#anyway i am sympathetic towards these creatures in a way i was not previously | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vislorrturlough · 3 years

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Scaramouche!

"Of course, this assumption of responsibility does not mean that we are not conditioned genetically, culturally, and socially. It means that we know ourselves to be conditioned but not determined. It means recognizing that History is time filled with possibility and not inexorably determined-that the future is problematic and not already decided, fatalistically."

- Paulo Friere

For as long as Loki can remember, tapestries have lined the walls of Asgard's palace.

When Loki was a child, the Allmother sat by his bed one night and explained the significance of the tapestries that lined the walls of their home.

“The Norns weave the tapestry that assigns our roles,” she told him. “So that we may fulfill our fate and serve Midgard as we are meant to.”

The tapestries stretched across all the walls of the palace, covering vast miles of golden wall with breathtaking imagery depicting life and death and love and hate and everything in between. They pictured Loki too, who moved from boy to tragedy to a vicious and cruel man.

“So I have a role too? And Thor?” he asked. She smiled at him with fondness. The Thor on the tapestries seemed brave and strong - Loki could never imagine his brother, still a boy himself, to become that hulk of a man someday.

“Of course, Loki,” she said. “We all have roles. I am a mother, and a magician. Thor will be a great hero. Your father, a beloved and wise king. This is what is sewn into our destiny, to be enacted until Ragnarok and again after that. In a cycle, unending and unwavering.”

He yawned, obscuring the nervousness bubbling in his chest and curling the silken covers around his shoulders. He knew what the tapestries said Loki would do. He had hoped that maybe - “What’s my fate, mother?” he asked quietly.

Her smile, previously relaxed, became firm and serious. His heart was racing, thinking of that man, and of the awful cruelty that was depicted to come at his hands. “We all have a part to play, my dear. And every story has a villain for a reason.”

Despite common misconception, Loki Laufeyson never lived in the moment. In fact, Loki found the moment particularly difficult to pin down. Once you begin to think “Hey, I think this is the moment!” it wasn’t the moment anymore, and Loki already had four tabs open on his phone about the relativity of time and he didn’t need anymore.

Loki lived in the future, which was why he was that very moment getting his fair share of serotonin from the Schrödinger’s Night Out with Sigurd and Lorelei he was planning.

“Sigurd definitely won’t come out if Lorelei isn’t,” he explained to Verity as he paced hurriedly around their absurdly fancy flat, which he paid for entirely and in return, Verity didn’t ask where he got all the money. “Which means I need Lorelei to agree first. One problem with that!”

“Lorelei hates you?” Verity asked, as she planted an orange tree in Stardew Valley.

“Lorelei hates me!” Loki agreed. “Which means I need to sweeten the pot.”

Verity glanced up at him suspiciously. “How are you going to do that?”

He grinned, and picked up a pen so he could start dramatically gesticulating. “Bisexual women! They’re always fascinated with me. And by the end of the evening, I’ll have established a system where I transport their attention from me to Lorelei and get her many dates. Like a Ford factory.”

She glared, turned back to her game. “You’re a walking hate crime.”

“Was that a lie, Verity?” he teased, collapsing on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tried just barely to shrug him off. “Was it a lie when I said bi women are fascinated with me? Was it?”

Verity narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything, and in response he burst into cackles of laughter.

—

Lorelei claimed to be very insulted that Loki thought bisexual women liked him more than her, but he knew well that she knew well that she looked like the straightest girl alive and really, that was her own fault. Once Lorelei was a confirmed booking, Sigurd swiftly followed, because he’s nothing if not a simp, and thus Loki had now established the perfect evening. A pricey club, two people who could barely stand him, and himself.

Although he never really enjoyed it. He’d never planned to.

Anticipation was a drug, really. And as previously established, the moment was very boring indeed. And this moment, Loki found himself crammed against Sigurd, who while very attractive and an owner of some very firm abs, was covered in sweat, and only slept with Loki when he was desperate anyway. Loki squinted up at him, and tried to figure out if he was desperate tonight.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sigurd shouted over the music.

Loki smiled at him genially, and proceeded to turn quickly around and elbow his way to the smoking area.

The initial smack of fresh onto his face was divine. He closed his eyes and smiled in satisfaction, continuing to move forward. The music was more muted out here, and the sound of voices and laughter blurred into itself until nothing was anything anymore. Peace! The lights were all different shades of pink and green, and they cast an ethereal glow over the throngs of young people with cigarettes in their hands, all here, all living now.

Loki bumped into someone.

“Shit!” he yelped, watching in horror as her cocktail spilt down her crop top. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!”

She’d flinched a bit during the incident itself, but the alcohol had seemingly tempered any stronger reaction than that. Lightly brushing at her (now soaked) top, she only laughed lightly and smiled at him. “No worries, dude!”

He pulled out his best prince charming grin (practiced in the mirror and finely tuned). “Please, let me at least buy you another drink.”

“I’m not going to say no to a drink!” she laughed shyly, and they traipsed inside to the bar. Sigurd seemed to have vanished, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Lorelei getting very close to the DJ, so maybe if Loki had any luck he was crying in the gents or something. Usual affair, really.

He bought them both mojitos, and they fought their way back through the crowd to return to the smoking area. “I like your necklace,” he said, because his mother had always said women liked having their jewelry complimented. Sif had later said that they didn’t, but Sif was as much a woman as Loki was a man, so her opinion didn’t count.

The girl giggled. “Thanks, it’s a crucifix.”

“Oh sorry!” Loki said. “I’m not from around here. That’s the catholic thing right?”

“Do you guys not have catholicism in Britain?”

Ugh, mentioning Asgard would dance a bit too close to the possibility of ‘Oh man, anyone ever told you you look like Thor’s evil brother?’. Loki chuckled instead and rolled his eyes. “I was pretty sheltered. It was like, a weird cult?”

“Oh wow! That’s so interesting.” She had a sympathetic sort of look on her face, and Loki quickly buried the irritation that bubbled up in his chest. The sympathy wasn’t for Loki anyway, just some fake man who grew up in a cult. Did he think Asgard was a cult? God, he was glad he didn’t have a therapist

“Yeah, I don’t really believe in it now, you know?” he lied easily, smiling at her. “It’s hard to have faith when it’s like, you never see any proof.”

She nodded understandingly. “Yeah, lots of people say that nowadays, what with superheroes and Asgard and all. I don’t know, I kind of think the fact I don’t have proof makes it more important.”

“Oh yes?” Loki asked. “What do you mean by that?”

She looked up at the lights, placed her free hand on the crook of the elbow of the hand holding her drink. For a second, Loki saw ancient and revered philosophers! He decided that they’d had it all wrong. Screw the forums, they should’ve done all their philosophising in smoking areas.

“It means something, you know?” she explained slowly. “Like, of course we believe in the ground and the sky and all. Those are right in front of us, we can’t deny that. Same with science, or aliens, or Asgardians. But believing in God requires a certain kind of faith. I’m going beyond seeing and believing. I’m just believing. God has a plan for me, and I believe in that.”

Loki nodded slowly. A fate? One set, but controlled by a benevolent creature and entirely unknown? It wasn’t true or real of course, but there was a beauty to it, that Loki, who’s path was clear and determined, appreciated. The alcohol (he and Lorelei made a habit of spiking drinks they bought on earth with Asgardian liqueur, so they’d, you know, work) was beginning to blur his awareness anyway. “That’s beautiful,” he said kindly.

She giggled, quickly touching her necklace and looking at the ground. “Haha, sorry! I study theology, it’s kind of a thing.”

“No, no!” Loki laughed, giving her a wide grin. “It was very interesting! Where do you study?”

They got into a long conversation about Sarah’s (her name, Loki found out eventually) degree, NYU dorms and a guy she hated in her seminars, before he noticed Lorelei making a beeline towards him, her hand around Sigurd’s wrist.

“Hey,” she said, before frowning at him and glancing at Sarah. “I’m going home with a girl named Angelica. She’s goth and plays bass. So you need to take Sig home.”

“I’m literally an ancient hero. Of legend,” Sigurd interjected.

Lorelei turned and glared at him instead. “Well, you need to take Loki home.”

“Oh well, come on then Sig!” Loki said loudly, ignoring his scowl. “Thank you for such a lovely conversation, Sarah darling. Have a nice night!”

“Thanks Luke!” she laughed, not being not obvious about checking Sigurd out. Oh God, she probably thought he was dating Loki. Yuck, how mortifying. “See you around!”

“Go get a taxi,” Lorelei told him, before wandering off to a girl with a septum piercing and docs, which Loki considered quite basic, especially for Lorelei.

They didn’t get a taxi. They walked five minutes until Loki ducked around a corner, ignored Sigurd saying “Aren’t we getting a taxi?” and grabbed his arm before dragging him through the spaces in between the universe and dropping him on the bean bag in his living room. A solitary pringles can rolled quietly and hit Loki’s foot.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” Loki muttered, kicking it away.

“I hate you,” Sigurd growled, pinching his nose and clearly trying not to throw up. Loki didn’t know why, it wouldn’t be any major downgrade from how the room was currently. “And I hate that. You’re such a fucking prick Loki.”

Time to make his exit before Sigurd regained enough strength to cause him bodily harm. “Bye honey!” he trilled, and Sigurd’s growl was cut off as he made his way to his own apartment. He didn’t wake up Verity, she had work tomorrow, so he just kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, surrendering to unconsciousness.

Verity and Loki had moved in together for two reasons.

1) Loki spent most of his time at Verity’s. He had a separate shelf in her fridge for his energy drinks and his salsa, and a special place at the bottom of her spice cupboard for his snacks. He told Verity she had full ownership over all the snacks and could have them when he’d left, but she never did. Instead she got the little clip things she used and pinched the bags closed carefully, putting them to the side for the next time he came over. It was thoughtful, and Loki didn’t know what to do with it, so he never mentioned it. He got bored quite easily anyway, and most of his ‘friends’ had a very limited tolerance of him, so most days he found himself on Verity’s couch, playing Uno and eating Oreos.

2) Verity’s flat was bad and small and Loki’s was perfect and expensive, and if he spent all his time with Verity, they may as well hang out in his sketchily acquired penthouse. Plus, paying her rent made him feel useful. It was like a payment for all the little clips on his packets of Doritos.

He didn’t regret it. Except he thought that perhaps he might be as close as he could get to regretting it as he lay in bed listening to her pounding viciously at his door.

“Are you alive?” she yelled through the mahogany. He groaned just loudly enough to be heard, and she banged one more time for good measure before her footsteps quickly petered off towards the kitchen.

He sighed in frustration, rolling off his bed with just enough basic athletic ability to land on his feet. His vision blacked out for just a second, and his head very much rejected the idea of being on his feet. Had he shifted through space while drunk? That was so dangerous. He should have gotten like, a driving ticket. A magic driving ticket.

He stumbled into the kitchen and stared blearily at Verity. “What are you cooking?” he mumbled.

“Eggs,” she replied without turning. “Want some?”

“Hmm.” He stares at the clock. One in the afternoon? That wasn’t too bad. Verity must have just gotten in from work though, which made him feel bad. Oh, how he missed the days when he had no shame and also no friends. “No thanks, I don’t want to throw up.”

“I thought alcohol didn’t affect you?”

“Human alcohol doesn’t.” He sat down on one of the tall swivel chairs at their counter and spun around. Ow, oh fuck, that wasn’t a good idea. He grimaced and placed his pounding head in his hands. “Lorelei and I spiked our drinks with something we got from Asgard.”

“Huh.” Verity sat opposite him, eggs piled onto the plate she set down in front of her. She’d cooked the yokes, the heathen. “Did you have a good time?”

Loki stared at her. “I feel like I’m being interrogated by my mother.”

“Oh honey,” she teased, grinning through a mouthful of eggs. “Oh sweetie. Wear protection!”

Loki dramatically re-enacted retching, and she choked on her eggs. A just punishment for her crimes, he thought.

“Ew,” he moaned. “I had to see Sigurd’s flat last night. It was disgusting.”

“I wasn’t being serious?” she stared at him. “I didn’t know you actually slept with-”

“Ew, ew, no,” he interrupted. “I was just detailing how he’s far too disgusting to ever consider as a sexual object. I would probably sleep with Lorelei though.”

“As if she’d sleep with you.”

“I’m forever alone!” he cried “Like the meme!”

“If you think referencing memes from 2008 is going to help you get laid-” she got up, pulled the dishwasher open and put her plate in without washing it off. Awful dishwasher etiquette, and Loki was from a place where they washed dishes with magic, so she had no excuse. “-then I think you might be beyond help.”

