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roosterforme · 1 month

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Covering the Classics Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna was afraid to face her new friends after the night out at the bar. Admitting she was attracted to Bob was easier to do than explain why she couldn't have him. When she finally sends him some book recommendations, she finds his taste in books familiar in an all too intimate way.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Anna spent the rest of her weekend working on lesson plans and looking at Bob's number saved in her phone. She had compiled a mental list of titles she thought he would like, and she'd even pulled a few dog-eared books from her own collection and stacked them up on her narrow counter. She would absolutely love to have Bob borrow them from her, but she'd completely messed everything up.

Why, when confronted with a decent man, did she shut everything down and destroy all hope? Because of Kevin. That's why. She knew this crush on Bob was a bad idea. Nothing good could come of it, but she still caught herself looking at his contact information on Sunday evening with longing in her heart.

She made herself a sad sandwich for dinner and packed herself a second sad sandwich for lunch the next day and then she settled in with her computer. The idea of taking her sad sandwich to the quad and eating with her friends was making her anxious. What if they didn't even want her around now that she'd made a complete fool of herself in front of their friend? What if they looked up at her as she approached them sitting on the bench with their perfect, beautiful lunches and scowled with their perfect, beautiful faces?

"Oh no," she groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. She really liked them, but they probably hated her now. And she really liked Bob, but he probably went home with that better looking woman who was at the Navy bar and hadn't thought about Anna one time since.

She forced her attention to her computer screen which was prompting her for a password. She entered Kev1n1s@t00L and watched as the website she'd had open on her browser came to life. She sighed as she scrolled through her saved favorites on PoetsAmongUs. It was kind of pitiful that she knew what she was going to end up reading before she could actually admit it to herself.

Your whispers call out in the darkest shadows, My heart answers like a flame, Igniting this shared space with every breath I take, Giving you a love that will never find the end. It binds me to you, pulsing through my veins, Emotions like I've never known before. I've doubted that I could reach this place, But I feel endlessly sure here now.

Anna whined from her bed in her sad little apartment as she looked at the pen name of her favorite poet before clicking on it. He either never finished filling out his profile or he was being purposely vague. Male, 30s, United States.

"Sky Writing. The only man I would trust with my heart ever again." She read the poem once more. That was her favorite passage, but she knew everything he posted by heart and got excited every time something new from him popped up every few months.

It was late enough that she could probably just go to sleep without acknowledging that she hadn't texted Bob and probably never would. She couldn't set foot back in that bar ever again. Maybe that other place that Jessica loved so much would be somewhere she could check out next time she had nothing better to do. Chippy's or something? She started to doze off.

When her alarm started blaring, it was almost like she had slept too well. She'd dreamed about a faceless man with beautiful hands reading poetry to her while he ran his fingers slowly up and down her bare thigh. She couldn't shake the delicious feeling even as her alarm got louder. When she managed to turn it off, she lay there wishing she had time to go on the poetry website and masturbate before work.

"Stop it," she whispered as she got up and started getting herself ready for the day.

At least she got to teach English 522 this afternoon. Feminist Literature was becoming one of her favorite classes, as evidenced by her well worn copy of Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu which was in her bag. When she stood in her kitchen and ate a peanut butter granola bar and drank some coffee, she looked at the books she had pulled out as options for Bob, but she shook her head and left for the day without dwelling on how disappointing her life truly was.

Relying solely on public transportation meant leaving a lot earlier than you wanted to, but Anna still barely made it to her office in time to grab her notebook and teach her first lecture of the week. Half of the students still looked like they were asleep while the other half were looking at her like she was a literary messiah. It was almost comical, and when lunchtime rolled around, she was in a pretty great mood. Until she realized she was still on the fence about going to the quad.

"Just do a vibe check," she muttered as she grabbed her lunch from her office. "If they look pissed off, you can come right back here and never talk to anyone else again for the rest of your life." She could subside on sandwiches and online poetry and only speak when she was giving lectures. That sounded simultaneously amazing and also terrifying.

The college campus was bustling today. There were some guys skateboarding through the quad, and she recognized a few other faculty members from the English department who waved to her. But that didn't stop her palms from sweating and her heart from thudding in a sickening rhythm that Edgar Alan Poe would think was beautiful. When she spotted the two women on the bench in front of the weird tree, Anna was shocked to see them waving to her with smiles on their faces.

"Anna!" called Jessica. "You'll never believe it! The vending machine just gave me my bottle of Pepsi and a bonus bottle of ginger ale! Like it knew I was about to see you!"

"Chaos Theory at its finest," said the other woman before she bit into her carrot stick and hummus.

"It's really more of the Butterfly Effect," Jessica replied. Anna had no idea what they were talking about, but they scooted away from each other on the bench to make room, so she decided to stay.

Anna swallowed hard as she sat and opened her pack of peanuts. "How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked the two of them, and soon her nerves calmed down.

"Excellent. Bradley and I took a tour of the library yesterday."

"Pretty good. I helped Jake make waffles for breakfast. Lots and lots and lots of waffles. What did you do with the rest of your weekend? After the Hard Deck?"

Anna accepted the bottle of ginger ale that Jessica handed to her as she said, "Um, well I did my lesson plans for the next few weeks. And I started writing my midterm exams. Nothing exciting."

She was met with a bit of awkward silence, and she could feel the two women sharing a look behind her head. "Did you happen to text Bob?" Advanced Calculus asked cautiously, and Anna knew this was the part where it was all over. The dramatic climax, except she was actually the villain in this story.

"No, actually. I think that ship has sailed," she replied softly.

"Why?" Jessica asked, not unkindly. "When we figured out that you and he already met at the bookstore in North Park, we were ecstatic. He's the mystery guy you were losing your mind over, Anna! The handsome one with glasses who smells so good!"

"He really does smell good," Advanced Calculus muttered as she dipped another carrot into the hummus which was probably unfairly homemade. "Are you no longer attracted to him? Was it his nerdy tee shirt? Or were all the guys so obnoxious you couldn't wait to leave?"

Anna held onto the cold bottle of ginger ale a little tighter as she said, "It's not that at all. I mean, who in their right mind wouldn't be attracted to Bob? And I thought his shirt was kind of charming. And the rest of the guys were welcoming in a slightly intense way."

Now Jessica was turned to face her, eyes wide behind her glasses. "Bob thinks you ran away from him twice now because he's unappealing and boring."

Anna jolted and the pack of peanuts went flying to the ground, nuts rolling in every direction. "He does?" she asked, palms beginning to sweat again.

"Yeah. Big time. But he's quite attracted to you. Apparently the red hair is a thing."

"Oh my god," Anna moaned in embarrassment. Bob liked her red hair? "Oh no. No. No. He's just.... he's so.... and he's also.... I can't even." She took a deep breath as she kicked at the lost peanuts. "Bob is so handsome. It's hard to look into his eyes for too long, because you start to feel like you're going to break out into song. And I don't think I've ever been around a man who smells quite that nice. And he's funny and just a touch nerdy, but that's a good thing."

There was another beat of silence before Advanced Calculus said, "I'm not really understanding what the problem is."

Anna shook her head and unwrapped her sandwich to keep her hands busy. "Listen, none of my weirdness is because of him. It's all because of me. I can't have a crush on him. I can't be interested in him. I can't be interested in any men whatsoever."

Jessica nudged her shoulder and said, "Maybe you could just text him? Maybe making another new friend wouldn't be so bad?"

--------------------------

"Well if you can't find a girlfriend, I hope you're at least getting your rocks off with an attractive lady."

Bob was cradling his forehead in his hand and trying to escape from Suzanne's house without having this conversation. Whenever he stopped to pick up dinner instead of cooking something at home, he always brought something for her, too. It was the neighborly thing to do, especially when your neighbor was decades older than you, but right now he just wanted to vanish.

"I wouldn't tell you even if I was," he replied, earning a laugh as she opened up the container of soup at her kitchen table.

"Sit down and stay for a while," she told him, pointing to the empty chair. "I'll pay you back for dinner with my charm and witticism since you won't accept any money."

His phone started to vibrate in his uniform pocket, and he dug it out thinking it was probably Jessica having finished mocking up her barbarian character for their campaign, but it was a text from an unknown number. He was about to pocket his phone again, but then he saw the words book recommendations and paused. He quickly unlocked the phone and started reading the texts that were coming through.

I have some book recommendations for you if you still want them. I'm sorry I didn't send them over the weekend.

This is Anna, by the way.

I should have started with that information.

Wow. This is already embarrassing.

Bob laughed and started to type back immediately, and then Suzanne's voice cut across his thoughts. "Are you sure you don't have a special lady? You're smiling an awful lot at your phone."

He looked at her and shook his head. "I'm sure. I like this girl, but she doesn't return my feelings that way. She's just sending me some recommendations." He started to back away as he added, "Enjoy your soup. I'll see you later, Suzanne."

"Good night, Robert."

Bob ended up standing just inside his front door as he saved Anna's number and typed back a message to her. He thought keeping it simple would be his best move. Anything more than that and he'd embarrass himself once again by getting ahead of himself with his feelings.

I would love some more recommendations from you. You're the expert.

He only had to wait about a minute for her response, which was just a list of book after book after book that he'd never even heard of. The first were the ones she'd given to him verbally on Friday night, but the rest were just as foreign to him.

Anna Webber: Persuasion by Austen. Northanger Abbey by Austen, Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell, and The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas (because you like poetry so much)

Bob quickly ate his own container of soup while he read the list over and over again. Then without changing out of his uniform, he grabbed the keys to his beat up truck and headed to the bookstore in North Park to see if he could find any of these titles before they closed.

The store was virtually empty, and when he climbed the stairs up to the slightly dusty loft he could practically picture Anna's pretty hands and painted nails gliding along all of the spines. He could imagine her pretty, wide eyes looking up at him before she figured out he was boring. He could hear her laugh as he made his way to the spot where they had been standing together.

That horrible Vonnegut book was still there which made him chuckle. "Figures nobody else would want to read it," he muttered as he reached for it. Then he backtracked a little bit to start collecting everything from Anna's list. He referenced his text messages several times, hunting all over the Classics section until he had almost everything in order. Then he spread them out along the shelf and took a photo. He texted it to her before he could second guess himself after he added a short caption.

Did I miss anything?

He was walking back down to the poetry section when his phone vibrated.

Anna Webber: You're at the bookstore right now? The one in North Park?

Bob froze in the middle of the stairs. He embarrassed himself without even knowing it. He must seem desperate right now. Running out to the store as soon as she sent him the list. "Shit," he groaned softly. When he got another message, he was almost afraid to look at it.

Anna Webber: I LOVE that store. I wish I were there right now, too.

Bob thought that sounded perfect, actually. Maybe if she were here now, she wouldn't run away this time. He'd been playing those kinds of scenarios over and over in his head, ones where she liked him back the way he liked her. Ones where they left the bookstore holding hands.

He continued downstairs to look for the book of poems she suggested for him, which he found quickly, along with Votive by Keiran Goddard. Would Anna like a copy of his favorite book of poetry? Did he even want to ask her? At this point, he had nothing to lose. She wasn't going to suddenly want him, but that shouldn't stop him from sharing a recommendation of his own. Especially when she might really enjoy something he found so spectacular.

Bob held the book up and snapped a quick selfie, sending it away into the universe before dwelling on it too much.

--------------------

Anna was preparing a piece of toast with jelly for herself or dinner, desperately wishing she were back at the bookstore. Bob was there, probably smelling so nice and luring everyone else who was shopping closer to him. Perhaps he was wearing another Dungeons & Dragons shirt like he'd worn to the Navy bar. Perhaps his biceps were straining against it.

She didn't have to use her vivid imagination for very long, because suddenly Bob was staring at her through her phone screen with his crooked little smile and his beautiful eyes. And his uniform.

"Oh my god." The toast slipped from her fingers and landed jelly side down on her plate as she took in every single detail. Navy uniforms were khaki? Why had she assumed they were all navy blue? Why didn't she know more about the Navy? She was going to take the time to learn everything she could about the United States Navy.

When she realized her mouth was dry, she reached for her glass of water and downed it. She was in a daze. A Bob Floyd induced daze. Even all the little pins on his shirt were distracting. She wanted to count all of them. She wanted to touch them. She wondered what they would feel like if she pressed her lips to them.

"Stop," she gasped. But she couldn't. Now her eyes drifted up to his face again, and she thought she'd only really ever seen the exact color of his eyes in a Kandinsky painting at the Guggenheim. She couldn't look away. "No. No. No!" she moaned. And then she finally read the actual message he'd typed out after gawking at his photo for five whole minutes.

Bob Floyd: Have you ever read Votive by Keiran Goddard? It's my favorite collection of poetry.

Anna laughed a little hysterically. She hadn't even noticed he was holding up a book at all. His graceful fingers were wrapped around the damn thing, but she'd been too distracted by him to actually look at the book. But now the fact that she'd never read Goddard before had her flushed and flustered, because Bob had sent a book recommendation to her. Nobody ever did that, and all she could think about was how she absolutely needed to get her hands on a copy and devour the whole entire thing if it was something he liked.

Very calmly and rationally, she typed back to him.

I have not read it yet, but I'll add it to my list of things to check out of the library.

When she set her phone down and realized her toast had become a casualty to this text conversation, she moaned and flipped it back over. Her heart was still beating a little erratically from looking at Bob's photo for too long, and she didn't think she could even eat. There was no way she could waste any food in her current financial state though, so she took a bite anyway as he texted her back.

Bob Floyd: I'll just pick it up for you while I'm here. I hope you'll like it, but if you hate it, that's okay too. It's a bit of an acquired taste.

Oh no. She couldn't let him buy it, because she didn't have any extra spending money at the moment to be able to pay him back. But admitting that to him would be excruciatingly embarrassing, and she didn't even think she could do it. Perhaps she could scrape together twenty dollars if she skipped a few meals, but then she wouldn't be able to join the girls in the quad at lunchtime. They'd notice her lack of food right away.

"Why are you such a disaster?" she asked herself as she scarfed down the rest of her toast and typed back to him.

Thank you. I can pay you back for it later.

She would figure it out. She always did. Even when she didn't want to, she managed to find a way to solve her problems. Even when it hurt.

Bob Floyd: It's my treat. I can give it to Bradley or Jake at work tomorrow. I'm sure either of the ladies wouldn't mind getting it to you when they see you. Or if you feel like it, we could meet for coffee one day and I could give it to you in person. Just let me know.

"Oh, Anna," she whispered, already typing out a response before she could think better of it.

--------------------------

Bob was surprised Anna took him up on his offer to meet for coffee, but he found himself looking forward to it in spite of the fact that he was still pining a bit. He'd get over it in time. He'd find someone new to crush on, or maybe he'd meet another girl that he was interested in, and maybe she would be interested back. But none of that stopped him from being excited at the prospect of being around her again. And none of that prepared him for the way he felt when Anna pushed through the door of the coffee shop on Wednesday evening and looked around tentatively. Her red hair was in another loose braid, and her freckles were so endearing.

As soon as her eyes landed on him, she looked less apprehensive but also more resigned. When she approached the table where he was sitting with three books, he stood. "Hey. Anna. How are you?"

"Hi, Bob." Even her voice was soft and sweet as her eyes swept along his face and body. She blushed a pretty shade of pink as she said, "Thanks for the book. Will you let me buy you something to drink?"

He didn't respond beyond nodding and leading the way toward the counter. He listened to her order a small coffee before he ordered a large hot tea, and when she reached for her wallet, he was already handing over a twenty. When she looked up at him with wide, brown eyes, he just smiled. "You don't have to buy me a drink."

She watched the money leave his hand as she said, "Well, you don't have to buy me one either."

"Too late."

She was quiet as they returned to the small table with their hot beverages, but as soon as she sat, she said, "You'll have to let me pay next time."

Bob slid two of the books across the table as he asked, "Next time?" But she didn't respond as she let her fingers brush along Votive before she picked it up to reveal the one underneath it.

Anna's laughter filled the small space as her eyes darted back up to meet his. "You bought Cat's Cradle? I didn't think that was the kind of thing you were looking for?"

He glanced down into his tea. "Uh, it's not. I got it for you."

"Bob," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the spine now. He liked her nail polish and wanted to touch her hands. "You did not have to get me two books."

"Yes I did," he said with a smile. "Vonnegut sounds horrible. I felt bad for it because nobody else was ever going to buy it. I couldn't just leave it to rot on the shelf when I know the only person who would be willing to give it a nice home."

When she laughed again, she seemed resigned to the fact that the books were both hers. "Thanks. Money is a little tight for me right now. You know how it is when you first move," she told him while she fidgeted a bit. "But next time, I'll buy your drink. Or your book. Or something."

"You keep saying 'next time'."

Anna poked at her coffee cup and said, "I thought maybe.... we could be friends."

"Friends." His voice felt and sounded stale. The word made him feel sadder than it should have. "Of course."

She looked even more relieved now as she took a sip of her coffee, but Bob was busy trying not to memorize the pretty pattern of her freckles across her nose and the way her lips were pursed. He wouldn't look at a friend that way.

