#I also read It's Curtains For You I just remembered it last because it doesn't *quite* fit what you wanted

[lavenoon]

Lave-san i need help i desperately need fics where the DCA does not like you initially/straight up dislikes you and avoids you. Bonus ppints for mechanic y/n

So I'll lead with the disclaimer that I crowdfunded this reply because I am a pitifully slow reader, which translates to me actually reading only very few fanfics. However, I trust my sources (from the Sleepy Cove Server <3), so I'll wholeheartedly recommend these!

First the two I have actually read:

Our Orbit is Elliptical by @sycopomp and @madame-mongoose

The Daycare Attendant is very protective of his role in the Superstar Daycare; he was made for this job, after all, and he finds it insulting that management seems to think he needs help. They insist on saddling him with human assistants, over and over, no matter how many quit. Not that he does it intentionally, of course... but if they can't handle the stress, then perhaps they aren't fit to be working with children. Hmph.

You are the new Daycare Assistant at the Superstar Daycare! Despite some reservations, you're determined to do your best and prove-- mostly to yourself-- that you deserve to be here. You're inspired by Sun and the ease with which he gets along with the children, and you hope to impress him with your go-getter attitude and unflappable confidence! (Even if both of those things are about as flimsy as construction paper...)

aka: Sun is passive-aggressive to his new assistant, whom is so determined to do a good job that they're too oblivious to notice.

Almost Human by @vilz

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.” ― Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

---

You get a new job. It's a struggle.

And now the ones that make me wish I could read faster or simply have more time in the day:

Two Choices by @thelonereni

You chose this.

There was regret of course, but turning back wasn't an option anymore. You couldn't lose this new game you found yourself in, and somehow you managed to feel more and more alive the longer you played...

You have worked in sanitation since the pizzaplex opened, but that all changed when you had a bit of a mishap in the kitchen. With the only real option left being an assistant in the daycare, you decided it couldn't be worse that your previous position.

Between the surly daycare attendant, bosses breathing down your neck and the corporate overlords coming for a visit, your starting to think you make really shitty life choices.

What's The Moral Here? by @/siquieres on ao3

Your little brother is invited to a birthday party at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex, hosted inside the Superstar Daycare. The Daycare Attendant takes a disliking towards you, or at least, that's what you think it is. Despite this and the violent nightmares of a sun god that plague you, you keep letting your brother bring you back. You keep coming back.

A sort of mean-spirited take on the Sun/Reader dynamic. Reader is often injured, intentionally or not.

What's It Called When Light Hits A Prism? by @/TooManyPsuedonyms on ao3

The PizzaPlex has been running--and the Management needs a new operator for one of their salvaged animatronics.

You are just trying to live independently, so of course, you'll take the job.

You have no idea what you're in for. Granted, you never really know what you're in for, but this can't be much different than working with regular human people… right?

And perhaps one where the DCA doesn't outright dislike Y/N, but the premise still causes tension in their dynamic (and you get mechanic Y/N!):

It's Curtains For You! by @muzzlemouths

|| “You will be befriending, then dismantling the animatronic,” he gets right to the point, “and you’ll have about a month to do it.”

You're not here to make friends. You're here to earn what you can, smile and nod with simple Yes Sirs, and keep your head down low. An open position as the Daycare Attendant's newest 'mechanic' doesn't change any of that. You're on a tight schedule with the disassembly and you can't afford to be getting attached.

But what happens when you do?

[withleeknow]

six minutes.

pairing: seungmin x reader genre/warnings: friends to ??, fluff; a couple of swear words here and there bc who am i if i don't swear, mentions of hurling but it doesn't actually happen, not really unedited lol word count: 0.8k note: HELLO FELLOW WIFEU (you know who you are), number 13 was "things you said at the kitchen table" lol. anywhomst people, my first seungmin piece!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when blinding sunlight playfully slips through the curtains, you wake up with an ache inside your head, then instant confusion as you take in your surroundings.

this isn't your bedroom.

the clothes you're wearing aren't the ones you put on before you went out last night.

there's someone on the other side of the bedroom door, and the rummaging of cabinets, the clanging of pots and pans.

you sit up fully, clutching the duvet cover close to your chest, evidently disoriented. there's not much for you to go on - the room is clean, tidy, barely any decorations except for what seems to be a few baseball mementos displayed neatly on the credenza sitting opposite from the bed, surrounded by empty cream-colored walls.

a dumb, possibly-still-drunken thought pops up.

oh my god, i've been kidnapped.

you blink, feeling fatigue in every limb, slightly alarmed but not scared even though you probably should be. (you've been told that your survival instincts aren't very sharp.) the brain fog must also be a contributing factor, but even in spite of the thought of being kidnapped, you don't register any sense of imminent danger. just a growing perplexity because not everything has clicked into place yet.

your eyes notice a framed photo on the bedside table when the light catches on the glass. upon closer examination, you gasp sharply, because why the fuck is there a photo of your dog in this strange bedroom?!

oh wait.

okay.

thank fuck. you've been here before.

it's just kim seungmin's bedroom that you're in, and it's just kim seungmin's favorite baseball t-shirt that you're wearing.

after a moment of sitting by yourself in total dumbfounded silence, you venture out of the bedroom on unsteady legs - not even the good kind of wobbly legs that you wished you'd experienced as a result of a freaky night tangled up in the sheets - to find your friend in the kitchen with his back turned to you, hunched over something you can't see on the counter next to the sink.

you take a seat at the kitchen island, making sure to scrape the chair across the floor loudly to alert him of your presence. he turns around at the sound, a bit startled - cute - then throws a smile your way when he realizes who the intruder is.

"morning, sunshine," he chuckles upon seeing the disgruntled look on your face, courtesy of your stubborn headache. "sleep well?"

"i don't even remember what happened," you grumble, bypassing his question entirely. "why am i here? why didn't you take me home?"

"you wouldn't let me. you made me take you back to my place, then you practically demanded to sleep in my bed too," he tells you, filling a glass with water and handing it to you before turning back again to continue working on whatever task he was occupied with before you interrupted him. "thank god you didn't hurl."

you scoff, but you take a grateful sip of the water anyway. "you would've made me sleep on the couch?"

"yes." zero hesitation. motherfucker.

"and they say chivalry is dead."

"you'd be dead too if you had puked on my bed."

"i almost did. i woke up thinking i was kidnapped."

seungmin laughs, extending a hand to his right to grab a container of salt. you recognize it because it's part of the spice container set that you got him as a housewarming gift when he first moved into this apartment.

"would a kidnapper let you wear his favorite shirt and drool on his pillows?" he asks.

"i was practically blacked out. you could've thrown me a potato sack and i wouldn't have noticed."

"yeah, well, you wanted the shirt, so..."

for some reason, it makes you warm all over. though you still feel icky as hell from the night out, the soft material of his tee covering your body becomes more welcoming, makes you want to wrap yourself in the fabric even more.

you clear your throat, trying to dissolve the lump that forms in your throat upon hearing his words. the mischievous sun makes an appearance again, tiptoeing from the bedroom window to the kitchen window, sneaking through the cracks to saturate seungmin in a generous dose of golden light.

he turns around to face you once again, before you can think of anything else to say. he places a plate in front of you, and the sight leaves you a little taken aback. soft boiled eggs, already peeled and halved, sprinkled with your favorite sea salt.

"i don't think a kidnapper would get up early and google how to soft boil eggs either," he says with a casual shrug, but there's a hint of a smile there, tugging at his the corner of his lips.

"you had to google how to boil eggs?"

"soft boil eggs," he tuts, mildly offended that you'd think he's that incompetent in the kitchen. "because you like them."

he lets the smile take over completely now, the very second you feel heat rush to your cheeks.

"google said it takes six minutes, by the way."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 21.12.2023]

[mockerycrow]

super big congratulations on 4k!! you deserve it <3

i was wondering if you could write a gn! reader x price with the prompt "Hey, it's okay, I got you. You're alright, you're okay." it doesn't matter if it's platonic or romantic; whatever feels best for you!!

Thank you so much and congratulations!

YOU’RE ALIVE (Price x GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; Car accident, implied situationship w/ Price, moderate injuries, flashbacks, near panic attack, open ending.]

YOU DON’T REMEMBER the events that lead up to you in a hospital bed, a cast fitted around your arm, a brace on your knee, a bandage around your skull, and only God knows how many stitches and bandages in random assortments. You can’t forget the numeral wires and tubes attached to you, too. Oh, and the ear-bleeding beeping. John sits next to you in a chair—he’s your… friend, of sorts. You aren’t really sure what to call what you two have going on.

You look at him, slumped in the visitors chair he’s pulled up beside your bed, his arms crossed and his legs spread; his neck is bent at an awkward angle and you know it’s going to ache whenever he awakens. John looks quite tired—he’s looked tired and stressed the entire time he’s been in the hospital room with you. Stressing over you, like a worried hu—…. you shouldn’t think about that. Suddenly the ceiling looks far more appealing to stare at, rather than the beautiful gentleman who is willingly staying at your bedside, despite your exhausted attempts to have him get some proper rest.

You glance over at him—envious of how he’s able to sleep right now. Hm. Honestly, you know John would be awake with you if he had the energy. The only reason why you’re awake is your stitches itch, and the only reason why he’s asleep is because you did not wake up for four days after you passed out at the scene of a car accident you were apparently in; an accident you don’t remember too well. You barely even remember what you had for breakfast that morning; cereal of some kind, maybe? Eggs? You don’t know.

“You were on the way to work, love.” You remember John telling you. You remember the tense expression, the firmness of his eyebrows. The frown of his lip, the way he amusingly resembled a quokka in the moment. You were also apparently on the phone with John at the same time, so whatever happened, he heard all of it. The details from your own memory are fuzzy—your doctors concluded your amnesia is temporary, so they gave you the choice of remembering it yourself or having them tell you. You opted in for the first option.

It was coming back to you in bits and pieces. Small moments where you feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, you think you hear glass shattering in the distance; your heart begins to race at different moments. You aren’t sure what to make of it—until now.

“I’m not excited for this meeting.” You whined, your eyes were glued to the road. Your phone is bluetooth connected to your car’s system so you can talk with John and have both of your hands on the wheel. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, honey. Surely it’s just about budgets like last month.” John hums through the speakers of your car. You sigh, turning on your windshield wipers as it’s pouring out, obscuring your vision a bit.

“It’s raining pretty hard, how do the roads look?” He asks, a bit of rustling coming from John’s end. He’s probably reading a book or looking out from the curtains. “I’m driving slower than normal, visibility isn’t the greatest..” You admit, letting out a breath, slowing the car down once again. “..I was sliding a bit, thinking it’s time I get some new wheels.” John hums in agreement. “Definitely. Please be safe, love.” You chuckled glancing around the road, furrowing your eyebrows when the double yellow line seems to fade. “I’m trying my best, Jo—“

You’re suddenly being jostled around violently after a big impact from your front, your seatbelt digging into your skin as something launches your car off to the side. “SHIT—“ You scream, attempting to stop the car, but the rain causes you to slide across the road. Something hits you from the back and you feel you physically feel yourself lift in your seat—and then you’re fading in and out. You wake up with wetness against your face, pain in your ribs, your arm, your skull—

You let out a choked sob as there’s ringing in your ears and your eyes refuse to focus—but you can tell you’re upside down. You see a pair of legs sprinting towards you through your broken side window, and you aren’t really register what’s happening. You blink and the person is try to pry the door open frantically. You still don’t hear them; it’s almost like a silent movie.

The door gives, the flipped car jostling from the force used to pry it open. You blink and fuck—It’s John. His eyes are wide and his jaw is tense, shaky hands. He’s grabbing the sides of your head, forcing you to keep your head still—his lips are moving but you can’t hear him. You sob and you try to reach up to touch him, and he lets you. Your eyes look at your own hand as it’s caked in your own blood, causing you to inhale shakily. This isn’t happening. The pain starts sitting you harder, a pulsing in the side of your head.

“Hey—“ John’s voice suddenly cuts through and you blink, and you’re back in the hospital room. You’re breathing hard and fast, causing your chest to ache more than it already does. His hands are cupping your cheeks like he was in the flipped car, and you let out a panicked sob; your machines make loud beeping noises in retaliation. “Hey, it’s okay, I got you. You’re alright, you’re okay..” John quickly murmurs, his thumbs gently wiping your tears away. “Focus on my voice, okay? You’re alright. You’re in the hospital, love.”

You sniffle and nod, shakily inhaling once again as you try to calm your panicked lungs and struggling heart, your good hand coming up and gently grasping his wrist. “I-I was flipped over—“ You choke out, which John quickly meets with soft shushing and a kiss between your eyebrows. “I know, honey. I know. I got you, you’re safe now.” You nod, choking out another whimper as you lean into his touch—because John’s right. He has you; you’re safe, he’s the one who got to you first. You’re sure you’ll want to ask him how he found you so fast later, but all you want to do right now and feel him and hear him. Because you’re alive.

[togenabi]

apothecary diaries

vinsmoke sanji (opla) x fem!reader

♡—you need peppermint for a salve you're making, but sanji bought all of it, and that's seriously not fair.

word count♡— 3.7k

genre♡— fluff

content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader runs an apothecary and likes to make things, inaccurate chemistry for the sake of the story, mentions of flames in bottles, please do not do that, no use of y/n, not fully proofread

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— I love sanji sm he makes me cry. might be first in a series, but we'll see. please enjoy. xoxo, belle.

The third time a pirate entered your shop, you genuinely considered closing up early today.

You level him with a stare despite the man being twice your size. You cut him off before he can get a word out.

“No, I don't have anything that works against people made of rubber.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you gesture to the rest of your wares. “Now, are you going to get anything else? Or should you be on your way?”

He leaves, disgruntled, but without a fight.

A huff escapes your lips. The nerve of these people.

Ever since that outrageous bounty for that new pirate came along, suddenly every pirate and pirate hunter in the East Blue was gearing up to chase after him. All the poisons that were gathering dust in your storage were cleared out within days of those posters showing up.

It was good berry at first, but they got more aggressive, and started demanding more of everything. More doses than you were comfortable handing out. More dangerous poisons that could kill everyone in the room if the seal loosens by even a crack.

You took up this apothecary business because you wanted to help people. It wasn't exactly your dream to become a poison dealer.

The shop bell rings again. Thankfully, this time it's one of your elderly neighbors and not a pirate seeking poison.

The old lady smiles at you, the sides of her eyes crinkling. “You seem to be quite busy these days, dear.”

“If only they were paying customers like you, Ma'am.” You pick up a box of loose tea from the shelf, already knowing her usual order.

She gasps in concern. “Oh my, did they steal from you?”

“Only my time.” You grimace slightly, remembering how many pirates barged in last week.

“Would you like some honey with this? We have fresh jars from today's shipment.” You offer as you tally her order.