“I’m waiting for the right person,” he mumbled, squinting in the light streaming in from their egregiously large windows. “Like America. I ship America and myself.”

“America’s a lesbian,” Verity said.

“I’m a woman sometimes!” He got up and opened the fridge. “It’d be perfectly possible if she could tolerate me.”

“Which she can’t.”

“Yeah,” Loki said in faux-disappointment. “Ergo, forever alone, I’m mister lonely, involuntarily celibate, and sent to the friendzone.”

He shut the fridge, no bacon in sight, and stared at the front of it trying to consider his next move. He could head down to the store, but also he couldn’t, because he couldn’t imagine bringing himself to put on something other than the shorts he was currently in that said ‘BAD WITCH’ in bright green, metallic lettering on the back (a gift from Kate) and also he was pretty certain a drink had been poured on him the night before, judging by the smell of lager and the way his fringe had congealed into a hard point overnight. He wasn’t in any fit state to walk down the street. He had standards to maintain.

Yes, he was an illusionist, but he was a hungover illusionist with a headache, thus he opened up DoorDash and ordered McDonald’s.

“Vee?” he called down the hall. “Do you want anything from McDonald’s?”

“Ew,” she called back. “No.”

He placed his order and looked back up at the fridge. They had a shared calendar printed out on that kind of slippy photo paper so they could use whiteboard markers on it and make sure to not double book having people over. Last time it had happened, Verity’s cousin had to top-and-tail with Thor on the couch, which was a weird experience for everyone, but mostly for Daniel. Currently, the calendar was pretty sparse, since it was early April, but Verity had written something in for Sunday. ‘Easter - Mom’s House’.

He stared at it, confused. He didn’t turn when he heard Verity’s feet pattering back into the kitchen. “Hey, I didn’t know you were religious.”

“Huh?” Verity had flopped onto the couch and was fiddling with the remote control, probably trying to turn on Dr Phil. “Not really, what do you mean?”

“You’re going to your Mum’s for Easter?”

“Oh I guess.” The Judge Judy theme song streamed from the TV. Loki stood corrected. “I don’t believe in it or anything. It’s just tradition.”

“Huh.” He glanced out onto the street. It was lively. They were in pretty central Manhattan, and usually when you looked onto the road it was hard to see a part of the path that wasn’t covered in black throngs of city goers. He sometimes wondered where they were going, had they plans, or were they just wandering, aimless and free? Loki had always thought it would be night to wander off and see where his feet would take him if he didn’t walk with direction or intention. “Had an interesting conversation last night.”

“Yeah?” Verity responded mindlessly, staring at the TV.

“About religion. With a girl in the smoking area.”

“Dude.” Verity leaned over, effortlessly butch. “Conversations about religion in a smoking area? I’m putting my foot down. Either you download Grindr or find a therapist.”

“Both of those options are severely limited by the fact that I am a divine being and a world renowned criminal,” he replied. “Do you think guys on Grindr are into my evil vibes, actually?”

“Guys on Grindr are definitely into your evil vibes.”

“Thanks Verity,” he said, turning and heading towards the door. “You always have my back. Maybe I’ll find a bae after all.”

He grinned at her sounds of indignation and headed to his room to sleep his headache away.

Loki had always been rather a superior child. He had no need for childish matters of ‘bravery’ and ‘heroics’, instead favouring his intellect and insight. His mother said he was a bright young man, thank you. So he cared little about Thor informing him he was too small and weak to spar with him and his friends. However, he had in return let Thor know that he would be instead spending some time with his very close friends, who Thor did not have an acquaintance with and who thought Loki was very cool and interesting indeed. Thus, appearances had to be upheld.

He peered around the corner of the great, awning entrance to the Bifröst control room. Lord Heimdall had his back turned, but Loki was not a fool. A child, but not a fool.

“Your Highness,” the Watcher called out, turning to face him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He inched forward, the tips of his fingers trailing the chilly gold-plated walls of the gate. “I was bored,” he lied.

“Very well.” Heimdall set down the Key and sat heavily down onto its platform. “Would you be able to keep me company during my break?”

Loki lifted his chin, glanced around himself and headed to sit beside him. “I suppose I can grace you with my presence, for some time at least.”

“Have you a full schedule, your Highness?”

Anger and indignation built in his chest. Loki whipped around and scowled at him. “I’m very busy.”

Heimdall’s playful expression sunk with practiced ease into something serious. “My apologies. Of course you are, my prince.”

Loki crossed his arms. He knew that Lord Heimdall knew all his business, all of everyone’s business, but it struck him like a spear to his chest to have been mocked over his… lack of desirability. How dare he? Loki may be a boy, but he was his prince. It was not Heimdall’s place to mock him.

He struggled to think of something dignified to reply, and the pressure of the silence between them built into a garotte that tightened around his neck. He daren’t look at Heimdall, imagining a mocking grin staring down at him. It was unlikely, and would be utterly out of place on the man’s face, but Loki would rather avoid the possibility altogether.

“How is your brother, your Highness?” Heimdall said to break the silence.

In a fit of rage, Loki slammed his palm against the platform. His eyes watered with the pain of it. “Why does everyone only care about what Thor is doing? How Thor is? I am not a vessel through which people may be updated about my brother’s status!”

In his anger he’d turned to glare at Heimdall, and was horrified to find the man’s face transformed by pity. Loki scowled in disgust, and stared at the wall in the opposite direction.

“I did not mean to imply anything as such, your Highness,” Heimdall explained carefully. “I merely asked out of having nothing else very interesting to say. Perhaps I should have asked how you are?”

Loki hesitated, glanced back up. “I’m well,” he mumbled shortly.

“That’s good to hear,” Heimdall replied, staring ahead, out the gates and down the Bifröst. Loki wondered if he saw that which lay in front of him with more clarity, or if what his tangible eyes caught was nothing different to everything else he saw. “Is there anything in particular you would like to speak about?”

Loki was silent for a moment. A topic had been weighing on his mind, one he hesitated to bring to his mother. A heavy topic indeed. “Heimdall?” he asked. “Why am I destined to be a monster?”

It had been a burden to bear, acknowledging what was written upon the tapestries spun deep in Nornheim. When mother had first told him of his destiny years ago, it had seemed like a childhood game, but everyday the gravity of his situation held him just a little firmer to the ground. All has its place, his mother had told him, and your place is important. It is against you that others will shine.

It coloured everything he did, and how others treated him. Thor still loved him as a brother, but everyday his pride in his own journey grew and Loki could only stand and watch as he looked on his brother with a little more suspicion, held him at a slightly further distance. Loki’s cruelty had been encouraged, not in a direct way, but in the ways in which his parents and carers were cruel towards him. Like a knife being sharpened.

Heimdall did not move. “Everything has its duty. Our world is not much but an elaborate play, and we act according to our roles so that the other realms may live in our image.”

“But why me?” Loki pressed. “Why can’t I be the hero?”

Neither mentioned what lay between them. A man and a child and a destiny for two corpses, having slain one another, to lie in the middle of their world as it burned.

“I’m sorry, my prince,” Heimdall said quietly. “Perhaps take some relief in the fact that you needn’t worry over who you will be. The Midgardians in particular struggle with virtue.”

“Really?” Loki muttered, head in his hands. “Isn’t it very freeing for them?”

“Not as such,” he replied. “In return for their agency, they are burdened with the duty to be ever kind and charitable to one another, or be damned for their failure to do so. It's simpler for us. Our fate is predetermined, and while you may be the villain, you are doing your duty as such and can rest easy knowing that it is a moral and just thing for you to be.”

Loki was silent for a second, staring morosely ahead. “But I don’t want to be the villain.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Loki,” Heimdall replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But the tapestries have already been spun.”

The Allmothers, in their omnipowetful ability to be incredibly annoying, always called him when he was in the middle of doing things. In this case, a lovely girl named Amelia who had told him he looked like Timotheé Chalamet.

She screamed, causing Loki to whip around with a curse only to find Gaia staring at him through his mirror, disgust on her face and her right eye covered by Loki’s Blondie postcard that Verity had bought him from some emo shop.

Gritting his teeth, he looked down at Amelia, who seemed to be sinking into some form of shock. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m so fucking sorry. Uh, I kind of have to take this. Another time maybe?”

She looked up at him in speechless horror before turning quickly and climbing out from under him. Before he could even look up at her he heard the slam of the door. He glanced up. Huh, at least she’d taken her shirt with her. Loki was a feminist after all.

With a sigh, he turned to face Gaia. “My Lady!” He greeted with gritted teeth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She held his gaze for a few awkward seconds.

“Okay,” he said. “I would say, if anything it’s your fault that you decided to just turn up in my mirror without any prior warning. Really? You can’t expect me to be celibate. I’m Loki.”

She graced him with a performatively regal sigh and a significantly less regal eye roll. “The Allmothers have a task for you to complete, Loki.”

“Don’t you always?” He grumbled, pulling a hoodie on to cover up some of his nudity. Amelia may have only lost a shirt, but Loki was already down to his boxers. He was a feminist, after all.

“There is a great treasure in the belonging of one of our own, one who dwells in the realm of Midgard.”

“In English?”

The Allmother paused. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Your first language is the tongue of Jötunheim.”

“It’s just a-, it’s just a phrase, okay? Anyway, can you get to the crux of it? I was busy.”

“You aren’t busy anymore.”

He threw his arms out dramatically, making sure his irritation was painted clear on his face. “Thanks for that, by the way!”

“We would like-,” she continued, gathering her composure. “-for you to retrieve the ancient sword, Gram. It’s power is too great for us to allow it to remain out of our grasp. We have waited too long already, and time is of the essence.”

“Gram?” Loki asked. “You mean Sigurd’s sword?”

“The legendary sword Gram does indeed lie in the hands of the hero Sigurd-”

“But Sig loves his sword,” he interrupted. “He’s going to hate me if I take it for you. That’s narc behaviour.”

“This is your duty, Prince Loki, to your people,” Gaia said sternly. “You are, and have always been, a narc.”

“Hey, fuck you-”

She was gone in the next second, and Loki was left staring at his face in the mirror, and the way the skin underneath his eyes was grey and sunken, which made his eyes pop in a sort of consumption-chic. He looked a bit like Maleficent, he thought in an attempt to distract himself from the dread of the task that now lay before him and the inevitable broken friendship (he didn’t have many to break left).

But without all the milf energy. Loki didn’t have any milf energy, which was probably the source of most of his problems

Often, Loki found the easiest way to avoid all of his issues was to pretend he was a funny, quirky little guy living a funny, quirky little life. Oh Loki, he’s the token evil teammate, the funny comic relief in stories about other people, relegated to side character (but hot enough that all the fan art and fic was going to centre him). This allowed him to get away with his faults, which were many and numerous, by playing them off as the work of that darned scamp, Loki. This situation however, was one that worried Loki, as Sigurd was nothing if he wasn’t two things; 1) absolutely unenamoured by Loki and everything Loki had going for himself, and 2) in love with that fucking sword.

Loki sat down cross-legged on his bed and contemplated the choices he could make here. He could take the sword, and try to manipulate the situation to make Sigurd look like he was overreacting. Take the sword to the flat and mess around while he showed it to Verity. But, he knew, Verity wouldn’t play along, because her moral compass was ever on the straight and narrow and anyway, she’d know he was lying.

Lorelei would side with Sigurd over him, because she didn’t trust the Asgardian establishment and they all knew that the tentative little bit of control that let them languish in something resembling a real life on Midgard rested on Sigurd having enough power that Asgardia would rather leave him alone than bother. Losing Gram would put that in jeopardy, and Lorelei wouldn’t trade a shoelace for Loki, nevermind her happy ending. He knew well enough that this theft would be unjust, would put all of the power into the hands of the already powerful. He knew this, and he knew that Sig and Lorelei? Wouldn’t hurt a fly, really. For all the three of them pretended to hate each other, Loki knew they were good people, and they just wanted to live their lives in peace.

He could simply refuse. Not take the sword, let the Allmothers deal with it some other way. He could say it was above his pay grade, which it was.

Except, he couldn’t. Not really. He had duties that Sigurd and Lorelei couldn’t possibly understand. That idea couldn’t push its way forward from the back of his mind, as if constrained by something, writhing back and forth to break free. Or was it? Or was that an excuse, a claim to someone that he was trying, still, to do the right thing, and that it wasn’t his fault when he failed to.

