#yes i wish this show had a reputation outside the fandom for more than just 'the one with really good fight scenes'

[nitw]

GOOD NEWS EVERYONE THE PROPAGANDA IS FINALLY WORKING

#yes i'm easily amused by fun action and i lose my mind over every single fight scene in this show - #yes i wish this show had a reputation outside the fandom for more than just 'the one with really good fight scenes' #this is an AUTISM POWER FANTASY FIRST and a SUPERPOWER ANIME SECOND #leo.txt #mp100 #mob psycho 100

[infernalrevenge]

Cuddle Bug

Fandom: Resident Evil 8: Village

Pairing: Cassandra Dimitrescu x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G/T

Summary: Despite what Cassandra Dimitrescu may say or do, you know that she is not above snuggling in bed with you.

Notes: Honestly, I wrote this because I wanted to have the title “Cuddle Bug” and relate it to one of the Dimitrescu sisters. I also love the thought of the tough and sadistic Cassandra getting all soft and whiny because she wants a hug from her beloved. I think everyone (who wants it) deserves a good hug, you know? So this is that :P Also I know that technically all the staff in Castle Dimitrescu were women, but you know what, Maggie said everyone is welcome inside therefore reader is still gender neutral (and also as long as you’re willing to make yourself useful, who are they to turn down the help, right?)

----------

House Dimitrescu.

Their family name alone striked terror in the hearts of many, especially those who knew the stories. Of maidens going missing. How their screams could be heard in the castle dungeon, never to be seen or heard from again. But if they were – they never came back the same.

The reputation they upheld was of fear and respect. No one dared to deny these women what they wanted, lest they suffer the consequences.

At least, that was what Cassandra told you, glaring at the back of your head as you went about your work.

“What do you mean you’re busy?” You could practically hear the pout in her voice.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Miss Cassandra, but I do have duties around the castle that I really need to attend to ‘lest I suffer the consequences’ of your mother’s wrath.”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and planting herself back onto the couch. “Ugh, but what’s one hour? Come on, Y/N, can’t you indulge me for just one hour?”

You turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised, “One hour is still an hour too long not spent doing what I need to do. And besides, I know that when it comes to you, one hour is not just one hour.” It’d be more like three hours, at least.

“Not just one hour,” she muttered under her breath mockingly, almost unaware that she was technically making fun of herself in that regard. It was funny seeing her like this, acting quite childishly when she didn’t get her way.

You knew better than anyone the reputation Cassandra had not just as a member of the Dimitrescu family to outsiders, but also to her own family. She was the ruthless hunter, calculating and cunning. She may not be the fastest or the strongest, but she knew how to take down prey like she was born to do it, with efficiency and wit. She treasured her weapons for this reason and consistently honed her skills so that she could do her mother proud.

Not only that, but she was considered the least forgiving of the staff’s mistakes (second only to Lady Dimitrescu). She had zero tolerance for fooling around, and if she caught anyone making even the smallest slight against them, she would have their head on a silver platter in a second, ready to serve it to the lady of the castle.

She didn’t like showing her favoritism toward you where others could see, despite your relationship being an open secret at this point, because of that reputation. In everyone’s eyes, she had to have that same tough exterior, to show no mercy, and to never let her guard down – everything that the Cassandra Dimitrescu was known for.

But at the end of the day, when those same eyes that watched her every move retired for the night, she would seek you out – then she would show another side to her.

The one that wanted to be kept warm and held under dim candle light. Who wanted her hair played with while her beloved talked about their day, soothed by the sound of your voice. Who wanted to rest her head on your chest and feel your heartbeat against her cheek, and the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you eventually drifted off to sleep.

And the brat. She was quite the brat. She wanted to have her way the moment she would ask, and when she didn’t – oh, she would get it no matter what. You would say she rivaled her sister Daniela in that regard, and it often got them in trouble.

You were part of the lucky few allowed to see those other sides of her, when she could let the mask slip and just be herself. Not as the second daughter of Alcina Dimitrescu, not as the best hunter of the clan – just as herself. As Cassandra.

You loved all of her, like she did you. But you will spare yourself from Lady Dimitrescu’s scolding and punishment if you could help it.

She seemed rather determined to ignore you when you stopped replying, already faced the other way as she sunk deeper onto the cushions. You just knew she was still pouting about it though, and with a fond roll of your eyes, you walked in front of her.

“Cass, after I do my chores, I promise we can have our alone time together, okay?” you said, smiling softly.

When she finally decided to give you her attention, eyebrows still furrowed and lips pursed, you could pinpoint the exact second her resolve melted away as she mirrored your expression. A dramatically exasperated sigh escaped her, leaning back. “Fine… Same time as usual?”

“Of course.”

----------

Night had fallen, and the only light in your small quarters came from the moonlight spilling in through the window high above the wall. You were just about to light a candle on your nightstand when a gentle knock came on the door.

It came as no surprise to see a familiar brunette on the other side of it, her golden eyes glowing in the dark. You silently invited her in, closing the door behind her. She was uncharacteristically quiet then, for such a time that the hiss of the match being lit aflame was the only sound heard for a long while. The mix of warm yellow light and the cool blue light outlining her features made her look so soft, especially seeing her without her hood and cloak on.

“You’re not mad at me for earlier, right?” she muttered, eyes cast down and wringing her hands together.

“Not at all, Cass. I kinda like how needy you are,” you joked, gently taking one of her hands and encasing it on yours. You can see how she was comforted by the warmth of your touch, contrasting with her cold skin.

“I’m not needy,” she defended, stepping closer. She wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you against her and melting into you. “I just like being near you. And being with you. That’s all.”

You turned your face into her neck and breathed in her scent, a mix of roses and copper, and hugged her even closer. “I do too.”

“You know you’re my favorite, right?”

You chuckled softly against her, and you swore she shivered just a little when you did. “I know. You’re mine too.”

“Good. I better be.”

You pulled away for a while to face her, and she whined at the loss of contact. “Bed?”

She rested her forehead against yours and nodded, and before you knew it, the both of you were under the covers on the tiny mattress. She was huddled close to you – her head on your chest, an arm over your waist, and leg slung over both of yours in a position you were very familiar with. If you didn’t stop her, she would have laid herself completely on top of you. Not that you would’ve minded.

“Anything exciting happen today?” she asked, shifting to look up at you, her face just inches from yours.

“Not much really. We were told that Lady Beneviento was going to be visiting in a few days, so it was just a reminder from Lady Dimitrescu on what to expect and how to behave. Especially around Miss Angie.”

She giggled, “Do you really receive sermons about how to behave around the doll?”

“More like how not to behave around her. It’s about the same set of warnings we receive when we interact with Miss Daniela.”

“Well sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between the two.”

It was your turn to giggle, “I’m inclined to agree.”

Cassandra nuzzled deeper into your embrace, pulling the blanket over her shoulder. She seemed pensive all of a sudden, too much going through her mind as she grew quiet. You turned and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, which made her rub her cheek against your shoulder as she pulled you in tighter.

“What’s on your mind, Cass?”

She shook her head, “Nothing. I just… wish we could always be like this. Together. Warm. Safe.”

The thought brought a smile to your face. “We could be, but–”

“Yes yes, Mother would have your head or something, whatever,” she harrumphed, “Indulge me once in a while, will you?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Once in a while? Need I remind you how often you come down to stay here with me at night?”

“As if you would ever deny me.”

You pecked her softly on the tip of her nose, “Never.”

You could see the faint glow of pink on her cheeks, a silent moment passing before she resumed her position on you. “The cuddling is nice, of course, but I meant being with you in general. Just you. Forever.”

The way she was admitting this to you made your chest all tingly, filled with the same butterflies as when you first realized you were in love with the Dimitrescu. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too widely and giggling. When did you turn into such a sap? You could probably ask the same of her.

“Forever’s a long time, Cass. You think I could last that long?”

“I’ll make you last that long,” she answered rather quickly, like she didn’t want to dwell on the thought of not having you around.

“That almost sounds like a threat," you huffed out a laugh.

“More like… a promise," she murmured, though she sounded more serious than you did.

For all the softness that you could invoke from one Cassandra Dimitrescu, this was probably the closest thing you would ever hear to an admission of love from her.

You’ll take it.

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #dimitrescu daughters #dimitrescu sisters #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #if you saw this accidentally posted earlier no you didnt HAHAHA #but yeah y'all are getting double uploads today woot woot #i just didnt mean to post it hours before i meant to #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil #re8

[potteresque-ire]

Hi! I have been reading your posts and responses to anonymous and I am inclined to comment on your broadly realistic views and detailed analystic answers and let us not forget your ability to be warm in putting forward your opinions. I am truly a huge fan. Thank you for being a station for various answer seekers.

If you have time and patience, please elaborate on the situation GG is still facing post 227. Recently I read various comments insinuating GG copied DD for Douyin night which is absurd but the implication that only one party is still being targeted unnecessarily raise hackles of a lot of solo fans. And I, under any circumstances, DO NOT believe the involvement of the other party. Firm believer of BJYXSZD.

My point is what is being done to stop these antis from targeting GG. Since one of the motive to target GG is to severe the relationship of GG and DD, IMO at least. Does constant attack (external stimulus) on GG (belittling him by comparing him to DD) may have the possibility to effect their relationship (internal reaction)? Objectively yes, but given your perception of their relationship, what is your opinion in this matter, however subjective it may be?

Moreover, how much extreme and sometimes irrational analysis done by bjyx community can lead to harm to both of them especially GG?

Also, I have seen DD being the captain of BJYX in various circumstances but also throwing off people from their old predicted/maintened theories especially in case of Kadians. I am not sure how much to trust these 'candies' since he has a reputation of not giving a f*** of others opinion. So why would he post GG related or non-related content with same kadians. I mean if he posts private content with GG related kadian then why post promotional content with GG related kadian. Does it imply that kadians are related to GG or not or he doesn't care and we are thinking too much. I am not sure what I am writing now, maybe multitude of thoughts poring out here. I am extremely sorry for that.

I do not know whether people believe or not but 1st post by GG yesterday had initials YB in the circle. Not at all explicit, and depends on believers but I felt like he was just trolling BJYX, it may be good naturedly but after his promotional brand picture of shrimp in bunny's hand. I do not know I just felt, dissappointed/bitter/unsure about all of this. I think it is normal to feel this way from time to time even for SZD because along with emotional investment we have rational perspective which is necessary to scrutinize evidence(maybe) from time to time.

I whole heartedly apologize for writing an essay length ask, this is the reason I wanted your patience 😅.

If any other blogger wants to add or comment on this please feel free to do so. Your suggestions are highly welcomed. 🙏

Hello Anon!

I take it that your questions about safety are concerned about the behaviour of c-solos and c-turtles? International fans aren’t likely to put Gg and Dd at any risk. That said, however, frequent fighting among i-fans would likely drain Gg and Dd’s international fanbase, as many fans do not enjoy being a combative atmosphere (I, for one, will run away as quickly as a turtle can run!). Lost i-fans can’t be easily replenished, whether they’re turtles or solos ~ The Untamed, as a foreign language show so beloved that fans are willing to scale tall language and cultural barriers to understand it, isn’t something that comes around often. (stanning Gg and/or Dd does take a lot of work!)

About the arguments. I probably only know about a fraction of them since I do not interact directly with fans outside Tumblr . As far as I can tell, however, recent arguments among c-solos and c-turtles have been ordinary fights, and also, fairly “bi-directional” between the solos (ie. I don’t think Gg or Dd has been relatively exempt from attacks compared to each other). 

These arguments can be heated and some of the attacks may sound vicious, but there’s nothing much to worry about from a safety angle, as they haven’t caught the attention of those outside the fan circles.

The theorising by turtles are also not inherently dangerous. c-turtles have mostly been careful about keeping their discussions among themselves. The only risk it may lead to in the future, that I can think of right now, is the associated YiZhan content on China-based websites (ex. Bilibili, Douyin), which has become fairly plentiful. YiZhan candies used to be relatively obscure given the guidelines of CP fans to keep them among themselves (they call this practice 圈地自萌, literally, drawing a circle on the ground and have fun in it by oneself). These days, however, anyone who’s curious can get a good sense of YiZhan’s story by browsing Bilibili. 

This probably contributes to the continued growth of the turtle population; however, some of this content is created by non-turtles who seek viewership and have little concern over Gg and Dd’s safety. They are the ones who re-upload the BTS, for example, despite the repeated pleas and warnings by the “站姐”s—the superfans who take/purchase these videos—as well as the turtles to not do that. If these content creators go overboard, there’s a possibility that YiZhan content may get caught in the government’s “Eradicating Pornography and Illegal Publications”（掃黃打非) movement. The movement originated in the mid 2000s, and its recent waves have been used as pretext to remove LGBT+ and BL content on line (I will eventually set up a post re: those events). Just last month (2020 Dec), Bilibili has been explicitly named by the government for hosting questionable materials, which means it’s already under scrutiny. Sweeps performed on an entire website are usually broad-based enough that no specific individuals are targeted; however, the government also encourages, with financial incentives, the reporting of specific content and has set up a dedicated website for doing so. While all YiZhan content has no direct relation to Gg and Dd, removal of such content may cause an over-reaction from fans, which can, in turn, lead to accusations of poor fan management by Gg and Dd. Most people will also assume the YiZhan content to be created by turtles.

(Another example of how an alleged turtle mis-step can get the YiZhan fandoms and Gg and Dd tied to the 掃黃打非 movement: a few days ago, a Weibo post showed a photo of a hardcover version of an explicit BJYX fanfic, reportedly sold for profit, and GG haters were calling for an arrest for “illegal publication.” So far, there’s minimal noise on the issue, so it isn’t something to worry about. It can also be fake news, which is so bountiful on the platform and on every aspect of daily life that most die a very peaceful, very well-deserved death.).

Whether fan arguments / theories may affect Gg and Dd’s relationship (assuming they’re in a relationship) … my guess is, not much. Gg and Dd are busy people, unlikely to closely follow their fans’ discussions. Again, I expect effects to be felt only if the arguments get out of hand ~ as in, if they begin to involve the public and/or the government.

As for the question about what is being done to stop Gg being targeted: fan wars are incredibly common in China (as in everywhere else), and Gg and Dd’s aren’t special in that sense ~ it’s just that as turtles, we know about those surrounding Gg and Dd and they feel significant to us. No individuals can stop a fan war ~ all we can do is to not join these wars ourselves.

Personally, I think the international fan base of Gg and Dd, as solos and cpfs, have more chance to achieve peace than its Chinese counterparts — if they choose to want that. Popularity in China is not only quantified (which is likely true everywhere, by marketing departments), but very visibly so. Sales numbers, votes, traffic attributed to each idol are frequently released to the public, possibly to foster competition among fans and drive these numbers further upward. c-turtles’ demonstrated strong performance in pushing these metrics has made them a target to those who wish to have usurp their consumer power. They, therefore, have good reasons to be wary of anyone who try to sway them from their “turtle-ship”, whether to turn them into solos or to lure them into an entirely different fandom. The swaying messages are also not always obvious, not always a direct “your cp suck”.  They can be subtle, many even come from netizens who appear to be fellow turtles, who may say “oh, maybe we (turtles) are wrong” or “we have to be realistic; Gg and Dd will never look at each other publicly again”—messages that cast doubt and sink morale in a fandom that’s already running an uphill battle. Remember: traditionally, CP fandoms are not expected or welcomed to last, and solos have been happy to (correctly) point out that the BTS, the origin of the most solid “evidences” of BJYXSZD, are getting older by the day. c-turtles can’t expect anyone else to help defend their ship if something happens, given CP fandoms’ lack of respectability, given YiZhan being a real person M/M pairing that is often frowned upon. So it’s understandable, to me at least, why c-turtles are on guard, and occasionally, clash with those who they feel may be trying to take away what they love.

i-turtles, I feel, don’t have that many reasons to fight. We don’t really have other fandoms (for example, the up and coming danmeis—the adapted BL dramas) vying for our attention (and wallets). No one can put an expiration date on the YiZhan communities except ourselves.

Another way to see this is: we—as in, the combined Gg + Dd international fanbase, the solos + CPFs—are lucky in a way the fans in Gg and Dd’s home country are not. Collectively, we’re much further removed from the pressure to perform as fans, which is immense in China with their fan circle culture and fan economy. i-shrimps and i-motorcycles ~ some of you are reading this, I think? (hello!) ~ here are my humble thoughts: the solo/turtle ratio of Gg and Dd’s international fans doesn’t make much of an impact on Gg and Dd’s star status, on the popularity metrics that matter. Our spending power is limited outside China’s borders, and while Gg and Dd likely love us equally as fans, our adoration for them doesn’t really matter much, if at all, to the production/media/commercial companies that control the trajectories of their careers. 

Along this line, the turtles’ “double loyalty” doesn’t have much of an ill effect, because there are few popularity contests here that mean much; few times (if any) when the turtles must face the dilemma of whether to vote for Gg or Dd because only a single vote is allowed; few situations where they have only x amount of dollars and must split it equally between Gg or Dd’s endorsements. There’s also much less cause to worry that i-turtles may draw the attention, or ire of the Chinese government ~ the whole international fanbase is too far away, too spread out to destabilise the regime in any way.

What the turtles do have in common with you, the solos, is their knowledge, their love for Gg/Dd. Knowledge, in particular. The people who know about Gg/Dd are still far and in between—at where I am, at least, and my guess is, it’s likely true for many of you too. Think of the turtles as people who you can talk to about your favourite star in places where few people know about him, can help promote The Untamed  far and wide—many people still haven’t heard of the show, and they deserve to.

For the turtles ~ no one can take away our turtle-ship identity, as long as we don’t give it away. No one can report on the our communities to the government and get them dissolved. Our votes, our spending habits are no one else’s business but ours here.

So, Anon, here’s what I think, and these are all very personal opinions, very personal decisions on how to navigate fandom …

I truly hope that we, as the international fanbase, can try to use this luck that we have. Make our communities not mere copies of their (combative) Chinese counterparts but something different, something with our own flavour, something with more peace and less fighting.

Specifically, I see little cause to try to persuade/dissuade anyone to be a solo/turtle. I find them… not the best use of time. Why? Because frankly, neither solos nor turtles have a better grasp of who Gg and Dd are. Neither solos nor turtles have a truly good grasp of who Gg and Dd are. These discussions are therefore bound to end up with more ill will than conclusions, since both sides are short of facts.

We’re all short of facts as audiences, who’ve all only seen a tiny sliver of who Gg and Dd are as human beings.

I don’t mean Gg and Dd’s star image is fake ~ it’s just that, their star image is their “work face”, and even I, a lowly turtle, must act somewhat differently in my own office. It’s part of being professional.

Gg and Dd’s star image are their professional face, and no professionals worth a salt truly ignore other’s opinions, especially when the profession is being an entertainer whose job is to face and hold the attention of the public. 

This is true for Gg; this is true for Dd.

Social media accounts are also part of Gg and Dd’s professional face ~ whatever is posted on there will be scrutinised by millions of fans, and they know that. The posts do provide some insights about Gg an Dd’s personalities, but they can’t be expected to show a complete picture. No parts of these posts, therefore, whether it’s the content or the kadians, are sufficient evidences for / against any aspect of their personal lives (especially as private an aspect as their romantic lives). Anon, you mentioned promotional marketing materials, and here’s my understanding of them ~ ambassadors such as Gg and Dd have minimal control over their design. The shrimp-holding bunny you’re referring to, for example, is very likely provided by the company.

However, may I also add this? Please try to not think of the shrimps / motorcycles as enemies of the turtles. Millions of people are behind each of these labels, and true for any group of this size, a fraction of its members are bound to be annoying. A small fraction may be awful, even. But they don’t represent the entire group. The shrimps are not only Gg’s fans, many of them have supported him longer than any turtle (since turtle-ship can’t be older than 2018); they’re also the reasons why Gg is in the industry ~ they voted for him in X-Fire. Likewise, a subset of motorcycles have been with Dd since UNIQ; they were there when the Korean ban effectively dissolved his group; they stuck with him when he was attacked for taking on the role of LWJ.

We’re all Gg and Dd’s fans, if you ask people outside the fandom. Remember: few outside China understand why heated arguments can occur between a bunch of shrimps, turtles and motorbikes. (It sounds a bit kafkaesque, just typing it out.)

It’s important not to lose sight too, that Gg and Dd’s social media accounts, where many new candies are found, primarily function as bridges of communication between them and their fans. These accounts do have different degrees of “professionalism” ~ Weibo and the official accounts being more formal, and Oasis, Douyin being more laid back and intimate; still, they all serve similar purposes. They’re not candy generators, or a script Gg and Dd have an obligation to follow to confirm / refute BJYXSZD.

Also: these accounts are accessible and watched by the public, not all of whom are friendly to Gg and Dd.

Re: Gg’s drawing on Oasis. He used the account as it’s intended for—to interact with his fans (the caption of the first draft was an unspoken invitation to shower him with ideas) and maybe, to show off a little (it was a very nice piece of artwork ~ a comment that I, sadly, haven’t seen much of). I doubt he posted his drawing because he wanted fans to carpet-search for traces of Dd in it (even though he probably expected that would happen); I very much doubt he posted his drawing because he wanted his fans to fight over scratch marks or black dots.  

If these fights keep happening, I can imagine a possible outcome. He’ll stop showing us his drawings. His social media accounts will become less and less personal, as they already have.

I’ll share with you my thoughts about candies too, while I’m at it. These are probably not-so-popular opinions, so please take them all with a grain of salt.(Salted caramels? 😊 )

I haven’t looked at why candies are called candies, but I find the name appropriate for how I think of them ~ candies are 1) neither evidences or truth, 2) sweet, 3) treats (non-essential, not like the main course).