The lady hums in agreement. “Yes, I think some honey would be lovely.”

During slow days like these, you like to tinker with new recipes to sell. On a desk at the very back of the shop, obscured by thick curtains, is your beloved workstation.

You review your notes from the previous day. You'll need to get some peppermint for the healing salve you're developing. Taking a small jar of the experimental paste, you test a small amount on your hand.

Indeed, it needs more peppermint. Maybe you should use extract instead of crushed leaves next time, so that the texture is smoother.

The problem arises when your go-to herb supplier says he's run out of peppermint.

“Please tell me you're kidding.” You groan, looking down at your sadly empty whicker basket.

“M’sorry, lass.” The vendor shrugs, not looking very sorry at all. “You just missed the guy who bought everything. I promise I'll get you your peppermint next week, though.”

Resigned, you sigh, reading through the rest of your shopping list. The salve, at least, can wait a week as it's still a work in progress. The rest of your list, however, are crucial ingredients for your usual bestsellers.

“Fancy looking lad. He asked about spices. Told him to go to the shops down by the river.”

Your stomach drops. Everything else you need are sold by those shops.

Mentally cursing that vendor, you run as fast as your feet can take you. You're not letting some tourist get the better of you when it comes to ingredients.

You reach the river in record time. You'd feel proud if you didn't feel winded. Even so, you scan the road for anyone matching the tourist's description.

There doesn't seem to be anyone remotely fancy around. Triumphant, you go on with your shopping.

You begin to feel better as you cross more things off your list. You've almost forgotten about the peppermint incident, if only you didn't suddenly smell so much of it pass by.

A tall blond man walks by, clearly doing a lot of shopping based on the boxes of supplies he's carrying. The scent of peppermint hits you again. In a paper bag, at the very top of the boxes, you spot bunches of those leaves you've been so desperate for.

You can only clench your jaw in frustration and frown at the back of his head. He purchases a large amount of meat and fish in the next stall, and you gather that he must be some sort of chef. No normal person buys so much meat that the shopkeep offers to deliver everything. But that's what happens to this fancy looking lad. He must not be normal then.

“Yes, my ship's in the docks. You can't miss it, thank you so much for your help.” He smiles. His blue eyes wander the stall, then travel to the next stall over, where you are.

There's a moment of surprise when he finds you already looking at him, but his expression changes instantly into a suave one. It almost makes you want to back away, but you stand your ground when he approaches.

“Aren’t you stunning? I was feeling tired, but your pretty face woke me right up.”

You turn away, pointedly ignoring him. He can't flirt with you while smelling like peppermint. It's just not fair.

“Sorry for the hold up, lass. What's it you need?” The shopkeep you were waiting for shows up just in time. You continue to not pay the blond beside you any attention.

“Cinnamon and salt, please.” You respond. “Pink, if you have any.”

“I'll have the same, good sir.” Fancy pants says. “Though, my salt doesn't need to be pink.”

As the shopkeep rummages through his supplies, the blond continues to speak to you. Why does he keep speaking to you?

“Pink salt is lovely to look at, same as you,” He begins, “But other than the color, there really isn't a difference to normal salt, isn't there?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulder shifting his suit jacket slightly. “You're paying extra for the same result. It's all the same when you cook it.”

“I'm not using it for cooking.” Is your only response.

The shopkeep returns before the stranger can reply. “Here's the salt for you's.” He hands you a bag of pink rock salt, and the stranger a bag of regular salt.

The dread from the peppermint vendor returns when you realize the shopkeep is holding only one bag of cinnamon. He pats it and says, “I could split it so you both get half.”

“I was here first.” You insist desperately. “Sell it to me.”

“...My hands are tied here, lad.” The shopkeep sells you the cinnamon, and it's quickly tucked into your basket when you get your hands on it. The stranger doesn't barter for it. Good.

And with that, you cross out cinnamon and salt from your shopping list. You were able to get everything except the peppermint, which stays neat and legible at the very top of the list.

You crumple the paper and toss it into a nearby bin before making your way back to your shop.

“Are you on your way to get some peppermint?” How did the stranger catch up with you so quickly?

“No.” No matter how much you wish you were.

You try to walk faster, but his pace is steady even with a large box under one arm and several others tied up with twine held in his other hand.

“But it was on your list.” He seems to be very interested in your dealings. Is he always this dedicated when he flirts?

You cross the bridge that arches over the river together. The townsfolk who recognize you and not the man next to you begin to whisper amongst themselves.

It takes everything in you to resist rolling your eyes. After a week of pirates, you suspect your shop will be full of gossiping neighbors soon.

“A certain someone bought all the best peppermint today.” Of course the scent of it wafts over you again as you say so.

“Ah.” Understanding dawns on his face. “I see, I'm sorry if that inconvenienced you.”

It was your turn to shrug. You were about to say that it was okay, but then remember that you wouldn't be able to complete your salve until next week.

You pout before you can help it. “Did you really have to buy all of it?”

He breathes out a laugh. “I normally wouldn't, but my friends tend to have endless appetites. It always pays to have plenty of supplies.”

Even in the middle of the bustling street, a certain group of strangers stand out. They're gathered outside the tavern. You don't know any of them, but you recognize one of them as that infamous new pirate with the exorbitant bounty on his head.

“Speaking of my friends...” The blond trails off, nodding towards that particular group.

You just about stop in your tracks. He's with them? He's a pirate?

Okay. A rich, flirtatious tourist you could deal with. A random pirate crew? You would probably still be fine.

But the crew with the highest bounty in all the East Blue? That's just asking for trouble to happen.

While the stranger is distracted by his friends, you slip into an inconspicuous alleyway. You'd have to go a little further around to reach your shop, but that's alright as long as you avoid those Straw Hat pirates.

Luck seems to not be on your side, though. Because fancy pants shows up to your shop later that evening.

He grins. “You didn't tell me crossing that bridge together meant something. I would have talked about something more romantic than peppermint if I knew.”

Of course, word travels fast in a small town. You should have known someone would tell him. And that he would be able to find you easily if he wanted.

“How does the legend go, again?” He asks teasingly. “If two people cross the bridge together on the day they meet... Theirs souls are bound.”

“It's a myth.” You dismiss his charming grin and try to ignore him.

He leans his elbows on the counter that separates you. He's hunched down, but still towers over you somehow.

“It's romantic. And I'm glad it happened to us.” He smiles. “May I at least know the name of the person my soul is now bound to? Mine's Sanji.”

“Well, Sanji. Are you going to buy something?” You ask and avoid giving him your name.

Sanji, surprisingly, nods. He grabs two cans of your special handmade tea and a large jar of honey.

“I'll buy these,” He places the items on the counter. “And give you this.” He holds out several sprigs of peppermint. You blink at him in surprise.

“...Thank you.” You gingerly take it, and carefully set it to the side.

You're silent while you ring up his order. It's when you're taking out a paper bag for him that you finally cave and reveal your name.

The smile that blooms on Sanji's face isn't how you expected it would be. You expected him to look arrogant, to look proud that he was able to sway you like he did other women before.

But he looks at you sweetly, dimples showing and eyes sparkling. You wordlessly hand over the paper bag.

“A pleasure, darling.”

You would have thought that would be the last time you saw Sanji. But, be it luckily or unfortunately, he finds you the next day with the rest of the Straw Hats tagging along.

Only this time, they seem to be on the run.

You hold open the door for the Straw Hats and, one after another, they flood into your shop. Sanji smiles and says something about your hair, but you can't process the words with his friends scattering to hide.

“Sanji, what the fuck?”

“I know, I know, love. I'm sorry we had to reunite like this. We just need to lay low for a bit.” He reassures you, caressing your shoulders as he does.

“I'll make it up to you! I'll cook you a romantic, candlelit dinner.”

You frown at him, unimpressed.

Sanji kisses his teeth and sighs. “I'll give you the rest of the peppermint.”

You perk up instantly. “Deal. You can all hide in my workstation.”

“Hi, I'm Luffy!” Their captain greets you jovially. “That's Zoro,” Luffy points to the swordsman. “Nami,” The woman. “And Usopp.” The one hiding under your counter.

“Of course, you know Sanji already, being soulmates and all.”

You trip on nothing, and Sanji grabs your hand to steady you. You glare. He just smiles.

“Your shop is really cool!” Luffy exclaims, looking at all the trinkets on the shelf.

“Thanks.” You say dryly, pushing the curtain partition aside. You lead them to the back of the shop.

“Make yourselves at home.” You wave a hand towards the couch and some chairs around your desk. They should be fine here as long as they don't need to stay the night.

Through the gaps in the window blinds, flashlights and shadows stream into the room. There seems to be an active search party out for these guys. You suddenly can't believe you agreed to this for peppermint.

Zoro, whose three earrings glint in the light, shifts to scratch at his chest. You spot bandages from the gap in his shirt.

You grab the small jar of salve from your desk and toss it to him. He catches it, but looks from the jar to you and back, confused.

“It's a healing salve I made. It should help soothe your skin.” You explain.

The swordsman still looks unsure, but opens the jar anyway. Zoro sniffs its contents, and tries putting a small amount on his chest.

You beam at him, unable to help feeling proud at how his shoulders visibly relax after using it.

“Thanks.” Zoro says simply.

“No problem.” You nod back, still smiling.

Luffy looks at the jar as if it's a miraculous cure-for-all. “That's amazing.”

“It smells really good, too.” Usopp says, sniffing at the air around Zoro.

“Do you sell that here?” Nami asks.

“I will, once I make more.” You answer. You never realized how uplifting it was to share your work with new people.

Subconsciously, you turn to Sanji. But, why is he frowning? You follow your gaze to find he's looking at the jar in Zoro's hand.

Before you can ask him if anything is wrong, Luffy bursts out excitedly, "You're a doctor! You should join our crew!"

You wince. “No, I'm a chemist.”

“Cool!” Luffy's enthusiasm does not wane. “So you can heal, right?”

You're about to correct him before they assume things out of your pay grade when Usopp claps his hands in realization.

“She's even better than a doctor!” Usopp insists. “She makes the medicine that the doctors give out!”

Just as you were about to interfere with how much they were overestimating your skills, the shop bell rings. You turn to the clock. Shit, you should have locked up twenty minutes ago.

You meet everyone's eyes and they all nod, understanding that they need to be quiet. You switch off the lights in the back room for good measure.

The customer is a pirate you've never seen before. He looks angry, glaring at every possible hiding spot in your shop. Particularly the room you just came from.

You're careful to completely shut the curtain behind you.

“How can I help you, sir?” You put on your best customer service smile. “I was just about to close the shop, but if it's urgent, I'll help you find what you need.”

The pirate grunts. He's not buying what you're selling at all.

“Perhaps some calming tea? You look like a refined gentleman who would enjoy this.” You hold up a can of tea as if that will help you seem less suspicious.

“What's behind the curtain?” He points behind you accusingly.

“My work area, where I make all the fine products you see before you.”

Stomping forward, he seems to have had enough of your stalling. Fine.

Just as he's about to bash his fist down onto your counter, you grab a suspicious looking dark jar. You hold it up threateningly.

“The hell is that?!” The pirate snarls.

“Haven't you heard? I'm the go-to poison dealer in all the East Blue.” You bluff. “A whiff of this, and you'll sink like a rock, my friend.”

He freezes, but glares at you more fiercely. You pretend to twist the lid.

“Y-you'll kill yourself too, then!” He barks back. “Let's see your bullshit poison then.”

“Oh, but that's what makes me so brilliant.” You grin, laying the act on thick. “I'm immune to all the poisons I make.”

Your hand settles ominously on the lid. “Shall we test who survives?”

The pirate scrambles to leave. He's out before you can blink. Without missing a beat, you lock the front door and draw all window blinds down.

You rest your back against the door. Letting out a loud exhale, you almost let yourself slide down to the floor. How long do you have to deal with pirates like that?

Thoughts of yesterday with Sanji at the market fill your thoughts. If only all days could be like that, where the worst of your problems had been a peppermint shortage.

“You guys can come out, now.” You call out to the Straw Hats.

“Uh... Is that really poison?” Usopp asks, staying very far away from the jar.

You laugh, though it comes out airy due to your tiredness. “No, those are just some herbs I left to ferment.”

“How brilliant of you, love.” Sanji is beside you in a few strides. Him and those long legs.

“Was he the one you guys were hiding from?” You ask. The crew members shake their heads.

“No, actually.” Nami says. “We were hiding from a bunch of—”

Your shop explodes.

Sanji is quick to pull you into his arms and shield you from the debris with his own body. For a minute that feels like eternity, you can't hear anything. Your ears are ringing, and dust clouds over all your years of hard work. You sob into Sanji's arms.

“No!” You cry out.

Marines step into the shop, wood planks cracking and glass panels shattering under their feet. There are so many of them. You don't understand. Even if you hid the Straw Hats here, they shouldn't be allowed to destroy private property, right? Right?

“We got a report of illegal poisons in the area.” The leading officer states, his face stoic. “Just our luck that we run into pirates as well.”

You look to the Straw Hats, all of them are positioned to fight, save for Sanji. He's still cradling you protectively.

Taking a shaky deep breath, you lift your hand to rest it on Sanji's arm. He instantly looks down at you, silently asking if you're alright.

You're not yet, and if you're being honest, you'd rather stay in his arms until everything is over. But you nod anyway. Sanji gently lets you go and gets ready to face your new enemies.

“Get them all.”

Chaos breaks, and you run to duck behind a shelf that toppled over. The Straw Hats put up a good fight, but there are just too many Marines. Your eyes find round bottles of herbs scattered around you, and you come up with an idea.

“Guys!” You yell. “Buy me some time!”

“Anything for you, darling.” Sanji winks at you before sending a Marine flying. You gape at his audacity. The rest of them don't even react, but you notice they rotate slightly, surrounding you to keep you from being interrupted.

Grabbing as many of the bottles as you can, you stuff them with shards of wood and more dried leaves. You take rocks from the debris and strike them together.

With a few sparks, the herbs and leaves catch fire. You act fast, throwing the bottles at the Marines.

The bottles shatter, bursting into flames once they hit their mark. The Marines panic and become disoriented, giving the Straw Hats an advantage despite being outnumbered.

Eventually, the Marines run and scatter, leaving only the few bravest of them to fight. The Straw Hats make quick work of them.

When the battle is over, you watch the dust settle over the ruins of your apothecary. It's going to take years to earn enough berry to restore how everything once was. You can't help but feel heartbroken.

Sanji sits down in the rubble next to you, wrapping you in another embrace. You let yourself fall into him.

“We'll help you get everything back. I promise.” He swears, voice slightly muffled into your hair.

“Or, you could come with us! Join our crew!” Nami hits Luffy on the shoulder.

“What? It's true!” Luffy insists. “We need someone like her!”