He sighed, and stood up. His wardrobe was a mess, but it was an organised mess, and anyway it was a bright, sunny day outside and he could find his dragon scale armour easily from the way it glinted in the light at the back of his slogan t-shirts.

Sig had moved all the dirty washing from his desk chair. Loki didn’t have high hopes that it was for any reason other than playing PC games though. Sig was really into, like, Call of Duty and Halo. Were they PC? Loki didn’t know. He preferred superior gaming experiences, like Professor Layton.

Lo and behold, Loki found the mysteriously disappeared dirty clothing on Sig’s couch. For a guy whose feats and adventures were written down in legend, he really had some drab taste in furnishings.

Loki moved silently through the flat, letting just a little bit of his seidr seep into his steps to cushion the noise. He didn’t turn on any lights, instead relying on a little bit of patience to let his eyes adjust to the dark. His Jotunn heritage, dare he say it, came in handy at times like this due to the Jotnär having pretty decent night vision. This was in order to do crimes and eat children, his nursemaid had informed him when he was small. Well, Loki was doing crimes, but the jury was out on the eating children bit.

Loki was an expert catburglar, tales of his stealthiness were scribbled on the walls of ancient Midgardian caves, the remnants of long extinct societies, all of which he had outlived. Thus, he cleverly noticed the Guitar Hero™ plastic guitar and stepped over it.

Loki knew one thing about Sigurd. He was paranoid. Thus, Loki had a suspicion about where he would put Gram, and if he was correct he knew this job wouldn’t be easy.

He eased open the bedroom door, and watched as the hero of the stories he had been told as a babe snored while laying on his front. Huh, great ass.

Loki mentally smacked himself. Bad!

His attention was then quickly snatched by the gleaming sword that lay against the left bedpost. Ding ding, we have a winner! Sigurd both expected his sword to be stolen and expected to have to fight off home invaders, and so he kept his greatest asset (other than his ass) right next to him in his most vulnerable times. Loki was his worst nightmare, well usually, but even more so at this moment.

He crept forward, stepping carefully over strewn clothes. Wait, was that Lorelei’s blouse? Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that. He’d much rather they remain entirely celibate in his mind.

Loki crept closer, and reached out to grasp the hilt of the sword silently.

“...What the fuck? Loki?”

He should have run, probably. Teleported, gone invisible, maybe should have even jumped through the window. That might have thrown Sigurd off the scent right? Prince Loki, God of Trickery and Harbinger of Ragnarök wouldn’t have just leapt through a window. Well, the window was seventeen floors up actually, so maybe a regular burglar wouldn’t have either.

Anyway, what happened was he stood stock still, unable to move a muscle or turn to face Sigurd, as if he were labouring under the delusion that Sigurd was a creature that tracked prey by movement. He looked like something out of Looney Tunes, which wasn’t fantastic for his dignity.

“Loki,” Sigurd snapped again.

He turned, and winced at the look of outrage on his friend’s face. Sigurd was sat up on his elbow, his other arm on his comforter. He looked like he was ready to attack someone. Loki was pretty sure he hadn’t expected it to be - well, Loki.

“What the fuck were you doing?” he said. “Were you stealing Gram? Why? For who?”

Ouch, that hurt. He may have been stealing it for someone else, but it was a bit upsetting that Sigurd had immediately disregarded the idea he was working in his own interest.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. “The Allmothers send their regards,” he finally admitted drily.

If anything, Sigurd’s outrage grew. “How- How could you?”

A bit dramatic, Loki thought. Sigurd leapt out of his bed, and Loki didn’t have the chance to step back before his shoulders were in Sigurd’s bruising grip and his back pushed hard against the wall. “You know what this means,” Sigurd said, his disgust evident. “You aren’t stupid, Loki. You know what you’re doing.”

Oh, that was it, wasn’t it? Loki wasn’t evil because he did evil things. He was evil because he knew they were wrong before he did them, and he did them anyway.

“I have to,” he mumbled weakly. Was that a lie? Verity would know. “I have no choice.”

“Yes you do,” Sigurd said, releasing his grip and stepping back, “Yes you do, you’re just too much of a coward to admit it. You’re so desperate to play happy families. I can see it in you, and so can Lorelei. All you want is to be useful to people, even if it’s for the Allmothers, who treat you like shit. You do their fucking dirty work and they kick you around and you love it, because you get to be part of their rotten little story.”

Loki stared at him, suddenly feeling utterly, entirely tired beyond belief. Sigurd could not tell him anything that he did not tell himself.

“You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward who does everything the Allmothers ask of you. One moment you sneer at them up there, in Asgard, and pretend that you and me and Lorelei are all in the same boat, but the next moment you bare your neck to them. One day they’re going to ask you to hurt someone you really care about, and you know what? You’ll do it. They’ll ask you to hurt Thor, or Verity, and you’ll do it without a second thought because you’re a coward, Loki, and you always will be.”

His breath caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t hurt Verity.”

“Yes, you would. If someone put it on a tapestry you’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.”

“I see, well,” he paused, looked to his right to avoid Sigurd’s gaze. “I��ll let you get back to sleep I suppose.”

Sigurd reached out to grab him, but he was gone before he had a chance.

—

Received FRI 2:08

Verity: hey u coming back tonight or what

Verity: im assuming ur working

Verity: if u are there’s leftover pasta bake in the fridge. Ik you hate leftovers but its on offer. Im off to bed, night!

Received FRI 11:02

Verity: hey called lorelei to check in on you and she says you and sig aren’t talking. She didnt seem thrilled w you either. U ok?

Verity: call me if you get the chance ok

Received MON 15:47

Verity: yh ok this is cringe but please call. Im worried

Verity: you usually lmk when youre gone this long and sig was being suspicious

Verity: i asked him if hed seen you and he like laughed

Verity: idk maybe hed be more concerned if something had happened but u guys dont exactly have a normal expectation for health and safety in the workplace

Received WED 23:21

Verity: please call i’m worried

Verity: please

Received THU 18:54

Verity: you’re a fucking idiot

Verity: I hate you

Received THU 19:02

Verity: i didn’t mean that

Verity: sorry.

Verity: please do call. please

Verity wasn’t the only one texting him, which would have done wonders for his ego if it had been anywhere near still intact, but she was the only one who’s texts he kept re reading, scanning them obsessively and trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

The thing that nagged him though, was how would he know what the right thing was?

All his life, the right thing was whatever was in stride with where he was determined to end up. The path had been laid out for him - all he had to do was walk it. But, though the Norns had written out his beginning, his end, his great misdeeds and stories, they hadn’t written about things like whether he should get KFC or not, whether he’d be good at Mario Party or what dog breed was his favourite (alsatian). They had never had the name Verity Lewis brush their lips.

Because this world was untethered. It simply wasn’t important enough for the Norns to have seen. Did that mean that they were free, here? Was that bad or good? To Loki, who despite everything had spent an eternity comfortable in the knowledge that he knew what would happen, and that the future was clear to him as long as he could stand in the halls he’d grown up in and stare at the tapestries on the walls, the idea of absolute undetermined fate was deeply terrifying. It caught in his throat, wrapped around his heart, squeezed the warmth out of his chest.

But Sigurd was right, and so he had a decision to make.

There were people walking around under him, where he sat perched on the roof of a Soviet era apartment building in Brno. They didn’t know what would happen to them, how many kids they’d have, whether they’d marry or how they’d die. They didn’t know any of that, and that meant they could decide.

Huh.

He stumbled when he flashed in, and his hand reached out steady himself against the wall. The lights were off, but after a couple of seconds he heard a slight clutter from Verity’s room. Taking a deep breath he made his way to the kitchen and sat down at the bar. He didn’t bother to switch the light on, instead just collapsed into the chair and placed his head in his hands.

The lights switched on. “Loki?”

He peeked at her from between his fingers. Verity stared at him as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to be angry or happy. She was squinting (she wasn’t wearing glasses - she must have been asleep). He must have looked suitably miserable because instead of launching into a tirade she narrowed her eyes and slowly moved to sit opposite him, as if trying to tame some vicious creature. Apt, perhaps.

Their silence hung very heavily. “I’m sorry,” Loki eventually said, mortified to hear a crack in his voice from disuse.

She watched him carefully. “I forgive you,” she replied. Not ‘it’s okay’, because Verity found lying, even unconsciously, very difficult. “Can you tell me what’s up?”

By ‘can’, Loki knew that Verity was asking as if this was something related to his work for the Allmothers, but he found that even though this wasn’t any secret mission detail he was forbidden from sharing, he still found it hard to describe.

“I mean,” he muttered, breaking away from her stare. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Wherever you want to?”

He swallowed. “I had to steal something from Sigurd. Gram-” She opened her mouth and he jerked his shoulders defensively. “Please let me just explain. The Allmothers asked me too. I knew that if I did it it would put Sig and Lorelei’s relative safety at a significant risk. But,” he paused, bit his lip, horrified by the lump in his throat. “Even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do, and that all of you, all of my friends, would think less of me because of it, I had to do it. I had to do it because if I don’t do things that are wrong, that are bad, I am not filling the role that I am set out to fill, that I have always been set out to fill.

“There are tapestries, in Asgard,” he explained, a wobble entering his tone. “They’ve been there since before me, before my parents, before anyone. They were woven by the Norns, who see all of the past, the present and the future. They were woven so that we, who will be images of all the people of the Nine Realms and who will serve as a reflection of their large and varied communion, could know where we fit and what roles we are to play. And I’m a villain, Verity. I am the bad guy, because someone has got to be. There are people who actively choose to be bad and evil and selfish all over the shop, and someone has to represent them in the grand scheme of things. And, mainly, I have to keep everyone’s hands clean by making mine dirty.”

Her hands reached steadily out, grabbed one of his and held it between them. They were tears threatening to fall now, and they choked up his voice.

“So I do what the Allmothers ask me to, and I antagonise Thor, and I play my part as the bad guy of the story so that one day that story may be told to children as they are tucked into bed, so that they know that immorality causes you nothing but strife. I am supposed to have that strife, and through this my immorality is good and right, because I am an example.”

He paused. “Sigurd said I would hurt you, if they asked me to.”

“Would you?” she asked.

A second passed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d rather not risk it, but I thought you at least deserved an explanation for my sudden disappearance.”

She leaned back then, stared out their windows and onto the road beneath them, still busy despite the hour. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Dare I ask?” he chuckled wetly.

Her voice was firm. “I think that’s bullshit. I know you’re telling the truth, that you might hurt me if your Moms asked you. But I think you don’t know that that’s not true, which is why it’s registering as right to me.”

He squinted at her in confusion.

“You believe it,” she explained. “Which is why it’s registering as true to me. But that doesn’t mean you would, it just means you don’t think you’re a good person, and that’s not news.

“You see yourself as some kind of cut-out character with one trait, a yin to Thor’s yang or some shit, but you only think that’s all real because people have told you it is. Who’s to say those tapestries are anything? I think that you - all of you Asgardians - are terrified of being unmoored, so you make up shit like this so that you don’t have to grapple with morality.”

He tried to interrupt, but Verity continued. “You’re all terrified of life, so you pretend it’s one big play you’re putting on for our benefit, with roles and lines so that you needn’t make ‘em up. But you know what? Why don’t you just try? Try to improvise. Break away from it all. Maybe those tapestries do mean something, but maybe they just come true because you all keep doing what they say.

“You’re not the bad guy in a play, Loki,” she told him, her voice full of emotion and her hand rubbing his. It was just enough to keep him tethered to reality, he thought. “You’re my friend. You’re funny, and flippant. You don’t like to talk about your emotions. You don’t have great self-esteem and you kick ass at Jenga. You’re playing a part, but you know the thing about actors? They have lives when they get off the stage, and you could too.”

His boots echoed across the ground as he climbed the short hill to his destination. It was dust, not dirt, that he trod on, and the air was stale and cloyed in his lungs. It was the kind of air that felt like it didn’t blow, but just hung in the air for eternity, older than you by indescribable amounts.

No one went here. It was unplottable by some working laid down long before even the beginning of Asgardian history. It had taken Loki four days to crack, because 1) he’d spent all of his non-eating, non-sleeping time in the last couple of days focused on it, 2) he’d already made a groundwork as a teenager before his mother had told him off for meddling in things he shouldn’t have been and 3) he was pretty fucking good. Really, the only reason he hadn’t touched it before was because as he became a man, he grew to respect the Norns. Things had changed.

