#but i just had to get this out of my system

[ms-demeanor]

On insurance: I still live with my parents and don't know a lot yet about the sorts of things adults usually have to spend money on. I've always been skeptical of things like insurance and credit cards because it seems to me they wouldn't be selling that if they didn't expect to make money from it. I talked to my cousin a while ago about credit cards and basically came to the conclusion that they do that because they're betting on the customer getting sloppy and letting their debts stack up, and the way you beat that and get money from credit card companies is just by being careful.

I'm a little more confused about insurance though because it seems much more straightforwardly like a gamble they will simply not take if it won't pay off for them. Like, you don't go to a casino because every game they play at a casino is one they've done the math on and have determined that statistically most people will lose money on most of the time. Is insurance not kinda the same? Where they estimate the risk and then charge you an amount calculated to make sure it probably won't be worth it for you?

I know if you have a car you legally need car insurance so everyone knows you can pay for another car if you crash into someone, and I gather that here in the US at least health insurance companies have some kinda deal with hospitals so that the prices go down or something, and there's a reason I don't fully understand why not having health insurance is Really Bad. But we get to pet insurance, or like when I buy a concert ticket and it offers ticket insurance in case I can't make it to the show, and surely if they thought they were gonna lose money on that they just wouldn't sell it, right? Or they'd raise the price of it until it became worth the risk that something bad actually will happen? Wouldn't it only be worth it to buy insurance if you know something the insurance company doesn't?

So the deal is that most people don't use their insurance much, and often insurance companies will incentivize doing things that will make you use your insurance less.

So, for example, you can get a discount on car insurance if you have multiple cars because people who insure multiple cars are more likely to be responsible drivers (the ability to pay for multiple cars stands in as a representation of responsibility here). The longer you go without an accident, the lower your premiums get because that means that you are not costing your insurance company anything but you are paying into the system. The car insurance company's goal is to have the most responsible, safest drivers who never get into car accidents because they can predict (roughly) how much they're going to have to pay out to their customers and they want the number they pay out to be lower than what's paid in. So they try to discourage irresponsible drivers by raising their rates and encourage responsible drivers by giving them discounts.

Health insurance companies often do the same thing: I recently got a gift card from my health insurance company because I had a visit from a nurse who interviewed me about my overall health and made sure I had stable blood pressure and access to medications. It is literally cheaper for my insurance company to give me a $100 giftcard and hire a nurse to visit me than it is for me to go to my doctor's office a couple of times, so they try to make sure that their customers are getting preventative care and are seeing inexpensive medical professionals regularly so that they don't have to suddenly see very expensive professionals after a long time without care.

Insurance in the US has many, many, many problems and should be replaced with socialized healthcare for a huge number of reasons but right now, because it is an insurance-based system, you need to have insurance.

We're going to use Large Bastard as an example.

Large Bastard had insurance when he had his heart attack and when he needed multiple organs transplanted. He didn't *want* to be paying for insurance, because he thought he was healthy enough to get by, but I insisted. His premium is four hundred dollars a month, and his out of pocket maximum is eight thousand dollars a year. That means that every year, he pays about $5000 whether he uses his insurance or not, and if he DOES need to use the insurance, he pays the first $8k worth of care, so every year his insurance has the possibility of costing him thirteen thousand dollars.

The bill for his bypass surgery was a quarter million dollars.

The bill for his transplant was over one and a half million dollars.

His medication each month is around six hundred dollars. He needs to have multiple biopsies - which are surgeries - each year, and each one costs about twenty thousand dollars.

Without health insurance, he would very likely be dead, or we would be *even more* incapable of paying for his healthcare than we are right now. He almost ditched his insurance because he was a healthy-seeming 40-year-old and he didn't think he'd get sick. And then he proceeded to be the sickest human being I've ever known personally who did not actually die.

Health insurance costs a lot of money. It costs less money for people who are young and who are expected to be healthy. But the thing is, everybody pays into health insurance, and very, very few people end up using as much money for their medical expenses as Large Bastard did. There are a few thousand transplants in the US ever year, but there are hundreds of millions of people paying for insurance.

This ends up balancing out (sort of) so that people who pay for insurance get a much lower cost on care if they need it, hospitals get paid for the care they provide, and the insurance company makes enough money to continue to exist. Part of the reason that people don't like this scheme is because "insurance company" could feasibly be replaced by "government" and it would cost less and provide a better standard of care, but again, with things as they are now, you need to have insurance. Insurance companies are large entities that are able to negotiate down costs with the providers they work with, you are not. If you get hit by a car you may be able to get your medical bills significantly reduced through a number of means, but you're very unlikely to get your bills lower than the cost of insurance and a copay.

Because of the Affordable Care Act, which is flawed but which did a LOT of good, medical insurance companies cannot refuse to treat you because of preexisting conditions and also cannot jack up your premiums to intolerable rates - since Large Bastard got sick, he has had the standard price increases you'd expect from aging, but nothing like the gouging you might expect from an insurance company deciding you're not worth it.

Pet insurance works on the same model. Millions of people pay for the insurance, thousands of people end up needing it, a few hundred end up needing a LOT of it, and the insurance companies are able to make more money than they hand out, so they continue to exist. This is part of why it's less expensive to get pet insurance for younger animals - people who sign up puppies and kittens are likely to be paying for a very long time and are likely to provide a lot of preventative care for their animals, so they're a good bet for the insurer. Animals signed up when they are older are more likely to have health problems (and pet insurance CAN turn animals away for preexisting conditions) and are going to cost the insurance companies more, so they cost more to enroll (and animals over a certain age or with certain conditions may be denied entirely).

This weighing risk/reward is called actuarial science, and the insurance industry is built on it.

But yeah it's kind of betting. The insurance company says "I'll insure ten thousand dogs and I'm going to bet that only a hundred of them will need surgery at some point in the next year" and if they're correct, they make money and the dogs who need surgery get their surgery paid for out of the premiums from the nine thousand nine hundred dogs who didn't need surgery.

Your assessment of credit is correct: credit card companies expect that you will end up carrying a balance, and that balance will accrue interest, and the interest is how they make the money.

And it is EASY to fuck up financially as an adult. REALLY EASY. But you are still likely to need a good credit score so you will need a credit history. That means that the correct way to use a credit card is to have a card, but not carry a balance.

To do this, never buy anything on the card that you can't afford. In order to avoid needing the card for emergencies, start an emergency fund that is at least 3 months of your total pay *before* you get a credit card. That seems like a *lot* of savings to have, but from the perspective of someone who has had plenty of mess-ups, it's a lot easier to build up a $10k emergency fund than it is to pay off a $10k credit card debt.

If you don't understand how interest works on credit cards, or why a 10k savings is different than a 10k debt, here are some examples working with $10k of debt, 23% interest (an average-ish rate for people with average credit), and various payments.

With that debt and that interest, here's how much it costs and how long it would take to pay off with $200 as the monthly payment:

Fourteen years, and it would cost you about twenty four thousand dollars in interest, for a total amount paid of about thirty four thousand dollars.

To save $10k at $200 a month would take four years and two months.

Here's the same debt at $300 a month:

4.5 Years and it costs about six grand (again, just in interest - sixteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at three hundred dollars a month would take just under three years.

Here's the same debt at $400 a month:

3 years, about $4000 dollars (fourteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at $400 a month takes just over two years.

The thing is, with all of these models you're going to end up paying one way or another. Insurance vs out of pocket is you weighing the risk of losing a fair amount of money by signing up but not using the system, or potentially losing a catastrophic amount of money by not signing up.

For credit cards they really only work if you know you're never going to need them for an emergency, because an emergency is what you're not going to be able to pay off right away. I didn't have an emergency fund when Large Bastard had his heart attack and needed surgery, or when we moved between states suddenly, or when we moved between states suddenly AGAIN and needed to pay storage costs, or when Large Bastard needed a transplant, or when Tiny Bastard got in a fight with my MiL's dog, and the fact that I didn't have an emergency fund is still costing me a lot of money.

