#it would just be a blanket lump picture in the dark

[wormthe]

my kitty cat loves caves and tents and i love her!!!

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Part 15.5 Special with Eri!Reader spending the day with Garp! (Luffy is in the back with dozens of lumps on his head for telling him ‘No’)

Garp is being scolded by his troops for trying to ditch his responsibilities (Which he throws a fit for, arguing he wants to spend time with his granddaughter!)

Garp wears a Hawaiian Shirt because he’s taking a ‘day off’, and buys Reader a cute little Sailor Dress, gushing over how adorable she looks (They spend the day going around the City/Town)

Reader is trying to stop Garp from buying her a lot of stuff (Clothes, Children’s Books, Toys, Games, Blankets, a King Sized Mattress, Cute Accessories, etc) and carrying all of it, making her worry over his health (Garp orders his men to carry all the stuff so she doesn’t have to worry about him *Right after he’s done bawling from how sweet Reader is worrying about his health, unlike his Grandsons* and proceeds to carry Reader in his arm, calling her a sweetheart)

She’s trying to stop Garp because she’s fine with what she has, but Garp wants to spoil her (As a grandpa, it’s his right and privilege to spoil his one and only granddaughter!)

Garp later buys Reader a big Ice Cream, which she shyly says she can’t eat all of it, and asks ‘Can I share with you, Grandpa Garp?’ (He gently sets her down and falls to his knees *Breaking the ground* and proceeds to bawl once again by how much of a sweetheart his granddaughter is, as his ingrate and very ‘uncute’ grandsons would NEVER share their food with him, and happy shares the Ice Cream, ignoring all the looks he’s getting)

At the end up the day he very reluctantly has Reader go back to Luffy and heads back to his ship

However, when he got there he and Coby have very dark and serious looks with Garp asking Coby if he’s ‘Got them’, which Coby grimly nods and reaches into his coat to take out a large and very thick yellow file, handing it to Garp, who opens it (To reveals Dozens upon Dozens of pictures of Garp and Reader spending time together)

Garp is excited because now he has perfect pictures for ‘Bragging Rights’ over having the ‘Cutest Granddaughter in the World’ (Garp gave Coby the ‘mission’ to take pictures so he can look back at spending time with his cute Granddaughter)

I love how overdramatic Garp can get (He’s just silly)

-It started with a call from Grandpa Garp, contacting Luffy telling him, “I want to spend time with my only little granddaughter!”

-Luffy said no but when Garp’s fist came through the Den-Den Mushi, something you were questioning how it worked, leaving several lumps on Luffy’s head, he agreed.

-The island was a beautiful port city, filled with lots of tourists and scenery, perfect for having a nice day out!

-Nami helped dress you in a blue and white sundress, it almost looked like a sailor’s outfit, paired with your hat after pulling your hair into a milkmaid braid with Robin’s help.

-Sanji, Robin, and Nami were the ones to pass you off to Garp, who had collapsed to his knees, seeing how cute you looked, with Nami giving him the rules, “No leaving the island, she needs to be back here by nightfall, and she needs to keep her hat on at all times.”

-Garp was going to question, before he remembered that everyone and their mother was looking for you, wanting the bounty and the glory that came with capturing you, but that wouldn’t happen while grandpa is around.

-Garp held you up in his arms, one of your little hands holding onto his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, to balance yourself, as he beamed brightly down at you, “I’m so happy I get to spend some time with you Y/N~”

-You smiled up at him, feeling his elation, “I am too grandpa!” Garp froze in his tracks before setting you down, making you tilt your head in confusion before he collapsed to his knees then his hands, crying on how adorable you were!

-There were other marines around, luckily who didn’t recognize you as Devil Child Y/N, your new title, something you had enjoyed sharing with Robin, all they could see was Garp and his adorable little granddaughter.

-The day was spent with the two of you exploring, having fun, all while Garp was running from the marines, who were yelling at him to do his job, while he yelled, “No! I’m spending time with my granddaughter!”

-Once they gave up, letting him have his fun, but a few bold men still tried to approach to strong arm him back to perform his duties, Garp beamed at his victory.

-To celebrate he took you to a fancy restaurant, almost like the Bartie and the two of you shared a meal together.

-You were eating a fried potato, elation on your face as it was so tasty- not as tasty as Sanji’s but it was still tasty! Garp smiled down at you, having devoured his own meal so he could watch you eat- you were so cute!

-You noticed his stare and you smiled, holding up your fork with another fried potato, “Here grandpa!” it was like a light from heaven shown down upon him as he bawled into his elbow, “How is it I have such a sweet granddaughter?! None of my other grandkids were never as nice as you are!!”

-The other patrons couldn’t help but grin, seeing how whipped he was for you, but by the time he calmed down you had eaten the potato, not wanting it to get cold.

-As the day came to an end, after you had told him that you didn’t need all the toys in the toy shops around, or all of the fancy dresses, showing him that you didn’t need material items, as your smile was brightest when he was just spending time with you, like when the two of you danced in the square when a band came out.

-The final stop before he would take you back to Luffy was an ice cream parlor, something he wouldn’t take no for an answer for, getting you the biggest, fanciest, sundae they had.

-Seeing your sparkly eyes and bright smile when it was placed in front of you was his cherry on top, he could help but grin warmly.

-You fidgeted lightly in your chair, looking worried before you looked up, unknowingly giving him huge puppy eyes, “Grandpa- will you help me eat this? It’s too big.”

-Garp quickly was in tears away, praising you, “You’re such a good grandchild! What did I do to deserve an angel like you Y/N?!”

-You were passed out when Garp arrived back at the ship, Franky grinning as he took you from Garp, holding you close as he beamed brightly, “We had a fun day! We should do that again!”

-Luffy tried to tell him no and quickly wound up covered in lumps moments later as Garp was glaring, “Ungrateful grandson! Why can’t you be more like Y/N?!”

-Nami face palmed, shaking her head slightly lightly, exasperated by the antics of these two, but as she turned to you, seeing that smile on your face despite being asleep, she couldn’t help but smile, seeing you so happy.

-As Garp arrived back to his ship, he had a fierce glare on his face as Coby approached him, saluting, “I have what you asked me to gather, Sir.”

-Garp nodded, taking a folder as everyone around was staring, thinking that he was actually working while being out with his granddaughter.

-He opened the file and immediately he smiled, his intimidating aura fading as he gushed, as the folder was filled with thousands of photos of you, seeing you smiling and having fun as Garp gushed on how adorable you were.

-Everyone around him, except Coby, face palmed, seeing their totally whipped leader. Sengoku wasn’t going to be happy that Garp shirked his duties for the day.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“C’mere, squirt.”

The great pine forests of East Texas have been, for the most part, miraculously spared of Empire destruction. The American Southwest was largely destroyed, along with countless other hugely important geographic landmarks on Earth, but East Texas — and all the memory it holds — seems to have fared just fine.

They will rebuild, anyways.

His son straightens immediately at Keith’s gentle beckoning and toddles over, climbing on top of his bent knee. He smiles softly, placing a balancing hand on his back — his palm spans the entirety of the kid’s back, holy shit, he’s so tiny, how was Keith ever placed in charge of something so tiny — and uses the other to point at a brown smudge high up in a Loblolly. Cory squints. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith sees Lance press his hands to his face and muffle a scream. Goober.

“That’s a red-tailed hawk,” he murmurs. “That’s the bird you hear in movies.”

Cory hums in understanding, although he probably doesn’t. They don’t watch a lot of movies. Keith once read about how detrimental screens are for developing children in one of Shiro’s many parenting books, so they don’t watch a lot of T.V. (Back when Cory wasn’t even with them yet, and Keith was panicking nightly. Lance had to fish all their devices from the garbage. It was a time.)

“Caw,” says Cory sagely. Keith snorts.

“Yes, buddy. Caw. If you sit real still, the bird might even move.” He hears the echo of his father’s voice, decades old, in the back of his mind; a memory, frayed at the edges, of Keith in this very forest, held in the same way he’s holding his own son, listening his Pa quietly name all the birds and rocks and trees. Hanging on his every word, even though he didn’t get it all. The smell of the pine trees, the rumble of Pa’s low voice. He swallows the lump in his throat, brushing a kiss into Cory’s hair. “That’d be cool, huh?”

Cory babbles something Keith can’t understand. A sticky hand comes up to pat Keith on the cheek, making him smile despite the sting of his eyes. “Daddy, caw. Birdie! Caw.”

Keith turns his head to press a kiss to Cory’s palm. He giggles. Keith wiggles his eyebrows, blowing a raspberry, just to make him laugh harder. The pain in his chest begins to loosen, ever so slightly.

He catches Lance’s gaze over Cory’s head, and takes the time to memorize his dark eyes all over again. Lance lets him. He always does, even though it makes him blush and fidget, lets Keith trace his thumb along his lash line and study the flecks of Earth brown and ash black in his eyes, of sun gold and deep amber; he likes Keith’s attention on him as much as he refuses to admit it.

That’s Lance, though. Tries with every inch of him to be cool and mysterious and suave and can’t manage to save his life. His twitchy enthusiasm sparks in everything he touches, no matter how hard he tries.

When he started digging through Keith’s collection of atlases and running around the house with stacks of blankets and sleeping bags and camping supplies, Keith had said, “Planning something, sweetheart?” and Lance had stuck out his tongue and responded, “Blah blah, nosy.” But Shiro had texted him to let him know that Lance had asked for Keith’s old photos, and one day Keith caught him with a bulletin board and dozens of pins of pictures of pine trees and booking receipts and dorky sticky notes until Lance screeched and kicked him out.

Lance is bad at secrets. And he is a dorky and kind weeper who loves to do anything but mind his own business and muddle things up.

And Keith knew that all when he married him, and loved him for it then, too.

“Hey, mijo,” Lance suggests, “how would you like to sit on daddy’s shoulders so you can see the birdies better?”

Cory gasps, looking rapidly between his parents. He bounces excitedly in Keith’s lap, attempting his own cawing noises, pointing up at the nest.

Keith smiles wider, quickly swiping under his eyes before straightening. He shifts his hold on Cory and winks at his husband, who rolls his eyes in fond understanding, and then his tilts the boy back until he’s giggling, leaning in close until their noses are brushing.

“Munchkin,” he says, playfully nipping the tip of his nose, “you know how you can get even closer to the birds?”

Cory gasps. “How, Daddy, how?”

Lance chuckles. When Keith glances over at him, his smile is so wide it forces his eyes near shut. Keith’s chest aches, it aches so good, and the little Keith that lives in his chest holding himself tightly and swallowing past the perpetual lump in his throat is soothed and comforted and held lovingly. Something cracks and heals in his heart.

“Like this!” Keith shouts through all the emotions bubbling up all over him, and tosses his son in the air, careful not to go too high out of his reach.

Cory shrieks with laughter, tiny fingers scrabbling for purchase on Keith’s jacket on his way down. Keith hardly lets him settle before he’s tossing him up again, higher this time, laughter louder and squealing. The bird has long since flown away, disturbed by the sound, and probably every other animal within a thirty foot radius. But Keith can’t bring himself to care. The bugs can’t move far, and no doubt Cory will want to dig around for worms with his Papa like always. (Keith knows for a fact that Lance has three spades in his backpack and several see-through containers.)

For now, he has time to toss his son in the air. He has time to lean into the hand his husband slides into his back pocket. He has time to smell the pine trees, to think of his father, to feel the bounce of packed Earth under his feet.

To the tiny him that lives buried in his chest, he whispers, we made it, ace.

———

keith and cory in the forest

[allloudontheeasternfront]

Everything at Once Part 5

Dieter Hellstrom x Original Fem Character

Btw this is very short! (Part 6 will be up soon as well!!!)

Sorry that this is later and shittier than expected. I had some personal issues to take care of and I kind of straight up procrastinated lmao. Hopefully y'all like it :)))

Warnings: antisemitism, cursing, some implied angst and smut, Dieter is a sad boi, Hans is meanie lol. Again, I do not support Nazis in any shape or form. This is just for the Inglourious Basterds fandom stuff.

.

A few days past and Camille still hasn't heard from Dieter.

Did he forget about her?

Was he hurt?

Did he leave her?