“Hello!” he called, not surprised to find the three women staring at him, likely well aware of his arrival for at least eternity, or something.

“Liesmith,” Lady Verdandi spoke in a low, powerful voice. “You have come to rattle the chains that you feel resting upon your shoulders.”

“Yep,” he responded, popping the ‘p’.

“These chains,” Skuld said in a tight voice. “Are imaginary.”

“No actually,” he said, beginning to pace around the room. “You see, I don’t really care if they’re ‘imaginary’ or whatever. I actually am just here to let you know that I’m just going to be kind of doing my own thing from now on.”

“Your ‘own thing’?” Urd sneered. “ You do not have your ‘own thing’. The fate we have laid out for you is everything you are.”

“Everything I am is just a mask. A mask that you put on me!”

“Oh? That implies something on which a mask can be put. Is there anything under your mask, Loki? Do you even know?”

“Well, I guess I’m going to find out,” he ground out. They were sat down, staring up at him, and he felt unnervingly like he was still a child who had been summoned to his father’s study to receive an admonishment for troublemaking.

“You will find out,” Verdandi explained calmly. “That you are mistaken, and that you will play your part in the fate that will become and will end and will begin again, whether you try to fight against it or not.”

“So that’s it then?” Loki said softly, although his voice still echoed across the ancient walls that enclosed him. “There’s no path to grace for me. I’m your villainous fool, cast in this grand play so that your heroes may show their virtue in my vanquishment. I’m good when I’m bad, and I’m bad when I’m good.”

He paused, and stared her down.

“Well, I’m afraid I’d rather be bad on my own terms, actually.”

Verdandi had opened her mouth to say something else, probably something even more patronising, but before she had the chance Loki had stepped between reality and left Nornheim and its frigid, stale air behind him.

“Saw you coming,” the Watcher said when Loki stepped out in front of him.

Loki smiled. “Naturally,”

Heimdall sat tiredly on the Bifröst’s lock. Loki noticed with a sort of jolt that Heimdall was getting old. Maybe they all were. “What is it you would like from me, my prince?”

“Oh nothing really,” he answered. “I just thought I should let someone know that I will be unable to complete the most recent mission that the Allmothers have given me. In fact, perhaps you could let them know that I’m putting in my two week’s notice, so to speak? Although I’m not really giving them any notice, let alone two weeks.”

“Oh? Might I ask what has brought this on, your highness?”

Loki crossed his arms. “I’m trying this new thing called ‘making your own destiny’. All the cool kids are doing it.”

Heimdall nodded. He wouldn’t have been able to have viewed Loki’s conversation with the Norns, but he would have seen what Verity had said. “I wish you luck, dear child,” he said softly.

Loki’s smile turned quiet and genuine for just a moment, before he turned away and took a few steps. Wait! He had something else to mention.

He looked back at Heimdall.

“By the way, maybe I am going to kill you someday,” he said. “”But I promise that I’m going to try my damndest not to.”

With that, he stepped back into New York, and headed towards Dominoes to pick up their pizza. They were doing movie night, he and Verity. They were going to watch Legally Blonde. Loki thought about - What was her name? Susie? Sarah? He thought maybe she was right, in the end. Maybe it was a gift to believe in what can’t be seen, and thus a gift to follow darkened paths. But the path that brought him home felt warm and reliable, just like it always did.

#this is nothing #really its just an attempt to see if i can write something 5k+#so its not good #but hey #loki #loki agent of asgard #agent of asgard #verity lewis #loki fic

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aidemint · 4 years

Text

𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 - 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

Word Count: 1763

Warnings: None!

At night when the stars

Light up my room

The warm evening sheen was broken through by pinpricks of light in the sky above. A previously orange and red-streaked skyline had been enshrouded by a mass of cumulonimbus and replaced with a dark lavender color. The wonders the night held came out to play as thousands of stars glittered overhead and the large, yellow moon revealed itself, perched just beyond a small cluster of clouds.

As the wind rustled the treetops and sent the birds fluttering up into the velvet horizon, the melancholic sound of crickets chirped through the air, filling the atmosphere with blithe indifference. I could feel the spirits of those in the estate relax, as the covert nuance that was the joyousness we all radiated calmed our aggressive souls and tamed them into happy pups.

It was funny how much tedium such a wonderful setting could bring me.

When the world was asleep, I was awake.

My footsteps made no sound on the soft grass as I crept towards a small pond in the estate. As the tips of my toes touched the ground, tickled by the lawn, my chest rose and fell at a slow tempo. The quietness that enveloped the night was comforting, yet I felt dissonance rise in my mind. Perhaps it was because the magnitude of sound my thoughts held created an imbalance in the would-be perfect moment.

Arriving at the edge of the pond, I stared down into the silvery liquid, watching as its surface gently rippled as a small breeze blew through the air. It tousled my hair ever so gingerly, making waves of my locks. Moonshine glinted on the body of water, causing it to sparkle like never before. My irises reflected the image of the stars that were imprinted onto the pond, shining so magnificently that someone could mistake them for tiny lanterns in the midst of complete darkness. Tilting my head up towards the sky, the edges of my lips started to curl upwards as I caught sight of the wonders that littered space’s being.

It was a beautiful thing.

But why weren’t any emotions stirring within me?

I sit by myself

Talking to the moon

Heaving a heavy sigh, the smile slowly melted off of my face after I blinked a couple of times. I felt conflicted. There was always this odd feeling that would curtail any positive emotion I had. A certain emptiness would overtake me and I would be left feeling hollow. It happened so frequently that I was just a baby step away from thinking that being happy would be an atrophy. If I couldn’t feel the bubbly sensation in my stomach, or feel butterflies flapping their light wings in my heart, what was the point?

It wouldn’t last, anyways. The emotion was so ephemeral, that I saw no point in even feeling that way in the first place. Of course, I could’ve just pretended that I was carefree or untroubled, but that was perfunctory, and it also had no purpose.

Perhaps I was rambling. Maybe it didn’t matter all too much. When I didn’t even know the reason for this strange phenomenon, I shouldn’t have dwelled on it for so long. It could’ve been a sign from the universe for me to direct my attention to something other than irrelevant and silly matters. Giving a soft groan, my eyes flickered down to the water again. The light that came from it now had a banal glow, as clouds had set over the moon, obstructing it from my view.

Ah, of course. What was I hoping for?

My shoulders sank and I finally took a seat on the ground. If only I had the will to ruminate about these matters instead of directly accepting them without a second thought, there would’ve been the possibility that all these problems I had would be solved. But even though I had no foresight into the future, I knew that my nature wouldn’t change. I was never the receptive type. There was no hope.

I was so blind.

So I began to cry.

Fat droplets of water rolled down the sides of my face, dripping down my chin as tears spouted from my eyes. They made their journey from the corners of my eyelids to the bottom of my cheeks, trickling further from their origin, and closer to the ground. My skin flushed and became hot to the touch and my arms shook, hands curled up into little fists. Not once did I falter, or abstain from the actions my brain was feeding my body, but I soon realized that despite my physical reactions, there was no turmoil boiling inside of me.

Through all of this, I made no attempt to wipe my tears away, or furrow my brows. Tears just started to leak and pour down my face at random. I didn’t curse at my own pestilence or weakness, nor did I begin to feel exasperated at my lack of stability. The only effect of crying I could truly feel was the sensation of my stamina being drained.

What was the purpose? What was the reason?

Was I crying just to cry, or was I feeling something else? Did I want to fight it?

But no matter how hard I thought, I could only accept the outcome in the end.

Like an idiot.

Tryin' to get to you

In hopes you're on

The other side

Talking to me too

My ears perked up as soon as I felt a figure approaching, but I didn’t look at who it was.

I knew already.

His sudden presence seemed repugnant. Of course, I couldn’t hear his footsteps, but I could sense him -- him and all of his brooding. As he took a seat next to me, I turned my head away with my gaze downcast. The moment had turned a lot more misgiving than I initially hoped it would be. I wished to be alone, but at the same time I would’ve stopped him if he had stood up again.

Why were my own emotions an enigma, even to me?

“I had a feeling you would be here.” I hated the feeling of his eyes bearing into the back of my skull. “You weren’t at dinner.” Though my heart filled with disdain and I lacked effusiveness to respond, I sighed and somehow managed to reply.

“I wanted to be left alone.” The figure besides me kept staring as if I were some odd, alien creature that had just crawled out of a shell. My teeth tugged at my bottom lip as I grew more and more aware of the fact that he’d figured out my lie. Willing myself to take a deep breath and look back at him, my earnest eyes met his dull ones and I forced a smile. As my heart hurt and throbbed painfully in my chest, I smiled with all the courage I could muster.

“I just wanted to be left alone,” I repeated. It sounded like I wanted to convince even myself that this whole scene had nothing to do with the fact that I was empty inside. There was something forlorn about the way I twiddled my fingers, and pitiful about the way my eyes were half-lidded.

But of course, I’d already accepted this long ago, as I did with everything horrible that came my way. Maybe it was because I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. If I hadn’t been so empty inside, things would have turned out differently. I wouldn’t be this ghost of a person, bound to the Earth by their physical form. These situations wouldn’t be so poignant and pernicious to my mind.

When I lifted my gaze after a few moments of thinking, I was met with faded blue eyes. His eyes. His dark navy irises that held a firm resolution about them -- yet I knew that in his mind there were so many swirling thoughts that it was nearly impossible to cherry-pick one of them from the mess that was the pileup. I tentatively returned his stare, feeling just a little bit meeker in his presence.

“I want to be left alone,” I whispered, “Please, leave me alone.” Yet the figure never left. His azurlean eyes kept themselves trained on me like a hawk, almost to the point where it seemed that he seemed sympathetic. My hand trembled and I finally broke the staredown, vehemently huffing and twisting my head away. The hashira next to me relaxed a bit, his posture growing less stiff and unwelcoming. He wrapped his fingers around mine and gave a small, sad, sigh.

Or am I a fool

Who sits alone

Talking to the moon

“No you don’t.”

Then Giyuu leaned in and pressed his lips against mine.

I felt butterflies.

I felt his free hand brush the side of my cheek, cupping it in his palm as we kissed. My skin flared with a bright red hue, almost unnoticeable in the pale moonlight, but it was hot to the touch, which collided with the cold feel of Giyuu’s fingertips. His lips captured mine and all was well in the world. His hand tightened around mine and he pulled me closer to deepen our lip-lock.

I could taste the regret that lingered on his tongue.

But it didn’t stop me from loving him.

Once we separated, we embraced each other like we were living our last days on Earth.

His arms wrapped around my shoulders and his lips whispered honey-coated words into my ears. And all I could do was accept it just how it was. I wanted to scream and cry, then sob for forever into the sleeve of his kimono. His actions were so sincere I could pound my fists into his backside and protest at how disgusting they were.

I was a mess. A horrid mess.

I didn’t know what my thought process was, and I hated myself for that.

But it seemed as if I didn’t need one with Giyuu.

Because he was here when I was empty. He came and he filled my soul with yellow carnations and the sweetest smelling lavender. The bees and butterflies feasted on the blooms every so happily, their iridescent wings fluttering inside my heart.

So this was the way he made me feel.

Perhaps he could give me some form of absolution.

I laughed with a shaky smile and buried my face into the crook of his neck.

“I missed you.” Giyuu patted the back of my head and sighed softly.

“I know.”

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu #giyuu tomioka #anime #oneshot #imagine #talking to the moon

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do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them · 5 years

Text

Til the End of the Night / Ch4: In which Virgil and large crowds of people do not get along

Previous / Masterpost / Next

Summary: Patton and Virgil explore the town of Deercross. It goes mostly as planned, until it doesn't.

Warnings: sensory overload, panic kinda, allusion to deceit, and Sword Threats

A/N: is that a sleep cameo? yes. yes it is

Read on AO3

Patton pulled Virgil outside and into a bright, sunny morning. They had to take a minute to adjust after the low lighting of the inn. Well, Virgil did, at least- Patton just bounced on his toes and looked around, eyes constantly darting from one thing to another as he waited for Virgil to stop shading his eyes with his free hand and glaring through it in the general direction of the sun. Patton wanted to see everything, so he didn’t particularly mind starting with the café that Virgil, as soon as he could see again, announced that they were going into right now, because he was going to murder someone if he didn’t get some caffeine in his system. That statement did not help with the weird looks he felt like he was getting, but hey, if people were scared of him they at least might not question his appearance out loud.