"Which book is that?" she asked, nodding toward the last one in front of him.

He flipped it over so she could see the cover, and he said, "Oh, it's The Age of Innocence. I'm almost done reading it, and I was just hoping to get your opinions on a few things."

Anna's eyes went wider. "You're almost done reading it? Already?"

"Yeah." His voice sounded like a groan, and he knew he should be embarrassed since she recommended it two days ago, but he said, "Once I start a new book, I can't put it down if it's good."

"So you like it?" she asked, leaning a little closer to him as a smile played along her lips.

"It's fantastic," he replied, and her foot brushed his softly beneath the table.

Anna licked her lips and shifted in her seat as she made a soft sound that just made Bob want to get closer to her. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her and cleared her throat before she blurted out. "You're really handsome." His lips parted wordlessly, unsure how to respond, but he didn't have to as she immediately said, "And you're not boring. Not at all. I could have stayed in that dusty bookstore all afternoon, tucked away in the loft, talking to you about book after book."

"Oh," he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Really?"

"Yes. Really," she said, and it sounded like she meant it. "I didn't disappear because of you. I disappeared because of me. And I'm really sorry about that."

Then he realized what was going on. His friends got to her already. He'd told Jessica on Saturday night that he was sure Anna ditched him because he's probably not as handsome or interesting as she's used to. And now he was going to have to text her and tell her to lay off. This whole thing was embarrassing enough without having to hear Anna pity him like this.

"Don't worry about it," he told her softly with his best attempt at a smile. "We can be friends."

When he got home, she texted him to thank him again for the books and the coffee. But he was still thinking about her freckles and how far down her neck they might go. Maybe they made a pretty pattern across her shoulders, too. Maybe they would disappear into her bra, a perfect treasure for another man to find. But not Bob. Bob and Anna were just friends.

------------------------

When Anna finally got home after taking two buses, it was so late, she knew she should go right to bed. But she was wishing for another cheap bottle of wine to try to take her mind off of Bob. He was perfect, and she couldn't let herself have him. They could be friends, but nothing more. She could send him texts, but they couldn't flirt.

She already missed his soft voice and the way he gave her his entire focus when they were together. He bought her two books! Nobody else ever bought her books! And he read the ones she recommended to him! Maybe Kevin was to blame for most things that had gone wrong in her life, but literally no man she'd ever known was as kind and thoughtful as Bob.

She collapsed back onto her bed in her sad apartment were she could look at her kitchen and her bathroom at the same time, and she opened the book of poetry. Bob's favorite poetry. Within minutes of reading the first few pages, she felt warmer and maybe a little flustered. The passages were romantic and insightful in such a familiar way. Something was tickling at her brain, trying to trigger a memory. She kept reading, making it fifteen pages in before she gasped and realized what it was.

"Sky Writing," she murmured, reaching for her computer in favor of the book. She was reminded of her favorite novice poet from her favorite website. The poetry in the book sounded a bit like the poems written by Sky Writing, and now Anna was even more of a mess knowing that this was the kind of intimate literature Bob preferred to read.

She wanted him. She wanted to know what his big, sturdy hands would feel like on her body. What his lips tasted like. She wanted to erase that pinch of doubt she saw on his face when she tried to reassure him that even though they were going to be just friends, she definitely found him attractive.

The next time she went shopping, she was going to need to stock up on some more bottles of cheap wine.

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Just friends. Okay, Anna. Sure, babe. Let's see how long that lasts. Bob's wingwomen are powerful. Thank you @lauratang for the book/reading list! And thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

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sameschmidtdiffname · 2 months

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heyyyy can I pls req something where Mike tries to make it up to the reader after he says something wrong in their 1st fight as a couple? like “I don’t want to lose you” as an apology and they get back together or something along those lines? tysm I really enjoy ur work :))

But of course!!!

Wanting, Waiting

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Overworked and underfed, you'll go to sleep once some decent work is complete. However, a late night turns into a day long fight.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, pre-established relationship, argument, cursing, Reader and Mike both got some shit going on, hints of an eating disorder, overworking, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of: suicide/death, depression, drugging, and kidnapping. Vulnerability is gross.

Notes: 'Slip' walked so this could run full speed into a brick wall. I feel as though I may have redeemed myself.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

This page is mocking me.

The hour is late. I stopped checking the clock around 2:00 A.M., and there's a cup of cold coffee right next to me on this table, several rings on the inside from where the coffee had been left sitting far too long. It's cheap, the flavor sticking to my teeth in a way that settles my lips into a slight grimace as I try to convince my hand to move my pen across the just as cheap notebook paper that has been sitting in front of me since I came home.

Come on. It's words. What the fuck is hard about this?

'It's not hard if you can actually get your head out of your ass and do something,' I think to myself. Not helping.

I have an irritating collection of drafts. Oh yes, I can start them and I can certainly plan out the works before me. But actually writing is somehow impossible, and even though I can feel how thick the block is in my mind, preventing me from communicating my feelings properly, I just can't get break myself out of it.

Come on. Finish one draft. Then everything will click together for the rest.

For the past few weeks it's been just like this. Come home, sit down with projects, and try. But no matter what I do, I just can't focus. It's as though my head simply won't allow it. And this house, quite frankly, isn't helping. It's admittedly unsettling atmosphere, the loud noises born from nothing. It's as though I can feel the weight of the dead that used to sit at the same glass table as I watching me over my shoulder, pressing their non-existent weight against me, making my chest tight with pressure I cannot voice because that's not fair to the ones still here truly haunted by their presence. I'm just a guest who overextends their stay, quite frankly.

Just a page. Just write a page and you can get up for a moment. Ignore how loud the fridge is at something clunks inside of it.

A page. Get a page. Come on, you imbecile, how hard is a fucking pa-

"I thought we talked about this."

It's a testament to my mental state how high I manage to jump in my chair, my tired and over-caffinated heart set off to make me dizzy with over exertion from fear, turning to see who has come to voice their thoughts and damn us both with them.

"Mike," I sigh. I place a hand on my chest, rubbing slightly at the spot where I feel my heart pounding against my sore ribs. "Don't do that."

"Have you slept at all?" Mike asks disapprovingly. His arms are crossed against his chest, heavy bags under his eyes from another night of restless dreams. He can't sleep, I won't sleep. If he'd allow it, we could actually get shit done this time of day.

"A little," I lie. He's just worried. About everything. He always is, which at first was something I loved about him. And usually I still do. It's an admirable trait, to care about someone and love them so much it's only natural to fret over them, to check and make sure they're taken care of properly.

Except it makes me feel guilty.

"Oh yeah? What time?" He asks, narrowing his sleep swollen eyes at me.

Details. Fuck.

"Ah, uh- I don't know, I wasn't looking at the clock," I say sheepishly, trying to flash a disarming smile and make my own bags look like ones of bare minimum rest instead of self neglect. Mike's jaw tightens slightly.

"Oh?" He says in a dull voice that is not raised, yet managed to ring throughout the room nonetheless.

I hum affirmatively, pressing my lips together and fiddling with the cheap pen in my hands, glancing down at it in an attempt at trying not to give myself away.

"Yeah, I don't know. Just like, laid my head on the book and... y'know... drifted off for a couple hours," I try to say casually.

"Ah," he says as though that were enough, leaning now against the doorframe of the hallway, looking at the other wall as though the paint were interesting. "How long after I went to bed, do you think?"

Keep your breathing even. He can smell fear. "Like, a couple," I answer with a shrug.

"Or, like, not at all," he says, turning his head back to stare down at me with a glare.

"I slept," I insist.

"Bullshit. You give me unnecessary detail about your shits post mexican take-out, but you can't tell me what time you fell asleep?" He says accusingly.

"I was asleep! I'm sorry, do you want me to lie and give some time because you need it for some reason?" I ask evenly, shrugging as though to ask what he'd like me to say, blinking at him and adding a tired tinge of a croak to my voice to match his.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, eyes still in narrow slits yet somehow widening slightly, his leg uncrossing from over the other and planting firmly on the floor as he stands straight.

He's not that tall. Kinda short. But he looks much bigger when mad. Kinda like an iguana. I told him that one time and got bit. Jokingly, of course. It's not like he'd just reach over and sna- You know what? Irrelevant.

"I'm just saying," I say, starting to turn back to my notebook as though the conversation were finished.

"No-no, I'd like to hear that again," he says. I can hear his footsteps pad against the flat, tan carpet, my shoulders stiffening slightly as I train my decreasingly neutral eyes on the wrinkled, lined paper in front of me. "I liked the part where you made me sound like some insecure teenager for calling you out on your shit. Very original."

My lips press into a thin line, my grip on my pen tightening slightly.

"It's not that serious, Mikey-"

"Don't bullshit me, and don't use some cheap nickname as a cop out via sympathy," Mike snaps, standing now on the opposite side of the table, pressing his hands now against the glass surface that dirties so easily. Trust me, we've had to clean some prints off of it.

There's a line, and at some point I'm going to cross it. The problem is it's hidden under mental sand that makes me unclear of exactly where it is.

"Michael-"

"That's formal," he says, leaning forward on the table, his tone the same as an interrogating mother just waiting for the moment where no one will blame her for finally tearing you to shreds for what you've said to her outwardly innocent statements. A trap.

"I'm sorry, I thought you didn't like cheap nicknames?" I say, fighting the irritation in my voice, barely managing to remain even as I click my pen to begin writing.

"What's wrong with just Mike?" He asks. He reaches across the table, placing all five of his fingertips on my paper firmly and dragging it back across the table towards him, withholding it from me.

"Would you like me to use just Mike?" I ask.

"I'd like you to make eye contact while you lie through your fucken teeth," he says calmly, not moving as he continues to stare me down.

"Okay, Mike. And what exactly does my sleep schedule mean to you?" I ask slowly, trailing my eyes from his hand, slowly up his arm with pronounced veins and muscles, to the white cotton shirt that was two sizes too large and usually what he wore to sleep in, until I meet his dark and slightly hateful eyes.

"We had a conversation," he starts.

"A conversation," I repeat.

"About a month ago, do you remember?" He asks, cocking his head slightly in that way it does when we both know I'm not going to dare to answer with anything other than he wants.

"You ha-"

"I had a concern," he interrupts me, now looking down at the notebook and studying it as though it were a piece of fine art. "Which involved how absolutely awful your ability is to take care of yourself properly."

"Mike-"

"Shut. Up." Mike says with disturbing calmness. "I'm talking."

Fine.

"It's fucking rude."

Not saying it's not.

"Like your attitude when I try to just help you because clearly, you can't help yourself," he says, now slapping down the notebook to gesture at me as though it were obvious why he was concerned.

I could speak. I'd like to. And he gives me a long enough silence I could. But instead I decide I will simply give him the floor.

"No opinion on this?" He asks shortly.

"No," I say with a dismissive shrug. "You seem to have them for me."

Mike laughs at this statement, and if the sparkle in his eyes didn't seem to have the same dull shine as the glass table between us I'd feel a bit better about it. But I think there's a six foot hole in the backyard I just signed a lease on that makes his disturbingly convincing smile much more worrisome.

"You're funny," he says affectationately. "Get up."

"What?" I ask, blinking.

"Are you deaf now? Up," he says in irritation, beginning to cross back around the table. "This isn't a negotiation."

Before I can speak his hands dig in under my armpits, roughly pulling me to stand and bringing me close to his chest. I should have energy to fight back, I've only been sitting after all. But a physical confrontation would be too loud, first of all. Abby is asleep in her room, and I don't want to make a scene to wake the poor child. Number two, my bones are sore, my head is aching and I generally just do not feel well enough to protest. Physically.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!"

Verbally, I'm fine.

"You're going to bed, that's final!"

"I have twelve drafts due that I have to get done or else this project-"

"You have four hours of sleep you can get before you have to take your candy ass to work in the fucken morning, or else I'm gonna beat it into you," he hisses directly in my ear, his breath cold and loud so close to me. Jesus, fuck. What did his parents feed him as a child? It shouldn't be this easy for him.

"Oh, I don't do what you want and now you threaten physical violence. Very mature," I mock, reaching out to grip the doorframe of Mike's bedroom, purely to piss him off.

"Save me the dramatics," he snaps in a whisper, wrapping one arm tighter around my waist and using the other to bat my hands away from the frame. I can tell he's genuinely trying not to hurt me, his grip on one wrist firm but careful.

"Just let me write one page," I try.

"That's what you said last night," he says, still trying to pull my hand away. My nails have dug into the frame, making it slightly harder. I can sense his irritation growing. "You got two hours of sleep."

"That's not going to kill me," I argue.

"You haven't slept for more than two hours in a week," he says.

One nail breaks against the frame, making me lose my grip and sending pain down my arm from the awkward angle at which the pressure had snapped it off. I wince slightly, which gives Mike slight pause as he checks my hand, but decides I'm alright before he begins dragging me towards the bed in earnest.

"Why is it so hard for you to just take care of yourself?" Mike asks in frustration.

"I take care of myself!" I say defensively. Mike drops me onto the bed, standing in front of me to prevent any new attempts at escape.

"No, you don't," he says, quiet but firm. "You sit and stare at your notebook and you don't do anything else if you can help it. You sleep for two hours, you go to work, you hardly eat, you don't have energy anymore." Mike's hands are planted firmly on his hips, his nostrils flailing as he tries to take collected, calm breaths. "I care about you. Why can't you?"

"Michael-"

"Stop!" Mike snaps, groaning and turning away from me with a sharp spin on his heel. He buries his hands in his hair in frustration, now pacing between the bed and the door, quietly shutting it so we can argue in peace.

"Why are you so upset?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because I don't want to see you live like this. I am concerned and every time I bring it up you dismiss me, you joke, you don't care and I hate that," Mike says, temporarily stopped in his tracks to point at me as he seethes. "I'm watching you waste away and you know what? I'm starting to think part of you likes it."

"Excuse me?" I say, astounded. I cross my arms in front of my chest, cocking my head at him in a way to say 'I dare you to repeat that.'

"You heard me," Mike says, taking a step towards me. "It's like you cannot for one iota of a second conceive of some world where taking care of yourself is a good use of your time. You work, and work until you've burned yourself out so horribly you rot in bed for a month. And unless you're staying here, I hear nothing from you. Not a call, not a fuck you or whatever. It's like you're punishing yourself."

"Now who's being dramatic?" I say.

"See? I can't even point this out without you getting defensive, which just shows you know you're in the wrong!" Mike turns away from me once more, resuming his path of restless walking.

"Why do you even care?" I ask genuinely. This makes him pause again, his glare once more returning to me as he mentally questions my intelligence.

"You know what, I don't know!" Mike snaps, his voice gaining volume. "You are insistent in this fucking- slow method suicide and I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me!"

"I never asked you to care," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I never asked to care!" Mike nearly shouts, leaning in close to my face and sneering at me.

This breaks the tension.

His face falls as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widening slightly like my own eyes. This comment shouldn't really sting. I shouldn't let it. But it does. And for a moment, I do. And he sees that clearly.

"... oh," I say softly, my arms relaxing and shoulders sagging ever so slightly as I drop his gaze, trying to shut off my emotions before they're obvious.

"I'm sorry," Mike says quickly, stumbling to his knees in front of me. "I didn't mean that-"

"It's fine," I say, trying to remain as blank as my pages on the kitchen table.

"I just said it to be hurtful," Mike says quickly, his hand reaching up to cup my face. I take it away, turning my head to the side slightly. There's a new chill in the air, one I can feel seizing my chest.

"You weren't," I say. "I'm going to sleep."

"Please, I don't want-"

"I'm going to sleep," I say forcefully, shoving him away and turning to begin undressing from my work clothes that I still wore. Mike is silent behind me, probably thinking, and I'm close to not being able to hold myself together anymore.

"Get out!" I snap, flinging my shirt at him in a rage and beginning to stand from the bed to chase him out. He doesn't need anymore prompt, quickly scurrying out from the room to wherever it is he'll sleep now. Probably on the couch even though there's another room down the hall. A self induced punishment. Knowing him he probably won't even allow himself a blanket or pillow, feeling the cold air fitting for his selfishness.

Good.

When I wake that morning, I can smell breakfast in the air. My stomach hurts from skipping meals, but I don't want to eat. First of all, I haven't worked for a meal. There's still plenty to be done with my drafts. And food is a good encouragement to keep working. Second, I didn't ask him to care. And he didn't ask for it either. There probably isn't enough for me, and if there is, he and Abby can debate between the two who will have it. I need to shower.

I take forever washing myself. If that's what you want to call it. It was moreso standing under hot water, letting it run cold until I couldn't stand it anymore and hoping my deodorant is able to do some heavy lifting today. I barely have enough time to get to work, passing silently by Mike and not turning when he calls my name, walking out the door as fast as I can without running.

He follows me outside, something shaking in a bag behind me. When I finally open my car door I'm forced to have my gaze in his direction, his body between the door frame and my car door, presenting me with a bag of lunch.

"Please eat," he begs, placing the bag in my lap unceremoniously and then quickly stepping away and shutting the door himself.

