hretoprvdthepltnx - Tumblr blog

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

To the person who just sent me that request about parental figures Aziraphale and Crowley with a kid with bad anxiety...

As someone who has had horrible anxiety their whole life, this is the best idea anyone has ever fed me, and I am honored to be writing this for you. I'm slow as fuck because school has started back and I'm busy, but I can't wait to work on this for you. I'm probably going to prioritize it over work - which I know I'll regret later - because I'm so excited about this.

Anon with the big brain ideas.

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

"oh but your favorite shows are going to be delayed by the strikes" my favorite shows consistently get cancelled after 2 excellent seasons bc of the exploitive corporate greed that these strikes are fighting against

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

would you please write a fic where a young Eddie Munson realizes he's trans ftm? I headcanon him as trans, and a good chunk of the trans Eddie fanfic is smut unfortunately

Boys Will Be Boys

FtM!Eddie Munson

Summary: a short drabble featuring Eddie Munson's experience as a trans guy

Content: brief mentions of gender dysphoria, Uncle Wayne once again being an A++ parent, Eddie Munson is trans, brief discussion of sex related topics and masturbation,

Rating: 16+ for some sexual conversational themes || 3.1k+ w.

Eddie was lucky. He had moved in with Uncle Wayne at a young age, in a place where no one knew him, with a strong support system that allowed him to be exactly who he was. Eddie Munson was and had always been a boy. So what if he didn't have a dick? Uncle Wayne didn't care, he had told Eddie on multiple occasions that getting worked up over the genitals people did or didn't have was weird. Especially if they were kids, like his nephew.

He told him it didn't matter if his body was different, because all bodies are different, and that was okay. Eddie moved to Hawkins as a boy and being there, that is all that he has ever been. Only he and Uncle Wayne knew what was different and his uncle warned him that it was important to keep it that way. "Not everyone is as understanding," Wayne had told him, "People are cruel, Eddie. You know that." And he did.

When he was still really young, Eddie didn't have to worry about much. His body matched the bodies of all the other boys, for the most part, and so he'd always felt safe and like he belonged. It was when puberty started that things got a bit more difficult. Uncle Wayne had been able to find him puberty blockers to help him out with a few problems early on and then had found a way to start him on testosterone later once Eddie started mentioning wanting to try to grow facial hair and deepen his voice like the other boys his age.

By tenth grade, the only way anyone would have been able to tell that Eddie was trans would have been to take him to bed, and it's not like there were many people lining up to have sex with the resident freak. Eddie didn't always mind that though, it kept things simple. No sex meant no one found out about his secret and so it was easier to keep it that way. It was safer.

However, it made being a teenager more difficult sometimes than it might have been if he didn't have to hide or if he had been born with a penis. It was hard to relate to some of his friends sometimes, the other boys, because his experiences weren't always the same. They would talk about things like masturbation or unfortunately timed boners, and he would have to pretend to know what they meant or find a way to avoid the conversation all together.

After a while, Eddie felt that he had gotten pretty good at bullshitting his friends when the time was right, but he was still cautious of slip ups. He was paranoid he would say something that would give him away, it was like being an undercover agent, although arguably more stressful and less cool. There were times that he wished he could be honest with his friends and open up to them about his own experiences as a teenager rather than attempting to mimick theirs.

It wouldn't be until his third attempt at a senior year - when Eddie met and became friends with Steve, Robin, and Nancy - that he would be comfortable enough in himself and those around him to be able to do just that. Having queer friends really helped him come to terms with the validity of his identity and eventually he would feel comfortable enough with himself to tell the other members of his party and band who he really was.

Spoiler alert - they didn't care.

|| masterlist || navigation ||

story by hretoprvdthepltnx©

Eddie Munson copyrighted by the Duffer Brothers©

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

Sorry for the lack of posting, I was incredibly sick and even in the hospital getting fluids at one point. Everything is fine now and I'm feeling much better, so I'll try to be writing more. However, with school coming up we might be looking at a once-a-week schedule. Requests are open and I welcome the new ideas, thank you for your patience.

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

Hihi !! Before i request I just love your writing so much and I couldn’t resist to request this!!

Could I request a teen! Reader (angel) who’s sees crowley & aziraphale as their parental figures who is trying to make something nice for them?