So, young folks out there: what's the takeaway?

Get insurance. Get the best deal possible, which usually ends up being the one you sign up for early. You may think you can let it ride without insurance, but man in the six months between when I graduate college (and lost my school insurance) and when care kicked in after 90 days at my job I got electrocuted and needed to go to the ER. If that hadn't been a worker's comp payout I would have had thousands of dollars in bills. Something could happen. You could break your leg, you could get hit by a car, you could suddenly find out that you actually have heart disease at twenty, you could develop cancer. Have insurance, you need insurance. You legally need car insurance in the US, and you financially need health insurance. If you have a pet, I think it's a good idea for them to have pet insurance.

Credit cards are not for emergencies, they are not for fun, they are not for buying things that are just ever so slightly out of your budget, they are for taking advantage of the credit card company and managing to get by in a system that demands you have a credit score. ONLY put purchases on your credit card that you already have cash for. Before you get a credit card, build up an emergency savings so that you aren't tempted to put emergency charges on your card.

If you DO end up with an interest-bearing debt, pay it off as fast as possible because letting it linger costs you a LOT of money in the long run.

Stay the fuck away from tobacco and nicotine products they are fucking terrible for you, they are fucking expensive, and they are not worth it put the vapes down put the zyns down put the cigarettes down I will begin manifesting in your house physically i swear to fuck. Knock that shit off and put the cash that you'd be spending on nicotine into a savings account.

Take care, sorry everything sucks, I promise that in some ways it actually sucks less than it did before and we're working on trying to make it suck even less but it's taking a while.

[tinystepsforward]

autocrattic (more matt shenanigans, not tumblr this time)

I am almost definitely not the right person for this writeup, but I'm closer than most people on here, so here goes! This is all open-source tech drama, and I take my time laying out the context, but the short version is: Matt tried to extort another company, who immediately posted receipts, and now he's refusing to log off again. The long version is... long.

If you don't need software context, scroll down/find the "ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening" heading, or just go read the pink sections. Or look at this PDF.

the background

So. Matt's original Good Idea was starting WordPress with fellow developer Mike Little in 2003, which is free and open-source software (FOSS) that was originally just for blogging, but now powers lots of websites that do other things. In particular, Automattic acquired WooCommerce a long time ago, which is free online store software you can run on WordPress.

FOSS is... interesting. It's a world that ultimately is powered by people who believe deeply that information and resources should be free, but often have massive blind spots (for example, Wikipedia's consistently had issues with bias, since no amount of "anyone can edit" will overcome systemic bias in terms of who has time to edit or is not going to be driven away by the existing contributor culture). As with anything else that people spend thousands of hours doing online, there's drama. As with anything else that's technically free but can be monetized, there are:

Heaps of companies and solo developers who profit off WordPress themes, plugins, hosting, and other services;

Conflicts between volunteer contributors and for-profit contributors;

Annoying founders who get way too much credit for everything the project has become.

the WordPress ecosystem

A project as heavily used as WordPress (some double-digit percentage of the Internet uses WP. I refuse to believe it's the 43% that Matt claims it is, but it's a pretty large chunk) can't survive just on the spare hours of volunteers, especially in an increasingly monetised world where its users demand functional software, are less and less tech or FOSS literate, and its contributors have no fucking time to build things for that userbase.

Matt runs Automattic, which is a privately-traded, for-profit company. The free software is run by the WordPress Foundation, which is technically completely separate (wordpress.org). The main products Automattic offers are WordPress-related: WordPress.com, a host which was designed to be beginner-friendly; Jetpack, a suite of plugins which extend WordPress in a whole bunch of ways that may or may not make sense as one big product; WooCommerce, which I've already mentioned. There's also WordPress VIP, which is the fancy bespoke five-digit-plus option for enterprise customers. And there's Tumblr, if Matt ever succeeds in putting it on WordPress. (Every Tumblr or WordPress dev I know thinks that's fucking ridiculous and impossible. Automattic's hiring for it anyway.)

Automattic devotes a chunk of its employees toward developing Core, which is what people in the WordPress space call WordPress.org, the free software. This is part of an initiative called Five for the Future — 5% of your company's profits off WordPress should go back into making the project better. Many other companies don't do this.

There are lots of other companies in the space. GoDaddy, for example, barely gives back in any way (and also sucks). WP Engine is the company this drama is about. They don't really contribute to Core. They offer relatively expensive WordPress hosting, as well as providing a series of other WordPress-related products like LocalWP (local site development software), Advanced Custom Fields (the easiest way to set up advanced taxonomies and other fields when making new types of posts. If you don't know what this means don't worry about it), etc.

Anyway. Lots of strong personalities. Lots of for-profit companies. Lots of them getting invested in, or bought by, private equity firms.

Matt being Matt, tech being tech

As was said repeatedly when Matt was flipping out about Tumblr, all of the stuff happening at Automattic is pretty normal tech company behaviour. Shit gets worse. People get less for their money. WordPress.com used to be a really good place for people starting out with a website who didn't need "real" WordPress — for $48 a year on the Personal plan, you had really limited features (no plugins or other customisable extensions), but you had a simple website with good SEO that was pretty secure, relatively easy to use, and 24-hour access to Happiness Engineers (HEs for short. Bad job title. This was my job) who could walk you through everything no matter how bad at tech you were. Then Personal plan users got moved from chat to emails only. Emails started being responded to by contractors who didn't know as much as HEs did and certainly didn't get paid half as well. Then came AI, and the mandate for HEs to try to upsell everyone things they didn't necessarily need. (This is the point at which I quit.)

But as was said then as well, most tech CEOs don't publicly get into this kind of shitfight with their users. They're horrid tyrants, but they don't do it this publicly.

ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening

WordCamp US, one of the biggest WordPress industry events of the year, is the backdrop for all this. It just finished.

There are.... a lot of posts by Matt across multiple platforms because, as always, he can't log off. But here's the broad strokes.

Sep 17

Matt publishes a wanky blog post about companies that profit off open source without giving back. It targets a specific company, WP Engine.

Compare the Five For the Future pages from Automattic and WP Engine, two companies that are roughly the same size with revenue in the ballpark of half a billion. These pledges are just a proxy and aren’t perfectly accurate, but as I write this, Automattic has 3,786 hours per week (not even counting me!), and WP Engine has 47 hours. WP Engine has good people, some of whom are listed on that page, but the company is controlled by Silver Lake, a private equity firm with $102 billion in assets under management. Silver Lake doesn’t give a dang about your Open Source ideals. It just wants a return on capital. So it’s at this point that I ask everyone in the WordPress community to vote with your wallet. Who are you giving your money to? Someone who’s going to nourish the ecosystem, or someone who’s going to frack every bit of value out of it until it withers?

(It's worth noting here that Automattic is funded in part by BlackRock, who Wikipedia calls "the world's largest asset manager".)

Sep 20 (WCUS final day)

WP Engine puts out a blog post detailing their contributions to WordPress.

Matt devotes his keynote/closing speech to slamming WP Engine.

He also implies people inside WP Engine are sending him information.

For the people sending me stuff from inside companies, please do not do it on your work device. Use a personal phone, Signal with disappearing messages, etc. I have a bunch of journalists happy to connect you with as well. #wcus — Twitter I know private equity and investors can be brutal (read the book Barbarians at the Gate). Please let me know if any employee faces firing or retaliation for speaking up about their company's participation (or lack thereof) in WordPress. We'll make sure it's a big public deal and that you get support. — Tumblr

Matt also puts out an offer live at WordCamp US:

“If anyone of you gets in trouble for speaking up in favor of WordPress and/or open source, reach out to me. I’ll do my best to help you find a new job.” — source tweet, RTed by Matt

He also puts up a poll asking the community if WP Engine should be allowed back at WordCamps.