There's a small moment where he and I just share at each other through the glass, time slipping away without notice. He hasn't slept, he'll be late for work if he doesn't get dressed soon, and the bag on top of my thighs is warm. Fresh. A petty part of me wants to roll down my window and throw away the meal, back out of the drive way and let that fester in his mind out of hate. He thinks words can hurt? Actions are so much worse.

But there's something in his eyes. Defeated, resigned. Childlike is almost the word I could use. In front of my car is the 12 year old boy who tried to chase down his brother, the 18 year old who decided to sacrifice his life raising his little sister while saying goodbye to his parents, and the 27 year old man who's just trying to keep everything together.

I don't know what to say to this child. Or to the man.

So, with the turn of my key in the ignition, I don't.

It's late when I come home. When the manager had asked me to stay late I almost called Mike to break the silence and tell him this. But there was still a part of me that didn't care whether or not he knew. Really, I didn't have to return home tonight. I could go back to my apartment and just let him rot in bed the way he claims I do. How could he say such a thing, anyways? I rot in bed? What about the days I've walked into the house and he hasn't slept all week, where he's claiming he's trying to kick his medication and he'll get the hang of it soon. Where his sister is eating every meal almost burnt because he can't think straight enough to remember time. Where I've had to coax, beg, demand of him that he just takes a pill because he's laying on the side of the bed, small and curled in on himself, dead eyed and obviously tired but still not sleeping. One time I slipped it into his food. And I felt awful. Do not think for a moment I wanted to do that. There was a betrayel in his eyes when sleep began to overtake him. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but he must've. Some tell in the drugs effect that made him aware his rest was not voluntary. But I didn't care. I stroked his hair through the night, and I'll do it again. He could hate me however long he needed to, he just needed sleep first.

The irony still hasn't struck me when I walk through the door of his house, well past dinner, Abby in the bath. The door was left unlocked, which is unusual for this time of night. Mike jumps from the couch the minute I open the door, standing with his hands by his side anxiously pulling at the edge of his oversized sweater.

Everything's oversized with him. The thought occurs to me that his father was slightly bigger.

"Don't leave me," he says quietly, his voice small and pathetic like him. But I don't say that with hate.

"I just got home," I say. "Be a bit odd to leave again."

I try a smile, but it's artificial and we both know it's only for his comfort. It doesn't touch him, his eyes glassy and lips slightly parted the same way a child's is when they're trying to breathe as their sinuses spring to life in wake of forming tears.

"I didn't mean it," he says, still standing in the same place. If I was a better person I'd probably run to him. But I'm not.

If I were a better person, I'd say I believe him. But I don't. And suddenly my throat is swollen with hurt, my own bottom lip is sticking out and now we're both trying not to cry because this is so overly taxing. We're adults but emotions are hard. Vulnerability is hard. It is a damnation that we both detest, both avoid. In better states we would joke about this, would laugh and tease the other for not having the emotional capability to voice our thoughts. But we're not. So we don't. And now we're crying openly in the off-putting, attempted to look cozy living room that we can never fully relax in.

"I don't wanna lose you," he says between small hiccups, hands now balled into fists that he buries under opposite armpits, shifting his weight so that he doesn't look so small. His glances bounce between me and the hallway table, never fixing on either of us as he tries to state his mind like an adult. "I've barely had you."

In my heart there has been a constant ache, hurt flowing and pumping through my veins like the blood that ran cold last night at his hurtful words. His apologetic words make the ache somehow worse.

"I don't mean to be a burden to you," I say softly, feeling a small, stray tear break the fluid barrier of my waterline to race down my cheek, allowing a pathway to the fatter drops that threaten to quickly follow.

Mike's face shifts, stepping towards me and holding out his arms.

"No, never," he says just as soft, trying to comfort me. I freeze as he approaches, my body stiffening as I try to swallow the lump and convince myself that I can survive his touch. His touch that I normally crave the moment I'm around him, that I seek in the dark of night even when the bed is overheating, that I'd go insane without.

"I've never asked you to care," I say, voice breaking and tears rolling freely now.

"I know," he says into my neck, which is wetting as he shakes around me, his grasp firm and careless of whether or not it's too much.

"I don't mean to cause problems. I just...." I don't know what I mean, how I wish to finish the statement. If I was clever, I could. If I was clever, I wouldn't even be in this problem to begin with.

"I'm just scared," he chokes out, his breathing horrible as he struggles to keep his crying from being obvious. "You look sick all the time and I don't want that."

He's told me the story. His mother wasting away, thinning and slipping, starving and dying. How he'd returned home to a baby wailing in her crib as their mothers body lay in a pool of blood he never really got out of the carpet. He lied to me initially when I saw it the first time, said it was wine. It wasn't until we had a few glasses ourselves that his eyes glazed over and he told me. It was disturbing how neutral he kept himself to the subject. A habit he'd developed much too long ago to break.

"Mike-"

"I try, and I try and if something doesn't give soon I'm gonna fucking lose it," he sobs into my skin, arms tightening around me.

"If what doesn't give?" I ask softly, trying to pull him away to look into his eyes. But he doesn't budge, sobbing a little bit harder and gripping a little bit tighter. He doesn't respond, simply shaking as he breathes heavily against me through his mouth.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to wrap my arms around him, failing and giving up as I realize his grip is too tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

His mouth closes a little, quieting his breathing slightly as he sniffles.

"I'm an idiot, but I'm not suicidal," I say softly, trying again for a joke. He doesn't laugh, but he does pull away slightly to look at my face, lips swollen and quivering as he blinks at me.

"You scare me," he says quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. He's watching my lips, but I think that's because that's the closest he can get to making eye contact.

"I scare you?" I ask, furrowing my brows. I lick my dry, cracked lips for comfort. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he says shakily, sighing as though it were exhausting to admit while still holding that nervous flicker in his eyes. "Because when I think about not being with you the house seems colder. And I can't go back to hating this house."

I open my mouth to respond, but there's more.

"Because I love your stupid smile when you're excited, or how you do that cricket leg thing when you're falling asleep. Or how if you want my attention you'll bury your head in my chest and pretend you're doing it in your sleep even though I won't judge you for doing it while you're awake."

"I don't-"

"I love how defensive you get over things like that," he says, bringing one hand to cup my cheek, resting his thumb that smells like the creamy lavender handsoap next to the bathroom sink on my lips. "I love how you look waking up next to me, how you play with Abby. And for a really long time I didn't see myself ever having kids, but when I see you curling her hair at the kitchen table I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just took up another job and saved money so that we could-"

"Mike-"

"Stop cutting me off," he says gently, his eyes finally meeting mine with just the smallest smile. "It's rude."

At that I do stop, my body finally relaxing into his grasp as I lean into him and his touch.

"I want things I haven't wanted since before Garret went missing," he says, stroking my lip. "And I want them with you."

Dinner was just as delicious as lunch, even if it was late. And the bed is soft like our voices as we make plans for years down the line. And after a week long break, the pages are finally filled once again.

Just like us.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Literally had a come to Jesus moment while writing this that not only do I fear being vulnerable irl, but in writing too. Nearly threw up while writing this. Book aable feet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

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doberbutts · 5 months

Note

weird question, but is there a reason why humans with rabies don't become as mindlessly aggressive as animals with rabies? like, how come people with rabies aren't running around biting everyone?

If I'd hazard a guess, it probably cooks us before we progress that far. Additionally, it also likely has something to do with natural instinct- humans with rabies while they are still able to talk report feeling intense fear and pain while experiencing hallucinations.

Most humans actively don't want to hurt other people- I have a schizophrenic aunt and even in her worst delusions and hallucinations where she may be screaming threats, she's never actually followed through on any of them because she genuinely doesn't want to hurt anyone when she's capable of processing situations logically. Similarly, I have a friend-of-a-friend who is also severely mentally ill, and the only times he's ever hurt someone are when he gets grabbed while he's hallucinating that someone is trying to hurt him. Those he's lashed out at in this state get shoved or kicked or punched before he continues to try to get away from them (they also forgive him immediately because they are his caretakers and understand his mental state very well).

When we started using tools as a species, we also stopped reaching for "biting you" as a defensive response unless there is truly no other choice. Even in the grips of intense fear and panic and pain and delusion and hallucination and paranoia, humans are more likely to choose literally any other option than teeth unless that's their last line of defense. We probably did bite each other back when we were no different than our great ape cousins.

More or less, I'm not entirely convinced that rabies sends signals for "bite" specifically, and is more sending signals for "attack", and humans don't really reach for "bite" when attacking as a general rule unlike other animals. Humans who are restrained in their hospital beds are significantly more likely to bite their caregivers- shoving, kicking, and punching are out of the question when you're tied down. That is true regardless of if they have rabies or not.

Additionally, the virus seems to only progress so far before it stagnates at a specific stage in certain animals. Bats are significantly more likely to have "dumb rabies" than "furious rabies". This could be due to a number of things ranging from "dumb rabies makes them incapable of flight and fucks up their sonar [true!] and so they starve to death before symptoms can progress past that [theory!] since they have fast metabolisms and missing even a single night's meal is devastating to their health [true!]" to "bats show some resistance to rabies as a whole [true!] and thus it may take much longer for symptoms to progress in the usual manner and so the bat generally dies before it can go any further [theory!]" Bats CAN progress to the furious stage, but we don't tend to see it as often.

There has never been a recorded instance of rabies passing from human to human so my money's on a combo of the two theories. It's very possible that Grug The Caveman got rabies from the wolves he was trying to tame and then wiped out his entire society by zombie-biting the fuck out of everyone who tried to help him. But we weren't writing things down at that point, so we have no way of knowing.

Rabies' first documentation is 4000 years ago- but it's very possible it existed before that, since the writing just states that the owner of a rabid dog needs to take provisions against it biting anyone, meaning we knew by then what rabies was and that the bite was dangerous. It's very possible this disease has followed us around since before humans harnessed fire and invented the wheel. That's a decent amount of un-accounted-for time for humans to have hulked out and started zombie-biting.

We have so many folkstory monsters in nearly every culture on the planet that boil down to "had contact with an animal that was acting strangly, turned me into a savage monster that tries to kill everything I see less than a month later, btw my monster disease is super contagious and I spread it by biting the fuck out of you" that predate any modern science knowledge of how the virus works, which makes me think that it probably did happen back in the caveman days and it's ancestrial memory that has us clinging to these concepts to this day.

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elliesbelle · 11 months

Text

nobody compares to you

chapter 3

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of vomit, a little bit enemies to lovers, minors do not interact

word count: 1.6k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

The sunshine streaming from your bedroom window wakes you up that Sunday morning. You groan as you lazily get up from bed to close the blinds before returning to your bed with a flop.

After five seconds of loud moans of grogginess muffled into your pillow, you lay on your side to check your phone. You thank past you for remembering to charge it before completely passing out when you got home last night.

Two messages from “D Money 💛” and six from the group chat with your other friends are what you noticed first.

Looking in the group chat, it was your friends Astrid and Tara texting along the lines of, “who’s nursing a massive hangover rn, woohoo 🎉 good job ladies.”

A half smile forms on your lips but you decide not to respond for now, still a little annoyed at your irresponsible friends and their antics.

You then proceed to open Dina’s texts from this morning.

You glance at the time on your phone. 8:16. You have a bit of time to get decent, not that Dina hasn’t seen you in worse conditions.

Groaning, you force yourself off your bed. The only item of clothing from last night that you’d shed were your boots. You peel off the rest and toss them to the side, making a mental note to actually put them in your hamper later.

You rummage through your dresser for a set of house clothes. Settling on an old high school t-shirt and grey sweatpants, you head towards your bathroom.

You lived in an off-campus apartment that was just a 15-minute walk away from your school. You had it all to yourself, which you were originally reluctant about, but you later came around to.

Entering the bathroom and blinded by the bright white lights, you place your clothes on the sink and finally look at your reflection in the mirror.

The state you’re in has present you chastising past you for not getting ready for bed properly. Your hair is in utter disarray, eye makeup and false eyelashes all askew, lipstick more on your cheek than on your actual lips.

Hot fucking mess, minus the hot.

After attacking your face with several makeup wipes, you hop in the tub for a well-deserved hot shower.

It’s while you were rinsing off the shampoo from your hair that you finally allowed yourself to think about Ellie.

What the fuck was that last night? Did that really happen? Was I that fucked up and imagined the whole thing? No. Dina’s coming over for a reason. It must have been true.

You let the shower water run over your back for much longer than you needed, finding comfort in the heat. After finishing up, you tiptoe out of the bath while shivering from the absence of warm water. You walk into the living room five minutes later, freshly showered with comfortable clothes on, teeth brushed, and your wet hair wrapped in your bath towel.

Settling on your small grey couch, you decide to scroll through your phone mindlessly while you wait for Dina’s arrival. New texts were waiting in your friends' group chat, but you disregard them once more, deciding you were not in the mood and that you have nothing useful to contribute anyway.

After a while, you hear the sound of keys unlocking your front door. This doesn’t surprise you as Dina (and Jesse) have a set of keys to your place. You think about her previous comment about “pounding at your door” when you both knew she’d just do this anyway and chuckle.

You glance at the time. 8:55.

Oh, she means business.

Dina walks in carrying a coffee carrier with two cups wedged in it. Dropping the keys on the dining room table, she locks the door behind her. She looks up at you and smiles widely.

“Oh, look who’s up and presentable!”

“Semi-presentable.”

“Did you shower just for me?” Dina says, placing her free hand on her chest and gasping dramatically as she approaches you. You chuckle inwardly over how similar her mannerisms are to Jesse’s. You silently envy the intimacy they share.

“I didn’t want to subject you to a disgusting, hungover version of myself after last night.”

“Babe, first of all. I have seen you in far worse conditions. Second, you were nowhere near the most disgusting of everyone last night,” Dina says, placing the coffee carrier on the coffee table in front of you. “Tara apparently was cleaning her shoes off for about an hour after she got home last night ‘cause Astrid decided to throw up all over them.”

You scrunch up your face in disgust.

“Gross. And okay, fair.”

You point at one of the coffee cups.

“That mine?”

Dina smiles and says, “Mocha frappe with extra syrup and extra whipped cream.”

You reach for the large plastic cup of coffee with a straw poking out of a swirl of whipped cream decorated with chocolate syrup.

“You are a saint among mortals, D.”

She gives you a big smile and sits on the opposite end of your couch, kicking off her shoes and burying her feet underneath one of your throw pillows.

“How are you even awake right now?” You ask before taking a sip of your coffee.

“Sheer willpower. Plus Tara had an early shift at Ruston Coffee earlier, so she let me cut the line for our coffees.”

You notice that her cup is already drunk from.

Licking some whipped cream from your top lip, you question, “So do you wanna tell me why you’re at my apartment at 9 A.M. on a Sunday morning?”

“What, can I not bring my dear friend her favourite drink while she’s hungover?” She asks jokingly.

You give her a look. This is something that Dina very much would do. But you know that there are ulterior motives this time.

Dina sighs.

“Can we talk about whatever happened with Ellie last night?”

“Nope.”

“Babe—”

“There’s nothing to talk about, D. Really.” You assure her, making sure to take a long sip from your straw to avoid elaborating further.

“Look. I love both you and Els dearly. And after almost three years with you and around fifteen or so with Ellie, I know that you’re both incredibly stubborn and repress your feelings to an unhealthy extent.”

“I don’t—” You begin, but Dina holds a hand up.

“Yes, you do. And I understand why. Especially with what you’ve gone through the past few years.”

You gulp and avert your eyes elsewhere.

“I don’t like seeing my friends in pain,” Dina says softly. “Especially not when I can do something about it, or at least try to help. You’ve gone through enough. I just want to be there for you as much as I can.”

You look back at her and meet her sympathetic eyes. You understand why Jesse has stayed in love with her after all these years. You understand why Dina had so many friends and was well-loved by so many. You know you were lucky to feel loved by her.

“I love you, Dina. Thank you.” You say, teary-eyed. You reach your hand out to her.

She holds hers out and squeezes yours softly.

“Anything for you, honey.” She says.

You pull your hand back to wipe away tears before they fall.

“Anyway,” You sniff. “Did you come here to make me cry or—?”

She chuckles.

“Sorry about that. But I came to talk about Ellie.”

You sigh, relenting.

“What about her?”

She looks at you intensely for a moment or so, seemingly choosing her words carefully.

“I want you to be completely honest with me.” She starts, placing her coffee cup on the table. “Are you still in love with Ellie?”

Your breath hitches.

“No.” You say, a little too quickly.

“I said to be honest, babe.” She replies, apprehensively.

“I’m not in love with her!”

Dina holds her hands up defensively.

“Okay, okay! If that’s the answer you want to give me right now, that’s fine.”

You glare at her.

“You know that I know the truth, even if you refuse to admit it to me or even to yourself.” She says, looking at your indignant expression. “You can be mad all you want, it’s okay.”

“Why are you asking this?” You question.

Dina places an elbow on the couch’s arm and rests her head in her hand.

“Jesse and I were just watching you two last night. And there’s obviously a lot of unresolved shit there.”

You begin anxiously playing with your straw.