You pull back from Sanji's embrace to look at him. He doesn't say anything, but something tells you he wishes for you to come with them. The others look at you expectantly as well.

No one speaks to persuade you further. But when you compare this rag-tag team to your ruined apothecary, your answer suddenly feels very clear. If you're to slave away to earn the berry for rebuilding your home, why not spend that time with them?

The back of the shop is less affected, even if the sight is still dreadfully sad. Your notes are thankfully intact, and you're able to find a bag and shove some extra clothes into it. It saddens you that you're so quick to pack up your life, but you'll come back. Someday.

When you return to the others, they're all smiling. Sanji more so, but you should have expected that.

He holds out his hand, and you reach out to take it.

“I change my mind,” You jest. “I'll take that romantic candlelit dinner now.”

Sanji laughs loudly while he guides you to walk over the rubble safely. You catch some of the others laughing too, but they walk a ways ahead you and Sanji.

“Like I said,” He says with his signature grin, “Anything for you, my dear.”

Your mind must be playing tricks on you, because he still smells like peppermint. Now, that's really not fair.

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ MORNING SICKNESS: SHANKS

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Being pregnant with Luffy, your first child with your husband Shanks, is a dream come true... But that doesn't make it any easier to deal with the recurring nausea."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : TRANS MASC! Reader, TRANS MALE! reader, FTM reader, pregnant men, he/his pronouns, gay relationship, gay marriage, two daddies being happy, Shanks is an over-the-top father and husband, Luffy is your son's name, Shanks calls himself Daddy and calls you Papa (revenge against fan fiction with the reader being called Mama) Nausea due to pregnancy, Shanks is a very worried father and husband

꒰ WC ꒱ : 676

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : I've been on a roller coaster these last few weeks and I had decided to post on Saturday thanks to Bibi, but I almost changed my mind, I decided to be strong and post even though I was feeling like shit. I'm kind of excited but also extremely unsure about entering the world of imagines male, well we'll see how it goes

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And just like the last few nights you were abruptly woken from your not-so-peaceful sleep by the incredible need to throw up all your dinner. Your body was sweaty and hot even though you were sleeping wearing just a huge shirt from Shanks — one that he bought the wrong size and it was big even on him so it was huge on you — and your kitten print underwear that you got from a joke of Shanks in a Christmas prank.

The bedroom window was open, now with a mosquito screen since your husband was paranoid about you being bitten by an insect and dying since your pregnancy announcement, and you took advantage of the light breeze to sit on the bed and calm down a little to see if the nausea went away. There was a humidifier running, the curtains swayed slightly, and there was a child's light in the room that Shanks had bought in fear of you tripping when you got up in the dark and hurting yourself.

Sometimes you questioned whether Shanks knew that you weren't that fragile just because you were pregnant, after all you were proud of all your strength and masculine muscles... But you wouldn't deny that his extra care calmed your heart a lot. The bed was also huge, the redhead wanted to buy a bigger one after reading news about parents crushing their children for sleeping together in small beds, of course there was no point in explaining to him that this was sensational news since before you could argue he had already ordered it and paid for the new furniture.

A kick in the stomach and your dinner turning around as it climbed up your throat made you stop remembering how careful your sleeping husband was, you quickly got out of the soft covers and ran to the bedroom's bathroom. You quickly knelt on the rug in front of the toilet and it wasn't long before you were vomiting again, you loved your baby and you loved being pregnant, but you would also love to stop vomiting everything you tried to swallow.

“huh, he woke up early today” Shanks yawned as he awkwardly entered the bathroom, luckily the room was big enough for both of you.

“I shouldn’t have had dinner” you mumbled nauseously as you rested your head on the cold part of the white ceramic.

“You always say that but you always have dinner… Honestly you haven't stopped eating since you got pregnant” Shanks laughed and sat next to you, taking a towel from the cupboard and slowly wiping your face.

“It’s not me… It’s Luffy… He’s hungry like you” you teased Shanks.

“Of course… Hungry like his daddy and hyperactive like his papa” Shanks responded to the provocation and you knew he was right. If your unborn child was hungry because of the redhead, then he was also hyperactive because of you. Since, as everyone always said, you had extreme difficulty sitting around doing nothing, always looking for something to do and have fun.

“The perfect combination” you laughed tiredly as you felt the nausea slowly going away.

“Completely perfect… But look, this kid will find himself with me when he's born, making my husband vomit everything I cook for him” Shanks snorted, pretending to be irritated “He's thinking that money falls on trees so I can spend it on food and he can make you put it out?!”

You laughed but soon felt some light kicks in your stomach that made you both gasp.

“I think that was Lu telling you to go all out and he’s going to kick your old ass” you laughed, rubbing your stomach affectionately.

“Brat… Stubborn like his papa” the redhead laughed and gave you a wink “Okay, let's get you off the ground and put you in front of the window… And get you a glass of water too” the man smiled as he stood up ready to help you.

Maybe pregnancy wouldn't be so terrible if you had a husband who was so worried about you…

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[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere, implied cannibalism, poison, vomiting, manipulation, obsession, murder, blood, posessiveness

Your totally normal isekaid househusband

What can I say? Life is good

Ok, maybe the circumstances the two of you met are a bit... “unusual” to say the least but hey, your marriage is more than beautiful

You go to work, bring home the bread and butter and Trey is happily doing house chores all whilst baking cakes for you

Sometimes he even gives some of those cakes to the neighbors

For some weird reason he won't let you eat those but who am I to ask such things?

The two of you are absolute darlings to the old ladies of your place

Always behaving like the perfect couple, never fighting, never having any problems...

Although you two do get a bit stressed whenever someone asks how you met

I mean, it is a bit unbelievable to say “One day he literally fell from the sky through my roof leaving a huge hole behind. Yes, that is why I needed a new roof that one time.”

So it's always just like “He had a bakery in a town far away from here and we just met there.”

Trey is also great with the neighborhoods children

What else did you expect? The guy has siblings and even though he says “baking with love is nonsense” does not mean he is an emotionless rock

Ah yes, baking... for some reason he refuses to let you enter the kitchen on some days

But that is not important. Maybe he is just deep-cleaning the place. You know, keeping it clean. What is important though are the disappearances of some of your neighbors

That old creepy guy that had eyed you with that look in his eyes? Suddenly gone. But it's sad that the elderly lady who had always spoiled you with sweets, even though you were over the age of that typical stereotype, was also gone

You just hoped she had moved to another place and forgot to tell everyone about that... uh... rather unlikely but hope dies last

Lately you had seen light from the kitchen on some nights only for your dear spouse to come out before you could enter and send you back to bed

He was surely just busy. Ah, what luck you had, meeting him even though it should be impossible

You aren't the only one who thinks like that. He himself knows that your meeting goes against all the odds, and even more, him becoming your partner

Trey is a realistic person. He doesn't realize things so he is also aware that if it was you falling into his world you probably wouldn't even have taken notice of him

And oh, does he love your attention. So much in fact that he can't help but stare through the window at the noisy little bas- ahem, lovely neighbor from behind the curtains, molten gold drilling holes into their head

The first time he did it Trey had to vomit, the stench of iron and something that makes a human run away because it screamed their mortal demise clogged his nose

But he continued, in the morning he had a pretty cake

When he handed it to the older lady he almost felt guilty, then he remembered the time they stole from you which could be spend with him

Then he repeated the process the next evening

When you had asked him about the cake baking in the oven he had told you that it was not for you, a new recipe that he wanted to give another neighbor to try before giving it to you

Good thing you haven't found the bottle of rat poison in the back of the shelf. A special ingredient filled with love just for your neighbors. Isn't he such a great husband caring for the community?

Never for you though. Sorry, darling

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Nineteen

Brushing Teeth - Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Grief is cruel and just because you and Joel live in the safe haven that is the Jackson community it does not mean you're immune to it.

Possibly the saddest (but also kinda best) thing I have written so far.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: 2400

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, jackson era, No use of y/n, Crying, past trauma, Survivor Guilt, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Tooth Brushing, This is like seriously sad pls beware, Author has already scheduled a therapist appointment

AO3 LINK

notes: a huge thank you to my beta babes maria and aura for reading this a month in advance. i love you both so much.

this is a really, really sad fic. it's likely not gonna go the way you think. please continue with caution <3

_________________________________________

Circles

He died just after sunrise.

It had been supposed to be a simple shift, guarding the perimeter from one of the high posts along the fence that stretched around Jackson. The wood had been icy, slippery. There had been a railing. But when his heart had failed and he had collapsed to the ground, slipping over it like an ice rink, it hadn't been able to stop his body from falling.

There was nothing that could have been done. He had been old, older than most. Even with modern medicine, his condition would have caught up to him sooner or later.

Fate had decided on sooner.

Word hadn't reached Joel before he had left for patrol and so he had spent the day clearing Infected and checking the lookouts, unaware of the tragedy that had, for once, struck within the very borders of home. It wasn't until he came back in the early evening, that he noticed something was off.

There were no children bustling around on the playground, no adults studying the notice boards to see which movie was on tonight or who offered guitar lessons. Curtains were drawn shut. It was quiet.

The somber look on Tommy's face, who was waiting for Joel at the stables, was enough to send him into a panic.

Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

Tommy must have seen it coming because he had already raised his hands, as if surrendering to his brother, ”They're both fine.” Joel nodded solemnly as Tommy explained, repeating the events of the day in a few words.

He could live with that. As long as it wasn 't Ellie. Or you. Never you.

Ellie had spent the day with you, trying to look after you, doing the best she could. She was waiting in the large armchair in the living room, as close to the front door as she physically could.

Joel practically barges in, his gaze quickly checking the adjacent rooms. When he sees Ellie, he immediately relaxes a bit, knowing that at least someone has been here. Someone who kept watch.

“How is she?” He asks, disregarding any need for a greeting towards the teenager. She doesn't seem to mind, instead hopping up from the seat and walking with him, the pair quickly moving through the hallway.

“I gave her some food. I don't think she ate any of it. She wouldn't talk to me either. I'm sorry, Joel, I-'' He quickly shakes his head. He'll take care of Ellie, reassure her that she did a good job, which he undoubtedly knows she did. But Ellie is not the person in this house who needs him the most right now. Ellie is not the person who lost someone today.

“Later, okay?” Joel demands softly. His voice carries an underlying, stern tone that he rarely uses anymore. In other circumstances, Ellie would get mad at him, but she understands. He is in survival mode. He is making sure the people he loves are still there. He is scared.

Joel remembers your form that he had left behind this morning. Still in bed, sleepy, only reluctantly pressing a small kiss to his lips, the sweet promise of a few more minutes of sleep too tempting to ignore. He remembers the night before, the bubbly, talkative personality you usually have, that is a just little too much for him sometimes.

Your world had changed in just a few hours, a few minutes. And he hadn't been here.

Why had he not been here?

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks hesitantly and only then Joel realizes that he's stopped in the middle of the hallway. He continues his steps.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Ellie gives a shrug next to him but Joel barely notices, still too caught up in his thoughts.

He needs to see you. See that you are fine, just like Tommy had promised. Not truly fine, maybe, but alive. Breathing.

As they reach the old, wooden staircase, Ellie stops, taking in Joels gaze, that to her, still seems miles away, ”She wouldn't leave the bed. I barely recognized her.”

Joel just nods, his worry growing with every word. His grip on the banister tightens slightly, knuckles turning white.

“Go see her,” Ellie whispers and gently nudges him.

“Right.” That finally gets Joel to move again, his voice a little higher than usual and trembling slightly. Ellie knows he is close to crying. She presses her fist into his back a little harder and he nods again before he hurries up the stairs two steps at a time.

It's not until he reaches the end of the landing, until he is two steps away from the bedroom door that he slows down. Once again, uncertainty takes over his body. What does he say? Do? He's not equipped to handle this, he's not good with emotions, much less sad ones.

He's not sure what happens. An instinct takes over, steering his body steadily towards the door and pulling his fingers towards the brass handle. Maybe it's some old, parental instinct from before the outbreak, that he still carries buried in the back of his mind. Either way, he sends a silent, thankful prayer that it's there, that it allows him to continue putting one foot in front of the other despite having no idea how to.

The wooden door creaks slightly as he pushes it open. It's a familiar sound, more comforting than unnerving.

Joel is greeted by cold and darkness. He shivers as he steps into the room:'' Jesus Christ.” He mutters under his breath. He doesn't have to wait until his eyes adjust to the light. He can find his way in the darkness. 

He quickly turns the radiator higher, another familiar noise flaring up. Familiar is good. Familiar is safe.

He doesn't want to turn on the big light but he finds the switch for the small lamp in the corner and finally, he can take in the scene before him. His gaze is immediately caught by the bed in the middle of the room.

Whenever he goes out on patrol and you get the bed to yourself, you make use of his absence by occupying the entire bed, sprawling yourself out in the middle of the worn-out mattress. More than once, he had to physically fight you if he wanted his side of the bed back.

Now, however, you aren't in your usual position. You are curled up, tucked into the far corner of the bed, blankets and pillows wrapped around what Joel can only assume to be your body, some of them resting against the headboard.

It almost looks like you are trying to protect yourself, shield yourself from the grief that is knocking on the door downstairs, that is coming the same way he just has, slipping into the dark, cold room. A nest, to fend off the grief. Joel knows it wont work. He has tried.

A few of your limbs poke out from holes in the fortress of pillows and blankets and Joel softens slightly as his gaze wanders over them. He suddenly wants to run again, but he is afraid it'll startle you so instead, he approaches slowly, softly, like one may approach a wounded animal.

The bed dips slightly beside you as he sits down, his strong arms immediately wandering under the covers, searching for you. He finds the fabric of a shirt first, and then there's skin. Soft, gentle skin and he wants to cry with the familiarity of it. Looking down, he isn't surprised to see the shirt he had discarded last night, his favorite green flannel, now wrapped around your trembling body.

The thoughts come back. A small body, wrapped in a flannel shirt. He has seen it often enough to fill several lifetimes. He doesn't mind it anymore.

He knows it's a lie. He does mind it.

They had wrapped Sarah in flannel.

He can still see her. Still see the shirt, stained with blood. There had been so much blood.

Joel thinks about his daughter, his everything, his whole world, taken from him, wrapped in a shirt and buried in a backyard under a tree somewhere in Texas.

Joel knows he can't have these thoughts right now. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're bursting. He pushes the thoughts away. Later.

His right arm finds your hair and you finally make a noise, whimpering softly at finally, finally having him here with you.

The blanket is gently pulled to the side, allowing Joel to see your face. Your hair is messy, your cheeks tear-streaked, eyes red and puffy from crying. You look like you have just been through hell.

Joel reminds himself you probably have.

His insides clench as he pushes down his own tears. And then you open your mouth.

“It was supposed to be my shift.”