Sep 21

Matt writes a blog post on the WordPress.org blog (the official project blog!): WP Engine is not WordPress.

He opens this blog post by claiming his mom was confused and thought WP Engine was official.

The blog post goes on about how WP Engine disabled post revisions (which is a pretty normal thing to do when you need to free up some resources), therefore being not "real" WordPress. (As I said earlier, WordPress.com disables most features for Personal and Premium plans. Or whatever those plans are called, they've been renamed like 12 times in the last few years. But that's a different complaint.)

Sep 22: More bullshit on Twitter. Matt makes a Reddit post on r/Wordpress about WP Engine that promptly gets deleted. Writeups start to come out:

Search Engine Journal: WordPress Co-Founder Mullenweg Sparks Backlash

TechCrunch: Matt Mullenweg calls WP Engine a ‘cancer to WordPress’ and urges community to switch providers

Sep 23 onward

Okay, time zones mean I can't effectively sequence the rest of this.

Matt defends himself on Reddit, casually mentioning that WP Engine is now suing him.

Also here's a decent writeup from someone involved with the community that may be of interest.

WP Engine drops the full PDF of their cease and desist, which includes screenshots of Matt apparently threatening them via text.

Twitter link | Direct PDF link

This PDF includes some truly fucked texts where Matt appears to be trying to get WP Engine to pay him money unless they want him to tell his audience at WCUS that they're evil.

Matt, after saying he's been sued and can't talk about it, hosts a Twitter Space and talks about it for a couple hours.

He also continues to post on Reddit, Twitter, and on the Core contributor Slack.

Here's a comment where he says WP Engine could have avoided this by paying Automattic 8% of their revenue.

Another, 20 hours ago, where he says he's being downvoted by "trolls, probably WPE employees"

At some point, Matt updates the WordPress Foundation trademark policy. I am 90% sure this was him — it's not legalese and makes no fucking sense to single out WP Engine.

Old text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks and you are free to use it in any way you see fit. New text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks, but please don’t use it in a way that confuses people. For example, many people think WP Engine is “WordPress Engine” and officially associated with WordPress, which it’s not. They have never once even donated to the WordPress Foundation, despite making billions of revenue on top of WordPress.

Sep 25: Automattic puts up their own legal response.

anyway this fucking sucks

This is bigger than anything Matt's done before. I'm so worried about my friends who're still there. The internal ramifications have... been not great so far, including that Matt's naturally being extra gung-ho about "you're either for me or against me and if you're against me then don't bother working your two weeks".

Despite everything, I like WordPress. (If you dig into this, you'll see plenty of people commenting about blocks or Gutenberg or React other things they hate. Unlike many of the old FOSSheads, I actually also think Gutenberg/the block editor was a good idea, even if it was poorly implemented.)

I think that the original mission — to make it so anyone can spin up a website that's easy enough to use and blog with — is a good thing. I think, despite all the ways being part of FOSS communities since my early teens has led to all kinds of racist, homophobic and sexual harm for me and for many other people, that free and open-source software is important.

So many people were already burning out of the project. Matt has been doing this for so long that those with long memories can recite all the ways he's wrecked shit back a decade or more. Most of us are exhausted and need to make money to live. The world is worse than it ever was.

Social media sucks worse and worse, and this was a world in which people missed old webrings, old blogs, RSS readers, the world where you curated your own whimsical, unpaid corner of the Internet. I started actually actively using my own WordPress blog this year, and I've really enjoyed it.

And people don't want to deal with any of this.

The thing is, Matt's right about one thing: capital is ruining free open-source software. What he's wrong about is everything else: the idea that WordPress.com isn't enshittifying (or confusing) at a much higher rate than WP Engine, the idea that WP Engine or Silver Lake are the only big players in the field, the notion that he's part of the solution and not part of the problem.

But he's started a battle where there are no winners but the lawyers who get paid to duke it out, and all the volunteers who've survived this long in an ecosystem increasingly dominated by big money are giving up and leaving.

Anyway if you got this far, consider donating to someone on gazafunds.com. It'll take much less time than reading this did.

[sirfrogsworth]

sirfrogsworth please i am begging to know your boomer uncle’s thought process when he installed all those spam search bars what on earth was he TRUING to do

This was my Uncle Larry. He died in 2014 from a lifetime of smoking.

But while he was alive, he was what my grandma would refer to as "a character."

I feel like seeing his photo gives a partial explanation of the toolbar fiasco.

He was a man stuck in the 1960s but extremely curious about new things.

It was the early 2000s and I was trying to make some extra money. So when he was interested in getting a computer I offered to build him one from scratch.

What I didn't consider about this arrangement was that I was basically signing up to be my uncle's IT person. If something went wrong, it could possibly be due to a mistake I made.

He called me up complaining he couldn't see his websites and that the computer was running slower than normal.

I boot up his system and it takes 10 minutes to get to Windows. The desktop was filled with random programs he installed. And when I opened his web browser I was immediately greeted with a dozen pop up advertisements. Once I nuked them all, all of the different search toolbars were revealed. There was maybe a few inches of space for viewing websites and he had just been looking at photos a segment at a time for weeks before wondering if maybe it wasn't supposed to work like that.

I asked him why he installed all of this crap and he told me he didn't realize he had a choice. He just thought you had to say yes to everything that popped up on the screen. He also opened every spam email he received.

To make matters even worse, when he was searching for lewd pictures of Catherine Bell (aka the "JAG lady" with nice cans), he ended up on various softcore porn sites containing ever more dangerous pop up ads. And he clicked on all of those as well.

He loved the internet. It was a wonderland for such a curious person. He loved typing in random things and just reading and looking at pictures for hours. Aside from Maxim photos of TV celebrities, his searches were pretty innocent. He looked at old cars he used to own and lawnmowers he wanted to buy. He read old war stories and found websites helping him learn how to whittle walking sticks.

But he had no sense of danger. He had a Leroy Jenkins approach to life. He just sort of jumped into whatever without any fear or caution. Which is probably why my parents were so pissed at him when he offered 8 year-old me a ride on his new motorcycle. He immediately took me off-road and up a steep hill without a helmet or telling me to hold on. And it was a Harley, so not really meant for that terrain.

I tried a virus scan and it just said "You have every virus." So I had to nuke his Windows install from orbit. I then gave him computer lessons, which he paid me for, so that sort of worked out despite how frustrating it was to keep him from clicking on random things.

Uncle Larry taught me an important lesson.

Never tell your family you know about computers.

[harksness]

She’s giving rich milf in this episode 😌

Like rich milf who’s kids you babysit and oh no her husband is not here and she needs to destress

BRO I WAS THINKING SOMETHING SO SIMILAR?? I GOTTA POP OFF ABT THIS ONE AND GET IT OUTTA MY SYSTEM

I was imagining a kinda Stacy's Mom situation pls help me im in shambles thinking about it 😭😭😭😭 just all the hot situations with milf agatha ugh 😭😭😭

ok some nsfw under the cut

like... she's your best friends mom... and you make any excuse you can to be around her. oh no you need someone to mow the lawn?? yes ma'am anything for you. oh you need help cleaning the pool?? absolutely youll be there. you come over to hang out with her kid??? she's a little too flirty when youre alone. one day you come over when your friend isnt home and you know it, just to see what happens. she insists on inviting you inside. she gets you a snack, sits a little too close to you and starts playing with you hair before commenting on how pretty you are.... maybe things escalate and she fucks you on the counter. maybe you start coming over to stay the night with your friend more and more only to sneak off into her moms room at night. maybe she needs to keep her hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet while she fucks you, breathing hotly against your neck.

or babysitting for her akjjdjf you stay up with her when she gets home after the kids have gone to bed and let her vent to you. quickly shes sharing a little too much about how her husband doesnt satisfy her, esp with his long weekends away for work... and when she leans over and rests a hand on your thigh you lose your mind a little bit. you dont think it can be real when she confesses that shes had her eye on you for awhile. idk maybe all of her frustrations cause her to snap a lil bit and she starts greedily making out with you on the couch you fell asleep on waiting for her to get home. maybe she gets on her knees and begs to eat you out. shes so desperate for a taste, its all shes been able to think about since meeting you. shes so pent up and desperate, she needs to relieve some of her stress and youre just too tempting. youre so so so happy to help her. maybe it starts to become tradition for you to wait up for her, for the two of you to fuck on the couch when she gets home from work after a long day. imagine making out with her and snaking your hand up her pencil skirt... shes grabbing at you, legs spread wide as she moans and praises you and calls you her good girl.

idk maybe she starts giving you little gifts. an expensive necklace she thought would look pretty on you... a nice lingerie set she tells you to wear for her. a new laptop for college.

idk maybe she sorta becomes your sugar mommy

uggghhh pls im not gonna be able to stop thinking about this milf agatha is the source of all my horny thoughts

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

how is wade gonna find out about logan and writer!reader???

