Chapters: 4/?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Loki & Thor (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes/Loki/Steve Rogers
Characters: Loki (Marvel), Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes
Additional Tags: Everyone Has Issues, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Because I said so that's why, Magic, Dark Magic, Swearing
Summary: Sanctuary sprawls over the landscape like some sort of spiky, cancerous growth, or a tentacled creature made of metal and bone, and the land is a ruin all around it even beyond the massive perimeter of structures fused with the rock beneath. It hurts Steve and Bucky just to be here long enough to unmake the Stones after Thanos's defeat; the place would probably kill an ordinary human outright. The last thing they expect to find is a living prisoner.
so I finally posted another chapter
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Chapters: 3/8
Fandom: 少年歌行 | The Blood of Youth (Live Action TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lei Wujie/Ye Ruoyi, Sikong Qianluo/Xiao Se | Xiao Chuhe, Sikong Qianluo/Wu Xin | Ye Anshi
Characters: Xiao Lingchen, Lei Wujie, Xiao Se | Xiao Chuhe, Ji Xue (The Blood of Youth), Sikong Qianluo, Ye Ruoyi, Wu Xin | Ye Anshi, Tang Lian (The Blood of Youth)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Pre-Relationship, Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Dancing, background Xiao Lingchen/Mu Chunfeng
Series: Part 1 of Blood of Youth Regency AU
Summary:
At the first ball of the season, Xiao Chuhe, the second son of Lord Xiao, and his friends are awaiting the arrival of Captain Tang, who is escorting two friends on their introduction into society. But it is not only new friends who shall find their way to this infamous corner of the ballroom
Chapter 3: Young Master Xiao, Xiao Chuhe
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[ cw: nightmares / trauma / ]
Post-invasion, Mikey sneaks into Leo’s room and when asked by Leo what the problem was, Mikey just smiles and says since he’s awake and knew Leo would be too, he didn’t want either of them alone. Leo laughs and lets Mikey stick around, both of them clumped together on Leo’s bed, watching grainy compilations of old Lou Jitsu commercials on Leo’s phone.
Technically, Mikey didn’t lie. He just didn’t explain everything that led him to Leo’s room. He didn’t explain the nightmare of his arms burning up too bright, too fast, destroyed before Raph and Donnie have a chance to help. He didn’t explain how he woke up with a wail caught in his throat, phantom pain in his arms and chest alike chasing away any semblance of exhaustion. He didn’t explain how his mind made sure he knew, vividly, that if one thing went wrong with his portal, then he would have never seen Leo again.
He didn’t explain, and he didn’t have to. Leo knows his brothers better than he knows himself, and Mikey has always been easy to read. So it’s no trouble to let Mikey know that he’s still with them, that Leo is here and alive with everyone else. And when Mikey finally regains his exhaustion and falls asleep leaning against Leo, Leo simply maneuvers him into a more comfortable position and stays by his side.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t go to sleep - not that he could, anyway. He just mindlessly scrolls on his phone, the soft snores of his little brother filling the room. He stays in place, awake, because he wants to be sure that when Mikey wakes up again it’s to the immediate sight that Leo is alive and well and home.
And, if Leo’s bring honest, that’s a reminder not just for Mikey’s sake.
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Eddie leaves the lights on for Steve.
The two of them are off schedule right now — Steve is stuck on late shifts and Eddie is working early mornings; more often than not Eddie is asleep by the time Steve stumbles in, but Eddie always leaves a light on.
He knows Steve’s least favorite part of working late (amid a myriad of perfectly good reasons to hate working late) is coming home to see the apartment quiet and dark. It reminds him a little too sharply of the years he spent in his parents’ empty house, feeling small and alone in a maze of cold, impersonal rooms, so Eddie gives him a little sign of life.
Sometimes it’s the hall light, illuminating Eddie’s keys and wallet on their rickety side table, where Steve’s join them in short order.
Sometimes it’s the kitchen light, showing Steve some kind of snack Eddie’s left out for him to inhale before bed (it’s never anything special, per se; nine times out of ten it’s just peanut butter and jelly, but it’s usually the first thing Steve will get to eat all evening and he doesn’t have to make it himself, so it’s actually the greatest thing in the world).