That's all it takes. He hates himself because he's supposed to be there for you, he's supposed to be strong. But the fear is stronger, the knowledge that he could've lost you today gripping him again and not letting him breathe.

He leans forward in an attempt to hide his tears, his face, his own sorrow and you break too, shamelessly sobbing into his chest. You stay entangled like this, bodies pressed tightly together, you crying loudly and him crying silently. It feels like a long time. Your voice becomes hoarse but the sobs wont stop. You're not sure they ever will.

Joel moves, eventually, kneeling down on the floor so that his face is level with yours and he can study your face. His hands remain on your skin, not once breaking contact. He rubs small circles into your skin, caressing every part of you he can reach. 

Nothing can touch you as long as he does.

“Gonna help you a bit. That alright, darlin'?” He mumbles softly. Your answer comes automatically, the same one you've given Ellie throughout the day, ''I'm not hungry.”

“I know you ain't,” Joel mumbles. He lets it slide:” But we should clean you up. Just a bit.” He promises as he leans forward and kisses your cheek. You don't struggle as he picks you up more carefully than ever, hoisting you onto his hips and wrapping his arms around your legs to keep you upright against his chest. It's almost like being carried by a father.

Joel takes you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the counter. There is a bald patch on the wall where a mirror used to be until he gave it to Ellie. He always gives.

Patiently, he waits until the water is lukewarm and then begins wiping your face with a washcloth. You probably smell but you can't bring yourself to care and neither does Joel.

He moves on to your hair, untying the knot that once resembled some sort of hairstyle and brushing through it with his fingers for a moment before tying it back again. His movements are so gentle, so smooth. You watch as he grabs your toothbrush, gently wetting it and putting some toothpaste on, his left hand all the while remaining on your thigh.

Joel gently nudges the toothbrush against your mouth and you dutifully open up, allowing him to start brushing your teeth, still as gentle as he can.

He can feel the sadness again, threatening to overwhelm him. He brushes in small circles.

The last time he had done this was with Sarah. She was eight. She had been sick then, caught a stomach bug at soccer camp and thrown up for days. Joel had dragged his mattress to her room, sleeping beside her.

He moves on to the other side of your mouth. More circles.

Sarah had vomited on him, in the middle of the night, staining both the carpet and his pants. He hadn't batted an eye, just stripped the beds and taken her to the bathroom to clean her up. All he had needed was for her to feel better. And if him enduring it would lessen her suffering, he would have chosen it time and time again.

He doesn't say this. He thinks he may, some day. But not anytime soon.

Circles. Joel brushes in circles.

When he's done, he holds a cup to your lips and you lean sideward, spitting into the sink. He is still caressing your thigh, a constant, reassuring touch. He brings his other hand up to your face, using his thumb to wipe the last bit of toothpaste off the corner of your mouth.

“Let's get back to bed, hm?” You don't trust your voice again yet so you just nod and sniffle a bit. As he picks you up again, you feel another wave, a nauseous wave of grief coming down on you. You think he feels it too because he grips you a little tighter. You start crying again.

You return to the mess of pillows and blankets that still cover half the bed. But now he is there with you. His too large frame under the covers next to you, watching with sad, brown eyes as you curl up against him. He pats your hair, leans down and gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It has been ages.

The small streak of light that falls through a hole in the blankets reflects in his broken watch for a split moment. He looks down at it, the motion so familiar still. And he knows. He knows how you feel.

“Get some rest, babygirl,” he whispers. He'll do right by you. He won't let you go through the things he did. You close your eyes, taking in his smell, his warmth. It feels different now.

It could've been her. It could've been her. Thank god it wasn't her.

You're still in his arms, you're still here, still breathing, chest falling and rising in a semi-steady rhythm. He makes the choice in that moment. Or, he realizes it. He feels like he has made it a long time ago.

He will endure it. He will endure everything if it just takes away a little of your grief, of your pain.

He doesn't need to say it. It's an unspoken truth.

Joel Miller will be there.

[centrally-unplanned]

Something I struggle a bit with a sort of disconnect with the current leaders of "professional-quality anime discourse". We live in the sakuga era, where groups like Sakugabooru & Full Frontal Moe are doing really stellar work on peering behind the curtain at the realities of anime productions. They aim to give you the "animators look" at how it all happens, what people are thinking, what studio conditions are, the works. They command the heights from a respect standpoint in my opinion right now, and sort of "drive" analytical discourse.

But they aren't really what I find interesting. I love and need a ton of their work, but in the end the sakuga era is the animator's era; it centers anime-as-art, the people who create, their techniques, etc. That isn't actually my thing! I care about cultural history & casual history, "otaku studies", and consumers of media always outnumber producers of media a hundred to one. They of course exist symbiotically with each other, but the creators side is only ever going to be a part of that. And its not the load-bearing part of questions around why this or that media product succeeded, what it meant to audiences, how it reflects people's relationship with individual media & wider identity norms, etc.

And ironically I think the "peak" of this discourse in western spaces is coinciding with its decline in relevance in Japanese spaces. This is a whole other topic but in earlier eras the telos of technological progress, its intensity and directionality, created a parallel momentum in cultural identity - "new, better anime" seemed always around the corner and people responded to that via identity formation around the momentum. But now, even though technical improvements occur, from an audience perspective the telos is gone. Audiences would actually get a bit wrapped up in things like the digital revolution back then - now its more like trivia, it doesn't shape as much.

There is of course people out there who touch on the cultural & historical topics, I'm no island or anything. But its very diffuse, and other sections of the discourse space are struggling. Great YouTubers exist but imo overall this is not a great time for AniTube, the intensification & legibility of financial success has not inspired that kind of work. Obviously the blogosphere is bleeding heavily. Academic works have gems in there but media studies as a discipline is shackled with awful theoretical concepts and compositional norms, its like pulling teeth with their output every time. And also are generally interested in western fandoms as befitting western academics (and while I do use Japanese academic papers sometimes, the legibility barrier is...its tough).

Beyond just "feeling alone" its an issue because right now I am quite demotivated on this area; I feel in-between ideas, with any potential project seeming dim in its payoff. The default source of inspiration normally is the works of others! Every time I get politics-burned at some point someone else puts out a really good analysis, or even just a good question. Proposing good questions is underrated, its the fuel that powers research. Not to mention "shit keeps happening", you know? Fukuyama may hold an iron grip on the ruleset still but within his bounds the game keeps on playing, which results in flurries of activity that are inspiring. I really lack that for media discourse stuff right now. I can't remember the last time I read a work that I loved. Liked, yes, sure. But you don't get out of ruts with a like.

80% of this is explained by "I am going through a depression episode" lol don't worry I'm not an idiot. But hey, what is Tumblr for if not to rant...

[imaginesbymonika]

“Shame” (Part 6)

A Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader fan fiction

Plot: For the last four years, kaija and Pedro have been dating in secret. The fear of rejection has turned them into a mystery that could only be encountered in yearning looks on red carpets or hands that are touching one another briefly. However, for the longest time, things have been working out that way just fine. But now Pedro's agency wants him to have a PR relationship with another woman and neither kaija nor Pedro is sure if their love is going to survive that.

Warnings: none other than sadness

A/N: you guuuyssss!! hi!!! i was gone for so long (?) i was really busy with university and life, but yeah, im back, i guess <3

Masterlist

Y/N stares at the front door. Her y/e/ced eyes move up and down the black wood until she believes that she must know everything about it. That no one in this world could possibly know more about this one door. She could be wearing a blindfold and be presented with countless different doors- but she would still be able to distinguish between them.

The woman chuckles softly and shuts her eyes. If someone would be able to read her mind, they would most likely assume that she was going crazy. And maybe they were right, maybe she was losing her mind.

After the award show, Y/N immediately hurried home. She informed everyone, that she has to walk the dog. Which is… assumably the most overused excuse in the entire galaxy, and also really stupid considering how she doesn't even have a dog. And also everyone knows that. However, she didn't give anyone any time to think about her words or ask any follow-up questions. As soon as the curtains closed, she rushed out of the venue.

And now she was waiting. For Pedro, of course. For their fight, which was inevitable at this point. Her phone vibrates and when Y/N turns it around she sees that her manager has texted her. "Matthew Gray Gubler reached out to me, apparently he wants your number. Do you know anything about this?" Y/N sighs and tosses the phone across the brown leather couch. She could deal with all of that later, right now the only thing that mattered was Pedro.

She wonders if he is on his way home right now. He hasn't texted or tried to call her yet, so maybe he is at the after-show party. Or maybe, just maybe he went home with his new girlfriend. Y/N wouldn't be surprised if he did. Who would desire to fight for something that seems damaged beyond measure? The actress waits for the typical pain in her chest that always followed her train of thought.

One time Y/N thought that she was experiencing a full-on heart attack. She was sitting at the breakfast table, right next to Pedro who was reading the Times in peace. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a little black and white picture of Melissa, with some text underneath it calling her "the new It-Girl". Suddenly, this unbelievably powerful and painful feeling hit her like lightning. She blinked a few times and swallowed thickly. But she didn't say anything. Perhaps at that moment, she was silently hoping for one, but it didn't happen. Instead, she just reached for the milk.

Y/N lifts her head when she hears the keys in the door. She remembers when they picked out the door. She was the one who wanted a wooden door, while Pedro on the other hand said that he was a big fan of metal doors. Merely because they are able to withhold much more than wood. "You know, I just want us to be safe.", he had told her. Back then it made her heart feel light, now it just makes her want to gag.

The keys turn and a few seconds later, Pedro stands in front of her. "We have to talk."

[theaawalker]

Delusional | Lex Luthor x Fem!OC [1-Shot]

Pairing: Lex Luthor x Rose Holloway Song Inspo: Delusional by Simon Curtis Word Count: 2,433 Summary: desperate to get out under her tyrannic mother's corporative thumb, executive secretary Rose Holloway submits an application for an opening at LexCorp. Much to her surprise, she is asked to interview the next week. The pay is pretty good, and this Lex guy couldn't be as awful as her mother. What could go wrong? Warnings: mild mentions of parental abuse Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

Last thing I remember from my dream was having to tell my angry mother the news about my job. That was enough to get me awake. I scrambled around in my covers and opened my eyes, squirting as the light from the curtains hit my face. At first, I just closed my eyes to block them from the sunlight. But then I realized it was morning, and I forgot to set my alarm last night! I was going to be late on the first day!

I pushed my covers off my body and climbed out of bed, ignoring my slippers that awaited my feet. I looked at my alarm clock, and, as if taunting me, it read 12:21 PM. I grabbed my already ready work attire and took a quick shower. I put on my clothes, did my hair, applied some makeup (not too much, because I don't wanna look as desperate as I was), and brushed my teeth. Into my mall closet I went, searching for some shoes to go with my outfit.

I did my best to fix myself a nutritious breakfast. Nutty bars seemed like the way to go, but they get stuck in my teeth. The last thing I wanted was to be humiliated on my first day - I hadn't felt like that since high school. I managed to make due with a glass of orange juice; just when I put the cold glass to my mouth, a car honked outside. I groaned to myself, knowing who it was, "Mom."

Rushing out the house, I barely remembered to lock the door. I hadn't told my mom about my application for LexCorp, so I knew she was gonna drive to her building instead. That meant I had to somehow sneak past her and make it to LexCorp in time. It's not that far... I hope. 

I swung my business bag around my shoulder and got to the car. Only it wasn't my mom's car. It was... nicer and more modern. The windows were tented so I had no idea who was inside. I didn't know what to do, so I sorta stepped back. The window suddenly rolled down, revealing a face I had known for my whole life.

"Mary!" I squealed with delight, and relief.

"Get in." She ordered. "Or you're gonna be late." I had told her about my application. Well, I told her not to tell our mom about the application. "I can't thank you enough, Mare Bear." I said as I hopped into the nice vehicle. Mary looked at me as she took the wheel.

"You can start by not calling me Mare Bear, Nose." I had to smile at that. She and I call each other cute names sometimes. She calls me nose because, apart from my lips, my nose is my most dominant feature.

"Hang on, little sister." She said, pulling out of my driveway. "LexCorp, here we come."

(Time Skip - At LexCorp Parking)

Butterflies fluttered in my thin stomach as we approached my future workplace. It was so weird; seeing it on the computer was one thing, but being there was another. The building looked so full of purity, energy, and technology. I started to wonder if I could really help improve it. I mean, I wasn't anything more than a secretary of a fashion magazine editor. Also, I had no idea if they'd even accept me. I knew that my mom would hire me because she knew me, but this Lex Luthor probably didn't even know I existed until last week.

"Well, here we are. LexCorp Industries." Mary gave an introduction. I released the sigh I'd been holding in since we pulled up. "Aren't you going in, or...?"

"What if I'm not good enough, Mary?" I blurted out my worry. Mary gave me an eye roll and held my shoulder. "Look. These guys may have worked here longer than you but that doesn't make them better. For all you know, by this time tomorrow you could be doing all their jobs. Besides, any treatment you get is better than mom's." She had such a good point. It was either this or back to being paid to be yelled at by your mom. 

"Okay," I finally said, "I'll-I'll do it." She gave me a nod, and I nodded in returned. We leaned in for a hug, and she wished me luck one last time. I bet was gonna need it. I can't focus when I'm nervous, and when I can't focus I screw things up. But there was no way I was spending another day at that fashion hell. So I picked my bag up and got out of the car. 

Mary waved at me as she drove off. I waited until she was out of sight, and slowly spun around to face the building again. It looked so massive and complex. This may sound weird, but it kind of terrified me. I shook if out though, and marched toward it with a high head.

Inside was not much different than the outside. People were scattered everywhere, and they all looked worthy of being there. One lady walked past me wearing all black with the coolest haircut. I touched my rough, brown hair to find it a plain straight. I never thought I'd say this but I wish I had a rubber band right about now. The place wasn't crowded, but it was far from being empty. 

I looked around for any clue to where Lex's office was. I had an interview with him in ten minutes and I couldn't even find him. I decided to ask one of the employees. I walked further into the work hall until I saw something out of the ordinary. There, in the middle of the room, about six men were playing basketball. I tried to process an excuse for what I was seeing. 'Maybe they're testing their body maneuvers for a video game?' was all I could think of.

Basketball or not, they didn't look as intimidating as everyone else. So I walked up to the court and tapped on the shoulder of closest one, who appeared to be in the middle of shooting.

I cleared my throat.

"Excuse me." He turned and smiled at me. He had strawberry-blonde locks that curled by his jawline. His eyes were blue and playful, and reminded me of two blue balls. He was shorter than me, but only by about an inch. "Sorry to interrupt your game, but I was wondering if you knew where Lex Luthor's office is." He gave me and odd smile.

"Hm. You must my new secretary. How are you? Lex Luthor. Welcome to my little LexCorp." The man held out his hand to me. I looked at it, and, ever so hesitantly, shook it.