Awful and heartwrenching thoughts clouded Camille's brain. She sat on her rocking chair with a book in her hand, and a self-crocheted blanket on her lap.

Fuck... she thought. Why do I keep thinking about him?

Her mind was flooded with the passion he shared the other night. What would happen if he kept going? Would he be nice?

Her mind then went to the emblems and symbols that scattered that man's uniform. What if he found out? What would he do?

The thought of what Nazis were capable of made her world stop.

Her throat went as dry as sand and tears prickled in her eyes.

Feeling worthless and hopeless, she curled herself in a ball on the chair and weeped.

Why does my first love have to my enemy? She thought.

Eventually the sun would set, people would sleep peacefully and the world would stop turning.

The same evening, Dieter was sat in his god forsaken Gestapo office, going over all the shitty personnel paperwork Hans has so gratefully gifted him.

Asshole.

The personnel paperwork included the Jews and Communists living in the arrondissement in the last ten years that Dieter needs to find and eventually arrest.

Angrily, Dieter flipped over one person's file so roughly it cut the middle of his thumb and index finger.

"Shittttt!" Dieter exclaimed putting the wound to his mouth.

His eyes fell to the paperwork.

The face seemed familiar.

Though in black and white, the long curly hair was a lighter shade, the skin pale, dark lips, light eyes...light doe eyes...

His mind panicked.

Riddled with anxiety, he looked at the person's name...

No.

It cant be.

Robichaux. Camille.

Age 21.

Hair- blonde

Eyes- blue

le septième, Paris.

Owner of Boulangerie François

Jew.

No communist allegations to date.

Father- in custody

Mother- deceased

Unknown family members - possible hiding/ deceased

Other information unavailable.

Dieter's heart was beating out of his chest at a rapid speed. If it was possible, his skin became paler. Nausea and anxiety filled his body.

His thin fingers traced the picture of the young baker... tears threatening to spill.

Stupid waitress...

A part of him wanted to prove himself to Landa. To prove he isnt some dickhead officer who is capable of being promoted. To prove he isnt some desk jockey.

But a very real part of him sunk heavily in his heart, wanted to hide Camille..to shield her from world. Make her safe.

He looked at the giant swatiska flag in the corner of the room. It mocked him. It displayed nothing but hatred and cowardness.

What can I do to protect her?

I am nothing but a uniform controlled by a pompous asshole.

Footsteps woke Dieter out of his saddened daydream. He stood up straight with his arm raised in a salute welcoming his higher up.

Landa...

"So...how is paperwork going along, Dieter old boy?" Hans asked smarmy. "Dont tell you fell asleep again?"

It was one time...

"Negative sir. The missing citizens have been traced." Dieter replied emotionless.

Hans walked over slowly to his desk and saw Camille's documents on full display. He picked it up and sighed.

"Our little baker girl, eh? Who knew he was a dirty jew? Her cafe was so clean." Hans said condescendingly.

Dieter tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

Hans looked at him dead in the face.

"Find her tomorrow."

"But Sir..."

"Do not undermine my authority Hellstrom. I gave you an order."

Dieter sighed...

"Do you understand?" The evil stone cold look on Hans's face was chilling.

"Ja, Standartenführer."

"Gut. Keep working. You're not off until you're done." Hand left the room.

Dieter collapsed in his chair with a loud sigh escaping his lips.

He took Camille's documents in his hands and scared at her face. Studying it.

"I'm sorry..."

He downed his glass of whiskey in one go.

He drifted off to the night were Camille was under him, completely submitted. Dirty thoughts clouded his brain space. Her quiet sighs, her soft skin below his fingers, her eyes looking into his...his uniform pants got tight all of a sudden.

He looked at the documents once more. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

What if I lie to Landa...everyone lies to the prick so why cant I?

A plan was now in progress for Hellstrom.

He folded up Camilles paper and secretly stuck them in this coat pocket. He grabbed the main "Jew" paper and found her name.

After rummaging through his drawers he found white ink. Carefully and surely erasing Camilles name until there was nothing but a clear white line above the black ink. He blew on the paper to dry for safe measurement. Dieter smiled at himself, feeling accomplished.

But a real feel of crippling guilt creeped in him...

To be continued...

@whore4waltz @rurivu @xoxocillian @fridaycanbesadsometimes @racheljo47 @whitechoc135 @officerh4t @blueberrypancakesworld @hanslandasstrudel @gentlemenashortviewbacktothepast

(Lemme know if u wanna be tagged.)

[bruciemilf]

Diana grows up learning the spirit of Themyscira lives in every Amazon. In whatever shape, in whatever form they come.

She's there for every clay forging. She blesses the adorable lump of clay, slowly starting to take shape of something close to a person.

She thinks of Mother's tapestries, the pictures in her books. Of Ares and Zeus, fathers of all fathers. And she thinks who needs Gods when you have sisters?

Sisters accept you and protect you. Sisters are your blood that walks and breaths and laughs. And Diana knows there's tribes that don't accept certain Amazons.

Just because you're born among them doesn't mean you belong.

But for her, it's different. "If they're on the island, they're one of ours. Amazons don't forget their own."

There's a man on the beach shore, with eyes full of sand.

Diana's more curiosity than woman. When her sisters poke at the strange figure with their feet, trying to wake him, or check for life, she simply turns him him to check.

He's young; Hair as darks as nightsky. His face is pale, almost pearly. It reminds her of moonlight, softly spilling down the ocean when it's completely dark.

Her hands wipe away salty water from long, elegant lashes, and looks for a heartbeat down his chest. There's a strange symbol on it. Diana's hands feel like ice.

The Bat makes a noise, a whine, too fragile for a man. But maybe he's more. " We must take him in."

" This is not a place for men."

" No. But it can be a place for brothers."

He's almost frail, wrapped in furs and skins and blankets. His whole body is tense, even in this state of vulnerability. As if he's burdened even in sleep.

But there's names whispered to Diana at night, when she changes sweat soaked shirts, when she tinkers with the belt laid next to him. " Jay. Timmy. Dick. Cass. Duke. Dami."

Perhaps they're his Gods. Or maybe something more important.

When the Bat wakes, he doesn't remember much of anything. He looks at Diana with such wounded eyes, like a beloved deer waiting to feed the tribe and be celebrated for her sacrifice.

The sisters avoid him. Mother knows telling Diana to stay in line would be useless. Besides, she might not be aware of it, but her gaze does soften when he shyly asks for something to read.

He doesn't speak much. Diana does, thought. " Jason, Cass, Dick," she tests the name. So very strange sounding, but comfortable in her tongue. " Are they your lovers?"

The Bat's eyes widened slightly. The mango she brought him fill up his cheeks, making his face round, and her chest warm. " ...No. I don't know what they are but, -- but they're in my heart. They're my loves."

A random flicker of hope passes through her chest.

"Maybe we could go look for them someday. Bring them here."

"Yes," he let's her hand fall in his. They're almost like hers, if not a big broader. Scarred and beaten and cracking. The labor of love. " Maybe we will."

♡♡♡

Jason's body is restless. It's been restless for a year, like a beast getting hunted. Hoping while dying. He's no stranger to that.

" Dick."

His brother's pure sunshine, usually. Or pretends to be. He's got no strength to act anymore. No more power. Gotham is missing its heart.

"I found him."

" Jay, you're upset. I know you are, but,--"

" Dick," He breaths, hard, lungs pumping adrenaline, " When Bruce dies, I'll feel it. I'll bleed all over Gotham again. He's alive. I know he is. And we're going after him."

Dick's voice collapses, in a rare, painful moment of truth. He's not Nightwing, or Batman, or Robin. He's Jason's big brother. He's a legacy of ruin. " You're not the only one who loved him."

"Maybe. But I'm the only one who'll find him. Even if I have to burn my path."

[thatlovinfeelin]

Where Do You Go? | four | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Your husband died in a training accident, unexpectedly. So what happens when you find yourself leaning on his best friend and wingman, Rooster Bradshaw?

Part One Part Two Part Three

You’re alone in bed one night when your phone rings. You fumble, trying to get around the mountain of pillows you put around you. It’s Rooster, calling you close to midnight. 

“Roos, are you okay?” You question. 

“Can I come over?” He asks quietly, almost heartbreakingly. 

“I-” You look down at yourself, no bra, wearing one of Kurtis’ old shirts and worn out gym shorts. But you couldn’t say no to him even if you tried. Because he sounded like he needed someone, “Yeah…Yeah you can come over.”

You push your sheets and blankets away and make your way into the dark living room. The pictures that used to hang in the hallway were now safely put in a photo album. The walls still remained bare, with nail holes everywhere. Part of you was surprised you hadn’t punched a hole in the wall. Some days that’s all you wanted to do. 

Day by day you were starting to learn to live with the pain though. Day by day it hurt a little less and a little less. The ache was still there, but not as pronounced. Though, part of you felt guilty for even trying to move on. Surely Kurtis would want you to move on with your life, but how could you find yourself starting to forget the little moments?

Sometimes you couldn’t even hear the sound of his voice anymore. You’d have to go digging in your camera roll to find a video of him just so you could hear his laugh again, which would cause you to burst straight into tears. 

The knock on your front door pulls you away from the bare walls. You don’t want to leave Bradley out in the dark cold. He looked rough, bags under his eyes, hair all a mess. You wondered when the last time he slept was. The sight of him made your heart ache.

“Oh, Roos,” You mumble, wrapping your arms around him. 

“I keep seeing it,” He whispers, voice cracking, “Every time I try to go to sleep, I just see it happen over and over again. It won’t stop.” 

Your heart then breaks as you lead him inside. His hand is clammy in yours, but he holds onto you so tightly. You squeeze his hand, trying to silently reassure him that he isn’t alone in this. He has been there day in and day out to support you throughout all of this, now it’s your turn to be there for him. 

“Come sit,” You said softly, dragging him into the living room and pushing him gently so he sits on the couch, “I’ll go make some tea. That always helps me.”

He does nothing but nod, gulping as he does. You aren’t sure how much good you can do for him, but you’re sure as hell going to try. He’s done too much for you not to try. You care too much for the man to not do anything to help him. Even if you have to hold him for a while until he can finally calm his mind, like he’s done for you so many times already. 

You heat up the water on the stove and grab the box of camomile tea out of the cupboard. You’ve gone through more boxes of this than you’d care to admit. But it always puts your mind at ease when you need it, or calms you enough to make you go to sleep. Right now, you hope it does both for Rooster. 

“Here,” You whisper, holding him the steaming mug, “Drink some of this. Should help.”

You settle in next to him, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and throwing it across your lap, snuggling into the cushions. He takes a slow sip of the tea and nearly hisses, not realizing how hot it was. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You swallow the lump in your throat. 

The last thing you want to do is hear about how your husband died. You feel like you know enough, more than you should probably. You know that his engines somehow failed and the canopy didn’t open properly upon ejection and the blunt force trauma killed him on impact. He didn’t feel anything as his body fell to the ground and his jet crashed somewhere behind him. But you weren’t sure if you could handle hearing about it from Rooster’s point of view, but you would try for him. If he needed to talk, you would do your best to be an ear for him, and a shoulder too if he needed it. 

“No,” he said quickly, “That’s the last thing I want to do.”

You nod and silence falls over the two of you once more. Your brain seems to be spinning, going around and around in circles. The silence almost hurts you. 

“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog,” You announce quietly, “It’s hard being here alone. We talked about getting one before… I think I want a big fat English Bulldog.”

“You always did like them,” He nods, “A dog would be good. Someone to keep you company.”

You smile sadly. The house is too quiet without another person here. The bed is too cold and empty, which is why you pile almost every pillow you own on it at night now. Just so you can feel like there’s someone, or at least something, else in the bed with you. You feel like it’s pathetic in a way. 

Sighing, you reach over and brush some of his hair from his forehead, “You know it’s not your fault, don’t you?”

You’ve never asked him. Nor have you ever insinuated that the accident was his fault. How could it be? The jet engine failed, no one could have expected it. Pre-flight check was normal, even the investigation showed that no one was at fault. Nothing could have prevented it. 

“I know,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks, still looking down at his mug, “I just-”

He stops, taking a deep breath before a long drink of the tea. He licks his lips, and shakes his head. Almost like he can’t finish the sentence, or maybe doesn’t want to. You feel like you’re walking on eggshells, and you wonder if he feels the same way. 