Virgil wanted to grab them a table and let Patton handle the talking alone, but they were both at the counter before he could actually say so. He settled for definitely-not-hiding behind his more outgoing friend and letting him order first. If only he would make a freakin’ decision.

“Virgil Virgil Virgil look!”

“I’m looking. It’s basically just the Starbucks menu, are you gonna pick something or not?”

“No no, look here!” He pointed to a section at the bottom that Virgil hadn’t previously noticed. “They have magic drinks! Should I get one? I’m gonna get one.”

“If you want. They look kinda gross, but I won’t stop you.” Virgil thought it was too early in the morning for this much enthusiasm, or any, actually, but he did live with both Patton and Roman on a day-to-day basis, so it was at least a familiar sort of headache. And, he would admit, a somewhat endearing one.

“Okay, okay, so-” Patton stood on his toes and leaned his hands on the counter as if the extra inch of height would let him read the signs on the wall better. “I want that one, y’know, the sparkly thing with all the colors?”

“Gotcha,” the barista responded, not bothering to correct him on what it was called. Life was too short to care about the names of imaginary coffees. “That’s a very popular one. We get the ingredients from the Fae Forest, you know,” he said conversationally as he made the drink. It was, indeed, very colorful and sparkly. It was also glowing.

“Really? What’s that?”

The barista looked surprised, which Patton should have considered an accomplishment. “Are you serious? The road out of town runs right by the edge of the forest, how have you not seen it?”

Patton shrugged. “We came from the other direction.”

“Oh.” He knew there was no road in the other direction, but again, life was too short to care. “Well, if you really don’t know, it’s a huge forest full of magical creatures. I’ve heard about a lot of weird stuff happening in there, especially at night. Seen some of it, too.” He slid Patton’s magical coffee across the counter to him. “Nothing too dangerous, but if you decide to give it a look I’d recommend staying on the path. Now, what do you want, or are you just gonna stand there looking shady?”

Virgil was caught off-guard too severely to register that he should be offended. “Oh, uh- just a black coffee.” He couldn’t stand the taste of black coffee, which was exactly why he drank it to wake up.

“Boring.”

Virgil made a face. “Your mom is boring.”

“Virgil,” Patton chided. The barista waited until he was distracted by the menu again to turn and stick his tongue out in response.

Something here seemed weird to Virgil, but then again, something always seemed weird to Virgil. He brushed it off and dug out a handful of coins. “Tell me which of these to give you, ‘cause somebody explained it yesterday and yet I still have no idea.”

“...Um.” The barista gave the coins a “yikes” sort of look and awkwardly touched his face in a way reminiscent of what Logan did when he forgot he didn’t have his glasses on. “You know what, on the house this time,” he said quickly, pushing Virgil’s hand away.

“Oh, thank you so much!” Patton scooped up his drink with a bright smile. Virgil was going to ask some more questions, like do you actually know how this money works any more than I do and why does a modern coffeeshop even exist in this fantasy world, but they were out the door again before he could do more than shoot the guy a suspicious look.

“Patton, for- how am I supposed to drink this if you won’t let me stand still for two seconds?”

“Oh! Sorry.” Patton slowed, and Virgil took a long sip of his terrible gross drink, trying not to make a face. “Forgot yours doesn’t have a straw. Honestly, I know you don’t even like that, do you want some of mine?”

Virgil eyed it suspiciously and shook his head. “It looks radioactive, I’m not putting that in my body. I’m just gonna…” He downed as much of his coffee as he could at once, grimaced, and threw the rest away. “Yeah, I think I’m awake now. Where are we going?”

Where they were going, evidently, was into every shop on the street. They ended up with pastries for breakfast, a few cute little trinkets each on Patton’s insistence, and some extra supplies they might eventually need on Virgil’s. And of course, Patton had to talk to everyone. It was admittedly helpful- they knew now that they would, as they’d suspected, need to go through the mysterious forest to get to Roman- but jeez, all the talking, Virgil was about ready to hide in a dark room for the rest of his life. One person wouldn’t let him in because he looked suspicious or whatever, which, honestly, he was surprised it only happened once. Between all that and the fact that he couldn’t seem to avoid constantly bumping into people on the busier streets even though Patton was doing just fine, and they seemed to think he was doing it on purpose, he was getting close to his limit.

But then they went around a corner and found the market. It was an entire double-wide street lined with vendor’s carts of all kinds- bustling with people, of course. Patton’s eyes lit up immediately, while Virgil’s instinct was to cringe.

“Okay so I know you’re tired, so if you don’t wanna do this that’s okay, you can wait here and I’ll just go by myself and--”

“Nope.” Virgil pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on. There was no possible future where he watched Patton disappear into that mess and didn’t panic. “I’ll come, just- this has to be the last thing we do, okay?” He was pretty sure he could make it through one last crowded area as long as he knew they were going back for a nap immediately afterward.

“Okay!” Patton grinned, clearly glad he’d decided to go along, and tugged him into the chaos of the market.

Virgil quickly realized he’d made a mistake. Several mistakes, actually. He should not have gotten Patton a coffee earlier, because his best friend was not a man who needed any more energy than he already had. He should not have gotten himself a coffee earlier, because the caffeine only ever made him more jittery and nervous and he knew this and yet he always ended up drinking it anyway. And he absolutely should not have agreed to come and check out the market.

He had never- no, nobody on earth had ever had this bad of a headache before, probably. There were so many people yelling so many different things over each other, and basically every kind of loud noise in existence, and the sun was really bright still, and if he thought the regular streets were hard to navigate, well, he probably should have taken that as a sign not to go into an even busier one. With all the widely varied food vendors, even his sense of smell was being assaulted. If one more person brushed up against him he was gonna snap. Yeah, no, he needed to get out of here right now, it was stupid that he’d ever assumed he would be good for it.

Patton took the first tug on his hand as just Virgil having trouble navigating the crowd again, and slowed down a little to make it easier for him to keep up. Normally he would look back to check on him, but if he did that now he’d run right into somebody for sure! The next one, though, was hard enough to make him stop and turn around, letting the flow of people part on either side of him. Virgil wasn’t quite looking at him so much as just to the left of his head. He seemed really tense. The hand that wasn’t in Patton’s was clenched in his pocket, the hood of his jacket was up, and his jaw was tight.

“Virgil? You, uh, you okay, kiddo?”

Virgil shook his head and jerked his hand away so he could cross his arms, tapping his fingers on his elbow in agitation. “This is- too much,” he managed. Patton strained to hear him over the noise of the market. “Just- loud and bright and- people,” he explained with a slightly disgusted tone.

“If you don’t wanna be here anymore we can leave,” Patton assured him. He went to squeeze Virgil’s shoulder before remembering that would probably just make things worse right now. “Just keep close behind me if you can’t deal with my hand, okay? Wouldn’t want either of us getting lost!”

Virgil nodded impatiently, taking a small step toward him so as to demonstrate that he would stay close. Patton made another aborted move to touch him and grabbed his own wrist to make himself stop doing that. Personal space hadn’t really been in his vocabulary before he started spending more time with Virgil, okay, this was actually progress. He offered a sympathetic look instead, then turned and started forging a path through the chaos in the direction of the nearest side street, keeping up a constant stream of “sorry!” and “excuse me!” under his breath.

People were annoyed with Patton for pushing through against the flow of traffic, but he was at least apologizing, and anyway, he had the kind of face that made everyone who saw him think he was probably fundamentally incapable of ill intent. Virgil, following in his wake and knocking people even further off balance, had none of that going for him. He was just trying to make it to a quieter street without shutting down entirely, he did not have the mental energy to make sure no one was upset with him for briefly inconveniencing them. If he was lucky, no one would care enough to make a scene. Unfortunately for everyone involved, luck was not on his side.

Just as he was wondering if people were going to get mad at him, and debating the pros and cons of trying to get actual human words to come out of his mouth to keep that from happening, he knocked shoulders fairly hard with some guy trying to buy tomatoes. The guy dropped everything he was holding and swore, turning to glare at the inconsiderate moron who jolted him. Virgil didn’t look remorseful enough to keep him from getting pissed, apparently. “Watch it, jerkface,” tomato guy snapped, and gave him a shove in retaliation before starting to gather his fallen produce.

Virgil wasn’t caught off guard exactly, but he didn’t have much room to move, so the push sent him stumbling to the side and almost knocking over a few more people. “Sorry,” he forced out, even though that time was not his fault. He wasn’t sure anyone heard him either way. He got his footing back and looked around wildly. “Patton? Where’d you-? Patton, PATTON!”

Oh, no, no, no. Not the demonic voice thing, not now. Everyone was staring at him. The only silver lining was that one, people were at least giving him some space now, and two, Patton definitely heard that if he hadn’t very recently gone deaf. He slapped a hand over his mouth- voluntarily, for once- hoping to mitigate the damage. Everyone around was still watching him, just watching, and further back in the crowd there were whispers he couldn’t make out, but knew were about him. He didn’t dare speak again, even to defend himself. He was frozen in place by the thought that any move he made could be taken as a threat and get him killed. He could have cried from relief when he heard a familiar voice and caught a glimpse of blue moving his way.

“Excuse me, coming through, sorry, it’s- look I really am sorry for pushing okay but this is a little more important! Virgil! Virge, I’m so sorry I lost you, are you--” Patton shouldered past the circle of onlookers and gasped.

His soft, but stressed shadowling was covered in actual shadows. Scraps of darkness were flitting frantically around Virgil, concentrated at his feet and around his hands and arms. He didn’t seem to notice them. A few darted briefly in Patton’s direction before returning to the swarm, and he tried not to flinch. He took a cautious step forward, and saw people at the edge of his vision looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Virge, sweetie, I need you to stay calm…” He caught a panicked version of that twist Virgil’s mouth did when he was amused. “Oh, you know what I mean. Just, focus on me, okay, ignore everything else, that’s it…” Slowly, he advanced another step, holding his hands up in front of him like he was trying to calm a spooked horse. It even seemed to be working. Virgil’s posture was starting to open up ever so slightly. He felt good about the odds of no one getting hurt here, as long as nothing else went…

“Oi! You, in the black, don’t move! Don’t you know dark magic is forbidden in Deercross?!”

...wrong. Both their heads snapped toward the sound of town guards approaching with swords drawn and a lot of bluster. Patton couldn’t help feeling a pang of empathy for them- they must not get much trouble around here, they were probably scared and trying to hide it. He was much more worried, though, about Virgil, who was desperately looking for an escape route, shadows swirling faster than ever. There were no gaps in the crowd, though, not even for someone his size, he was trapped, and they were drawing closer as the desire to watch what happened next overpowered their fear. The jerky movements and darting eyes that should have clearly showed he was as scared as they were, if not more so, only fueled the people’s mutters, now loud enough for Patton to make out.

Dark magic.

Some sort of villain, no doubt.

Shouldn’t let his kind into town.

Evil.

Patton ran to try and intercept the three guards- this didn’t have to turn bad, he could still salvage the situation. “Wait, please!” he shouted over the noise. The guards didn’t seem to hear him, so he raised his voice a little more. “Let me explain, he wasn’t trying to hurt anybody, he would never, this is all a, a big misunderstanding--” They didn’t even acknowledge him, not even when he was right next to them. He grabbed one’s arm only to be shaken off. Desperately, he ducked under it and stood between them and Virgil, arms spread. “Would you just listen!” he screamed, tears pricking his eyes. “He’s not a villain, he’s my friend!”

“Stand aside,” one of the guards said to him, not unkindly. “I don’t know how this wizard managed to gain your trust, but I can tell you he is not truly your friend. Now, please, step aside, we don’t need innocents getting hurt.”

“No! I won’t--”

“Do it, Patton,” Virgil ground out. He couldn’t let Patton get hurt trying to protect him, that would be a whole new level of sucking at his job. Patton had no intention of obeying, yet found himself doing so anyway. That voice was scary, alright? Wait, no, he wasn’t scared of Virgil, that was ridiculous. Compelling, that was the word. His brain didn’t catch up with his body until he was standing at the edge of the circle.

He spun around and let out an involuntary sharp cry. Virgil was hunched in on himself, practically at the center of a dark vortex, his eyes wild and a hand pressed to his mouth. The guards were advancing on him cautiously, they still had swords out, they were going to hurt him oh god-

Several things happened at once.

Patton yelled incoherently and threw himself, yet again, at the nearest guard. The furthest guard from him made a grab for Virgil. Last and most importantly, there was a loud crackle of electricity. Everyone standing nearby was thrown forcefully back as a sphere six feet in diameter, made of something resembling black lightning, expanded out from Virgil in a fraction of a second.