Logan lit his cigar, grateful that your dog was better trained than Mary. Trigger might not like him very much but, there was still slack on the worn leather leash.

And he seemed content to let Logan do the morning walk, as long as the other man in your life didn't get any smart ass ideas about the pecking order. Fair enough, Logan reasoned. The dog was here first. And he'd been looking after you longer. "Hurry up, would, ya?" Logan grumbled. Trigger sneezed and proceeded to keep sniffing, looking for the perfect spot to take another leak and Logan rolled his eyes.

"The fuck are you doing?" Wade called, jogging across the street, drink carrier in his hand.

"The fuck does it look like?" Logan asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "didn't you have a date-"

"She had an early shift. Figured I'd bring not-so-virgin- Mary a coffee and try and get her to snitch out her baby daddy," Wade said. "Unless you wanna do it."

"If I tell you who it is you'll never believe it," Logan said.

"Try me," Wade challenged. "It's that fucking pervy mystery writer isn't it? God he's such a hack-"

"It's me," Logan snorted.

"Bullshit," Wade laughed. "You and I both know-"

"I fucked her raw on every flat surface in that apartment," Logan said taking a drag. "We broke her goddamn kitchen table. Do. The. Math." He took the drink carrier from Wade's hand and left him on the side walk, turning and walking upstairs with the dog in his hand, mentally bracing for the impact. Grunting softly. "Hold on a fucking minute. If we kill her dog she's gonna be upset."

Upstairs he set the coffee on the table and let the dog off-leash, "Be right back, Princess," he growled.

"Logan what-"

"Wade knows," He said, grunting as he ripped 'baby knife' out of his shoulder. "Gotta go let him try and kill me- get it out of his system."

"Logan!"

He leaned down and kissed you, smirking. "He's an idiot. But he's still a man. And I knocked up his baby sister... I'd probably be helpin' him kick someone else's shit in if they did you like I did."

"Men."

"We'll do it outside," he promised, kissing you again.

"Just don't fucking stab him in the head," you groan, reaching for your phone to call Vanessa and tell her the boys were about to catfight in the street.

"As long as he leaves my balls alone," Logan huffed. "Might take it a little personal if he goes there."

[lusmeitli]

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break. 

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him. 

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together. 

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left. 

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?” 

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily. 

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand. 

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped. 

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face. 

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

[pelcrow]

sopping wet..

[bithablu]

I'm having a difficult time with certain people I know IRL who say that both political parties are the same and it's not worth voting. The Palestinian genocide is usually their main talking point about how both parties suck and how they can't vote for anyone who wouldn't demand an immediate cease fire.

Ok. Cool. Name me one president who didn't have to deal with some kind of genocide. Now show me the one that dealt with it perfectly. No flaws. Quickly. Oh? None? Because politicians are deeply flawed people navigating an overly complicated system of checks and balances that are in place to prevent fascism and dictatorships? Huh.

Palestinians need humanitarian aid, support, political allies, and political pressure on Israel. Which candidate do you think would be more likely to provide ANY of that? The guy who moved the American embassy to Jerusalem, tacitly insinuating that Jerusalem was Israel's capital? Or the chick who called for a cease fire and has a history of supporting humanitarian aid programs?

Is she perfect? Fuck no. Is she good enough? Not on this topic. But which one of them is more like to adjust their policies?

Speaking of adjusting policies, have you heard the story of how Walz went from being beloved by the NRA to get constant F ratings from them? His daughter talked to him about how he was the only person she knew who had the power to prevent school shootings. So she talked and he listened. He prioritized life over lobbyists. Action instead of just thoughts and prayers.

Can you see JD Vance doing that? I can't. He's too busy insulting legal immigrants and letting women bleed out from miscarriages because doctors have to wait 'until the mother's life is in danger' to perform D&Cs. You know, that procedure to 'clean out' a woman after a miscarriage. It's technically an abortion and some doctors would rather wait until a woman is in septic shock than risk a jail sentence for obeying their Hippocratic oath. But Vance adjusting his stance on abortion laws to save lives is less important than making a stand against... I dunno, anti-evangelical behavior 🤷🏼‍♀️

Look, I know it's disheartening. It's fucking heart wrenching just to hear about what's happening in Gaza. But throwing your vote away does no one any good. If you want to make a difference, being indifferent with your vote is not the way to go.

Have you tried talking to your local/state politicians? Have you joined any organizations? Donated? What have you done?

For those of you who say that I'm afraid of the bad orange man, you know what- yeah. I'm afraid of what he could do. My daughter is already going to grow up with less rights than I had. Gods help her if she'd move to a different state; in some of the more restrictive states a woman has more bodily autonomy as a corpse than she does if she's pregnant.

Harris/Walz isn't the best choice but they are the better choice. Pro-union, pro-children, pro-education, pro-choice, pro-GBLTQ+, pro-environment.

If you're waiting for the perfect candidate, you're going to be waiting for a while.

[bororaurealis]

Just read a comment thread suggesting a headcanon/AU where Telemachus is adopted and am currently spiraling over the implication of it all

Imagine what Ody's thought process in killing the infant might've been?? "I saved another child and took him in as my own, why can't I do the same for this one?" It wouldn't be fair.

And then think about what Telemachus was going through after his newly adoptive father went MIA for twenty years and he never truly got to meet or thank the man who saved him and took him in as his own?

Imagine being abandoned by your birth parents as infant, and then adopted into a new loving family. Only to then be abandoned by your new ones (physically by one, emotionally by another).

[mattsfavoritestar]

back_to_matt_masterlist

NO CONTROL, matt sturniolo

part 1

synopsis… matt made it clear to everyone that you were his. everyone but you.

warnings… fratboy!matt, collagestudent!reader, female reader, mentions of kissing, slightly suggestive, slightly possessive!matt, slightly obsessive!matt, mostly fluffy, mentions of alcohol and drug usage,

word count… 1174

“i just don’t get it? do i look okay? is it my breath?”, you ranted as you felt your friends hand rubbing your back. yet another guy you tried flirting with scrambled away with small apologies. you didn’t even want to try with the rest, they all avoided you as if you had the plague.

“probably just some dumb rumor someone started” your friend reassured. you sighed as you downed the red solo cup you were nursing for the past five minutes. “i wanna dance” you mumbled as you pulled your friend over to the more crowded area.

your head felt warm and fuzzy with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls as the alcohol melted into your system. you weren’t paying attention to anyone else in the room nor did you care to. till you were literally knocked out of your trance.

“yo, watching where you stepping bitch”, a series of gasp followed. your friend balanced you by holding your shoulders then pushed you behind her. you heard her voice berate him for being blind and delusional as he clearly bumped into you. you were already done with the day with the failed hook up attempts still fresh in your mind.