The reader is super silly and innocent so like the stuff they make look like something else 💀

Handmade

Ineffable Husbands x teen!angel!reader

Summary: Y/n wants to do something special for their favorite angel/demon duo. So, they try their ethereal hand at the human art of crafting.

Content: y/n uses they/them pronouns, improper use of miracles,

Note: Anon, you're such an absolute sweetheart. I appreciate you so much. Unfortunately, I didn't realize what you meant by 'something else' until after but hopefully you still enjoy the fic.

Rating: 14+ || 500+ w.

Gifts were important. Gifts were a way of expressing profound love for an individual, at least that is what Aziraphale had taught you. Gifts meant a lot; they were a language all their own. Gifts meant I love you.

Gifts were hard.

You stared at the heaping pile of crafting utensils Maggie from the record shop had leant you. There were a lot of options and she had even been kind enough to make you a list of ideas, the only problem was that none of it seemed quite right for Aziraphale and Crowley.

You stared at the felt and the streamers and silently willed yourself to come up with an idea, but nothing happened. Sighing, you sat back with your shoulders pressing against the side of Aziraphale's desk. It was lucky that they were out, the sight of you sitting on the floor surrounded by confetti might raise an alarm. Or perhaps not, you were prone to floor sitting.

You tossed your head back against the leg of the table and the telephone jingled with the bang. Perhaps you should call her and ask for her help, but no, this was your idea, and it would make it even more special if you did it yourself. There had to be something you could make.

Your eyes drifted to a stray bottle of silver glitter and stayed there, staring with such mindless intensity it was a miracle the tension didn't cause the bottle to bust. Miracles. You could use a little miracle of your own right about now.

"Wait," you sat up too quickly, dizzying yourself, and snatched up the little plastic bottle of glitter. "If it's only a small miracle, and one for good, then I can't possibly get in trouble for it. And it's still like I'm making it myself, because I am." A smile stretched wide across your face, and you turned to the plant in the corner, "This is going to be perfect."

Hours later, when Crowley and Aziraphale arrived back at the bookshop, there was a notable difference to the building. That being because the entire inside of the bookshop had turned into a Victorian style ballroom. "Right, well...what's all this?" You beamed at the demon from where you stood in the center of the large room. "Suprise! It's a gift!"

Aziraphale's face went from something sad - which you had luckily missed - to something proud and beaming. "A gift, yes! And, oh, how wonderful!" Crowley didn't look quite as convinced. However, he perked up quite notably when the record player you had been fiddling with started to play Queen's Somebody to Love. You offered a hand to both fellow angel and the demon in front of you, "Care to dance?"

"Why certainly!" Aziraphale answered for the both of them, whatever complaint Crowley had been about to give died in his throat as he was yanked along. As you danced, you made a mental note to thank Maggie for the record next time you saw her. Perhaps you might even thank her with a gift.

|| masterlist || navigation ||

story by hretoprvdthepltnx©

Ineffable Husbands/Good Omens copyrighted by Neil Gaiman©

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

what an absolute mood

Would you rather explore the ocean or the outer space if you could do it safely?

I'd not be a great explorer in either the ocean or outer space. I'd like to explore libraries, if that's an option, though.

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

would you please write an ineffable husbands fic where they cook together (at Azeriphale's request of course)? It can regard or disregard season 2. Just please make it fluffy and cute

3 O'clock Breakfast

Ineffable Husbands x daughter-son!reader

Summary: Y/n stayed up late to finish the novel they were reading, and it ended sadder than they expected. Seeking out comfort in their Mother-Father, Aziraphale - a fellow book enthusiast, they didn't except him to insist upon a family Smile, Love breakfast at 3am. Their other parent isn't entirely pleased.

Content: hurt/comfort, reader is written as a teenager (can be older or younger but a teen nonetheless), tears over fiction are valid tears, Aziraphale is a sweetheart, Crowley is sour about having to get out of bed, the reader is Crowley and Aziraphale's biological child - don't ask me how that works, just sweet things with an ethereal family,

Rating: 14+ || 1.5k+ words

Their eyes burned with exhaustion and the salt of tears. Five minutes ago, they could barely stay awake - but it was only a couple more pages and they couldn't stop there, not with what was happening in the story. Now the book sat, upside down and offending, on the nightstand by their bed. The tears wouldn't stop, it was a numb sort of cry. They should have seen this coming. Everything was leading up to it they had just hoped...but no. They wanted their parents - someone they could rant to who would share in their grieving. They wanted Aziraphale. He was the one who recommended the stupid book to begin with. But they weren't mad, not really, just grieving and tired.