“You what, Roos? Talk to me,” You start rubbing his back, trying to coax him into saying something, or anything really. 

You can feel that he’s bottling it all up, and you know how that ends. In your case it’s always messy and sometimes bloody, it’s horrible and frightening. Nothing good comes from bottling something like this up, just waiting for it to burst. 

“I feel like I should’ve been able to stop it,” He sighs, finally finishing his thought, “I know there’s nothing I could have done….but I feel like there should have been something…anything.”

You wrap your arms around him. Your heart breaks open again when he makes a sort of wounded sound, “Roos, there’s nothing you could have done. No one could have stopped it.”

“You lost your husband that day,” he mumbled, “And no one could have done a damned thing to keep him safe. I’m his wingman, I was supposed to have his back up there. My job was to bring him back down to you.”

Tears well in your eyes, “You did do that, Rooster, you did that so many times. I know there are missions that he wouldn’t have made it home from without you. Please, god, please don’t blame yourself for any of this.”

“Aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I am,” you reply almost instantly, “But being angry isn’t going to help anyone. He wouldn’t want us to stay like that.”

“He’d be cracking jokes about it,” Rooster laughs dryly, “So many fucking jokes.”

“You’re right,” You have the same kind of dry, breathless laugh, “He was good at jokes.”

“He always had us laughing up in the air,” He told you, “Always kept things light, even when we were getting ready to do something dangerous. He’d crack some kind of joke as we were loading up and have me nearly pissing myself because I’d be laughing so hard.”

“Sounds like Kurt.”

Tears prick your eyes. Rooster’s eyes are closed, his head hung low. You can feel the pain radiating off of him in waves. You want nothing more than to take away all of his pain. You’d take it on as your own if you could, for him you would endure it, just so he wouldn’t have to.

Something comes over you, so strange in nature. All you want to do is comfort him and make him forget. You want to forget too. Forget about missing your husband, forget about the emptiness and the ache you constantly feel. You want to forget about all of it. 

“Roos?”

“Yeah?” He picks his head up, finally opening his eyes to look at you. 

There’s something in his eyes, deep and hazel and shimmering. You swallow, feeling something twist in your gut. If you didn’t know any better, you would swear it was attraction and want swirling around. But it was too soon for something like that, right? Surely this was some sort of trauma reaction. 

You shake your head, trying to clear it of those thoughts. You couldn’t have feelings towards Rooster. Out of anyone, he had to be off limits. He was your husband’s best man. Surely you’d go to hell just for thinking of him in that way. 

Yet, something about the way he was looking at you made you want to lean in and kiss him. Would he taste like the tea or something else? Would his lips be as soft as they looked? Or would they be rough under yours? 

“Stop looking at me like that,” He quietly pleads.

“Like what?” You question, furrowing your brows. 

“Like you want to do something you’d regret,” He replies, eyes dropping to your lips for a moment, “Something we’d both regret.”

“Roos-”

“I can’t,” He whispers, setting down his mug on the coffee table.

Your hand is still in his hair. For some reason you can’t bring yourself to remove it. His hair is soft and fluffy, the curls all messed up from his attempt at sleep earlier in the night. You want to tell him that you don’t care, that you just want to know what it’s like with him. You never looked at him this way before, but that’s because you always had someone else to focus on. But it feels like you’re seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” You whisper, fingers running through his hair.

His hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking your cheekbone, “I don’t want to be someone you’ll regret in the morning.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think you could ever be someone I’d regret. If nothing else, just sleep next to me, please?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, “Sweetheart-”

“Please,” You beg, “Just for tonight. I can’t sleep in an empty bed. Please Bradley.”

The sound of his first name makes him break. Any resolve he has is suddenly gone. You look like you’re close to tears again and he can’t be the one to make you cry. He’s the one that’s supposed to stop you from crying, not cause you to. So he stands, holding out his hand for you to take. 

“C’mon then,” His voice is so soft it fills you with a strange sense of warmth, “Let’s get you in bed. It’s late.”

You nod and let him pull you up. He leads the way to the bedroom this time, now knowing the way a little too well. He doesn’t say anything about your mountain of pillows taking up the other side of the bed. You feel as if he somehow understands why they’re there, and won’t mention it at all. 

Instead, he slowly pulls each of them off of the bed and peels back the covers before pointing to your side, “Get in.”

“What, are you going to tuck me in?” You half joke.

“Yes,” He replied, “Always made me feel better as a kid. Now get in.”

Your chest feels warm as you climb into the bed and settle in. He smiled softly at you, watching as you wiggle around for a moment before finally getting comfortable. He brings the covers up to your chin, tucking you in a little before climbing into the bed next to you. 

“Can you hold me?” You ask him, “Just for a little while?”

He nods before his arms pull you close to him. You have to fight the urge to sigh contently. Being held feels so good after all of these months. You didn’t know you could miss such a simple action so much. But you did. You missed being held and being kissed. You missed the lazy mornings with someone next to you. You missed Kurtis, more than you could ever explain, but you missed the little moments that you shared with another human being just as much. 

“Try to sleep,” He whispered to you, “I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you.”

He hums, tucking your head under his chin. The warmth is still prevalent in your chest, begging for you to do something to let it out. But all you can do is just lay there as he holds you and makes you feel more like a human being than you have in four months.

[link-eats-rocks]

Their Stay in Rito Village

~

Part of a series of oneshots I'm doing taking place shortly after BotW of Link and Zelda figuring out their new relationship. I'm writing them out of order so blanks will be filled in over time.

~

Deep down, Zelda knew she wouldn't last five minutes.

Laying down in her deliciously comfy down-Rito bed, high, high up in the mountains, she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She looked around the room, trying to ground herself even while shadows started to reach for her like hands, ready to steal her into nightmares.

Pretty curtains billowed around the ornate woodworking of the rounded walls. The place was well-lit with torches. There was nothing scary about her room or the cozy village surrounding.

The Rito were so kind to her. She'd received a hero's welcome, which she felt undeserving of.

But she'd been glad to see how happy their festivities made Link. There'd been dozens of savory dishes, cakes, and drinks. Music was played. Baby Ritos sang.

She again pictured the big smile on Link's face as he'd watched the performance, his cheeks full of rice ball and his face flushed from the bonfire.

Tears burned Zelda's eyes as she felt her solitude sharply. It was time to stop pretending there was any chance of her sleeping alone.

She shot out of bed, taking the large, red blanket from it and wrapping it around herself. She rushed up the stairs from her room and along the boardwalk a story up to Link's room.

Her bare feet were numb by the time she reached the threshold of his bedroom, which looked very similar to hers.

She felt like a child, wrapped in her blanket, underdressed in a short nightgown, and teary-eyed. "Link?" she said, quiet enough that it shouldn't wake him if he was asleep.

"Mm? Zel?" came his voice immediately.

She sighed a breath of relief. "May I come in?"

"'Course."

She rushed inside the small, round room with a large bed in the center. His blanket was blue; that seemed to be the only difference. He'd put out most of the torches too, so his room was dark.

Strangely, he was on the left side of the bed, even though he was alone and could've spread out in the middle for once. She puttered to the other side of the bed—her usual side.

He turned to face her. "Sleeping here?"

He didn't even make her ask.

Her lip pouted out and she nodded.

He exhaled a laugh at her childish reaction. The way he reached over and folded back the blanket on her side of the bed sent her heart racing.

"Is it warm enough? We can use my blanket too. Or not."

"It's cold," Link whispered. "Let's use both."

She slipped the blanket from her shoulders and saw Link's gaze dart sharply away from her. Maybe Link staring would be flattering, but Zelda got a thrill whenever Link shyly looked away from her figure.

She cast the blanket across the bed and climbed in.

Zelda shivered violently as she sunk into the blankets, feeling just how cold she'd gotten only once she was being reheated.

Link laughed. "Were you freezing to death all by yourself?"

Zelda's teeth chattered and she nodded pathetically. "Help," she chirped, shuffling forward to fall into Link's arms.

"Eugh!" He flinched and threw his hands up and away from her.

"Li~ink!" She wiggled towards him, closing the distance.

The bare skin of his arms and chest soothed her achingly cold hands.

Link shot upright with a squeal and picked up his pillow. He herded her backwards with it, rolling her back to her side of the bed. He was giggling but actually seemed annoyed. "Get on your side of the bed. Don't touch me until you've defrosted."

She grinned, weak and easy to push away since she was shivering so badly. "You're heartless."

"You are. You came here just to put your little icesickle hands on me."

She fought the pillow, reaching past it as much as she could with him continuously regaining ground.

Before she knew it, Link was sitting up, leaning over her. He pinned her to her sides with the pillow across her chest.

She couldn't move her arms and she was too exhausted to fight him anyway. "Fine," she said between ragged breaths. "Let me die."

"It's kill or be killed," he replied, smiling down at her, wild eyed.

In the same moment, they seemed to realize their position. Zelda's cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, helpless under his firm grip on her arms.

His eyes filled with panic but he didn't move a muscle.

She didn't know whether he would lean down and close the distance, or apologize and avoid eye-contact for a week. Zelda was scared of both outcomes, although one was better than the other.

Then, inspiration struck.

Zelda gave him a big, innocent smile and bent her knee, raising it to his leg.

He shrieked and flew back to his side of the bed as she started kicking him.

She threw his pillow aside and threw a hand across him while she continued kicking him with her freezing little feet like daggers.

"Hyaaauuuugh," he tried to pull away from her but she moved with him, now with an iron grip. "I quit. I quit, I quit, I quit." He rolled back onto his back, shivered, and sighed in defeated.

"What do you quit?" she murmured with her chin on his shoulder, emboldened by her control over the situation.

"Knighthood."

She dropped her head, laughing. "That's not how it works. You are burdened by destiny, remember?"

He turned his head and looked in her eyes. "So cruel." He raised his brows and pouted.

Her smile faded. It wasn't fair how he could turn the tables so effortlessly. Her heart was racing again.

They leaned forward at the same time, closed their eyes in perfect unison, and brushed their lips softly against the others', both with a breath of nervous hesitation.

Zelda's hand curled into a fist on Link's chest as she fell into his kiss. Her whole body was warm now. He traced a hand across her face as he pressed soft kiss after kiss on her lips. Zelda was eager to deepen the kiss but Link lowered his head, his lips falling from hers and pulling down her lower lip.

She flattened her hand to his chest and felt the pounding of his heart. She was confused at why he stopped before anything had even started but she tried hard not to be hurt by it.

He exhaled a trembling breath.

"I'm not cold anymore," Zelda whispered.

He swallowed and shook his head. "Neither am I."

"Good."

Link looked down between them and furrowed his brow. He tugged the side of her pillow from under her head enough for him to share it.

They still laid face to face, noses nearly touching.

"I suppose we'll have to talk about that," she said in a low voice.

Link averted his eyes, a subtle smile on his face. "We didn't the other two times."

She socked his arm and he giggled. "Go to sleep."

"Okay."

"So immature, I swear."

"Am I? Then do you have something you'd like to say?"

That brat. "I said to go to sleep."

"I don't have enough pillow."

Zelda scooted up slightly, wondering where she was finding all of this courage. Maybe it wasn't courage; just desperation.

She raised her chin and placed her hand on the back of his head, pulling him down to rest on her shoulder. She'd hold him tonight instead of the other way around. He snuggled up as she put an arm around him and kept her other hand on his head.

As Link grew heavier and heavier against her, she began combing her fingers through that silky honey-blond hair. Link hummed happily and nuzzled against her chest.

"Sweet dreams," Zelda whispered.

"Sweedreamzel."

She felt him smile against her and she nearly broke a sweat from the stifling heat.

[joonipertree]

Kaladin x reader!

Modern Day!AU, Kaladin is a veteran in this but it isnt that explored, sunshine x moonshine couple. For the two (2) people who wanted this @huntsphury @yujichoso

A sleek black cat with oak brown eyes clambers on top of Kaladin as he naps on his couch, dark long hair strewn across the throw pillow that you added for a decorative touch. It was comfy, plush and soft enough to leave his defenses down. Thus, the cat's able to jump him and knead into his stomach. If Kal had been awake, the cat wouldn’t have gotten as lucky. But it did mean that Kaladin had woken up, eyes squinting open as his hand automatically patted Syl’s head. 