Patton narrowly avoided cracking his head on the ground when he fell. “Oh, shoot,” he said with feeling. He pushed himself to his feet and ran up to the sphere, ignoring everything else. “Virgil!” He tried to bang on the forcefield with his palm, but it shocked him and he pulled back with a yelp. “Are you- can you hear me in there, kiddo? Virge?” An edge of panic was creeping into his voice. “What- what did you do? What is this?”

“Funny,” said a voice behind him, “I was going to ask you that question.” He turned around. Only one guard was standing, the other two having not yet recovered from the blast. That one, though, was plenty to worry about, because he had his sword pointed shakily at Patton’s chest.

Patton backed up until a warning static-like tingle told him he was about to bump into the sphere. “Okay, this, uh, this isn’t as bad as it might look,” he insisted, holding his hands up placatingly. “I- I can explain!”

The guard got his nerves under control and brought the sword up until the tip was no more than a few inches from Patton’s throat, holding it steady. “I certainly hope you can.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #my post #my writing #til the end of the night

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shall-we-imagine · 6 years

Text

You've changed. (Azusa KuzexReader)

Requested: 2. "Define normal." From the prompt list.

Genre: mostly comedy and just randomness but also some fluff

(Second Person Point of View)

"Well, clearly, you've never been to the fairies' world!" You argue, taking a few glances at the signs to ensure you don't miss the library.

"Listen; there's no way a little fairy is gonna win against a mermaid! That just makes no sense! A mermaid can literally lure you into your death!" He claims, using some light hand gestures to emphasize his point.

"Yes, but-" your statement was interrupted by Serge's cheerful voice.

"Guys! Come take a look at this!" He peeks his head outside of a classroom- an empty one, you assumed. He immediately drags you both inside and towards the professors' desk, which carried nothing but an ominous orb of pink and purple. It looked like something a fortune teller would own, and since this was Serge you're talking about, it didn't seem very surprising.

You were previously planning to head to the library with your boyfriend, Azusa, to prove to him the strength of fairies, even though it wasn't exactly necessary, but you felt the need to do it anyway. However, your trip was delayed by your pink haired friend. You could use that as one more proof, though, right? Serge certainly knew enough about fairies!

"Hey, Serge, quick question: In a hypothetical battle between a fairy and a mermaid, who would win?" You pop the question before he begins explaining the psychics' item he was presenting.

Serge being Serge, it took nothing to get him to discuss such a useless topic. "The fairy, of course!" He states.

"See?" You turn to face your boyfriend with a smug expression.

Azusa rolls his eyes. "Come on; this doesn't prove anyth-"

"It's only cuz you've never met a fairy!"

"Well, you've also never met a mermaid!"

"Hey..uh..guys, maybe you can finish that argument later? I have an invention to show you." He gestures to the bright globe.

Azusa sighs; you nudge him, giving Serge an enthusiastic sure! and waiting for the explanation. In all honesty, you were kinda curious about the invention, since all Serge's inventions are amazing; you just wanted to prove Azusa wrong first.

A proud -and slightly insane if you pay too much attention- grin spreads across the inventor's face, "Well! This little sphere can basically combine multiple people's strength and thoughts then portray it onto whoever is carrying it!"

Unsure what that's supposed to mean, you and Azusa merely stare with slightly tilted heads. Serge stares back in anticipation until he realizes you both understood nothing of what he explained.

"Okay, how about we try it? That'll explain it a bit better. (Y/N), do you wanna try it?" He offers.

You hesitate, but seeing the gleam in his eyes, you couldn't object. "Uh, yeah, why not?"

He twists the ball before handing it over to you, which resulted in it splitting right through the middle to show a plain, black strip underneath. "Okay, so first of all, you have to think of a range. So, like maybe think everyone in this room, okay?" Serge explains, as he hands you the invention, that was a lot lighter than you expected.

"Then Azusa and I have to think of a creature or something, while you press the ball together, then it combines our magic and thoughts to turn you into whatever we thought of, get it?"

You nod eagerly, and push the two parts of the sphere together the way Serge instructed.

It was a mistake.

Why? Well, first of all, you didn't even warn them beforehand, so they were both caught of guard. Second of all, someone walked in right as you were trying out the invention, which resulted in their inclusion in the range you thought of- everyone in this room.

You fell to the ground with a loud thump, accidentally letting go of the ball of troubles that went rolling towards the newcomer's foot. At first, you didn't understand why this transformation included you dropping to the ground, but it didn't take you too long to figure out. "What the fuck?!"

Azusa tries not to burst into laughter (he didn't try hard enough). Meanwhile, Serge stares at you, his index finger and thumb around his chin, "Maybe we should've agreed to think about one thing.."

"You should've considered that before trying it out on me!!" You complain.

Serge jumps to the defence of his precious invention, "I mean part of the invention is that it reaches common ground! Which it did! I thought of a fairy, and I guess Azusa thought of a mermaid...but why the bunny ears?"

The intruder walks closer, globe in hand. "I suppose that could be my fault?" Klaus hands Serge the sphere but keeps his confused and slightly horrified gaze on you. "It would've fit you well if it weren't for the other..modifications. Now, you're an actual bunnyhead." He adds, as if that helps in any way.

"Well, can't we just turn her back using the invention again?" Azusa, who seemed to be in a weirdly good mood, asked.

Just when you feel like there's a solution to your strange form, Serge frowns. "You can only use it once every forty minutes.."

You groan. "How bad does it look?" You could see the blue tail you'd grown where your legs used to be, and you could feel some scales all over your body, but you weren't sure what happened to your face. You hoped for nothing too weird, as you pull out a mirror from your backpack.

"I mean..It could pass off as normal if we exclude the tail?" Serge gives a nervous smile.

Blue hair. Pointed ears like an elf's. On top of your head were also another pair of ears- a bunny's. There were only a few scales on your face, but your skin had turned to a very light sky blue colour too, so there's that.

You bring the mirror down to squint at Serge, "Define normal."

"I mean people are usually not that attentive or sharp, to be fair." Klaus shrugs.

"I have blue skin! And two pairs of ears! And scales! You'd have to be blind not to notice that!" You snap.

"Why are you snapping at me?! Don't force me to give you extra assignments!" He warns.

You pretend to clear your throat, "uh, sorry. Forget that happened."

"It's important to mention that class begins in like.." Klaus glances at his watch, "ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?! What are we gonna do?!" You begin to panic. "Also, being dry makes me uncomfortable." Man, why are you acting like a real mermaid?

"Do you want me to take you to the lake?" Azusa teases, earning a glare from you.

"You guys need to hide somewhere until I figure out a way to reverse it...or the forty minutes are over.." Serge scratches the back of his head nervously.

"How are we even going to leave the classroom without attracting attention?"

Wrapped in both your own cloak and Azusa's cloak, you felt like you were imitating voldemort's look during the beginning of the goblet of fire. It wasn't the best feeling. The fact that Azusa had to carry you wasn't helping either.

"(Y/N)? Azusa? What's wrong? Why are you carrying her?" Elias stops you both, and you use all your power to pray he doesn't notice anything weird with your figure. Elias would be understanding, but let's just say; the less people that got to see your odd transformation, the better.

"Um..she hurt her leg." Azusa blurts out.

"What?! How?" Elias's voice was filled with concern, forcing you to feel guilty for the lie.

"D-don't worry about it; it's not bad! Azusa is just exaggerating!" You laugh nervously.

"Okay.." The blond male nods slowly, as if slightly suspicious, "why are you wrapped up like that?"

"I'm..I'm cold." You wanted to slap yourself for how bad your lies were turning out.

"Are those..bunny ears?" Elias points out the long, furry ears you'd pressed down underneath the hood of the cloak, in attempts to conceal it.

"It's..it's a costume!" You glance between Azusa and Elias in panic, silently asking your boyfriend for help.

"A costume? What for?" You love Elias; you really do, but at the moment, you just wish he'd stop asking so much questions.

"You don't wanna know." Azusa smirks, earning a bashful oh from the smaller boy, before proudly leaving with you in his arms.

"Really, Azusa?! Out of anything you could've said?!" You complain, fairly embarassed by his bold statement as well.

"I panicked." Shrugs a perfectly calm Azusa.

###

"How much longer do I have to wait?!" You groan, pulling at the hood of your cloak and pressing your second pair of ears further down.

"I don't know; it seems like we'll have to wait for the forty minutes to be over." He gives you a sympathetic smile, but that doesn't stop you from releasing a louder groan and dramatically lying back on the grass in defeat.

You hear a chuckle, directing your attention back to the male sitting opposite to you with crossed legs. "You know you actually look kind of cute like that; I'm considering keeping you from transforming back." He smirks.

"You wouldn't dare!" Your bunny ears push your hood back, taking a stiff, straight position towards the back of your head. It was supposed to show aggression, but it seemed to only look adorable to your boyfriend, who just burst into laughter.

"See? You're so cute." He speaks in utter awe, petting your head to further increase your displeasure.

"Hey! Don't make me get violent with you; I'll-" He connects his pink lips with your pale blue ones, interrupting your empty threat. You could feel your bunny ears relax and stay down near your face. You were glad his eyes were shut; otherwise, he would've once more burst into laughter at your inconveniences.

"Am I interrupting something?" The familiar voice of a person that indeed enjoyed interrupting happy moments for his sadistic pleasures- okay he wasn't so bad, but this was the best part of your day; come on!

"Uh..no?" You give an awkward smile, after you pull away from Azusa in a rush.

"Technically, the forty minutes are over. You're free, bunnyhead." Klaus chuckles, tossing you the troublesome sphere. You could clearly see how much more he's enjoying using that nickname. "Serge was so caught up in figuring out something to reverse it that he didn't notice the time was up anyway."

"Oh! Thank you!" You hold the globe with such relief. "Okay, Azusa think of my usual form!"

"Got it." He gives a thumbs up, signalling you to go on. You comply and once again press the ball together after twisting it the way Serge did earlier. This time your range was just one person- Azusa. This should go perfectly fine.

Your normal skin colour and hair colour were back! Also, no fish tail or scales! You get off the ground, cheering loudly. "Finally! I'm back!"

Klaus was giving you and Azusa confused looks. Azusa was yet again trying not to laugh. You paused, deciding your celebration should probably be delayed- something was definitely up.

"Are we supposed to tell her?" Klaus turns to Azusa.

"Nope."

"Tell her what?" You begin patting your face, trying to figure out what's off. Then you reached it. Those fucking bunny ears were still there. "Azusa!"

"Oops?" He smiles innocently. "You look extra adorable, though, and that's thanks to me." He defends.

"You're pure evil!"

"You know you love me." He states, a smirk decorating his lips.

You huff, trying to distract from your burning hot cheeks. "I do."

"I love you too." You somehow didn't notice until now, but his face was now a lot closer than before. His eyes were switching glances between your eyes and lips.

"You do know I'm still here, right?"

"Yeah, why are you still here?" Azusa rolls his eyes at the blond, reluctantly pulling away from you.

"Oh, yeah, my bad; let me just walk away with this." Klaus had apparently retrieved the orb and was now walking away with the only cure to your current state.

"Hey, Klaus! Klaus, wait!" You chase after the taller male that made it a point to walk faster and ignore your shouts.

Anyway, long story short: now the entire academy thinks you can make some very good, convincing costumes. How you wish that was the case..

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spikeisawesome456 · 5 years

Text

So... I decided to do all of these asks, because I was bored. :-D

Obscure Asks.

1. what’s your favorite way to dress? Uhh… Comfortably. I tend to just wear yoga pants, graphic t-shirts, and a Dipper hat.

2. if you could change anything about yourself, what would it be? Ohhh… I both want to say lots of things, and nothing. Because on one hand, there are things about me that annoy me (I overshare, I sometimes get insanely hyper, like now, I can be really mean/rude, etc.…), but on the other hand, I do enjoy who I am. For all my faults, I am proud of the person I’ve become, and the person I’m still becoming. Maybe I’d make my memory better, so I could really utilize my intelligence, and stop forgetting people’s names because it’s starting to get really rude.

3. what movie/game/etc. helps you calm down? Eh… I like to play Stardew Valley, but it doesn’t help me calm down. I play it when I’m calm. It actually used to stress me out… probably not a good example. Uh… Nothing, I guess. Music helps. Sometimes. Basically, when I’m stressed, the only thing that can help is solving the problem or ignoring the problem. And if I can’t ignore it, I just… get stressed. Hugging my mom sometimes helps.