The first point is, perhaps, the one I try the hardest to keep in mind. There are posts out there claiming the candies as made-beliefs—generated from edited pictures or videos, exaggerated translations, and their interpretations forced by “guidances” in the annotations/narration. There are also posts claiming that turtles are deceivers, or have been deceived by brainwashers who maliciously created these make-beliefs. A turtle may assume these posts are all lies, all made by antis. 

But, speaking turtle-to-turtle, I’d venture to say this … there’s some truth in the *first* statement. Many candies do, indeed, taste different if their taster returns to the original source—not necessarily unsweet, but less sweet. Candies, remember, are generated by fans like you and I. Same for c-candies ~ they aren’t endorsed by Gg and Dd, aren’t necessarily closer to the truth just because of the relative proximity of their birthplaces to their leads. 

Candy generation is The Tradition of CP fandoms. It’s a celebrated skill, and who doesn’t want to generate a candy that will be talked about, that will be part of the BJYX canon, for as long as the fandom lasts? Some fans are, therefore, also more … efficient in the “marketing” of the candies they generated — in persuading others that their candies are evidences, the truth. “Guidance” photos and videos (which pinpoint the place to watch, sometimes with appropriate sound effects for emphasis) have come about that way, and because they’re easy to digest—especially where language barriers exist—they end up spreading to i-fandoms.

These photos and videos may look more professional / trustworthy, but they often have an additional layer of subjectivity ~ on top of the already subjective opinion of what makes a candy. Translations (of BTS, fake rumours house content etc) also introduce a subjective element. Word choices can significant modify the tone of a conversation; speakers of different Chinese dialects may also have different interpretations of the same phrases. Example: I, as a non Chongqing/Sichuanese speaker, can guess the literal meaning of the “puppy” term Gg used for Dd — 狗崽崽 (gou zai zai) — but I also had to rely on others to tell me how endearing the term is; me being a Chinese speaker actually doesn’t make my interpretation any more valid, or authoritative, in this scenario, because my dialect doesn’t use this term at all. 

It doesn’t mean the people who’ve put in the work have any less-than-good intent; the vast majority of them come from a place of deep love. It’s just that we all carry our own perspectives, and as fans, our strong emotions in our fanworks.

This is why candies are often insufficient as good “points” for arguments, why they fail to convince non-believers, sometimes to the disappointment of some turtles. As evidences, they aren’t objective enough; they’re also often touch upon the assumption that’s mark the fundamental difference between solo and cp fans — the assumption that Gg and Dd are (not) together. Take, for example, this segment from a (polite) ask I got from an anon solo:

All the matching clothes, jewelry, shoes etc. Stopped being valid candy when I realized that the brands have popular stars "endorse" their products. The lightning pendant? Other actors have also worn it. Does that mean they are in a 3-way with (Gg) and (Dd)? Probs not.

Solo anon was correct! Brands have star endorsers, and other entertainers have, indeed, worn the same lightning pendant. The implied argument is also valid: people who don’t care about, don’t even know about each other can wear the same things. Most of us do that on a daily basis with our mass-produced garments.

However, a counterargument can also be made to the statement above, and easily: even the most precious, most beautiful wedding rings (say, from Tiffany!) are not exclusive to the first RL couple who bought them. It doesn’t mean the first RL couple is sleeping with all the couples who bought the same rings afterwards, doesn’t mean those rings aren’t significant to every one of these couples as romantic mementos. More often than not, couples wear matching things not because these things are exclusive to them—because how often can one find things that only exist as a single pair in this world? They wear matching things because they want to see something on themselves that remind them of their significant other and so, as long as the things aren’t so prevalent that everyone is wearing them, they can already serve their purpose.

But you see, Anon, that arguing over this would’ve been a waste of time? Because the solo came in with the assumption that Gg and Dd were not a couple, and the counterargument was made with the assumption that they were. The pendants alone are insufficient to prove either side correct or wrong. No one knows why those pendants ended up on Gg and Dd’s necks, except Gg and Dd and their teams. If I were to argue with anon solo, we can go on and on and on until we’re both left with bitter tastes in our mouths and WWX-red in our eyes, and forget the one thing that really matters: we’re both Gg’s fans.

(We could’ve spent the time talking about how that scene in The Wolf with Ji Chong throwing Zai Xing in the water is ❤️.) (I can’t believe the script waited 30+ episodes to do it. 😂)

This leads to my second point, Anon. Candies are meant to be sweet, and they’re meant to be sweet for you. In Chinese, a term for an expert candy person is a 嗑學家 (the candy-eating in CP fandoms is called 嗑糖 (ketang) ～ with 嗑 ke denoting a specific form of eating that requires breaking something open first with teeth—such as watermelon seeds; a 嗑學家 is a 嗑 (ke)-ologist). A 嗑學家 isn’t someone who can recall the longest list of candies, or spread the most candies around, or convince the most people that the CP behind the candies is real; they are those who can find their own candies in a source material, and be overjoyed by the sweetness of their discoveries without outside help. To me, at least, this term encapsulates the subjective nature of candies ~ what’s right for you may not be right for me and vice versa, and that’s perfectly all right. In other words, there are many candies out there but you’re not required to believe in all of them; instead, you’re free to choose candies to your own liking, compose your own version of the BJYX canon that you love, that you find sweet.

Wait, but you may say. Doesn’t that make my canon fantasy? Yes and no, because candies are based on real events. They’re interpretations, which sit somewhere between reality and fantasy. They’re like … opinion shows on news channels.

But what if I need to convince people of my canon —

Your “opposition”’s canon is as fantastical, and as real as yours — maybe it isn’t, but neither of you have a way to prove it one way or another.

Wouldn’t solos call me delulu, or clowns?

Maybe. But one step outside the fandom, and all of us fans—solo and cpfs—are delulu, clowns.

(That’s why while I’ve used the cpn label, I haven’t called myself delulu, or a clown. Anyone who thinks I have the truth about the love story about a pair of idol I haven’t met from thousands of miles away … the joke’s probably on them, don’t you think?)

Of course and again, Anon, this is only my take! I like candies precisely because I like to watch the real-time generation of candies, which ones different people claim as their own, which candies fall away and which stick around in the fandom over time. As a fic writer, this ship has gifted me with a treasure trove of information ~ what do people think of as romantic gestures, as give-away signs of love? The fun/amazing part of BJYX is that candies are available for so many different answers to these questions. Some people think of longing gazes and sweet smiles; some think of touches that can’t be helped (the many, many, many “fights”); some think of service (buying foods, designing clothes); some think of caring about the other’s well-being (throat candies and dumplings + noodles + crackers); some think of being The Other’s One and Only Exception (Dd being so talkative around Gg, Gg being so … fussy around Dd); some think of expressions through the arts (songs, drawings, dances); some think of grand gestures (the wave heart in the ocean); some think of matching clothes and symbolic accessories (rings); some think of birthdays and anniversaries (314, 622, the first snow); some think of sharing life’s hassles and small tidbits (fake rumour house); some think of … just looking VERY good together. Etc etc.

Some think of a subset of these, some think of all of these…

(Personally, I’m a very picky candy eater. I know about many of them, but only a small fraction impresses on me.)

(Still, I love watching candies. I love watching the joy of people sweetened by them ~ or, when c-turtles exclaim kswl! — the short form of ke si wo le! 嗑死我了! I “ke”ed so much I’m dying!)

This gets to 3), Anon, and I apologise to you too, for answering your not-essay-at-all with an essay! Candies are, to me, treats, and I don’t expect them to come at any frequencies higher than treats do. The reason isn’t because I don’t like candies ~ I enjoy watching them, as I said, even if I don’t eat many of them; the reason is because I don’t expect anyone’s romantic love to leave a trace in everything they do. For example, if I truly find myself in a SZD/SJD discussion re: Gg’s drawing, I’d say the lack of Dd in Gg’s self-portrait doesn’t really mean much. Even if Gg and Dd were head-over-heels in love with one another, Gg doesn’t have to put Dd in everything he touches. Likewise, Dd doesn’t have to present a consistent, or decipherable story with his kadians. This is true for the real-life couples around us too, isn’t it? They don’t perform every single act in life leaving a noticeable trace of their significant other. And the misunderstanding that couples do that — that their romantic lives take over who they are as individuals — IMO, partially explains why people who choose to not to date or marry, people who’re aro-aces, often have a difficult time convincing others that they’re complete humans. Romantic love is, of course, very, very important and can be life altering, but it also isn’t everything about a person ~ especially not if a person who has a career as exciting as Gg’s and Dd’s. Gg and Dd who also have friends, family, (many) talents and interests …

(And lots of ugly icons on their cell phones. Yes, I’m talking about you, Gg. That long-armed Pepe from your 2018 snowless Beijing post will give me nightmares…)

#pie metas #pie answers #yizhan #BJYX

[darkmindsotome]

Cruel Innocence

Fandom: Tears of Themis 

Pairing: Artem Wing x (non gender specific) MC

Word count: 2,658

Warning: pining, lovesick.

Written by: darkmindsotome

---

“Thank you for your help.”

He stood next to his partner watching as they bobbed giving a little bow saying goodbye to their new client. Their voice was as bright as the smile on their face.

“We’ll be in touch after we have the documentation ready for you to read through.” His response felt flat by comparison but it couldn’t be helped. Be it at work or in private he often found it difficult to imbue his conversation with emotion.

Gossip was a thing that followed him through life and he was never truly bothered by it, except when he was told he needed to find a work partner. He had a good idea who he would pick, but what if they heard the hearsay in the office? If one was to believe the things that were said about him then his reputation was that of a stern man with ludicrously high expectations and standards to match. It felt like a horrible misunderstanding was now a cosmic joke following him through life.

He had high standards when it came to working, wanting to give the clients the best experience and results possible. It was something he wished those in the firm to aspire too but even he knew it would be difficult to achieve and he wasn't particularly angry when they failed to do so. They were human and the only time his high expectations ever were enforced on someone was when he pushed them on his own shoulders. 

His conversational skills lacked the element of humanity devoid as they were of bits of trivia or sugar coating. Thanks to his issues with crowds and socialising in general he had developed coping mechanisms that had left him with a strong poker face. It wasn't exactly the best if he wanted to be more approachable. He was never good with small talk and didn’t follow anything that was either a trend or on social media. So, his conversations with others revolved around work. The main issue he was aware of was how robotic he could sound when talking. The way the eyes of the people talking to him glazed over or shook with dread and fear as he used direct and concise words to explain things to them. It always hurt to see it, he didn't want to be the bad guy all he wanted was to be reliable and supportive. To help. 

The worries he had about his partner proved to be unfounded. Even when he apologised for boring them or sounding too harsh they smiled and reassured him they didn't think of him in that way. It stunned him when they pointed out little things he had previously been criticized for, and said they thought he was kind. He could almost count on one hand the number of people that had called him that with genuine sincerity. They were all the things he wasn’t, amazing him with some of their comments and observations. Whilst they felt the need to compare themself to him and rise to his level. He always found himself wondering if it was not him who was falling short of the mark. 

Walking back from the client's meeting was pleasant even if the weather was acting seasonally unpleasant. It wasn't raining but the humidity in the air did make it feel like a heavy blanket was covering them as they walked. During the meeting, the client had the air con on full blast which meant that returning to the outside world was even more jarring. As they passed through the cities shopping district he kept glancing out the corner of his eye to check on his partner. Satisfied with them appearing happy and comfortable he shifted his focus back to the work that needed to be done and navigating back to the office. 

A sigh that was so small he thought he imagined it caught his attention. His eyes moved back quickly to the one walking at his side in time to catch them staring longingly at some shops. He looked over at the storefronts the bright decorations did look like something they might enjoy. 

“We have no other business for today, that meeting wrapped up faster than planned. If you wish you can go ahead and—” He didn’t wish to part ways so quickly but if this was something they wanted to do then he would let them go ahead.

“Oh! No, it’s ok I was just thinking… today is kind of a perfect day for getting a bubble tea.” They had an apologetic look on their face as they explained. The way they flustered over such a little misunderstanding had him thinking of them as cute for what must have been the hundredth time today.

“Bubble tea? You mean Boba?” He looked again across the pedestrian walkway and saw one of the brightly decorated shops had a happy little mascot holding up a menu by the door.

“Yes! Have you ever had one Mr Wing?”

“… Once. I don’t know if I can say I enjoyed it.” He remembered the strange texture of tapioca and liquid in his mouth thinking a drink should be a drink not chewy.

“Really?” The smile on their face fell slightly and the animated energy they had seemed sapped right out of them in an instant. He felt guilty knowing that it was a result of what he had said.

“If you want one go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” Gaining his approval, they seemed happy once more. This was something else where their differences made things better. He could be cool, calm and calculating. They were able to experience things on a different level and flip emotions as if they were a simple switch. “Ok, I’ll be right back. Just wait here, ok?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how childlike they were. The excitement of getting a treat had them bouncing along like a happy puppy. If they had not insisted on him staying he would have simply returned to the office without them. Happy to be asked to stay he moved to find a bench under one of the trees in the seating area, sitting down to wait patiently for his partner to return.

Sitting obediently in silence, he noticed the other people. It wasn’t a huge crowd but there were the occasional passing couples that caught his eye. Snuggled up to each other talking as they walked. Pointing to store windows and then buying refreshments and splitting them between them. It was a simple pleasure his heart desired and cursed him for his lack of forthrightness. As much as he might want something he just didn’t have it in him to push for it. A case in point was his one-sided love affair that at times seemed to be all in his head.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and after slipping it out to see what the notification was for a frown developed on his face.

“Don’t need to worry about coming back to work today. Enjoy your date. – Celestine”

It was more of the usual teasing from her and he was used to that but it bugged him all the same. Sometimes it was like the woman had a spy camera on him and it made him wonder if he was that easy to read or if it was simply just Celestine being Celestine. He punched out a reply telling her he didn’t need her to tell him that and put the phone back in his jacket.

“Was it work?”

The voice next to him made him jump. At some point when he had been so focused on his phone, he had missed his partner's return. They were looking at him with a worried expression etched on their beautiful face. He felt sad for being the cause of that smile once more vanishing behind a cloud.

“It was nothing really, just a reminder for something.” He reassured them giving them a faint smile.

“Oh… ok then.” They nodded and looked down at a plastic cup in their hands. An image of the store’s mascot was printed on the film lid and the colour of it was nothing like the boba he remembered.

“What is that?” Curiosity got the better of him as he asked about the contents of the cup.

“Bubble tea.” As if realising that what they had said was inadequate for answering his question they held up the cup to show him. “It’s strawberry milk tea and Lychee fruit pearls.”

“Fruit pearls?” He suddenly felt ridiculous parroting words and phrases. When he had a Boba himself, he had one the staff recommended. It was milk tea with brown sugar and black tapioca pearls. He drank it nearly choking on the tapioca not expecting it to just shoot up the straw into his mouth as he was drinking. He made up his mind this kind of thing wasn’t for him and never returned.

“It's great actually. I mean I was tempted by a few others but I just really felt like getting something summery.” There was that smile he loved. He looked again with curiosity at the drink in their hand. It was pale pink with clear bubbles below the layer of ice. It did look summery.

“Would you like to try some?” They held it out to him and then turned a faint shade of pink that matched the drink in their hands. “Oh! Don’t worry I haven’t had any of it yet. And I got a spare straw too.” They held up two straws like they were evidence in a trial.

“You came prepared.” He nearly laughed at the gesture.

“Not at all I asked for two cos the paper straws always buckle up before I can finish drinking.” The blush on their cheeks was spreading to their ears. He didn’t dare move. If he were a different man, he might have wished to tease them more to see more of that flustered expression. “Well do you want to try it?” His heart was in disarray, happy to be invited to share in the moment with the one he cared for. He was in the process of nodding when his partner joyfully took one of the straws and punched a hole into the lid of the cup before handing it over. “Here you go.”

He took a sip fully expecting it to be far too sweet and was surprised by the freshness of it. When a couple of the fruit pearls popped up into his mouth, he was ready for them but once more was surprised by how easy they vanished after popping them against his teeth. The lychee juice mixed with the strawberry milk tea creating a wonderful combination that gave him a comforting feeling.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” They were waiting for his feedback with bated breath.

“It’s not unpleasant. It’s rather nice.” He took another small sip.

“I know right? I like getting them from time to time but they can be bad for you if you drink too many. Kiki was addicted to them at one point and complained when she gained too much weight.” They were talking happily but stopped after realising he had fallen silent. It wasn’t their fault at all. His mind had decided now was the time to remind him of the happy couples sharing food and drink and stopped processing everything that his partner was talking about. “Oops sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all. Thank you for letting me try something new.” He handed the drink back to them the flavours still mixing on his tongue.

“Anytime!” They punched another hole in the cup with their straw and took such a long drag on it that at least half an inch of the drink vanished in an instant. “Ah, that’s the stuff!”

They looked happy and relaxed. Falling into a comfortable silence they remained on the bench as the tea was drunk.

“Do you want the last bit?” The cup was held beneath his nose at the question. He shook his head happy enough that it was bringing satisfaction to the one at his side. They finished the drink and then dropped it into the recycling. “Alright then shall we—Ow!”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He panicked when he heard their cry. Their hands were on their face rubbing at their eyes.

“Sorry I think something just went in my eye. I don’t think it was a bug… bit of dust maybe?” They stood there, fingers curled over into fists rolling them against their eyes like a cat grooming. He reached out and held their wrists preventing them from rubbing more.

“Don’t rub you can do more damage than you think. Let me take a look for you.”

He tilted their face up so he could get a better look at their eye. Taking out his handkerchief he ran it under some water from a drinking fountain and used it to pat around their closed eyelids removing any further danger.

“Can you open your eyes for me and lookup? I want to check inside them.”

Following his direction, they did as they were asked. It struck him that this was the closest he had been to them. He could feel their breath on his hand, feel their warmth on his palm. Forcing himself to remain focused on the task at hand he diligently looked for signs of dust in their eyes finding instead only deep pools he could easily lose himself in. The silence between them dragged on like a spell as he found himself counting their eyelashes and lost in the light caught on their wet lips.

“Can you see anything?” Their question broke his spell making him internally chastise himself for his momentary weakness. 

“Not really you might have knocked it out. Close your eyes again.” As soon as they closed this time, he was more aware of the soft expression on their face. They were so relaxed and trusting.

He blew softly on their eyelids just in case something might be there he missed. He felt them flinch but they didn’t pull away and they didn’t complain. He felt a pain in his chest imagining that they could act this way with others and a protective surge of jealousy rose in him. He wanted to wrap them up in his arms and prevent others from getting this close. It was a childish selfish thought he shut down quickly. They were not his and he had no right to act in such away. He stepped back reluctantly and watched his partner's eyes flutter open again.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you, Ar- Mr Wing.” The way they caught themselves keeping things formal between them was as familiar as it was a little disappointing. At work, in front of clients and colleagues, he could accept that but there was a desire to forget formality when they were alone. He might be a senior attorney, their superior and partner but he was also a man not too dissimilar in age to them. The formality made the gap between them feel like a vast chasm.  

“Shall we head back now?”

Walking again he naturally matched his stride to theirs. It was like his body was subconsciously trying to bridge that distance between them. They spoke of little things along the way but nothing of significance.

All the time his mind went back to them standing there his hand on their cheek with their eyes closed as if waiting for a kiss. The flavour of strawberry and lychee was still lingering in his mouth and he imagined if he had kissed them how that flavour might have intensified.

To think he would be thrown so completely off his game by something so innocent as helping with a speck of dust. Naiveite is bliss as they say, but only to the ones that remain unaware. To the enlightened, it was a very cruel sort of punishment.

---

[thetypedwriter]

Midnight Sun Book Review

Midnight Sun Book Review by Stephenie Meyer 

Oh my god, you guys. 

Just. Oh. My. God. 

This book took ten years off of my life. 

As a heavy reminder, these book reviews are entirely subjective and my very personal opinion. I don’t need the hoards of Twihards coming after me with pitchforks and pretend fangs from Party City because I didn’t fall head-over-heels with this canon spinoff like my fourteen-year-old self would have. 

With that measly disclaimer out of the way, let’s move onto the actual book review. If you haven’t heard of Midnight Sun or don’t know what it is, then I don’t know what to tell you except that you avoided 600 plus pages of stream of conscious ranting. 

For those of you that would like to be enlightened, Midnight Sun is the retelling of the infamous Twilight book-yes, that Twilight, Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen Twilight, complete with vampires, not so-stellar acting, and the more than notorious forest scene of Edward demanding she say… “vampire!” Gasp. 

But no really, like most women in my now mid-20’s, as a teenager, I was obsessed with the Twilight saga and everything it had to offer, especially the dreamy, chivalrous, too good to be true Edward Cullen (fuck Jacob). 

I voraciously devoured the books while I was in middle school, attended the midnight book premier for Breaking Dawn, and stayed up way too late for each and every movie screening that followed, a loyal fan to the end. To give you some perspective, I even joined the Twilight club my freshman year of high school. 

Yes, if you were wondering, I was indeed that cool. 

I was obsessed and in love and outside of Harry Potter, it’s still one of the few book fandoms and series that I was truly enveloped and consumed by. Whether that was due to my age, the experience of the fandom, the cultural phenomena that was following the movies and new releases, or for other reasons, it was an experience I look back on now with simultaneous fondness and slight embarrassment. 

I wasn’t embarrassed by my involvement or my experience in the fandom, like many other people, I made great friends through Twilight (including my best friend, whom I met in college when we mutually bonded over our love of Twilight), read countless fanfiction that, to this day, I still remember and cherish with my heart, and it was one of the series that cemented my love of reading and book culture as a whole for me. 

However, like everyone else, I inevitably grew up, matured, and my reading tastes changed and became more refined. As an avid re-reader of books, I have tried going back to re-read the Twilight saga multiple times... 