His body was stiff, back aching and bones weary, skin not settled in just yet with drool dripping from the side of his mouth. When he looked down, he noticed a blanket gently draped over him and it made his heart squeeze. An act of kindness for an asshole like him? What a treat. He didn’t have to wonder who it was, Syl had no opposable thumbs and if anyone broke in, Kal would’ve killed them by now. 

So he got up, let Syl trot off with a huffy look. Kaladin scratched his stomach as he tried to catch sight of his partner who had strictly decided a while back that they were angry at him. Not that it was unjustified, just that you had contradicted yourself in the span of one night. 

Kaladin dragged his feet against the wooden floor towards the only bedroom in the apartment- the one the two of you shared. Kaladin glanced outside at the potted plants out on the balcony, a space not wide enough for a lot to be done but the two of you had spent plenty of nights sitting there, huddled together while the city quietened down to a car passing by. You'd just murmur to him about your fears and he would intertwine your fingers with his. On some nights, there was laughter that echoed back from the concrete.

Kaladin passed by the kitchen, an open space with colourful and chipped mugs and plates, mismatched cutlery and a fridge that held week old reminders with magnets and a picture of the two of you together. It was from a polaroid camera, the two of you having just been to your third date four years prior. You held a toothy grin, arm as high above as you can go with Kaladin lowering himself to fit beside you, staring up with dark eyes and a perpetual grimace. 

Kaladin smiled with his teeth when he remembered that day, he’d gotten done with practice where he’d fallen and busted his lip open. It was something he was used to but when he met you for coffee, your eyes were so full of panic and your hands were having a hard time deciding where to go. Kal had brushed it off, listened to you ramble and chide him because he liked the sound of your voice. By the end of it, you’d taken the very brave action to kiss him square on the lips, making sure you didn’t touch the injury but doing so as a form of ‘get better’. 

The two of you had kissed a couple of times before but you still turned red and apologised but he didn’t have any of it, kissing you back as gently as he could so that you didn’t have to taste the wound. In the picture, the lip still looked fucked but in Kaladin’s head it had healed that day. 

Kaladin walked into the room, staring at the lump that lay in the far right of your bed, illuminated by the lines of streetlight that came through the blinds. He watched your steady breathing, hyper aware that there was life in you. And you were, as you should be. So with his mental checklist ticked off in his head, a list that he kept tabs on less and less as time went on, he took off his shirt and laid down on the bed.

The movement disrupted you enough that you scooted closer to him, finding his warmth despite the night breeze being a bit too humid. Kaladin opened his arms, placing his chin over your shoulder and letting you meld into his body. There was a flutter of your eyelashes on his shoulder as you opened your eyes and then an intake of breath when you realised what you were doing. 

You were supposed to be mad at him. 

And you were.

The second his rough calloused hand placed itself on the small of your back, you decided that your body wouldn’t let you make the mistake of moving away from him. So you breathed him in and let yourself relax, not really expecting anything else to happen.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away.” His low voice was gravelly from lack of use. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I was feeling. I’m sorry I raised my voice at you.”

Silence, for a beat then another. Before you opened your mouth, and spoke with a croaky voice hoarse from crying, “I don’t like it when you yell at me.” 

Kaladin’s grip tightened around you, pulling you deep into him and burrowing his face into your neck. “I know baby, I’m sorry.”

You wrapped your arms around him, snuggling in to let him know that it was okay, ensuring that sentiment with kisses along his shoulder. And Kaladin withered in your hold, feeling loved unconditionally. ‘Unconditional’ was a type of love that he never wanted to subject himself to, feeling broken and too fucked up to deserve something like that. He always had to prove to himself that he should be loved but you did so without a chance for him to justify it. Your kindness seeped into his skin and overflowed from his eyes. 

Pretty soon you were on your back and he was above you, hardened lines visible in the dim room setting. They smoothened the second he saw your pretty eyes look up at him. Kaladin’s chapped lips met yours, calloused hands cradling your face as his hair cascaded down the sides. You felt safe like you always did, not a single fear in your heart as he nipped at your lower lip and massaged your sides so you could melt into a puddle. 

When Kaladin moved back, it was only an inch away, not wanting to be any further from his beloved. 

“I’ll make you some chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, okay baby?” He whispered, patting your head as you sighed and giggled at his words. Kaladin held onto the giggles and threaded it into his memories so that the next time he was upset, he knew what he was going to ruin if he ever fucked up. 

“I get mad at you and you suddenly think that pancakes are the best breakfast food in the world?” You booped his nose, feeling the little spark of brattiness ignite as the tension dissipated. 

“Hey, all I said was that having chocolate chip pancakes the majority of the mornings was not a good decision. Having it when I’ve fucked up seems to be the perfect excuse no?” Kaladin said, peppering in kisses between his words to hear that little giggle of yours more.

“Whatever, you little gremlin.” You gave him kisses as well, feeling your eyelids get heavier. 

Kaladin settled back into bed, pulling your body over his and letting you sink into his solid form. 

[tallseaweed]

Relinquish Your Burden: Chapter 3

Word Count: 3.1k

It was clear that winter had arrived in New York.

After picking out his fur cape, Thor made sure to button Love into her warm jacket and fur-lined boots. The two of them stood at the hatch of their ship, the wind swirling through their hair and snow catching in their eyelashes.

It had been many years since Thor had last been to the Midgardian metropolis. He hadn’t been keen on returning, but his ship picked up on a distress signal about a mid-level invasion, and he had sworn that the Earth was under his protection.

The city would always remind him of fighting against Loki and his—no, Thanos’s —army of Chitauri. It brought forth the ache of fighting his brother, whom at the time he had recently believed dead. Not that it would be the last time.

In retrospect, he could not help but realize that although that time had been painful, all the people he had loved and lost had still been alive.

His father. Odin had been the one who used dark energy to send him to Midgard with the objective of stopping Loki by any means necessary.

His mother. Before he departed, Frigga had imparted her own wishes to him: "Bring him home, Thor."

Loki. Initially, he had hoped that his brother could be reasoned with. He soon learned just how deep Loki’s resentment ran.

"Did you mourn?" Loki mocked.

"We all did. Our father-"

Loki cut him off with a finger. "Your father. He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?"

Thor had soon found himself somewhere between demanding and pleading.

"You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream! You come home."

His words almost seemed to get through to Loki, his eyes shining with emotion before he huffed out a humorless laugh. Schooling his features into indifference, his next words crumbled Thor's resolve.

"I don't have it."

After his initial inquiries about Jane’s whereabouts, Agent Coulson had told him that S.H.I.E.L.D. had moved her to Norway during the battle, effectively keeping her out of harm's way. Although it became a point of contention in their relationship, he had been relieved that she was safe.

A lump formed in Thor's throat. He should have spent more time with her while he still had the chance. The fresh grief from her loss was still so close to the surface. How precious and fleeting human lives were.

"I mean to rule them, as why should I not?"

"You think yourself above them."

"Well, yes," Loki replied.

"Then you miss the truth of ruling, Brother. A throne would suit you ill."

He had not always believed this of Loki. During his banishment on Earth—after Thor realized just how incompatible his temperament and desires actually were for a would-be king—he came to the realization that his brother had been better suited to the throne all along. He had been cunning where Thor was guileless, quick where Thor was clumsy. Loki never lost sight of the bigger picture, while Thor let any small or imagined slights lure him into tunnel vision.

Although he had not been on Asgard when their father told Loki his true heritage, it was painfully clear how much his little brother had been affected. What had their parents been thinking, not telling the two of them something so vital? It would not have been the family-splintering reveal that it had become if Odin and Frigga had not let their children believe that Frost Giants were heartless monsters. How could they allow that, while knowing full well that Loki was one?

In the end, it had taken Loki until the end of his shortened life to finally accept himself as he was.

"I, Loki, prince of Asgard…"

His gaze landed meaningfully on Thor. "Odinson…

The rightful king of Jotunheim…"

~

"Uncle Thor!"

Thor was jolted from his memories, hastily wiping a tear from his eye. Now was not the time to grieve the past. Sprawled out below their ship was a large snow-blanketed park crawling with the brown-shelled bodies of a band of Procyonites. According to the intel from the distress signal, the rogue group was working for themselves, and set on using New York's power grid to recharge their ship. If the human screams from down below were any indication, the Procyonites were not asking nicely.

"Alright Love, we've got to take these brown-shelled guys down to protect the nice humans. Are you up for that?" She nodded. "You take that group by the trees there, and I'll take the ones by the statue." He handed her Stormbreaker. “Just call for me if you need any help."

And just like that, they leaped off of their ship-turned-home and launched into the battle.

Thor felt himself relax. It was all so familiar, the adrenaline, the comforting swing of Mjolnir, the muscle memory kicking in. Fighting grounded him, for there was no room to think of the past or the future in the throes of battle.

Suddenly, a flash of green caught his eye. Loki must have just taken down an opponent—

He froze, his heart falling through his stomach. Loki was dead. For certain this time. He was imagining things since he had just been thinking of him. He tried to refocus on defending himself from the ire of his current Procyonite opponent, but the distraction had cost him. Just as he braced himself for the incoming blow, another burst of green light had the creature slumping to the ground.

Thor blinked.

Before him stood a blonde woman with a steely countenance. She appeared to be wearing some sort of battered imitation of Loki's Asgardian leathers. When they made eye contact, she just smirked and spun around to take down another opponent, this time with her machete.

Thor's body finally caught up with his racing thoughts, and he threw Mjolnir at the Procyonite, knocking it unconscious. Before the woman could get away, he reached out, catching her wrist.

"Who are you" he demanded, eyes flashing dangerously, "and how do you have my brother's magic."

She managed to twist her wrist out of his iron grip, but didn't move to get away. Placing her hands on her hips, she asked "What makes you think it's Loki's magic and not my own?"

Thor narrowed his eyes, and the ends of the woman's hair began to levitate from static electricity. "Because your whole getup is obviously modeled after his.” Pausing to take her in fully, he added, “Though you look more like some faded photocopy of him if anything."

The woman huffed and rolled her eyes. "That's exactly what he said." In the blink of an eye, Thor had her shoved against a tree." What did you just say?" Thunder boomed nearby.

She sighed, seemingly exasperated. "I've met your brother. Real charmer."

"Have care for how you speak of the dead," Thor growled menacingly.

Her face softened toward something akin to sympathy. "Your Loki may be dead, but the one I met isn't."

This sent Thor's mind reeling, but he managed to keep her pinned in place. "You speak as if you believe there to be more than one Loki of Asgard." 

At this, the corner of her mouth twitched. Eyes glinting, she asked, "Have you ever heard of the multiverse?"

---

Mobius's eyebrows rose at his unexpected company.

"Sylvie- what?"

"Where are we?" asked the young girl. She looked familiar, but Mobius was having a hard time remembering her name.

Thor looked down at her kindly before he glanced back up at Sylvie, eyes hardening. "I'm not sure, but this woman knows something about your Uncle Loki, and I intend to find out what."

Suddenly, Mobius remembered. She was Love, Thor's adopted daughter, Gorr's wish from the Altar of Eternity. As the TVA's former expert in the pursuit of dangerous Variants, he had carefully monitored Gorr's timeline and even brought in a handful of Gorr Variants. All of the dangerous ones had watched their daughter die in their arms.

"But Uncle Loki died, right?"

Sylvie cut in, directing her reply at Thor. "Your Loki died, yes. But in the multiverse, he was one of many."

"You expect me to believe that there are multiple versions of everyone just running about?"

Mobius laughed hollowly as Thor’s eyes snapped to him. "Back at the TVA, we called them Variants."

Sylvie's face hardened briefly at the term, but she recovered quickly. Before Thor had the chance to ask what the TVA was, she redirected the conversation. "Would it help if I proved to you that time travel is real?"

"Oh, I know it is, I've done it myself," Thor responded smugly. "You have to get into a time travel suit and get sucked into some sort of quantum portal. It's how we Avengers reversed Thanos's snap."