“If being mad at her for the rest of my life counts as unresolved shit, then sure.”

“Babe,” Dina continues. “If this were some two-month fling of Ellie’s where she screwed them over, I wouldn’t bother. But it’s you, and I know you both still care about each other. You think I didn’t notice Ellie going after you to the bathroom last night?”

You gulp, remembering how observant Dina and Jesse were of both your absences from the table the previous night.

“She was just being nosy.” You mutter.

“About? Wait, you don’t need to tell me that part if you don’t want. But did you two actually talk about anything?”

You sigh and say in one quick breath, “I basically told her to fuck off and that my feelings don’t actually matter to her and that I’m not her friend or her girlfriend and that she has no obligation to me.”

Dina’s eyes widen.

“Ah.”

author's notes:

i'm so sorry for such a short chapter!! i didn't want to overfill this one cause i really planned for this to be short BECAUSE the next chapter is going to be quite a novel! (sorry not sorry)

is reader's fave coffee order a mocha frappe because my fave coffee order is a mocha frappe? no, who told you that?

as always, let me know what you think! likes & reblogs are appreciated AND very much welcome :)

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr

please let me know if i missed you in the taglist or if you’d like to be added! ♡︎

#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #belle speaks #belle writes

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eowyntheavenger · 2 months

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Hi! I saw your post on telling Americans to vote, and I was wondering what you think of posts from people from other parts of the world who are calling Americans evil for voting for Biden because of his support for Israel. I've seen a few already. They seem to be completely convinced that Americans deliberately voted for Biden specifically to side against Palestine and no other reason, and spread the general (pretty ignorant and hateful) message of "Americans are evil because of the actions of their government and because they collectively refuse to vote for a president who is good and not simply 'the lesser of two evils'". It frustrates me because they seem to think they're experts on US politics, culture, and society and have all the answers, but it also makes me concerned because it reminds me of the whole Russian bot thing from last time. Like, I'm 99% sure the people reblogging these posts aren't Russian bots (don't know about the OPs though), and they unquestioningly believe this. What do you think of this and how would you go about addressing this issue? Do you think it's possible to get them to understand how little they actually know about the US and how they're actually promoting a message that makes things worse for everyone? I've also seen less scathing posts that are just disheartened and don't seem to believe the democrats are truly better to vote for than the republicans and so it's just two sides of the same coin. To be fair, I think that sort of feeling is only further encouraged because there didn't really seem to be much if any progress made with Biden, not even back to square one after Trump moved the country so far backwards. I think most Americans really wish the elections actually had good candidates and they could pick the best of two goods, but are frustrated and stuck with the current system and don't know how to actually get to the point where there are good candidates. (Though personally I think voting for the one who isn't actively trying to make themselves a king with unlimited terms is a decent start. I can understand the frustration though.)

Hi! Thanks for the ask. This stuff worries me too. I've gotten comments on my posts like that too, telling me/other Americans that we're evil for voting for Biden.

But I've seen a much larger number of comments and posts from people outside the United States BEGGING us to vote for Biden. I literally get tags like that on my posts EVERY DAY urging Americans to vote blue. So I think that's valuable context, even if it doesn't solve the problem of the "I hate everybody who votes for Biden" crowd.

And yes, it's definitely a shitty argument on their part to claim that people voting for Biden are specifically siding against Palestine. Literally every single person I know in real life and online who plans to vote for Biden has been criticizing and protesting his policies on Palestine.

In terms of convincing the anti-voters that they're wrong, honestly, I don't know. They don't listen to reason and they seem intent on spreading despair. Some of Biden's policies have been terrible (Willow oil-drilling project), some of them have been downright evil (military aid to Israel), but I'm a rational person and I know that Trump is worse in every respect.

I've tried debating them. It's been pointless every time. They genuinely don't know how the government works, which scares me. Common takes include: 1) a genuine lack of awareness of how pro-Israel Trump and the right wing are, combined with magical thinking that a virtually unknown third party candidate can win the presidential election, 2) truly impressive mental gymnastics blaming Biden for the overturn of Roe v. Wade, and 3) continuing the mental gymnastics to blame Biden and the Democrats for anti-trans policies...

I guess my advice is to either ignore them and move on, or debunk things when you have time/energy? It's easier said than done, I know. There's nothing more annoying than someone being stupid on the internet, especially when they accuse you of stuff that just isn't true, and especially when they're spreading dangerous misinformation or voter-suppression rhetoric.

Like you, I'm highly suspicious of anyone who advocates AGAINST voting, or against voting blue. And I agree, many of these people are not bots, like you said, but I call them useful idiots, because they're doing the bots' work for them.

The one thing you said that I'm going to push back on is "there didn't really seem to be much if any progress made with Biden." Biden's actually made lots of progress on a variety of issues, and reversed some of Trump’s damage, it just doesn't get a lot of fanfare and it’s unfortunately happening at the same time as Republican gains in state legislatures and while they control the Supreme Court. But Biden and his administration have:

• invested billions in green architecture and clean energy, including making sure federal investments benefit low-income communities

• introduced new fines for companies' methane emissions

• introduced a plan to cut the federal government's greenhouse gas emissions by 65% by 2030 (that includes the military, which is a huge emitter)

• passed a huge bill for improving the country's infrastructure, including bridges, roads, broadband and more

• introduced first-ever national strategy on gender equality and equity and pushed Congress to pass the Equal Rights Amendment

• fought for women's reproductive rights after the overturn of Roe v. Wade

• put more women, people of color, and women of color on the federal bench than any of his predecessors combined

• nominated Kentaji Brown Jackson as the first Black woman to serve on the Supreme Court

• boosted funding to historically Black colleges

• ordered the DOJ to end the use of private prisons by the federal government

• pardoned thousands of people convicted on federal marijuana charges

• created a White House office of gun violence prevention

• passed the Respect for Marriage Act, guaranteeing federal rights and benefits for same-sex couples

• rolled out a series of actions to protect the rights and safety of the LGBTQ+ community, including protecting queer and trans foster youth, improving access to mental health services, and addressing the rise in hate crimes

• challenged discriminatory state bans against gender-affirming care and trans athletes

• called to support trans youth in State of the Union address and restored the White House tradition of recognizing Pride Month

• changed passport rules so that people can obtain a passport with no gender marker

• examined efforts by each federal agency to advance LGBTQ+ rights around the world

• reversed Trump's transgender military ban

• protected the rights of incarcerated trans people

• forgave billions in student debt, repeatedly, and introduced penalties for college programs that trap students in debt

• slashed bank overdraft fees

• expanded guaranteed overtime pay for millions of people

• made union-busting harder

• prevented discriminatory mortgage lending

• made efforts to expand the child tax credit, which could lift hundreds of thousands of children out of poverty

• cracked down on agriculture monopolies to support farmers and small businesses

• made it so the government is going to start taking drug companies' patents away if they don't make affordable drugs

• made over-the-counter birth control pills available for the first time

• lowered the cost of hearing aids and expanded access to them

• spent millions of dollars on students' mental health

• reversed discriminatory healthcare rules

• reinvigorated cancer research

• announced plans to replace all leaded pipes in the next ten years as well as combatting lead exposure abroad

• changed rules for how people can get aid after disasters so they can get more protection and immediate payments more easily

• introduced new data privacy rules protecting people from tech companies

• pushed the federal government to monitor AI risks

• maintained steadfast support for Ukraine in the face of Russian aggression

• maintained steadfast support for Taiwan in the face of Chinese intimidation

• strengthened ties with allies in Asia and the Pacific Islands

• pledged climate change assistance to low-lying Pacific Island countries

• literally IMMEDIATELY after being elected, Biden fortified DACA, rejoined the Paris Agreement, and ended Trump's discriminatory "Muslim ban", ended the Keystone XL Pipeline and fossil duel development in wildlife monuments, (same as last link) rejoined the WHO, strengthened COVID-19 response measures on a variety of fronts, re-included non-citizens in the U.S. census, and passed executives orders on racial equity in the federal government

And I'm sure there's more I left out.

There are also things Biden does that literally don’t make the news, but matter a lot, like funding the Postal Service, and continuing to have a State Department so we can conduct overseas diplomacy (Trump tried to defund the USPS and wants to purge the State Department and fill it with loyalists).

#asks #US politics #Biden administration #I'm planning to make an even more comprehensive post at some point #my post

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ethan-hawke · 1 year

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hey guys, i’m gonna be very real with y’all.... i’ve been in a major funk financially and mentally and with my health insurance ending after this month, it's added even more stress to my overall mental state. after weeks of searching for a decent job, but to no avail, i finally said, you know what? fuck it! why not do something that actually makes me happy?! so i’ve made the decision to try my hand at doing commissions with the skills i’ve acquired over the years. it’s a new venture for me, but i feel like this could really put me in a better mind set and help me financially since i will have to start paying out of pocket for all of my medical needs + other bills i’m responsible for which could get extremely pricey

here's a list of what i can do for commissions:

gif sets (movies & celebs)

main blog theming (icons, mobile headers & sidebar gifs or photos)

tutorials (coloring, text, etc.)

psd’s for gifs & photos

to submit your commission(s), you can check out the details and pricing here. if you would still like to help without going this route, you can buy me a coffee on ko-fi and/or signal boost this post. any form of support is much appreciated, and i thank y'all from the bottom of my heart in advance! ♥︎

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flower-boi16 · 12 days

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Top 5 Best & Worst Characters in Hellaverse

So, for the most part, Hellaverse has pretty meh to bad characters. Buuuuut, there are a few decent/good ones, so, just for fun, let's go over the top 5 best AND worst characters in Hellaverse (in my opinion).

5. (Worst) Stella

So Stella. Stella, Stella, Stella...you had so much potential to be interesting...but you just...aren't. Just for the record I don't think making Stella abusive is a retcon since it doesn't contradict any of her past behavior in season 1 minus like...one background painting.

That's not really my problem with Stella being abusive. My problem is that it makes her boring and the show does that as a way to woobify Stolas. Really not much to say, she's just...boring.

5. (Best) Octavia

It's pretty funny how Octavia is pretty much the most beloved character in the critical community. She's both decently likable and is a bit interesting when you look at her, as she's a girl who was negatively affected by her fathers' actions and is dealing with the negative changes that have happened to her due to her parents always arguing...

...also her father is Stolas so she is therefore the most sympathetic character by default. Really, there aren't that many good characters in either Hazbin or Helluva, and Octavia isn't an amazing character, she only appears in like, two episodes, but she's still fine by herself and is one of Viv's better characters.

4. (Worst) Charlie

I already made a full post about the issues with my problems with Charlie as a character so I won't once again go very deeply here. You're probably wondering why Charlie is even here to begin with since I stated that I don't exactly hate her.

...well, just because I don't hate a character doesn't really mean I like that character. A majority of Hazbin's characters have similar problems of not being that developed at all and the development they do have often feels rushed. The reason why I put Charlie as the 4th worst character in Hellaverse is because, well, out of every character in Hazbin's main cast...Charlie is just kind of the one with the biggest issues.

Again, I already talked about my issues with Charlie in my post about her but just to recap; Charlie suffers from being heavily underdeveloped, she isn't a very compelling protagonist and has 0 growth throughout the show. She learns absolutely nothing. Her mentality is never once challenged by the narrative and she is always portrayed as right and anyone who disagrees with her is automatically wrong, and she also feels heavily overshadowed by the rest of the cast despite being the main character.

Charlie is also not the best person at times like some people have pointed out (she KNOWS THAT ANGEL IS BEING ABUSED and she chooses not to do anything about it. Wow, what a great friend), and overall she kinda sucks as a protagonist.

4. (Best) Lucifer

I've seen Lucifer gain a lot of flak from people with them calling him a bad person and it's not entirely unjustified. I can definitely understand why it may be hard to sympathize with the guy who literally greenlit annual genocides of his own people because he thought that they deserved death.

Not to mention him calling Charlie a "failure" in the pilot which is just...never addressed here. Also it's fairly weird that despite Lucifer being the sin of pride...he isn't really prideful of anything...? So ya, there a few issues with Lucifer as a character.

In spite of that though, I don't think that Lucifer is a particularly bad character. If anything, he's actually one of the more well-developed of the main cast and he has an arc that's decently compelling...?

He initially started out as a dreamer, someone with many creative and imaginative ideas for Heaven, but his ideas were always rejected and he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven.

After he was cast down to Hell as punishment for accidentally letting evil seep into the world, he lost his will to dream and fell into depression, having a heavily cynical view of Heaven and Hell due to his past experiences. He closes himself off and doesn't stay in contact with his loved ones, mainly his daughter due to his depression. He tries convincing Charlie into his cynical views because he doesn't want his own daughter to face the same crushing rejection he faced.

However, he reconnects with his daughter and brings back a spark in him that was lost long ago, and he promises to support Charlie and her dreams, despite his depression not immediately disappearing.

Admittedly that part is pretty rushed, like Charlie just says "but dad...mah people!!!!" and he's just like "ok". Again, it's not perfect and has some small issues, but compared to most of Hazbin and Helluva's other characters, Lucifer's arc is far more well-developed and is interesting in it's own right. If anything, Lucifer thinking that his people deserve death simply shows his cynical mindset that he's had for years, and Charlie's able to bring back that dreamer that was crushed long ago.

So ya. Lucifer is not amazing, but I like him. He's neat.

3. (Worst) Chaz

Chaz sucks. Chaz is a character that only exists just to make a bunch of unfunny sex jokes and nothing else. He is completely one-dimensional and is nothing more than a walking sex joke. And his "jokes" aren't even remotely funny.

I really don't have much to even say about Chaz. He's just THAT one-note.

3. (Best) Velvvette

I've talked about my thoughts on Velvvette before so I won't go too in depth here again. Buuut needless to say I think she's probably my favorite character in hellaverse. She's one of the few antagonists Viv's made that's actually entertaining and fun to watch, with a well-developed and charismatic personality that's not just "asshole who swears a lot". She isn't the best character in hellaverse though, but she has far more depth as a character compared to most of the other antagonists.

2. (Worst) Adam

I've spoken about my thoughts on Adam before multiple times so at this point I don't know if I have anything left to say about him. Adam is a boring, one-dimensional character with very little depth or personality as a character. He only exists just to be a pure straw character so he can be proven wrong by Charlie.

He can't have any real depth as a character because he only exists just to be torn down by the story. Again, already talked about that in a previous post so I won't go too in-depth here, but needless to say...ya, Adam still sucks.

2. (Best) Alastor

Like Lucifer, I've seen Alastor gain a heavy amount of criticism but personally, like Lucifer, I think Alastor is one of the better characters in the main cast. The has a sense of mystery and intrigue to him that makes him pretty interesting as a character. You're left wondering what his whole deal is & what he's planning.

That combined with Alastor's charisma makes him an entertaining antagonist for the show. He's one of the few characters that I'm interested in to see what they do with in the next season. So ya, I like Alastor...

Now time to get to a character that makes me want to punch myself in the face.

1. (Worst) Stolas

.....Honeslty what can even be said about Stolas that hasn't already been said? I've made so many posts complaining about this stupid owl and you already know my opinion of him at this point. If you really want to know every single critique of Stolas I have, read every post I've made that's tagged "anti stolas". But...I'll just say this.

Stolas could have been a good character. Hell, he could have been the show's BEST character. He had all the potential to be super interesting and compelling character with a great arc...but instead, Viv decided to completely retcon everything season 1 established in order to try and make Stolas an UwU soft boy the show REALLY wants us to sympathize for, in spite of Stolas being a bad person.

I'm sorry if I can't sympathize with the guy who SA's an lower class imp for his own pleasure and frequently neglects his own daughter and pays more attention to st. imp. And, as an artificial way to make Stolas sympathetic, the narrative has to wipe away any actual flaws he has and demonize any character that even remotely gets upset at his actions (which I talk about here), because god forbid we hold Stolas accountable for ANYTHING right? We have to coddle and absolve him of ALL his mistakes despite his flaws being what made him interesting in the first place.

Stolas NEVER grows or develops as a character because of this and so he has basically no character arc. Not only is he a poorly written mess of a character...he's also just BORING now. There's nothing interesting about him anymore, he's just an UwU sad sack. He had so much potential to be interesting but that potential was completely wasted in favor of this bullshit.

And THAT's what makes Stolas SO FRUSTRATING. Really, he pretty much represents HB, and, to an extent, all of Hellaverse as a whole; it started out good with a lot of interesting ideas and potential but through bad writing, all of that potential got squandered and now we're just left with a completely disappointing mess.

Stolas is the worst character in the show because he's the only one who legitimately FRUSTERATES me. He's my least favorite character in all of fiction and a complete mess.

1. (Best) Sera

I already talked about Sera before in a previous post so I won’t go too in depth here, but Sera is one of hellaverse’ better antagonists for having more depth and nuance as a character. She’s the head seraphim of Heaven and greenlit exterminations in order to protect Heaven….and Emily.

In spite of that though, she clearly doesn’t want to do this and is only doing it because she wanted to try and protect her people, and Emily, who she clearly cares deeply for as her older sister. She’s a lot more compelling as a character that most of hellaverse’ antagonists, not being good or evil but rather morally grey, having nuances to her as a character.