...and failed. 

The books had simply lost their magic for me. 

The story seemed dull and nonsensical, Bella had become the epitome of a Mary Sue, the writing was now apparently mediocre, and Breaking Dawn’s lackluster climax angered me to the point of speechlessness (it still does). 

So, I gave up re-reading the series and while I deemed that it was perhaps not as wonderful and life-changing as it had been for 8th grade Melissa, I still appreciated what it had done for me personally and the experiences that I had gained through the books. 

Speaking of 8th grade Melissa, the original Midnight Sun, that being twelve chapters of the original manuscript that had been leaked back in 2008, had been put up on Stephenie Meyer’s website for all to enjoy. 

Like the good, whipped fangirl I was, I devoured all 12 chapters with ease and lamented the loss of never getting more than that snapshot of Edward’s thoughts and musings. 

Now, twelve years later, the full book has been written, published, and released to the delight and downright shock to many age-old Twilight fans that had believed that series to be dead and buried, myself included. 

So, when the book came out this August, I swallowed my trepidation, knowing that my love for the characters was now long gone, but I believed that the sentimentality of 8th grade Melissa’s obsession would long linger, making this a pleasant blast from the past to lift my mood. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case. 

Now, that I’ve told you my whole life story in an effort to explain why I have the feelings I do and to justify that I’m not just being negative for the sake of being negative, this book did not hold up to any of my expectations. 

One, it was so freaking long. 

Holy shit, was this book long. 

As I have said countless times on this blog, I like big books (and I cannot lie). It’s the best feeling in the world when you get into a story and you realize that you have many days ahead of you of being engulfed within this new world that you’ve fallen head-over-heels for. 

It’s the opposite, sinking feeling of dread when you feel like you’ve been reading the book for weeks and are getting nothing out of it. 

Midnight Sun was a lot like that.

It was too long to be good, especially considering the length was not generally driven by plot, but instead driven by Edward thinking of every fucking thing to the nth degree and driving me crazy in the process. 

Homeboy needs to take a chill pill, he overstresses, overthinks, and overanalyzes everything to the point of irritation as a reader. 

Meyer’s editor really needed to step in and say, “Hey, Stephenie...is all of this really necessary?” and then proceed to cut out at least 300 pages of nonsense. 

But that didn’t happen, probably because first and foremost, the book was already going to sell no matter what changes or edits were made, and this seemed like a book more for Stephenie than anyone else. 

It was very much stream of consciousness like I’ve already said, a style of writing defined as a literary style in which a character's thoughts, feelings, and reactions are depicted in a continuous flow uninterrupted by objective description or conventional dialogue. 

It wasn’t on the level of James Joyce’s Ulysses or other notable works, but damn was it close. 

This writing style I found abhorrently repetitive and exceptionally dull. 

Perhaps my fourteen-year-old self would have felt differently and would have sucked up anything about Edward Cullen eagerly considering he was the fictional love of my life. 

Or perhaps this book would have made me go running and screaming in the opposite direction as Edward is...kind of awful?

One positive thing I can say about this book is that it paints Bella Swan in a very rosy light, which was actually very refreshing. One of the most famous criticisms that Meyer’s has received is Bella’s lack of character, development, and attributes. 

Seeing Bella from Edward’s perspective instead of vice-versa actually showed how kind, thoughtful, and selfless she is, all things that I had never really picked up on before. 

I still find her inexcusably dumb sometimes, but much of time during this book, Bella was actually far favorable to Edward or any other character, a blasphemous statement of irony if I had ever heard one. 

The payoff, however, is Edward’s reveal as not chivalrous, not gentlemanly, and not as wonderful as I remember. He’s arrogant, selfish, obsessive, and honestly? Downright creepy. 

The stalking reaches new levels of not okay, often with him trying to justify his less than criminal activities with the notion of her “safety” as the priority, which I found complete bullshit. 

I found Edward domineering, cold, aggravating, and lackluster, statements which would literally have made my old self sob, which I honestly did when Edward left in New Moon. 

I used to be an avid Jacob hater and lover of Edward to the extreme back in the day. Now, I would weep for joy if he left, root for Jacob all the way, and hope that the horrible name of Renesmee never needed to come to fruition in the first place. 

Oh, how the turns have tabled. 

Other than the atrocious length, my other large criticism came in the form of well...the book was naturally boring in my opinion. Meyer tries to create tension and moments of suspense, but...we already know what happens. 

We know the next few years actually. We know they get married, have a baby, and Bella gets turned into a vampire. So all moments of tension and suspense are unceremoniously tossed out the window. 

You might say, typedwriter, that’s unfair! We didn’t read this for the tension and suspenseful plot that we already know! We read this to get new information and insight into the Cullens and Edward especially. What do the Cullens do at home? How do they interact? What does this juicy insider insight look like?

Well, I still don’t know because we hardly saw any of it. 

I was the most curious about the Cullens as a family unit and more information into how they functioned, interacted, and cohabited. I even wrote a fanfiction back in the day about what freaking Esme did home alone because I was so intrigued by the idea, but nope! 

Edward was always stalking Bella 24/7 so almost no new information was gleaned about the Cullens, sucks for you. 

There would be little nuggets here and there, little bouts of cool information (Apparently Esme just stays home all day every day doing….nothing?), but not nearly enough to justify a 600+ page book of a recycled plot that we were already familiar with. 

I needed more from this book, craved all the little moments in between, and it was a letdown to the most extreme proportions. 

Recommendation: I didn’t really enjoy this read despite my past involvement with the series, my lingering fondness for the movies on a cold, rainy day, and the still sporadic delves into Twilight fanfiction that maintains its reputation of quality and characters. 

Twilight will always have a special place in my heart for what it did for me and the people it brought into my life, but I wish I had remembered Midnight Sun as the 12 chapters I read on Stephenie Meyer’s website when I was fourteen and infatuated instead of 26 and uninterested and unforgiving. 

Score: 4/10

#midnight sun #stephenie meyer #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #twihard #book blog #book review #Book Recommendations #YA Books #YA Book Review #edward cullen #bella swan #fanfiction #book blogger #book photography #book analysis #book aesthetic

[fandom-necromancer]

I’m only human

This was prompted by an amazing anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: gun related injury)

‘Gavin! Duck!’ The human let himself fall immediately and only due to Nines advanced preconstruction software he had made it in time. The hail of bullets pierced the wall behind Gavin a second later. Nines had taken cover behind a wall and waited for the immediate fire to subside, then turned around and emptied his magazine, before dropping behind a counter to reload. He heard Gavin shoot his own gun and turned to see what was happening. With shock he noticed that the man was about to leave relative safety to pursue the attackers that had decided to make a run for it. Normally, Nines wouldn’t have worried so much as Gavin was well trained, but they had just been caught whilst investigating the place and the man didn’t wear a bulletproof vest. This was too much of a risk.

Cursing, Nines hurried to reload and stepped out of cover to follow Gavin. He sprinted after the man that had already made it to the next room. It was the large kitchen of the restaurant they were in, but still the door they had entered through had been the only one, so he had the attackers cornered. And they knew it. Maybe it was panic, maybe it was them thinking to have the two detectives outnumbered, but they began shooting at them once again and this time, Nines wasn’t fast enough. He leapt for Gavin to make him fall to the ground next to the middle isle, but Gavin had already been shot twice in his arm. ‘Stay down!’, Nines ordered unforgivingly and took Gavin’s hand to show him how to press on the wound. Then he stepped out, both their guns in hand and made them pay for shooting his partner. As they laid on the ground groaning, Nines decided not to go through the procedures and arrest them all. Not when Gavin needed his help.

‘I called the DPD for backup as soon as we met them, Gavin’, he reassured the man as he knelt down next to him. ‘They will be here soon. I also called an ambulance. You will be fine, trust me.’ ‘Yeah? Because it hurts like a bitch, I can tell you that.’ Nines nodded, taking over pressurizing the wound as he could scan for damage. Gavin had suffered multiple fractions from the gunshots and was in severe pain. That he was awake at all was a miracle. But that also meant he couldn’t move him. Nines had to wait until the paramedics came to them. He already hated waiting under normal conditions, but this was outright torture.

Thankfully it didn’t take too long and when the police stormed the place to find all presumed members of the drug ring neutralized, the paramedics rushed in to treat both Gavin and the persons Nines had shot down. But the RK900 didn’t care what happened to their suspects, he was solely focussing on Gavin, telling the paramedics what he had already diagnosed and watched them closely as they stabilized Gavin’s arm and transported him outside. Nines had to stay at the scene to explain what happened and oversee the transport of their suspects, but more than anything he had wanted to stay with Gavin on the ride to the hospital. At least he was linked to their feed because of a sympathetic android on the team, but that was little comfort when he knew his love was hurt.

At least Connor understood as he offered to take over the case as soon as possible. So, six hours later, when everything was documented and the restaurant had been searched to the last corner, Nines could finally leave to meet his human at the hospital. Gavin had already been discharged when he arrived, the bullets themselves removed, his arm bandaged and in a cast. Nines opened the door for him and helped him sit down. Then he drove them back home. The whole way back, he was entirely silent and ignored the careful glances Gavin threw his way. He just parked their car in front of their house and helped Gavin inside. The man kicked off his shoes and struggled with his leather jacket that was only on his uninjured arm and draped over his shoulder on the other side. Nines took it from him to hang it up and then walked over to the kitchen. His human had lost a lot of blood, he needed energy to produce new cells. Also Nines was angry and if he didn’t do anything else to distract him, he would shout at Gavin and that was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He had furiously grabbed a paprika to cut it, nearly crushing it in his hand. His first cut already had far too much strength in it as the knife got stuck in the cutting board.

‘Nines?’ The voice was careful, and the android closed his eyes, sighing and hoping the anger would subside. He had to keep calm. Gavin didn’t have a preconstruction software. He had to try and hope for the best. And although he knew to rely on Nines in those situations, the heat of the moment could get to his head. This was normal for humans. He hadn’t gotten hurt on purpose. Still, he could have died and then… And then… ‘You are pissed’, Gavin stated. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘What’s wrong?!’, Nines asked, turning around. He had forgotten he still had the knife in hand and distributed the few pieces of vegetable all over the counter. He tried once again to breathe deeply, but it didn’t work as good for androids as it did for humans. ‘Gavin, you could have died. You got hurt because of your stupid stubborn wish to… I was scared, Gavin. I’m scared still. I could have lost you. Had I not been there in time…’

Gavin stepped closer to him and loosened his grip on the knife, instead taking his hand in his free one. ‘But it worked out. I’m here. You were there in time.’ ‘And what about next time?’, Nines asked, looking into Gavin’s eyes. ‘You can’t promise me this is how it ends every time you run to do something risky.’ ‘No, I can’t’, Gavin nodded and smiled at him. ‘But what should I do? I can’t change who I am. Can’t change what instinct dictates when it takes over. If I could preconstruct every eventuality like you, love, then I could. But I’m only human.’ He let go of Nines’ hand to reach up and cup his cheek instead and smiled when the android closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. ‘You could quit’, he whispered quietly. ‘You could stop being a Detective. I could work for both of us. I’m mostly bulletproof.’

Gavin actually laughed. ‘Me? Quit being a detective? Nines, that’s out of the question. Why should I do that?’ ‘To stay safe? To keep living? To be with me longer?’ The android had opened his eyes now and looked directly at Gavin. The man swallowed at seeing the raw emotion in them. The android had really been scared to shits when he had been shot, hadn’t he? And he still worried for him and hoped to convince him. Unfortunately, that really was impossible. ‘Nines, I can’t. I can’t just… No, I can’t quit my job!’ ‘I will already lose you!’, the RK900 spoke up louder this time with more vigour. ‘I know the day will come that I will lose you. But I want it to be in many years when you are old, and your body just can’t keep up renewing your tissues. I want it to be in peace after a long life lived together. I don’t want it to be now, not today, not tomorrow, not even in ten years. Can’t you understand that?’

‘I understand’, Gavin sighed and took a step back, trying to look as collected as possible. ‘I understand that this is what you want. Hell, I want the same thing. But I also want to keep doing what I do. What is a long life worth if you haven’t lived a day of it, huh? I like being a cop. Hell, it isn’t a job with good reputation and one half of the population hates you and the other half pretends not to. But phck it, I feel like I do something. Like I move something and do something good. I’m proud of being a Detective. I worked hard to get where I am and I won’t just drop it because you say so, no matter how logical the reasons might be. No matter how right you are, okay? This is my life.’

Nines blinked at him twice, then looked to the floor, all strength gone from his pseudo-muscles. ‘But it’s dangerous. You will get hurt again. I don’t want to see you in pain. I don’t want to lose you.’ Gavin cursed and stepped closer to pull Nines in a half hug, keeping his injured arm and shoulder out of it. ‘But you will be by my side whatever happens. You have my back; you will always be there to warn me.’ ‘I can’t be always there.’ Gavin sighed. ‘Okay, then how about this: You are in pain right now. Do you think I want to see you like this? All worried and close to tears? No. I learned my lesson today. Nines, I will try my best. I promise. That’s all we humans can do. I will try to be more careful and listen to you. And not always run after the next criminal just because maybe I get one more to arrest. I will try to be better. But I won’t quit my job. Okay? A compromise?’ Nines pressed himself closer against Gavin.

‘Okay’, he caved in then. ‘But promise me one thing: If you try your best and it doesn’t work and you get injured on the job yet again, you quit. Without wriggling out of the deal again. That’s the only way I’ll accept your compromise.’ Gavin nodded against the android’s shoulder. ‘Okay. You can record this to have proof: I, Detective Gavin Reed, promise that if I ever get hurt on the job again, I will quit my job the very next day.’ ‘Recording saved’, Nines stated and smiled at his human. ‘Wait, you actually-‘ ‘Yes. And now sit down on the couch, I will clean up the mess I’ve made and cook you something. At least now we get to spend some more time together.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #The first day Gavin is back on the job he cuts his thumb on a piece of paper and Nines savagely plays his recording #checkmate Gavin you are becoming a stay at home dad #okay that's kinda crack but hey it could lighten the mood

[starlightinhumanform]

On Your Parade

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Moxiety 

Summary: Patton was ecstatic when his best friend excepted an invitation to go out on a date with him. Nothing could bring him down- not even his roommate running off for the weekend with his car. But when he nearly loses Virgil, reality throws things back into perspective.

Warnings (in order of strength): Description of Car Accident/Wreckage, Mild Injury, No one dies but there is some discussion of death. Please tell me if there’s anything I need to add.  Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Human (College) AU

 A/N: Writing this was like trying to move into someone’s apartment while they broke up with me. I kept showing up with my little cardboard box of plot and this story would just frown and tell me things weren’t working out between us. Patton’s characterization is something I struggle with a lot and one of reasons I wanted to write this was to challenge myself (I hope I got it right!!). That being said... I’m very proud to have finished it and I hope you all enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link    Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Patton smoothed the creases out of his shirt for the thousandth time, gripping the hem at the bottom. He tried not to glance out the window again, but his eyes kept drifting that way.

Outside, the dusty asphalt that ran in front of his apartment building was darkening as a light drizzle began falling. But the street remained empty. A car drove past; and kept driving until Patton couldn’t see it anymore.

He couldn’t decide if the buzz jumping around inside of him was excitement or anxiety. Maybe it was both. He just needed to find something to do, something to distract him. There was no reason for him to be this amped up. He needed to calm down, act normal, be cool-

And he was staring out the window again. The street was still empty. Still no Virgil.

Maybe it made sense for Patton to be so jumpy. After all, this was their first date. But they had known each other for years. They had met in their first class of their freshmen year. Two mutually lost children amongst a hoard of what appeared to be competent adults, they had clung to each other- and hadn’t let go since. Patton had lost count of the coffee shop study sessions, late-night Denny’s raids, and art gallery visits they had taken together. To anybody else, they had dating for the past three years.

But no, because it had taken Patton a year to realize why he blushed when Virgil waved at him across the street or why he was filled with so much pride when he was able to make Virgil laugh, or why getting a text from him was somehow better than getting an email saying class was cancelled. Then it had taken him another two years to get the courage to say anything.

Patton wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted Virgil to be dazzled, but most importantly, he wanted Virgil to have a good time. There was nothing Patton liked more than to see that smile break across Virgil’s face like a California sun after a week of rain.

Unfortunately, things were already off to a not-so-perfect start. The weather had been gloomy for the past week and didn’t show any sign of clearing up. It didn’t help that Patton’s housemate had randomly decided that she needed to take a road trip in their shared car. (Patton had never regretted anything more than his decision to share a car. The split payment was hardly worth the prevailing smell of sage and vegan pizza in his only vehicle). That meant Virgil had to pick up Patton- on the date that Patton was taking him out on.

Ugh. The whole thing was messy and somewhat awkward and not at all what Patton had pictured. But Virgil had been happy to go along with the whole thing, adorably bouncing on the balls of his feet. Patton was still in shock that Virgil had even said yes. He definitely hadn’t wrapped his head around how happy Virgil had seemed, excited even about picking Patton up.

Patton flopped backwards onto his bed and squeezed the nearest pillow to his chest. Thinking about Virgil- about his crooked grin, the way his eyes looked nearly violet in sunlight, the way he was always trying to introduce Patton to obscure bands, how his laugh seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest and bubble up so that when he laughed it was like he was laughing with his whole being, just everything about him- made warmth well up inside of Patton. It was bright and it made his chest feel tight and the only thing he could do was grin and kick the back of his heels against his mattress. Patton was notorious for crying over anything remotely cute and he was supposed to keep his composure around Virgil? Ridiculous.

Patton lay there for a minute- or two or three, smiling so hard his face hurt. So maybe he was an actual adult who did adult things like pay bills and do laundry and buy vegetables; he still got flustered as easily as one of the blushing dames from the old movies Virgil liked to critique.

Patton checked his phone for the time. Virgil had agreed to be at his house at 5:00; it was 4:57. That gave Patton exactly three minutes to get himself together. It probably wasn’t going to happen but he had to give it a try. He was so scared to come off too strong and scare Virgil away. After all, Virgil didn’t even know Patton liked him that way until a week ago.

He sat up and took a deep breath. Two minutes. Just be normal- he’d been holding that act for years, he could keep it up for just a little while longer.

A minute ticked by, and then another, and then five or ten more and then roughly an entire geological eon on top of that. Patton found himself flat on his stomach on his bed, staring at his phone like if he really focused on the screen in front of him, he could ignore the worry that was quickly growing in his chest.

Another car rumbled by his window and Patton jumped up. Still no sign of Virgil and it was 5:15- far later than Patton had ever seen Virgil arrive to something they had agreed upon. Virgil had a reputation for showing up to things exceptionally early (he had gained infamy amongst professors for being the only student who had ever shown up to an eight a.m. class twenty minutes before it began) and Patton couldn’t clamp down on the doubt that was rising up inside of him.

Virgil didn’t forget things. He would worry and procrastinate and claim he forgot things- but it wasn’t something that actually happened. If Virgil was late, that meant he didn’t want to be there. Patton abandoned staring at his phone and began picking at the edges of his cuticles. It was something Virgil always got on his case about, but Virgil wasn’t there at the moment to say anything. What if he didn’t actually want to go out with Patton? What if he hadn’t actually been that happy and Patton had just imagined it all? What if he had just said yes to be nice? What if this had all been a mistake and their friendship would never be the same again?

Patton glanced back down at his phone. He wished he could call Virgil; he wanted to hear his voice, he wanted to say I’m so so sorry for messing up everything we had and I want to take it all back. I would eat all my words if it meant we could just be friends again. But no. Because Virgil hated talking on the phone. Because it would only make things worse. Because it was too late and he couldn’t possibly fix everything now.

Hey, he did say yes, though. And Virgil rarely lies. The immortally optimistic portion of Patton’s thoughts tried to show him a glimmer of hope. For once, it held some logic. Patton had rarely seen Virgil lie- the stress of keeping a story running and his worries of people finding out usually outweighed what he could gain from lying. Anyways, he wouldn’t lie about something this big. Would he?

Patton’s eyes had glazed over, far too focused on all of the thoughts swarming through his head to actually be able to see anything around him. His attention was brought snapping back to reality as his phone buzzed to life, flashing Virgil’s name.

He fumbled to answer quickly, hoping his voice didn’t sound squeaky as it scrambled out of his mouth like an overly-excited puppy, “Hey!”

“Can you come pick me up?” Virgil’s voice was rough and forced; he pushed the words out so quickly Patton could barely understand what he was saying.

“Wait, what? What’s going on? I don’t have a car remember-“

“There was an accident.”

The world dissolved into white noise. Patton couldn’t see anything, all of his senses cut off. His blood was rushing in his ears but he could feel it pounding all the way to his fingertips. He couldn’t remember how to breathe; he could only focus on the heavy rasps coming from Virgil across the speaker.

Suddenly time rushed back into place and all of Patton’s fear with it, “What happened? Are you ok? Did anyone get hurt? Who did it?”

“I- I just, I don’t- I think-“ Virgil stuttered out his words, breathless.

A sick heaviness settled into the pit of Patton’s stomach. He shouldn’t be the one freaking out right now, he couldn’t be- Virgil needed him.

Patton sighed, cutting off Virgil who still hadn’t managed to complete a sentence. He tried to keep his voice as low and level as he could despite the urge he was getting to run out of the house and find Virgil as fast as he could, “No, no. I’m sorry. It’ll be ok. I just need to know where you are and I’ll come get you.”

“It was- no, wait. Except then-“

“Virge. Street names. That’s all I need. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“Right. Sorry. Uh-,” For a second Patton couldn’t hear anything from the speakers except muffled footsteps, “Garnet. Garnet Street. And Maple.”

