#my friends are sick of it but i will never cease this behavior

[societaltheft]

pixelized gore + slightly suggestive (i think??? adding js to be safe lmfao) under the cut

fucking love this game. this stuff is old from like last year but its the only art from last year i dont hate?? which is cool i think. anywho, FUCKING LOVE THIS GAME.

[douma-daisy]

hey hey! may i request a douma x demon! reader (can be either a common demon or a upper moon) where the reader is not annoyed with douma's behavior and is okay with the idea of ​​being his friend? i hope none of this sounded weird, but if it did, it's just because i'm not a native English speaker 🕴️

Your english is perfect, don’t worry!

~

Muzan’s number one was sick and tired of his immediate subordinate. He didn’t know how Douma kept finding him, especially since, unlike the cult leader with a temple to call home, Kokushibo scarcely stayed in one place longer than a few days at a time. Yet somehow Douma always found his way to Kokushibo to bother him in the name of “conversation” and “friendship,” two things Kokushibo had zero interest in.

“Hello, Kokushibo! It’s been a while!” Douma greeted with his annoyingly wide grin after sneaking up on him while he was stalking around a forest looking for his next victim. He sighed. He usually wasn’t one to break his stoic character, but Douma was getting on his last nerves.

“That is… false. It has only been one week and three days since our last interaction,” he corrected as he turned to him, all six of his piercings red eyes glaring at him. “Please cease these unwanted visits, Douma, before it becomes an issue.”

“Why so cold, Kokushibo? I only–” Douma cut himself off when Kokushibo sprinted off into the night without a single glance back. He frowned.

“If you’re looking for someone to talk to, I’ve got time,” a new voice spoke. Douma turned to the source, surprised to see another demon hanging down from a tree branch, smiling at him. Douma tilted his head at them.

“And who are you?” he asked, taking a few cautious steps toward them.

“I’m (Y/N),” you answered, letting go of the branch and gracefully landing on the ground on your feet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re Upper Moon Two, aren’t you?” You tapped your cheek just beneath your eye, noting his marked pupils.

“Yes, I am,” Douma said, smiling. “Tell me, what are you doing here, (Y/N)?”

“I was looking for food when I heard you and Upper Moon One talking. At first, I thought you might be humans who’d gotten lost,” you explained.

“Oh, are you hungry?” he asked.

“Starving,” you said. “My blood demon art isn’t very useful for catching humans.”

“Then let me take you back to my temple. I have plenty of people to feed on there,” he offered, grabbing your hand and starting back towards his home, not giving you any room to refuse. Being a much more powerful and experienced demon than you, he could run much faster, so you struggled not to stumble as he dragged you along. After what felt like forever, you arrived at your destination and were finally given a chance to steady your balance as Douma led you to the door.

“Make yourself comfortable while I fetch one of my followers,” he instructed. You nodded and looked around, plopping down in a pile of pillows.

After your meal, as I’m sure you don’t wish to read about that, you and Douma continued to talk. As you did, Douma kept wondering when you’d say you’d had enough, that you were too tired to go on, that he was too much for you, but you never did. You talked until one of his attendants knocked on the door to tell him people were there to see him. He couldn’t believe how much time had gone by. He also nearly killed the poor man for interrupting his conversation with you.

“I should let you get back to your followers,” you said. I’ll be out as soon as the sun sets,” you said.

“No!” he said, grabbing your wrist as if you were already walking away. “Stay. Please. I want to talk to you again. I haven’t had someone to talk to like this in so long. Please stay.”

“Well, if you don’t mind,” you said, your cheeks faintly heating up.

“Then it’s settled! I’ll have one of my followers give you a tour of the temple while I’m busy, then we’ll meet back here tonight,” he said. You nodded. He clapped his hands together and smiled. “Great! I’ll see you then!”

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Marianne wouldn't have married Brandon if she didn't love him

For the simple reason that he would have never proposed had he not had heavy encouragement, and that because Brandon is *very* aware of the age difference between Marianne and him from the very beginning and till the end.