Sliding out of bed, they made the trek from their room to their parents' down the hall. They paused at the door to wipe their eyes and clear their airway with a sniffle, then gently pushed it open. "Are you guys awake?" They asked, feeling fresh tears block up in their throat at being so close to their parents. Why did it have to work that way? One second you think you've got yourself under control and then your parent speaks or shows up and suddenly you're crying again. The bedside lamp switched on and Aziraphale sat up, Crowley grumbling unintelligibly and rubbing at his slitted yellow eyes. "Darling? Is everything alright?"

They made their way to his side of the bed and Aziraphale opened his arms to welcome them into his freely offered comfort. Their tears were now back in full, and they wrapped themself around the softness of their Mother-Father with the need to be held. Crowley sat up and exchanged a look with his husband. "Love, are you alright?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. "I-I fin-finished it." They sobbed into the collar of Aziraphale's shirt, and he made a sound of understanding, nodding. "The novel I lent you? Did you enjoy it? I do believe the ending was quite sad, I was rather dewy eyed over it as well."

"Wait, all this is about a book?" Aziraphale shot Crowley a look of warning. "I do believe it is. A rather emotional story, wasn't it love?" Their child mumbled something in to Aziraphale's shirt that might have been 'yes' or perhaps 'fuck you'. Crowley couldn't believe he'd been pulled out of what might have been a dream, or perhaps a memory, either way it involved Freddie Mercury, just for this. Why would anyone ever want to read if this was the result? "Do you want to sleep with us tonight, darling?" Crowley asked, flopping back down with his head on his pillow. He looked at the clock, the red lettering projected an offensive 3:07AM.

Y/n sat up and wiped their eyes, then laid their head back down on Aziraphale's shoulder, looking out. He rubbed their back soothingly, always so empathetic. "I don't think I can sleep right now." Aziraphale hummed, an upturned chipper to roll the sound from his throat. "Well," he said, a breathless excitement and loving smile that cast one identically on to the tear puffed face of his child. His little world right there, teary eyed and oh-so lovable, in his warm and inviting lap. "Why don't we go downstairs, and I make us a pot of tea? Perhaps some breakfast?" Crowley groaned and threw his arms up over his face in exhausted exasperation - both husband and his child ignored him. "Can we make pancakes? With toppings?"

Aziraphale smiled. "Why, of course! Anything you'd like! And we can all make it together!" Crowley sat up, glaring. "Woah, hold on. All of us? I never said anything about breakfast, I don't even like breakfast." Aziraphale guided y/n to stand up and then he followed suit, standing at the base of his side of the bed and glaring back at his husband while their child waited in the doorway, amused. "Well, Crowley, not everything is about you. Our child wants pancakes, now get up and come help us make them." Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a long look, each silently daring the other to act against them. Finally, Aziraphale grabbed the bottom of the duvet and yanked it off the bed, sending pillows and sheets flying to the floor. Crowley yelled out in protest; y/n stood laughing in the doorway. He glared at them; they glared back playfully.

Aziraphale wacked Crowley gently on the foot. "Up." He demanded with an accusatory pointing of fingers. Crowley groaned in the most dramatic fashion and threw his legs over the side of the bed to stand up, cursing Aziraphale under his breath all the while. His husband and child didn't wait for him as they headed down the stairs to the kitchen. "So, what will it be? Chai? Chamomile? Earl Grey?" Y/n took a seat at the bar while Aziraphale hunted for the kettle. "Which ones do we still have?"

"Umm, let's see," Aziraphale set the kettle down on stove and searched the pantry for tea bags. "I can only find Chamomile. Will that be alright, my love? Would you prefer I made us some hot cocoa?" He waved the box of chocolate powder in the air, and y/n found themself fantasizing about tiny marshmallows. "Let's do hot cocoa." Aziraphale beamed and practically skipped his way back to the kettle. "I was hoping you'd pick that one." It was then that Crowley decided to make an appearance, now fully dressed. "Dad," they said, and he stopped in the middle of the walkway, looking at them with a raised brow. "We are planning to go to bed after this, you do know that, right?"