Raising an eyebrow, I asked. "You're Lex Luthor?" He odd smile turned into a cheeky one as he giggled.

"Indeed I am. Alexander Luthor Jr., in your presence." He said, slight bowing his head. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't confused. He looked so young, way too young to be running a business. "I'm sorry, I'm confused. You look so..."

"Young? Well..." he turned away for a second to throw the through the hoop. "Age is just a number, correct? And there are infinite numbers to compare to mine, so there's no use in trying to be any other."

I just looked from him to the net and swallowed. "I guess that sounds right." 

"Great! Hm. Yes, yes. You are here for the job." He said, eyes darting down in remembrance. "Executive secretary if I recall." Before I knew it he had his hand on my shoulder blade, and we began walking down the hall to I-have-no-idea-where. But I simply nodded and played along.

"Um, yeah. I used to work as one at my old job."

"Old job, mm? Might I ask where?" I didn't bother looking at him to answer, I just kept my head forward. And judging by my sight, we were headed for an escalator. "Nowhere special. Just a stupid fashion magazine corporation." I scratched my forehead as we boarded the escalator. I let Lex go first, being as though I had no idea where to go beyond the escalator.  The rising staircase made my body feel like it was lifting by itself.

"I see," Lex said. "That explains your chose of clothing décor. Anyway, tell me- Wait! Silly me. I forgot to request your name." He addressed, stepping off his step and placing his foot on the smooth, white tile floor. I copied his movement and we returned to our original pace.

The hallway was all white, and filled with white doors. Any one of those could be mine. All I had to do was get an interview with Lex. First, we had to get to his office.

"My name's Rose. Rose Lee Holloway." I offered a kind smile, one which was returned.

"Rose. Hm." His eyes darted up in thought. "The Latin origin of rose, a flower name from Rosa." He looked back at me. "Did you know the Normans brought Latin to Britain in the 11th century?"

I shook my head. Lex just put his hands in his pockets and stared ahead. "Are you interested in alien studies and research?"

"Um, no. Only what I read on the news about Superman. But do find the fact that one is living here funny."

This made Lex chuckle. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, an alien protecting a species that's not his own just makes us look inferior. Why should we rely on a humanoid destructor rather than weapons of defense? It just sounds dumb."

Lex snapped his finger and pointed at me. "Exactly, Rosie. May I call you Rosie?" 'If I get this job he can call me anything he wants.' I thought.

But I simply replied, "If you want."

We reached the end of the hallway, where, to our right, sat a giant silver door.

"Follow me." Lex led us down the pathway and opened the giant door for me. "In you go." I slipped past him and almost tripped when I saw Lex's office. That place was like two master bedrooms in one giant space. There were chairs in there I've never seen in my life! And that's saying something since my mom used redecorated our living room almost every year.

I was so in shock that I didn't even notice Lex walk past me to his desk chair. I strolled to the front of his desk and sat in small chair, where Lex was seated on the table. He grinned at me, making me even more nervous. We both knew what was about to happen.

"Humor me. What got you interested in this position?"

"I've had previous experience with executive assistance, such as memoing, filing, answering phone calls, and prepping schedules. I also dabble in digital art, so if you need any promo or posters, well, I'm your gal." I chuckled nervously, and he just stroked his chin. "Ahem. I admire what this company has done for the ecosystem repair in other countries. Between partnering with other green companies and philanthropy fundraisers, it- you have really great work." Then it got quiet. "...yeah."

Lex leaned forward, knuckling his silvery desk's edge, and looked into my soul. He studied every inch of my face, my eyes... my soul. It was like he was trying to read my mind. When he got his answer, he exhaled.

"Hm." His lips twitched. "Hm-mm, yes. You have the gaze of a woman on the run." Lex said softly, almost sorrowful, like a therapist. "A lioness, mm, trying to strike out of the pride, make it on her own. Tell me, dear Rosie, who-oh-who are you running from?"

My head drew back and I nearly gulped. Was this man actually telepathic? Either way, he seemed to have me figured out. There was no use in denying it further. If honesty got me a job, then honesty it'll be. I just wish it wasn't such a sore subject.

"My mother." My tongue suddenly tasted foul and acidic. "She's not a very nice mother. Or boss."

"Mommy issues," Lex gestured to me, "meet daddy issues," he gestured to himself, making us both chuckle weakly. I supposed it made sense, hurt child meets hurt child. I wondered to what extend his father hurt him, but put off the question as taboo for an interview.

"Anyhow," he leaned back and continued, "mind if I ask you some professional questions?" He asked, making a yuck face as the word 'professional'.

"Yes, go ahead." I straightened my posture.

"Alrighty. How did you like the building so far?" That was not the question I expected him to ask first, but it was his company. 'Get hired, Rose, get hired.' I cheered myself on.

"Ummm... It's very detailed and finely organized, Mr. Luthor. It's techy but also really chill. Just feels like a good environment people-wise." If my resume didn't cut it maybe sucking up to him would. But he just waved it off.

"Please, call me Lex. It's only fair since I'm calling you Rosie." He had a point. "But does it look like the kind of place you want to work at?"

I looked around the spacious, flawless, white room and sighed. Such a long way from that undersized, secretary desk my mom forced me in.

My pitiful eyes found Lex again. "Very much."

Out of nowhere, Lex suddenly clapped near my face. "Fantastic! Then congratulations, Ms. Rosie. You're hired!" I had to clear my ears to make sure I heard him right.

"Wait, what? I'm hired?" He just nodded like an excited child. "But what about the interview?" I asked, still not understanding his reasons behind hiring me. He bent from his spot on the table to open up a drawer beside his legs.

"That was the interview, my dear Rosie. It began from I first introduced myself." He then pulled something out of the drawer; a red cylinder candy, and offered it to me. "Jolly Rancher?" I gave a clearly puzzled look, raising my eyebrow. "It's cherry." He offered again. 

With nothing to lose except my job there, I accepted.

"Okay." I smiled tightly.

But instead of handing it to me, Lex leaned in to put it in my mouth himself. For a second, I felt his cold, steel fingers brush on the tip of my lips before departing. Then he licked those fingers and smiled from ear to ear like nothing happened.

Being the kind person I am, I gave the smile back. He might have been a bit odd, but I had a feeling Lex was gonna grow on me.

#lex luthor#dc#bvs#imagine#imagines#DC imagines#dc imagine#lex luthor imagine#lex luthor x reader#lex x reader#lex imagine#bvs imagine#batman vs superman#reader insert#reader#xreader#fandom#multifandom#request

[iriswestallenn]

The discourse on Saltburn is so interesting to me because you either choose to take the movie as a fun romp or a movie "that had nothing [new] to say." Or that things happened just for shock value.

While there's definitely an argument to be made that this film had nothing/little to say, (as I am struggling with some themes they seemed to drop halfway through as well,) I just took this movie as a fun romp haha. You have to sit back and remember... they drew curtains back after a major character death and the entire room was RED! They isolate their black family member. They put a deer costume on Oliver during his bday party. A DEER. This movie was never trying to be subtle.

I've seen some crazy takes like "rich people good?" lmao Felix is arguably the 'nicest' family member right? Jacob Elordi and the script honestly do a really good job showing he's just as shitty as his family. After telling Oliver about his life, he asks Oliver, what about you? Cmon, what else? Siblings? ANYTHING interesting about you? Oliver should not have lied... if he didn't though, do you actually believe Felix would have kept talking to him? Felix gathered his family around and told them exactly "what happened" to Olivers mom and dad. No one would DO THAT! Especially if you've invited this person to your home!!

This internet age refuses to accept multiple things can be true at the same time haha when Felix learned from Farleigh that Ollie and Venetia hooked up, Felix STOMPED to the breakfast table. Folded his arms, ignored Ollie, made no eye contact. Then admitted he didn't want Ollie to be with Venetia, he had a problem with THE LAST GUY he brought to their home being with Venetia. They bring a new "poor" person their home every damn Summer. Multiple truths: 1. Felix shouldn't have been friggin killed. 2. Felix was a shitty person. Jesus

I understand the shock value critique. None of the three big scenes came across like shock value to me personally. I think it's because 1. It was all coming from Oliver. Oliver slurped the tub water, he fucked the grave, he put the period blood back in Venetias mouth. I think if everyone in the family was also doing weird fucked up shit, I'd be like, oookay. Now how is everyone here a weirdo? lol but it was just Oliver. 2. I thought this was a cannibalism movie lmao so I was actually expecting worse!

Obviously people can have different opinions but this movie and its discourse have been super interesting to me. I really enjoyed this movie but my main negative is that it does present itself in the beginning of the movie as though it has something to say but it doesn't have much to say? You're also not made aware that Olivers main objective was the house. Or if it wasn't the house at the start, at what point did it become about getting everything from the family?

Remember the friend Ollie had at the school that he later dropped? That friends last words to Ollie were, "he'll [felix] will get bored of you." Or something like that. That was so dumb lmao Venetia says this exact thing later in the movie. Why not make that friends last words to Ollie about status? Tie that into what Farleigh begins to tell Ollie and make Ollies goal clear to the audience even before the "plot twist."

That scene in school with the tutor. Oliver read the whole summer reading list. He came to college ready to go by the rules and succeed. There's no clear turning point imo. When Farleigh gets there late, doesn't care, definitely didn't read the reading list, and the tutor is like, "I knew your hot mom. We weren't friends, I just admired her from afar." I wish there was more focus on Oliver realizing following the rules would get him nowhere he wanted to be.

I ended up enjoying this movie because I'm satisfied with how fun it was, how GORGEOUS it looks, and how great the performances are. Not good, great performances truly. It's so sad that this could have been a 'no plot, just vibes' kinda movie. But instead there is some semblance of a plot lol it's just not fully fleshed out. I still think people are taking it way too seriously and the genuine distain for it is odd but there's a tug and pull here for sure.

[positivelybeastly]

Would you consider beast being a closet bisexual @

"I'm an open heterosexual, thank you very much, and I would recommend that in future, you keep such speculation to yourself."

"Ehehehey, well, wow, that's quite the question, not often I get accused of being a closet anything, but, ah, pretty firmly straight over here, friend."

"Despite what you may have heard from the press or a certain ex-girlfriend of mine, I am quite firmly in the heterosexual camp."

"I think someone needs to have gone on a date sometime in the last year to be qualified to be anything sexual, no?"

"Asexual aromantic. And if you ask again, I shall be displeased."

"Do you have a pulse? Are you happy with scalpels in the bedroom? Actually, your answer to that second question doesn't particularly matter, we'll get you warmed up in no time at all."

All right, so this is one of those moments where I have to pull back the curtain a little bit and talk about how I play a character who is canonically heterosexual, but whom I read to be bisexual because it's truer to the character as I find them.

Now, you know, I actually misremembered how this conversation went? I remembered Emma saying that Hank had never had so much as a gay thought, but that's not what she says here. She say that Hank has never had any kind of physical relationship with another man, and . . . you know what, I kind of believe that to be true.

Because as much as I fucking love THIS moment, it's not a relationship.

We can all agree that a kiss is not a relationship.

However.

. . . Guys, Hank is, like . . . really queer.

This post sums it up nicely, but yeah, Hank acts in a very over the top, dandified manner, over speaking and over-exaggerating everything about himself so that you won't pay attention to the blatantly obvious. He performs masculinity in a way that reads as overcompensating because he feels like he's been othered by his mutation.

There's also panels like this.

"Flirt with everything this side of Boy George."

Boy George being the androgynous gay icon of the 1980s, yes?

And this is coming from Hank's girlfriend, who he has admitted in dialogue to only really being with because she feels stable and safe and familiar, a tether to his old life in a time when he feels without a direction in life?

Like, this isn't me putting words into Hank's mouth, this is HIS dialogue during a time when he was arguably his most heterosexual! Yeah, you could just read it as him having a wandering eye, because he's a very flirtatious fellow, but that really isn't how it reads, is it? It reads as, I need reassurance I'm doing adult, normal things while my life goes weird, abnormal places.

It reads as, I think I'm kinda fucking queer but I'm too afraid to admit it.

Because lemme be real with you, this is Hank at his most heterosexual, but there's. Some. Stuff. Going on here.

"I was GOING to go out on a date with you, really pretty girlfriend, but then my MALE friend turned up and I just got so excited that I went out with my MALE friend and am basically hanging on his every word and eager to impress him, while the straight people at the table (Isaac and Dolly) are on an actual date, and Overmind sounded concerned about three wheeling a date when they asked to come with?"

Ladies and gentlemen, I am a gay man, and I have never been in just a towel around my best friend while he scrubbed another man's back, because that's just a little gay.

Hey, did you know Bobby's gay?

I don't bring that up for any real reason, just, you know.

And then there's Simon.

Oh boy is there Simon.

From Earth-763, but.

Like.

Come on, man.

When Logan and Hercules did this shit, people were celebrating in the streets because it confirmed bisexual Wolverine, but when Hank and Simon do it, no-one gives a fuck.

But that's an alternate universe. All they've done in 616 is kiss (GAY), so maybe it's just, you know, horsing around.

Right?

Hank, you don't look happy to be put down.

Hank never smiles like this on the X-Men. I'm not exaggerating. I've read X-Men comics for nearly 20 years, and Hank does not smile around other people like he does around Simon Williams. He looks fulfilled. He looks free. He looks delighted, constantly.

Are you two gonna fucking hold hands, like, WHAT?

And you know what, let's talk about the X-Men.

Scott, for someone who said very firmly that Hank wasn't gay before, you don't even throw that in there first?

Is it because of what comes next?

I'm - sorry? What in the FUCK are you trying to say to me?

And let's, for a moment, turn to Dark Beast. Because he has some words on the matter.

You know what, yeah, Dark Beast does seem like the idea to suck, fuck, thrust and kill his way through a Tuesday night, honestly.

And look, I know that alternate universes are shaky ground to be drawing conclusions from, but, like . . . this is. Getting to be rather a lot of very suggestive dialogue.

Look, I get that there's not quite the same amount of outright coding that Bobby had before he was forced out of the closet (Cloud, Emma Frost's prodding at his mind, all the stuff stacking up across Lobdell and Austen and Liu), but it's still . . . questionable. Isn't it? Like, at this point, I have to question why we think Hank has to be straight. Which is why I don't think he is.

So, now we get to the point of the evening where I pull at the curtain, because how Hank talks about himself in my threads works according to a certain kind of logic - canonically, as of right now, 21st of January 2024, he's officially straight, so any references to canon events will be as if he's 'straight' but actually just closeted bisexual. Because I care about continuity and keeping my facts straight and drawing as closely from the comics as possible - within reason - but my interpretation still takes precedence.

And my interpretation is that Hank, at any point in his life, is a bisexual man who feels afraid to admit it. But here's the question you're going to ask - WHY is he afraid to admit it?