When the teasing is happening at the beginning, he's uncomfortable with it, and he only realizes he has feelings for Marianne once everybody has moved onto Willoughby:

"Colonel Brandon’s partiality for Marianne, which had so early been discovered by his friends, now first became perceptible to Elinor, when it ceased to be noticed by them. Their attention and wit were drawn off to his more fortunate rival; and the raillery which the other had incurred before any partiality arose, was removed when his feelings began really to call for the ridicule so justly annexed to sensibility. Elinor was obliged, though unwillingly, to believe that the sentiments which Mrs. Jennings had assigned him for her own satisfaction, were now actually excited by her sister"

(As a note in passing, one of the big difficulties of Sense and Sensibility is that very often we are told a character believes or thinks something about another that we will take as truth, to THEN be revealed otherwise; we see it here with Mrs Jennings and sir John vs Elinor, and later on Elinor will correct the judgement she makes on this section about Brandon and Marianne having complete different characters).

I have seen people talk about Brandon having a complex of saving the lost girl, which isn't really the case here; as much as Willoughby might be called a rival here by other characters, nothing in Brandon's behavior shows that he considers him such, that he distrusts him or is jealous of him, until he comes to know what he did to young Eliza. Even his first love was not the "lost girl": she was a rich ward of his family, and all her disgraces came *because* Brandon and her were unable to elope.

Even when Brandon knows what Willoughby did, he hopes for the best and only comes forward with his story to ease Marianne's pain and regret, not to forward his suit, and even *then* he has scruples of conscience over it:

"My object—my wish—my sole wish in desiring it—I hope, I believe it is—is to be a means of giving comfort;—no, I must not say comfort—not present comfort—but conviction, lasting conviction to your sister’s mind. My regard for her, for yourself, for your mother—will you allow me to prove it, by relating some circumstances which nothing but a very sincere regard—nothing but an earnest desire of being useful—I think I am justified—though where so many hours have been spent in convincing myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?”"

When Marianne is sick, he only tells Mrs Dashwood of his feelings because Marianne might literally be dying and he cannot keep it inside. But after that? There are no presents, no approaches other than a short visit to a convalescent Marianne, because she specifically requested it herself:

"Marianne’s illness, though weakening in its kind, had not been long enough to make her recovery slow; and with youth, natural strength, and her mother’s presence in aid, it proceeded so smoothly as to enable her to remove, within four days after the arrival of the latter, into Mrs. Palmer’s dressing-room. When there, at her own particular request, for she was impatient to pour forth her thanks to him for fetching her mother, Colonel Brandon was invited to visit her."

And once they are all back to Barton, he stays away, only coming back after Edward has arrived:

"A three weeks’ residence at Delaford, where, in his evening hours at least, he had little to do but to calculate the disproportion between thirty-six and seventeen, brought him to Barton in a temper of mind which needed all the improvement in Marianne’s looks, all the kindness of her welcome, and all the encouragement of her mother’s language, to make it cheerful."

This is not a man "bidding his time" for a proposal.

People read the comments about everyone thinking Marianne was to be the reward of Brandon and miss the part where he wouldn't just do something because everybody else thought it was a good idea, considering how aware of the situation and Marianne's feelings he's throughout the book, and how apprehensive it makes him. There's no possible world in which this man proposed without having about 500% certainty that Marianne wanted to be proposed by him.

That Marianne loved Brandon enough to want to marry him is not only in the comment about how she grew to love him as much as she once loved Willoughby, but in the very comment that says she gave her hand on great esteem and lively friendship; those are the feeling and relationship Elinor confessed to about Edward at the beginning, but that we as readers could guess was more than that; it's a witty remark about how Marianne grew into the same way of feeling Elinor had when she was 19 as well.

It's a curious thing to me that, unlike Northanger Abbey or Pride and Prejudice, where we get some reference to Tilney and Bingley's side of the proposal, S&S remains silent on Brandon; Marianne fills the stage with her choice of marrying him, and the conspirator in me wants to headcanon that is because she more or less proposed herself, or brought it about in very unsubtle ways.