Patton just blinked for a moment, “But that’s just a few streets down from me. I’ll be there in just a second. Just- hang in there, ok?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. By the time it had probably taken Virgil to realize he had hung up, Patton was already pounding down the stairs. He ran out the door without a second thought, dismal weather forgotten as he sprinted off the porch and down the street.

Raindrops splattered against his bare arms and his breath steamed as it collided with the cool air around him. He didn’t notice and he didn’t care. His mind was completely occupied as he tried to remember how the local roads were stitched together. Under normal circumstances, he knew them as well as the veins that wove through his hand (probably better because while he did spend a good amount of time walking around, it had been quite a while seen he had memorized the back of his hand).

He heard the wreckage before he saw it. Or rather, the lack of sound. There were no birds, no crows cawing their dislike of the rain. Just the heavy silence of fog and the tick of cooling metal.

Patton slowed to a walk. He didn’t want to turn the corner. He was so scared of what he would find. His ears strained to pick up Virgil’s voice, but he couldn’t hear him at all. Patton knew Virgil was alive- he knew, he had just been on the phone with him- but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to be horribly wrong. The thought of Virgil being hurt pushed him back into a sprint.

The scene was a mess. The twisted hood of Virgil’s car lay at the top of the street, a good hundred feet from the actual vehicle. The front was crushed like an aluminum can someone had decided to step on. Patton couldn’t tell if the clouds rising from it were smoke or steam or maybe a combination of both.

Patton didn’t know he could run so quickly- one moment he was somewhere by the top of the street and the next he was in the middle of the wreckage, flying past patches of broken glass and twisted metal that reached towards the sky like demented sunflowers. Patton couldn’t stop if he wanted to.

Virgil was hunched over on the curb; his knees tucked to his chest, his head hung, and his hands clasped over his bent neck. Patton couldn’t see his eyes but he could bet they were squeezed shut, just trying to block out the world around him.

Patton was a very careful person. All of his usual gentle hesitation was thrown out the window. He could hear the glass crunching beneath his feet, but he felt nothing of the shards digging into his shoe soles. The fumes of the wreckage fell heavily into his lung but he didn’t notice the burn it left with every inhale.

As Patton’s feet pounded closer, Virgil curled deeper into his knees. His head sunk down until his face was completely hidden. He clamped his hands over his neck like he was try to wait out an earthquake. Pure terror shrouded Virgil and it made Patton’s insides boil.

Patton sat down and rubbed his hand over Virgil’s back; he could feel how tense his entire body was beneath his hoodie. He hated the way Virgil flinched under his touch, “Virgil, it’s me, it’s Patton. Can I give you a hug?”

Virgil didn’t answer with words, instead just barreling into Patton’s side. He wrapped his arm’s around Patton’s waist in a vice-grip and buried his head in Patton’s chest. Patton could feel Virgil’s chest brushing steadily against his own and only then realized how out of breath he was.

Patton wrapped his arms around Virgil’s shoulders and squeezed as tight as he could without risking some sort of collateral damage. It was grounding- feeling Virgil in his grasp, the tiny movements he made pressed against his chest, his hands gripping at the material of Patton’s shirt. It made everything feel real again; it was like the entire world had lost gravity but holding onto Virgil, Patton could at least get his feet on the ground.

The ringing faded from his ears, leaving nothing but the persistent sounds of rain to take its place. The street was dead and only the clouds could gaze down on their huddled forms. Virgil was shaking against his side but Patton couldn’t tell if he was crying or shivering.

He sat without saying anything for a few moments, clinging to Virgil just as tight as Virgil squeezed around him. He didn’t want to let go, still just trying to convince himself that Virgil was there, that he was ok.

An eerie calm fell over the scene. The lack of cars driving past made it seems like the entire world had paused around them. The rain fell in a consistent drizzle- it wasn’t even drops, simply a blanket that coated everything in a gloomy haze. It could have been five in the morning or three in the afternoon or even a completely different planet and Patton wouldn’t have been able to tell.

Virgil shifted against him, “Hey.”

Patton looked down, ready to respond but froze when he saw Virgil’s face. A cut arched over his left eyebrow, a streak of blood running all the way down to the dark shadow beneath his eyes, “Virgil, oh my god?! Are you ok? How did that happen?”

Virgil shrugged and broke away from Patton’s stare, “I got into a car accident. Shit like that happens. I probably hit my head on the wheel or something.”

“Yeah but are you ok?” If Virgil was going to be overly casual, then Patton would just have to substitute as his self preservation instincts.

“I’m fine, really. It looks worse than it actually is.”

Patton pursed his lips. It was obvious Virgil didn’t really want to talk about it, “Well, ok... are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I think I got kinda bruised on my chest from the seatbelt but it’ll be fine. It could have been a lot worse.”

Virgil’s hollow voice sent chills down Patton’s spine. His words made him tighten his grip around Virgil again as he was reminded just how lucky he was to be able to hold him at all.

Patton was still trying to get his feet on the ground but he realized with a start that Virgil was miles away. Virgil could have died. No wonder he sounded hollow, his mind was probably trying to run away from the memory of what had happened as fast as he possibly could.

Patton began rubbing his hand rhythmically across Virgil’s shoulders. Despite the chaos around them, that at least felt somewhat familiar. Virgil said Patton could help him calm down better than anyone else- something about how he drew his attention from all the thoughts in his head back to his physical form. Patton prayed he could help in the only way he knew how to.

Virgil stared out across the wreckage. His eyes were glassy and filled with clouds to rival the gray hanging in the sky.

“They ran the stop sign,” His voice reached down from somewhere in the storm.

“T-boned my car. Their front bumper hit my passenger side,” He was a thousand miles away.

Patton brushed his hand up and down along the vertical stripes of Virgil’s plaid sweatshirt, trying to follow the beats of his breathing.

“Then they just kept driving,” A hundred miles, “I don’t get how really- their car couldn’t have been much better off than mine.”

Patton just wished he could do more. He didn’t know what to do and all he did know was that it wasn’t enough. He wanted to reverse all of time just to stop Virgil from getting hurt.

“It was crazy. I don’t even know how to explain it. It was like being on a roller coaster, except there’s no tracks and you have no idea where it’s going or when it’s going to stop or if it’s ever actually going to stop,” Ten miles- tops. His voice was quickly deteriorating, weakening with every foot he fell closer to the surface of the planet.

Patton could feel Virgil shaking in his arms. He felt so small and Patton wished he could protect him from every ugly, horrible thing in this stupid world. Virgil didn’t deserve this.

Virgil hit the surface of the planet with a shudder, chocking on his words as they tumbled out of his mouth, “I just- I kept thinking- and about- but I couldn’t do- I just wanted and-“

Virgil froze suddenly, the silence shocking after his stream of broken words. Patton wasn’t sure if it was better or worse until Virgil slumped forward, sobs wracking his body. It was quiet except for the hiccuping gasps the escaped Virgil and Patton could say decisively that this was so much worse than any incoherent ramble.

Patton ran his hand through Virgil’s hair, keeping the other arm tucked snugly around Virgil’s side. He winced as his fingers hit the sticky dampness in his bangs that could only be blood. He kept shushing him gently, but he wasn’t actually sure who he was telling to be quiet. It wasn’t that he wanted Virgil to be quiet; he just wanted the rest of the world to stop for a moment.

They sat there for what could have been anywhere between a minute and a week, seconds drawn out between Virgil’s stuttering breaths.

Virgil shifted suddenly, raising his head and turning his knees to face Patton. His eyes were red and still filled with tears. His face was flushed but the cut still stood out; it burned a dark burgundy as the blood dried and a bruise bloomed out around it. It was nearly painful to look at. It felt like Patton’s heart was being squeezed in a giant fist and no matter what he did, he couldn’t escape that suffocating pressure. He was still so angry- angrier than he had felt in years and to the point it was almost surprising.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil’s voice was small and cracked between the words.

Patton could feel his eyebrows scrunching together, “Why would you have a single thing to be sorry for?”

Virgil hung his head, arms balanced on his knees so Patton couldn’t quite see his face, “I don’t know... this was supposed to be our first date and I ruined it.”

Patton wasn’t sure how to respond. He could feel his heart shattering at Virgil’s words, glass shards cutting through his chest. A tiny incredulous laugh crawled its way up Patton’s throat. Or maybe it had fallen from his dizzy head. Either way, it landed in his mouth, mixing bitterly with the coppery taste of adrenaline.

He shook his head, “No, Virge. Please don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. Besides, I’m just glad that you’re ok.”

“But-“

“But nothing. I’m happy just to be able to hold you,” Patton tried to convey his sincerity, pushing his gratefulness into every word and hoping Virgil would hear it.

Virgil scooted closer and leaned his head against Patton’s chest. Patton tucked his chin over Virgil’s head, happy to feel Virgil’s breathing steadying out into its regular pattern. The gasps were replaced with only the occasional sniffle.

“So, where were you going to take me?”

“What?”

“Where were you going to take me?” Virgil repeated the question, “You know, for our date?”

Patton’s lips twitched up into a smile, “That’s a surprise.”

Virgil gave a huff of a laugh, “It’s not exactly like we’re going to go now.”

Patton rolled the question around in his head, “Yeah, but we could try again sometime; First Date, Take Two. I mean, if that’s something you would like to do.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to do that?” Virgil sounded genuinely confused.

“It’s just that... I thought that maybe,” Patton sighed, “Maybe you didn’t actually want to go out with me and that I had kinda ruined our friendship.”

Virgil moved so he could face Patton directly, “You really thought I didn’t mean it when I said yes?”

Patton tried not squirm but the usual butterflies in his stomach had transformed into snakes, “It’s not that I didn’t believe you, I just wondered-“

Virgil interrupted with a laugh but Patton couldn’t figure out what was so funny. His eyes narrowed as they studied Patton’s face, trying to find something but what exactly, Patton had no clue.

“God, you big dummy,” Virgil chuckled again and Patton felt something in his chest crumble. He didn’t want to hear the next words, he just wanted to implode in on himself and never face the world again, “I love you. I have for years. I know this might be kind of weird to say, seeing as we haven’t even had our first date but I’ve known you for what feels like forever and you’re my best friend and when you said you liked me as more of a friend I was so surprised but-“

“You love me?” Patton cut off Virgil’s ramble. Those were not the words he had been expecting.

Virgil wrung his hands in his lap, “Yeah. Is that ok?”

“Virgil, honey, I-“ Patton tried to stutter out all of the things he was feeling but it just wasn’t possible. He took a deep breath, letting his body relax for the first time in he-didn’t-know-how-long. He let himself simply dissolve into the warmth that was taking over all of his systems, “I love you too.”

Patton wasn’t really sure what happened next. He was leaning forward and Virgil was leaning forward and suddenly their lips were pressed together. His eyes fluttered close as he melted further towards Virgil. It was gentle and warm despite the drizzle that continued to coat them. Patton could feel Virgil’s eyelashes brush against his cheek; they were damp and nearly as soft his mouth.

Virgil pulled away, “Uh, was that ok too?”

“I think that was a little more than ok,” Patton hoped his voice wasn’t as weak as it sounded to his own ears.

Virgil let his head fall back against Patton’s chest which- from the inside- felt like a furnace left on too long, “Ow!”

Patton immediately jumped at Virgil’s expression of pain, “What’s wrong?”

“I hit my cut on your chest. It’s fine.”

As much as Patton wished he could stay in that moment, he knew it couldn’t last forever, “We should get you to the hospital; you might be worse off than you think.

Virgil whined as Patton stood up but accepted the hand up. His legs shook as he tried to put weight on them. It took him a moment to gain his balance, placing a bit more of his weight on Patton than was probably necessary as he leaned his shoulder, “How are we going to get there?”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Uh, Patton?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have a car, remember?”

“Oh.”

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[blancheludis]

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Bucky Barnes / Tony Stark Tags: Love, Friendship, Pure Fluff, Engagement Words: 3.065

Summary: When Tony picked up Bucky from the streets for a quick tryst, he did not think he would find the love of his life. Thankfully, Bucky is more than ready to deal with any doubts Tony has from time to time. (They are not quite as good at telling Steve that Tony is not paying him for sex. Not anymore, at least.) 

---

“And then Hammer had the gall to act like we were going to work on that together. Like, can you imagine?” Tony twists his torso around to look at Bucky, who has his arms crossed behind his head as he lies in bed, watching Tony with a private smile and not enough outrage. “As if I’d ever ruin my good reputation by even looking at the same project as Justin bloody Hammer.”

“You done yet?” Bucky asks, his voice a low rumble the way it sometimes gets at night.

He looks gorgeous, he always does. The blanket pools around his waist, leaving his upper body bare for Tony to drink in. The hard muscles lining his abdomen, the strands of hair sticking to his glistening neck, still sweaty from their former activities. Even the thick line of scars around Bucky’s shoulders that it took months for Tony to be allowed to touch.

Sometimes, Tony fights with feeling inadequate compared to Bucky, but by now he knows to voice these thoughts when they get too loud so that Bucky can show him how very much he thinks that is not true. They have a working system, at the very least, silencing both their demons.

It might be a crime to talk about Justin Hammer while he is in bed with Bucky, but Tony has needed to bitch about his supposed business rival all day and now is finally the time. Bucky knows how to shut him up when it becomes too much.

“I’m paying for your time so I can choose how to spend it,” Tony scoffs with a half-wink, and turns around to fully face Bucky again.

The hotel room has less than adequate lighting, leaving them mostly in shadows, but he sees the amused glint in Bucky’s eyes.

Mostly, he is just glad Bucky is here at all. They said their handsy goodbyes four days earlier when Tony left for the tech convention, but today Bucky was waiting for him in bed when he stumbled back into his room, exhausted from making nice with business rivals all day long.

“I just thought we could do something more satisfying than talking about than scumbag.” Bucky’s lips curl into something that is mostly a smile but tinged with disgust. There is a reason Tony did not smuggle Bucky into the convention. It would have certainly been more entertaining, but Tony could do without the bill for extended damages.

Tony tugs at the blanket, looking at Bucky through his eyelashes. “I’m not sure I should take life advice from a prostitute who chose to call himself Bucky.”

He laughs when Bucky presses his lips together and sits up. “Still my name. Still not a prostitute, doll.”

Tony watches Bucky’s muscles, transfixed enough that he falls into the banter without thinking about his words. The sight is heavenly, so no one can blame him. “And yet you keep taking my money.”

If he had his wallet nearby, he would be tempted to shower Bucky in dollar bills right now. He does not wear enough to stick them somewhere, of course. Perhaps it is time for some new jewellery. Or gold lining for the prosthetic arm. Not that Bucky really needs any enhancement.

“What did that terrible reporter call me?” Bucky asks, amused more than irritated at the press showing up at the most inopportune times. “Your kept man?”

Tony winces but hides it by running a hand through his hair. One of these days, Bucky will grow tired of all the complications coming with Tony. “It was boy toy,” he says, keeping his tone light and adding a suggestive grin. “And that’s easier to write than fiancé.”

It is still a miracle from Tony’s point of view, that he not only stumbled over Bucky and managed to take him home but that they are still together a year later, taking giant leaps towards promising each other forever. Pepper did not believe him and Happy ran a dozen background checks and Tony still expects to wake up one morning and find Bucky gone. This must be a dream. Or one of these truly good things that always, without fail, end too soon.

Bucky hums as he takes his time to look Tony up and down, smiling at what he finds even if it makes Tony rather self-conscious. “You know, my rates go up when I’m with a married man.”

“What?” Tony shakes his head in mock-outrage to hide the way he shivers at hearing Bucky say married. “The penthouse in the middle of Manhattan is not enough?”

They spend most of their time there already, but then it will finally be theirs.

Tapping his hand on the blanket, Bucky looks like he is thinking hard. “I want your weekends,” he then says, sounding snotty like one of the wanna-be business men Tony left downstairs. “Completely. No work, just us.”

And is that not the dream? Waking up next to Bucky, perhaps never even getting out of bed. Eating their meals together, working quietly, just content to be in each other’s company. Tony spent so much time alone, he never figured he would like a simple life like that instead of new conquests every other night. Perhaps he is getting old. Or he was a fool for thinking that he was immune to love when it finally came around.

“You’ll have to clear that with Pepper,” Tony offers instead of saying yes, please.

And Bucky, the smug bastard, simply smiles. “Pepper and I already have a deal. JARVIS and I too. Only you need to get with the program.”

Tony sniffs in mock-annoyance. “Why is it that everybody in my life loves conspiring against me?”

“Because we love you,” Bucky replies without missing a beat, making Tony’s heart swell. “And because you don’t know how to take care of yourself. And now come back to bed.”

Such a little, enormous thing. Love. Tony is done hiding from it.

Yet, he crosses his arms in front of him, trying to emphasize the muscles in his arms. He might not be built like Bucky, but he is not to be dismissed either.

“I am in bed,” he says and does not move.

The bed is too small for that game, really, a far cry from Tony’s king-sized one in the tower. They would only have to reach out their hands to touch, without putting a strain on themselves.

Bucky clicks his tongue. “You’re not in my arms because you needed to yell about Hammer.”

Because Hammer is a dick who insists on following Tony around as if they are actually friends. No matter how direct Tony is getting, Hammer just does not understand a no. Still, Bucky has a point. Hammer has no right to come between them.

“When you say it like that, it does sound like a crime,” Tony says and pushes himself on his knees to lean forward. He does not yet cross the distance completely but Bucky’s hand is there all the same, carding through Tony’s hair in the sweetest of caresses.

“Capital,” he murmurs, voice dripping low again, which makes need stir in Tony’s stomach.

“I’ll reimburse you,” Tony says, leaning into Bucky’s touch. With a small grin, he adds, “I was thinking four hundred bucks?”

A laugh bursts over Bucky’s lips, making him look more delectable than ever. “Stevie will have a heart attack. I’m in.”

Tony can just imagine how Bucky, who is proficient in being a little shit, has been putting crisp hundred-dollar bills into his and Steve’s shared and very battered household cash box. It was nothing but a joke in the beginning because Tony, drunk and lonely, had thought Bucky to be a prostitute one night outside of a club. He had offered a horrendous amount of money if Bucky would come with him, and Bucky, who had been fairly into his cups, too, and tired of Steve pushing him into “having some fun again” agreed. After that, they just kept meeting and sex turned into talking and becoming friends and then something more. One of the luckier mistakes Tony has made while drunk.

“As long as he doesn’t kill me when he finds out the truth.” Tony shrugs. He knows all of Bucky’s friends by now and, surprisingly, gets along with all of them. Some of them might at least be upset if Steve made a move to get rid of him.

Bucky runs his thumb over Tony’s lips. His intense gaze does not match his light tone. “He changes between being horrified and amused that you would dish out your money so easily.”

Steve does know. Or at least he strongly suspects. He gave them both the shovel talk, even if no one called it that, and he would not bother with that if he thought Tony to be nothing more than Bucky’s sugar daddy, or whatever the kids call staged relationships between rich people and their arm candies these days. They have just never explicitly talked about it.

Tony suspects that Steve does not like him very much. That he disapproves of Tony’s fast-paced life and his tendency to spend money without a care. Bucky has repeatedly told him that’s nonsense. Apparently, Steve is glad someone managed to make him enjoy life again – after the military and the whole thing about losing an arm.

In the end, it is easier to send Bucky home with some cash every time, which Bucky can then, sneakily, use to pay Rogers’ bills. Tony is getting some pretty fine artwork out of it, and never-ending reasons to laugh with Bucky, so it is a win-win situation, really.

“You’re worth every penny,” Tony says, as if he has ever cared about money. He also regularly finds neatly folded stacks of dollar bills in his pockets and, one time, his shoes, that he has definitely not put there himself.

“I know.” Bucky grins and then holds out his hand to beckon Tony closer. “Now, come back here. Your hour’s not yet over.”

 ---

Later, thoroughly exhausted and aching in all the right places, they lie in the darkness of the hotel room, Tony cradled in Bucky’s strong arms. It is his favourite place in the world, hidden away from searching eyes and utterly safe.

Tony sometimes wishes Jarvis were alive to see him like this, happy and in a committed relationship. Howard, too, after he spent Tony’s entire childhood reciting his flaws and how he would never amount to anything. Perhaps this is his greatest achievement. Not Stark Industries’ miraculous turn away from producing weaponry. Not the countless patents under his name. Not even his continued friendship with Pepper and Rhodey. But this. Being in love. Being loved in return.

He is running careful circles over Bucky’s skin, wandering from his arm to his back and up his chest. When Bucky sighs, he feels the slight tremor more than he hears an actual sound.

“Do we have to tell the rest of the world?” Bucky asks into the darkness. “Can’t things just stay like this?”

Tony stills, forgets to breathe for a long second. He has a good poker face, but that does not help him while he is naked in another person’s arms.

“They can,” he says belatedly, even when Bucky’s arms have already stiffened around him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a coward,” Bucky hurries to say.

The mood is already ruined, though. The sweet post-coital glow replaced by the harsh coldness of reality crashing back in.

“You’re everything but a coward,” Tony says, but the vehemence in his tone falls a bit flat since he pushes himself into a sitting position even while he speaks. Bucky tries to keep holding him close but does not force it when Tony wriggles free. “It’s just, people will find out, and it’s better to just get ahead of them. It will still be a shitstorm when I announce you as my husband, and I wish I could spare you all that bullshit, but –”

He shrugs, imagining all the shitty things people will say about him and the “poor guy” he is dragging down with him.

“But it’ll be worse if they find us sneaking around. I know,” Bucky finishes his sentence. He props himself up on his elbow, looking apologetic.

“You don’t –” In his head, Tony had this conversation a thousand times; him nobly offering Bucky an out. It will never be easy, being connected to him, and since Bucky has demons he prefers to remain buried, Tony knows it is unfair to pull him into this mess, especially knowing how it will end. “I mean, you should really think about this. Talk to your friends.”