To me, Sera is the best character in all of Hellaverse because she's the one with the most nuance and depth compared to 90% of Viv's other characters, especially her antagonists. She actually has REAL DEPTH and complexities to her that make her a lot more interesting compared to most of Viv's characters. Hell, most of the characters in the best list are put there BECAUSE they are just more developed than most of the other characters (which just shows how bad Viv is at character writing)

Like Alastor, she's one of the few characters that I am interested in seeing what they do next with season 2, as she is likely going to get a redemption there. Well just have to see. But for now, Sera is the best character in all of Hellaverse.

So...ya...that was my top 5 best and worst characters in Hellaverse...

....bye.

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel criticism #anti stolas #spindlehorse critical #spindlehorse criticism

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sirfrogsworth · 16 days

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Clark Bridge in Alton, Illinois

These were not the photos I intended to take.

They were not the photos I had in my head.

A new friend had offered to help me with various things and one of those things was my photography field trips. We had been planning this for over a week and the day finally came. I was feeling okay, but not 100%. It was nearing sunset and I was getting all of my gear together. Then I decided I needed to find my ND filters (sunglasses for a camera). Which were downstairs in storage. And, stupidly, I spent 20 minutes digging through things to find them. And by the time I found them, I noticed I was out of breath. Usually when I lose my breath that quickly it is a bad sign. My body is telling me I'm probably not up to anything physical at that moment.

But, I really wanted to take some new pictures. My mental health has not been doing great and I just needed some photography therapy. So we headed to the location. When we reached our destination there was an uphill path to where we needed to go.

It was a warm 85° and I was still not recovered from my scavenger hunt despite the car ride. But I had to get my photo, so I didn't listen to my body. As we walked up the hill I just kept going slower and slower. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. And when I finally got to the top my body had almost no energy left to power itself. And when that happens and all of your vital body functions still demand energy, you can feel quite sick. I tried so hard to tough it out. I took a few test photos. And then I realized I had to either lay down or collapse.

This was my first time meeting this new friend in person. And she was very understanding and helpful. But it was still embarrassing having to lie down on some grass next to a public bike path. There was a moment when I was convinced I was going to need to call EMTs to carry me off that hill.

But I just gave my body a moment and let the bugs eat me as I rested in the sharp grass. And I slowly started to regenerate some energy and felt much less sick. But I could not take another photo. The test shots were all I was going to get. And we had to call it a night and get me back home.

Thankfully walking down a hill is much easier than walking up it. But as I walked down I could see the sun kissing the horizon. I could see the photograph I wanted to take. I was able to get something sort of like I wanted with my smartphone as we walked down the hill (the top photo) but the wide angle lens made the bridge look tiny and I was just frustrated it wasn't what was in my head.

I got home and passed out. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling pretty drained from the experience. But my body seemed to be back to a stable state. I finally looked at the few photos I managed to capture and they actually surprised me. The smartphone snap was way better than I was expecting and with some fancy editing it looked pretty close to the quality of my big camera. And I got that cool boat without even realizing it.

So it seems I can take decent photos by accident during a health crisis.

New talent unlocked.

The actual goal of the evening was to get to know my new friend. And that was 100% accomplished despite my embarrassment. She was very kind and reassured me everything was fine and there was nothing to be embarrassed about. I appreciated that empathy and that's a pretty admirable quality to have in a new friend.

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avatarmerida · 1 year

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Sweet Things

Writing pointless huntlow fluff in preparation for For The Future, indulge me.

---

“Wow Willow, you really went all out with the florals!” Luz exclaimed as she opened the door for the plant witch and her impressive selection of dahlias in every possible color.

“Thanks!” Willow said brightly, setting them down to go prepare a vase. “They reminded me of your mom’s tablecloth I found in the hall closet so I thought it would be a fun addition to our special dinner for tonight!”

“It’ll be like an explosion of color!” Luz exclaimed, examining the colorful folded fabric Willow had placed on the counter. “We haven’t gotten to use that tablecloth in awhile, it’s got a huge rip on the side from when I tried to use it as a parachute.”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice,” said Willow, making a mental note to ask about that story later on. “Well, I bet Hunter could fix it.” She finished filling the case with water and called out to the next room. “Hey, hon?”

“Yes?” Came Hunter’s voice, quickly followed by him sticking his head in the doorway.

“Do you think you could fix the tear in the table cloth for me? I wanna make the table look fancy and it matches the flowers I made for the center piece perfectly.”

“Of course!” Hunter said brightly, walking over to take the fabric from the counter. He gathered some sewing supplies from the drawer in the kitchen and set up at the kitchen table as he accessed the work that needed to be done.

“Yay! Thanks so much,” said Willow with a smile, placing the flowers in the vase and admiring the presentation. “I’m gonna go finish up some things outside then I’ll be back to help set the table.”

As Hunter and Willow went to carry on with their tasks, Luz said at the counter wondering if she had misheard Willow. As Hunter focused on his repair work, Luz looked at him with confusion as though an explanation was in order. After a minute, he looked up to find her eye on him and offered her his own look of confusion. “What?”

“Willow just called you ‘hon.’” She stated as though he wasn’t aware.

“Yeah?” he said, not seeing her point. “It’s short for Hunter, like Hun-ter.”

“Are you sure it’s not short for ‘honey?”

“I mean, she calls me that sometimes too,” he said nonchalantly. “But, I guess that’s not technically short for Hunter since it’s the same amount of syllables.”

“Hunter, Willow is not calling you honey because it’s short for Hunter.”

“I know, I just said it’s the same amount-.”

“No dude, I think she means honey likes actual honey.”

Well, maybe? I guess it’s probably because my hair is yellow which is the same color as honey.” Hunter reasoned. “I mean, her palisman is a bee so it makes sense she would know a decent amount about that.”

“Hmmm maybe,” said Luz, not convinced. “But I think it’s because she thinks you’re so sweet just like honey.” She reached out to pinch his cheek and used the baby voice she would speak to King with. “Aww, look at you! Willow’s widdle honey baby boy.”

“Stop that!” he said, turning his face away from her. “It’s probably just because she really likes bees-.”

“Or because she really likes yoooou.” said Luz, not convinced or willing to be wrong about this. “Alot of people call someone honey when they’re, ya know, more than friend.”

The tips of Hunter’s ears turned bright red at the suggestion.

“W-w-well that’s just silly!” He said, not sounding like he believed his own words. “I’ve never heard you and Amity call each other that!”

“No, but she calls me her batata which means sweet potato,” said Luz.

“Do... all terms of endearment have to be food related?”

“I mean, I guess not?” said Luz. “But honey is a pretty common one.”

“What are... other common ones?” Said Hunter clearing his throat, trying to seem like he was focused on his sewing and internally hyperventilating about how oblivious he possibly was.

“Whyyyy?” Asked Luz with a smirk that seemed to read his mind.

“No reason, just curious,” he lied, as there very much was a reason.

“I dunno like ‘sweetie’ I guess?” Luz racked her mind for a list of examples.

Hunter squeaked. Luz looked over and saw he had stabbed himself with a needle, as though something about what she said had distracted him.

She gave a little gasp. “Does she call you sweetie?” Luz asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Sometimes?”

“Hunter!”

“She calls me a lot of things!” He said, sucking on the tip of the finger he has stabbed. “I mean, okay, she calls me flower names-.”

“What? Like what?!”

“She calls me daffodil, sometimes...” Hunter said quietly, the redness from his ears spreading to the rest of his face. “And like, sunflower I guess. But it’s not-.”

“Well you can’t deny that Willow loves flowers,” teased Luz with a smirk. ”Awww, are you her little flower?”

“Wellmaybeiamandyourejustjealous.” Hunter mumbled quickly and almost too quietly.

“What was that?” Luz joyfully inquired.

“Maybe I am and you’re just jealous,” repeated Hunter, not looking at her as he tried to focus on threading his needle. “I mean, you can’t expect me to believe that Willow doesn’t give nicknames to anyone else.”

“There’s a difference between a nickname and a term of endearment.”

That much Hunter did know. He knew what titles commanded respect and which ones were meant to ridicule. The only other nicknames he had received had been negative or ironic, two things Willow was definitely not towards him. He knew the nicknames she gave him came from a place of admiration, but he never dared to dream that it was such a... unique admiration.

“So like, someone would use these terms for someone they... liked?” Hunter asked carefully.

“More than just liked.” Luz said. “Like, liked-liked.”

“Sometimes like which times?” Hunter asked urgently. “Like, is it possible it’s just a coincidence and it’s just purely platonic because Willow just has a vast knowledge of plants that resemble my hair color?”

“I mean, some people use them that way, yeah,” said Luz trying to hide the delight she took in Hunter’s panicked expression. “But I’ve never heard Willow call anyone else ‘honey.’ In fact, I think that’s what her dads call each other. Ya know, her dads who are in looove.”

“So that could be... why.” Hunter said slowly, unable to deny that it made sense. Unable to deny that he was kind of glad that it did.

“Do you have any nicknames for her?” Luz asked, putting her hand under her chin as she took delight in watching Hunter process this new possibility.

“I mean, I call her Captain but that’s more her title than a nickname,” said a Hunter, searching his mind. “Should I have one for her?”

“I mean, if you want to, yeah,” said Luz. “It’s not like a requirement or anything but it could be a cute way to let her know that you like her too.”

“I’m not... very good nicknames,” admitted Hunter and Luz noted happily that he did not deny the implication that he liked Willow. “Most of the ones I've given have had more literal connotations and not in a nice way. And I’ve never really had a reason to use a term of endearment, what are some good ones?”

“My dude, you’ve come to the right place,” assured Luz, pulling out her phone where she kept a list in her notes for just such an occasion.

Hunter sat at the table looking down at his hands as he practiced what he wanted to say in his head. When Willow walked through the door he stood up, holding the folded tablecloth close to his chest as she reentered the kitchen, trying to seem relaxed.

“Oh, uh hi!” He said as though he had not been waiting for her to return. He held the result of his labor out to her. “I finished the tablecloth. Good as new.”

“Oh no, it’s even better!” She smiled, taking it from him to admire the skillful repair. She unfolded it and twirled around the kitchen with it like she had just been given a gown for the ball. “Now it’s got that special Hunter touch, thanks so much buttercup!”

“Of course!” He said, taking the use of the word as a sign to test the waters. “Anytime... babe.”

Willow stopped spinning as her ears perked at the word and she quickly turned her head from admiring the craftsmanship to looking at him in slight disbelief. “What did you say?”

Hunter gulped. Maybe she really just hadn’t heard him?

“I said, uh, anytime babe.” He repeated quicker, leaning against the doorframe hoping it sounded more natural this time as he landed the sentiment with finger guns. He tried not to linger on the word so it wouldn’t seem like her was trying so hard but he did want her to notice so she would notice that he noticed that she-

“Oh, yeah,” Willow cleared her throat. “That’s uh, that’s what I thought you said.” Her voice seemed labored, as though she was trying to adjust her breathing. “Well, uh thanks again... uh Hunter.”

Just Hunter? No marigold? No honey? Not even dandelion? Titan, he had ruined everything! Why had he listened to Luz? Willow hadn’t been calling him those things because she liked him more than a friend! She was just being creative!

“Of course, of course,” he said, now seeing it was his turn to steady his breathing. “Maybe we should uh, start setting up the table? Camila will be back with the take out soon.”

“Yeah, I wonder if we’ll need any sugar.” Willow pondered, still learning when sugar was needed and when salt was meant to be put out.

“Any what?” Hunter asked as though she had not finished her thought.

Willow looked at him with a raised eyebrow before she understood what he thought he had heard her say. “Oh no, I meant actual sugar, like for the table.” Willow clarified, a soft crimson dancing across the bridge of her nose as she realized he had a reason to be confused; she had called him that numerous times.

“Right, right yes of course,” said Hunter, embarrassed trying to look busy as he fetched the plates from the higher cabinet. “But um would you... like if we put sugar on the table? Like, would you say that you... like sugar?”

“Well yeah, I like sweet things,” she said as she gathered the forks and knives. She looked across the table at him, meticulously placing the plates an even distance from each other. Clover flew over and sat atop his head, resting peacefully like Hunter was the sweetest smelling flower she had ever come across. Hunter was so used to this action by now that it did not deter his focus and he subconsciously reached up and scratched her head with his finger and the palisman nuzzled against it affectionately. “You of all people should know that.”

#huntlow #winter toh #toh #willow park #hunter toh #the owl house

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heraldofcrow · 3 months

Note

Do you have any specific neurodivergent headcanons for bb characters by far?

Yep!! Sorry for the wait on this, I was adding to it little by little.

Without further ado—

Wait, I forgot, I need to clarify something. I don’t really believe neurodivergence refers strictly to autism and ADHD like many often try to say, so with that in mind, my answers might be more varied.

• Rom

Rom is my main headcanon for neurodivergence in Bloodborne because I suspect something is up with her basically being called the “mentally disabled spider” in Japanese, while also having been the only person in Bloodborne to have ascended. With that in mind, I see her as an autistic savant. Perceived as a fool due to stunted outward development, but a genius beyond what others could even understand.

• Laurence

This one is maybe odd, but I have Laurence as someone with bipolar disorder and autism. I don’t have some in-depth explanation for this one other than it fits with the character I wrote for him.

• Gehrman

Clinical depression, like from the time he was a really small kid. He was just different from the start and saw far more than he should have. He was never a very hopeful or upbeat person.

• Bloody Crow

I write Crow with severe psychosis that stems from schizophrenia. There are signs of him being autistic as well, but his schizophrenia is the main thing he struggles with. It is NOT what makes him a villain later on, but when his delusions get out of control and trigger his mania…well, you don’t want to pair it with hatred and anger. Sadly, Crow is overflowing with both.

• Micolash

Micolash was not brought up in an environment where he was able to develop empathy for others, so he was always a bit sociopathic. This wasn’t actually much of a problem for years though, because he tried and learned via others about socalization and interpersonal relations. Sociopaths are not inherently dangerous and neither was Micolash. He was a decent person for a long time.

However, tragedy always strikes, and darker emotional issues and beliefs were what allowed Micolash to eventually weaponize his own sociopathy, committing worse and worse atrocities without feeling the pain of his victims. I like to imagine he was fully aware of how he thought about the process. The problem wasn’t his lack of empathy, it was his choice to utilize it in an evil manner.

• Adeline

Adeline has both Borderline Personality Disorder and clinical depression. The traumatic experiences in her youth left her with a lot of unresolved emotional tension, poor kid.

• Maria

I have her as Crow’s biological sister, so as siblings, they both actually struggle a bit with the same mental challenges. Maria doesn’t really have schizophrenia like her brother, but she experiences severe bouts of depression that can lead to hallucinations and psychosis. She also deals with extreme memory loss at times and heavy PTSD.

• Ludwig

Ludwig has ADHD but people can’t really tell because he is hard on himself about keeping his focus intact. People like Maria absolutely notice his struggle and his periods of low self-esteem. He is too tough on himself :(

• Eileen

This one is actually my favourite headcanon, but Eileen has DID and has at least one other alter that she formed when faced with a horrifically traumatic event as a child. Her alter is a stiff, austere military officer-type, who is comfortable with emotionlessness and treating Eileen’s line of work as a task that must be completed.

Eileen’s alter is harmless and she is aware that she is different in this sense. It’s actually what draws her to Bloody Crow, who is already so terrified of his own mind that he finds comfort in knowing his mentor and mother-figure is not too different.

—

Some of these might change, but I am happy with most for now. I love psychology and studying it, so I think of it as a worthy challenge to try to write characters with unique mental states and accurately so. It can be a little scary because I know people really care about how several of these mental illnesses are depicted, but hopefully I am not screwing anything up too much. 😅

#thanks anon!#hope you like these #i know and have known people with almost all of these disorders so it feels kinda personal writing them tbh #asks #anonymous #bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #neurodivergent headcanons #rom the vacuous spider #gehrman the first hunter #laurence the first vicar #lady maria #bloody crow of cainhurst #saint adeline #micolash host of the nightmare #ludwig the holy blade #eileen the crow

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crystalsnow95z · 3 months

Note

hi love, i missed your fics❤️i had a request for you!

jimin & hoseok go live together after a concert and jimin can’t stop sneezing bc of his allergies. (add your little bless you commentary pls it’s so cute😔)

Thank you so much! I'm so happy you like them, I'm sorry I disappeared for a bit but I think I fixed my mental state enough to write again 😅 for the first time in a month and a half I'm actually decently happy with this one.

In case you missed it in the request..

Warning: sneeze content

"I love you! I'll see you tomorrow!" Namjoon calls ad the seven boys slowly disappeared underneath the stage.

Jimin tried to speak, but the itch in his nose he's been trying to ignore all concert was building up, so he opted to make a heart above his head instead, scrunching his nose to try to hold the sneeze in for a few seconds longer.

"Eh..heh'tichi!" Jimin sneezes as soon as the lift drops him out of sight of Army sniffling to stop his nose from dripping. "Heh'hehitchi!" The sneezes he was holding back hit him all at once, Hoseok wrapping an arm around him to keep him from falling while the lift drops to the floor. "He..heheigh!"