Crowley walked over to his kid, swaying in the way that Aziraphale and y/n often teased him for, and placed a kiss to the top of their head. "You might be, but I'm not." They looked at him with furrowed brows and confusion so obvious he could practically hear their question in his head. It was like looking into a mirror sometimes, looking at his kid - only they were every bit the angel their Mother-Father was. It was a shame, a damn shame. "Awe, it's too late for that now, sugar. I'm already awake." The clinking of mugs brought their attention back to Aziraphale, and Crowley took the seat next to y/n. "Ah, here we are!" the angel announced, setting two steaming mugs down in front of his little family. Y/n beamed at the little marshmallows sloshing against the walls of the cup, yellow eyes gleaming with delight.

Aziraphale retrieved his mug and lifted it for a toast, Crowley and y/n followed suit. "To the fascination that is human literature." Y/n echoed his toast and Crowley mumbled something about ridiculousness, they all took a sip of their cocoa, hissing as it burnt each of their tongues. "Perhaps we should have waited." Aziraphale commented, making a face at y/n who laughed and agreed. "Perhaps we should have all stayed in bed while we still had the chance."

"Yes, maybe we should have left you there," y/n teased, exchanging slitted glares with their parent. "But then you would have missed the pancakes." Crowley leaned back in his seat and rolled his eyes. "I don't even like pancakes." Aziraphale had started grabbing ingredients out of the pantry, y/n and Crowley got up to help. "How could you possibly know that? You've never even tried them." While Crowley grumbled pointless excuses, Aziraphale handed him the flour and the salt. Y/n grabbed the wet ingredients from the fridge. "Yes, yes, you don't care for human food," Aziraphale waved him off, setting an armful of ingredients on to the cabinet and nearly knocking over his hot cocoa. As soon as his arms were free, he picked up the mug and took a sip, y/n following suit. "However, these pancakes are special pancakes."

"Oh, really?" Aziraphale hummed, exchanging glances with his kid. He sent them a playful wink. "Yes, very special. Because we'll be making them as a family, Crowley. Isn't that nice?" The expectant look on his child's and husband's faces were one in the same. Crowley hated the way he never stood a chance against them. "Ugh, fine," He fought back a smile at the hugs that engulfed him immediately after he caved. "But only if the two of you will stop pestering me." Y/n and Aziraphale exchanged a grin and a nod, "Deal." they said in unison. Crowley leaned against the counter as y/n got out mixing bowls and Aziraphale began measuring ingredients, and he sipped his cocoa. It's going to be a long night, he thought and then, despite himself, he smiled. If this is what love does to a demon, it was pathetic. Yet he couldn't help but to allow it to warm him from the inside out. He was going soft.

"Hey, dad?" y/n asked, looking up at him bashfully. "I can't reach the mixer." Crowley sighed, putting emphasis in to an exasperation he didn't feel, and set down his mug. "I got it." Aziraphale looked up from his carton of eggs and smiled at the pair, his little family. Crowley pretended not to notice, and he purposefully ignored the smiles his loved ones sent each other - not so sneakily - behind his back. It would be a long night, indeed, having to keep up pretending he wasn't enjoying it. He wasn't, not really. Well...perhaps just a little.

|| masterlist ||

story by hretoprvdthepltnx©

Ineffable Husbands/Good Omens copyrighted by Neil Gaiman©

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

Hi! Can I send in a request where the reader and yelena has a sibling like dynamic, and the reader comes out as aroace to her and they admit they’re sibling figures to each other, please?

Blood Oath

Yelena Belova x gn!reader

Summary: It's a "sibling" night for Yelena and y/n and they tend to get deep with one another when the moon is up, and the dark is out to blanket them from the grueling truth that is the outside world.

Content: reader is aroace, Yelena is asexual, found family dynamic, discussion about lack of sexual attraction, reader also confesses an insecurity about fear of being alone, hurt/comfort, coming out,

Rating: 16+ (for mature conversation themes) || 1.3k+ words

The room was lit by an eerie hue of white-blue light and the occasional bursts of pixilated color cast by the television screen. You weren't paying any attention to the movie. It was another generic action film from the 90's and the quality was crap. Instead, your eyes drifted to watch the flickering bulb of the lamppost out the window - a story down and across the street.