Bucky rolls his lips together, then pulls them up in an estimate of a smile. Neither of them comments on how strained it ends up. “You mean Steve, who still pretends to believe you’re paying me for sex and nothing more?”

The joke falls flat and still Tony wishes he could pick it up, could pretend he does not have to take Bucky’s worries seriously because everything will turn out fine in the end.

“You know what I mean,” he replies a little impatiently. He does not want this to culminate in a I told you so situation before they part forever. “Don’t do this because you feel obligated or anything. I won’t hold it against you if you want to back out.”

Tony cannot look at Bucky, afraid of what he will see. Even the slightest bit of hesitation will be his undoing. He never knew how to do anything half measure. If he falls for someone, he does so with his entire being. He never much cared for saving himself, and he does so even less now.

Bucky reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing until Tony gives up and finds Bucky’s eyes.

“I want you, Tony,” he says, with his voice and his gaze, and means it.

Still, Tony tries to harden himself against that. “You’d get a nice sum so you won’t have to worry about the flat or the maintenance for the arm and –”

A finger on his lips cuts him off and he complies happily, even if does not allow himself to feel relief yet.

“You should shut up know and kiss me,” Bucky says, orders really and tugs at Tony’s hand, trying to pull him back down.

“I mean it, Bucky.” Tony raises both their hands to his lips and presses a small, desperate kiss against Bucky’s skin. “What we have is nice but I come with a lot of baggage.”

He does not mean to sound dismissive and yet he catches the hurt flickering over Bucky’s face. What they have is not just nice.

“Don’t tell me about baggage,” Bucky snaps, but his face immediately softens. He sits up too, then, and scoots close enough that his knee rests against Tony’s thigh. “You know all of my bullshit too.”

True enough, Tony’s story is a lot less bloody than Bucky’s, a lot less traumatic too, although Sam likes to preach that they cannot compare trauma, that everybody reacts differently and objectivity has nothing to do with it.

“But yours doesn’t come with stupid reporters following your every step,” Tony argues and that, at least, is true. Nobody can dispute that.  

Bucky’s eyes crinkle when he looks at Tony. “I love you, Tony,” he says and the words, as always, break free a storm in Tony’s chest. “Don’t worry about me. I love you and that’s all that matters.”

That should be enough, but Tony is a worrier. “You say that now,” he says, very quietly, almost hoping that Bucky will not catch it. But Bucky is practiced at gauging his moods and reading between the lines.

Bucky shrugs, carefree enough that some of the weight drops off Tony’s chest. “If they become too much we’ll simply fly to your private island and hide until they grow bored.”

Against his will, a smile tugs at Tony’s lips. “It won’t be that easy.” But he imagines that it could be. They could take his plane and vanish before anyone knows what is happening. Pepper would murder him, of course, but she wants him happy, too. They could work it out.

“I know but I don’t care.”

They should leave it at that. Tony leans forward, rest his head against Bucky’s shoulder. Sometimes it is still unreal, the way Bucky is always willing to hold him.

“What if you’ll regret it?” Tony asks against Bucky’s skin, barely more than a whisper. “What if you’ll regret me?”

That is how his greatest fear shifted. From not wanting to die alone, from never finding what Jarvis and Ana had, to losing this.

“I won’t,” Bucky promises, soft and determined enough that Tony cannot help but believe him. “And before you protest, I could ask you the same thing.”

Tony snaps up his head to squint up at Bucky. “You’re brilliant,” he intones, full of the conviction he always lacks when it comes to himself. “The best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Bucky smiles as he did something clever. “There you have your answer.”

A grimace pulls on Tony’s face. He does not like being played, not even for his own benefit. “But I’m me and you’re – you,” he tries, one last time. He gets tired of doubt, does not want it to ruin the good moments they have.

“And don’t you ever change.” With that, Bucky pulls him closer again. “Now, let’s talk about nicer things. Or better yet, stop talking.”

That is the best idea Tony has heard all night. All week, really, with all those bumbling idiots here for the convention.

“You’re insatiable,” Tony says as he shifts to better fit against Bucky, skin against skin, lust blooming again inside his gut.

Chuckling, Bucky presses his lips against Tony’s neck, slowly working his way upwards. “I just want you to get your money’s worth.”

That stupid joke will never grow old. “Then better get working. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a billionaire.”

Instead of wasting any more air on words, Bucky pulls Tony closer, sealing their lips together in what feels like a promise. Tony still does not know how he managed to get so lucky to have Bucky in his life, but he knows he would not change a thing.

#fanfiction #marvel #winteriron #fluff #love #engagement #nothing bad happens #at all #strange i know #my writing #ao3

[wunderlass]

Max Evans, King of Consent

For some reason, within the fandom, Max has got a bit of a reputation as a weird, creepy stalker when it comes to Liz. And I really don’t understand where this came from, because that is not what was presented to us on screen. At all.

Let’s examine the evidence, shall we?

tl;dr: He isn’t, you didn’t pay attention to the show and leapt to conclusions

The teen years:

The little we see of Echo growing up, we know Max and Liz have some level of friendship. Max plays a supportive role to her, especially in their senior year. But Liz was with Kyle, and there’s no evidence Max ever bad-mouthed Kyle or tried to get in their way, despite the fact that Kyle was an obnoxious jerk at that point.

Max makes plans for the future that don’t involve Liz. Only after their “moment” at the prom, when Liz is single, does Max make a move. By this point we know Liz is beginning to reciprocate his feelings. Their desert date is sweet, and almost ends in a kiss--but when Liz pulls away, Max’s first instinct is to apologise. He doesn’t push Liz to kiss him when she explains why she won’t, or argue with her plans. Instead, he only expresses regret--as does Liz. It’s clear that she thinks a kiss between them is a significant event and that how she feels may be as intense as how he does.

At this point, Max has everything he’s ever wanted (with regards to Liz) at his fingertips. But he respects Liz’s choices and boundaries. Everything we see of him suggests that if Liz was with Kyle until the end of high school and left Roswell without anything ever happening between them, he’d be okay with that. All he wants, all he has ever wanted, is for Liz to be happy--and if that’s with another man, then so be it.

Then he suggests, tentatively, that he come along on the roadtrip, and Liz is overjoyed at the idea. They make plans. Everything goes to shit, and Liz leaves. Max gives her the space to say goodbye to her family without seeking out one of his own, understanding that if she hasn’t sought him out, she has no intention of doing so. He lets her go and takes the emotional hit in silence. He doesn’t follow her. His reasons for this are complex--he has to stay for his siblings, and he feels guilty over his involvement in Rosa’s death--but it’s clear he doesn’t expect anything further from Liz at this point.

Present time in the season:

In 2018, Max’s understanding of consent has only improved. He refuses to kiss her in the pilot while assuming his feelings are having an impact on her ability to agree to it. He repeats that refusal in episode two for the same reason. Liz is the one in pursuit here, and Max is arguably trying to give her space until any influence he’s having on her has passed.

Also in episode two, she tells him she’s leaving Roswell. He accepts this. He was expecting it, even if he’s not happy about it. At the end of the episode, he’s gutted when she tells him that she doesn’t have feelings for him, but he doesn’t argue with her about it. He accepts it before she’s even finished telling him there will be no kiss. Liz is the one who manipulates him to spend more time together, and when he realises he’s being manipulated, he makes plans to try and move forward with somebody else, under the impression that Liz will be leaving town soon and he can lick his wounds when she’s gone.

Arguably in these early episodes Liz seeks out Max more than the other way around. She goes looking for him to collect his DNA in the pilot (which, let’s face it, is ethically ambiguous at best). She’s going to confront him when he comes to find her and confess his secret. She summons him to the church, and also to the turquoise mines. At the end of episode three they have a big confrontation over Max’s love letter, and he finally confesses the depths of his feelings. He does this to try and answer some of her questions, and because she’s pushing him to explain himself, not because he’s expecting reciprocation. Liz is the one who started this confrontation, not Max, and he walks away from it.

Not all of Max’s reactions are healthy--he blows up the town after this confrontation. Yet this seems to be as much a side effect of healing Liz as it is his emotions. He’s calmer in the next episode, and turns his attention to what he believes will be a strategy to ensure Liz leaves town.

That’s right. He’s so entitled to Liz that he plans to make sure she leaves Roswell. What a foolproof plan to win the girl, right?

There is another Echo confrontation at the end of episode four, where Max asks Liz to tell him how she feels. The question may come across as demanding, but by this point he knows she’s been playing with his feelings. He also knows she’s spilled the secret she promised to keep. His anger here is quiet and non-threatening. He’s asking for the truth, not demanding that she return his feelings. He wants closure but he expects to never see her again after this confrontation: his final words to her are a goodbye.

When he finds out in episode five that Michael and Isobel sent her away in 2008, he does demand to know where she is, because he wants to give her this truth. However, that revelation is interrupted by her being in danger, and he rushes to her rescue. He never does tell her about that himself. Liz comes to his house to make sure he’s okay, and from there the secrets from ten years ago come spilling out. Liz tells Max to stay away from her--and he does. He doesn’t plead with her or try to justify himself. He lets her go, again.

(He is hurt and angry, and that spills out around him in episode seven, but it is not directed at Liz, who he recognises deserves her own anger).

In fact he abides by this so well over the next couple of episodes that at the beginning of episode nine things are noticeably awkward between them. Liz has been working to save Isobel, and realistically this is only because of her own unvoiced feelings for Max, but he continues to give her space. We’ve seen him avoiding her in episodes seven and eight, and now Max is so careful of her boundaries that he misses all the signals she’s giving him. When she’s cold, he asks if he can give her his jacket, rather than assuming she wants it. She approaches him several times over the course of the episode (outside the tents, in the bar), and in the end, she’s the one who initiates the kiss. This is after he has made a grand speech about how he loves her despite her flaws--then turned his back to walk away because he still assumes her feelings towards him have not changed.

The entire season shows that Max is so careful of how he approaches Liz. Consent matters to him (and yes, the healing scene with Michael in the finale is deliberately out of character) and he never expects Liz to return his feelings. Any time she hints that she doesn’t return them, he blindly accepts this because he’s working under the assumption she could never love him. Similarly, he misses the obvious signs that she does have feelings for him. He prioritises what she says over her body language and behaviours, making no presumptions until she literally reels him in for a kiss. His self-esteem is somewhere in the depths of the desert outside of Roswell, and it’s going to take a lot of work to unearth it.

So where has this collective fanon come from? If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a combination of a few things. 

Max is a big guy. I’ve talked about this elsewhere, but I think his size and his anger issues in the early episodes (which the show went to great pains to explain were out of character) had people deciding he was some kind of alphahole trope. And once they’d decided that, it didn’t matter what actually happened on the show, they were going to see Max’s feelings for Liz as selfish, his pining as something he was trying to make her problem, her love something he felt entitled to. I also believe there’s a certain amount of “straight white man, let’s hate him because he isn’t oppressed” going on, which completely misunderstands what privilege is. (I believe that because I’ve seen it expressed that way, I’m not pulling that out of nothing).

Also, throughout the season Max and Michael have a slightly adversarial relationship. Michael is something of a fan-favourite and that has led to people siding with him over Max, even where Michael was wrong (see: the end of episode 12/beginning of episode 13, where Michael got himself killed by Noah because he refused to listen to Max). 

You don’t have to love or even like Max. But if any of your critique of him as a character starts from a place of “he felt entitled to Liz” or “he was a stalker”, then I’m going to dismiss you out of hand, because you haven’t been paying attention to what was actually happening in the show.

Let’s give the last word to our leading lady:

“I love him--and he loves me. I wish you had the chance to have someone love you, Rosa. Purely. Without expectation or entitlement.”

See? Liz gets it.

(Also, just in case any of this seems anti-Liz, it’s not. Liz was justified in all of her actions during the show).

#roswell new mexico #meta #rnm echo #max evans #liz ortecho

[janiedean]

Now I want to hear the Stannis rant (when you have time)!!

hahahah have fun XD okay so for context, the tags I mentioned the aforementioned rant in:

#one day i’ll rant at lenght about how dnd never got stannis#bc they cannot conceive that a dude with THAT kinda moral compass is a complete disaster when it comes to interpersonal relationships#nor that half of the issues stannis has are bc he’s literally starving for people to see he has worth#while slaving for them anyway and being more competent than anyone else that passes before him#but this is not the day i guess

now: this is... a thing that I honestly struggle with when it comes to this fandom because the side that hates stannis thinks he’s a selfish arrogant asshole without feelings and the side that loves him is like ‘omg such a great battle commander GO RIGHTFUL KING HE’S SO BADASS’ and I feel like neither is an accurate reading because the first sees the character at mere face value (and most likely skipped the davos chapters) and the second only cares about his so-called badassness, but... thing is: stannis is an extremely competent person who’s also a disaster at relationships because he feels like no one cares for him (which isn’t exactly untrue as I’ll rant about later) who in turn everyone judges as uncaring and unfeeling when he actually isn’t and who in turn compulsively pursues what he can pursue because he has to compensate and who on the other side is absolutely starved for recognition except that he doesn’t get it.

and like... at this point I have to lay down the premises in the sense that while I really wish I didn’t, I... kind of really do relate a lot to that aspect - people assuming you’re cold/aloof because you aren’t immediately excited about things or don’t wear feelings on your sleeve - and tbh I really really love that grrm made a character who has the Good At Battles And So On reputation... a complete interpersonal rships disaster, because it actually gives him a whole new layer that I don’t see really discussed often and since that’s what I relate to... it’s sad. for me personally at least.

anyway, thing is:

the fact that stannis was the unloved baratheon brother is the exact first thing you learn from the acok prologue - I mean, ‘Stannis, my lord, my sad sullen boy, son I never had, you must not do this, don't you know how I have cared for you, lived for you, loved you despite all? Yes, loved you, better than Robert even, or Renly, for you were the one unloved, the one who needed me most.’ like, it’s the first thing the narrative throws at you in the face the moment that he does something that already puts him on the reader’s bad side ie dismissing poor cressen, but it’s basically the key to the entire damned point;

because first of all it implies stannis (who’s the middle child out of those three) felt like both his brothers didn’t love him and with their parents dying the way they did that goes too, and if we take into account the proudwing episode - he saves the damned hawk, he’s all happy he got it back to fly, robert mocks him for it and his uncle convinces him to let it die - it’s basically the metaphor for his life because whatever he does, the people who should notice don’t care;

this actually should be discussed along with the whole siege of storm’s end because like... stannis held out by almost starving himself and his men (but renly never mentions it whenever he speaks so I should suppose he doesn’t remember it as an extremely traumatic event when he was in the castle, so stannis made sure he actually had enough food to not starve most likely when no one else did) for robert and if he hadn’t done that when he was barely twenty if not nineteen they’d have lost the rebellion, which you’d think would give him nice things, right? no, because robert gives him dragonstone which stannis sees as a slight, he feels like robert loves ned more than him and he’s p. resentful about it, renly basically bypasses him when it’s time to claim the throne with the amazing explanation that ‘he’s not amusing and people wouldn’t like him’ when that’s not how succession works and he doesn’t seem to get one inch of appreciation by his relatives that he almost died for;

now he has that compulsive thing when it comes to laws and sticking to justice.... considering that he feels like all of his entire family wronged him since he was a teenager (and like, i’m obv. not blaming robert for not having been the best bc he also had trauma bc their parents died I mean we have issues but I get it) and like both his brothers feel like others (ned, loras/the tyrells) are more their family than him and/or that they don’t care for him because he’s sour/not immediately expansive/etc... are we surprised that he has that much of a problem with the concept of compulsively following justice/the rules? considering that when it comes to that it’s written black on white and fairness is objective, obviously he’s a sucker for the rules and he feels that strongly about his birthright - that’s because he feels like he can only trust in objective ruling that everyone should follow rather than people;

this is where I go personal, but... a thing that’s extremely common if you tend to be shy/not immediately an extrovert/if it takes you time to get to know people/if you aren’t a funny person automatically is that people start to assume you don’t have feelings or you don’t care about others, which in turn means that you tend to become even worse because the moment you open up you’re terrified that the other person will hate you, and that’s... peak stannis because the way he’s when the books start is out of all of that plus having married someone out of obligation for robert and getting humiliated on the same wedding night plus having just one daughter everyone sees as defective and that renly openly mocked at some point too but never mind that, and like... another thing with stannis that people don’t really notice is that while he’s crap at expressing his love for his daughter because he’s shit at feelings and relationships, he also loves her really fucking much and as someone else pointed out he didn’t educate her to marry into some other family, he educated her to be his heir and with davos’s male sons and so on, like he didn’t give her just a lady’s education, he gave her a full-on heir education, which outside dorne is unheard of, and in his last adwd chapter as much as dnd didn’t read it... he told people to put her on the throne if he died and to fight for her same as they would have for him. like, it’s obvious that he does love her, he’s just complete crap at showing it... same as he is in general because he doesn’t feel like he can be open about his feelings with people and because he pretty much has no fucking clue of how it works, which is... well... what happens when you grow up with that kind of emotional stuntedness;

that is, unless he’s talking to davos, which is what I’d really fucking like for people to realize. like, never mind the show, but when book!stannis talks to davos he immediately goes from 100% completely closed off to being all soft and as affectionate as it goes and I mean guys... just a couple quotes but:“He seemed ten years older than the man that Davos had left at Storm's End when he set sail for the Blackwater and the battle that would be their undoing. The king's close-cropped beard was spiderwebbed with grey hairs, and he had dropped two stone or more of weight. He had never been a fleshy man, but now the bones moved beneath his skin like spears, fighting to cut free. Even his crown seemed too large for his head. His eyes were blue pits lost in deep hollows, and the shape of a skull could be seen beneath his face. Yet when he saw Davos, a faint smile brushed his lips. "So the sea has returned me my knight of the fish and onions.""It did, Your Grace." Does he know that he had me in his dungeon? Davos went to one knee.”-"I am lowborn," Davos reminded him. "An upjumped smuggler. Your lords will never obey me.""Then we will make new lords.""But . . . I cannot read . . . nor write . . .""Maester Pylos can read for you. As to writing, my last Hand wrote the head off his shoulders. All I ask of you are the things you've always given me. Honesty. Loyalty. Service.""Surely there is someone better . . . some great lord . . ."Stannis snorted. [...] but I trust none of them as I trust you, my lord of Rainwood. You will be my Hand. It is you I want beside me for the battle."that’s TWO, and when davos says that his lords wouldn’t want him for a hand stannis goes like you’re more important than them to me pretty much, and in general the moment they’re alone together he’s way more open and vulnerable and sincere than he is when literally anyone else... that is because davos is the literal one person that not only is his actual friend (bc he doesn’t really have any other friends not even between his relatives), but also someone who:a) actually thinks the world of him;b) hasn’t batted an eyelid at his sense of justice I mean guys let’s be real he cut off davos’s fingertips bc he was a criminal at the same time as giving him a lordship after davos saved his life and everyone else’s and davos has the bones with him always because he thinks they’re his luck I mean k that’s extra but he actually does see stannis’s point when it comes to fairness;c) hasn’t disappointed him once;d) has only ever acted in his best interest;e) is the kind of person who’ll call him out on his bs rather than kiss his ass for honors and to someone who has stannis’s issues knowing that that kinda person exists means a whole damned lot;f) doesn’t think he’s there just to run the show without getting thankfed for it nor takes him for granted nor doesn’t recognize his efforts, which is 99,9% of his remaining issues with everyone else - ie that he does his job and does it well but no one recognizes it and everyone else passes in front of himg) sees his worth, which is a thing stannis is literally starved for but doesn’t get from many others period;which means he has one healthy relationship with someone bar maybe his daughter. one. that’s... not really that great or good whatsoever;

I mean there’s a reason why stannis wants that throne so bad. not that he cares about it, but that’s his right, so anyone else getting it would be the umpteenth time in his eyes that someone cheats him off something that’s rightfully is (storm’s end, his brothers’s love/affection/support etc); 

like, it’s not about how stannis is such a great badass fighter strategist, it’s that he wants the throne that badly because not getting it would be just the last straw in the list of slights he feels that he’s been at the end of for his entire life and one more humiliating than any of those others, because otherwise he wouldn’t give a damn;

and like... what I think dnd missed and a lot of people also do is that the ‘great commander who wins fights’ doesn’t mean he also can’t be a guy with extremely bad issues when it comes to interpersonal rships thanks to trauma and to the almost entirety of people around him writing him off as the not fun boring guy who only cares about laws when the only reason stannis cares that much about what’s fair and what’s not is that he feels like everyone else has been unfair to him.

and like....... recognizing that would require admitting that stannis is the farthest thing in these books from a badass conqueror guy who wins battles and wants to be king and will be an equally badass king - he’s an extremely competent guy who became competent at his job out of sheer stubborness and perfection complex who is everything but an emotionless machine (regardless of what people who should know better ie his brothers might think) and who has been disappointed so much in this sense that he can only have a healthy relationship with one single person who is not so coincidentally someone who saved his life, didn’t see anything wrong in his strike for justice, recognizes his worth and would die for him, which... is really not anyone else’s case in his immediate vicinities (not counting his soldiers and so on but that’s another problem entirely). that requires admitting that westeros crap toxic societal standards have hurt him too and that he has a second side that’s not really so cool (guys being emotionally stunted is not fun, I’ll 100% guarantee it to you, and people assuming you’re cold or emotionless because you can’t immediately open up to them is even worse) and that if you want to project greatness on him you should also embrace the fact that he’s a complete human disaster who is as starved for recognition/appreciation as jon is and there’s probably a reason why they were getting along so well in adwd.

and like, I think the fanbase who hails him as the new coming of jesus doesn’t recognize that because it interferes with the fearless conqueror dude fantasy - which is his superficial reading, not his actual reading, same as people deciding he’s emotionless just out of superficial reading, while dnd obviously didn’t know how to write him since S3 because they couldn’t decide what to do with him... but obviously, because dnd have no idea of how to write a male character who is both a strong military commander and an emotional disaster who wants recognition for his own worth and isn’t a power hungry asshole. nvm that dnd have no idea of how to write emotionally vulnerable male characters (see what they did with jaime tyrion theon and sandor and that’s not even counting jon or robb) but stannis was obv. too complicated for them to even consider actually trying for real.