"Funnily enough, that's actually how our Loki" Mobius gestured to himself and Sylvie, "came to the TVA in the first place-"

Sylvie elbowed him in the arm and hissed "You're getting ahead of yourself, let me do the talking." He rolled his eyes but allowed her to continue. She looked back at Thor. "What if I told you that we just time traveled and you didn't even realize it?"

Thor scoffed. "I remember that particular sensation quite well, I assure you. I would have realized."

"Oh would you?" Sylvie smirked. "Then why are the three of us on live TV?" She gestured to the news broadcast. Sure enough, Thor, Love, and Sylvie were on screen, fighting the Procyonites in New York.

"Woah," breathed Love. Thor's eyes widened as he took it all in.

"The orange doorway we stepped through—was time travel?"

"'Fraid so," Mobius answered calmly. He was used to having to explain the TVA to the Variants he would interrogate. The reminder of the cruel orders that he'd blindly followed left a twinge of guilt in his chest.

"Alright, so how did you meet this Variant of my brother? You said it had to do with the Avengers time traveling?"

Sylvie nodded at Mobius, and he sighed. "Alright, everyone have a seat. I'll start from the beginning."

~

"Wait, you were the fugitive Loki Variant?"

Sylvie spread her arms wide. "In the flesh," she smarmed, "but if you ever call me Loki I'll make you regret it. I'm Sylvie now, have been for longer than you've been alive."

"So that's how you are able to wield Loki's magic!"

Sylvie glowered. "Like I said before, it's my magic. But yes, it's quite similar to Loki's."

Mobius continued telling the story, with interjections from Sylvie for the parts he hadn't been there for and the explanation of her motives for freeing the timeline. She seemed particularly tense and distant when recounting what happened in the Citadel, and Mobius didn't push her for details. All that she or Loki had said was that they'd fought, and she'd kicked him through a Time Door into the past so that she could kill He Who Remains. Even so, it was abundantly clear to Mobius that the two of them cared about each other.

"And then came the problem with the Temporal Loom," he sighed.

~

"Sylvie, are you gonna explain your plan now? Ya kinda left me hanging when you disappeared off on your little side trip to fight aliens in New York with Thor and Love."

On hearing his daughter's name, Thor instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The gesture was endearing, but Mobius knew he'd done it on instinct, uncomfortable that Mobius knew her name without an introduction. Talking to TVA agents tended to have that effect on people.

"Right," Sylvie replied. "Like we just said, Loki sacrificed any life he could have had to go hold the branches of time together, and with them, he created a multiversal Yggdrasil. I opened a Time Door to its location," she glanced apologetically toward Mobius, "and after seeing and feeling its power, I'm almost certain that Loki’s Yggdrasil can sustain itself, just like an actual tree. I think Loki was just the catalyst, and he should be able to leave."

Mobius's thoughts began racing. If Sylvie was right and Loki really was able to leave, why hadn't he come back? He couldn't possibly want to sit there isolated from everything, could he? Or worse, what if he had returned to one of the timelines but let them all believe that he was still there, holding the branches? After all they'd been through together, it seemed unlikely. Still, unease pooled in his gut.

From the second Loki had disappeared through that portal, the vast majority of Mobius's thoughts had centered around how to get him back without risking the timelines. He'd never even stopped to consider the possibility that Loki wouldn't come back if given the opportunity.

He’d at least thought Loki would be doing everything he could to get back to Sylvie. It seemed like the majority of the time Mobius had spent with him had involved chasing after her for one reason or another. He’d spent years convincing himself he wasn’t bitter about it. The two of them deserved to be happy together if given the chance.

Breaking the contemplative silence that had descended on the group, Mobius voiced some of his thoughts. "If he's able to come back, why hasn't he?"

"It matters not. If what you say is true, we cannot let him remain there." Thor said resolutely. "If there's a chance I could see him again…" He trailed off, eyes glazed with emotion and distant memories.

Mobius looked toward Sylvie for her reaction. She was fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Finally, she looked up. 

"I couldn't tell you why he hasn't come back, but I get the feeling it has to do with his mindset. Knowing Loki, he's probably convinced himself of something, and is too stubborn to see past it without someone calling bullshit."

Mobius nodded, and when he saw Thor doing the same he flashed the god a sad smile. Thor returned the gesture with a feeble one of his own. If anyone was as familiar with Loki's stubborn streak as Mobius, it was Thor. He'd spent years trying to convince Loki that his adoption and species didn't make him any less of an Odinson. It had taken Loki until his death on the Sacred Timeline to come around.

Love's small voice broke through the weight of emotions blanketing the room. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get him!"

The young girl's words spurred Thor into action. "Love is right, let us not waste any more time attempting to decipher Loki's motivations when we can go ask him ourselves." He stood up and summoned Mjolnir from the coffee table. Then he looked down at Love and shot a concerned glance toward Sylvie. "I swore to protect my daughter, and I do not wish to put her in any unforeseen danger." Love shot him an indignant glare. "Are you certain it's safe?"

Suddenly, Mobius remembered walking down the gangway with the Temporal Aura Extractor in the bulky TVA suit, terrified of losing his skin. The temporal radiation wasn't an issue now that the Loom was gone, but…

"Yeah, it's safe," Sylvie confirmed. "There's nothing there but the timelines and empty space."

"Uh guys," Mobius interjected. "I know you all have godly powers and physiology to keep you from immediately freezing into a popsicle when you're out in space, but my lack of powers and very human physiology won't do me any favors out there."

"Not to worry, I have space suits back on my ship, and you are welcome to use one," Thor responded easily. He looked pointedly at Sylvie. "Can you open one of those time travel doors to get us there?"

~

Back in New York, everyone boarded Thor's ship (which was still hovering above Central Park, right where they left it). Just before the hatch closed, Mobius caught a glimpse of Doctor Stephen Strange opening a cluster of portals to send the Procyonites and their uncharged ship somewhere far away.

Thor slid into the cockpit and took off, looking for a safe place to land. Love led Mobius and Sylvie to the collection of space suits, giving the pair an impromptu tour along the way.

"...And here are the space suits!" She explained happily while pointing at a compartment filled with sleek suits of varying bright colors. To Mobius's relief, they were nothing like the bulky temporal radiation suit at the TVA. "Uncle Thor insists on having them since he has mortal friends, including humans like Jane."

Mobius reached into the compartment, his fingers brushing against the green suit. Was that too on the nose?

When he looked up, Love was watching Mobius, her stormy blue eyes a little too assessing for comfort. "You love my Uncle Loki, don't you."

Mobius froze, his heart skipping a beat. "What?" He chuckled nervously, heat rising to his cheeks. He was intensely aware of Sylvie's gaze on him. "Of course I do, he's my friend."

Love tilted her head to the side. "Yeah, but it's more than that, right? Earlier, you were talking about Loki like Uncle Thor talks about Jane. It's different from how he talks about his dead friends and family."

Had this kid really figured out what Mobius had been repressing for years that easily?

"Sorry hun, but Loki and I are just friends."

He looked to Sylvie for backup, but she just flashed him a knowing look, the corner of her lip quirking slightly.

Chagrined, Mobius attempted to change the subject. "I'm gonna go check on Thor, see if I can help him find a landing spot." And with that, he grabbed the blue suit and headed toward the cockpit.

~

Within ten minutes they had found a grassy field in upstate New York to land and cloak the ship in. Mobius got into the suit and helmet, and Sylvie helped him with the gloves. After Mobius assured himself that there were no cracks or leaks, the four of them disembarked and stood around Sylvie's TemPad.

"Alright, I'm going to open a Time Door as close as I can get to the timelines. Once we're there, I'm going to try to use my magic to get us inside Loki's Yggdrasil. At the very least, that should get his attention." She paused, looking everyone in the eye. "Are we ready?"

Thor voiced his assent, and Mobius pushed all his anxious thoughts about Loki's motivations aside. He would find out the truth, and deal with the fallout later.

He took a deep breath. "We're ready."

-----

Notes:

Aaand we're back!!

I've been traveling with my family and didn't have access to my computer for over 3 weeks, but now that I'm back I'll be trying to update this story weekly :)

I hope you enjoyed Thor and Love's addition to the group! The reunion with Loki is FINALLY happening next chapter, so buckle up for all the feels ❤️

Side note: Procyonites are aliens from the Thor comics, described on Wikipedia as "a reptilian race with a large brown tortoise-like shell and brown scales, 6 feet 5 inches (1.96 m) in height on average."

taglist:

If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist at any point, please leave a comment or send me a message :)

@loopsisloops @muddyorbsblr @superficialdomina @infinitystoner @unlucky-number-13

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[cyb3rscoups]

The Glory Attoye AU

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, burn scars, blood Full collection

There will be a lot of parts to this because ‘The Glory’ is long in it self so 💁🏽‍♀️ If you want to he tagged in any future parts, lmk in comments

Pretty Woman Part 6 will also be dropping soon

Cold. Okoye realized quite fast that the cold would help with her wounds. She could remember the night she figured it out as if it had just happened.

It had been her 16th birthday. She had just received a lustful gaze from her homeroom teacher and a new 'gift' from her peers. It was well past night fall and the snowstorm had lasted for hours. Boston was covered in the soft white fluff.

She had gone up to the roof of her apartment complex right after her tears were dried and the lump in her throat allowed her to breathe again. There, she stood at the edge of the rusted bars, peering over and contemplating how hard she'd have to collide with the ground to end it all.

Then that damn itch. It was all over her body like a fire that could never be extinguished. She had knelt into the snow as she scratched at her arms, opening her wounds more than they had opportunity to heal.

A river streamed down her face as she wailed. Her tangled hair peppered in snowflakes as she drug her nails down her skin in agony. She remembered the scream she let loose as blood seeped into her jacket so much she had to tear it off and reveal herself to the winter air.

That's when the pain subsided. When the burning stopped. When all she felt was sweet relief as the snow stuck to her blood streaked skin, covering her burns with a soothing cold.

She smiled painfully as she began to tug what was left on her body off so that she could be revealed to the air and soothe the aches she couldn’t reach.

She cried as she coated the snow on her body and eventually laid in it, a blanket made of nerve numbing bliss.

There was where she made her vow. There is where she sealed her fate.

-----

Valentina De Fontaine. The cynical being had made a name for herself it seemed. A mere weather caster yet everyone in Boston watched her as she updated them on what to expect from mother nature.

The dull illumination of the television was the only light that sourced the apartment as Valentina's voice was the only one that filled it.

"Dizzy winds and a high of 53 will take over Boston tomorrow afternoon. As spring starts to take her place, temps will continue to rise.."

Okoye forced another sip of her dark coffee as she watched the woman recite her script. No doubt she paid someone to write it for her.

"This was Valentina De Fontaine and good morning Bo-" The screen went black and Okoye dropped the remote to the couch where it bounced beside her.

She set her mug down, quite harshly as her mouth filled with the bitter taste of vengeance.

“Bitch.” Was all she muttered once she removed herself from the couch and took her cup to the kitchen to let it sit.

Her hands twitched as her scars began their insufferable itch. Don’t scratch, she thought to herself as she forced her hands into tight fists at her side until the sensation stopped.

She focused her eyes on the walls, covering from the ceiling to the hardwood floor with pictures of her foes; going to work, posting on social media, smiling, crying. Living their lives as if they had not done such torturous acts in their existence.

Sometimes, when she got bored, Okoye would imagine that door clicking open and Valentina’s high heels clacking against the floor. She’d light a cigarette and scoff at the display.

“Wow.” She’d say with that smirk that clouded Okoye’s memories. “You really have done nothing with your pathetic little life have you, Ko Ko?”

That would be enough grounds to drive a knife to her throat and shut her up for good.

But until Okoye got that ample opportunity, she would continue to watch and plan the ruin of their lives; Erik, W’Kabi, Valentina, and everyone else they had dragged into their lives over the last 15 years.

Okoye grabbed her sweater from the arm of the couch, shrugging it onto her shoulders and trudging to her window.

She pulled a curtain back just enough to peek through and watch as a car pulled into the driveway across the street.

"Back already?" She mumbled, watching as Valentina stepped out of the car and scolded her driver for being too harsh on the brakes.

Her hands flailed about and her voice only grew in volume at the poor man.

"As useless as you are?! Why the fuck do I waste my time with you huh?! Get the fuck out! Get out!"