[httpsserene-main]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ hummingbird ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

notifications ☽︎: fem!navi!reader, selectivelymute!reader, deaf!reader, sully family x reader (platonic), side!neteyam x reader, self harm, panic attacks, sensory overload, child neglect and abuse, canon typical violence, no proofreading whatsoever lmao, 7.5k words

requested ☽︎: uhh sort of?? i reached out to the lovely @inutheangel who happily dealt with my rambling and decided to give writing a mute and deaf reader a shot! so i am really thankful they wanted to see this!

developer's notes ☽︎: okayyyyyyy! i am back! i was originally planning to get this out like last friday but i got reallyyy sick. like 103 degree fever for two days sick, multiple antibiotics, bed rest, no energy type beat. and i worked on it when i could but school started for me and it was taking everything in me to recover lmao. n e ways…. this is my child now. thank you @inutheangel, for gracing me with the opportunity to write this, and for answering all of my questions, and i hope you are pleased!! 

so this is a fem!reader, who’s also selectively mute and deaf. i did a bit of research to have a deeper understanding of these conditions, but i didn’t get too technical with it because i didn’t want to bore anyone, and this piece is already long enough without drawn out details. so it’s sort of? family-centric and follows the plot of the second movie loosely, because i couldn’t decide how to include it fully and that would’ve been an even longer work. it’s an 18 page long google doc, please spare me. i apologize to the besties reading on mobile. this whole work consists of headcanons, but i’m lowkey thinking about writing scenarios, and drabbles about fem!mute!deaf!na’vi!reader, which is a mouthful so i’m just going to call her hummingbird!reader, because jake calls her that in these hcs lol. if you want to see more of hummingbird!reader, and have any ideas of your own, or any fun thoughts about her and interactions with the sully’s let me know and i genuinely will respond and enthuse about this!

if i missed any tw's let me know, if you want more of hummingbird!reader let me know, and of course, enjoy!

much love, kirby <3 !!!

your father who died due to wounds being sustained when fighting the sky people

neytiri gave birth to neteyam 4 months before your father passed, and is the one to inform reader’s mother as they are close friends. 

your mother is barely 6 months pregnant with you, and the news about her mate sends her into distress and early labor

jake who was close with your parents (being two of the few omatikaya who eagerly helped him learn their ways) frantically got in touch with norm and max when the elders who were assisting your mother said that both you and your mother would probably die during childbirth.

norm and max perform a successful c-section not only saving you and your mother; you are born drastically underweight, barely half the size of your mother’s forearm, and you fail to breastfeed properly and you are transported to the lab to receive proper nourishment

your mother comes with, needing time to heal from c-section and the instinct to be close to you, but her behavior will change unbeknownst to everyone

when you become healthy enough to leave with your mother and return to the omatikaya clan, she’s aided by the women in the tribe helping her raise and nourish you in the absence of her mate, but it is mainly neytiri who sticks by her side bringing neteyam and, jake who stops on his own to watch over you as he promised your father he would

but when she’s alone with you… her instinctive mothering nature begins to dwindle, your face mirrors your fathers, and your mother hurts whenever she looks at you

she ignores your cries for her attention only seeming to return to the present when other na’vi come to check in on why your screams haven’t ceased

and as you grow stronger and older, her feelings of anguish and despair transform into anger.

she refers to you as a demon child, never stopping to remind you that you nearly killed her in the process of your birth, that she wishes you were never born, and that she’d trade your life for your father’s without hesitation

you do not understand her words yet, you understand her body language and the hostility radiating off of her

you're nearing two years of age, and it gets worse. you have yet not begun to speak. no first words, not a single babble besides cries. and she begins to compare you to other children your age who are developing normally

she yells at you for being a stupid, worthless child, embarrassing her with your silence. her volume raises even more when she finds you not even turning to look at her while she screams at you talks to you, failing to notice that you literally cannot hear her

she’s practically breaking the sound barrier raging for you to look at her while she’s talking to you. she marches over—roughly pulling your arm to get you to look at her— and your pained yelp is the only sound that escapes you as she continues to berate you

tiny ears pinned back in distress, tail tucked between your legs to match eyes wide with fear and confusion— not understanding why your mother only treats you like this you’ve seen how sweet neytiri is to her children

you’ve become numb to your mother’s behavior. you adapted to survive her anger. learning to avoid her at all costs; staying as far away from her as possible when she begins one of her tyrants. but this is her first time becoming physical with you

her bruising grip at your arm drops and switches to ripping your hair out yanking at your braids pulling your head backwards uncomfortably, scalp burning, and you begin to scream and cry

she’s completely delusional, cackling, “now you start making noise”

jake who was not far from your dwelling, is preparing a few carcasses to be cooked, when his ears picked up on your cries

he brushes off the first wave of your tears assuming it's just regular childlike tantrums which you rarely have without good reason anymore 