/two cents

#stannis baratheon #janie writes meta #i guess #ch: stannis baratheon #hey do I have salt about stannis? A WHOLE DAMNED LOT #also: I know he's done a lot of horrid shit #AND NO ONE SAYS LISTENING TO MEL IS A GOOD THING #nor we think his acok choices were good choices #this is about WHY he is the way he is #and the side where he's a 100% human disaster is only ever touched #by some ppl in fandom once in a while #and most of them left with S5 #understandably #because I refuse to recognize the S5 finale #long post for ts #janie rants #dragonsthough101 #ask post

[windstormwielding]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES(?) / NO / IDK (@elvaliiente​ literally called him a hot bishie prince so I guess! all the praise should go to @hanabiira​ though <3)

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK

Are they underrated?  YES / NO / N/A (He be an OC, my dude!)

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO / N/A

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  — As to the letter as possible! Even before my OC’s revamp (albeit crack posts aside), the main point was to work strictly within the canon’s confines, though it’s gone a lot smoother since the missus and I rebooted him. That said, the beauty of a completed story is that anything after the ending is fair game!

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  Kōtarō Ryōhei is a proud shinigami for the Thirteenth Division, where he had served for his entire career, and was promoted to the position of lieutenant following the end of Bleach. He tries his hardest to uphold the legacy of his predecessors, do his squad justice, lead by example, and make his Captain proud. On the surface, he stands as a well-meaning, hardworking goober who’s down to earth and tries to see the good in everyone if possible, regardless of their standing or affiliation. Deep down, the act of the easygoing fool can betray his true intentions, as he is more analytically-minded than he lets on.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  Well, I understand just roleplaying with an unknown OC can be dodgy and isn’t everyone’s cup of tea! Plus, I can’t ignore that characters like Isshin Kurosaki, Shunsui Kyōraku, and Kisuke Urahara fill out similar archetypes, but it’s a trope I love all the same, haha.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  Kōta as a concept had been around since my early teens and had been reworked a number of times since then (going from overpowered glorified self-insert I never, ever wish to speak of or acknowledge ever again and evolving into something more reasonably sound over time and as I got older). When I saw there was a thriving (and surprisingly patient at the time) community on Tumblr back in the early 2010s, likeminded folks who just loved and really wanted to share in their enthusiasm for the world of Bleach, I just couldn’t resist.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  The friends we made along the way. Well, I went on an indefinite hiatus for the past year and a half but my muse had been nagging at me since the recent announcement that the Bleach anime was making a comeback. I’ve made a lot of friends on here too! Plus, I wouldn’t be back on here if it weren’t for Bunny’s help with the art and topdown reboot. I’ve been loving all the new interactions my boy has been involved in and reconnecting with familiar faces, and it only compels me further to stick around and keep writing when possible! As for outside sources though... a few video game franchises and TV shows helped further cement Kōta’s characterization and motifs.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO. (for now)

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO. (for now)

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  Of course! I’m a lot more confident in Kōta’s portrayal now than I was before, but any well-meaning pointers will be appreciated all the same.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  By all means! I welcome any and all inquiries that would give me something more to think about when it comes to Kōta’s ongoing development.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  Beauty of having an OC is that all their headcanons are straight up their own canon! ...so long as it doesn’t contradict actual canon, at least.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  This question is probably more suitable towards canon characters so I’ll just skip it, don’t mind me-

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  Eh, if it can’t be helped... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It’s impossible to please everyone.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  ABSOLUTELY. God, as much as I try to proofread something I’m about to post, I always feel a part of me die when I notice a typo, an unfinished sentence, or a repeated phrase after I hit submit!

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  I’d say I’m pretty chill! It takes a lot to actually get under my skin or make me feel offended - I just try and take things in stride and I’m always open to chat! As for roleplaying, just reply to a thread at your own pace - I’m happy just interacting at any level!

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @elxfi​ Tagging: (I lost track on who tagged who but-) @captainrukia​, @zombiequincy​, @solitariusdeluna​, @goofyshinigami​, @gentleshinigami​ / @equiltario​ / @bleachintothemultiverse​ (any muse), @nightbeat-cat​ @praedulcis--helianthus​, and anyone who sneezed at least once in their life

#{ beyond the sky ☁ ooc ☁ } #{ //don't deny it and say you never sneezed- } #{ catching wind of fun trends ☁ dash games ☁ }

[hiyorisarugaki]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO (essentially could’ve still been trained by other visored) / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  —I try my best! I am still not really caught up on bleach. I stopped reading/watching after the Winter War, so I’m literally winging it with any other developments and posts. I am living my life with spoilers~!

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  — Hiyori has a very pure mind. Pure in the sense that she’s as straight as an arrow. What you see is what you get. She speaks/blurts out everything she feels. And if she doesn’t say it, you can still see it. Every emotion is written straight on her face. She could never really make a good liar and to that end-- if she is your friend, you know she’s really your friend. She’s the type that’ll treat your life as more valuable than her own. She’ll do everything in her power to protect you. Even if you are losing your mind or your sense of self, she will never stop being your friend. Loyal and comically tsundere at times, it’s almost like whiplash keeping up with her topsy-turvy emotions. But if you can, you will definitely be rewarded with someone strong, fearless and unflinchingly loyal at your side. Someone who will fight all your battles for you, no matter how impossible the odds appear.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  I think most people agree that she is very violent. She hits people and her friends that do not actually deserve it. She never uses proportional force and it’s obvious that she has a multitude of issues that she has but never bothers to fix. She’s reliant on her friends to make her appear better than she is, because on her own, she would just be a violent goblin. But with her friends, she’s actually Hiyori. So in a sense, Hiyori has no actual sense of self without other people’s loyalty to her.

In addition, she’s not at all traditionally attractive like a normal bleach female. She’s mean and ugly and angry and easily triggered and most of the fandom think it was a cop-out to have her survive her bifurcation.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  Uhm... I always wanted to rp one of the visored. I loved their story the most- outcasts among the shinigami, hollow and humans. They were outsiders and their story feels the saddest to me. They are victims of a crime and yet, they do not behave like typical victims. They are all so vibrant (sorta!) and I love that about them. I also wanted to pick up a character that was uhh... violent? XD I have never written someone who was the complete opposite of me. I suppose it was to challenge myself. To rp someone who is always controversial and yet, still retain interactions.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  I’ve really grown to adore Hiyori over the past year of rping her. I’ve always loved shiyori and have also managed to develop an amazing ship with @hirako5hinji​ and I love all their threads. I keep having so many new ideas and AUs for these two that I wish there were more hours in the day!  I also love to develop different friendships with Hiyori. Her interactions with people that are shinigami, human and hollow- and how she perceives them in her mind with her blatant prejudice verses her actual nature of wanting connections... it’s such a good balancing act. ;u; 

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO ( I wish I was caught up on bleach!).

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO. 

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO. (Very rarely, but if I happen to think of a little scene or my writing muse is strong, I’ll do one. But I prefer interactions!) 

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO. (Lmao, all day everyday I watch shows or outfits or have food and I’m always wondering what Hiyori might think of this XD.)

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO. (I’m still considered a bit new to the bleach fandom. Everyone has their worries!)

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. (some replies I’m like wow and others I’m like why?)

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. (gomen)

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  — I do. I’m too old to worry about other people not liking my portrayal, but if they have something that they have an issue with or think I’m doing something totally wrong because I missed something in the manga- then I will accept it and incorporate it. =u= / I’m just winging it really and having fun!

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  Oh wow! I love those questions. It always makes me think and explore more cracks and crevices about my character and her feelings regarding such issues. I also love questions that eventually lead to a new headcanon for my character too! c:

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  Yeah, I love talking about Hiyori. Even if you’re disagreeing with me, I’ll love to hear it! TALK TO ME ;u;

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  Uhm... not sure? I think if they don’t like it then I hope they can unfollow me! I don’t want them to think this is wildly ooc and ruining the characterisation of Hiyori for them. ; - ; I would feel a little bad, but not bad enough to change my portrayal completely. Everyone has their own interpretation of a character and not everyone will have the same views or thoughts on it. 

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  Most people don’t really like Hiyori anyway so I’m chill as long as I got interactions. xD

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  Yes. Lol, I rush when writing and uhm, I’m the type that rarely edits my work until AFTER I post it. Both mun and muse are reckless and charge in blind then realise the damage after the thing has been done. orz

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   — Yeah. I have no energy to develop any conflicts with anyone lmao! I just love to rp and I actually enjoy reading nearly everyone’s threads. I wish I had the time to go through the entire dash and read every interaction, but now I limit my reading of the dash to when I’m online or if I love a thread and follow the replies. : > I love rping and I hope you guys have as much fun as me!!

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @meishutori @bleachintothemultiverse -thank you both! Tagging: @strcngered @praedulcis--helianthus @skyvar @ilusionis @nicetryshyguy @niopham &anyone else!

#memes #meme replies

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 60: For the Lazy Mornings

Chapters: 60/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings:  Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel),  Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Bad Dreams, Loki has Unresolved Issues, Reader Contemplates, Walk Walk Fashion Baby, Lol Yes I Did Write A Whole Chapter That Takes Place Within Like Thirty Minutes

Summary:  You miss breakfast.

Loki awoke to darkness; velvety, silent, and comfortable. A slight chill had crept into the room, the sensation familiar on his skin. The sun must be setting fully again, finally. The seasons on this world were so strange, foreign.

You shifted next to him. The chill might be soothing to him, but your fragile, precious human body might not take to it well. He should probably get an extra blanket for you.

Of course, there were other ways to keep you warm. Lust stirred in him, recalling your clumsy, insistent hands and hungry, determined expression. It wasn't the first handjob of his life, but it was certainly the most earnest.

For some reason, you hadn't wanted him to return the favor at the time. But now...

He placed his hand on your thigh. You rolled over to face him, bigger than you should be, twice, three times bigger than you should be. The bright, rainbow-scattered light of the old Bifrost Loki remembered lit up the room, highlighting your sapphire skin, your bright red eyes looking down at him fondly. Loki shouted, recoiling in revulsion, but the roar of the Bifrost drowned him out, the light overcoming him.

Loki sat up in bed.

It was dark, but to his eyes, faint light escaped from the edges of his blackout curtains. You stirred, and his head whipped around to stare. You were your normal, adorably compact size, and thankfully devoid of blue. He let out a relieved breath.

“Well.” You muttered. “That was weird. Is that what it's like, when you look down at me? What was that loud light?”

You must not have been able to see yourself in the dream, the way he had.

“That...that was the old Bifrost. It used to be like that, when it was fully functional and powered up. Brighter. Bigger. More color, more range, a louder roar. Just more powerful.”

Powerful enough to slice through the mile thick ice crust of a tiny, helpless planet, creating a canyon a quarter of the way across the equatorial region, exposing the water far below, and causing Norns only knew what kind of havoc.

You had still been beautiful, in the colorful light, in the wrong skin, the wrong size. Still beautiful. Somehow, it repulsed him.

But the dream was gone now, the shock fading away into the warmth you brought to his bed. He settled back down into your waiting arms. It was so comfortable here. Though not yet lovers exactly, you fit so well into his bed, and he fit so well into your arms, his head resting between your breast and jaw, so he could hear the steady pumping of your heart.

“Sleep, okay?” You encouraged. “Everyone's leaving tomorrow. Then you'll have peace again.”

“Hm? Whatever do you mean?” Loki said. He knew what you meant, but was surprised that you'd thought of it.

“Well, it's stressful, right? Having all these enemies around, pax or no.” You said, absently stroking his hair.

“Not enemies. Not anymore.”

“Not friends either, though. Bad blood.”

“Some of them.” He admitted.”Some of them weren't even there at the time. Many of the others have...well, not forgiven me precisely, but accepted the reality of me. Or simply moved on. But then, there are those who can't.”

“Tony.”

“It isn't his fault. My actions fundamentally changed him. How many others like him? I wonder sometimes.”

“You regret what you did?” You sounded...not surprised, but curious.

“I regret the lives lost. Though my actions actually brought some benefit to your world-forced your governments to realize there were threats from outside, to at least try to prepare for further incursions, revitalize your space programs, recognize your heroes...but it is terribly unbecoming to attack civilians.”

“Huglausi?” You ventured.

“Very.” He sighed. “I compromised my honor very severely. Obliterated it, really. I've done many unseen things to try to restore it. In the end, it's really all I have.”

He wrapped one arm around you and snuggled up as close as was possible without actually being on top of you.

“I've seen how superficial so many things really are, how easy it is to be stripped of them. Title. Wealth. Name. Home. Identity. The only thing that truly lasts, the only thing that has impact, is deeds. And mine have been...reprehensible.”

“But it wasn't entirely you.” You pointed out. “You were being controlled.”

“Not entirely. I told you, it was still me. I know it's tempting to attribute everything to some behind-the-scenes puppetmaster, but it wasn't like that, it was...” He trailed off, squeezing you.

“Like what?”

He held his breath and shook his head a little. If he told you too much, if he told you everything, you would never lie next to him again. He would lose this as soon as he had gotten it.

But didn't you deserve to know what kind of creature you slept next to? Didn't you at least deserve to know what was behind his actions on Earth? Maybe not the rest of it, but the things that impacted the world you lived in?

“You know how you hate the man who hurt you during the Sn-the Event? But you wish you did not, and you wish you could forgive him, but the anger and unfairness of it just hits you sometimes? And you feel guilty about it, and that makes you angry too; bitter, resentful. And that makes you feel even worse, and it just builds on itself, until it finally goes away, but you're miserable the whole time, and a while afterwards?”

“Uh...yeah. It's exactly like that, actually.”

“I too, have things that make me feel that way. And the influence of the Mind Stone was such that it made those thoughts, those angers and resentments come to the surface, and then it kept them there. It kept them fresh and constant-no healing, no overcoming, no acceptance or moving on, and, most importantly, no relief. It was neverending. A great font of anger and bitterness as fresh as the moment it was inflicted, and sustained, indefinitely, by the stone's power over me.

Thanos didn't put a ring in my nose to lead me around by; he didn't have to. A smidgen of psychological manipulation, and I was his. A nearly willing slave. I wanted the havoc I caused. I reveled in the chaos, the fear. I bathed in the sounds of screaming and destruction, lusted after the blood and terror.”

His breath had grown heavy. You fingers paused in his hair.

“I wanted it because I felt I had nothing else. No future, no identity. Only deeds. And I was determined to make them the biggest deeds I could, for good or ill. I was an avatar of the worst that a being like me could become, and the greatest I had ever been. I enjoyed what I was doing, because it was the only outlet, the only respite from the hate and anger that I had.

For all my plans, I could never have ruled like that. It's a lie the Mind Stone told me, that I tell myself, again and again. I could have done it. I could have made it work. But I could not even master myself. It was all lies, upon lies, upon lies. Lies built me. Lies define me, and that entire experience just proved it beyond any shadow of a doubt.”

“Loki...”

“Shhh.” He lightly brushed your mouth with his fingertips. “I committed great deeds. Great and terrible. And now, now that I control myself, now that the malign influence no longer hangs over me, I can no longer commit deeds so great. I cannot rebuild your city. You have already done that. I cannot show generosity in equal measure to my destructiveness. Asgards budget is too tight. Somehow, on the other side of madness, I am incapable of doing good in equal measure to ill. Why must it be so easy to harm you, but so difficult to help you?”

“Maybe because we all need different kinds of help, but we all die the same.” You said, and he grew quiet in contemplation. “ Loki, you have a lot you want to do, right? Rebuild Asgard, fix your reputation, help the people around you, be a good ruler. And on top of that, you have responsibilities to your family, and your people, and...well, to me too. As your...”

“Paramour...” He breathed. “Yes. I have...responsibilities. You...you need me.” It was almost a plea. “You want me...You want to be near me...I've been good to you...haven't I? Is there anything you need? Anything at all?”

You seemed to sense the tendrils of desperation that wound inside of him as he had explained himself, as he sought something to expend his energy on, and you resumed stroking his hair.

“Yes.” You said. “I need you to hold me for the rest of the night. I need to feel you close to me. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up to you first thing in the morning. That's all I want right now. Can you give me those things?”

He didn't move, just remained molded to you, head tucked under your jaw. Purpose. Simple, attainable purpose.

“All those things and more. Thank you, _____. I needed to say it. I knew you would listen. Without the stone, I would have healed, at least a little. Without the stone, I have healed. A little. There was time to mourn, time to accept. Time to look forward. I...I wish I was already the man I could be for you. I will be though. If you will but be patient with me.”

“Sleep, Loki.” You said. “I want to get to that waking up with you next to me part.”

                                                                               *****

And so you did, slipping gently back into consciousness, with the comfortable weight of Loki's arm across your chest. You turned your head to find he had tucked you under his chin, cuddling you like a plush doll.

You kissed his throat until he shifted and his breathing changed.

“Darling...” He mumbled sleepily. “Blessed maiden of comfort. Good morning.”

“Mornin' sweetie.” You said, and he scoffed at the pet name.

“I am a god.” He said

“You are a grump.” You answered, kissing the tip of his nose and shimmying out of bed.

He slithered out after you. “Am I really?”

“Only sometimes.” You teased.

You didn't join him in the bath this time, opting to take one in the evening instead. Your clothes had been left in a neatly folded stack just outside the door to Loki's bedroom rather than outside of yours.

Oh yes, everyone knew what was going on.

You reflected on how easy that acceptance seemed to be, as you slipped into your clothes for the day. Aside from a few loud, unpleasant, and downright dangerous individuals, the people of Asgard seemed perfectly fine with you.

Even though you'd been told several times that there was a struggle between human-friendly and human-unfriendly factions, it was really being treated as if the eventual failure and disappearance of the human-unfriendly groups was a foregone conclusion. As if it had all happened before, and had turned out the same every time.

Well, hadn't it?

The war with the Vanir had ended millenia ago, possibly before the first human civilizations had even begun. You could see the influence of their heritage in Saldis' features, and knew there were full Vanir here in Asgard who were trapped away from Vanaheim by the events of Ragnarok. Nobody cared anymore. The former queen of Asgard and the guardian of all Asgard were both raised by Alfar. Heck, with the strangeness of Heimdalls eyes, there might actually have been Alfar in his family tree.

Once you thought about it, there might be a little Jotun mixed in as well. Probably not Frost Giants, since they still seemed to be a point of contention among Asgardians, but other kinds of Jotun they didn't seem to have much trouble with. You knew the Vanir didn't have any trouble with intermarrying with them, and neither Loki, Brunnhilde, or Saga seemed to think they idea of marrying a Jotun was all that strange. Freyr was married to one, and they didn't act like he was a freak or anything. In fact, since Jotun were so genetically flexible, it was possible that any Asgardian could have a Jotun ancestor, and it might not even show at all.

You knew absolutely nothing about the previous queens of Asgard, save for where Frigga was raised...

Nah. You didn't actually want to go fishing for more royal scandal. You technically were one, even if the majority of Asgardians had accepted that you were but a harbinger of what was to come. They had survived intermingling with others, and they would survive humans too. Probably come out even better for it, if the history Saga taught you was accurate.

The real problem might just be other humans reactions to the idea. Humans were far too proficient at focusing on the differences between people, and dividing themselves up into groups that weren't supposed to be allowed to mingle...but still definitely did, even if the consequences were terrible. That was the problem. There shouldn't be those kinds of consequences, but there would be.  For the longest time, humans only had other humans to define as 'outsiders'. Only very recently had extraterrestrial intelligent species come to their attention, and almost every time, it was in a very negative way.

Part of the world was very on board with the Asgardians, but it was because of a shared cultural history. They regarded the Asgardians as partially 'theirs' somehow. But the rest of the world had no such ties, and some countries had a definite-and admittedly justified-beef with certain prominent Asgardians. One of which you happened to be actually dating.

Okay, but what could they actually do to you, aside from troll you on the internet? Asgard was on the lookout for assassins now, and you had committed no crimes. Besides, being with Loki was a good thing, right? It was a symbol of friendliness and good will between Asgard and humankind, right?

That was definitely not why you were doing it though. You just really liked him. Loki was a man of many virtues. One of them was how he came back from the bath, shirtless, and with his hair still damp.

That was a very good one.

Loki gave his hair one last scrub with the towel, dropped said towel over the back of his desk chair, and opened the carved wooden doors to his huge wardrobe. He stood in contemplation of the perfect thing to wear.

“What do you think...” He murmured. “What's the best combination for saying goodbye to a group of not-quite-enemies?”

“Peacefully?” You asked.

“Of course! I can't let it be known, but I actually like some of them, just a little.”

“So you want the 'lady who has just divorced her jackass, loser husband, and is past ready to mingle' look.”

One perfect eyebrow arched. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” You ducked under his arm and peered into the wardrobe. “So you wanna show off, but not your very best, because that's trying too hard, right? All black is dramatic, and looks so good on you...”

He preened.

“...But I think it might make you fade into the backdrop. How about this one though? The green matches mine, so we could present as a unified front. Also I like this little short cape.”

“This is a capelet. Would you like one? They are not difficult to make; I can order some for you.”  

He held up the tunic; a quilted thing of rich pine green and gold piping, knotwork designs at the stiff cuffs and mandarin collar.

“You like this?”

“It looks very...touchable.”