Okoye's feet moved before she could properly think and backed away from the curtain as her hands went to her arms subconsciously. She remembered that voice too well.

That voice marked her brain with degrading words and threats. That voice ordered her around like a dog on a leash. That voice got her hurt, got her burned. She would never forget that voice. It was the cause of her pain.

The itch was back and she couldn’t resist it this time, going to her arms to rub harshly and drag the fabric against the welted skin.

Hurriedly, she went to the freezer and picked out two of her many ice packs. She whipped her sweater back off and pressed the ice packs to her arms, letting them work their magic as she sighed in blissful relief. With a groan and her back pressed to the wall, she slid down til she sat on the cool hardwood.

She couldn’t lose it now that she was so close. It was only a matter of time and a perfect moment now. Her eyes were fluttering closed before she knew it and she allowed herself the small mercy that was sleep.

------

"Look at this asshole."

"Should we tell the director?"

"Do you like your life?"

"Y-yes."

"Then keep it off the books and get this big idiot hooked to an IV."

Namora huffed once the nurse was out of sight. With a roll of her eyes, she sent a punch to his stomach and Attuma jolted up with a grunt.

"Ohhh you bitch." He coughed as he held his stomach and hunched over the side of the bed. "Get over here. I want my hit back."

"What the hell did I say about the fights?" Namora smacked his arm with her clipboard.

"What am I supposed to do with my free time then?" He sucked his teeth, wiping a bit of blood from his cheek with a scowl.

"Read a fucking book or something! Just quit going to those underground clubs before you really meet your match."

Attuma laughed at that, loud and from his aching stomach. "Like any one could beat me these days."

"Attuma seriously. I can't keep giving you treatment and not putting the records in. I'll get fired and Namor will be on you like white on rice."

"Fine, alright. I'll take it easy. Can I go?" He didn't wait for her response, already bending over to grab his bag and jacket.

"Hell no. You have a concussion." Namora took the bag back from him and sat it to the ground.

"From what?"

"Hmm I don't know probably the chair to your empty ass brain!" She smacked him with the clipboard again as he laid back in the bed.

“How bad?”

“If you leave now, you won’t make it to the parking lot.”

“Oh for fuck sake!” Attuma exclaimed with a flail of his arms.

“Yeah. Get comfortable or I’ll tell your brother.”

Attuma shivered at that, taking opportunity to relax into the bed as a pounding headache suddenly hit him. “You know he’s not the boss of me right?”

“Well he’s literally the boss of me so relax, Attuma.”

“I’m relaxing. Fucking hell.” He closed his eyes with an agitated huff as his head continued its painful thrum.

Namora shook her head as the nurse brought back a bag of fluids and hooked it up to Attuma’s arm, riddled with bruises and scars.

The rush of adrenaline eased out of his body and his heart rate steadied as he started to drift off to sleep.

“Hey.” He mumbled before Namora took her leave.

“What?”

“Get that nurse’s number for me.”

“I will knock you out right here and no one will ever know.”

@xblackreader @loeysaeri @hottie-hotch

[karisomk]

Drawn to you Ch. 3 teaser

Dark or Yandere Attuma x Okoye Attuma finally gets rid of W'Kabi though it is not the way he pictured happening. With of course a little bit of help.

Content warning: Blood. Body disposal. He reached for her, pressing a warm hand to her thigh caressing it through the light sheet only to stop when she shifted in her sleep. Attuma got to his feet, picking up his phone from the lamp stead while leaving the room quietly. Dialing a number, Attuma stayed quiet listening to shuffling on the over the side of the receiver. “It’s late.” Namora’s voice was groggy, not bothering to say hello and hoped the call was an accident. Though she sat up in her bed already trying to force herself awake. Attuma never called for anything, so to see his name on her phone so late it had to be something. ‘Yeah, I know.” There was a moment of silence before Attuma continued. “But there has been an issue I had to take care of. And I may need your help now.” Attuma admitted. He heard Namora shuffling more over the phone, cutting her off before she could even bombard him with questions. He gave her Okoye’s address to meet him here. Attuma was dressed in a long sleeve black shirt with black trousers. Black latex gloves fitting his large hands in a snug like fashion.  His wet hair tied up in a bun, moving quickly around the house grabbing cleaning supplies and bags. The vibration of his phone broke his concentration with an arm full of items, he read Namora’s text quickly telling him to open the door. Attuma held the door open for Namora who glared at him in passing glance. Exhaustion showed in her eyes, though she was dressed similarly like Attuma. Black leather jacket fashioned with dark blue jeans with black heels. W’Kabi’s covered body was not hard to miss, the large lump underneath the pile of blankets looked ridiculous even if the stain of dried blood could be seen. “Are you fucking serious right now, Attuma?” “Namora, can you atleast keep your voice down.” Attuma keeps his features neutral, no matter how much scolding he would take by Namora or even Namor would make him sway. Okoye was more than he could describe with mere words. Namora shot a glowering look in response to which Attuma simply sighed,”Okoye is asleep upstairs and I am not trying to add to the unfortunate impression her ex-husband left on her. Attuma didn’t buckle underneath Namora’s gaze though simply nodded in the direction of W’Kabi’s body. Namora already knew who was underneath there though part of her hoped that maybe Attuma didn’t kill the Border Tribe businessman that approved their deals with Wakanda. That just maybe that Attuma wasn’t possibly seeing this man’s wife as well. She hoped it was someone else or someone that wasn’t important. Moving passed him, she slowly kneeled by the body pulling the blankets back to peek only to throw it back in place. “I fucking should of known when Namor remarked that you seemed to like Wakanda more because you were staying here. And I specifically recall that wasn’t your attitude towards this place in the beginning-.” she snapped. “Are you done?” “Fuck no, you should hear this since Aj K'uk'ulkan believed you were ready beyond just being juntúul ku taasik u kíimile'-” (One that brings death.) “Okoye has been the one this entire time that has been the voice in most, if not all partnerships not-... him” Attuma’s tone had become snappy, normally he allowed Namora to lecture him and he always followed in tow of her words. But at that moment, his patience was already thin and time was becoming more of an issue the longer W’Kabi stayed in that house. “Namora, I made my choice, it is just the way this happened was not only my fault but his too. “ Namora’s gaze fell back onto the stained portion of the blanket, “Does she love the way you love her?” “Yes, she does.” Attuma stated breathlessly. Their getaway togethers were always timeless, yet felt so natural as if they were truly married already. Bright smiles that graced her lips that met her eyes. He wanted that reality but not just in the shadows, he knew that she wanted too but barriers of traditions. 

“And yet you mentioned how you don’t want her to hear us. Did she see you do this?” Attuma couldn’t find his voice, that pain look that flashed in his mind merely made him nod in response. His brows knitted lightly, trying to shake off that memory. “You are the reason why I still keep lime and shovel. And even tarps in my car.” she muttered. “Go back your car into the garage and look for a bag in my trunk by my spare tire. And matter of fact you’ll be on brain duty while I put the tarp in your car. “ Namora pointed at him, taking the supplies he had out of Attuma’s arms. “Thanks Ora.” Namora gave a disgruntled noise in response, mumbling to herself how Attuma  was still a fucking idiot for this. Even her glare softened at the nickname he seemed to only pull out and use whenever she was truly upset. The two worked silently once Attuma did as Namora was instructed and popped the trunk for her,  he came back inside seeing that Namora took everything out W’Kabi’s pockets lining them on the floor. She is already taking the chip out of his phone for Attuma, jewelry already in the pile as well. A long practice that seemed second nature to her still, Attuma wasn’t the only one that held a hand with bringing death to protect their homeland. With ease Attuma rolled up the body and lifted him over his shoulder to carry him to the garage where the trunk of his car was open. Namora went to work cleaning the stains up quickly, gathering an empty bag to dispose of what she cleaned with. And tossing any of his personal items in another. She set aside a bag of knives for Attuma to take just incase. “Don’t throw away his phone or jewelry, I want to dispose of those myself” grunted out once he knew Namora was behind. “Stop being weird.” “How is it weird that I want to help dispose of his personal items?” Attuma scoffed watching Namora toss the bag full of stain cloths in the trunk. Namora studied Attuma for a long time, ultimately shoving the small bag into Attuma’s hands. In trade he gave her his phone to keep for a few hours.  “One more thing, if you can stop by and check on her for me, Ora. If I am taking too long and I won’t ask you anything else, I swear. “ Attuma gave hopeful eyes even if Namora gave him a deadpan expression in response. “Fine. But I will not cover you if K'uk'ulkan begins to ask questions about this and you. Where are you going now?” Attuma snapped the trunk close, giving a slight nod, “I don’t expect you too but thank you.  I’m heading to the sea.” “She keeps a spare key by the hollow out rock near the front door, just using it to lock up. I know I am working against the sun now.” Attuma said, reaching to pat shoulder in thanks for helping while he passed her. Namora watched Attuma drive off into the night, closing the garage before she too followed suit. She truly hoped Okoye was worth playing house with for so long only to make a drastic choice like this. Chacc had to be looking out for Attuma for the thunderstorm had simmered down enough, making the waters tolerable enough to take a boat ride through into the night. Attuma drove in silence, his mind whirling about the fact that Okoye was no longer married. And this would be the last time that either of them would have to see W’Kabi. He kept driving until near the borders that were close to Talokan’s border, using one of their own boats that had been their commute before arriving. Attuma gathered W’kab's items and his body to take down to the pier. Within minutes Attuma was already soaked while untying the boat and raising the anchor to get the boat out of port.

@pilesofpillows @mickimomo @xblackreader

[thewholecrew]

@headstrongblake​ said: [ smudge ] sender cleans lipstick off receiver's face / kass & o

     the first and most important get together she had once she’d successfully moved into her apartment was a girls night, a sleepover in her living room with octavia, liv, willow and alec (who didn’t mind being lumped in as one of the girls). she’d planned the whole night with the help of alec who came over earlier to set up everything. turning the couch into a pullout bed which was decorated in all her blankets and pillows, helped set up the snacks and even offered to make them dinner but kassy decided to just order for the group of them. she’d let them all agree on what to get and was more than happy when they all just agreed to pizza. 

     now they sat paired off somewhat around the living room, make up scattered around the bed and floor with legally blonde playing in the background. it was a classic and after they’d finish watching that it was octavia’s turn to choose a movie. kassy sat with her legs crossed in front of octavia as she had her best friend close her eyes while she finished her eye make up. deep greens that blended into a sharp black pointed eyeliner which had the green of her eyes pop! but now it was time to decide what lipstick to choose. “hmmm.... see i’m debating between like maybe a glossy rich brown..... or.... do we think just a regular gloss would look better?” she tapped the lipstick tube to her own lips as the other girls (and alec) crowded around to decide. 

     “let me pull up some inspo online!” willow exclaimed as she scrolled through her phone, the thing massive in her tiny hands but it was mostly the giant case that was in the shape of a pink teddy bear. “hmmm... oohhh, there’s also a soft rose colour look.... or do you have a dark green lipstick?” she asked and kassy laughed, “oh honey i’ve got everything you can possibly imagine -- except for foundation to match your colour,” she pointed out with a lazy grin. that, the girls had to bring their own of. “let’s try..... the rose one first, start with light then go dark... what do you think?” she asked octavia who was simply just resting her chin where kassy cupped her face as she examined her. 

     with o game for trying any and everything, kassy grinned, first starting with the rose colour, “pucker up buttercup,” she teased before delicately putting on the lipstick. once it was finished she carefully wiped a small bit from just under octavia’s lip then it was perfect. “there, alright ladies what do we think?” they all agreed she was gorgeous, there was no doubting that but, “maybe try the dark brown?” alec asked a little hesitantly before the others agreed. “yeah i’m thinking this is a good soft look but baby we want to take pictures so smokin’ you’ll have every boy drooling over you.”

     with the makeup removing wipe she again carefully wiped it off octavia’s lips, “girl you have some nice ass lips, so soft,” she complimented as her thumb brushed over them to make sure they were clean of the last lipstick. “alright, the brown!” she said, holding her hand out as liv placed it into her hand, the girls all giggling as she then got back to work. this one was definitely more of a gloss, the matte colour looking too dry. leaning back, the exclaimation from the girls and alec were much more enthusiastic, “omg octavia you’re so hot!” willow squealed as alec and liv nodded in agreement. “muuuch better, so much more seductive,” kassy purred as she released o’s chin. 