jake who fails to brush off tears the second time, your mother’s vengeful screams paired with your terrified cries—his paternal affliction for you overrides him and he rushes to get to you

you blank out of most of the altercation, only remembering seeing the olo’eyktan’s angry expression when he enters the tent, and eventually ending up returning to awareness in neytiri’s arms head hugged to her chest, feeling her sobs

you pull away confused at the change in scenery, looking around a little panicked unknowing of how you ended up in the sully’s tent; neteyam, kiri and jake nowhere to be seen

neytiri who tries to calm you down, but you do not even react, only turning to reach up at her face— a painfully adorable confused expression on your face as you pat her face trying to wipe her tears her heart breaks for you

your mother is probably banished to another clan i don’t know the logistics of that but she is definitely not welcome to stay neytiri would rip her fucking tracks out on god

and from that point forward you are basically adopted by the sully’s

neytiri accepts you as her own daughter, feeling responsible for not being aware of your mother’s neglectful and abusive treatment of you. she’d do anything for you (when you reach an older age she offhandedly mentions that she almost slaughtered your mother lol)

jake fully accepts you as well; he’s angry at himself for not protecting you as he should have. he’s extremely gentle with you, still treating you carefully as you’re still on the smaller side of average you’re barely bigger than kiri even though your almost a year older than her

neteyam and kiri are thrilled that you’re here to play with them forever. both of them accept you with minimal confusion; kiri is extremely grateful that she has someone to help her in bothering her older brother

when lo’ak is born, neteyam and kiri were interested in their baby brother at first but soon become bored when they realize he can’t play with them yet and even more uninterested when all lo’ak seems to do is eat, sleep, and cry. emphasis on the crying part

you on the other hand, are thrilled at having a baby brother, eager to hold him and stay by his side with neytiri and jake.

when neytiri and jake awake to lo’ak’s shrill screams in the middle of the night, neteyam and kiri are awoken as well disgruntled at the interruption of their sleep. but you stay asleep, as if you never heard his cries.

neytiri and jake, who take this as a blessing at first, because they don’t have to soothe all of their children back to sleep. but as all of you continue growing, neytiri and jake begin to become concerned

you still haven't made any effort with words, and they start to notice your lack of reaction at speech, and the sounds of pandora all around you

jake’s sweet call of your nickname “hummingbird” because all you seem to do is hum so quietly it’s almost inaudible, he repeats himself multiple times to try and get your attention, but ends up having to insert himself into your field of view for you to pay attention

neytiri’s warning for you not to stray too far from them at the river in the jungle, toddling off on your own intrigued by the feeling of the water rushing across your feet, ending up alone by yourself further downstream, hysterically crying (so quietly that its hard for them to find you), the only thing you're able to feel is the vibration of the water that soothes you as it gets darker. and the vibration of her panicked footsteps through the ground rush in your direction before your scooped up by her

kiri asking you to add some beads to her hair, distracted by the field of flowers in front of you, only becoming aware of her request when she pats you on the shoulder and you jump unaware of her being that close

neteyam asking if you want to play hide and seek with him and a couple other kids, he knows you get scared if you’re randomly touched,so he stomps on the ground behind you and you turn around curious at the vibrations, and he asks you again and you squint to read his lips

couldn’t think of anything for lo’ak since he’s just a littol baybee

neytiri and jake who finally bring their questions to norm and max after they see neteyam’s manner of interaction with you

and they finally receive an answer for your behavior. you're selectively mute, and completely deaf !!! wow shocker crazy breathtaking shook unbelievable

this isn’t that much of a surprise to jake, but to neytiri this is unheard of in na’vi society, or at least so rare it’s not talked about

norm and max who theorize that your deafness was due to complications of your premature birth, and that your selective mutism stems from the traumatic relationship with your biological mother

jake and neytiri who are at first distraught with this revelation–and the fact that you won’t be able to experience life like other children– but are quick to ask for ways to communicate better with you 

and at around 5 years old you begin speech therapy and your own special version of listening therapy with norm and max!

they do a couple tests with you to see where you are developmentally, and find that you’re actually smarter than most kids your age lmao, when you find out about this you definitely rub it in neteyam’s face.

neteyam who allows your non-verbal smugness parade, finding himself happy at your confidence

they learn that the squinting when you talk isn’t because you can’t see, it’s because you're trying to read their lips as they talk. you struggle with it now. not only because you’re a kid, but also because you’ve never heard the language

and as you spend more time in the lab with norm and max, you get more comfortable with them and learning speech.