You could go with an answer that draws on canon, and point out that when he tested the waters with coming out as gay, Scott and Emma both basically verbally smacked him and said he wasn't.

But that's not my style. I don't personally read it that way.

In my mind, Hank considers coming out to be That One Last Step Past Normal that goes too far. Like, it's one thing if he's a blue furred, canonically kinky, canonically weird, basically canonically bipolar, canonically psychologically damaged beast, but if he's a blue furred kinky weird bipolar psychologically damaged bisexual beast, that's the point where people will turn on him and be disgusted.

I could see him drawing that invisible line and deciding, I have to keep this one aspect of me to myself because I can't trust people to accept that from me. I think Hank has conditioned himself to believe that being accepted is something he has to earn over and over again, in part because of how Xavier schooled the X-Men's train of thought on that, but also because, unlike Nightcrawler, he knows what it's like to go from passing to not passing, and experiencing that scarred him in a way?

Like, one of the last bits of good Hank content we got before Krakoa was that Christmas special where he's back at his parents' for the holiday, and he can hear them talking from downstairs, and they're their usual lovely sweet selves, but they mention wanting grandkids, and . . . for someone whose bedrock, whose psychological wellbeing, is so incredibly dependent on other people, especially his parents and friends, I could see him being terrified of threatening that, even if it means he has to hide a part of who he is (perhaps unnecessarily).

There may be a degree of that where I'm projecting, because I had to deal with my dad being very heteronormative for a while after I realised I was gay, and even though I was certain he wouldn't reject me because of it, it felt easier to just not challenge that and let it slide because What If, you know?

But I feel like it makes sense for how Hank is, with his very tenuous relationship with feeling accepted, and I feel like this also accounts for why Emma 'saw' that he was straight in New X-Men, because he's wound himself into a psychological knot to the point where he reads as straight telepathically, even though he doesn't act like it and isn't.

If there weren't hints, I'd be inclined to be like, okay, maybe I'm just reading it this way because I see myself in Hank and him being a bit more like me makes me happy, but then there are GENUINE hints. The Exiles relationship, the fact that everyone basically treats Hank as Simon's emotional support, EVEN HIS GIRLFRIEND, and then the DeMatteis comment from Vera about how he flirts with everything this side of Boy George.

This isn't looking at pre-Krakoa Logan and Scott and thinking, yeah, they have tension, they want to fuck, this is looking at this guy who is extremely sex positive, flirtatious, open minded, and hearing from his girlfriend that he doesn't confine himself just to the purely feminine.

And it's also, like . . . like, I've talked about this with my boyfriend, and people love to throw out the YOU'LL JUST SHIP ANYTHING accusation, and maybe that's kinda true for some people, but I find I don't do that. Like, there are people out there who ship Hank with Cyclops, and I'm like . . . sure, fine. I don't personally see it, but you go for it, my dude.

If I genuinely did just want Hank to be an action figure that I smash with other action figures in a gay way, I feel like I'd have a stronger reaction, but instead, I look at the way he is with Bobby, and with Simon, and even, to a degree, with Logan (pre Krakoa, obvs), and I'm like . . . this is not the way a straight man acts. This reads as a bisexual man who doesn't feel like he can be 100% himself because he feels as though he's already asking a lot of people to accept him as he presents himself to be.

Hank's entire character from, like, moment one makes so much sense when you understand that he's basically always playing someone else. Sometimes it's who he wants to be, sometimes it's who he thinks other people need him to be, a lot of the time it's who people want him to be - like, I was reading the 2004 Nightcrawler solo the other day, and Kurt is internally narrating about how everyone on the X-Men is just an emotional basket case EXCEPT Hank, and I'm like . . . THIS.

THIS RIGHT HERE, is what the problem is! No-one on the X-Men is capable of seeing that Hank is constantly performing, and just how exhausting it is. That's why Simon is such a breath of fresh air, because Simon doesn't need him to perform, he just needs Hank to be . . . fuck, man, he just needs Hank to be happy, because that makes him happy, and the sheer lack of self-interest inherent in that dynamic is such a GIANT part of why I think Hank finds Simon so attractive. Like, imo, Scott's so insistent that Hank isn't gay during the New X-Men arc because of all of this, because he fell for the act, because he thinks this is just another joke that Hank is gonna duck behind.

Scott is SO INSISTENT that Hank isn't gay, and it's like, bro . . . Scoot . . . how do you know? You barely know what you want on a good day, and you think that just 'cause you and Hank hung around in the OG X-Men locker rooms for three years that you know him better than anyone else? He was on the Avengers and the Defenders and he has so many friends that you just DON'T KNOW ABOUT. How. Do. U. Kno. Scoot. Like, in universe, if Hank was working his way up to maybe coming out, and using the excuse of a joke to do it, THAT kind of reaction, and Emma TELLING him that he isn't gay, would push me RIGHT back in the closet.

If there wasn't coding, if there wasn't a genuine basis to this, it wouldn't have come up in Exiles, honestly. Like . . . okay, so multiversal stories are an excuse to do off the wall shit, right, and especially make characters gay just to push and prod and see what actually changes, right, like Governor Logan and Hercules, but they can also reveal a good amount of truth about a character out of what DOESN'T change.

And on a meta level, like, SOMETHING made Jeff Parker think Hank and Simon worked. He didn't pick Hank and Bobby, he didn't pick Hank and Hercules, he didn't pick Hank and Warren - Hank has NO shortage of male friendships you could pick from, but he picked Simon, and it's because there's enough there that even if you don't buy it for 616, it makes sense for a multiversal thing. Which means there's SOMETHING THERE.

And Ben Percy, cursed be his name, only added to that with X-Force. The idea that Simon is somehow going to be the catalyst for whatever awakening of classic, GOOD Hank is going to happen is just so . . . like, he still clearly cares for Abigail? They were on panel doing the eye socket thing? But, and this is partly because of who Abigail is, the narrative did not change because of her presence. But it does when Simon's around.

Yeah, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but sometimes a cigar is something to unpack. Like, I really Do Not Know how Hank became 'the straightest X-Man,' because A) have you fucking read Avengers and Defenders, and B) even discounting ALL of that . . . do you not find Hank's way of acting to be a little . . . you know . . . effete? Like, yeah, it's an act, he's playing the dandy, he's offsetting his appearance, but there are other things you can do to offset the Beast.

So why does he always go back to the brightly coloured suits, the loud fashion, the high energy, the camp, the billion dollar words - to put it bluntly, why does he always seem to act just a lil' fruity?

So, yes, in my mind, he's a closeted bisexual man, and that's how I play him. Thank you for coming to my lecture.

[diazpatcher]

There's always mom

a short fic about what happened to Castiel after the Empty.

I was listening to "O superman" by Laurie Anderson, while writing this.

Read after cut or on AO3

Castiel opened his eyes slowly, a stickiness to them he hadn't felt in his life. The empty was dark as it had been the first time around. He shouldn't be awake. "Hello," Castiel jumped to his feet, that wasn't the Empty. That was something else he could feel it, or rather he couldn't feel it. "Hello?" His throat was raw, like he spoke for the first time in centuries. "You're finally awake! I was waiting for you." Castiel still couldn't make out where the voice was coming from, or why he didn't feel like he was in danger, rather he felt like coming home. Even different than heaven. "You were?" His footsteps echoed in the Empty as he walked aimlessly, trying to follow the voice. "Of course! Don't you remember me, Castiel?" The voice seemed hurt, by Castiel lack of knowledge and insight, but he couldn't seem to catch up to her. "I'm sorry I don't. Last time I was here, I fought with the Empty, but that's not you, is it?" He tentatively asked.. "No, no, the Empty, I guess you could say it's my child, just like every other thing in the universe." Castiel continued walking, drawn towards an endless corner of the Empty, as if he might find something, someone there. "Your child?" A laugh, the voice had laughed, a warm and kind laugh. "Yes, have you never wondered how Creation and Destruction came to be? Someone made them, I did." There was a shift in the air, Castiel was no longer looking at nothing. Before his eyes like a curtain pulling away, the universe appeared. Stars, planets, and nebulae filling the endless. "So then who are you?" he asked, his eyes burning with the sensation of starring for too long. "I'm the endless universe, a creator, a lover, a care taker-" "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." "Thank you, Castiel." The voice replied, "I am everything. Some call me a goddess, but I've always seen myself more as a mother of everything." Castiel stopped moving, the pull in his chest had disappeared, as if head reached his destination. "Mother? You're the mother of God?" "Yes, but I am also your mother and the mother of all angels who died and all demons. God may have created you, but I made you. All of you." Castiel sat down, his back suddenly finding a wall he could lean against and not disappear into. "You said you waited for me?" Castiel noticed he was wearing the trenchcoat still, and when he rummaged through the pockets, he found Dean's necklace in it. "I did. You were the most special of my creations, an angel that fell, not because he rebelled but because of love. Because you loved humanity more than you loved angels, God and the order of what I created.-" Castiel knows he should be enraged at was the voice, mother is admitting but he couldn't find it in him, to amazed by what he was seeing before him. "So you caused all this pain?" "No, my dear, no. I just make what Creation and Destruction decide to do with it is up to them, but you. You always belonged to me." Castiel watched the star infant of him take shape, an indiscernable face appearing before him, hands colored in the lilac blue of the universe reaching out to him. "Why?" He asked as he looked behind him, the Empty stretching on for forever. "Because Castiel, you are carrying a part of me inside of you." "Doesn't everyone have atoms of the universe in them?" "Yes, but you got them from me personally, that the love inside of you. I gave you my love, and it saved the world, and now you're here, my child. You finally get to rest." The universe before formed a path of stars opening a space for him next to the hands that were reaching out. "You're my mother?" "Yes, my dear. Now come join me and rest." Castiel still had Dean's necklace in his hands, he looked behind him again, the Empty still there, still empty, still no escape, but infront of him, infront of him was a way out in the arms of someone who loved him. There was an escape in the arms of his mother.

[space-mermaid-writing]

The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 2

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter's Note: This is one of the longer chapters because I spontaneously decided to merge to chapters into one. Thanks to my lovely beta @zaria-04

Chapter 2: Why are you wasting my time?

The next time you enter the suite, Loki is standing at the kitchen island, operating the coffee machine. He is wearing Asgardian clothes again, but is giving you such an unexpectedly domestic impression that you look at him in surprise. It's a completely different picture than you got of him yesterday.

Besides, today you have time to look at him a little more closely without feeling the need to be on guard. You see his finely structured features and the long, curly hair that is neatly combed back, with just a single strand falling into his face as if unintentionally.

You wonder if everyone in Asgard looks like supermodels or if that only applies to princes.

Loki doesn't look up as you enter, nor does he otherwise make it known that he acknowledges your presents. Until you hear his voice. "Forgot how to speak, pet?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blink for a moment and realize you've been staring. You force your body to start moving. "I brought breakfast," you announce, setting a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. Then you walk right on to the couch, where you settle into your usual spot.

Loki takes a look inside the bag. "What is this?"

"Brownies."

He leaves it on the counter top and comes over to you with his coffee, which he sets down on the small table in front of the couches. His whole demeanor is so normal, almost domestic, that it amazes you. Gone are the scrutinizing looks and pointed remarks. You can't believe it's going to be so easy.

Loki himself also takes a seat and crosses his long legs. As he does so, he bumps into the table and coffee spills over the rim of the cup onto the glass top. "Oops," he says. "Can you get me a rag?"

You're pulling your notebook out of your bag, reaching for a tissue you carry, which you hand to him. He takes it wordlessly and places it on the coffee stain, setting the cup on top to clean the bottom edge.

"Ah," he says as if he’d suddenly remember something. "I left my own book in the kitchen. Can you bring it to me real quick?" His voice is so charming that you’re about to move before you think about it. At the last moment, however, you change your mind and your butt stays on the cushion.

"I'm sure you can get that yourself," you reply in a neutral tone.

Loki makes no move to stand up. Instead, he turns his head in your direction, looking at the large window behind you. "The sun is blinding me. Draw the curtain, will you, pet?" His words are demanding now.

You look at him and your eyes meet. "I'm not your maid, Loki," you clarify. "If you want your own personal staff, you'll have to talk about that to Tony."

A smirk creeps onto his face. "I thought you were here for me, pet."

"I'm here to make sure you fit in with the team and don't have to be grounded anymore."

"But I would fit in so much better with the team if you were a sweetheart and drew the curtain."

The sarcasm just drips out. He seems to be having an excellent time sitting there, just waiting for you to slip. You are sure that he's driven many people over the edge of their seats with this ploy of his. It’s hard to resist his voice. But you realize that once you start doing whatever he tells you, you won't be able to get out of it.

So you sit quietly and start drawing little doodles in your notebook to distract yourself. "Nice try," you reply simply.

"If you get me those brownies of yours, I'll try them."

"Oh, so that's a negotiation now? How about this: I'll get you the brownies and then we will finally talk about the reason I'm here," you suggest. Normally, you would have told him that he has two legs and can get the bag himself. But you want to see how he reacts.

"Agreed."

It surprises you. You give him a searching look, but he merely nods toward the bag. So you get up and walk to the kitchen counter. But just as you reach out to grab the bag, it disappears before your eyes. You hear an amused chuckle from Loki. "My brother falls for it every time, too."

You turn to him and see that the bag is on the small table in front of him, and he's already holding a brownie, which he bites into.

It's your own fault, you think, sighing silently. You could have seen this coming. You walk back and sit down again. "So," you begin, reaching for your notebook. "Let's talk."

"Ah," Loki says, raising his index finger. "The deal was we'd talk if you got the brownies. But you're sitting here empty-handed. So there's no deal."

A child. You are dealing with a child.

You feel that your patience is slowly coming to an end. Loki seems to notice this, too, because he looks at you as if he were having a lot of fun.

He makes a patronizing gesture. "But I am a generous god," he says "Therefore, I will grant you one question. Choose wisely."

You wonder if the glass top of the coffee table is shatterproof or if it would splinter into a thousand pieces if you threw the Asgardian into it. Then you think about what question you could ask him. But since you don't even know if you'll get a real answer, it probably doesn't matter anyway. "Don't you get bored by just sitting here in the tower all day long?"

"Bored?" asks Loki back, pushing the last piece of the brownie between his lips. "I get new toys all the time. And you really do entertain me excellently, pet. When I think about how much more fun you and I are going to have together..."

His voice trails off as he takes one finger after another into his mouth to lick off the chocolate with relish. As he does so, his eyes are locked with yours.

You can't help blushing a little, even though you try to hide it by drawing your brows together in annoyance.

Just ignore it.

But it's really hard to ignore Loki. He has a presence that you feel, even when he's not in your field of vision. He could probably be standing on the other side of the room and you'd notice him.

"These brownies are to my liking. I demand more of them next time," Loki requests.

It's a small success in your books. "They don't come around every day. But I'm happy to bring them along whenever possible," you explain.