“c’mon i just wanna go” you grumbled. you had no energy to deal with whatever drugs this fratboy was high off of. one of the guys who were watching you from afar walked up to the fratboy and whispered in his ear. you watch his eyes widen and jaw slightly drop. you figured it wasn’t your friends lecture that gave him said reaction but more so of what that guy told him.

he gripped his hair in a panic as the harsh words from your friend aired right over his head. you watch him curiously as he started stuttering out an apology to you. “i’m so- i didn’t- fuck please don’t tell sturniolo” he begged.

sturniolo?

matt sturniolo?

“what are you talking about?” you ask in both annoyance and confusion. “i swear i didn’t know you were sturniolo’s girl-“ you ignore the rest of his apology as you felt the little alochol you drank earlier fuel your emotions into a rage. you swiftly turn around and march out of the party with your friend calling after you in confusion.

“matthew bernard sturniolo!” you called out with anger laced in your voice. you were annoyed with how your night was going, annoyed with that stupid coke addict calling you out your name, and to top it off you were met the face of someone who could pass as matt’s clone.

“woah calm down sweetheart,” chris chuckles. you were annoyed with one triplet already, you didn’t need another practically laughing in your face. “did you know?” you ask with a pointed finger. his hands shot up in the air, “i got nothing to do that, kid’s got no control of himself” he smiled.

you rolled your eyes, “where is he chris” you ask. chris nods towards the stairs, indicating matt residing in his room. you push past him as you heard yet another chuckle fall from his lips. too many eyes were watching you as you walked toward the familiar door. it wouldn’t be the first that these guys saw you head to matt’s room, only this time, it felt different.

you didn’t even bother knocking as you swung the door open. instantly hit with clouds of smoke with the soft voice of frank ocean playing in the background. matt was sitting on his bed with his back to his headboard as his head lazily rested back.

you strutted over to him but felt your anger slightly slip at the sight of his relaxed face and tussled hair. a smirk slowly painted his face as his heavy eyelids revealed his reddened blue eyes. “enjoying the view?” he says in a cocky tone.

“fuck off, i know what you did” you stated. you felt his hands slither their way onto your waist then swiftly pull you onto his lap. “yeah? tell me what i did baby” he whispered as he trailed his lips on your neck, occasionally leaving small kisses.

that alcohol in your system made your skin feel warmer. that, mixed with the fact that matt looked so good right now really wasn’t helping your interrogation. your body subconsciously pushed closer to feel more of matt as your words grew shorter.

“matt fuck. no- no stop.” you say as you find your self restraint.

he looked at you with his hooded red eyes, blown out pupils, and glossy lips. you had to compose yourself before you did the complete opposite of what you originally came to do. “why’d you tell people i’m off-limits?” you calmly ask him, you weren’t even mad anymore.

he shrugged, “just didn’t feel like sharing” he mumbled. you sighed as your fingers threaded through the back of his hair. “matt, we said no strings-“ you were cut off by his low groan. matt never took himself as the type of guy to like to have his hair being played with. if anything he always said that was for those corny ass couples. yet here he was melting at your touch.

“i’m not sorry if that’s what you’re asking” he says. you let out another sigh, “matt you can’t go around claiming me then go fuck other-“ a hand gripped your jaw as he makes you look directly at him.

“don’t even start with that shit, m’all yours” he says in a stern voice. you were at lost for words, entire topic completely blurring away. he pulled you into a kiss then drops his hand to your waist as his other holds your lower back. you pull away slightly, hovering over his lips. “i think we’re both a little too vulnerable right now” you whisper.

matt’s head drops to the crook of your neck. he inhales with a groan as the scent of your perfume fills his nostrils. “you always smell so good” he mumbles against your skin. you gasp as he flips you both over, you head bouncing onto the pillow. his entire body laid on top of you. “matt i can’t sleep like this, my legs might go numb” you laugh.

you felt him shrug, “i don’t care” he says. you remove your hand from his head to try reaching for your phone. matt’s head snapped up with a scowl on his face. “i gotta text-“ you were cut off as he takes your phone and tosses it to the bedside table. “text her tomorrow” he says as he takes your hand and places it back onto his head.

you laugh again, “matt you’re insane”. he didn’t respond but instead nestled his head right onto your stomach as his other creeps under your shirt. you didn’t care as you felt the weight of his hand under your bra, you knew there was no sexual intention behind it. as your eyes drooped down, you knew that you were going to be pissed with yourself in the morning.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Bro... how would Stanley/Stanford deal with their s/o (y/n) having a stalker? (As someone who has been a victim of stalking, it's terrifying)

They are afraid to go outside to do things such as check the mail, gets harassed online through text/emails, and overall just terrified 24/7, constantly paranoid with the fear of the worst happening to them if they let their guard down :(

Stan will wholeheartedly stay with you, just so he could use Ford’s crossbow because how dare some creepy fuck make you feel unsafe inside and outside the house.

He’ll fist fight them if he must, also he’ll use this as an excuse to teach you kickboxing.

If he ever find out where this stalker lives, best believe that he’ll make sure they’ll be the one scared to come out of their one house by sending letters depicting threats of what he’d do should they step a toe out of their own home, and it’s in excruciating detail.

However if the stalker try to send the letter into the police, the police can’t seem to trace who sent the letter…Stan is too good at what he does it’s almost terrifying but it works out for you as the stalker is scared as shit that someone will set throw a Molotov cocktail at them while getting the mail…or depants them when they least expect it.

‘Don’t you think this is a bit much?’ You asked.

‘Where they’re threatening my baby? Never, I could’ve done way worse for you.’ Stan said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you close to his side as you both snuggled up together while watching television, feeling the safest you ever been in a long while.

Stan then proceeds to run the bastard over in his car ❤️

Ford will probably have some sort of surveillance cameras set up that he would check now and then for any and all abnormal activity regarding your stalker.

He doesn’t take this kindly as Bill had a tendency to watch him closely, so much so to the point that every time he was out in the woods he felts as though he was being watched, surveyed and observed like he was nothing sort of a experiment.

Gives you his crossbow to shot the bastard between the eyes because the was legal right? Well it is in certain dimensions and he’ll be damned if he didn’t give you something to protect yourself with if something bad were to happen.

He doesn’t trust the police, he thinks their incompetent and can’t do their jobs for shit. So he’ll take justice into his own hands by digging up as much dirt as he could on the person by enlisting some help from his most trusted friends.

But most importantly Ford makes sure you’re okay, makes you reassured and doesn’t make you feel shit for feeling like you were being watched, stalked and harassed online by someone who doesn’t know their boundaries. He’s still recovering rom his own experience with a psychopath (bill), and will make sure that you learn to heal and move on together by being a constant and reassuring presence within your life. A positive force that kept you safe and made sure you were okay at the beginning and end of every day.

He wants you to live your life freely, not scared of the outside.

If he sees that your being harassed online, Ford will make sure that the stalkers details are leaked to the public by whatever means necessary along with the creepy tendencies they have been known for but punished far too lightly for by the system that protects these creeps.

(Ford may sick the gnomes on the twat, claiming he had found them the perfect gnome royalty for them and see how they like it.)

[tinydefector]

Dude i am so hyped for your shockwave rut cycle fic. I have a party hat on and a party popper just stalking your blog waiting for it to drop

Shockwave Rut cycle

Sorry this took so long hand alot come up but it's finally here woooo.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, giant/tiny, heat/ mating cycles. Valveplug, NSFW

_____________

It wasn't often Shockwave was around this many Mechs let alone this many Humans in one place. It was all due to him working alongside Autobots in a hope of creating a blocker for their Rut. Shockwave was a logical Mech but even that didn't stop the effect of human Hormones on his system. They had been helping him with his test, providing Blood, sweat, skin and saliva samples for Shockwave,  they were polite and worked well with him despite being Autobot Allied. 

Shockwave's usual demeanour was faltering as he found himself in an unfamiliar situation. The effects of the human hormones on his systems were undeniable, stirring up a primal response within him, he had never had much of an issue with his cycle while on Cybertron due to not being around mechs and he could just force himself into more work. 