"Aiigo..Bless you..are you sure you aren't sick, Jiminie?" Hoseok asks Jimin, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't feel warm.."

"I'm fine, hyung. Staff already checked..che..sh..tich!" Jimin sneezes again, rubbing his finger across his nose. "I saw a doctor this morning before the concert. There's something about the air here that's setting off my allergies.."

"Did you take any medicine?" Hoseok asks, searching for a tissue for Jimin's runny nose, bringing him the box.

"Thanks hyung.. I don't understand..I'm usually not allergic to pollens.." Jimin blows his nose, sniffling again. "Yeah. I did before the show, but it really started wearing off during dope. I almost sneezed during my part..it was awful.. my nose itched so much.." he complains, his breath hitching for another sneeze that doesn't come. "Ugh.. I promised Army I would do a live tonight because I didn't join you guys for the live in Amsterdam."

"Army will understand if you aren't feeling well and skip it until you feel better." Hoseok reassures him, rubbing his dongsaeng's neck.

Jimin doesn't answer right away, trying to tickle the painful sneeze out of him, his breath hitching once more. "Heh..heiycvh!"

"Bless you.. Jiminie you don't need to force.." Hoseok starts, but Jimin interrupts him.

"No, no they'll only worry if they noticed I was sneezing a lot on stage then don't keep my promise. I want to at least expl..ah..heh'tichiu!" Jimin sneezes into the tissue, trying to clean up the mess that dripped from him.

"Are you sure you're okay Jiminie?" Namjoon asks, offering Jimin some water. "You've been sneezing quite a bit today.."

"Jiminies having issues with his allergies..I noticed there's a lot of plants I've never seen before by the hotel and stadium. Maybe one of those are setting them off." Hoseok explains for Jimin when he notices Jimin's face contorting as another sneeze builds.

"Heh'heh..ktchitxh!" Jimin stops fighting the sneeze when Hoseok finished talking, taking the water Namjoon offered. "Thanks Hyung.. all this sneezing is starting to hurt my throat..I'm surprised Taehyung-ah doesn't lose his voice when he sneezes.."

"Bless you.. make sure you wear a mask when you aren't singing to try to reduce the pollen that you breathe in.." Namjoon tells him with concern. "I'll ask staff to get you one with a filtering system."

"Thanks hyung.." Jimin takes a drink of water, trying to soothe his scratchy throat."Jungkookie seemed pretty sniffly today too. You should get..h..hey..iyfxh!' Another sneeze erupts from Jimin.

"I'll make sure he gets checked, too. Hopefully, it's just allergies for him too." Namjoon leaves to check on Jungkook.

"Go get changed so you can go home. I'll join you for a quick live session, okay, Jiminie. It'll be easier to do a live with another person with you." Hoseok offers.

"Thanks, hyungie. That'd be great."

Jimin followed Namjoon's advice, pulling up his mask as soon as they pulled up to the hotel, but he swore that whatever was setting off his allergies were still penetrating through the mask, causing an unbearable itch at the bridge of his nose.

Hoseok leads him inside, quickly using his key card to open the door to the hotel keeping his arm around Jimin's shoulder.

"He..he'hitch.." Jimin sneezes, grimacing when he feels the liquid drip down his nose and soak into the mask. "Eugh.." Jimin sniffles unhappily, not wanting to remove it until he was safely in the hotel room.

"Bless you Jimin-ah.. the medicine will kick in soon.. we can stay live until the sneezes settle down, but you should sleep after." Hoseok leads him to his room, fighting back a yawn.

"It's okay if you get tired, hyung. You can leave whenever you..he..geychi!"

"Bless you.." Hoseok says sympathetically.

"I can do it on my own or ask Jungkookie or Taehyungie to do it if you're tired.." Jimin digs out his key to his room.

"I'm not tired, Jiminie. I'm hungry..don't worry about me. Let Taehyungie and jaykay sleep. Those two were already falling asleep on the ride home." Hoseok reassures him, going into Jimin's bathroom to get a washcloth, wetting it and returning to Jimin, wiping his face clean. "Your nose is still so red, baby."

"Hyung that tick..eh..heh'tichi! Heyh..hitdhu!" Jimin sneezes, quickly backing up to avoid sneezing on Hoseok.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it worse.." Hoseok apologizes, giving Jimin the wet cloth.

"Heh'itchiiugh...it's okay.." Jimin sniffles, wiping his face.

"Bless you.." Hoseok goes to the humidifier at the side of Jimin's bed, hoping it would help. "I'm going to make food, do you want anything?"

"I'd like some ramen.. something a little spicy to help clear my nose." Jimin starts setting up for the live, adjusting his phone so both him and Hoseok could be in frame.

"Alright, coming right up. You can start without me while I cook."Hoseok starts boiling water for them.

Jimin goes to speak, but ends up sneezing instead. "Heh..heditxxchu!"

"Bless you Jimin-ah. I'll make you some tea too." Hoseok searches for teabags in the kitchen.

"I'm going to fix up my make up first.." Jimin goes into the bathroom, blowing his nose once more before trying to use some concealer to lessen the redness. "Ugh..my eyes are a bit puffy..and I look like Rudolph..!"

Hoseok giggles when he hears Jimin whining at his reflection. "You still look cute." He calls to him, reassuring the younger boy about his insecurities. "Army will still think you're adorable too."

You're just saying that..I'll just do what i can to cover it up, maybe if i dont sit too close to the camera no one will notice. Jimin finishes up his face just as Hoseok gets the noodles into the living room. "Foods done?"

"Yeah, but it's still super hot. I burnt my mouth trying it.." Hoseok warns, sipping some water to try to soothe his tongue.

"I'll be sure to..to..hyh..heh'tichi!" Jimin sneezes, sighing irritably. "That one hurt..:

"Bless you.. Are you okay?" Hoseok asks, concern etched on his face.

"Yeah.. I'm okay.. are you ready for the live?" Jimin checks the angle once more before sitting down next to Hoseok.

"Ready when you are." Hoseok confirms, blowing on his noodles to try to get a not so painful bite.

Jimin hits play, picking up his noodles, surprised that within seconds there were already people in the chat. "Hello army.."

"Hi Army." Hoseok greets the small handful of people who already entered, then slurps his noodles. "Aiish, I shouldn't be eating noodles before the show tomorrow, my face is going to be so puffy.."

"You look cute with chub..ch.." Jimin puts up a finger thinking he had to sneeze, but nothing comes. "Chubby looking cheeks." He finishes his sentence, taking a bite of noodles.

The two eat chatting with each each other while they wait for more army to join, watching the comment section.

LovePJM13: hi Jimin oppa, I saw the show tonight and it was amazing, but in one of the photos I took it looks like you were crying. Are you okay?

"Ah, no. No i wasn't crying at all tonight. I was really..ah..Heh'hehitchi!" Jimin sneezes before he could put the noodles down to cover his face, choking on the noodles.

"Bless you baby..Are you okay? Drink some of your tea.. " Hoseok quickly takes the bowl from him and moves the camera so Jimin is out of frame, rubbing his back to try to ease his cough.

Jimin takes a drink of the tea, trying to wash down the noodles. "Yeah,yeah, I'm okay now..but that was awful.."

"Here.. you got broth on your face." J-hope uses his sleeve to wipe Jimin's chin. "Ah, the chat is worried.."

Jimin looks over, noticing the comment section flooding with concern. "Don't worry. I'm fine. It didn't really hurt it scared me more than anything.."

Tannie13: Do you have a cold?

Jungshookie9: Are you sick? I saw you sneezing during spring day..

Hoseok readjusted the camera so they could sit on the floor, looking through the comments. "Jiminie isn't sick. It's just allergies. Him and Jungkookie are both having issues, but it's worse for Jiminie."

"We'll only be here for another two days. I'll be fine. It's more annoying than anything." Jimin tries to reassure army, but his body has other plans. "Heh'itcgih! Heh..itcvxhyu!" Jimin covers his face with his arms, sniffling miserably.

"Bless you Jiminie.. they really aren't going away.." Hoseok frowns, rubbing Jimin's back. "You poor thing.."

"I'm doing better than earlier.. my eyes were more puffy when I was in the bathroom.." Jimin looks at himself through the camera lens. I wish it was my sneezes improving though..

"Are you guys healthy army? I know a lot of people get sick when the seasons change. Jinnie-hyung was just getting over a cold when we left Korea for our tour.." Jimin asks, but when he tries to watch the comments, his eyes start to water, another round of sneezes building covering his face.

"Hey'Itfgih! Heh'hehitchi! Ah..ah..hitcxhi!" Jimin sneezes, quickly standing up. "I'm sorry.. I got to blow my nose.." his voice comes out congested and soft, leaving Hoseok in charge of the chat.

"Bless you.. take your time Jimin-ah, I'll keep army company." Hoseok tries to calm Jimin's concerns about having to get up so suddenly.

"Army if you saw the show tonight what was your favorite part and if you didn't go what did you do today?" Hoseok asks, watching Jimin leave with concern. "Jiminie Army says bless you!" He calls to Jimin when he finds that he can't catch any of the comments except for the bless yous and I love you Jimin that flooded the chat. "We love you Jiminie!"

Jimin was glad for Hoseok's shouting, helping to conceal the sound of him blowing his nose, the clear gooey liquid soaking through the toliet paper. Maybe I should ask Hobi-hyung to take over the live.. I'm such a mess..Army want to see me when I'm handsome and smiling..

Jimin takes out his phone to text Hoseok, hoping he'd check it, but after retouching up his make up and still not getting a response he returned to the livingroom, bowing to the stream. "Sorry everyone.. I know this isn't what you had in mind when I said I'd go live in the next city.."

"Jimin-ah, you don't need to apologize. No one's upset that you aren't feeling your best.. we're just worried about you." Hoseok pulls him into a hug.

"Hobi-hyung.. I'm so ugly and gross right now.. I think we should turn off the live and you can do one on your own for army in my place." Jimin whispers so only Hoseok hears, only earning him a tighter hug.

"Don't say stuff like that Jimin-ah, you're being too hard on yourself. You look fine.. it's just a little redness to your face, it's no big deal. Okay?" Hoseok whispers back to him, gently ruffling Jimin's hair and letting him go, turning to talk to the camera. "Army! Isn't Jimin so handsome today? I don't think a stuffy nose is enough to ruin it."

Jimin watches the comment section flood his jaw clenched with nerves. They're just going to say Hyung always thinks I'm cute or lie just to make me feel better..

DaddyJoon9:You have the cutest little sneezes I just wish they didn't make you miserable 😔

HEYStobit77:You think the sniffles are enough to ruin your pretty face? You're crazy oppa. You're still handsome!

Ot7borababy:You're still my beautiful angel. Sick or not. Just feel better soon.

Tannie13: we don't care about your looks. You're very handsome but I'm here for your sweetness, Mochi. Please smile.

Jimin tried to catch every comment that rushes by, his eyes filling with tears when he sees all the supportive comments flooding into his heart, sniffling once more.

"Jimin-ah are you crying?" Hoseok asks in concern when Jimin lays his head in his palms, letting out a shaky breath. Hoseok leans forward to read the comment section, relaxing when he sees nothing but positivity, a mix of compliments and concern. "Jimin-ah tell Army why you're crying.."

"I-i'm just happy.. Thank you Army.. I love you guys so m-much.." Jimin lifts his head to speak to them, smiling through his tears.

Hoseok uses his thumbs to dry Jimin's eyes. "Hey, hey Jimin-ah? Guess what?"

"Huh?" Jimin sniffles, looking at Hoseok's bright smile.

"You haven't sneezed since you sat back down. They're starting to stop." Hoseok announces relieved for his stressed out dongsaeng.

"Hyung..don't jinx it.." Jimin smiles, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Let's finish our noodles and get to bed.. I think I've had enough excitement for one day.."

#bts sickfic #bts snz #bts hobi #bts Jimin #jimin snz #bts #bts fanfic #bts hoseok #bts jm #bts jhope #bts namjoon #bts sickie #bts boys #bts taehyung #bts jungkook #bts jimin

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meowmeow-motherfucker · 6 months

Text

Covenant- Chapter 2

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC Claire

Warnings: Odin is a bad parent, arranged marriage, sexist societal norms, Loki being a dick

Read it on A03 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51197938/chapters/129363727#workskin

Covenant Chapter 2

New York

The following day, after a night of drinking, eating way too much greasy pizza, and binging action flicks, Claire went back to talk to Thor. The reality of her fate hadn’t quite settled in yet and Claire wanted to get some answers before she had time to overthink.

Claire had half expected Clint to drop from the vents again, but her elevator ride went undisturbed. It took her longer to find Thor, because people kept stopping her to congratulate her or talk to her. She hadn’t considered how quickly the news would have spread, and wished the floor would swallow her whole.

While the fifth person was talking her ear off about how lucky she was, Claire finally spotted Thor and Jane.

“Nice talking to you, gotta go!” she bolted toward the couple, leaving the woman in the dust. Thor turned toward her thundering footsteps and grinned, waving excitedly.

“Claire! How do you fare?” Thor asked as she drew near.

“Um…surviving,” Claire mumbled. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping to pick your brain.”

“Of course! Anything for my new sister!” Thor said cheerily, wrapping her in a tight hug that made her spine pop like a sheet of bubble wrap. “Are you preparing for your journey?”

“Yep. Totally,” Claire lied, wincing as he released her. “Actually no, I’ve been too focused on everything that’s about to happen to even think about packing. I was hoping you could tell me about Loki.”

“Ah,” Thor said gently. He turned to Jane and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Excuse us, my love, I shall be back soon.”

“Okay. Bye Claire.” Jane offered her a small wave, which Claire returned before she and Thor left the room.

“What would you like to know?” Thor asked as they walked toward the elevator.

“What the hell am I walking into?” Claire asked. “Loki wasn’t the most sane person when he came here, and he’s been in prison for the past five years, right? So safe to assume, he’s a basket case.”

“The years have not been kind to Loki, it is true,” Thor mused. “When I saw him last…he was not well. But I don’t wish for you to despair- he will not harm you.”

“I know- the contract is very clear,” Claire shook her head. “I can handle myself; that’s not- look, I know about what he was like when he was here, and clearly his mental state hasn’t improved since then. And I can’t exactly judge, but I need to know. What was he like before?” Claire asked. “I can work with shitty mental health, but didn’t you say he was at least a decent person when you guys were younger?”

“Oh yes,” Thor grinned. “Loki has always been mischievous, but underneath he was studious and honorable. He will treat you as you deserve.”

“So you think we’ll get along?”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Thor said quickly. “You both are strong-willed, but in time I think- I know you will come to understand one another and who knows? Perhaps you will grow to love one another.”

“Yeah, that’s what every girl dreams of; maybe falling in love with her husband,” Claire snorted. “God, what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking to spare Jane and I from being forced to live a lifetime apart,” Thor replied. “You sacrificed your future for ours. For that I thank you. It was most admirable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Claire brushed him off, the sentimentality making her feel nauseous. “I expect a fantastic wedding present.”

“Name it, and you shall have it.” Thor said with all seriousness. Claire didn’t really want anything, and she’d been joking about the gift.

“A talking llama.”

“A what?”

“A talking llama!” Claire insisted.

“I have never heard of such a thing.” Claire slapped Thor’s bicep as she laughed.

“I have faith in you, big guy,” she cackled. “Now, what else can you tell me about him? What was he like when you were kids?” Thor smiled.