Sometimes the bathroom light is on, which quickly becomes Steve’s favorite because it’s often accompanied by little notes stuck to the mirror – colorful pieces of paper covered in doodles, or declaring Eddie’s over-the-top devotion in sleepy misspellings, or snatches of song lyrics (and once, memorably, Eddie’s “To Do” list for the next day, under the heading of which he’d only written Steve’s name; Steve had snorted so hard trying not to laugh that he may have actually damaged something).
Tonight, it’s the living room light. That one’s new.
And what Eddie’s left in the living room for Steve to find is, in fact, Eddie himself. He’s dressed in boxers and an old t-shirt, as if he’d been preparing to go to sleep but had instead planted himself on the sofa in front of the old movie playing on the TV. He’s made it to sleep anyway, though, snoring quietly with his head thrown back against the top of the couch.
Steve shuts off the TV and gives Eddie a gentle shake.
“Eddie. Hey,” he says, quiet but firm, “time for bed. Your back’s gonna kill you if you sleep like that, and then I’ll have to listen to you bitch about it all day tomorrow.”
Eddie puts up a little resistance, frowning and shifting away from the shaking of Steve’s hand on his shoulder, but once he finally wakes and blinks away the bleariness, he smiles as his eyes land on Steve.
“Hello,” he murmurs.
“Hey.” Steve can’t help but laugh a little, even as he’s cupping a warm hand around the back of Eddie’s neck with the beginnings of worry expanding in his chest. “What are you doing up?”
The drowsy smile remains firmly on Eddie’s face, and he pushes through any of Steve’s concerns about nightmares or aching scars playing up by reaching up to cradle Steve’s jaw in his palms. “Just wanted to see your pretty face,” he says, just the right side of smarmy. “And here it is.”
He leans in for a kiss that Steve returns with warm enthusiasm, but which is ended too soon by a jaw-cracking yawn from Eddie. Steve shakes his head, standing from the couch and pulling Eddie up with him.
“Seriously, though, what are you doing out here? You have to work tomorrow.”
Eddie shrugs. “Just thought I’d wait up for you. Figured it’d be nice to come home to, or some shit.”
“Oh.”
It’s all Steve can think of saying, really, because – well, no one’s ever done that before. No one has ever waited up for him, has ever altered their schedule just to welcome him home, has ever done so much just to remind him that he isn’t alone.
“Should I… not have done that?” Eddie asks, and Steve realizes that he’s been quiet, unresponsive, for a moment too long. “Because if it’s weird or something, then–”
Steve swoops in for another kiss, stealing the rest of Eddie’s anxious words and swallowing them down, pressing his gratitude and his love into the shape of Eddie’s mouth.
“Thank you,” Steve breathes when they pull apart.
“Yeah. No problem,” Eddie says, his voice soft and not at all as casual as he’s probably aiming for.
“I love seeing you when I come home– even if you are out cold on the couch,” Steve teases.
“Okay, falling asleep was not part of the plan,” Eddie breaks off with a yawn. “God, what time is it, anyway?”
Steve glances at the VCR, but he’s too tired to get his eyes to focus well enough to read the time. He takes a stab at guessing. “11:30, I think?”
“Oh god,” Eddie groans, dropping his head against Steve’s shoulder. “Not even fucking midnight. I’m old, Steve.”
Rolling his eyes, Steve pries Eddie away and turns him so he can chivy him down the hall towards the bedroom.
“Just sell me to the glue factory now, get it over with,” Eddie continues, and Steve laughs.
“But if I do that, no one will be around to leave the lights on for me.”
Heaving an enormous sigh, Eddie flops down on the bed. “I guess.”
Steve effectively hides his laughter by stripping his work shirt up and over his head. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” he says.
“For you?” Eddie asks, watching as Steve tosses his shirt towards the hamper and sets to work on his pants. “Nah. Never.”
There’s a sleepy sort of sincerity in Eddie’s gaze when Steve looks back up at him, something raw and real and warm, that makes Steve unable to doubt him, even for a moment.