the lab is the only place you feel comfortable with your attempts at talking because there’s no pressure from the two, unlike the other na’vi. being around everybody who can hear you struggling to speak correctly, and being teased and mocked by kids your age

norm and max suggest that your family learns sign language to try and help communicate with you

when they taught you how to write to more accurately represent yourself the first thing you wrote was “head hurt,” and tried to gesture that it was because of all the eye strain from squinting to read lips

the sully’s who are now dedicated to learning sign language for you <3

jake, norm, and max all work on developing your special language quickly developing it with the help of fancy sky people technology

and you take to it like a ikran does to flying (i’m working on relevant phrases as you can tell i am struggling lmao)

yet you only use it outside of the lab whenever you muster up enough confidence too, it’s still a form of communication and sometimes you just get so anxious that you shut down even more

the first time you sign with your family is in the comfort around the fire, when lo’ak sets his food on fire. you all freak out for a moment, jake scrambling to put it out, and it’s silent for a minute.

lo’ak who is on the verge of tears, and you hum above your normal volume of damn near silent and everyone’s attention flickers to you, but you do not notice.

you sign a simple, “skxawng. eat mine.” offering him your food

everyone laughs a bit shocked and hysterical at tonight's two big events, lo’ak being a lost cause, and you calling him an idiot

when tuk is born, you are happy to have another girl around to outnumber lo’ak and neteyam.

as a baby tuk loves your consistent quiet humming to your own tune, and you love the vibrations of her giggles and even her cries. you quickly decipher the different feelings of her cries understanding what she wants better that her own parents

now you and neteyam are both around 7, kiri and lo’ak roughly 6, and tuk a newborn

you’ve adapted so quickly in pandora

you’ve become way better with understanding the vibrations you feel beneath your feet; whether it’s an ikran pushing off from the ground, a pa’li nearing closer, a stream flowing nearby, or now spider’s failed attempts to sneak up on you (idk what to do with spider can you tell)

with how much you spend time in the lab with norm and max, you eventually start speaking in small quantities around them

your voice incredibly quiet, as you cannot hear yourself, but you watch their surprise and preen at the praise they give you as you succeed and excel

neytiri and jake who are pissed at the fact that norm and max are the only ones who have heard your voice lmao

the labrats take you out into the jungle to study your reaction to the stimuli in the jungle and notice that the mid-tone humming you do in your throat, actually changes to a higher pitch and sometimes you click

your ears flick towards the ruffling of leaves, the fluttering of insect wings, the rushing of water, the growling of animals, as if you can actually hear

they also notice how you hate when your feet are not touching the ground, your feet are always firmly planted, to feel

you’ve grown so much around norm and max with your speech that you can even read some of their english paperwork to them outloud even if you have no understanding of the bigger words but you still verbally close off when you return to your clan

but hey that’s selective mutism, when they ask why you are unable to speak you find that it’s not because you don’t want to…it feels like you physically can’t

when you and lo’ak are running around out of your parents’ range of hearing you love to speak to him (no matter how quiet your voice is) and everytime lo’ak bursts with joy at the fact that you feel comfortable enough to talk to him #youngerbrotherprivileges

he runs off to tell your parents and siblings that you spoke to him, but you pretend like nothing ever happened and that lo’ak is just imagining things

nobody believes him lmaooo, (i’m grinning)

omg! jake who brings you along to war strategy meeting when the sky people return, with you resting against his chest soaking up the feeling of his strong heartbeat, the softest purr continuously rumbling your tiny body

jake who holds you on his hip and explains the strategies of war to you and the various maps, lowkey using you as a medium to help remember plans better not realizing you’re eager to learn more about how to protect your people

omg major plot point alert!! when you come for a yearly checkup with norm and max, they mention cochlear implants for you

neytiri and jake are thrilled that you may have a possibility to actually hear

but you are scared at the idea of hearing everything

the discussion continues norm and max letting you know it would be a few years until you implants are made as there isn’t a audiologist around to assist them in their creation (idk how this would take realistically, but i’m going with this)

eventually you agree, starting to realize that you’d be able to hear your mom and dad’s voice, your sibling’s laughter, and neteyam’s laugh <3

at this point you have lurked around mo’at soaking up all of her tsahik practices, while neteyam is being taught how to use his bow and knife by jake and neytiri

at first your fine with just learning to be a healer, but eventually you start to see how jake and neytiri treat you and neteyam differently

they still treat you as if you’re the defenseless little girl they adopted years ago and neteyam as if he’s a full blown warrior

one more morning of watching neytiri and jake gather their various weapons, and neteyam begin to grab his own, while you’re being sent to mo’at to learn more about eywa (whom you love, but it’s begin to become repetitive, as you’ve heard her lessons many times before) you’ve finally had enough!