“Have I ever told you about the time Loki stabbed me?” he asked excitedly.

~~~~

The two weeks waiting for Njord to return passed both too quickly, and too slowly. During the day, Claire spent her time going through her things and deciding what would go with her. Her furniture was sold, books were sorted, clothes were folded. She put in information requests for any and all intelligence S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed about the god of mischief and to her surprise, received it in less than 24 hours. Records was notoriously slow, but she supposed the fact she was about to marry the guy meant she had a right to file requests being fulfilled expediently.

Her nights were spent doubting every decision that led her here.

With one week burned, Claire shifted into research mode. The intelligence folder was lighter than she was hoping for, so she turned to the greatest possible resource: the internet. She spent days scouring every corner of the web, padding her intelligence folder as well as she could.

Phil came by several times to help her pack. Since she was traveling via bifrost, Thor had advised against taking too much at once. Phil helped her decide which books to put into short-term storage. The clothes and books she decided not to keep were hauled away by junior S.H.I.E.L.D agents to be donated. Phil made arrangements for whatever food she didn’t eat to be donated to a local food pantry.

With two days until her departure, Phil was at her apartment once again to go through the bags she’d packed and make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Claire was becoming slightly unhinged as her time on Earth dwindled. She’d made a list of every food she needed to eat ‘one last time’, and decided to spend every penny she had on food, booze, and books.

“Are you sober enough to have a serious conversation?” Phil asked.

“Sure,” Claire said, taking another sip of her whiskey. She really wasn’t, but she didn’t care. “Shoot.”

“What are you planning to do about your special project?” Claire’s heart twisted. Her mother’s murder, her ‘special project’ as she and Phil called it, had never been solved. Orphaned at sixteen, Claire had been trying to solve the mystery ever since. Fourteen years later, Claire had identified a number of Hydra agents who’d been present, but she still didn’t know why her mother had been targeted. Why she had been targeted.

Phil was the only family she had left. He’d been in her life since she was a child, and had taken her in after her mother’s death. He’d been the one to nudge her in the direction of S.H.I.E.L.D, sponsor her late entry into the academy. He’d also notified her of an opening on Captain Rogers’ S.T.R.I.K.E team, which would have been an excellent addition to her resume.

It also would have given her an opening to question Brock Rumlow, but Rogers picked Rollins instead. She was still pissed about it. For all his talk about equality, the man still seemed to favor men over women.

But in the massive disruption that occurred at the DC headquarters in 2014, her suspicions about Rumlow had been confirmed. Both he and Rollins were confirmed to be Hydra, as had many other agents she’d befriended over the years. Friend had turned against friend, not just in DC, but at every headquarters S.H.I.E.L.D operated out of. A number of the agents on her list were confirmed Hydra agents, but it was difficult to extract information out of a corpse.

“I don’t know,” Claire said softly. “There’s not much I’ll be able to do off-world.” The thought made her burn with rage. Her mom deserved justice. Putting the investigation aside, for any reason, made her beside herself with guilt. Working for S.H.I.E.L.D was different- her work as an investigator of 0-8-4’s allowed her to travel far and wide, and poke her nose where it didn’t belong, something she used to further the investigation into her mom’s case when she could.

Once she moved to Asgard...everything else would come to a standstill.

“Leave me a list,” Phil said. “You still you have the DNA from the crime scene, right?”

“Of course.”

“If anyone on your list gets injured, I’ll get something to compare to what you’ve got.”

“How are you going to get anything out of Medical?”

“If you must know, one of the staff owes me a favor,” Phil replied. “It’s not the end, Claire.” He knew how deeply this affected Claire. The death of her mother hung over her like a dark cloud, and as the years passed with one dead end leading to another, her guilt grew.

“Feels like it.” Claire drained her glass and set it aside heavily . Silence settled in the apartment as Claire

“ I got you something,” Phil produced a small wrapped package, holding it out to her. “Here.” Claire leaned over to grab the package, eagerly tearing into the paper to reveal a thick book on Norse mythology.

“Thanks, Uncle Phil,” Claire laughed, thumbing through the selection of tales. “I’m sure this will be very helpful.”

“Of course. I’d hate for you to go to Asgard without knowing anything.”

“ You’ll go with me, right?” Claire focused on the cover of the book, fingers trailing over the intricate knot work illustration. She glanced up, her eyes full of sudden doubt.

“ Of course I will. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you show up in style,” Phil assured her. “But first, you need to sober up.”

~~~~

Asgard

For the first time in nearly five years, Loki woke in his bed in his chambers. It was still early in the morn, before the palace residents came alive to assume their duties. Servants were no doubt already awake and bustling about, preparing the morning meal and helping prepare their betters for the day.

As if on cue, Loki heard the main door to his chambers open. Within a few moments, Loki’s personal servant Astrid entered his sleeping quarters. He watched as she set about opening the curtains and putting away his laundered clothing. She disappeared into the large bathing room off his sleeping area, and he heard her start running a bath for him.

It was all so familiar and comforting. Like he’d never left. Loki’s eyes began to sting, and he was grateful to still be under the blankets. He absolutely was not crying. To cry over something so small would be foolish, indeed. He was not a child.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Astrid called to him gently. “I’ve started your bath.”

“Good morning Astrid,” Loki replied softly. “It is nice to be back.”

“It is nice to have you back, sire. Now come along, today is a big day for you.” Loki stomach sank like a stone.

His future wife arrived today.

Not for the first time since his release from prison, Loki wondered if he’d been a fool to agree to this.

“Come, come!” Astrid chirped, pulling the blankets down from his face. “Yes, yes, I know, but you cannot meet your future bride looking like a ragamuffin.” she chastised him when he groaned. She ushered him into the bath quickly, making quick work of wetting his hair.

“Gods, Astrid, must you remind me?” he sputtered as she scrubbed his scalp with determination.

“Oh, hush. One should think this is a happy day!” Astrid replied as she worked. “Perhaps it is simply because I have cared for you since you were a boy. To think, you will be married soon, with little ones of your own!”

“Ugh.” Loki groaned, sinking down into the water to rinse his hair.

“My goodness,” Astrid said as she began to scrub his skin. “If I did not know better, I would say His Majesty is not looking forward to meeting his intended.”

“Of course I’m not,” Loki grumbled, arms crossing over his chest as he scowled at the sudsy water. “I may be out of prison but I’m not free, Astrid, not really.” Astrid made a noise of sympathy as she scrubbed his shoulders.

“Sometimes what we want blinds us to what we need,” the older woman said wisely. “This could be a blessing in disguise.”

“It feels like a death sentence,” Loki spluttered as Astrid dumped water on him. “Well it does!” The woman clicked her tongue at him in disapproval.

“I’m sure she is perfectly lovely. No doubt this will be a big change for her as well,” Astrid said as she climbed out of the stone tub. “I shall leave you to collect your thoughts. Do not dawdle, Your Majesty.” she gave him a knowing look before leaving him alone in the bath. Loki sank into the water up to his nose, blowing bubbles in the cooling water as he exhaled. Astrid was right. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

Loki dried his body with magic as he walked out of the tub, making his way to the changing area where Astrid waited to help him dress. He didn’t speak as she wrangled him into his leathers with practiced precision and combed his hair.

“There. You look very handsome,” Astrid said with satisfaction as she straightened one of the panels on his chest. Loki noticed her eyes misting, but he supposed the room did need dusting. “Do try to be charming, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Loki rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Astrid.” She curtsied as well as her aging knees allowed and he left without a backward glance.

~~~~

“You’re pacing.” Frigga said from her seat. Of course she was calm- her life was not changing for the worse today. Throughout breakfast and his morning’s preparations, Loki had felt increasingly ill at ease as the time passed. Based on the slant of the sun’s morning rays, he had barely twenty minutes of freedom left. The bifrost had already announced the arrival of the delegation from Midgard and his future wife. Loki pulled on his collar, convinced he could feel it tightening around his windpipe.

“I am tense.”

“Anyone could see that, my darling. Relax,” Frigga coached him, setting her needlework on her lap to look at him consolingly. “What troubles you?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Loki scoffed. Frigga’s gaze turned scolding before she resumed her needlework.

“I ask because I care.” she murmured, lancing Loki with guilt. He sighed, moving to sit beside her and letting his head fall back against the wall in exasperation.

“I am going out of my mind with worry,” he confessed. “I know nothing about her! What if-”

“Darling, you will exhaust yourself with that line of thinking,” Frigga said gently. “What is it exactly that worries you so?”

“What if she despises me like everyone else?” Loki hated how small he sounded, like a child whining to his mother. It was a valid fear, one he hid deep inside himself.

“Nonsense. She will love you.” Frigga abandoned her needlework to brush an errant hair from his face, the love in her gaze searing him as always.

“You know this for a fact?”

“A mother always knows.” Frigga said simply, her sly smile making Loki think she knew more than she let on.

“What did you see?” he asked. He did not fully understand his mother's gift, but he knew enough to trust it. “Mother, please tell me something!”

“You know I cannot!” Frigga argued. “To do so would risk everything, and I’ll not risk your future happiness.”

“Happiness?” Loki couldn’t help but scoff. “That could mean anything.”

“Precisely. Anything is possible, ” Frigga smiled warmly at him. “Now, are you prepared to meet your betrothed?”

As ready as he was to see Thanos again.

“How do I look?” Loki asked nervously.

“Very handsome,” Frigga tugged at a panel on his chest, adjusting it ever so slightly. “Remember to be courteous. This is a big adjustment for both of you, but more so for her. She will likely be overwhelmed. She has left behind everything- for you.”

“I did not ask- yes, mother,” Loki grimaced as Frigga continued to fuss over him. “I will remember.”

~~~~

Claire felt ill, and she blamed it entirely on that awful mode of transportation. The bifrost was breathtaking in beauty, but traveling inside it was like being sucked into a powerful vacuum. Everyone in the small party from Earth was disoriented and looking a little green around the gills as they reoriented themselves. Njord, of course, looked perfectly at ease, and Claire hated him a bit more for it. The smug man had been all too eager to whisk away from her home, watching on impatiently as she’d said goodbyes to the few people who’d come to see her off. Phil had traveled with her, of course.

“Welcome to Asgard.” A rich, velvety voice boomed from beside them, and Claire looked up to see a tall, broad shouldered man in golden armor. He pulled a massive broadsword from its resting place in the center of the floor, resting his hands atop it as he regarded them coolly. If Claire’s book was right, she was looking at Heimdall, the ever-watchful guardian of Asgard.

“Lady Claire, this is Heimdall. He is the keeper of bifrost and a faithful guardian of Asgard,” Njord explained. “Heimdall, this is Lady Claire. His Majesty Prince Loki’s intended.”

“My lady,” Heimdall gave her a respectful bow. “I hope you feel welcome in your new home.”

“Thank you. Nice to meet you.” Claire nodded respectfully as Njord complained that they should hurry.

“And you, young mortal.”

As Njord led Claire and Phil from the golden dome that housed the bifrost, they were awestruck by the sight in front of them.

The rainbow bridge stretched on ahead of them- for miles it seemed- with endless ocean on either side. Pristine beaches were visible in the distance, beyond were fields of such rich green Claire was reminded of Ireland. Tiny specks of farmland were visible past the open fields, crosshatching lines of crops jutting up toward the sky.

But beyond that-

“Holy shit.” Claire muttered what they were all thinking.

The golden (literally gold, if Njord wasn’t kidding) palace stood tall and gleaming above everything around it. It was behemoth, a grand sprawling beast that shone like a diamond in the early morning sun.

“That will be your new home, Lady Claire.” Njord said proudly as she gawked at it open-mouthed. His judgmental gaze dropped to her gaping jaw and Claire shut her mouth lest he comment on her teeth. “Is it not most impressive?”

“It’s something, alright,” Claire replied. “It’s very different from what I’m used to.”

“Yes, well,” Njord sniffed. “Some things can’t be helped,” He shrugged when Claire glared at him. “Come along.” He urged the two of them along the bifrost, leaving the golden dome and Heimdall behind. They walked in awed silence, Claire and Phil occasionally pointed objects of interest.

The sun had already risen yet the moon still hung in the sky, bright and full behind the mountains in the distance.

They spotted buildings built into the mountainside shaped like temples, libraries and universities. It seemed like there was something to see everywhere they looked.

They passed through a golden gatehouse close to shore, and two guards joined their small group to escort them through the city to the palace. Beyond the gatehouse, they passed through the fields and farmland they had seen from the bifrost dome. Eventually, the rural landscape began to bleed into small town-esque land, populated with homesteads here and there, but the landscape changed again shortly after, the houses growing more in number and closer together as they approached the city.

“The city surrounding the palace is divided into sections. There is some farmland near the shore, which we’ve just passed through. The areas surrounding the palace are more densely populated.” Njord said in a bored tone as they passed into the city itself.

Here, the streets bustled with activity. Overlapping shouts from merchants interspersed with guards calling to each other as they patrolled, the occasional bleat from livestock, all over a low hum of people chattering. Though it was early morning, people milled about shopping, working, shouting and laughing as they went about their day. The buildings on this street were clustered together like gossiping women, the streets paved with cobble stones. It was quaint and charming, and Claire wanted to stop and inspect the colorful stalls but Njord urged them on.

Claire would have liked to slip by unnoticed, but the guards and probably the obvious non-Asgardian clothes that Phil and Claire wore made them stick out. It didn’t help that the crowd parted as they walked; people stopping what they were doing to gawk at them. One little girl watched Claire with wide eyes, her round face lighting up with glee when Claire waved at her. Further ahead, one child ran into the street, a dark haired woman pulling him back into the crowd by his little arm.

“Do not engage with them,” Njord instructed from behind Claire. “They are beneath you now.”

“They are not-”

“Yes, they are,” Njord said sharply. “You are to be a princess. The first princess of Asgard in a millennia. They will be fascinated; that is natural. But you cannot indulge them.”

“I hardly think waving-”

“That is my point, Lady Claire, you do not think. You are not here to think.”

Njord was two syllables away from getting stabbed. Claire remained silent as they continued walking, her curiosity getting the better of her as the streets began to change. The streets leading toward the palace remained well-kept and attractive, but others leading deeper into the city grew dark with shadow despite the sun fully beating down. Claire paused at the mouth of one of the streets, looking down the long lane with curiosity. She could see dark shapes sitting in doorways, debris floating along the grimy cobblestones.

“What’s down there?”

“Those are the slums, Lady Claire,” Njord’s lip curled with disgust as he spared the street a cursory glance. “You’ll do well to stay away from that area.”

“Yes, it would be terrible if I got some poor on my fancy new clothes.” Claire snapped. Njord narrowed his eyes, reaching out to pull her along. Claire pulled away from his grasp, following behind stubbornly when he began walking toward the palace again.

“ Speaking of clothing,” Njord said in a clipped tone. “Once we reach the palace, you will have an opportunity to change out of...whatever this is.” he gestured toward her.

“No thank you,” Claire replied. “I will change when I want to, not when you tell me to.”

“Do you not wish to make a good impression upon your new family?” Njord asked. “Although I suppose it is better they see you as you are, so that your transformation will be all the more impressive.”

“I think it would be better if you stopped talking,” Claire growled. “You’ve made it clear you don’t like me, and I don’t like you either, so let’s just get where I need to be and then we don’t have to speak to each other again.” One of the guards escorting them coughed, his cheeks growing red beneath his helmet. Njord glared at the man with fire in his eyes, and the guard sucked in his cheeks as his companion cleared his throat.

“That is a most excellent idea, Lady Claire,” Njord huffed, ignoring the guards trying to contain their laughter. “It is not much further. Come along.”

The golden palace loomed larger than ever now. The noise of the marketplace had begun to fade. In front of them, the cobblestones stopped, the path turning smooth as the streets of the city continued on to the left and right. Njord continued onto the smooth path, leading them to another gate. As they approached, the gate opened, letting them see the ornate gilded doors beyond. Njord led their small party through the gate, the guards flanking the gate bowing respectfully as they passed.

The gilded doors opened before they reached it, revealing another pair of guards and an older woman awaiting them.

“Welcome to Valaskjalf,” the woman greeted them with a curtsy. “Please, allow us to take your things.” two men stepped forward to take Claire’s and Phil’s luggage, whisking it away without a backwards glance.

“Lady Claire, Son of Coul, this is the head housekeeper of Valaskjalf. She oversees everything within these halls.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Claire.” the woman curtsied again.

“Nice to meet you.” Claire replied, smiling awkwardly.

“Your rooms are already prepared for your arrival, and I shall be glad to direct you there myself,” the woman said. “Of course you will each have a staff assigned to you, but should either of you require anything, please do not hesitate to send for me.”

“Oh, thank you- wait, staff?” Claire asked in confusion.

“Yes, of course,” Njord replied with a bitter laugh. “You must forgive Lady Claire, she is not used to such finery. But of course, she is expected in the throne room and cannot see her chambers yet.”

“Surely the lady wishes to change?” the woman looked at Claire questioningly.

“The lady has already decreed she did not wish to,” Njord replied. “Isn’t that correct, Lady Claire?” he preened in satisfaction. Claire wanted to punch his teeth in.

“Yep.” Claire said through gritted teeth, smiling reassuringly at the housekeeper.

“As you wish, Lady Claire. I will be happy to direct you to your chambers when you are ready.”

“Thank you,” Claire replied, shooting a dark look at Njord. “Shall we?”

“But of course,” Njord nodded. “This way please.” He led them deeper into the palace, down long winding halls with cavernous painted ceilings and lit torches. Claire felt almost as though she’d stepped back in time. The city outside looked like the animation of Beauty and the Beast come to life, and the palace ceilings made her think of the Sistine Chapel.

There were no windows in these halls, the only light coming from the flickering torches. Claire could see daylight up ahead, so she kept walking and tried not to think about Game of Thrones. The dark hallway finally ended, spitting them out in an open-air passageway lined with columns. Beyond the columns Claire could see a sprawling garden, filled with tall flowers swaying in the delicious breeze. She could hear the sound of moving water from somewhere in the garden, and Claire inexplicably felt at peace. Her nerves dissipated as she followed after Njord, his figure turning a sharp corner before two massive golden doors came into view. Torches and guards flanked the doors, their armor glinting in the flickering light from the torches. Identical hallways branched to either side and Claire wondered where she would end up if she followed them. As the trio approached the guards opened the golden doors to allow them entry, and Claire stepped into the fanciest room she’d ever seen in her life.

Everything was gold. The marble pillars gleamed in the natural light coming from the high windows lining the walls. At the far end of the room, an old man with frizzled white hair sat upon a throne, with a middle-aged looking woman in a blue dress standing to the side, waiting for them.