A man stood under it, wearing a raincoat with the hood pulled up. It hadn't rained for weeks. He pulled a small box from the inner breast pocket of his coat and removed a cigarette. He lit it with a small lighter he pulled from the pocket of his dark jeans. The end of it burned red-orange and the smoke cast a shadow in the purple hue of the lamp light which made it look like a lanky dancing ghost.

"It hasn't rained in a month." Yelena commented, lowering her chin on to your shoulder to follow your gaze and peer out the window from behind you. She had muted the explosive blasts emitting from the system - the effects too loud and the talking too quiet. The movie must have had a production budget of fifty bucks. "I know."

Another man immerged from the darkness, and you watched, silently with Yelena, as they exchanged greetings. The second man, the new character, linked his arm with the first and kissed him on the cheek. The first man handed him the cigarette and together they smoked beneath the purple light of the lamppost, hand in hand. Behind you, Yelena awed. "They're adorable! Do you think their dating?"

With a scrunched-up nose, you relaxed back into the sofa and into the soft pressure of Yelena's body. "Probably, but who cares." You had lost interest in the inappropriately dressed man and his chain-smoking partner, casting your eyes back to the soundless screen. You squinted. It was always just a little too bright when it was dark out, but you didn't bother learning how to adjust the settings.

"You're just jealous because he has a partner, and you don't." You felt yourself tense, but Yelena's laugh and playful shove was all obviously meant as a non-serious tease. Still, you found yourself wanting to tell her. Needing too. It had been kept a secret from your surrogate sister for too long already, and this felt like the perfect opportunity. "What... What if I don't want a partner? Like, what if I'd rather just be me? Just my own person."

"What do you mean?" Yelena asked, turning in her seat to sit facing you, legs crossed up under her. Suddenly the flashing from the television set felt like it was putting out two much heat. Your face burned and you bent over to grab the remote from the coffee table in front of the sofa, switching off the power. The room was encased in a sudden black - your eyes struggling to adjust with now only the outskirts of the lamppost shading to light the dark apartment from the outside in.

You blinked several times as if that would help and, still feeling hot, threw your side of the blanket back into Yelena's lap. "I just mean, like, what if all that romantic dating-marriage-and-kids thing isn't for me? What if I don't want that?" Yelena slid closer to you in the dark and stretched her arm around the back of the sofa behind you. She laid her cheek against her arm, the rounded tip of her nose nuzzling your grey-cotton covered shoulder. "Like... what if your aromantic?"

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, the tips of your ears tingling with quick setting panic. Fight of flight was kicking in. You took a breath, deep and shaky. "Yeah. Something like that. Something... yeah." Yelena nodded against your shoulder, her calm soothing you just a little. Was she cool with this? Were things about to get weird between you? "Are you asking or telling me."

"Telling, I think." You cringed at the choked way the words came out. Yelena reached for your hand in the dark and squeezed it. "Do you know I'm asexual?" You felt yourself freeze. No, you hadn't known that - but of course you hadn't, this was her way of telling you. Yelena noticed the rigidness of your posture and nudged you encouraging. "It's okay, my sibling, I know how you feel. Like an outsider, right? Like some kind of other?"

"How did you know you were asexual?" You turn to face her - too quickly and she pulls her face up to avoid being hit. Neither of you acknowledge it, though an apology shows on your night-shielded face. She can't see it, but she feels it there, heating the darkness. Yelena chuckles, an indulging sound that strikes you as something slightly relieved. "Conversation, I guess. Television. Commercials and things like that. I just kind of knew it's not something I cared about, but I didn't realize that made me different until I got away from the Red Room and got to experience life for myself. You know, like, normally?"

"But how do you know?" you pressed, fiddling with Yelena's ringless fingers in your lap. "Why?" Your gaze lifted to hers and then dropped again, she wasn't being defensive, only curious. Releasing her hand, you pulled your knees to your chest and hugged them. "Because I think I'm asexual too." Yelena sighed and reached out to touch your leg above your ankle. As always, there were a thousand words hidden in her touch. "So, how do you know?"