You try to reach for a brownie as well, but once again the bag disappears before your eyes. It makes Loki laugh. At least one of you is having fun.

Finally, you give up and leave for today.

~~

Due to the time difference, it's early afternoon where you live and you're cleaning up some stuff in your cottage. You still have some time before you have to go back to New York and you think about going outside to the garden to see if the berries are ripe yet.

That’s when you hear a loud knock on the front door. When you open it, a middle-aged woman is standing in front of it. She reacts a second too slowly and almost hits you with her next knock. Just in time she stops her fist mid-air. You notice that her dark blonde hair is disheveled and she has deep circles under her eyes.

"Yvette," you greet her, a little surprised. "Did you walk here?"

Tiredly, she shakes her head. "The car is parked down by the road. Can I come in?"

You step aside and make room for her. You've known Yvette Bullion for a couple of decades. She stops by whenever she needs something from you for herself or her family. A medicine, a potion, or sometimes just a look into the cards.

"What can I do for you?" you ask her, leading her into the kitchen where you store most of your work.

"It's about our youngest, Noah. Can you give me something for him once more?" Her French accent comes out as she speaks. You can tell from her voice that she's probably spent the last few nights without sleep and is on the verge of despair. Toddlers can be incredibly exhausting. Especially when the family's werewolf genes are freshly bursting out.

"Has it gotten worse again?" you huff. "It used to be better, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but it's been bad again for a few days. He often changes forms several times an hour. His bones hurt and he howls all the time," Yvette explains. "We don't know what to do."

It was a mystery to you what nature was thinking when it decided that the transformation of werewolves already breaks out in children. The process is already nerve-racking and exhausting for an adult the first few times he is new to it. But for a young child who has no idea what's going on with their body, it can be downright traumatic. Unfortunately, all puppies have to go through this.

The pack is there to watch out. That's their advantage, they can work as a team and they have a lot of experience.

It mostly goes well and there are no further complications. Once the kids learn to control the process, they get comfortable with it. But every wolf child, in fact every child of a shapeshifter species, goes through a phase where they change shape almost uncontrollably. It's like teething. Unfortunately, quite painful.

"I can give you some of the elixir again, but I have to make it from scratch," you say.

"Please."

You motion her to sit at the table and she gratefully takes a seat. "Would you like some tea?" you ask her as you flick your fingers to get several items flying from the kitchen cabinets. "You look like you could use something for your nerves."

She merely nods, and so you put a kettle of water on the stove.

Then one by one you reach into several pots and grab the ingredients you need, tossing them into a stone bowl that follows you flying. Various herbs, mealworms, finely chopped roots. With a mortar you pound everything.

The kettle whistles and you take care of the tea, which you hand to Yvette. She accepts it gratefully and blows on the hot liquid.

You put a pot on the now free hotplate, into which you pour a greenish liquid from a jar with a screw cap. You then add in the ingredients from the stone bowl. The potion hisses and bubbles quietly.

"We'll have to wait a bit for it to boil down," you inform your guest, joining her at the table. "So, how are your brothers doing?"

The Bullions are a very old clan and it's probably a testament to their adaptability that their pack has survived this long.

The adults have their transformation well under control. They have to do it at least once a month, otherwise their bones start to hurt. If they suppress the urge too long, the body takes over and decides to do it itself. No matter where you are at the time.

The full moon thing is merely a myth, as false as the assumption that vampires don't like garlic. Maybe there was a time when wolves preferred to hunt on full moon nights. Maybe that way it was easier to keep track of this once every four weeks thing. But the werewolves you've had contact with so far in your life don't have a preferred hunting night.

What is true is the fact that a werewolf should not stay in their wolf form for too long. It is an archaic state and should he spend more than a few weeks at a time in it without changing back, eventually his rational mind will shut down. It wouldn't even be a problem if hunger didn't usually take over at the same time. Because of their nature, they constantly have an incredibly large appetite, almost as if they were eating for two. And a beast without a mind of that size with above average strength and senses, eventually doesn't care what it eats. Or who.

You chat with Yvette for just about an hour before glancing into the pot and skimming some of the now yellowish liquid into a vial. You hand it to the woman.

"Mix ten drops of this into his water. And after a few hours, again. No more, you hear?" you instruct her. "That will calm him down and make him keep one of his forms. If his symptoms come back within a week, call me."

You always make sure to give your clients precise instructions. A perfectly good potion can have devastating consequences if used incorrectly. It's not to be trifled with.

Yvette nods and pockets the vial, placing a nice amount of bills on your table. "Thank you."

"No problem, really. Give my regards to the family."

She nods and says goodbye, French-style, with kisses left and right.

As you close the door behind her, you glance at the clock and curse. Her visit has made you lose track of time and you're now way too late for your meeting with Loki.

Oh shit!

Without further ado, you just leave everything as it is, grabbing your bag and rushing to your door, which takes you to the other side of the ocean. As you step through, you also change your clothes, because you don't want to show up with a dress that still has lots of traces and stains of your work on it. Instead, you make do with a narrow skirt, a blouse and a blazer.

With quick steps you hurry down the hall to the elevator. You pull your work badge out of your bag and hang it around your neck, only to hold it up in front of the SHIELD agents a minute later. Fortunately, by now you have a good routine at the check up and you are not held up for long. Then you enter the suite. Loki is already sitting on the couch, legs crossed, reading a book. He doesn't look up as you enter.

"I'm sorry I'm late," you apologize, "There was an emergency and I wasn't paying attention to the time."

You sit down and turn to the Asgardian. But he remains focused on his reading and turns a page. You raise your brows and wait a moment to see if he acknowledges your arrival.

When he doesn't, you lean forward a bit and glance at the cover. "'To the lighthouse’,” you note. "A classic."

Loki puts a finger to his lips as a sign for you to be quiet. "If you don't mind. I'm reading." He doesn't even look at you.

Okay, if that's how he wants to play. You don't mind a little peace. On the contrary, it would be a welcome change for once. Something different than the word duels of the last days.

Since no further response comes from him, you reach into your bag and use some simple magic to pull out a copy of Loki's book. You open it and start reading as well.

After an hour, you say goodbye and leave.

Apparently Loki has decided not to talk to you anymore, because the next day - today you are on time again - goes exactly the same way.

You don't know if he expects an extended apology from you for being late - it seems a bit exaggerated to you - or if this is just a new game of his. You don't mind. You’ve got time and as you told Tony: it's easy money earned when you don't have to do anything but sit there.

Still, each time you start an attempt at a conversation, ask him something or comment on his ever-changing reading.

And every time you get the same answer:

"Sshhh."

Amused, you wonder whether you're dealing with a snake, because it sounds a bit like the hissing of a reptile.

This continues for a whole two weeks until he finally speaks up real words. There's still about ten minutes left of your usual hour you spend here every day.

"Why are you wasting both of our time?"

It comes as such a surprise, admittedly, since you've already gotten used to the silence, that you just look at him uncomprehendingly at first.

"What do you mean?"

Loki rolls his eyes and now speaks very slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "You're just sitting here reading. Why are you wasting both of our time with this?"

"It's not a waste of time for me. I get paid for this," you shrug. "If you decide that's how we're going to spend our time together, then so be it."

"And if I decide that we spend it differently?" asks Loki now, and you hear the suggestive undertone as his lips curl into an amused smile. It's clear what he's implying.

"Our relationship is purely professional."

"Then I have no use for you. You're fired."

"You can't fire me. I work for Tony," you reply, turning back to your book.

Quietly, Loki snorts. "So are those mindless puppets standing guard outside the door," he spits out and you hear the spite from his voice.

"They are SHIELD agents."

This clarification seems to make little impression on him. "What’s the difference?" he grumbles. "It's downright insulting to position them there. They couldn’t stop me if I wanted to leave."

He’s not wrong about that, you realize. You don’t respond but think about his words. The short conversation dies down as Loki crosses his arms.

You look at your watch and get up. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"You know, you could wear something nice for once," Loki says and your clothes suddenly light up briefly as they change from the usual pants and blouse to a summery dress with a plunging neckline. "Who would have thought? My colors actually look good on you, pet."

You don't even roll your eyes at that. "Bye, Loki."

As soon as you're out the door, you change your clothes back. Luckily, SHIELD agents are trained not to make unnecessary comments. You don't even want to know how this looks from their point of view.

As you enter the elevator, you give them a shrug before the doors close.

In fact, you don't really care what the agents think of you. You have nothing to do with them except for the two brief meetings when you arrive and leave the suite. You haven't exchanged more than a few greetings with them.

But you did meet the other members of the Avengers in the past two weeks. Most of them were curious to see who would last so long with Loki. Apparently you're just about to break some record.

They're nice, even if it was a strange feeling at first to meet in person these people you usually only know from the news. You have come to realize that they are just normal humans. Well, some of them are humans. And actually, none of them are normal.

As usual, you send a report to Tony and also ask him to schedule a meeting in person.

It probably testifies to the importance of the matter that you sit with him that very same afternoon in some kind of workshop, where he works on one of his Iron Man suits.

"How's it going, Sabrina?" he asks you as you conjure up a stool at the table where he's working on a robotic arm. An outer panel from the device is open and the contents seem to be scattered all over the counter top. You spot circuit boards, wires, pliers, a soldering iron and lots of other things you're not familiar with.

"Great, I've had time to finish 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.'"

It had been the last book Loki had chosen as his daily reading. You didn't quite finish it, but you would read the last chapter at home later.

"Glad you're having so much fun in the company of a bipolar criminal with a god complex. Can you pass me the tin snips? No, the one that's funny shaped. Yep, that one, thanks."

"I thought Strange was the one doing the diagnoses around here," you reply, amused, looking at the various tools. The place looks just as chaotic as your kitchen at home when you're working.

"You pick up a lot of things when you're dealing with our kind of people." Tony winks at you and you chuckle. He's probably right about that.

There's a brief pause before you address the reason why you came to him. "What are the agents supposed to do in front of the princes‘ suite, anyway?" you ask innocuously, testing what he has to say about it first.

"Protecting, controlling, displaying authority," he enumerates as he reaches for a smaller screwdriver. His eyes dart to you. "Why? Did Loki say that?"

He did, but you don't want to admit that to Tony.

"This is your tower, isn't it?" you ask instead. "I'm sure nothing happens in this building without you getting notified. I heard something about an A.I."

Tony doesn't interrupt his work, but you can tell by his posture that he's now paying close attention to you. He's not stupid. Still, his voice remains calm. "Jarvis. Yes, he's connected to all floors and has his eyes everywhere. Except for the bathrooms, of course. I'm not a pervert."

"I think we should withdraw the agents," you say.

"I think that's a stupid idea," Tony retorts.

Of course he does. You were expecting that.

"If he really wanted to leave, they couldn’t stop him," you repeat the words Loki used earlier. He's right about that point.

"We need a backup plan, though," Tony interjects.

You sigh silently. You can understand him. You really do. But things need to change for improvement. You won’t get anywhere with how things are currently.

"I thought the point was to make him socially acceptable. It takes trust on both sides," you argue. "I'm not saying we should unleash him on the city right away. But tell me: has there even been one incident between Loki and the agents?" Tony opens his mouth, but you don't let him get a word out. "Aside from the shenanigans he pulls on everyone. I mean an actual incident where someone got hurt."

Tony closes his mouth again and seems to be thinking. He has his elbow propped on the armrest of his chair and his head in his hand. "Ultimately, it's not up to me to decide," he admits. "But I'll talk to Fury."

Satisfied, you nod. That's something, for a start.

"But," Tony adds, "someone has to keep an eye on him. And by someone, I mean you, Sabrina. That means that you actually have to live in the tower. Don't look at me like that. I know you keep disappearing into your witch cave or wherever as soon as you enter your rooms." His tone isn’t accusatory. Still, there's something about the way he says it that you don't like.

"I have another job." You're not quite sure if being a witch is a proper job description, but you have obligations you have to meet.

"Well, put it in the back. Otherwise, I'm afraid we'll have to find someone else for this. And I'd really like to avoid that. You've done pretty well so far."

"Fine, I'll spend more time here. But then don't complain when the kitchen smells like sulfur and chicken legs."

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

Tag List: @lokisgoodgirl @lokixryss @itsybitchylittlewitchy @yokshi-unbeliebubble @fictional-hooman @elennair @all-envy-suyu @purplekitten30 @elisadmaggiore @nothing2113 @baebeepeach @ceo-of-stfu

[burningablaze]

Mirio x Reader - It Helps to Let it Out

A/N: I had to post this fic again because at one point, I changed my name and posted it so when changed my name back, I wouldn’t be able to click on the link in my masterlist because it was under a different name

Summary: When something was wrong with Mirio, your always there to determine what happened and comfort him for as long as he needs it

Warnings: Mentions of death and heavy crying

Lee: Mirio

Ler: Reader

Words: 2,380

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Has anyone seen Togata?" You asked, looking around the living room only to see Kaminari playing a video game, Midoriya writing in his notes, and Todoroki next to Midoriya reading a manga series.

"Nah, we haven't seen him in ages,”" Kaminari said as he button-mashed his controller. Midoriya looked over the couch to make eye contact with you. "I know! It would help if you talked to Hado and Amajiki." You nodded. "Right, thanks."

You checked your phone to see if Mirio had gotten your text, but you frowned when you saw he didn't read your text. You kept wondering why Mirio didn't answer yet, but you hoped it wasn't too serious.

You went outside and walked around the school campus, hoping you would run into the rest of the Big Three. It was very convenient to see Nejire and Tamaki sitting together under a tree's shade, playing war.

"Hey, guys." You said, making yourself known as you got closer. Nejire was the first to look up, and her eyes widened with excitement. "Hey, Y/N!" She said and waved her arm. Amajiki shyly looked up as well. "Oh, hi, Y/N."

"I wanted to ask if either of you has seen Mirio. I texted him earlier, but he didn't answer me, and I'm a little worried, is all." You confessed. Nejire pointed her finger to her chin. "Well, I haven't seen him all day either," She turned to her shy friend. "Have you seen Togata at all, Amajiki?" She asked. "Nothing really," Amajiki answered softly.

"Maybe you should check his room? He should be there. That's where I saw him last time, and I'm sure it's nothing! He's probably working on something and doesn't want to be disturbed, so he'll turn his phone off." Nejire said. "But he would've said something before." You left them to let them continue their game. "Thanks anyway."

"Happy to help! Hey, don't look at my cards!"

You remembered where Mirio's dorm was since it was a while ago the first time you met up with him. You took in a soft breath and knocked on his door. "Mirio? It's me, Y/N. I just want to know if you're okay. Is the door locked? Can I come in?" You knocked again, but this time the door slowly moved.

"Mirio?" You pushed the door more and saw nothing but complete darkness. "Why is it so dark in here?" You asked in a whisper. You took out my phone and turned on the flash. "Mirio? Are you in here?" You called out.