     “now, you can take pictures of us of course but we’re taking some of you first. now... go try on that outfit you were eyeing in my closet and lets take some steamy ones that’ll make a certain someone regret being such a damn idiot.” as octavia hopped off the bed kassy couldn’t help give her a playful swat to her butt as willow clapped her hands excitedly. with a hand cupped to her lips kassy then called out to her, “you’re a stunner, bitch! and don’t you forget it!”

[myriad-ofmuses]

@thetraumazone

“Cal? Are you home?”

Stepping through the entranceway into the uncharacteristically dark home, she let the door close and imprint-lock behind her, shivering a little from the chill as she stepped carefully through the dark, a mental picture of the layout thankfully enough to keep her from tripping over any of the furniture, her tail sweeping along the floor as a secondary failsafe from anything unexpected that may invade her path forward.

It was strange.. seemed all the lights were out, but his vehicle was parked outside, so.. he had to be here, right? It wasn’t that late at night..

Eyelights glowing in the dark, she made her way to the living room where there seemed to be a faint light casting shadows across the wall, discovering it to be the tv - and the culprit she sought, a sprawled out lump of blanket on the couch, face mostly covered by fabric, but the light snores gave him away.

She rolled her eyes but smiled a little, then spying the assorted take-out containers that littered the coffee table and had fallen onto the floor from the askew pile, heaving a soft sigh.

“Well.. can’t kick your butt for not resting up. But this? Might be next on the list.”

With a mutter to herself, she let her mini-pack straps slip from her shoulders, lightly tossing her belongings onto the adjoining easy chair, and set about gathering the empty containers while the exhausted officer slept on, carrying them into the kitchen and filling the refuse chute to be shot off for recycling, having to take two trips to collect them all.

With that done, she took the opportunity to go on a scavenger hunt for the strewn about clothing she’d visually marked while she’d been de-cluttering the living room, gathering up uniforms and casual clothes alike, and hefting it into the laundry room to start a load to be washed.

As she worked, more worry crept up from her heart - it was very unlike Callisto to be so slovenly, normally she was the one being chastised for her untidy habits, not that she was too much of a slacker, but he was.. fastidious, to say the least, the times her lazy streak shone, he could get impatient.

This all feels.. so wrong..

She supposed she was glad that she hadn’t warned him ahead of time that she was headed back, or he never would have let her see this - just how off things had gotten in her absence. 

More reason that her being gone so long had been a mistake..?

With the house picked up and the clothes washing, she returned to the living room, glancing over to her dozing roommate with a slight puff to her cheekbones, tail whipping across the floor.

Crossing over to the couch, she dropped herself down onto the cushions, impatience and conflict read in her every motion. She knew she should let him sleep - probably.. but then, if this was depression at work and not just tire, then.. it was better to wake him, wasn’t it? But then.. she really had no way of knowing..

Growling a little in her mental quandary, she just decided to let her own impulses guide her, hunkering down on sleevies and knees - and with a wriggle of raised rear and readying tail quiver, she pounced up onto his chest, seating herself and pawing at his blanket-covered face with a sleeve.

If this didn’t wake him.. she’d chalk it up to an exhausted sleep.

“Calllli.. Wakey, wakey sleepyhead.~”

[thierrydupont]

( nov 23rd - the dupont family home )

I wear this crown of thorns Upon my liar's chair Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair

The attic of his parent’s house held more memories than Thierry could count. Boxes upon boxes held meaningful items and pictures that had been passed down through the Dupont family. Before he lost Olivia, the cop had no reason to feel any kind of negative emotion towards that single room in his family home. Now, Thierry was utterly terrified by the haven of memories. Some of his daughter’s belongings resided in that attic. When he moved to Providence Peak, Thierry had left behind any trace of Olivia. All he brought with him was a picture of his daughter that he kept safely hidden in his bedroom closet. Everything else stayed behind to collect dust in the attic of his parent’s home. He had never been proud of that. It was selfishly easier on him to not have the belongings with him.

When his mother had asked Thierry to grab some Christmas decorations from the attic his heart froze up in a sheer panic. He had no logical excuse to make up for why he couldn't do the simple task that was asked of him. All the poor soul could do was smile and nod at the dear woman he loved. He walked up the steps to the second floor of the house, fists clenching up tight as he looked up to see the thick string hanging from the attic door. His lids closed, releasing a steady stream of collected breaths before reaching up to grab the string. The familiar creaking noise of the steps coming down sounded almost thunderous in his ears. His dark hues glanced upwards into the eerie darkness, slowly reaching out to make the climb up the wooden steps.

The scent of dust and cardboard boxes filled the air around him. Thierry reached over to switch on the light to the attic, squinting slightly as his eyes adjusted to the change of color to the room. He shuffled his way through the boxes and family belongings that had been tucked away for years, searching for his Mother’s Christmas decorations. Beads of sweat started to break out across his brow and his palms felt clammy to the touch. Thierry just wanted to find what he was looking for and get the hell out of there. He pushed his way to the back of the attic, spotting a box with Christmas lights spilling out of it. “Thank Christ.” The anxious male muttered under his breath, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Thierry scooped the box into his arms, noticing something that caused the cop to go frozen with fear. A red plastic bin with Olivia’s name scribbled across the top stared up at him. He roughly swallowed down the massive lump that swelled within his throat. The box in his hands fell to the floor. As if an imaginary hand was pushing him down, Thierry quickly dropped to his knees, despite the voice in his hand telling him not to. His fingers popped the lid off the bin, sucking in a soft breath as his daughter’s belongings met his misty-eyed gaze.

His hands reached inside to gently pick up the blanket she used to sleep with as a baby. He could vividly remember how precious his daughter used to look wrapped up in the soft, pink covering. Memories of rocking Olivia to sleep in his arms played out in his head. A constricting ache wrapped around his heart, squeezing the organ tighter and tighter. Thierry pressed the blanket against his nose, inhaling deeply in the hopes that her sweet scent would still be lingering. There was nothing there. His lids shut tightly together, holding in his breath until his lungs began to burn. Any physical trace of his daughter had been gone for a very long time. All that was left was boxes and bins of her belongings, collecting dust in a dark attic. Thierry’s mouth finally parted open to gasp out a muffled sob into the baby blanket buried against his face. Warm tears soaked into the cotton fabric as the former father wept uncontrollably. He wept for Olivia. He wept for the life that was taken from her. He wept for the time he missed with her. Every emotion he had buried down deep within his soul after Olivia’s passing was clawing its way to the surface. Thierry was helpless to stop it. His guilt wanted him to experience the immense agony coursing through him. He deserved this. He had failed his daughter, and this was his punishment. A never-ending pain that would haunt Thierry until his last dying breath.

[nil-the-glitch]

genuinely wtf is your dating history??????

A fucking nightmare carousel that's really only improved within the last year or so.

Reader, please note I am 25.

But for those who'd really like the nitty gritty dark details of the past, please grab a warm drink, a cozy blanket, and prepare your jaw and eyebrows with some stretches because you will most undoubtedly find yourself making expressions you have never made before.

This will not be "tea", this will be uranium grade toxic waste.

Now, with all that out of the way...

Lets see. My very first boyfriend was a guy in high-school, in the year below me. Scruffy guy who, as a freshman, somehow already had a full beard, a penchant for wearing bandanas around his neck like a roguish Texas outlaw (he was anything but), and greasy baseball caps. His first move on me was telling me he liked my shirt - some kind of band shirt, I don't remember anymore which it was - while standing in the cafeteria lunch line. I believe he was about half a foot taller than me as well, which probably made me ignore things that I should have paid attention to in favor of having a socially acceptable boyfriend of the socially acceptable height difference.

But I digress.

Shitty BoyFriend (from here on abbreviated as SBF) the first was diagnosed with, what was called at the time, "Asperger's Syndrome". He would frequently use this as a means to excuse hurtful comments, blame a lack of control of his strength on it, and a handful of other things.

He also came in me unprotected. Behind his mothers house. I had to shove a lump of toilet paper soaked in rubbing alcohol up there to avoid getting pregnant, because that was all I had, and then keep a straight face as I made small talk with his mother as the fires of hell itself scoured off the top layers of my hoo-ha with a fervor most men wish they had during oral.

So naturally, I broke this off, because at that point in time I still had some sense about me and hadn't been beaten completely over the head yet by SBF's and SPU's (shitty parental units).

His response to breaking up?

Stalking me from classroom to classroom, regardless of his own schedule, or how far across the building he needed to be, he would be there. This continued for weeks and through multiple confrontations of me telling him to knock it off and focus on his own damn self, until eventually I reported him to school authorities to get their rough equivalent of a restraining order.

Somehow, this is the second least offensive one. Please brace yourselves.

SBF #2 - also tall, also scruffy, I apparently had a type in highschool. Beautiful blue eyes though. SBF #2 was overall a good guy, really. Didn't push for sex, didn't even kiss often, instead gave material gifts (I still miss that thermos with a lid that was made to look like a soda can, I loved that thing and used it every day) and took pictures, that sort of thing.

You may be wondering why SBF#2 is even on here.

Well, dear readers who are no doubt still recovering from the last guy, let me tell you that he made a mistake that could have honestly been fatal - high-school was a rough time for me. I'm clean now, but at that point in time, self harm was a frequent and sometimes highly visible thing for me.

After seeing one such instance, SBF#2 broke up with me, claiming he "couldn't handle it".

Which in retrospect, fair, he's not obligated to fix my or anyone else's mental state for them. But at the time? Just another reason for my younger self to believe she was ugly, worthless, unlovable, etc etc, you probably know the deal having been in high-school once yourself.

Still though, easily the LEAST offensive of my past relationships. Liam, if you're still out there, please know I'm not mad and I totally get it, I was fucking mess and no teenager is properly equipped to handle that shit.

So SBF#3... The last of the high-school dating mishaps. Started off somewhat decent, a gamer guy on the heavier side, AGAIN with the full beards what was WITH me (just kidding I still like hairy people of all genders, rock on you fluffy beasts). An emo this time, unsurprisingly, with combed-over hair and lip piercings to go with it. He was fine, at first, if a little distant - more interest and excitement for eating Taco Bell while playing Forza than for spending time with me, but I was ok with that, because I was now soundly in my "I Can Feel Better About Myself By Fixing Others" phase.

The foibles of this particular relationship often looked like helping him clean his room, reminding him to take his meds when he eventually got some, being a second mother to his younger siblings and also to him himself, attending therapy sessions with him so that he'd actually go to them, gradually becoming an at-home unpaid therapist for him, and even more.

But again, that was fine, because I was living with him after leaving the SPU's house for the very first time! I had to pull some weight, didn't I? Or else I might get sent back!

... Reader, I got sent back. For some reason, SBF#3 was "tired" of me, and "couldn't see things working out anymore".

So I went back to the SBU's, only to find out my old room had been converted into a chicken hatchery. For a few more years, I would sleep on the old hatchery frame, 2-by-4's roughly nailed together and topped with plywood, cushioned only by old couch cushion foam inserts that were crumbling from being in the basement, and a leaky air mattress that popped a flattening seam within the first year and left it lop-sided. Enter: the Online Dating Phase.

This is where things get both Better yet also So Much Worse.

Being back with the SPU's, I was of course bombarded with constant ridicule telling me I'm worthless, lazy, fat (Reader, I was MALNOURISHED and living on SPOONFULLS OF PEANUT BUTTER MIXED WITH SUNFLOWER SEEDS---), that of course I got dumped because no man would ever want me, I would never make a good wife, and to go clean the whole kitchen from top to bottom every day.

So of course, when SBF#4 comes in, I'm enamored. A trans man who's older* than me for once, maybe I won't have to be his parent for him and he'll understand my blossoming struggles with gender!

(* - I was still in my teens, while he was roughly 23 iirc.)