"I don't. I mean, I think I do...but I'm not sure."

"Okay, I can make this easy. Name a guy you think is hot and that you would want to fuck." The silence spoke volumes. You tried to think, you really did. Was there a guy? A celebrity or someone you had met on the street, maybe? People were nice looking, but so were the stars in the night sky and house plants. You didn't want to fuck any of it. Finally, you shook your head. "How about a girl? A nonbinary person?" Again, the answer was the same. "No, no I don't think so. But I don't know what that means."

"It means sex isn't something that appeals to you, right?" Her tone was gentle and the way she reached for you, sliding closer, made you feel safe and understood. You were able to relax a bit, but only a bit. Nodding, you answered her, head to clustered to properly respond. "And neither is romance? You don't want either of those things?"

"Does that make me a freak?" you blurted, then shame compelled you to attempt to play it off with an awkward grin. Yelena wasn't having it. "No, you're not a freak. Neither of us are. We just want different things out of life." She shrugged and leaned back at an angle against the couch, smiling at you. Her smile was contagious. "I still don't want to be alone though."

"Neither do I. But there's more to love than just romance and sex. Society has us brainwashed." It was true. There was no denying that. Your gaze drifted back to the window - the couple was gone. Yelena's arms wrapped around you in a hug, and you laid your head against hers. Your knees dropped and she scooted closer, her head on your collarbone as you shifted to get better adjusted. "We have each other," she promised "and we will find other siblings. Other friends who become like family. We don't have to be alone. We can be happy."

You smiled wide, surprised to feel a rivulet of tears making its way down your cheek - the others landing in Yelena's blonde hair. She didn't complain. Instead, she hugged you tighter. "I love you." You told her, playing off a sniffle with a cough. "I love you too, my sibling. More than anything." It was like a weight lifted and you could breathe, truly breathe, for the first time. You closed your eyes and hugged her tighter and, in the darkness of your apartment, she held you while you cried.

|| masterlist ||

story by hretoprvdthepltnx©

Yelena Belova copyrighted by Marvel©

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

Loki

Bucky Barnes

nothing yet

Mx. Mischief ~ young!Loki x young!bsf!reader

Yelena Belova

Blood Oath ~ surrogate sister!Yelena x gn!reader

Steven Grant/Marc Spector

nothing yet

Eddie Brock/Venom

nothing yet

Ineffable Husbands

3 O'clock Breakfast ~ Ineffable Dads x bio kid!reader

Robin Buckley

Handmade ~ parental figures!Ineffable Husbands x angel!reader

nothing yet

Eddie Munson

Boys Will Be Boys ~ FTM!Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

nothing yet

list in progress

|| navigation ||

stories by hretoprvdthepltnx©

character copyrights: Marvel©, Neil Gaiman©, and The Duffer Brothers©,

(divider by @cafekitsune)

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

would you please write a fic about being (fully platonic) roommates with Loki? I want to see just how much chaos would happen between the literal god of chaos and a chaotic ADHDer

Mx. Mischief

Loki x gn!reader

Summary: In the years of old, when both Loki and y/n were still young and welcome in Asgard, the prince and the forgotten one had a game they liked to play during the dark hours. During the night, while the golden heir slept peacefully in the chambers next, they played their game until the night they were caught. It was then that they decided to move on to bigger prizes. Prizes shaped in the form of realms. Here is one of their stories from Before.

Content: platonic soulmates, inseparable pairing, young Loki x young reader, they/them pronouns used for reader, Loki is genderfluid, brief non-sexual nudity,

Rating: 14+ || 600+ words

The raven perched on a shoulder clad in the darkest of green silks. The iridescence of its manicured feathers glimmered in waves of blue-purple-green in the drifting light of the hanging torches. Their gown made no rippling sound as they slinked through the palace, silent-like, with the raven for companion.

"Are you sure it's this way?" They whispered, and the wind drifting through the open corridor killed the sound before it could reach any unintended ears. Sharp nipping and the scrape of a beak against metal rings carried an assault on their ear, and they turned that way in to the dimly lit passage. "Stop it," they hissed, batting at the raven so that it flew up off of its shoulder perch and into the night sky. "You know this place gets confusing sometimes."