"Hmm, oh, hey, Y/N! I didn't hear you come in!" You heard Mirio's voice, but you didn't know where it was coming from. "Why is your room so dark?" You asked.

You seemed surprised to find Mirio's room so dark. Usually, he lets natural light shine in his room unless he is taking a nap, but he never allows his room to be completely opaque.

"Oh, right. Here, let me just-" Slowly, the sunlight peeked through the curtains until Mirio pulled the curtains all the way. You turned off the flash on your phone. "What were you doing?" You asked.

Mirio rubbed the back of his neck nervously. What does he have to be nervous about? "Oh, uh, I was, uh, just thinking. It helps me think about stuff."

You couldn't help but feel something was wrong with him, and you were right about the first thing you saw. "What, why are your eyes red?" You asked and leaned forward to get a closer look at his face. His eyes and nose were red, and his skin was pale. You also saw faint tear stains on his cheeks.

"Oh no! I was just having, uh, allergies!" He forced a smile, thinking you would buy his lie. "You never told me you had allergies." You said. "I didn't?" Mirio said.

"You've been crying, haven't you?" You asked. Mirio went quiet for a short moment before nodding softly. "Yeah,"

"Why did you lie?" You asked. Mirio ran his fingers through his hair to sweep it back with a frustrated but soft sigh. "I don't know. I'm just... upset, is all." He sat on his bed with his head down low a little. "You didn't need to lie to me, Mirio."

You sat down next to him. "I know, and I'm sorry." "Do you want to talk about it?" You asked gently. "I guess so," Mirio muttered sadly, but you heard him perfectly.

"What's going on, Mirio? You know I'm here if you want to talk about anything." Mirio gave you a gentle warm smile. "I know, and I appreciate it, but I thought I would handle this on my own."

You rested your hand on his back and comfortably ran up and down his spine. "Sometimes, it's not always good to handle stuff like this by yourself. It's just not healthy. It can make you feel overwhelmed sometimes, and it can feel like the world is crashing on you. I get you want to be brave and try to fight through this, but it'll be those times that it's too much to handle. Those kinds of feelings can come out of nowhere and bring you down. I would be more than happy to help you when you need it."

Mirio snorted softly. "Wow. Your starting to sound like me." You smiled. "I learned from the best." You nudged his arm gently. "Heh, thanks. The thing is... I don't usually let things get to me, but something like this really scared me." Mirio frowned. "Was it bad?" You asked.

"Worse than that. Earlier today, I felt a little tired, so I took a nap. All of a sudden, I had this horrible dream. It felt so much worse than a nightmare. I was watching Midoriya and... Sir Nighteye was fighting Overhaul, and Eri was behind me, but I couldn't move."

Mirio gulped when he had to mention his recent mentor, Nighteye. Losing Nighteye was the worst thing that ever happened to him, but he wanted to keep a happy face. He wanted to let everyone know that he was alright, even if he had to lie.

"I was so helpless, and that's... when it happened. Sir got severely injured, and it was like on a loop. It was replaying Sir getting hurt over and over again! All I could do was scream, but it was silent! Nothing but silence! I couldn't do anything!"

Mirio forced himself not to get ahead of himself as he hid his face behind his hands. You continued to rub his back, then pulled him slowly towards you, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you tightly.

"Oh no, honey. It's alright. Try to relax, okay?" You said, trying to comfort him in any way you thought of. He buried his face in your shirt, getting your shoulder wet with his tears, but you didn't care.

Mirio sniffled in your shirt. "Oh god. I just miss him so much." He whimpered and squeezed you a little tighter. "I know, sweetheart, I know." You said, rubbing his back more.

"I wish he was here right now. If only I could've done something, he would still be here."

"Mirio," You pushed Mirio away to cup his cheeks in your hands. His blue eyes shined from his tears. The redness around his eyes grew worse. "You have to understand that his death wasn't your fault. It suddenly happened, and we couldn't predict it."

Mirio moved his face away from you and mumbled, “But I was-" "No, none of that,” You brought his face towards you. "You couldn't have known about that, and he will always be with you, but not all the time cause he'll make be like a creeper." You joked.

As you expected, Mirio chuckled softly. You were glad that you got Mirio to laugh. "See?" You wiped the rest of his tears away. "And he wants you to smile. Just like how you want to make Eri smile; otherwise, he'll put you in that tickle machine."

Mirio snickered. "Oh yeah. That was the worst." He said, rubbing his neck.

After a moment of settling down, you and Mirio had been quiet. You hadn't left his side ever since; you wanted to be sure he was okay. "Feeling any better?" You asked.

"I guess a little. Thank you. I think I needed something like that." "I'm glad I got to help. The next this happens, I'm always a phone call away, and I'll come running to your door with a bunch of snacks!"

Mirio snorted. "I'll remember that." "Do you want to do anything?"

Mirio hummed and quickly looked at you with a slight smile. "A movie would be good right now."

"That sounds good, but I'm picking." "Fine by me." You didn't expect Mirio to give this sort of answer. You thought he was going to talk back.

"I was only joking." "I'm serious. It's a little something to return the favor after you helped me." Mirio smiled widely. "Alright, if you say so."

So you decided to watch The Jungle Book on Mirio's laptop. Mirio nestled himself comfortably between your legs and used your stomach as a pillow. You twirled his soft blonde locks around your fingers. You smiled as you thought to yourself that moment would never last.

"I thought you were talking about the new one," Mirio said, glancing up at you. "No, I meant the original." You said. Mirio shrugged his shoulders.

A little later, you smirked at a familiar scene and looked down at Mirio; thankfully, he hadn't noticed yet.

The scene Mowgli was tickling Baloo gave you an idea. You slowly snaked your arm down towards Mirio's side, very carefully lifting his shirt a bit, and used your nail to scrap lightly on his soft skin. You felt his body twitched away from your finger, and you decided to keep going.

"Hehehehehey, what're you dohohohoing?" Mirio giggled and pushed your hand away, but your other hand went around and squeezed his other side. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me what I'm doing, huh?" You teased.

“Ehehehehehehehe!" Mirio squirmed side to side and tried to block your tickle attack.

"Hey, Mirio, can you keep your voice down? I can't hear the movie."

"Buhuhuhuhut your tihihickling mehehehehe!"

"Oh, is that what I'm doing? Then I guess I'm doing it wrong because THIS would be tickling you!" You dove your hands and wiggled your fingers straight into Mirio's belly, which happens to be one of his biggest tickle spots.

"NOHOHOHOHOHO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Mirio brought his knees to his chest and kicked his feet. You giggled at Mirio for how much he was making an adorable scene.

"Mirio, if you keep laughing, I'll miss the entire movie." You said and kept tickling his belly. "BUT YOHOHOHOHOHOU'VE SEHEHEHEHEN IT BEFORE!" "But I love that movie! And you know I don't miss any part!"

Mirio continued to wiggle around and push your hands away or pin them to his sides with his arms. "STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT TIHIHIHIHICKLES!"

"Pfft, please, you know that I know that you love being tickled. I mean, how can you not? Your so ticklish!" You stated, making his face turn redder.

You hummed as you thought up an idea. "Let's get these arms out of the way." You said and used all your strength to get his arms above his head and sat on top of them.

"Wait, wait, what're you doing?!" "Trying something new, duh!"

Starting from his elbows, you very lightly wiggled your fingertips down his biceps, getting close to his partly exposed underarms. Mirio squirmed and twitched a lot more than he did before and shrieked.

"No, no nohohohoho! Ah, quihihit ihit! It's so much wohohorse!" He tried to move his arms away from your fingers, fighting off the itchy but very ticklish feeling from his arms.

Once you got very close to Mirio's underarms, you skittered your fingers back up to his elbows and left him laughing silly. "NO, NO, PLEHEHEASE! Please, not my armpits! It's so bahahahad!" "You mean when I do this?" You did the same thing again, slowly spidering your fingers closer to his underarms and then pulling away.

"Yes, thahahahahat! Dohohohohon't!" "Do it?" "NOHOHO!" "No?" "NOHOHOHO!" "Then yes?" "NO!" "You are very confusing. Which one is it, yes or no?" "NOHOHOHO! STOP DOHOHOHOING THAHAT!" "Yes, do it? Okay!"

That kind of teasing you pulled made Mirio's squirming a lot worse, and his laughter erupted more. You tickled his soft biceps a little faster but still slowly going down. "Oh, Mirio, I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha! I'm gonna tickle tickle tickle you!"

Mirio arched his back and moved himself down, hoping it would set him free. up "Nohohohohoho! Dohohohon't!" He twisted to the side, so he was partially lying on his stomach. "You can't escape the tickles, Mirio!"

You suddenly went for his underarms and dug your fingers into the hollows. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! GET AWAHAHAHAHAHAHAYEHEHEHEHEHE!"

Mirio turned back onto lying on his back and squirmed like crazy. You scratched, poked, and wiggled into his underarms in any way.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP PLEHEHEHEHEASE! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Finally, it was time to let him go. You got off his arms, and he immediately cradled himself in a ball, breathing heavily and snickered. "Jeez, you don't hold back, do you?” Mirio asked, with tears in his eyes. You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You think that wasn't holding back?"

Mirio widened his eyes and gulped. "In that case, allow me to not hold back and tickle you for real this time." You turned your hand into a claw and wiggled menacingly, making Mirio giggle and push your hand back. "Dohohohon't! I've had enough tickles for one day!" "Alright, alright."

You pulled your hand back and held Mirio's head in your lap. "Thank you, Y/N. I wouldn't know how to feel better after that mess." "I promise to be with you when everything falls apart around you." Both of you smiled, and you looked at Mirio's laptop. After all that tickling, the movie was really far.

"Great, now I have to go to where we were!" Mirio laughed, but not for long. "If I remember correctly, we were at that tickle scene. Right, Mirio?" You said and scribbled Mirio's neck. "Hehehehey!"

[kanamori-kamper-moved]

❤️‍🩹 for aztecshipping?

aaaa I love this!! Don’t have any ideas for them in terms of regular Yuma and trey but I have been having more knight trey and prince yuma ideas :333 As always, transfem Trey so she uses the feminine pronoun

enjoy!! (Also there are a few font changes in this so do tell if you need me to reformat anything)

ask game

-

Yuma sighs longingly. He’s read her letters far too many times. They are always written in flowery, soft cursive and laden with beautifully chosen words straight out of a poem.

When was the last time he saw her? He didn't know. Yuma has forgotten now, but all he knows is that even throughout his business, he deeply misses Trey. He's been swamped in work, far too tired to even write back to her. He felt guilty, eyes moving back-and-forth slowly through the words on the paper.

"I know you've been busy. Just know that if even if you come to be away from me, I'll always be there to protect you, even if in spirit. I long to see you, and to spend time with you. I know you're busy, but I miss when you'd write back to me. But even so, I hope this letter finds you well -Trey, your knight."

Yuma feels guilty, he can't keep ignoring these. He wants to write back, but he's labored, ever so labored.

The piles upon piles of her letters sitting in the corner of his room makes him dizzy. Suddenly, out came a noise; a sigh so soft, suffused with ache.

"Today's sunset was beautiful. It reminds me of you, almost. Even when it came to be nighttime, I did not want to close my curtains just yet. I open the window, and the warm spring air floats in. The pie I left to cool on the downstairs windowsill isn't hot anymore. I hoped you'd come, rushing downstairs to see if you'd taken a piece for yourself, but you hadn't. But it is okay. I wrapped it in parchment, hopefully you'll come over soon, so we can share it before it spoils. I have never more wanted to see you than I do now; just to sit and look at you, at least. But, my eldest brother always taught me that It is shameful to beg. I hope this letter finds you well. -Trey, your knight."

Her words make Yuma's heart skip a beat, he still remembers when they first met. Yuma snuck out of the castle again, opening up his window and running past the guards before they could catch up with him.

He wanted to get dirty, have fun, to run away from all of his responsibilities. Even if he was seen as a disgrace, and exiled without a word, it still would have been worth it. But, there he was, in the middle of a field of berries that he'd become lost in.

It was like Déjà vu. When he was just about 8, he'd gotten lost picking berries with Tori, the girl he'd known since he was in diapers. It was just like this all over again, he didn't know how to navigate himself, and could only pass the time by eating the ripe bushels of blackberries. But, this time, it was like nobody was coming to find him. His dad always told him about the creatures he'd saw during his travels, but Yuma never thought he'd see one himself.

Its claws were digging into his arms, pinning him down as he thrashed and screamed. He thought he was going to die, only to be left as a stray pile of blood and clothes. But the wretched creature screeched, Yuma peering his head over to see a sword stuck in its back.

It's Trey. She's beautiful. Her hair is so short he was sure she at first a man, but he doesn't have time to think about it.

When she's done slaying the beast, she kisses his hand, "Are you alright?", concern fills her pretty, androgynous voice.

No one's done this before, Yuma's blushing and can't even form a coherent sentence. But, he doesn't need to, because Trey puts him back on his feet and escorts him back to the kingdom after treating his wounds.

"I'm fine, I swear!"

"No you're not, just look at how you're bleeding! I'm only doing this in your best interest, your highness."

She's persistent. Trey refuses to leave him alone, insisting a good knight wouldn't leave until they're sure that everything is fine. Yuma can't even sleep that night, he wants to see her again.

There's so much burning in his chest, he rifles through his desk to find a piece of paper to finally write back to her. Sure, he doesn't write in any of those pretty fonts or as flowery, or poetically as her, but he needs too, he HAS TOO.

He has to be honest with her.

"I'm sorry for not getting back to you sooner, it's been a lot lately. But I need to tell you something. It's hard to find the words, I thought of saying that I fell in love with you, but no. Falling is an accident. No, I ran aggressively towards my love for you, and I cannot keep ignoring it. There are so many things I could tell you, but they all just dissolve in my throat. It's dark now, and I'm very tired. I'll love you forever, always. Time is nothing when I'm with you.

-Yuma, your prince."

Yuma gives it to his courier and falls into his bed, he should have done this so log ago, but now it's done.

-

In the morning, he's given a letter. It's from Trey. Did she manage to respond that quickly? She's always been amazing, Yuma shouldn't be surprised.

"I'm glad you told me, and don't be sorry, your personal affairs come before our letters. But, I need to tell you as well, I feel just the same. I cannot continue to water myself down so you don't catch on. You utterly pierce my soul, there's no other way to describe it. No matter what kind of future it will be, I’ll always find you. Come to the cottage, my brothers won't be there. I'll be waiting for you. -Trey, your knight."

And so Yuma does, opening up the window and sneaking out once more. Trey is waiting for him inside, and he runs in her arms. There are no words, the both of them know what they want. He kisses her softly, Treys lips are ever so soft.

"I have some new recipes I'd like to bake with you."

"That would be lovely."