Something that promises the lights will always be on when Steve needs them.
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Loki (TV 2021)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Loki/Sylvie (Loki TV)
Characters: Loki (Marvel), Sylvie (Loki TV), Mobius M. Mobius
Additional Tags: Collaboration, Idiots in Love, McSylki, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Timeslipping, Pie Room, Speculation for Loki (TV) Season 2, Mobius ships Sylki, TVA | Time Variance Authority (Marvel), POV Sylvie (Loki TV)
Word count: 2,439
Summary: And then Loki—rips apart. It happens fast, whatever it is, like he’s glitching on a screen, only it looks like someone’s pulling him apart in strings of taffy. He manages half a strangled shout before he snaps out of existence entirely. For a couple seconds Sylvie just stares, waiting for him to reappear, and when he doesn’t, she rounds on Mobius. “What the fuck was that?”
Written for Baton Pass Round 5 for the Sylki Artists server.
Reposted because the original Baton Pass Round 5 fic accidentally got deleted and also I wanted this on my profile as a standalone fic so I could be obsessive about organizing my stuff. kind of good timing because ACTUAL MCSYLKI IS HAPPENING THIS WEEK, GUYS. it will have absolutely nothing in common with with my fic but it’s HAPPENING
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What is the equivalent of the phrase "Oh my God" that Bill uses? Is he mentioning some god figure from his home dimension or is he using “Oh my me” or “Oh my Axolotl”?
He doesn't use anything.
Have you ever heard an atheist say "oh my big bang" instead of "oh my god"? In common usage, the word "god" in "oh my god" is merely part of a stock phrase and not a declaration of belief. In fact, changing "god" to another term would instantly make it more religious, since if you just say "oh my god" it's like "well maybe they believe in a god or maybe they're just using the phrase," but if you say "oh my [something else]" it's like "they DEFINITELY believe in [something else] so passionately that they changed the phrase just to emphasize how much they believe in it."
If Bill ever used the phrase, he would use it like a foreign word pronounced omaigohd that's just an exclamation that communicates a specific emotional meaning to English-speakers (anger, shock, excitement)—and he's not going to get all cutesy while speaking a foreign language to draw attention to something irrelevant. This exclamation isn't an avenue to announce his religious beliefs.
There ARE issues he feels passionately enough about that he'd break away from common English. Unless he's in "pretending to be human" mode, at any place where a human would naturally refer to themself as "a person," "a woman/man," "female/male," "she/he," Bill will refer to himself as "a shape," "a triangle," "triangular," "it," even in contexts where that sounds weird to the humans. His gender is triangle and that matters to him. Religion does not.
At any rate, there's no [something else] he could fill into the phrase. He knows for a fact that there are figures powerful enough to alter reality—he is one. He suspects on good evidence that there are even more powerful figures that can conjure an entire universe from nothing—he is not one. He considers "power" and "divinity" to be separate things, he doesn't think powerful figures are divine, and he doesn't think the divine is real. He thinks "god" is an artificial social label, like "king," that only exists when enough people concur that it's real and stops existing when enough people stop respecting it. He thinks "god" is what the weak call the powerful when they've been fooled into thinking the powerful deserve worship. He thinks he's one of the powerful that fools the weak. He doesn't think he's a god—except when he's lying to himself very well—but he loves how it feels when other people call him a god, so he encourages it. He doesn't consider anybody god, he doesn't obey or respect any authority, and generally the more powerful a being is, the more he dislikes them on principle. One trillion years ago, the beliefs he was raised with were the sort a white American boomer experiencing a religious crisis would insist are "spiritual but not religious." He briefly thought gods might be real in his youth, but never worshiped any.
But all that aside—his vocabulary simply doesn't include the phrase "oh my god." He doesn't want to imply he even might worship something—he's too proud and that pride is too fragile. If he has to make an exclamation, it'll be something entirely different—"Oh boy." "Oh, come on!" "You're kidding me." "Seriously?" "Whoa!" "Wow!" "No way," maybe hysterical laughter—whatever's fitting in a given situation. Several times in the fic I've had to go find a different phrase where if he was another character I could've just put "omigosh".
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