4. what does your room smell like? Like… a room? It smells okay? It recently smells like Maple Cinnamon Pancakes, because I got a Maple Cinnamon Pancake candle from Bath and Body Works, so… yeah?

5. do you like to organize? Ehh… Like to, yes. Do I do it? Noooo….

6. what kind of music would you listen to if you could only choose one? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Why Would You Ask Me This???????????? Also I’m assuming this means genre. But… Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

7. what song is your aesthetic? Um… I don’t really know my Aesthetic? I’m a bit all over the place. Girly, tom boy, shiny, glittery, matte…. Fast, slow, everything in between and outside. If you know of a song like that, then that’s me! Otherwise… Eh.

8. what color do you think goes best with your personality? Uh… No idea. I like blue, though. I’m not that calm a person, though. Well, sometimes, but not always. Well, it depends on what you mean by calm. So… Probably purple, a mix between loud red/orange and cool blue.

9. do you believe in auras? Not… really? A little? Like, we each have our own personal feel, and energy. Like, in a psychological way. But in the color way? Not really. Can people feel other’s energy better than others? Sure! But that’s just a hyper awareness of self and other, not a “six sense,” or whatever.

10. what do you wish you hated, but actually like? I don’t wish to hate anything.

11. vague about your crush(es) I… don’t have any. I decided a long time ago that crushes were stupid, after I ruined a good friendship with my weird crush. Plus, I don’t spend enough time around people to develop crushes.

12. is there someone you have mixed feelings towards? Not… really? Some of my old professors, maybe. My Abnormal Psychology professor was nice, sometimes, but could say such mean things at times about people with mental illness.

13. talk about an au or story you came up with Oh! I made up a story about a man who has two sons (though I changed it so one child, the elder, was a daughter in the last edit, so…) who sold his soul to keep them safe and happy, after he lost all his money when his business partner skipped town and left his embezzlement charges with the man. The man didn’t get sent to jail, since the small town had pity on him, but he did lose all his money, meaning his eldest, now a daughter, had to steal. Hating that, he made a deal with the devil. 2 years later, the devil (who isn’t evil, but more like the Jewish idea of the devil, who is a temptation) comes knocking and the man learns that instead of taking his soul, since the devil would get it at his death regardless (in order to make a deal with the devil you had to commit the greatest sin, murder, thus tainting your soul), the devil took the thing you loved most. For selfish men, it would be their fame and money. For lustful men, it would be their object of affection. For the man, who had made the deal for selfless reasons, it was his children, whom he loved more than anything.

The plot would have gone into the man trying to escape the devil, who graciously gave him a week to prepare, but I didn’t know how to write it, and it’s kind of been in my notes on my iPod for years. It would have ended with the devil catching up to the family, with the man finally begging the devil to let his children live, that it wasn’t their fault. And the devil would have smiled, sweetly, before killing the children while the man watched. As the devil turned away, the man would have brokenly asked why? Why he couldn’t have left them alone? And the devil would have chuckled sadly and said that it was what had always been planned. That the entire chase had been futile from the very first moment. The devil had sympathy for the man, but he couldn’t go against the orders of God (my version of the devil is kinder, more sympathetic to the plights of humans, since I view the “devil” not as an enemy, but as, I previously mentioned, a temptation. He tempts people, on God’s orders, but doesn’t have any true animosity towards humanity. He just follows orders). Finally, the man begs the devil to kill him, to end his suffering, that even an eternity in Hell would be better than living knowing he killed his children. And then, I’m split on the ending. In the dream that inspired this story, the devil smiles wickedly and says, “I thought you’d never ask,” before bashing the man (me, in the dream) over the head with a bat, since in the dream the devil was eviler. But I think it’s more poignant to let the devil laugh softly again, turn, and say “Oh, my dear man. That’s the whole point,” before walking away/disappearing.

Anyway, that was my main story idea. I really like it, and wrote about 20,000 words for it, but got stuck on the middle part. I wanted to add an old friend of the man’s, who became an alcoholic following the death of one of their old friends. The friend group fell apart after the man left for plot reasons, which I don’t have time to explain, and it grew worse until one of their friends died, and the whole friend group fell apart and she became an alcoholic. However, I wasn’t sure if this subplot took away from the whole plot, and I felt it was written poorly, so I kind of gave up. Plus, I had no idea what obstacles the devil could put in their way, since I don’t know religion. Though… I am currently taking a bible course in college, so maybe I’ll revisit the story. If anyone wants to read what I have, send me a message. :-)

14. do you like makeup? Eh… Depends. I sometimes like it. Also, after writing about my whole story, going back to these questions just feel weird. Eh.

15. do you prefer space or the ocean? I like the ocean, since I can see it more often. Though, I love looking at the stars when I can. I just live in a city with tons of light pollution and can’t ever see the stars.

16. if you could pick any planet besides earth, where would you live? ????? What other planets could I live on??? I don’t know any real planets that have life on them, and none of the 7 others we have interest me much. Or is this fictional? In which case… I don’t know?

17. what form of government do you like the most? (capitalism, socialism, etc.) Um… this took a dark turn. “Hey, what’s your favorite color??” “Do you like makeup??? :-D” “What is your political preference, you capitalist/commie scum???” This question just feels like a trap the cops laid in the middle of a silly, fun little quiz.

18. what animal would you keep as a pet, if you could? I’d keep a cat, but I’m allergic. And a little afraid. Also, I think this means like, wild animal, or mythical creature, but I wouldn’t want to keep a wild animal captive, even if I could. Same with mythical creature.

19. what do you think our purpose is in the universe? To do our best and to enjoy the life we’ve been given. This relates to the next question, but I believe that if there is a God, they’d want us to enjoy life.

20. do you believe in god(s)? Continuing from the last question, yes and no. I believe in a higher power, since I don’t see how the entire universe and life can just be random, but I don’t really believe in “God” or “gods” as humans have imagined them, as helpful or destructive forces that meddle with humanity. I believe they would be a high creature, humans unable to sense them since we don’t have the body parts available to “see” them. There would likely be multiple higher beings, but it is possible one is in charge of earth, to look over us. Though, no miracle granting or listening in, since they probably aren’t on the same timeline we are, or an entire generation to us is a second to them. The afterlife is tricky, which is why I’m so terrified to die, so I won’t go into it. But, long story short, yes. I do believe in a sort of “God.” What they mean to earth, what they want with us, I don’t know. But I do believe something created the universe, and watches over the various planets. Also, I believe that other planets have life, and that aliens may or may not have visited earth, but if they did, we might not have known, since, like with “God,” we don’t have the appendages or body parts available to “see” them. I mean, if we didn’t have eyes or ears, we’d never know what we were missing. Who knows what we can’t “see” because we don’t have the right parts?

21. is there a song you can’t handle listening to, even though you like it? Ehh…. Nothing, really. But, there was a P!nk song I had to turn off halfway through. Not because I hated it, but because it reminded me of my family too much it hurt. I didn’t really like the song, but it was okay. I think it was called Family Portrait? Update, I looked it up, and yes, it is called Family Portrait, by P!nk. It’s not completely similar to my family, but it’s close enough that it just… hurt.

22. what ex do you miss the most, if you have one? If you never date, you can never have an ex you miss the most. *Insert guy tapping his forehead meme here*

23. do you like soft, fluffy blankets or rough/smooth blankets? Soft ones. Who… who likes rough blankets??? What??? I mean, I prefer smoother ones, I guess, to super fluffy. But rough? Really??

24. what is your favorite thing to learn about? Psychology!!! I love it!

25. what country’s history do you find the most interesting? Um… I don’t really like history. I’m taking a history class, though, and I liked Islam’s history. No one country, but the history of the Middle East and Islam.

26. what do you think about genderbent ____ (insert someone here) I think this is one where you had to send in a question for. So, feel free to ask me about any genderbend you like, but warning: I tend not to like genderbent characters. I just think it’s weird, and pointless. Especially if you genderbend a character to make a gay ship straight. Like… dude. Or, vice versa, to make a straight ship gay. It’s just… unnecessary. Make new characters or find a different ship.

27. what breakup was the hardest, if you had one? *insert answer from question 22, but exchange “Ex you miss the most” for “hardest breakup”

28. do you have someone where you can’t decide if you like them romantically or just as a friend? Not really. Going back to question 11, I don’t spend enough time around people to really know. But, as I have weird understandings of friendship and love, as well as a deep loneliness that makes me emotionally invested in anyone who is even slightly a friend, this sort of happens all the time. I just want to be less lonely, usually. I’m just… bad at people. I tend not to like them, and they bore me, yet I long to be around people and have friends. So. Lots of contradictions.

29. what do you think about Tumblr discourse? Eh. I think most of it is stupid. Just… chill. The world sucks, it’s best just to do things you enjoy, don’t sweat the small stuff. Even the big stuff. If there’s nothing you can do, just… move on. Live with it, and live your life. Don’t yell at random people, even If they’re “terrible.” Nothing is black and white, and as soon as you start attacking others because of your opinion, you’re becoming a person in the wrong, even if your view is virtuous. No one is right. No one is wrong. It’s just a matter of opinion. Now, does that mean you shouldn’t argue your point? No! Your view is valid and if it matters to you, express it. But don’t hate on another because of it. Or else you lose your virtue, your moral “righteousness.” Sorry, this went in a wrong direction. But… yeah.

30. what instrument do you wish you could master? Piano, guitar, and violin. Piano the most, though.

31. how easy is it for you to be honest? Pretty easy? I tend to be honest, most often, because I don’t really see why not. But it’s also easy to tell white lies or to omit truths, if it makes my life easier. So. Eh.

32. do you have any strange interests? Nothing I can really think of? Nothing that other people aren’t interested in. I like collecting coins, but so do many others.

33. do you have any strange fears? Ehh… I’m a bit afraid of animals, but it’s mostly because I’m afraid of them hurting me, which isn’t really strange?? So… again, not really? Most of my fears are common. Maybe my fear of holes? Like, on the skin? But people have that fear, too. And it’s less a fear and more of a disgust.

34. what food do you binge on when you’re lazy? Anything I can, really. I tend not to get super hungry, so I only eat when I’m bored or “lazy”, or when I know people should eat. Also, I dislike calling it lazy, since I think that’s a negative word for a more complicated feeling. For me, at least.

35. when you get angry, how do you show it? I tend to go quiet and seethe. I don’t usually yell, though I will if the other person (my dad usually) is yelling. I prefer leaving the room, though, or else getting all “righteous”. Like, righteous fury, though I’m not always righteous when I get angry.

36. do you have any impulsive movements? (twitches, ticks, flapping, etc.) Dude, yes. I tend to crack my knuckles/twist my hands impulsively/nervously. I also tap/rub my thumb against my fingers, or move my foot. Mostly when I’m “hyper,” or possibly manic. Otherwise, when I’m more down, it’s just the cracking knuckles thing.

37. what do you listen to music on? iPod/Phone, and my computer. I tend not to listen to radio. Sometimes I’ll listen to new music on YouTube, but it’s mostly iTunes/the iPod/phone music app.

38. are you left brained or right brained? Well, we all have both right and left brains, so I am both. Since no one side of the brain can be really more dominant. Unless part of your brain is dead, like my mother’s, who is more right brained, since parts of her left brain died when she was born. But, since I understand what this question is asking, I am, really, both. I’m creative and logical. Shocker.

39. earbuds or headphones? Oh, headphones, every time. I HATE earbuds. They always fall out of my ears. I mean I’ll take them if I have nothing else, but I hate them.

40. do you like light blankets or heavy blankets? Eh…. I tend to have heavy blankets, even though it’s hot where I am, and I need a fan to keep me cool. So. Yeah.

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bittlebarnes · 6 years

Text

The Path of Least Resistance 4/?

Read on Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Summary:

“How old are you?” Percival heard himself ask absently.

“19, Mr. Graves.” Was Newt’s tight-lipped answer. He sat down on one of the ornate couches and thanked the house elf who had appeared with a tea set.

“You don't have to call me ‘Mr. Graves’. If we're to be married, I imagine you’ll be using my given name quite a bit.”

“And are we? To be married I mean?” -- After his expulsion from Hogwarts, Newt tries to regain his family's favor by entering an arranged marriage.

“Mr. Graves is liking you to know he won't be home tonight,” Wendi appears at Newt's side, a consternated look on her little face.