you walk up to jake and neytiri, shoulders raised upwards with unbridled anger and begin vigorously signing and them, a little to fast for them to catch up

neteyam who translates the bits and pieces he catches from the side “i….fight too….same…learn…defense…arrows…knives…”

jake who squats to your level and asks you to repeat yourself

slowly you sign as if speaking to tuk a child, “why can’t i learn to fight too? neteyam and i are the same age, we should be equal! i want to hunt fish too, learn to be a warrior, how to defend the people, shoot arrows, and cut with knives!!”

jake who is vehemently against you learning to use weapons and fight, and neytiri agrees

you spend the whole morning arguing as best as you can, before jake dismisses you and trashes your wishes to become a warrior

you break down into sobs, and jake reaches out to pull you his chest, neytiri to pet your hair but you shove their hands away from you, and your very first words to them are an anger-filled “i hate you!” stunning neytiri and jake long enough for you to rush by them and into the forest, narrowly avoiding the other na’vi’s grasps to bring you back to your parents

you travel in a direction you’ve never been in; leading yourself to a part of the forest your unfamiliar with, and discover you’ve gotten yourself lost (skull emoji)

you sit down expecting jake or neytiri to find you but when you feel the vibrations of footsteps reaching you, you realize it’s neteyam

you turn to hiss at him (one of your louder sounds) but he ignores it, going to sit right next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulder

you begin to cry again, using neteyam’s shoulder to literally cry on

he lets you tire yourself out before he pats your cheek causing you to look up at him and he says, “mom and dad are dumb.” (wide eyes emoji) “i will teach you what i learn from them when we are supposed to be playing, okay?”

and you accept his offer (girl boss and boy boss locked in bound 4 lyfe by their treasonous?? actions)

when neteyam leads you home, you allow yourself to be scolded and hugged by your parents and siblings, but their stance on you becoming a warrior hasn’t changed, so you fully rely on neteyam’s plan.

jake who does the bare minimum™ and gives you a little dagger for protection and teaches you how to use it, but refuses to do any more than that

a few more years have passed, sending you and neteyam into awkward growth stages, long limbs becoming lanky, the height difference between you becoming more obvious even though you are only four months younger than him. lo’ak starts learning to fight like his brother, you and kiri fully become apprentices training with mo’at and the other healers, and tuk shadowing her sisters everywhere

for 5 years you and neteyam have kept your promise learning how to fight through everything he teaches you, and the both of you stalking watching omatikaya warriors to perfect your form

anytime you try to tell neteyam that his grasp on his knife is incorrect, or his bow string isn’t taught enough, he automatically claims that you’re wrong and he’s right because “he’s older”

and everytime you say “only by four months!” receiving a smug “i'm still older” in response lol

you’ve definitely developed a little puppy crush on him, making a disgusted face when the other na’vi girls your learning to heal with refers to neteyam as your brother

you are quick to correct them tho, with an audible “no. he is my best friend, not my brother.” stunning them into silence at your firm yet light–quiet voice

kiri and tuk hear all of this of course, and start to prod at you about your crush on neteyam and suddenly you’ve lost the ability to understand sign language and how to read lips (reader is a comedian lmao)

while you and neteyam are locked in, 4 lifers, bound by your mutual-disobedience to your parents; you and lo’ak become a different breed of na’vi

apart from him, you are a poster-child for the poster-child. you weave many clothes, bracelets, baskets for everyone. address younger children's wounds when they played too rough, and genuinely strived to brighten everyones day with your mere presence, not needing to speak to do so

but with lo’ak… y'all are menaces to society, playing pranks on everyone but they’re generally pranks of minor inconveniences. y’all also stay out too late in the jungle, precariously explore areas you shouldn’t, etc. casual lo’ak type beat

jake still brings you to the strat meetings, letting this be the closest you ever get to war, and eventually asks for your point of view on things and starts taking your input into account, and sometimes even says to the other warriors, “my daughter notices that…my daughter thinks it may be better if..” and you preen, happy to accept this level of acknowledgement even if you are still not allowed to fight :(

ding dong! your ears have arrived!!!

