”
Belle gave his son a smile and rose to get his son another Capri-Sun. “And you, Mr. Gold?”
“I…” He hesitated. He should get home. It wasn't a school night but it was the beginning of his weekend with Baelfire and he hated to miss any time he got with his son. And yet, as Belle tilted her head at him and he was once again pinned with her brilliant blue eyes he found he didn't want to leave. “One more cup would be lovely.”
She smiled, coming over to put him another cup as she refreshed her own. She asked him about his job and they talked for a while about antiques and antique books and the town of Storybrooke. The passion she had for books was astounding, and it was a wonder she'd gone into the attorney profession at all with the way she talked about libraries. He wasn't sure how long they'd simply talked, but his tea was running out and Baelfire had already made it through a chapter of his book.
After a while she asked Baelfire about his cast and before he knew it she was signing it with a golden sharpie.
“Belle, are you married?”
Gold opened his mouth, but the scolding he had for his son about remembering manners died on his tongue with Belle’s musical giggle.
“No I'm not.” She answered easily, finishing off her tea. “I'm not in a relationship of any kind, really. Unless it's with my job.”
“Would you wanna be?”
Belle seemed to consider this. “I wouldn't mind being married and part of a family if that's what you mean. Why the sudden personal question?”
“You had juice boxes and a book for me and tea.” Baelfire shrugged, glancing to his father before turning back to her. “With the way you talked you just seemed like you'd make a better wife for Papa than mom.”
The sound of porcelain hitting the hardwood floor of Belle’s office echoed through the room, and Gold’s face paled as quickly as it had flushed. It took him a moment to realize his cup had fallen.
“I'm sorry.” He stuttered, leaning down to retrieve the cup, swallowing when he realized what had happened. Not only had he spilled the remainder of his tea under her desk, but her cup was ruined. “It's chipped…”
“It's only a cup.” Belle said.
“It seemed old…”
“Look.” Belle said, taking it from his hand, her fingers brushing his ever so slightly. “You can hardly see it. No harm done.”
“Y-yes.” He cleared his throat. “Of course.”
Belle seemed to try and hold back a laugh, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth. After a moment she blinked, remembering herself, then she leaned towards Baelfire.
“Why don't we let your papa worry about the custody case first. Then finding a wife.”
She gave his son a wink, and Baelfire beamed. His son, it seemed, was as taken with their attorney as he was. Gold could only hope that was a good omen.
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Favourite Music Videos
Music is a diverse platform which connects the whole world. Moreover, it lets people relate to one another. Just like any other person, there are multiple reasons as to why I enjoy listening to music.
When I listen to music, I can step into a different place and escape the daily hassles and stress of life. It lets me escape reality and fantasize about different things which soothe my mind.
Furthermore, music expresses that which cannot be put into word. Sometimes, the song and lyrics describe an experience or situation I might be going through along with the emotions that are felt. On top of that, music is always evolving and the lines and genres of music are becoming more blurred together due to which new and better songs are being produced.
I have been watching videos from a very early age and consider it one of the greatest entertainment. I will be embedding my favorite music videos below and explain the reasons as to why I enjoy them.
1. When You’re Gone - Avril Lavigne
From a very young age, Avril has been one of my most favourite music artists. Her songs are either very raw and vulnerable or rock and roll. In this case, it is the former. This music video portrays three relationships in different age groups, but in the same situation who have to say goodbye to the person they love. It also portrays all the little things they later miss about them. The audience can easily connect with this song as there is always someone in a person’s life who they loved and how they can only think about all the memories they shared with them. Additionally, I love how her voice resembles her feelings which further helps raise the star quality of the artist and helps the audience feel more connected to her.
2. Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots
This is another one of my favourite music videos which focus on nostalgia for childhood, the pressure of childhood and family relationships. Josh and Tyler can be seen as adults riding tricycles, sipping from Capri-Sun pouches, and playing music in their rooms. In the end, they shout “You need to make money!” which suggests the pressure of working and earning money which leads to sacrificing childhood fun, and dreams.
The main thing which fascinates me is how Twenty One Pilots have brought brilliant symbolism through the character of Blurryface. It personifies their insecurities and fears. Their lyrics make you feel like they understand you better than anyone else.
3. You Rock My World by Michael Jackson
Michael Jackson is without a doubt one of the greatest artists to exist. Almost all of his videos are entertaining and filled with dance sequences, and beautiful cinematography. However, You Rock My World is my top favourite. The song is extremely catchy and instead of being a music video, it can be described as a short film. I absolutely love when a music video tells a short story since it increases excitement and makes the video more entertaining to watch. Adding to that, this video also features one of my favourite actors - Marlon Brando. Even though he appears for a short period of time, nonetheless, it makes the video more enjoyable.
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