Shockwave couldn't ignore the way their scent seemed to envelop him, His internal systems buzzed with a need, joints and internal workings clicking and whirling as he busied himself, His logical mind battled against the primal instincts that now had him eager to take a rut mate. The allure of the human's scent, had him venting out in frustration. 

Their eyes flicker to him from their spot. "Is it getting bad?" Shockwave's optic focus in on them, the yellow hue cast a faint light across their skin. "It... it is a challenge," Shockwave admits, his voice strained, he was doing his best to stay focused but the lingering pheromones were making it difficult.  "The effects of your pheromones are proving to be... difficult to ignore."

Despite his best efforts to maintain control over his impulses, Shockwave can feel his old coding crying out with each passing moment. pushing him to the brink of giving in to his most basic instincts. He goes deathly silent as another deep vent of air hits Their skin. 

They take a short moment to process what he had said, eyes lingering on him watching the slight twitch in his frame as he continues to type down the effects. "Shockwave, how long does your rut last?"

"My rut... it can last for several cycles," Shockwave responds, his voice clinical and detached as he tries to maintain his composure. "Does it settle down for a while after you have mated?" They inquire. Shockwave's systems buzz at their question, a slight whine leaves His engine as his helm snaps back to them, optic aglow as he stares. 

" The effects of the rut do tend to subside for a time," Shockwave explains, As he speaks, Shockwave's thoughts swirl with conflicting emotions, where they inquiring out of scientific knowledge, spying for the Autobots or genuine concern for him. 

"So it would be more beneficial for you to have some release so you can continue your work?" 

"That is a logical assessment," Shockwave concedes, his voice betraying a hint of need. He looks away from them as he moves across the lab checking another reading of the test. He contemplates the human's suggestion, Shockwave finds himself torn between his commitment to his scientific pursuits and the primal urges that now threaten to overwhelm him. 

He didn't trust any of the other mechs and he doubted any would agree during the cycle, seeking release as a means of restoring his systems presents a tempting solution, but he did not wish to deal with the bureaucracy of both alliances. But the truth was it was impacting his work.  

“Shockwave, how can I help, I can see your mind working a hundred miles an hour” a soft smile graces their lips. 

 

Shockwave goes stiff, slowly looking over his shoulders at them. He takes a moment debating, "If you are willing to assist in providing a solution to alleviate the effects of my rut, it would involve a mutual agreement." As he speaks, Shockwave's processor analyses each move they make. “I'm willing to help Shockwave” they call back. 

It has the Decepticon scientist stalking towards them, frame vibrating and whining with each movement as he moves to pin them again the desk. 

"Fuck.... your really pent up aren't you?" There is worry in their voice which they try to mask as Shockwave runs a quick analysis. Their eyes nearly bulge when he releases his spike from its interface panel. a wave of relief that washes over him, as heated air leaves his frame. 

"I... I have been neglecting my own needs in pursuit of my work," Shockwave admits, his voice is gravelled and strained. "The effects of my rut have taken their toll.” 

"Can I touch?" Their eyes linger on his spike that slowly weeps Transfluid. his optics flickering with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "Proceed with caution," Shockwave responds. Their hands are rather small but they make a shutter and groan leave Shockwave when they come into contact with his spike. Fingers tracing over the lines and lights as they watch him. 

The sensation of their small hands tracing over the lines and lights of his spike ignites a primal hunger within him, urging him to seek more of their touch. Shockwave growls. 

They yelp as Shockwave roughly presses them onto the lab bench, caging them in underneath him as he looms over them. The slow drag of his spike across their body elicits a whine of need from the human, a sound that only serves to fuel his own primal urges to claim them as his.

"mine to claim," Shockwave growls, his voice low and commanding. As he hovers above the human, Shockwave allows himself to be consumed by the intoxicating smell of their skin, each touch and movement they make as another growl leaving him. As their thighs part to accommodate his movements, the intoxicating sensation of their bodies pressed together driving him to seek more of their touch. A low purr almost echo's from his frame. With slow, rhythmic rutting against them, Shockwave hunched over their smaller body. waves of pleasure ripple through his frame, the transfluid that soaks into their clothing. 

As his normal servo moves to hike up their shirt, discarding It as he studies them. "You are a creature of temptation," Shockwave murmurs, his voice laced with hunger. It's only when his servos Drift further down their body do they let out a loud whine. Shockwave is rather determined with ripping their pants off, only to be hit with an even more potent scent of their arousal, igniting a feral response within him. 

The sight of their exposed skin and the potent scent of their arousal fuel the flames. Spike leaks against them as he begins grinding against them, doing his best not to hurt them. "Please " they call out, shuttering as he drags his spike between their legs slowly teasing it against their sex. Their back arches as one of their hands grab his arm. 

Shockwave's systems hum with a mix of primal satisfaction as they surrender to him, pleading for him, their voice laced with need. The energon in his lines feel like fire. 

Shockwave presses his spike into them, so slowly as to not break them, using all his restraint. Their squeals as he grinds deeper into them their back arches as he rearranges their position.   

They cling to him, nails scratching against his paint. "Shockwave!" They call out. Shockwave feels a surge of satisfaction and arousal wash over him. The slow, deliberate thrusting between them elicits a chorus of moans and pleas, their arching back and collection of whines that fall from their lips has a deep rumble of contentment leave him. cry of his name, "Shockwave!", echoes in the air, a plea that spurs him on. He picks up pace, servo guiding them only his spike. The tight squeeze has him growling as he leans into them. Shockwave allows himself to be consumed by the intoxicating swirl of hormones, despite claiming every inch he physically could. 

Each drag of Shockwave's spike is followed by the symphony of moans and gasps that escape them. Shockwave continues to admire just how much of him they can take, watching each drag as transfluid leaks from their joint bodies. Another cry leaves them as Shockwave's spike begins to swell, locking them together, his Uneven thrust turning into deep grinds, his frame whines and gears grind towards loudly with a deep guttural growl from the Decepticon scientist.

"Shockwave!" The human's breathless cry of his name reverberates through him, The moment he overloads they squeal and squirm under him as he pumps transfluid deep into them. Eagerly rocking into them as his scenes slowly return feeling fulfilled and satisfacted. They twitch and whine even louder as they try to pull away only for Shockwave to roughly thrust into them again to keep them in place. 

“I require you to stay still” His voice sounds breathless as his helm tilts down and rest on the table they are pressed against. Each load of transfluid that is pumped into them, has whines leaving them. Transfluid running down the Junction of their legs. “Too Much” they try to argue only for more of the pink fluid to flood out of them as Shockwave presses deeper. At this rate Shockwave believe he might just have to come to an agreement to keep this human around. 

_________________

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[cordeliawhohung]

I’m taking advantage of this open request inbox and am requesting a Simon and chip carving pumpkins because because because because because idk

pumpkin carving | an In Limbo extra | simon riley x reader | fluff

happy fall <3

A silvery sheen glints off of blades in the amber light of the kitchen. 

Sterile. Laid flat. Spoons made for gouging litter the countertop next to toothpicks and bowls. These are tools for gutting. Tools made for hurting. Ripping out entrails and the essence of life in ivory seeds and webby viscera. 

Victims sit in perfect silence atop the counter. Cold. Unknowing. Unable to speak.

“It’s pumpkin carving, sweetheart. Not surgery.” 

“You take it… very seriously,” you humor. 

Simon’s smirk gleams brighter than the knives sitting near his fingertips. There are very few times when you’ve caught that ardent excitement brewing in the depths of his eyes, but you never expected him to be so ecstatic about carving pumpkins. 

“Course. This is a serious occasion,” he deadpans. 

“Uh huh.” 