as your listening and speech therapy has continued you’ve started to refer to your implants as your “ears” (i just thought it would be cute to call them that lol)

neytiri and jake drop you off at the lab for surgery, and it all happens pretty quick. (small incisions behind the ears while under anesthesia, instructions to keep them clean, and you have another four weeks to wait until you can use them to hear)

a month passes, and this time the whole family ventures to the lab to be there for your first experience of full volume

norm signs to you that he’s turning the ears on and when you begin to hear noises, you gasp, scaring yourself at your own volume, hands covering your mouth, ears perked upwards reaching and grasping for every sound around you

and the very first thing you hear is neteyam laughing at you, you turn to look at him, shocked that you can actually hear it, and then everyone begins talking with you, well at you

the rowdy sully’s are instructed to calm down before they overwhelm you with their voices, and the first words you grace them all with after you told neytiri and jake that you hated them are:

“i love you.” and then you begin crying bc your a soft soul who can’t take all these life changing moments you’ve had with the sully’s

talking is still very hard for you, so when you return home you shyly sign, “even though there are so many beautiful sounds, my favorites have to be the sound of your voices”

you are a rizzologistTM, there go the whole family blushing and kicking their feet

now there are two downsides to your “ears”

1. the fact that they rely on battery and last only around 8 hours (i feel like they’d still be in their prototype-era idk)

and b. that you become incredibly overwhelmed at all the sounds you’re hearing. the switch up was intentional ty (but i think overstimulation is normal for a person who has never experienced hearing before??)

almost everyday, after 4 hours you yank the ears off your head exhausted at hearing and return to the family tent happy with your silence as you recover

one particular day, you go through your daily duties, assisting mo’at in organizing in prepping and preparing medicines, delivering goods to various families, drawing new supply lines for the warriors, refereeing a children’s game, braiding hair, refining your arrow accuracy–and the noises are starting to make you physically hurt

the breaking point is when your whole family is sitting and waiting for dinner to finish cooking, and the sound of neytiri’s knife hitting the board sounds like a gunshot right by your ear

you abruptly burst into tears, the sound of your own distress further upsetting you. your hand cover your ears, before you finally rip your hearing aids off throwing them away from you, uncaring about damaging the precious technology

jake who immediately tries to soothe you asking you questions you can’t hear, and then you begin to claw at behind your ears as if your trying to dig out the internal mechanisms, starting to draw blood

kiri’s who’s sitting next to you tries to pull you hands away, but you shove her off of you, and you now curl up, knees to your chest rocking back and forth frantically

neytiri is the one to manage to get you to stop scratching at yourself, hugging you tightly and not letting you go no matter how hard you try to push yourself away from her gasp

your still inconsolable even though you’ve stopped hurting yourself, rocking back and forth as much as you can in neytiri’s grasp, and neteyam offers a solution

neteyam requests to bring you to a spot that he “found” implying that it might help you calm down. jake and neytiri are against the idea, not wanting to move you in this state, but he pleads, “if this doesn’t work then we can come back and try something different, but i know it will!”

mo’at is called over to watch over the rest of the kiddies as you, neteyam, neytiri, and jake make the trip to this “secret spot” 

you being princess carried (i think it’s the bridal carry but nah u a princess today) by jake *sob sob* it the calmest you’ve gotten so far but you’re still unresponsive and very far away from the present

they approach a clearing in the jungle after an 30ish minute walk, and neteyam gestures for you to be set on the ground, while gesturing for neytiri and jake to stop hovering around you while he sits in front of your still rocking body

the grass is a luscious green even in the dark, the area illuminated by the glowing fauna on the outskirts, and neteyam gently brings your hand up to his chest placing it directly over his heart, and presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closed, as he slows and strengthens his breathing

you slowly stop rocking, your eyes clearing as your breathing matches neteyam’s, the bioluminescent freckles on both of your body's flickering in the same pattern, and grass starts to pulse in time with your synced breaths

your eyes flutter closed as well, and a few atokirina start to float around the both you landing on both of you two–and when one lands on neteyam’s head he opens his eyes and carefully pulls his head away, a sigh escaping him as he relaxes fully

and then he turns to see jake and neytiri’s faces (i’m screaming, as i'm writing this) of shock like, he’s never seen his parents this off balance, and figures he owes them an explanation