I'd loved this guy so dearly, he was a cosplayer in a fandom I'd really been getting into and even kinned my favorite character! Who wouldn't want to date their blorbo irl?? He gave me cute nicknames and texted me every night and shared his interests with me and-

And I was being groomed. I was routinely exposed to NSFW content when I shouldn't have been, encouraged to dress up as characters from NSFW games to the point he was willing to mail me wigs for free, and CONSTANTLY being bombarded with vents about his """shitty ex friends""" who were """trying to ruin his image""", which eventually escalated to being accused to talking to these ex friends and being a spy for them (I hadn't at the time of the accusation, but the accusation did inspire me to reach out to them. Thank you Max and Louis for being good friends of mine to this day and helping me to recover from All Of That™)

The only good thing that came out of SBF#4, at this point, is knowing the various types of packers that exist, how t-growth works, and a handful of friends who followed me out of that server when I eventually called him out on his shit and took my exit bow.

Now we get to the "blood magic" offender who no doubt prompted this ask in the first place - SBF/GF/NBF#5 (they went through several gender identities and were also a system).

SBF#5 was, as I mentioned in those tags, from the bible belt, and so being another young adult queer, had LOTS of trauma to work through. This was my introduction to them - hearing them venting on a Discord vc, and me being still quite firmly in my "I Can Feel Better About Myself By Fixing Others" phase, I was sending messages in the according text channel, trying to reassure them and give some small comfort. This progressed to them contacting me in my DM's, and beginning a pattern that would be VERY long-standing, of routinely cycling through stages of intense lovey-dovey "I don't know what I'd do without you" brand of affection, to suddenly having bouts of "My Whole World Is On Fire And You're The Only One Who Can Save Me".

I met this system when I was roughly 18 to 19. They were around 22-23, if memory serves correctly. So once more, we have an age gap, though technically not an illegal one this time...

Barely.

Genuinely, I don't know how I began dating this system. I know their host was the first, or at least I think their host was the first - there was so much that happened that little details like that just get lost.

But, throughout dating this system, they very much monopolized my time. It was almost like if I didn't give them enough attention, if I didn't keep dating more and more of their system members, then bad things would start to happen - their host would go missing for a day and show back up in headspace bloody and bleeding, or supposedly "dead*" persecutors would claw their way out of their graves to wreak havoc, or someone I was close to in their system would get severely hurt or even get "killed*".

(* - Please know that in DID proper, alters cannot die. They can go dormant, or fuse with other alters, but alter death is not an actual thing. You of course are allowed to grieve dormancies and fusions, as it does technically cause the partial or even total loss of the person you previously knew, however equating it to death is simply just not correct. However, this being my first introduction to another system at the time, SERIOUSLY messed me up, and to this day I still react to dormancies and fusions as if it were an actual death.)

So, of course, being that this was the pattern, I became VERY focused, though unconsciously at the time, on making this system my priority and subsequently wound up bending to their every whim, at the cost of other GOOD relationships I had.

You see, between SBF#4 and #5, I'd actually become poly with a few other systems. One being my current fiancé who I wouldn't trade for anything, and the other being GPS#1 (Good Partner System).

SBF#5 would often pressure me to accept dating system members of theirs, privately and away from the other systems of course, to the point that GPS#1 said I'd broken poly and was cheating.

ALL of us now wish it had been that simple. The truth was far more fucked up than any of us had known at that time. We're STILL unraveling bits and pieces of the Absolute Fuckery that transpired. It has been YEARS now since we all banished them from our circles.

SBF#5's sins are so numerous that I cannot POSSIBLY go into detail on them, because this post is insanely long, and it would gain likely 5 times that length if I gave you all the details. I would also probably give you all trauma by proxy, if I haven't already.

So, to put it as an impersonal and rather detached list, SBF#5's sins are:

-Manipulation -Lying -Cheating -Grooming of minors -Endangerment of minors -Coercion, specifically around sexual acts -Coercion, also around dating -I cannot stress the manipulation enough -So much fucking manipulation -The blood magic thing -A severe case of Main Character Syndrome -Did I mention the cheating? -And the minors? -They cheated WITH a minor. -They also broke poly for real on multiple occasions. -WITH MY PARTNER SYSTEMS. AND DIDN'T TELL ANY OF US. -Playing all of us like the Devil to a fiddle.

So hands down, SBF#5 is ABSOLUTELY the worst to date. None else compare. They're winning gold medals at the Most Shit Person Alive contest.

Slight honorable mention to SBF#6 who dumped me after one of their system members manipulated me into isolating myself from other members of their system and basically said it was my fault that it happened but like. Honestly after SBF#5 that doesn't even sound that bad in comparison they basically look like an angel against All Of That. Bronze medal if anything at the Shitty People Contest and tbh even that is iffy, since #5 just. Absolutely blows everything else out of the water.

...

BUT! With all those people firmly out of my life, me, my fiance, GPS#1 and the more recent GPS#2 (QPR boogaloo edition), have been all very happy, communicating well, slowly healing from the collective shit that SBF#5 put all of us through, and also we are all VERY ready to pitchforks-and-torches on anyone who even ATTEMPTS to be a second SBF#5. Like genuinely I feel like GPS#2 would maybe even make a pipe bomb about it if that happened, but I love them for it. Vicious short king of chaos who loves their partners very much, good bean. 10/10 would play Minecraft with again. And of course GPS#1 is honestly just?? So strong?? For going through all the work of healing from what SBF#5 did and finding it in themselves to try things again with me without even a trace of fear? I'm in awe, don't know how they do it, I am CONSTANTLY terrified that our shared history will repeat. I'm still doing it scared though. They're worth it. They're all worth it.

[onemoregayapollokid]

Overdue Homecoming

I just read the Heroes of Olympus series and there wasn't a Percy and Sally reunion so I decided to write my own!

Words: 1.4K

Trigger warnings: None

Set after Blood of Olympus but before Chalice of the Gods and Trials of Apollo.

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Percy hesitated. He stood in front of the door leading to his mom’s apartment. He had never hesitated before, never felt his mom was anything but safe, and warm and open. But he knew the months he was gone with no memories of who he was wouldn’t have been easy for his mom. He hadn’t even been able to call her- not without alerting all the monsters where he was. As far as Sally Jackson knew, her son was still missing off the face of the earth. And Percy was home now, or at least close enough that he could reach out and touch the solid wooden door, so different from the Doors of Death and Tartarus that he felt like he could sob- and he hadn’t even seen his mom yet. Percy took a deep breath, swallowed the tears that were burning in his eyes and unlocked the door. He stepped in, seeing everything as he left it all those months ago- the same stained rug on the floor, the pictures, hanging crooked on the wall- Percy as a baby, a toddler a child and more recently, pictures of him and his friends, all wearing their orange camp shirts. Percy smiled, hand reaching out to trail along the back of the sofa, the same sea green blanket on the couch that had been there when he left for camp. He glanced into the kitchen, and his heart broke. For there, on the counter, was a container of blue cookies, no doubt made with the confidence that one day, he’d be home to eat them. Percy choked back a sob. He shook his head, making his way to his bedroom. He stood in the door, staring. Everything here was just as he left it, with one exception. On the table by his bed, sticky notes covered every corner of the surface and had started to climb the wall behind it. Percy dropped his bag on the bed, sitting in front of the table for a better view. He recognized his mom’s handwriting.  

“ Perseus, it’s been months and no sign of you. Annabeth keeps saying she’ll find you- and I don’t doubt her abilities- but all these months with nothing from you. I miss you. I’m scared for you. Please, please come back to me. “ Percy took a shuddering breath, glancing at the rest of the notes. All of them were a plea to come home, a declaration of love, a mothers desperate attempt to remind her missing son that he was wanted and desperately missed. Percy swallowed thickly, hearing a key jingle in the lock. He took a deep breath, brushing his palms against his jeans. He heard bags drop onto the floor and the keys clink against the wall. He stood and crossed to his door, catching just a glimpse of his mom as she went into the kitchen. He crossed shakily to the living room, and she was there. Hair tied up, she had clearly just come back from work, and she looked exhausted. More tired than Perccy had ever seen her, with deep lines etched into the planes of her face, dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in months. Percy took a deep breath before speaking.  

“ Mom?” Sally whipped around so fast; she might have given herself whiplash.  

“Percy?” Her voice was a whisper, her hands gripped the counter tightly. Percy tried to speak, but the lump that rose in his throat at the sight of his mom made that difficult.  

“ Mom” Percy’s voice broke, and Sally moved so fast she might have flown.  

“ Oh Percy” She crushed him to her chest, Percy’s head falling to his mothers shoulder, arms clinging tighly to her as if she would disapear if he loosened his grip. He could feel the rough fabric of her checkered shirt, the brush of her hair as it curled around her neck, the clench as she gripped his shirt just as tightly as he gripped hers, the shake of her shoulders as she sobbed- but Percy had stopped fighting the tears and was crying too.  

“ Percy, oh Percy. My darling Perseus. Percy” Sally was whispering his name like it was a answer to a prayer- and Percy knew it probably was. After what felt like forever and also no time at all, Sally pulled back, gripping Percy’s shoulders tightly. Her gaze flicked around his face, frowning slightly as she took in a scrape by Percy’s eyebrow- all that remained of the battle with Gaea.  

“Where were you?” Sally demanded, shaking her son gently. Percy still gripped Sally’s shirt tightly. 

“California” Percy said, grinning at his mom. Sally snorted, cupping Percy’s face tenderly. 

“I’ll tell you the full story eventually but not now. It’s-” His voice cracked, and pain clouded his eyes before he shook his head. 

“The short version is Hera stole my memories, swapped me with a Roman demigod and we stopped Kronos’ mother from taking over the world. “  

“Hera stole your memories?” At Percy’s nod, Sally glowered a wall.  

“What a bitch” She muttered. Percy laughed.  

“You can join our We Hate Hera Club. Exclusive club, members get bragging rights and trauma, usually.” Sally chuckled, running her hand through Percy’s hair. 

“Mom?” Percy questioned 

“Yeah, Percy?”  

“I’m sorry. I know you were worried, and I’m sorry, Mom.”  

“ Oh Percy. I was worried, honey. I was worried and scared for you. But it wasn’t really your fault. I can’t blame you, anymore than I can blame your dad for not being here. Your here now” 

“And I don’t plan on going anywhere for at least a year- Annabeth might actually kill me if that changes. I missed you, Mom. I wanted to come home every day, to call, something but I couldn’t. “  

“I know, honey." Sally smiled at her son, relief still humming in her veins. All those months worrying, fretting and all the tears she cried, the prayers she prayed to any god who would listen, none of that mattered because he was here, alive and well. Her boy, her son. 

“I have cookies for you” She offered, giving Percy one last squeeze before moving to the table. 

“You made cookies for me?” Percy questioned. Sally smiled fondly at her son. 

“I knew you’d come home eventually.” She responded.” Paul thought I was a bit crazy but I knew, Percy, that you’d come home to me. I didn’t know when, or where you were or what happened to you but I knew you’d come home.” Sally gestured for Percy to sit down, grabbing the cookies and the milk, just like she had when he was a child and had a bad day at school.  

Sally glanced at her son as he ate, saw the pain in his eyes, the way his face seemed older. Whatever had happened had clearly been hard on Percy. She knew he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, but she knew she’d get the story over the next few weeks, and she was equally certain it would break her heart. But for now, she was determined to drink in the sight of Percy, eating the blue cookies like he’d never left. Chatting about friends at camp, though he was careful not to go into details. She heard the story of the Stoll brothers stealing live land mines, of Will forcing Nico to rest, of Annabeth finding the Athena Parthenos. They talked until the sun traveled across the sky and the shadows lengthened on the floor. They talked as Sally prepared supper, as Percy unpacked his bags. They were still talking when Paul got home. He stared at Percy, before bounding over to give him a tight hug. There were more explanations, more tears. Late that night, after the dishes were done and Paul excused himself to go to bed, Sally and Percy sat at the table, eating the remains of the blue cookies. Percy yawned, swaying slightly in his seat.  

“Go to bed, Perseus. We'll talk more in the morning.” Percy smiled, though it was interrupted by another yawn. He stood, gave his mom one last hug and walked to his room. Just before he closed the door, Sally called to him. 

“Percy?” He turned to face her. “Just... don’t disappear on me. Please” He smiled reassuringly at her.  

“I’m not going anywhere, Mom. I promise. “With his oath, he closed the door and Sally let herself relax for the first time in months. Her son was home.