“Soooo, how are you feeling?” Phil asked as the doors to the throne room closed behind them. Claire had been tense before they arrived in Asgard, but the altercation with Njord was close to putting her over the edge.

“Honestly?” Claire asked as Njord began his over-the-top introduction. “Decidedly unhappy. With Njord, with the whole situation in general. Really; arranged marriage? That’s the best way to form an alliance nowadays?” she scoffed.

“You agreed to it.” Phil deadpanned as Njord was dismissed. Claire locked eyes with the emissary, glaring at him as he shuffled back toward them. He passed them on his way out and Claire turned back to Phil.

“I’m claiming temporary insanity on that one,” she said bitterly. “You know how I feel about marriage in general, but arranged marriage?! It’s like a social experiment gone wrong.” Let’s watch as we force two strangers to cohabitate and fuck and hope they don’t kill each other!

“I’m not thrilled either, if it’s of any consolation.” A voice beside her said. Claire whipped around to see a dark haired man standing beside her dressed in leather armor accented with splashes of dark green and gold. His inky black hair fell to his shoulders and his emerald eyes glittered; a striking contrast to his pale skin. Despite having never met him, Claire recognized the dark prince of Asgard immediately. Damn, he’s tall.

“Silence!” Odin said before Claire could speak to the newcomer. “Lady Claire, this is my son Loki,” the man beside her snorted derisively. Odin spared him a withering stare before looking back at Claire, forcing her to stop staring at Loki. “In four weeks’ time, he will be your husband and you will become a member of the royal family. When the time comes, you will be granted a golden apple from Idunn’s orchard to ensure the endurance of our treaty with Midgard.”

“Right,” Claire said quietly. “What about visits? I have friends, family. I can’t just leave them behind.”

“You may visit Midgard once per year.” Odin permitted. Claire scoffed in disbelief.

“Once a year?!” she balked. “That’s not enough time! We don’t live forever!”

“Enough!” Odin said loudly, holding up a hand to stop her. “My decision is final.”

“Fantastic,” she quipped sarcastically. She turned her gaze to Loki as Odin started speaking again. “So…how are you feeling about all of this?” she asked. Loki’s green eyes settled on her and Claire knew he was sizing her up just like she was doing to him.

She had not yet changed out of her Midgardian clothing, dressed in smart black pants, a purple under shirt and a sleek leather jacket. She wore dark spectacles pushed up into her dark hair which she wore in a loose braid. This was the woman Midgard offered to him? She did not look like a woman of standing.

“Abysmal. Odin would have me tamed, like a beast condemned to a life in chains. My surroundings may have changed but nonetheless in shackles I remain.”

“Well you did try to take over my planet.” Claire snapped.

“Do you truly wish to discuss this now?” Loki asked heatedly. “I had my reasons, mortal, not that you would understand them.”

“Try me.” Claire returned hotly, glaring up at him. A sparkle on her face caught his attention, and Loki looked closer to see she wore a purple hoop through one of her nostrils.

How odd.

“If you’re quite finished,” Odin interrupted their spat by banging Gungnir on the golden floor. The woman to his side gave Claire a small, tight-lipped smile of what she hoped was encouragement. “There is much to be done. Son of Coul, you may retire to the chambers we have provided you,” he said as a servant appeared beside Phil to lead him to his room. “Lady Claire will accompany the queen to begin preparations-”

“Is that your mother?” Claire asked Loki quietly as Odin droned on. She could practically feel his annoyance before he answered her.

“Queen Frigga.” Loki answered shortly.

“And you’re close?” Claire asked, looking up at Loki. “I hear things.” She explained when he raised a brow at her. She wore diamond studs in her ears as well. Was this typical of Midgard?

“From that oaf Thor, I’m sure. He knows me so well.” Loki said sarcastically.

“About as well as one brother can know another, I suppose. We’re friends.” Claire shrugged. She decided to ignore the feral grimace Loki made at the mention of his brother. “So what made you say yes?” she asked.

“Pleasure to meet you too, darling.” Loki laughed sardonically.

“Hey, it’s nothing personal. I think marriage is dumb and people who willingly enter it are even dumber, but I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time, I guess.”

“I wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter,” Loki said derisively. “Marriage or incarceration. I’m simply trading one cell for another.”

“Felt that.” Claire grimaced.

“What?” Loki asked, looking down at the mortal with confusion.

“Nothing,” Claire said instead of explaining. “You haven’t answered my question.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“I agree marriage is foolish and I’ve never spared it much thought, but as part of the royal family I’ve always been expected to wed. Yet despite my title and status as one of the most eligible bachelors in Asgard, no family will have me.”

“I wonder why.” Claire answered dryly, shrugging when Loki glared at her sharply. “I’m just saying, the whole killing-80-people-in-two-days thing would put off most people.”

“But not you,” Loki murmured thoughtfully. “How odd. Are there not many options for suitors on Midgard these days?” He found it rather difficult to believe an attractive woman such as her had failed to secure a match until now. She was annoying, but from what he’d seen of her walk through the city she seemed charming enough. Surely some weak Midgardian man would appreciate that. Would that he had; if only to spare Loki having to deal with her for the rest of his long life.

“I’m not most people,” Claire replied. “And that’s rude. I happen to have high standards,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Loki spied silver rings on her fingers, as well as…claws? “And most people are weirded out by my fascination with serial killers.”

“What?” Loki scoffed, tearing his gaze from the black polish on her claws. “I’m not-”

“80 people in two days,” Claire repeated. “Try again, sugar plum.”

“Don’t call me that,” Loki hissed. “Besides, it’s not as if I killed them all personally. They were simply-”

“Collateral damage?” Claire guessed. “You made a pretty big mess for someone who wanted to lose.” She raised a slim brow at him in challenge, rankling Loki further.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” he said tersely.

“You think I haven’t done any digging? I was there, but I also know several of the Avengers personally. I wasn’t about to show up to the party without doing my homework; I’m not an idiot.”

“Clearly you are since you’ve agreed to marry me,” Loki hissed. “I’ve had enough of this inane conversation. You have duties to attend to, as do I.”

“Look, aside from completely upheaving my life, I’m still seventy percent optimistic that we’ll figure this shit out.”

“Figure what out?” Loki asked impatiently.

“I know, I know, I’m just a measly little human, but we actually have a lot in common. Daddy issues, mommy issues…” Claire trailed off when Loki growled beside her. She could practically feel the anger radiating off him, but continued to push him anyway. She was curious how far she could push his buttons before he stopped with the sexy growling and attacked her. “Plus you’re really hot.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki balked, looking back at her to see her eyeing him up and down hungrily. “Excuse me.”

“What?” Claire gave an unrepentant grin. “I said what I said.”

“Is that why you agreed to this?” Loki asked. “Because you find me desirable?”

“It didn’t hurt,” Claire smirked. “Look, I like Thor. He’s nice. But I have zero interest in fucking nice.”

“But you do have an interest in fucking me?” Loki asked conspiratorially as Frigga approached to collect Claire.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Claire winked at him, her wicked mouth forming a devilish smile. The white of her teeth against the burnt umber of her lip paint made her appear almost predatory. “Later.”

Loki was left staring after her in awe. She was quite surprising, this mortal. She did not flinch from him, but instead challenged him head on. And she desired him. Openly.

Perhaps this venture would not be a total loss after all.

He turned to leave the throne room, only to be confronted by the steely glare of Phil. He returned the glare coolly.

“Pleasure to see you again, Son of Coul.” He said calmly.

“Save it,” Phil snapped. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how angry I am about Claire having to marry you. But seeing as I can’t do a damn thing about it…” Phil clenched his jaw angrily. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Loki chuckled lightly. “Don’t fret, Son of Coul, I have no intention of laying a hand on your precious niece. Marry her I must, but Odin has made quite clear the consequence should anything happen to her.”

“Oh, I can sleep peacefully now,” Phil replied sarcastically. “But just to be clear; she is protected.”

“I am capable of reading, Son of Coul. The treaty is quite explicit that her well-being is tantamount to my freedom and my life. I would be a fool to risk that,” Loki grinned as a guard approached to escort Phil to his chambers. “I do hope you find your chambers comfortable.” he added as Phil was led away to his guest rooms.

~~~~

“I am so pleased to meet you, Lady Claire,” Queen Frigga said excitedly as she led Claire out of the throne room. “It will be grand to have another lady in our family.”

“I’m sure dealing with three boys is a challenge,” Claire said diplomatically. “I’ve seen Thor eat, I can’t imagine what he was like during his growth spurts.”

“Oh Norns, the stories I could tell,” Frigga laughed politely. “But there is plenty of time for that! For now, let us show you to your chambers and you may change for supper.” the housekeeper Claire met earlier appeared at Frigga’s side, seemingly out of thin air.

“What should I change into? I didn’t really know what to pack.”

“Not to worry, dear. I’ve had several dresses made in anticipation of your arrival,” Frigga smiled warmly. “They will of course need alterations to fit you perfectly, but there is time for that.”

“Oh. Cool,” Claire said dumbly as she followed the women down the winding halls. Claire was not a dress wearer. “Earlier, you said something about a staff?” she asked the housekeeper.

“Yes, my lady,” the woman nodded. “I have assembled a team of my best. They are waiting to meet you and are eager to serve.”

“As is customary, you shall have a guard posted at your door for protection, two ladies to assist with dressing and styling your hair, a chambermaid to tidy your rooms and a personal servant to assist you with bathing, dressing, and anything else you should require.” Frigga explained.

“Bathing?” Claire balked. “I can- I mean, I don’t want to seem ungrateful but that really isn’t necessary. I can bathe myself.”

“It is your preference of course,” the housekeeper replied as they began to climb a set of stairs. “Your staff will do anything and everything you require, you merely need ask.”

“You are fully within your right to dismiss any member of your staff should they displease you,” Frigga added. “Should you dismiss them, they will be replaced quickly and with little disruption. Your personal servant will oversee everything and handle matters such as your correspondence and setting appointments. Should you travel, they will travel with you.” Frigga said as they reached the top of the stairs.

“How often will I meet with Loki?” Claire asked. Frigga and the housekeeper led her away from the landing and down a hallway.

“Many times, dear,” Frigga said gently. “There are official functions you will attend together prior to the wedding, but I remember well how it felt to arrive in a strange land to marry a strange man. I have already made arrangements for the two of you to become acquainted in the coming weeks.”

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you,” Claire smiled. She liked Frigga already. There was a calming air about her, and Frigga seemed kind and caring. “I take it you and Odin-”

“Oh yes,” Frigga chuckled. “We were betrothed for many, many years before I made the journey here to Asgard, but we did not meet until I arrived at the altar.”

“Yikes,” Claire cringed. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was terrifying,” Frigga giggled, a fond look stealing over her face as they turned a corner. “I was shaking so horribly, I thought I might collapse! But I survived, and I have a wonderful marriage to show for it.”

“That’s...great.” Claire replied, slowing as she spied a line of people standing against the wall outside of a set of double doors.

“Here we are,” Frigga said jovially. “Your staff has prepared everything for you.” In unison, the five people outside the doors moved to pay their respects. The guard bowed at the waist, his armor clinking as he moved. The women curtsied, delicately and perfectly.

“May I present your ladies: Helga, Koza, Kari, and your personal servant Ragna.” As her name was spoken, each of the women bowed their heads in respect to Claire. Claire had seen many odd things in her line of work, but she had never before met a person with pink skin.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Claire smiled. “I’m sure we will get along wonderfully.”

“That’s the spirit,” Frigga’s hand settled on Claire’s shoulder. “Come, come, let’s get you settled. Fetch the seamstress at once.” Frigga said as the door was opened. She allowed Claire to step inside first, following shortly after.

The door opened onto a spacious and lush living room. A fireplace crackled at one end of the room, a gilded mirror hanging above it. Built in shelving flanked the fireplace, tastefully decorated with items Claire was sure cost a fortune. A large white couch took up much of the wall beside the door, but what drew Claire’s attention were the tall windows lining the opposite wall. Floor to ceiling window panes bathed the room in buttery sunlight, the delicate lace of the curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze. A dining table sat against the wall opposite the fireplace, with an open door beside it. Claire followed the door, stepping into a bedroom with a sprawling bed and a desk. A room divider stood sentry in the corner beside another crackling fireplace. The bedroom led to a bathroom with a sunken stone tub and a beautiful vanity.

“Are you pleased?” Frigga asked hopefully as Claire returned to the bedroom.

“It’s beautiful,” Claire smiled. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

“This shall be where you stay until you marry. You may decorate any way you wish. Once you are wed, you will move to Loki’s chambers in the East wing.”

“Your Majesty?” one of Claire’s new staff stepped into the doorway. “The seamstress is here.” Frigga clapped her hands excitedly, eager to introduce her new daughter to the fine dresses she’d had made for her.

“Wonderful, show her in!”

~~~~

Several hours later, after Claire had been undressed, measured, dressed, pinned, then undressed again, it was mercifully time for dinner. Claire was annoyed beyond measure (ha) at having been subjected to feminine torture. She had never enjoyed wearing dresses and now it was all she was allowed to wear. She had tried to be excited- after all, the fabrics were sumptuous- but trying on dresses had never been her idea of fun.

To make matters worse, she’d already disappointed her future mother-in-law. Frigga was obviously excited to have her and Claire wanted to share her excitement, but being told she wasn’t allowed to wear pants was crossing the line.

So now she was at a massive feast- the pink skinned woman from earlier had shown her the way (Kira? Ragna?)- attempting to drown her sorrows in fantastic wine while people stared at her from their tables. Whether they didn’t approach out of fear, respect or maybe Frigga had asked them not to bother her; Claire didn’t care what the reason, she was just grateful.

She was not, however, grateful for the person sitting to her left.

“Are you attempting to drown yourself or make this event a better one?” Loki asked from beside her. “I believe that is your fourth.”

“Ha ha,” Claire replied flatly. “Look at you; able to count to four.”

“If you find that remarkable, you would overwhelmed by my ability to count beyond one hundred.”

Claire had been subject to such stimulating conversation since dinner began. She and Phil had already spent several minutes gushing about their new digs when Loki arrived like a storm cloud. Claire knew before she arrived that it would be a while before they got a feel for each other. Right now they were like two liquids trying to reach equilibrium, and all through the courses- a tiny salad with red and purple leaves and vinegar-y dressing, a spicy squash soup, and succulent roast lamb and fish, seared vegetables and broiled potatoes- they had been trading sarcastic barbs like merchants traded coins.

“Is there a reason you’re showing off your ability to imbibe?” Loki asked. “Are you unhappy with your chambers? Your new wardrobe perhaps?”

“Nope, this wine is just really good,” Claire said as she drained her goblet for the fourth time. “I think my cup is broken.”

“I am surprised it is intact, actually,” Loki remarked coolly. “I half expected you to smash it on the ground just as Thor would.”

“I can do that?” Claire asked excitedly. “I wanna smash stuff- hey!” she protested when Phil pulled the cup from her hand.

“No smashing,” he chastised. “This is our first night here, we need to make a good impression.”

“Yes mom,” Claire sneered. “Can I have my cup back?”

“Are you going to smash it?” Phil asked.

“No, I need it to keep drinking.”

“Perhaps you should stop,” Loki advised from her left. “Otherwise you’ll have a terrible case of veisalgia.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Claire replied, like a mature adult. “If I want to get blackout drunk, I will.”

“I am only offering advice, darling, you do not have to take it.”

“Aw thanks, sugar plum ,” Claire simpered, grinning unrepentantly when Loki glared at her. “So what is veisa- what did you call it?” she giggled. She was starting to feel the wine. Had the torches always been swirly? Oh, that lamb was sitting in her stomach like a stone. “Is that like a hangover?”

“Yes,” Loki huffed. “You are rather annoying, were you aware of that?”

“You’re annoying,” Claire scoffed. “So’s your-” a loud hiccup escaped her, to which Loki rolled his eyes. “Your face.”

“My face?” Loki balked. “What is wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Claire grumbled, scooting down in her seat to sulk like a child. “That’s why it’s annoying.”

Loki didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. Either way, this was shaping up to be a most amusing meal. Claire had clearly over-served herself and it was catching up to her.

“Do you always over-indulge?”

“Everybody has vices, sugar plum. Some of us drink really good wine, and some of us try to take over planets.” Claire giggled like she had told a hilarious joke, but Loki’s jaw flexed as rage boiled beneath his skin.

“You think to mock me?” he asked lowly, shifting in his seat to lean into her personal space. With her so low in her seat, he loomed over her. “You know nothing .” he snarled.

Something sparked in her blue eyes, and for a moment Loki thought he’d frightened her, but before he could feel the thrill of satisfaction, she grinned up at him.

“Talk more,” she pleaded. “You’re really sexy when you get all growly like that.” Loki made a noise of disgust before he shot to his feet, grabbing her empty goblet and smashing it on the stone floor.

“Another!” he shouted, leaving the great hall and his drunken future wife behind. She could drink herself into a stupor for all he cared.

#covenant #loki fic #loki x ofc

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