“Thank you, Wendi,” Newt smiles at her before going back to his book. It's been two weeks since Percival returned to work and he's been diligent about keeping Newt in the loop. If he's going to be late he either sends Wendi or a note to let Newt know not to worry and an apology for missing dinner.

It's different. It’s...nice. He lets his mind wander to a future where he and Percival could be something. Something more than what they are now.

Newt wonders, however, if this goodwill between them can last. Percival is, more than most, a creature of habit, Newt thinks. This recent behavior is anomalous due to stress and changes in his environment but creatures always return to their true natures once they’ve settled. He twists the ring on his finger and tries to remind himself where he stands in their relationship.

No matter how much Newt wants things to stay just the way they are.

"You know I don't want to burden you, Newt, but really. You simply must snap out of this funk you’re in.” Theseus had come to America to visit. A show of goodwill, he’d said, that the Ministry and MACUSA are getting along just fine. The war is over. He was staying with Newt and Percival in their home in the city. Newt tried to welcome his brother but the man spent most of his free time with Percival in meetings. Any time alone with Newt was filled with unwanted advice and pitying looks.

“I’m not in a funk.” Newt pulled his feet up onto the chaise and sighed knowingly. This was a conversation they’d had many times. “I’ve told you, Percival and I aren’t there yet. I’m only 21, Theseus. There’s plenty of time for children. When would Percival even see them anyway? He’s as busy as you are.”

“Newt, you know it’s not the same.”

Newt did know. Plenty of Omegas his age are already on their second or third pregnancies. Many of Percival’s contemporaries already had large families. Theseus’ new wife was expecting and they’d only been married six months. Suddenly, Newt’s empty nest was starting to look a certain way.

“What do you want from me? I didn't ask to come here, Theseus. This wasn’t my decision. You can’t foist me off on a strange Alpha on the other side of the world and just expect me to lay up and bear his children. You know this isn’t the life I wanted.” Newt tries to keep his voice even but he wobbles near the end, still a frightened boy at heart.

“No,” Theseus agreed. There was a sympathy in his voice that Newt hadn’t expected. Not many were sympathetic towards him, simply disdainful. “But Newt, you must understand and accept that it’s the life you have. You can make the best of it. Now, has Percival been unkind to you.”

“Define unkind.”

“Newt.” Theseus groaned. “I just want what’s best for you. You’re still young and handsome and that’s gotten you this far.” Theseus sat down at the foot of the chaise and held Newt’s gaze. “It’s gotten you and Alpha who’s wealthy and who’s willing to let you work but you must understand that there’s a cost, Newt. And I don’t want the worst to happen.”

“Of course. We shan’t embarrass the family again, right?” Newt snorted, “father would see me institutionalized before he allowed a divorce. Perhaps that's what he’s wanted all along.”

Theseus groaned at the accusation. “Don’t say that. Father loves you very much. He was very concerned about you moving so far away from us but allowed it because of Percival’s character. And a divorce isn’t the worst thing that could happen to you. If you aren't careful, you could wind up with another Omega living here.”

Something vile and poisonous curled in Newt’s stomach at the thought. It was vicious and instinctual and set his teeth on edge.

“Percival would never,” He snapped.

“It’s more common than you think. He’s got the status,” Theseus warned. Newt knew it wasn’t unheard of at all for alphas of a certain prestige to marry a second omega to help carry on their lines.

“He wouldn't do that to me,” He asserted still, certain, “I have every intention of delivering him an heir so it won’t be a problem.”

Theseus didn’t look convinced but nodded all the same.

“I just worry about you, little brother. I know this has been hard on you but you’re so strong, Newt.” Theseus took his hand then and squeezed. It was a rare show of affection, one that almost startled Newt. “You must guard yourself. Don’t give Percival a reason to make your life more difficult.”

For a moment, Newt wondered if Percival had divulged something to Theseus. Something that would worry Theseus about his future.

But Percival had made promises and, if anything, Newt trusted him to keep his word. He was safe with Percival. He always would be.

Newt makes the decision on a whim. If he wants this thing between he and Percival, this peace, between them to last, he may have to leave his comfort zone. It’s frightening but cowardice would leave them back where they started.

Or worse.

It’s this sudden spike of bravery that has him packing up the meal Wendi made and apparating to the Woolworth building. Percival’s thrown himself back into his work with a fervor but his health still worries Newt.

He knows his way to Percival’s office this time and bypasses Auror Goldstein’s office despite her double take.

When he finds himself outside of Percival’s door, the dread returns. This was a terrible idea.

“He’s in there.” He hears a voice behind him say. It’s a witch, pretty and blonde. “He’s been in there all day so I’m sure he’ll be happy to see a friendly face. You don’t have to worry.” She tosses him a wink and pats him on the shoulder before leaving.

It’s weird but it does make him feel better. Even if Percival is angry, he’ll just go home and eat alone like normal.

He knocks.

The door swings open on its own, Percival not even looking up from his desk.

“Yes?” He sounds irritated.

"Percival?” Percival’s head snaps up, a shocked look on his face.

“Newt? What are you doing here? Surely not another class trip.”

“No. I actually bro-brought you dinner. Wendi cooked so you don't have to worry.” Newt says in a rush. Percival’s eyes finally hone in on the basket in Newt’s grasp.

“Oh, Newt,” He says, his voice soft, “thank you.” He stashes his pen before getting up from his desk. He gestures for Newt to sit down on the couch before joining him.

“I'm sorry if I interrupted.” Newt sets the basket between them and begins fishing things out.

“No. I needed the distraction." Percival accepts an offered napkin.

Newt doesn't know what to say. He and Percival rarely shared conversations over meals when they were at home let alone in the man’s office. Percival was rarely home early enough to attend meals and if he did, Newt usually ignored him in favor of grading papers. If they did speak, the topics proved to be mostly surface level in nature.

“Things are going well? With you being back in the office?” He ventures. It’s a poor opening but he hopes Percival appreciates the effort.

“Hm? I wouldn't say well but they're going. It’s been more frustrating than anything.” He stops to chew and silence laps over them again.

Finally, Percival looks up at him, his brows furrowed. It looks almost as if he’s seeing Newt for the first time.

“Newt, you’re a magizoologist.”

“Um, yes. I am.” Where in the world could this go?

“Do you know what an Obscurus is?”

That’s...not what Newt expected.

“Of course. I teach a section on them in my class. It’s the manifestation of the repressed energy within all magical children. For one to be created, the child would have to endure extreme abuse. They’re quite fascinating. I’ve never encountered one in real life but the man who previously held my position told some very intense stories.”

Percival looks more enraptured than Newt’s ever seen him in a conversation about creatures. Something’s wrong.

“Why are you interested in Obscurials? You’re not, you’re not pursuing one are you, Percival?” While Newt has always believed in field experience, he always cautioned his students. The textbooks weren’t always right and caution needed to be exercised.

“It’s an open case, Newt. I’m afraid I can’t divulge the details. Just...I might have more questions.”

That’s concerning.

They finish their meal and Newt tries to put the anxiety from his him.

He is not successful.

Newt decides to spend his day off catching up on some reading. There’s an article on mooncalves he’s been dying to dive into but student work has really been taking its toll. Percival's supposed to stop in for lunch and Newt is surprised at himself: he’s actually excited. Thirty minutes before Percival is set to arrive, he gets cleaned up. He fixes his hair and picks out one of his better shirts to wear.

Wendi sets out a nice lunch tray for them and actually smiles at Newt. It's just a day of surprises. He grins when he hears the front door open and goes to greet his husband.

“Newt! Good, you're home.” Percival's smile is exhausted but there nonetheless. It’s who’s with him that drowns out Newt's sudden goodwill. “This is Credence. He's going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” future.” Percival's smile still hasn't faltered even though Newt swears the room is suddenly 20 degrees cooler.

Underneath the sour smell of unrealized magic is an unmistakable sweetness. Percival's brought another Omega into their home. Newt wants to shred him.

He never thought Percival would take it this far, that Theseus could possibly be right. The humiliation.

His recent kindness? The ground they’d gained in their marriage? Had it all been for show? For this boy?

Something must show on his face because Percival clears his throat and calls, “Wendi? Will you please take Credence upstairs to help him get settled? I think I need to speak with Newt alone.”

“Of course, Mr. Graves. You is following Wendi now?” the boy looks mystified at the little elf but follows her dutifully. He quietly shuffles past Newt without meeting his eyes.

As well he shouldn't, Newt thinks venomously.

“I'm sorry I didn't let you know I'd be late. Dealing with Credence’s situation has been tricky, to say the least. It took a lot to get clearance for him to stay with us.” He hangs up his coat and loosens his tie. “Hopefully things won't be this way for long.”

“And how do you expect them to be?” Newt asks thickly. Does he still have a place here? Or will Percival want him foisted off somewhere else? That's not uncommon either. Divorce is embarrassing for all involved. Better to ship him off to the country or worse, back to his parents.

“Easier?”

“‘Easier.’” The word doesn’t even feel right echoed on Newt’s tongue, “if you think I'm going to just-just allow this, you are mistaken.”

Percival looks taken aback.

“Newt, Credence needs-”

“I don’t really care what he needs. I won’t have a second in this house. You don't need one. I haven't asked you for much but I won’t entertain a harem.”

“A harem?” Percival's voice is reaching an uncomfortable pitch. “Wait, a second. You think-Credence is not going to be a second omega.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Because needs my help! He's part of the case I'm working! Mercy Lewis, Newt!” Percival looks more taken aback then Newt’s ever seen him. You think so little of me? That I would just parade another Omega into our home? Your home? Newt-"

“I heard your mother talking. She's been looking for a new omega for you for months. Ever since you told her you didn't want me anymore."

The silence between them is deafening. Newt feels his chest heave and wonders where the sudden burst of anger came from. Percival goes pale but doesn't deny the accusation. He can't.

“That wasn't a conversation you were supposed to hear.” He says finally, his voice quiet.

“But I did. And now you've kept your word.” The anguish Newt feels is unexpected. It sits like acid at the base of his spine. Newt feels awful, like an absolute failure. “I think I'm going to vomit,” he says.

Percival takes him by the arm and guides him to the kitchen. Newt takes a seat while Perical gets him a glass of water.

He tries not to cry.

Percival sets the glass on the table next to him.

Newt wipes his eyes tiredly.

“If you want me to move Credence-”

“It’s fine. You said he’s a guest, then that’s that.” Newt tries to keep his voice even but it comes out harsh nonetheless. “This is your home.”

Percival doesn’t flinch per say but his composure slips, just for a second. There’s a crack in his carefully cultivated facade that Newt hasn’t seen before.

“It’s-it’s your home too, Newt,” He says quietly, “It’s our home.”

Newt fights the sudden urge to snort. “I’ve been derelict in my marital duties. Theseus warned me this would happen.”

“Warned you of what? That I’d bring a second omega into our home?”

“Because I haven’t given you an heir. You want someone you desire.” It’s a crushing admission, one Newt has always feared. He had gone to Percival once at the beginning of their marriage, ready to do his duty, only to be summarily rejected. He’d never tried again.

Percival’s sigh is heavy as he sits down next to Newt.

“Newt...I don’t think I’ve done any of this right,” he tucks a loose curl behind Newt’s ear before cupping his cheek, “but understand this, it is never my intention to disrespect you or your position in our home. I swore you a life of contentment and it would appear I’ve broken my promise.”

“Percival…”

“But maybe this is where we get the chance to start over. When I was with Grindelwald,” he shudders and Newt wants so much to comfort him, “I knew I was going to die. I wanted to at some points. I knew you would never come for me."

“You thought I would abandon you?”

“No, I just didn't think I'd given you reason enough to care.” Percival huffs another sigh, “but you came anyway. You came and you saved my life.”

The urge to cry is suddenly back. Newt doesn't like to think about how close Percival came to death. “I knew something was wrong. I should have come for you so much sooner, Percival.”

“There was nothing more you could have done and I don’t blame you for staying away. I know that you care. I just hope you know that I care for you as well.” Percival’s voice is so gentle that Newt has to fight the urge to curl into him.

It's not love.

But, then again, Newt didn’t marry Percival for love.

“I will never intentionally hurt you,” Percival says and Newt knows it’s a promise, “regardless of whether we have children. I’ll never have a need for a second.” He presses a the softest of kisses to the crown of Newt’s head and Newt breaks. He curls into Percival’s shoulder and finally exhales.

#lynn speaks #gramander #percival graves #newt scamander #lynn writes #tpolr #graves x newt #original percival graves #percival x newt #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts

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