Knuckles tap against the two pumpkins in front of you. He must have found the two largest ones at the market. Fresh and unblemished, they’re so big you swear they’ll burst. Their circumference trumps that of Simon’s own noggin. If you hollowed one out and put it on his head, he’d look like some blinded astronaut. 

“Want me to cut your top off for you?” he asks. The blades adorning the counter are long, yet Simon’s hands dwarf them as he picks one up. 

“My top, or the pumpkin’s?” you quip. 

The next time he smirks, his teeth peek between his lips. “Whichever one you want, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, and it isn’t long before blades are sunk into taut orange flesh. Stems cut away, the fibrous strands are left exposed beneath the unforgiving lights above you. Tilting the pumpkin, you dip your hand into its guts. Nothing but sinew and cold goop greet you, and you try to hide your discomfort in the way it burrows beneath your nails. You toss the entrails into a bucket where they fester and sit. 

“How do you do this for fun?” you question, looking at the mess in the palm of your hands. “The texture makes my teeth hurt.” 

“Had worse on my hands before,” Simon admits. He’s using the side of a spoon to scrape and thin out the walls of his pumpkin, nearly twenty steps ahead of you.

“Dare I ask?” you mumble as you shake your hands. 

“Used to be a butcher,” he shrugs. 

“I feel like a butcher now.” 

“Least you don’t smell like one.” 

He helps thin the walls of your pumpkin when it’s sufficiently gutted. Black sleeves ripple and curl around his biceps, having rolled them up to keep them clean. Forearms exposed, you watch the muscle dance. Tendons pull taut as his arm moves repetitively back and forth. He’s so involved with the work he doesn’t catch sight of you staring. Gawking. You hate the feeling of pumpkin guts caught in your fingers, but you think you could watch him carve them all day. 

Next, he has you plan out your design by poking guide holes with toothpicks. Simon has a system. Expertly planned and thought out. He tells you how much Joseph loves carving pumpkins, and how Beth was the one who came up with the idea with the toothpicks. It’s hard to drive back to Manchester just for pumpkin carving, but now he has you now to partake in the Halloween festivities with him. 

“Careful now,” Simon warns. “Just sharpened them earlier, yeah?” 

“I know how to use knives, Si.” 

Hands up in playful defense, he lets you get to work. 

Simon is an artist, you learn. Really, it shouldn't surprise you that he takes an interest in it, saying how nearly half of his body is covered in sharp designs and ink. It’s nice watching him work. Brows furrow with focus while deft fingers transform a simple gourd into a sculpture — he looks like a work of art himself. 

Chiseled out of marble with pick and hammer, the hands that made him were clumsy, yet you’d kiss them all the same. Just the same as you’d kiss the crooked bridge of his nose and the deep settled scars and keloids that jut from his body. The soft curve of his abdomen. The rigid lines along his back. 

“Ow, fuck…”

“What’d I tell ya?” 

You’d even kiss that stupid smirk on his face. 

It vanishes the moment he sees the blood drip from the side of your finger, choosing instead to coo and corral you out of the kitchen. Arguing with him, you tell him it’s not as bad as it looks as he sits you on the sofa in the living room, but he doesn’t listen. It isn’t long before he’s knelt in front of you, wiping the blood clean and patching up your trivial wound. 

“Gotta prevent cross contamination,” he says just as the blood stops flowing. 

“Cross contamination?” you repeat. 

“Yeah, between you and the patient.” It takes everything within you not to scoff at him as he secures a band-aid around your finger. “Y’know, I always thought surgeons had steadier hands than that.” 

“Insulting my work?” 

“You might never practice medicine again.” 

This time you truly flout him with a huff. He’s finished patching you up but he stays knelt before you, pinching your finger between his own as if he can’t quite cauterize the wound. 

“Anythin’ else I can do for you, doctor?” he hums. 

Sighing, you look over your shoulder toward the kitchen. Your oversized squash sits midway through surgery with a half formed eye. “Might as well finish up my work for me. You know, since my license is about to be revoked.” 

Simon gets you to look back at him as he gently tugs on your finger. You watch as he raises your hand to his lips where they gently curl around your digit in a kiss. His eyes don’t stray from you for a moment. Unrelenting. Adoring. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

You’re left sitting there with a sliced finger that burns with the weight of a kiss as he goes to finish carving your pumpkin. It’s too late to worry about contamination; you’re already afflicted with warmth. Some raging sickness that leaves your skin on fire. Still, you thumb over the fox themed band-aid with a smile as your lips begin to tingle in jealousy. 

[hawberries]

holy shit, could you share some of your ratios/artis because multiple top percents is nuts and I wanna see the stats

HAHA TY! Unfortunately you've activated my yap card, so I'm really sorry about how the rest of this post is going to go. I do want to admit that it actually isn't that impressive because there's ways to sort of "game" the Akasha leaderboard system, usually by sharing high CV pieces between your characters, overbuilding crit rate and ER or finding specific leaderboards that aren't as competitive, but it still is a fun sort of low-stakes, inconsequential PVP mode that I enjoy! This is my Akasha page. As you can see my Emilie and Kinich are not doing well.

One notable way I've "cheated" is the fact that my Chiori's ranking is on the Jade Cutter leaderboard, but that's not a real place, because my Chiori is on a Wolfs-Fang. I'm thinking of going for her sword next time she reruns, actually, so she may lose her ranking soon. The boards only look at your artifacts and then make their own assumptions, so board ranking is a VERY poor reflection of in-game performance. Another example is for any Childe mains who have him on Nymph's Dream: it's not actually that good of a set for him! The boards overestimate the uptime, but in actual gameplay, especially if you look at International speedruns, the uptime is bad and he often performs better with mixed sets. However, the difference is not likely to be felt in a practical scenario outside of speedruns and high-level play, so it's reasonable to keep him there for the valour, since he's still going to be good enough.

the reason my Mualani is so high even though I am not a Mualani main is because 1) she's so new that everyone is still working on her domain and using placeholder pieces and 2) I hit her with the yassify beam (gave her this absolutely stupid Hydro dmg goblet which is by far the best piece on my entire account). It just gets passed around between all my watery guys depending on whose personal damage I'm depending on the most at the time, but since Mualani is a hypercarry and Ayato and Yelan are more supportive, it makes the most sense to leave it on her. I expect her to drop a lot in the rankings once people have a chance to farm the Codex set more.

I'm very chuffed with my Navia's build because I recently crafted a new feather for her with the artifact transmuter. Feathers are not broadly recommended to craft, but Navia's feather was by far the most obvious weak link on my account – in the sense that not only was it so bad that it would be easy to get an upgrade (it had 4 low rolls of crit damage and NO other useful stats, not even lower-value ones like atk% or ER) but the rest Navia's pieces were good enough that I had no reason to still be actively farming her domain. Anyway, I got quite lucky with the crafted feather, though as you can see it's still easily the weakest of all her pieces. This is enough to tide me over until Nighttime Whispers is in the strongbox :D

I've worked really hard on my Xiao's build – I've strongboxed 364 Vermilion pieces to date – but Xiao, being an older character with dedicated mains, has a very competitive board, so I don't expect to ever get much higher than this. Isn't that feather disgusting, though? I farmed Marechaussee domain a lot but never got a build good enough to replace this one, especially considering I'm on Jade and therefore about to overcap on crit rate just by sneezing. He has 97% crit rate WITH A CDMG HAT, I want to point out! I am considering crafting a circlet for him as his current one is relatively weak, but that's a problem for future Phee to think about, since I'll want to rebalance his build anyway once I get Xianyun – he'll need less ER and less crit rate.

What level of nerd am I about combat stats in the video game Jenshin Intact? I do my own damage calculations to see which pieces are best! That's why Xiao is on an attack goblet instead of an Anemo DMG one 😔

Also… see how my Wanderer is top 2%? I still don't have an EM goblet on the Flower of Paradise Lost set. RNG is really so funny sometimes. Anyway, at the moment I've allotted myself 6 weeks of farming time to try and get Emilie at least a good 2pc 2pc, after which I'll probably go back to making my Kinich not suck!