The raven squawked and the human cursed its feeble existence, but they both carried on deeper into the grounds, until human feet touched mossy stone and the raven found a branching perch. "So, it was the way." They spoke under their breath, giving the garden a quick look over for guards. There were none.

"I told you," said the raven, its eyes a marbled emerald green, "I know my palace." The human scoffed, pulling a worn leather pouch from the abyss of their silken robes and an identical set for their companion. "You don't know shit. You're just lucky that you can fly."

Loki, now in the shape of the godchild that he perhaps truly was, and unfazed by his arrant nudity, swung himself down from his branch with impeccable grace. His pale and lanky frame shinning as beautifully in the moon light as his feathers had minutes before. He accepted the green silks from the outstretched palm of his beloved partner in crime as he had time and time before.

"You're lucky that I don't loathe your company." He retorted, the threat every bit as empty as his smirk was twisted up in smugness. He was charming, this trickster. The rightful heir of Asgard. He was a cunning little bastard too. "So, who shall be our victim tonight?" They asked him, eyes gleaming with violent excitement. "Why my oaf of a brother, of course. I thought that was clear."

The pair sat down on the soft bedding of grass beneath the tree, a sacred monument, and spread out the contents of their fraying bag of schemes. "How shall we do it?" Y/n asked, flipping through the pages of the spell book they had stollen, together with Loki, from Frigga's library. "Like this," Loki told them, thin, black painted fingertip stopping the progression of their flipping pages. The page had been marked already, and Loki wore a beaming smile of malevolent intent. "We'll use this."

Y/n fixed him with a look and Loki, persuasive as ever, started to defend his case. "It won't be permanent. It might just interfere slightly with his courtship to the lady Sif." Loki watched the sly grin creep up his best friend's face and replace the uncertainty in their eyes with mischief. "How will we get in?" They asked, leaning over the open book to look at him with worshipful glee.

They always made him feel like the god he knew he was, like the king he was destined to be. They trusted him. They loved him. Loki smiled, beautiful and deadly, and leaned in towards his friend as well. The wind rattled the sacred branches overhead and Loki's eyes sparkled green in the reflected glance of his favored companion. "We'll use magic. How do you feel about being a bird?"

|| masterlist ||

story by hretoprvdthepltnx©

Loki copyrighted by Marvel©

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

Aro/aspec friendly/LGBTQ+ friendly fanfiction

Writing for all pronouns with little to no character description for reader insert (send your pronouns with your requests or inserts with be gender neutral)

Mostly romance-less/sexless fanfiction with a short selection of your favorite characters listed below

Most fanfics are genfic (or nonromantic or sexual in nature) but will be written for audiences no less than 14 years of age.

Requests are open for best friend, roommate, surrogate family, adoptive parental, sibling, or any other platonic trope. you may choose your preferred pronouns and gender as well as orientation if you'd like.

Characters will either be nameless, or reader insert for optimal interaction and enjoyment.

I will make romantic exceptions and write narratives for arospec characters since I find representation to be so important as an aro/aspec person myself. However, they will be marked differently, so look out for that.

I will write for some ships so long as they are background characters. (Ex. Steddie x Ronance x aro/ace!reader who is a part of the Fruity Four Five)

Character List: James "Bucky" Barnes, Loki, Yelena Belova, Steven Grant/Marc Spector, Crowley and/or Aziraphale, Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Eddie Brock/Venom,

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RULES: this is a place for platonic pairings and a safe space for aro/aspec indulgence. we will tolerate no negativity or queerphobia here. this blog has specifically been made for the community to be able to vibe together and share our experiences. allo people are welcome here as well, so long as they are supportive towards this part of the queer community and the queer community as a whole. no smut does not automatically mean the fanfiction found here will be SFW. most likely, it won't be. however, all posts will be marked accordingly and it is the readers responsibility to look out for these things. self harm, suicide, abuse, and all other sensitive topics are not welcome here. my goal is to make a safe and comfortable environment for all who interact here and so that means no large triggers. if you struggle with one or more of the things listed, or something along those lines that hasn't been noted, please seek guidance and reach out to someone who can help you - but here is not the place for that. it's my job to run this blog as well as I can and to protect as many of my followers as I can from something that might be harmful to them. thank you and much love.