Both eyebrows went up this time. “Is that the image we want to project?”

“Put it on, and lets see.”

The tunic molded to him, so tight that you would have though it simply didn't fit. But he seemed to be able to move in it just fine. You ran your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

“I was right. Very touchable.”

He caught your hands in his and squeezed them gently.

“I'm glad you like it, but I don't think so. Not this one. It is actually part of a matched set made for myself and Thor, when we were younger.. It doesn't feel right to wear it, if he is not wearing his. I doubt he still even fits into his.”

He removed the tunic, and searched for another.

“I do like the color matching idea though. Perhaps this one? It is similar.”

This tunic did not fit him quite as tightly, but was still expertly tailored, and still the same color of green. It fell all the way to his knees, split to the hips in four places, and the sleeves terminated in sharp points over the back of his hands. It was quilted as well, but the pattern was more like scales, and you noticed that the metallic thread was gradated; starting out black at the bottom, then shifting to green, then gold at the collar and shoulders.

“Wow.” You breathed. “You look like a dragon!”

“Well,” He said. “I did steal you and fly you away to my lair full of riches, did I not?”

“That you did. Speaking of riches...can you help me with my brooches?”

“Of course, my dear.” He plucked the oval brooches from your palm, very carefully pinning them in place, so as not to prick you. As you had thought, he got them perfectly centered, their strings of beads cascading over the top of your breasts. They drew his eyes. “But you know how to pin them yourself, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do.” You said, a little sultriness slipping into your voice. Loki's eyes flicked to yours. He licked his lips.

You were in his arms barely a moment later, drowning in his mouth.

“I wish I was the man I could be for you. I will be.”

No man had ever said anything like that to you before. Never expressed any desire to be better for you. It was usually the opposite.

Loki, prince and god, wanted to be better. For you.

You were going to miss breakfast.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Ten

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 10: Familiar Things

Chapter Summary: Maybe the real coffee shops were the ones we found along the way. Or…not.

Chapter Word Count: 3469

    My new job was fine. The people were nice without being distracting, my boss gave guidance without being overbearing, and I did what I was supposed to do and got paid for it. So work was work in a satisfactory way.

Finding a new place to spend a lunch break was slightly more frustrating.

Steve: Don’t laugh at the name Steve: But the menu for this place looks good.

With only slight hesitation, I clicked on the link. And stared at the logo. And…stared some more.

Steve: You’re laughing, aren’t you Me: No Me: I’m

I couldn’t figure out how to finish that.

Me: Are you sure that’s a coffee shop and not a daycare? Steve: It says ‘coffee’ and has a menu!

I read it over, and yeah, it did, and yeah, the menu looked okay. But still.

Steve: Are you worried about your reputation?

I rolled my eyes.

Me: I’m some schlub that nobody cares about Me: The real question: would YOU be okay with someone recognizing you Me: And saying you must endorse ‘Whoa Doggy Coffee?’

His silence spoke volumes.

Me: Also Me: Who the fuck does a themed coffee shop named ‘Whoa Doggy’ Me: And DOESN’T make it western?! Steve: Why do I feel like Steve: if it was Steve: you would show up in a cowboy hat Me: *We Me: I know a shitty tourist stall that sells them Steve: Then this was a blessing in disguise Steve: But that mascot’s going to haunt my dreams Me: Same

I checked the clock. There wasn’t a whole lot of time before I took my break.

Me: There’s a crummy Starbucks a few blocks away Me: Drinks are meh but it’s surprisingly quiet Steve: That’ll work Steve: Give me cross streets and I’ll meet you there

~

The Starbucks That Corporate Forgot was fine for an ‘in the meantime,’ but I was really hoping for another place with nice people behind the counter and good stuff to drink and eat that also wasn’t far from my work. I had thought of coffee shops in New York as a dime a dozen, but I was pretty wrong, apparently. On some recommendations Steve had gotten we went to actual lunch a few times and it was nice. The food, at least, was fine, but all of it was a little pricey for me to want to make it a habit. And if we could find the right coffee shop, we could keep up a habit that I liked without hurting my wallet. I hoped.

The first place I picked out was a very generic coffee shop with a forgettable name. The drinks, though, were so bad that Steve and I took our respective sips and then spent the rest of our time together using my phone to find anywhere else but there.

Steve found a place that seemed fine but the guys behind the counter recognized him and were such assholes about it, it was like Steve had personally trampled their dicks in effort to destroy their oh-so-sturdy manhood. He kept it together pretty well while I felt like a static-charged cat, but when they started to turn their attention towards me I felt Steve stiffen up and I yanked him out of there before we could end up as a Jerry Springer special.

“It’s not that good,” Steve muttered into his cup after we had appropriated a table at a random food place.

“Tastes like bitter projection and manly, manly tears,” I said and sipped slowly. It made him laugh, at least, and his shoulders stopped looking so much like a straight line.

“I hear that much salt is bad for you though,” he said and winked at me.

I choked so hard he had to pat my back to help me breathe again.

~

I picked out a place I thought looked great. Unfortunately, the rest of the city apparently thought the same. The place was so busy Steve was easily lost in the crowd which, on one hand, great, good, wonderful, fantastic. On the other hand, the shop was small and hot and conversations dipped in and out, bleeding and merging into a cacophony that felt as oppressive as the bodies surrounding me.

I held out long enough to order and then, despite how fast the drinks were being made, looked outside for somewhere else to stand. I found it in a spot right near the window and gave Steve some excuse about how I would just be a second, and then made my escape.

I was catching my breath a few steps away from the glass, in some shade, when someone tapped my shoulder and I looked up just as Steve slid a cup into my hands. “Oh, I’m–” I closed my grip. “I’m sorry Steve.”

“It’s all right.” His hand was large and warm on my back, but I didn’t want to shrink away. “Let’s take a walk.”

It was better than scrounging for a broken table in a place I couldn’t even look at comfortably, so I nodded and we started walking. Steve acted as a buffer between me and the street and I waited to level out. The drink was really good. Too bad.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine.” I checked the time. We had plenty of it. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t trying to skip out, I just needed some air.”

“Was it someone in there?” he asked in a tone that suggested he would be doing an about-face if I said anything resembling ‘yes.’

“No, just…the amount of people. I couldn’t handle it,” I said.

He lost the ‘choose your fighter’ stance. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t go to clubs that often,” I said. “Sometimes I can handle ridiculous crowds and sometimes I can’t. I tend to avoid them in general; I don’t really like people that close if I can help it.”

“Oh,” he said and I knew what he was about to do, so I tugged his shirt just as he tried to step to the side.

“Don’t,” I said. “It’s strangers I don’t like; you’re fine.”

“Oh,” he said, and he sounded so pleased that I had to look.

His smile matched his tone and was so sweet that I smiled too. “What?” I asked him.

“Nothing,” he said. But he couldn’t help himself for long. “People say I’m imposing.”

“People who don’t know you’re just a giant dork.”

“Most people.”

“So only…” I did a quick estimate, “…Maybe ten people know what a dork you are?” Because there weren't that many Avengers, right?

“More like you, Sam, and Natasha.”

Okay, there were definitely more Avengers than that. “What about your other friends?” Or maybe that was the problem. “Co-workers?” Did Avengers get paid? “…Teammates?”

Steve flashed me a bemused smile. “Do your co-workers know what a dork you are?”

“More than I like,” I admitted. “But it’s always only ever a matter of time.”

“Well, we don’t…” He shrugged. “They’re all busy; they have jobs, partners; lives. We train sometimes, and Coulson wrangles us in sometimes for a group dinner.”

“So they’ve met you more than once and still don’t know you’re a dweeb?”

He shifted. “What time is it?”

“We’re already heading back.” I wrapped both of my arms around one of his. “You can walk me.”

“Are you trying to make sure you can charge me for the full hour?” he asked dryly but didn’t try to shake me off.

“There’s not enough money in the world to make me your therapist.” I gave his arm one good squeeze and let go. “We’re just two friends, shooting the shit. Or I guess we can talk shit, if you want, but I’ll have no idea who you’re talking about.”

He laughed a little. “No, I don’t– they’re all good people, and I wish I knew them better,” he admitted and we came to a stop. “But we’re different people, so it’s slow. But it’s fine.”

“Hm.”

He smiled at me and then nodded forward. At my building. “Have a nice day at work.”

I snorted. “Thanks, honey.” But that sounded so weird we both cracked up.

“How is the job, though? Is it good?” he asked.

“I do my job, I get paid.” I shrugged. “That’s all I really care about. So in that sense, yeah. It’s good.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s working out,” he said. There was a slight buzzing and I felt over my pocket, just in case, but he pulled out his phone and I caught a brief look at a vaguely familiar logo lit up on the screen. Steve sighed and looked at me like he was already tired. “This is probably something.”

I nodded and stepped back to give him some space. “Be safe. I’ll check out some places while you’re gone.”

“I can’t wait to try them out,” he said, saluted, and ran off.

Dork. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day, and eventually gave in and texted him.

Me: If you come back hurt I’m dragging you to that stupid doggy coffee shop. In a cowboy hat. Steve: Consider me bulletproof Steve: Going dark. See you soon

He had better, I thought, and went back to work with what little focus I could manage to scrounge up.

~

I tried a couple of places but neither of them were all that great and I had to admit to myself that my heart wasn’t in it. I checked the news but didn’t see anything Steve might have been involved with, and that just made me more anxious, so I did everything I could think of to distract myself. Steve was a loser but he had a good reputation for a reason, so I had to trust that Captain America would handle his shit so that my friend could come home.

About a week after he had run off, I was stretching at my desk in the mid-morning when I got a text.

Steve: Hi Steve: Back home

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Me: Good Me: Hale and hearty and healthy? Steve: Perfectly fine Steve: :) Steve: Find a new lunch place yet?

I sighed for an entirely different reason.

Me: Knocked some places out Me: There was a tea/coffee place that had promise Me: But I can never snag a fucking table Me: Also it’s so fluorescent it hurts my eyes. Steve: Okay Morticia

I smiled and sent him a line of thumbs up emojis. I looked nothing like, but as far as my overall personality and aesthetic, that felt like a nice compliment that required some thanks.

Steve: I have an idea

He then sent me an address, which I looked up, and…okay?

Me: A bookstore?

Not that I was complaining, but it looked like a small second-hand shop and showed no sign of having anything but books.

(I made a note to myself to check it out on the weekend, though.)

Steve: Trust me Me: Okay Me: Is 11 okay? Got meetings this afternoon Steve: Okay Steve: I’ll meet you there Me:  :) Steve: ?! Steve: A smile?! Me: Shut up Me: B O O K S Steve: Okay Belle

I laughed. Jerk.

~

I got there about five minutes early and he still managed to be waiting. Despite being his usual self, he also managed to blend in well enough that when I first scanned the street I almost missed him. He was slouched against the wall, and when I did a double-take he pushed off the brick and walked towards me.

I couldn’t help but look him over. He looked good. Satisfied. “Do I pass inspection?” he asked jokingly.

“Meh,” I decided and looked around. The shop itself even blended into that same wall, a true hidden gem I couldn’t wait to get my sticky fingers all over.

“You still have to go back to work,” Steve reminded me as he opened the door.

“And I can’t buy books if I have no money,” I said and sighed. In the shop, though, small and crowded with books, inhaling brought in that familiar thick and slightly musty scent, but it wasn’t overwhelming, and was that a hint of new I smelled? Ah; there was a bargain bin of unsold Barnes and Noble refugees. Also…there was, in fact, coffee. Somewhere. I scanned what I could see but saw no sign of anything coffee-related, not even a cup at the cash register. I turned to Steve to ask, but he was covering the lower half of his face with both hands as his shoulders shook and his eyes gliste– was he crying?

Not quite, but close enough, and I put my hands on my hips while he calmed down, but even calmed down his smile was big and wide and made him look like a complete doofus. It was my new favorite expression. Not that I’d ever tell him. “What?”

“You, treating a bookstore like a sommelier treats wine,” he said, chuckling.

Oh. I had said that…out loud. I ducked my head, but it didn’t feel like he was making fun of me; he sounded fond, and that made it better when nudged me. “It was cute,” he said and started moving. “Come on.”

I followed behind, past piles of books and through shelves that almost reached the ceiling. We popped out of the aisle into a little corner pocket that hosted some arm chairs and side tables and the smallest coffee cart I had ever seen. It stuck out next to a wall and a curtain-covered opening, behind which there was a sound of clanking dishes. The people populating the seats were almost all elderly, aside from one balding businessman, and I smirked at Steve.

He rolled his eyes like I didn’t have to say it. Good, because it was quieter than a library and we piped down accordingly. He pointed to an empty set of cozy chairs and I followed the gesture to claim the seats while he went to the tiny counter. Nearby a couple of people argued in low voices. When I heard “writes like shit” I tried to eavesdrop, but Steve came back with two mismatched ceramic mugs filled with steaming hot coffee and sat down in the other chair, blocking them.

“Thanks.” The smell was great and I just sat with cup in hand, inhaling, for several seconds. Until I caught sight of Steve, staring at me and smiling like the Mona Lisa. I hid my mouth with the cup and took a sip. It was really good. I set it on the small table between us and said softly, “You look pretty pleased with yourself.”

“Do I?” he asked just as softly, his smile unwavering.

I looked around the room where all conversation had died in favor of reading. I held up my phone to Steve in warning and then started to text.

Me: Maybe not an everyday place Me: But a good option if we don’t feel chatty

He smiled wider at me. And stayed that way. I tilted my head in a silent ‘what?’ and he shook his head, but he texted back.

Steve: I like that it’s an option Steve: That we’re comfortable enough to sit quietly together Steve: It’s nice

It wasn’t like this was the first time we had ever sat in silence together, but he seemed to be having a good moment so I refrained from pointing that out.

Me: It is nice Me: But I think you just like getting me to shut up Steve: That’s just a bonus

And an angel emoji. The bastard.

Me: There has never been a more poorly matched emoji to person than that to you

He responded by sending three lines of them and I had to suffocate myself to keep from disturbing the peace.

Me: I hate you

He flashed me a brilliant smile. It had a dorky undertone though, so I knew it was genuine.

Steve: No you don’t

No, I didn’t. And shame on me for ever letting him know that. Still, he had done good with his find, and the coffee was excellent, so I let him be a self-satisfied little shit. For the moment.

~

I was running late.

Granted, it was my own lunch break and it wasn’t like I had to cut it short, but it was annoying. I was meeting Steve at the crummy Starbucks and he had mentioned having things to do that afternoon, and I hated being held up on my breaks. Especially by stupid people.

As soon as I stepped in I scanned the place for Steve. I didn’t see him at first but when I checked again I saw him in our usual corner. Talking to somebody else.

It didn’t look like when he was talking to a fan; it looked like he was having a meeting, with a woman in a nice suit, whose strawberry blonde hair was so perfectly brushed I ran my hand over my own head in reflex.

Steve lifted his head, saw me, smiled, and waved for me to come over. The woman turned her head to watch me approach, which I did. Slowly.

“Hi,” I said to him, trying not to glance at her and failing. “Should I…go somewhere else for now?”

“No, we’re just–” Steve stood up so fast he hit the table and made it jump. He caught it with both hands and set it down gently so his coffee didn’t spill. He smiled sheepishly at his tablemate. “Sorry Pepper.”

“It’s all right,” she replied with some amusement, travel container in hand. She set it back down and then extended her hand to me. “Pepper Potts.”

I introduced myself and shook her hand. Hopefully that was a good amount of pressure– I never knew if I was doing it right. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you too,” she said and let go. “Steve says good things.”

Steve talked about me? I shorted out for a second, wondering what he could possibly have to say, and he shifted. “We’re just finishing up,” he said. “I’ll tell you about it after.”

“Okay, I–” I stopped when I saw the raised eyebrow Pepper was aiming at Steve. “Not okay?”

“No, it’s okay.” Steve smiled reassuringly at Pepper. “She’s the one I told. First.”

“Oh.” Then Pepper aimed her look at me, both eyebrows raised.

I had no idea what to make of that. “I’ll just…go get something to drink?”

“Good luck,” Steve said and I rolled my eyes but I left them alone. I got a simple iced coffee, since the staff couldn’t be bothered to figure out how to properly use a fucking blender. At least this time my ice chunks would be expected.

When I got back, she was gone. I felt a little bad for how much that relaxed me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said as I sat down.

“You weren't. Pepper and I were going to meet later but apparently something came up, so she tracked me down,” Steve said, fidgeting with his cup.

I looked around. No one. I turned back to Steve and scooted closer. “So you’re…gonna go for it?”

He bobbed his head. “We’re planning it now.” He sat back and tried to smile, but it was a nervous expression. “Whether I like it or not, it’s going to be a…thing. So we’re trying to make it less daunting.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’ve got help,” I said.

“Yeah.” His smile grew more solid. “I’ve got good people around.”

“Good. That’s good,” I said. Steve kept staring at me though, with that smile. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“No I’m not.” He took a swig of his plain hot coffee– about the only drink we were absolutely certain they could manage here– and nodded at my drink. “How was your roll of the dice today?”

I took a sip. It was actually perfect. That wasn’t too terribly surprising since I had added the cream myself, but pleasant all the same. “Nat 20.”

He frowned. I grinned. “Are you ready for the next reference you can drop to make your friend Tony’s head explode?”

Steve leaned in, eager and ready to learn.

~

The next time we got together, Steve proudly played me his new ringtone, which consisted of a man screeching “Where did you learn that?!” and a burst of laughter, loud but cut short by the end of the recording.

I held my face in my hands. I was still laughing. “You are such a jerk.”

“Thanks, your Highness.” I could hear the smile in his voice. I didn’t know whether to be proud of my creation, or terrified. Maybe both.

“…Play it again.”

He did so, happily.

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

[delicateheartstranger]

March 16, 2020

Dear world,

This has been started actually on the 15th, but since it will take awhile to write out everything I will mark it the 16th. 

So here begins my crappy 2000s movie start of a blog. Unlike the movies where at some point my blog will blow up and my life will take either a turn for the worse or better I have nothing to fear because that was barely realistic even back then. Since I wanna make sure though just in case any chance someone who knows me finds this I will not state my name. I’ll tell ya’ll this, I’m 19 years old and will be 20 in October, I like fandom shit, I’m trans, I’m pan, I wish I could go back and kill baby Hitler so I would never be born and no ww2, I’m in love with one my best friends, I have feelings for a guy I met online that lives in Norway while I’m stuck in the U.S., I suffer from ptsd/depression/anxiety/a fuck ton of just not being mentally stable, live at home with my parents right now, have no job, most of my close friends are toxic, and I have no privacy.

I was at college for a few month, but then a bunch of things happened and I had to drop out. When I came back home my parents I feel resented me a bit for not being stable enough to stay at that college (they loved it and want to send me back) so now my home life became a lot worse. I’m in a php program currently so even if it weren’t for the fact that my parents would rather roll over dead than have me work (earn money to get the fuck out) I can’t get one since most conflict with time. I’m 19 and only ever held one real job because my parents claim the house needs to be clean before I can work. I’m not the only one who lives here, but okay. Also I would make less messes if I wasn’t home. Top it off it’s like “we don’t want you working for other people before you do the work you owe us at home.” They have this whole family first idea, but the thing is I don’t feel a part of the family. They decided I had no say when I was younger when moving far from home, I wasn’t a part of it enough to get attention while my brother was sick, I wasn’t a part of it enough for them not to judge me to the point where I quit lots of things I loved just so they’d stop hurting me, I wasn’t enough a part of it that they would do things for me that would be what “family” does.

So yes I will put myself aka my mental health first because you guys never will. Because of the Corona outbreak my area has been quarantined. It means 2 weeks no school (wasn’t enrolls), no physical php, less people in public, and that good old shit. Thing is now my parents are trying to force my brother who’s off in college to come back home AND not let me see my friends physically while locking me up in our home. The most I can do if I wanna leave is go for a walk for like 30 minutes near our house. I hate walking as it just riles me up ever more and brings back bad memories of my parents forcing me to. They tried super hard when I was younger to walk the fat off me. Worked like a charm, said no one. If anything the many years of fat shaming made me gain weight as they didn’t get me a therapist, didn’t think I was depressed, didn’t let me take meds, and all I had was eating to comfort me. So yeah I’m basically trapped in my own house. I think I may fuck up. I’ve been around a month or two clean of self harm, but I know that will change in these coming weeks if I am forced to stay here alone with my folks and brother.

I usually have passive SI and SH thoughts, but within this weekend I’ve had so many that I was close to acting on them. They’ve gotten to the level of overwhelming that it’s like I’m back in 11th grade again. Which by the way, found out one my few friends from that time tried to MURDER my other friend (who is a bit newer, but still) is living in a house for people with murderous tendencies. So that’s just peachy. Oh another friend from high school has a brain tumor which probably will kill him and it makes me super sad even though we haven’t talked in years. I am currently upset about my life choices of who I made friends with.

My three best friends would be LM, DW, and LL. 

LL is a friend I made in my third high school. He’s kinda going through lots of shit right now. He used to realize that he couldn’t drink and that he could only smoke in small amounts. Now he’s back on his bs. He’s also having unsafe sex with strangers he met on tinder. Now it’s find to fuck around. Go live your best life. But if you are having unsafe sex that’s a problem. He is constantly having pregnancy scares (he’s trans). All of this while on the fact that when he’s not too fucked up he’s like kinda self center. I told him like the other night when he was doing better that I was feeling really down given some shit I got for being fat, but I was fine talking. This man goes ahead and spends the whole time talking about all these stories about himself and doesn’t let me speak for like the whole time. And he was like on this thing about how I need to do something, but he never got there. Don’t tell me how to self improve when you’re in a worse state than me. 