[aftgficrec]

My Personal Favorite Fics EVER!! All Neil/Andrew

I hope I am doing this right! I just hit the share button on my bookmarked fics. Idk if any of these have been on here before (I have read a lot of fics and it gets confusing to know which ones I found on here bc there are so many good recommendations, or ones I found on my own. But these are 3 of my favorite fics that I feel like are the most well done!

• Everything's Alright by DarkD: This fic is unfinished but so worth the read!! It is a soulmates au, and in it Neil and Andrew are looking out for eachother since they are 6 and 7 years old. It completely changes their dynamic but manages to keep the characters realistic. I love the direction it was going, I hope the author finishes it, but even if they don’t what they have written so far is worth the read.

• If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger: This fic is soooo amazing!! It was posed pretty recently (starting January 2024 and finishing in May) and It shows a different direction with Aaron and Andrew’s bonding, and different reasons for them having problems with each other. It features writer/author Andrew and Law Student turned police officer Aaron. The writing is so high quality and it is a completely finished fic!! The writing to show the writing of the book Andrew has written alone is impressive enough to get you to read it. I love it so much, it also gives a more realistic approach to Neil’s life and trauma as well as gives you more of a perspective on the problems of Aaron’s life. (Even tho it’s an au and doesn’t show his life during AFTG)

• Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22: This fic is not finished but completely captivated my attention when I saw it. I was surprised I had not read it before (because I am obsessed with Raven Neil fics, and this is one of them) but then I realized it was posted within the last year or so. It’s completely underrated. It does have a lot of hits but the kudos count not being in the thousands is a crime against humanity. The realistic take on. Neil’s trauma and different things going on as he is still connected very heavily to the Moriyama’s is sooo interesting. And if you are looking for a fic where Neil is a victim of SA/Rape this fic is also a good one for you. (Though it does have a lot of trauma so mind the tags) I know a lot of people are looking for fics like that tho and it’s hard to find bc there is so much SA trauma in AFTG 😔

Thanks for the recs and for sharing your thoughts on the fics! Readers, all of these stories lean toward the darkest themes of AFTG. -A

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Previously recced here

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 43145 Words, Complete, 2024]

Previously featured in this long andreil + aaron angst ask, our staff recs writers post, and as a random rec

Neil is imprisoned at sixteen years old for being the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew obsesses, and Aaron obsesses because Andrew does, and everything goes wrong and raw and painful. Feat. the twinyards breaking each other’s hearts, and a decent amount of shade on the American justice system.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

​​Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22 [Rated M, 163298 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024]

After the horrific incident that happened in the nest and the sound of Kevin crying, Nathaneil made the hard call and bargained with his life to get Jean and Kevin out, having no slight idea about the storm that was heading his way And after being missing for two years, Jean and Kevin swallowed the hard truth that Nathaneil might be dead somewhere To their surprise one day he appears out of the blue looking so much like their brother but nothing like Nathaneil at all Or Nathniel went on the run with his mother when he was 9 years old but three years later Nathan caught up to them and threw Nathaneil in the nest So we can say some things went a bit different .

NB: playlist for this fic

tw: dark, tw: gang rape, tw: dubcon, tw: human trafficking, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: assault, tw: flashbacks, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: abuse and torture, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: medication addiction and withdrawal, tw: recreational drug use, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: vomit, tw: homophobia, tw: canonical character death

[necrotic-nephilim]

ok ok but jayroytim😏

this feels especially funny if brudick happens in the background and oliver hates the fact he's now in-laws with bruce

so i have to regretfully admit i'm not really a fan of JayRoy, or at least i'm not a fan of the popular version of JayRoy. i think JayRoy could work and would be a lot of fun! but i have *zero* interest in New-52!JayRoy (or New-52!Roy in general) or rlly any version of Jason and Roy on the Outlaws together. both bc i'm a pre-Flashpoint stan at heart. usually i can stand newer content for ship fodder but for these two oh man it grinds my gears how badly Roy got fucked over-

BUT BUT. that doesn't mean i think the ship has *no* merit. because Jason and Roy *do* have some fodder in pre-Flashpoint. they meet briefly when Jason is Robin, and then again when Jason is Red Hood during that Outsiders arc where Black Lightning is in prison. so! there's definitely material to work with. especially playing into the more fucked up nature of Roy knowing Jason when he was Robin. i think it's cute if Jason had a childhood crush on Roy. and maybe Roy even thought Jason was kind of cute, a spunky kid with a lot of energy and passion. then with Jason as Red Hood, Roy openly doesn't trust him and doesn't like that they're working with him. Jason is just a run-of-the-mill villain with a nasty kill count. and sure, Roy's got a record of tangling with people more on the villain side of things, but even going near the Red Hood feels like a step too far.

adding Tim to the mix is really fun. bc honestly it gives Roy some kind of a fetish for guys who have been Robin and i find that to be delightful. like, even if Roy just sees Jason as the Red Hood, he can't *quite* let go of the image of Jason as Robin. like it just won't get out of Roy's system ever since Jason came back. i think, if i were to write these three together, i'd have Roy and Tim get together first of all people, just because Roy is trying really hard to stop thinking about Jason as Robin, especially now that Jason is older and a little meaner. he's full of guilt about it, and he can't talk to Dick because he's still not sure where Dick's feelings fall about the whole Jason thing so. he goes to Tim instead, thinking if he fucks a different Robin, maybe he'll get it out of his system. Tim's pretty and he's just old enough that it's not *too* morally questionable for Roy to seek him out. it takes a while for Roy to work up the nerves because he and Tim aren't particularly close, so how do you even approach that conversation to make it look organic. it's awkward and Tim can definitely tell something is up but hey, who's going to say no to Roy Harper offering sex? one of Dick's best friends? especially if we put this right after Kon and Bart's death where Tim is just. sort of lonely and seeking companionship. in some ways,, Roy would remind him of Kon, just a little. that sort of cocky attitude and snarky smile.

i would add Jason in by having JayTim happen alongside RoyTim. it's not like Roy and Tim are serious enough to be exclusive and Tim knows Roy is sleeping around, so Tim ends up in a weird hatefucking situation with Jason, which definitely was not supposed to happen. Jason just has a damning way of getting under Tim's skin and won't stop bothering Tim until he gets some kind of attention from Tim. and somehow Jason is interesting enough for Tim to cave. and he doesn't even think about the two relationships he's balancing until he happens to sleep with Jason after being with Roy the night before and there are still marks all over him and Jason does *not* like sharing. so when he interrogates Tim and gets nothing, he does the reasonable thing of stalking Tim to figure out who it is. and it just happens to be the guy Jason had a crush on as a kid.

i think Roy finding out he tried so hard to avoid Jason that he accidentally ended up with the same fuck buddy as Jason would be the funniest thing in the world. like it's not something he can run from anymore and he has to accept that. he tries to awkwardly ask what Tim even sees in the guy bc well, Jason's a killer and not known for being mentally stable. but he's also the guy who exonerated Black Lightning with no real motive besides just helping out. he's complicated and Roy doesn't know how to react. Tim just sort of shrugs bc how do you even explain Jason Todd and well, one thing leads to another and Tim ends up in the middle of the most emotionally charged threesome he's ever been in. love the idea of Jason and Roy using Tim as a toy while they work out their feelings for each other. to me that's the peak dynamic. Jason and Roy are pissed about liking each other and somehow, Tim got roped into things. their relationship is not healthy or normal whatsoever, but somehow, they end up balancing each other out nicely.

background BruDick is also hilarious tho. bc there is no one who hates Bruce more than Oliver and he'd be so annoyed that not only did Roy get tangled up with the Bats, but now everything is so weird their families are pretty tangled together and Oliver has to deal with Bruce a lot more than he wants to. and he's glaring daggers about it the whole time.