Then there is DW. I’ve been in love with him since middle school. We met at this outside of school after school activity. I fell hard. When I first confessed to him he didn’t really speak to me and avoided me for about a year. Then we became friends again due to weird grouping things at that after school activity. Irony was I was trying to get into the group he wasn’t in so I would lose my feelings. Then after we got close again I confessed my feelings, again. Some how that made us best friends? I mean I’m glad he didn’t cut me off again don’t get me wrong, but it just wasn’t what I was expecting. Now here’s some hard shit. About almost a year ago over the summer (2019) we were talking about my weird love life. You see I still tried to date outside of him. Can’t keep going after something that won’t happen. Then I asked about his love life as it’d been like months since I brought it up directly with him. Turns out he’d been dating a girl for almost a YEAR. He just “forgot” to tell me. I understand he could’ve been worried about my feelings, but I’m more hurt that he hid something that big away from me and lied about it too. We’re supposed to be best friends. Course I don’t wanna hear about how he fucks her or whatever. I just wanna be there for him. And so now I’m getting a taste of my own medicine. He is talking about her. How they go on dates, how they had a dear valentines day date, how he cares about her, how she even was in the same php program as me. I wanna fucking strangle her. She used to be my friend, but we grew apart. Then of course I find out that she’s dating the love of my life. Cool. Worst is when me and him are texting and she has the NERVE to try and talk to me. I don’t ever wanna speak to her again. I will if it makes DW happy, but for my sanity and her life I will avoid that. She’s a fine person, props forgot about me and my feelings for him, and doesn’t deserve the utter rage I hold for her. That don’t change it though. All of this on top the fact we’ve been distantly lately. I noticed about like 5 months ago how I was always the one texting DW and that started our convos. How I was the one putting in effort. So I started to text less. He only about 5 times started the conversations. It was over memes and reply to my general instagram stories. I’ve given up and realized if I want him in my life have to do the texting. I won’t let him go anymore. I’ve tried in the past, it don’t help anything. No matter what I try I need him and even if it’s bad for me it’s no worse than not having him.

Now we are on my closest and most toxic best friend. LM. LM I also met in my third high school. She was kind and charismatic. Thing is she is unstable, manipulative, controlling, hurtful, and just really toxic to me. She’s the alpha of the friend group I’m in with her. She can hurt me so much. I’ve tried taking breaks from her in the past, but when that happens she gets angry. She tried in these times to ruin my reputation. She has so much dirt on me. Top it off she lies like crazy and people just like, believe her? The only ones who have been able to see through her shit would be: Me, LL, and MA. That’s it. Not even her own sister can, least she doesn’t show it. It’s shit like, let’s say I was embarrassed by something and felt bad. LM would say I sobbed over it and yeah. Or she also just full on lies about me doing or saying something. It’s too the point where she’s said things about me that could get me in legal trouble if she told some authority figure and they believed her. Like she claims one time that I was about to drug one my crushes if she wasn’t there to stop me and that I masturbated with his jacket when he left the room in his closet. Yes I’m not proud of it, but when I was in a bad head space I thought about the idea/fantasy of having him take horny pills that SHE showed me and offered me. I did also once smell up my crush’s jacket in the closet. Not proud of it at all. I wasn’t stable and wasn’t thinking in my right mind. Doesn’t make what I did okay, but I did not do anything that would be as fucked as she claimed. Sometimes with that old crush she’ll bring it up saying straight up lies like I went to his house. Never did. Did find my crush on white pages (again not okay, but I wasn’t healthy), but never went anywhere near him outside of our setting. So yeah if I cut her off or just take a break she could realllly ruin my life given everyone believes ever word she says. All of that and I’m still a bit bitter over her manipulating a situation where me, her, and a few friends had a crush on the same guy. She lied saying she didn’t have feelings for him. She told us to confess and when we were like ‘idk not to ready for that’ she went ahead and did it for us. He didn’t like us back which is valid. But then she got really handsy and did things that basically helped him fall for her. Now I don’t have feelings for him anymore. If I do imma just push em away given he wouldn’t be good for me. But they constantly do things now as a couple that feel like an invasion on my being. THEY HAD SEX WITH THE DOOR SLIGHTLY OPEN IN THE ROOM NEXT TO ME ONLY TO LIE STRAIGHT TO MY FACE. So they couldn’t see I’d woken up. I was facing the door and they were full on sex. Like I heard the moans. I heard it all. I knew they were fucking. So when they finished and went to wake me up I pretended to be asleep. Then later that day I brought it up to my friend CS (her boyfriend/ex crush) I thought they were having sex cause I could heard them in my dream, he lied to my face saying I was crazy. Straight up gas lighting tactics LM would use. This isn’t the first time they tried that. Even when I was with someone and we both were like yeah we heard ya’ll having sex they denied it and said we were crazy. Like please just don’t fuck when there are others around or at least have the decency to do it where we can’t hear/wake up from it.

All of this said about each one I love them all dearly. And it’s hard the idea of losing them. It’s just so shitty dealing with all their shit on top of my own. 

Now the worse thing happening right now that I can’t even talk to a friend about it that I got my new name outed. So my parents are transphobic, but diet transphobic. Like they “support” trans rights yet do really transphobic things.I came out to them a few months ago and not a SINGLE time have they used the right pronouns. Then when bringing up trans things they have shot me down claiming xyz. I just wanna be me, but the same time I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. At my php program I go by my chosen name. I told all the staff my situation at home yet the nurse managed to fuck up when emailing and wrote in an email that was attached to my parents my chosen name. So great my parents probably know something is up. I’m gonna fucking cry if they hurt me more. They already invalidate me on so many things I can’t stand the idea of them doing so on something so close and core to my identity. They do it with everything else and most things core to who I am. I had one safe space and the nurse had to fuck it up for me. I just can’t fucking deal with all this.

Top it off the one good person in my life, ESK hasn’t spoken to me in about 3 days now. ESK is someone I met online who lives in Europe. He’s genuinely the only good thing in my life. The only non toxic source of happiness. He brings me so much joy. I’m pretty sure he also has feelings for me or had them at one point. He’s 2 years younger than me and is turning 18 soon. I wanna get him a gift, but not only would that be weird, but he also hates celebrating his birthday. So I’ll just wish him a happy birthday when it comes around. Regardless I might not even be able to since he hasn’t responded in awhile. He has some serious health problems so I am worried he could be really sick. That or he’s angry at me/hates me/doesn’t wanna talk anymore. It could be just my anxiety, but the same time it could be true. I hate that I can’t tell. I can’t even talk to any of my bffs about it since they’ll all be super judgmental. Maybe DW, but even then it’d be hard. I just wanna make sure ESK is okay. He means the world to me. I don’t want to lose him. This is all happening after we both showed full face selfies of ourselves in our last convos. I hope he doesn’t think I’m ugly. It’d break my heart into toooooo many pieces if my looks scared him away or made him lose his romantic feelings for me. It’s not like we could date rn as not only are we an ocean away, but I’m far to emotionally unstable to. But hey that won’t matter if he drops off the face of the earth.

Lastly before I go I wanna talk about this girl in my php program who is legit making me crazy. We will call her LLL. She looks and acts just like my first crush, but if she’d grown up. The only difference is her eye color, age, and where she’s from. She isn’t her, but boy that doesn’t stop my lizard brain. I feel like a piece of trash whenever my eyes wander over her more revealing parts. It’s bad to objectify women and bad that I’m placing this role on her. Plus I’m like 90% sure she’s straight and like 60% she has a thing for a guy in our php group (who is much hotter than me). It’s just so hard since I lost my crush via my abusive grandma. It was her fault I didn’t wake up in time (I was 9) which meant I never got her number. I remember my heart sinking seeing her wave good bye to me from her car window as she drove off. I never really got over her as I just repressed any sense of being not cis het. I only really realized what I had for her was more than “wanting to be bffs” like a year or two ago. Still haven’t had the proper therapy to undo all my baggage. I really hope she hasn’t realized that my eyes linger on her just a little too long or that my feet are always pointing towards her. I want it to be a safe space for her.

SO yeah. That’s like 2% of my life rn plus 1% back story. You guys can tell I say like, so, and ya’ll a tad too much. I don’t know what to do and I have to wake up at 7. If anyone sees this I hope you can give me advice before it’s too late.

Yours cordially,

A.

[lovelylanden]

Hitman

Where Elliot is a hitman and gets himself into a sticky situation. 

Note: This was a lot of fun to write !! I wish the Mr. Robot fandom wasn’t so small. The show is very underrated when it reality it’s woke as hell and deserves more recognition. Plus Rami is in it, of course. That’s always a plus. Much love and enjoy x 

Word count: 2.8k

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Mud soaked through the dark canvas of his shoes and Elliot grits his teeth but keeps moving, hood masking his sharp features, the tension of his jaw and redness rimming his eyes. The gun felt heavy on his belt, easily concealed as he treks forward, faster now but still several paces behind his target, close enough to keep him in view but far enough away not to attract attention. Killing Terry Colby would be easy. Being the CTO at E-Corp meant his ego was bloated, he knew that he was important, blinded by the fact but unaware that he had a target on his back. 

If Elliot managed to kill Colby--which he knew with great confidence that he would--he would get paid handsomely. This wasn’t his first time working for Tyrell Wellick and knew the man would hold up his end of the deal. He had a lot to lose; a wife and child, his reputation, all of which Elliot could destroy without as much as a second thought. Elliot had made sure Tyrell was aware of this; if Tyrell tried any funny business at all, Elliot would expose him, would make it impossible for him to recover. 

The air was cold as it bit at his skin but Elliot blocks out the numbness of his face, the stiffness of his fingers. The sun wouldn’t rise for hours yet and the fact that Colby was combing the empty streets of New York alone was an unexpected treat. It would without a doubt make his job easier. Elliot picks up his pace, sliding slightly on the mud that had begun to congeal with the chilling autumn weather. It was on the cusp of winter now, stuck in the sort of in between that Elliot despised. 

Terry continues at a slow pace, lax as he sips on a coffee and whistles without a care in the world. Despite the fact that he had a highly trained assassin trailing him. 

The alleyway they’re about to pass seemed almost too perfect but Elliot doesn’t question it as he follows close behind him and pulls him into the darkness, pressing him up against the brick with a forearm to his throat. The man screams with surprise but Elliot is quick to muffle the sound with his palm, hissing with pain when Colby bites into his flesh, harsh and desperate. There’s an unpleasant, pungent smell that fills the air and when Elliot looks down, he finds Terry had pissed himself, overcome with fear. 

Elliot cocks his gun, the cool metal heavy in his palm and presses the gun to Colby’s forehead before pulling the trigger. There’s only a faint buzzing noise, the shock of the bullet muffled by the silencer he had attached earlier that morning but Elliot’s own blood roars in his ears, quieting it further. He feels the warmth of blood splatter on his neck and cringes but otherwise doesn’t move. He can only take him in when he’s sure he had stopped breathing.

An eerie sort of silence washes over him and Elliot grimaces, hiding the body the best he can before going two blocks down to the car Wellick had promised to leave. When Elliot makes it back to the site, he pulls the car as close into the alley as he could dare and throws Colby’s body into the trunk before wiping his blood stained hands on his pants and makes his way to the arcade. Wellick would be waiting there and Elliot was eager to rid the body and get his pay. 

He’s glad the sun was yet to rise as he pulls into a parking space and carries Colby’s body through the entrance. Elliot finds Tyrell sitting beside the skeeball lanes, looking anxious and watches his face go paper white when he takes in Terry’s body. “What?” Elliot mutters, dropping the body like a sack of potatoes, the thud loud in the empty silence. “Take a good look before I burn his body,” He continues, prying the dried blood from beneath his fingernails. 

Tyrell stumbles forward, a green tint taking over the stark white and Elliot merely grimaces once he turns and gets sick a few feet away. “He’s...” Tyrell trails off and Elliot rolls his eyes now, quickly becoming irritated. 

“Dead? Yes, that’s what happens when you hire a hitman,” Elliot says with a sort of venom that has Tyrell flinching back. “Now hand over my pay. I need to get rid of this body and would like to do so before the sun rises,” 

Tyrell swallows loudly, eyes wide and hands over a wad of cash, watching as Elliot undoes the band and counts it before him. If Tyrell had shorted him, things wouldn’t end well. After counting it twice, Tyrell sighs with relief when Elliot nods with approval. “Alright,” Elliot says, shrugging as he pockets the money. “Get out of here, unless you want to watch,” He holds a grim smile that has Tyrell shuddering with unease and he says nothing as he backs away from him. 

Tyrell didn’t want to witness Elliot burning Terry Colby’s body, didn’t want to smell the bitter tang of melting flesh. The sight alone was enough to haunt him for weeks so he leaves Elliot to it. He had Elliot’s contact information, the number of a burner phone Elliot would undoubtedly trash within the next few days. If Tyrell didn’t see him again before then, he knew the chances of coming in contact with him was unlikely and that bothers him more than he’d like to admit. 

***

“Shit,” Elliot grits his teeth, waves of pain washing over his abdomen and limps over to the arcade, thankfully not far off with his hands pressed to his stomach as black dots dance across his vision. He takes his phone out, that shitty burner he had bought three days before and calls the one person he can think of as he tries to steady his breathing. 

“Elliot?” Tyrell murmurs with surprise. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Elliot chokes. “Where are you right now?” 

“At home,” Tyrell says instantly but his voice is hushed, still heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need you to meet me at the arcade. Bring rubbing alcohol, gauze, a lighter, a pair of needle nose pliers and a metal butter knife,” He instructs, words muddled. 

“What—“ 

“Just do it,” Elliot snaps. “And hurry up,” He hangs up the phone then, applying more pressure to his stomach and tries to ignore the warmth of his own blood on his hands. It bothered him more than anyone else’s blood did; the blood of his enemies was of his own cause but the sight of his own, injured by an outsider caused nausea to rise up in his throat. Elliot had been trailing his next client, a younger, lower ranked associate at E-Corp who had managed to turn the tables on Elliot, bringing out a gun of his own and shooting him with barely a glance. 

Adrenaline ran like acid through his veins and Elliot fights hard to steady his breathing. Panicking wouldn’t solve anything but the fact that his vision had begun to tunnel only worsened his anxiety. 

The door to the arcade opens with a squeal and Elliot takes Tyrell in; he was holding all that he had asked, looking confused but goes paper white at the sight of his blood soaked shirt. “Elliot what the fuck,” He hisses, coming to his side.

He didn’t have time to explain, only rids himself of his shirt and takes the knife, lighter, pliers and alcohol from him. Tyrell watches as Elliot disinfects the tools, then his wound and grits his teeth to keep from gagging as he watches Elliot dig into the wound before pulling out the bullet he had been hunting for. “Fuck me,” Elliot whispers with a grimace before disinfecting his wound once again. 

When Elliot begins to heat the knife with the lighter, tinged with black but not quite red hot, Tyrell’s eyes widen. “What’re you doing?” He yelps.

“I have to cauterize the wound,” Elliot mutters, not looking up at him. “It’s too deep for it to clot on its own and I’d probably need stitches but there’s no way in hell I’m going to the hospital so this is my best bet,”

Tyrell looked close to passing out himself and he has to steady himself on the pinball machine, not sure he could believe his eyes as he watches Elliot press the knife to the injury in short bursts, as if he had done it dozens of times before and maybe he had. “Holy shit,” He mutters but can’t help but gag this time at the smell of burning flesh. It was the exact thing he had avoided days before when Elliot had killed Terry Colby and yet Tyrell found this so much worse.

“Hand me the gauze,” Elliot chokes and Tyrell does, barely managing to look in his direction as he takes it, hands soaked dark with drying blood. Once Elliot had wrapped up the wound, he sighs, relieved but winces at the pain that still remained. He limps over to the popcorn machine, opening up the popper and Tyrell’s eyes widen with surprise when Elliot pulls out a small baggy of off white powder. He had a hunch that Elliot had been on some sort of drug but opiates? That would’ve been his last guess. 

“Thank you,” Elliot mutters after doing two lines for good measure. 

Tyrell can’t help but shake himself out with confusion. What in the ever living fuck was happening right now? “Are you going to be okay?” He asks, the only thing he can come up with and watches Elliot nod sluggishly.

“I’ll be fine,” He promises, running a hand through his hair before shrugging his shirt back on. 

Tyrell was relieved to see colour was beginning to return to Elliot’s face. He looks down at the shirt he wore, a medium grey stained crimson and grimaces before shrugging off the hoodie he wore, a last minute decision when he rushed out the door to meet him and says, “Take this. It wouldn’t be very smart to walk around Queens in a bloody shirt,” The sarcasm is thick in his tone and Elliot rolls his eyes but takes it nonetheless.

“See you around, Wellick,” Elliot says simply, as if they had just been discussing the weather and Tyrell’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. 

“That’s it?” He whispers, eyes wide as he watches Elliot pull the hood over his face, looking nearly unbothered. “You’re just going to go?”

“Did you... need anything else from me?” Elliot asks, sounding just as confused. 

“No, I just—“ 

“Then I need to get going,” Elliot shrugs. “My client is going to be pissed I let him go and I need to find him before shit can hit the fan,” 

“Shit hasn’t already hit the fan?” Tyrell asks incredulously and Elliot shakes his head with the slightest smile. 

“Shit would hit the fan if I were dead,” Elliot says, zipping up his hoodie and turning his back to him. 

“Are you sure you should be going out to find that guy after you just got shot?” Tyrell whispers, uncertain. 

Elliot sighs and when he turns toward Tyrell again, he finds him frowning deeply. “If I don’t, the consequences of letting him free will be worse off,” He says simply and doesn’t give Tyrell the chance to respond before he leaves the arcade.

Tyrell stands there, buzzing with confusion as he watches Elliot limp out before the door screeches behind him and he disappears. He knew he shouldn’t leave Elliot to fend for himself but wouldn’t be much help in any case. He didn’t know the first thing about killing anyone and the sight of blood made him queasy and yet... he couldn’t bare to leave him alone. 

Tyrell leaves the arcade after making what could be the most foolish decision of his life. He finds Elliot barely outside of the parking lot and trails him, a few feet back. Tyrell knew Elliot was still on cloud nine, morphine settling deep in his blood so he would be the last thing on Elliot’s mind. 

They’re walking for hours and Tyrell couldn’t help but be the slightest bit impressed at Elliot’s stamina given the fact that he had been shot earlier that night. They stop in front of a shitty motel 6 and Elliot strides in confident as ever. The front desk is abandoned so Elliot walks behind it, looking through the clientele sheet and finds his target’s room and makes his way there. Tyrell is barely able to trail him without giving himself away but manages, sighing with relief when Elliot stops in front of one of the first few rooms, crouching down to pick the lock. Once it clicks, a muffled sound in the silence, Elliot physically relaxes, looking relieved. 

He walks into the hotel room, gun raised and painted with his own blood but he pays it little mind as he walks further into the room. He finds the man asleep on the pull out couch, hand over his eyes and Elliot grins, taking aim before pulling the trigger. 

His death was quick and Elliot grits his teeth, bitter. He wished that the man would’ve suffered, given what he had done to him but knew this was for the best. He takes his phone out and calls the agency he worked with, a secret government corporation who often took care of the bodies and gives them a run down as quickly as he can. “And hurry,” Elliot snaps into the receiver, holding his side which had begun to ache all over again. “It’s been a long night and I don’t feel like waiting,”

Elliot moves toward the doorway, frowning at the door which was left ajar. He had closed it when he had come in. Tyrell doesn’t have the chance to hide before Elliot spots him, heart racing with fear. “Damn it,” He hisses, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Tyrell watches as Elliot puts his gun in his belt, hiding it under the hoodie he still wore and tries to work his tongue to form any sort of explanation but comes up empty. “I—“ 

“You wanted to snoop,” Elliot cuts in, voice sharp. “What was the point in that? Wanted to watch me kill someone, did you?” 

“No, I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I told you I would be,” Elliot snaps, moving forward and pushing him out of the way, locking the door before pulling Tyrell toward the hotel exit. “We need to get out of here before they show up,” He mutters. 

“Who?” Tyrell asks, confused and Elliot rolls his eyes with irritation. 

“The corporation I work with. They take care of the bodies so the murder doesn’t get traced back to me. My boss would’ve had my head if I hadn’t gone through with this mission, that’s why I was so desperate to make sure I got it done,” He explains as they walk back out into the cool night air. 

“But I’m the one who contacted you,” Tyrell says with furrowed eyebrows. “I didn’t contact any sort of corporation to get to you,” 

“I take cases like yours into my own hands,” Elliot says simply. “I like the pay people like you give and I know how to get rid of bodies myself. I just don’t like to,” His voice was even as he spoke, sounding calm as they walk across the hotel parking lot. A black Escalade pulls up beside them and Elliot nods at the man who rolls down a tinted window. “A17,” He says before he and Tyrell continue on. 

“Where are we going?” He asks softly and Elliot sighs, pulling the hood up over his face. 

“I’m going home. I don’t give a shit where you go,” He shoves his hands into the pockets and sighs with frustration when Tyrell continues walking at his side. “What?” He snaps, finally losing his temper. 

“I... I don’t want to be left alone,” Tyrell murmurs, looking down at his hands. 

“You have a wife and kid. Go back to them,” 

“They’re not home,” Tyrell lies quickly, unsure why he was doing so. Maybe it was the fact that it wasn’t exactly him who wanted company. He had a feeling it was Elliot who didn’t want to be alone. 

“I know a good barbecue place not far from here,” Elliot says eventually. “Want to get something to eat?” 

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto Tyrell’s face and he nods, finally looking up at him. “I’d like that,” He admits and the silence that falls over them not long after is more comforting than not. Tyrell finds a sort of beauty in it.

#tyrelliot #tyrelliot one shot #mr robot #elliot alderson #tyrell wellick #elliotxtyrell #tyrellxelliot