“we discovered this place when we were kids, and she really liked it because she said that she felt eywa’s presence was strong here, and that it was like she could almost hear my voice when i spoke to her. and when she got her ears, we’d visit here more often whenever we both could sneak out between our tasks so she could relax from the constant noises.”

his last sentence brings neytiri’s and jake’s attention that they’re are very few sounds escaping into the clearing from the dense brush surrounding them, it was a void masking the noises of the jungle

neteyam continues, “it was a little trial and error process to figure out how to calm her down when she got overwhelmed like she did tonight–” he pauses as you slump forward into his chest exhaustion besting you as you fall asleep, “but i managed to figure it out after she crashed during one of our sparring matches.”

and then he does a verbal “oh shit” 

jake repeats him, “one of your ‘sparring matches’????” neytiri stunned into silence at his side

and now neteyam realizes he might not make it back alive to the rest of your family as he explains for the past almost 6 years that he's been teaching you how to fight, and jake and neytiri start to lose their mind at neteyam’s prolonged betrayal of their wishes

hey but he’s saved by your sleeping, and jake stonily tables the discussion for the morning

 the morning is not very fun for you or neteyam, being lectured for many hours about your secret lessons and everything and jake tries to use your recent overstimulation-episode as reason as to why you shouldn’t be fighting and you lose it at him

you speak, desperately, “you have not even seen my skills yet! it does not matter if it is a bow, or a knife, or a spear, i am very skilled. neteyam says that i have even better aim than him! instead of using my weaknesses as a reason for me to not learn, you should try to teach me to become better! not ban me from protecting myself, my family, or my people!” your voice breaks, “will you not even allow me the ability to defend my home?”

and with those words, neytiri–sees herself mirrored in you–breaks and suggests to jake that he he does teach you how to fight, soothing his worries with the stance of you at least being prepared to defend yourself and your family, while not necessarily having to be fighting on the front lines

spoiler alert jake caves, you and neteyam rejoice before your both consequently punished with morning training and evening training sessions

you have a lot of catching up to do, even lo’ak knows more than you as he teases you in the morning sessions he now tags along in

your relationship with neytiri grows stronger as she teaches you the way of the bow.

it’s like you’re her clone, as you grow up you begin to resemble her more than your biological mother. you become more confident, your presence assertive, not being afraid to speak your mind more often.

your relationship with jake takes more time to mend in the start. you feel his hesitation when you deal with any slightly dangerous matters. but it improves as you make a clean kill on your 13th birthday so precise many of the people debate if you or neteyam had a cleaner kill on your rites of passage. when you beat neteyam’s time for your own iknimaya by a few seconds (a whole seven seconds you taunt to neteyam) jake is berating himself for suppressing your talents

lowkey, i think you would hate flying in the begin because your feet aren’t touching the ground, but that is a story for another time because this is getting way too long

and he begins to allow you to join supply raids with neteyam when you turn 15 (as long as your ears are full charged up)

(let’s pretend like they never went to the metkayina clan for this i am too tired to make this chronologically/canonically accurate; i promise i have a plot somewhere in this long ass headcanon)

you and neteyam are excelling at being the eyes for your father and the warriors, always alerting everybody of sky people and leaving with no casualties or low numbers during the unfortunate but rare circumstances

 the warriors ask for your thoughts when planning raids, and even happily utilize your suggestions

when lo’ak joins you two on raids, too eager, it always end up with he and neteyam getting hurt, but when that missile hit you almost lost yourself thinking your little brother and first love died

but unlike jake, you don’t berate lo’ak you only tightly hug him, quietly conversing with him expressing your worry that you lost him, which does begin to have him start considering his reckless behavior

after caring for lo’ak and addressing his few scratches and knicks that were bypassed by your mother and father, you direct lo’ak to the tent with neteyam, your sisters, and your grandmother

the healer in you automatically awakens, taking care of the scrapes kiri and mo’at have not gotten to

you hold his face and clean the knicks from rubble, applying a paste to prevent scarring, and feel his gaze warming your cheeks, you steadfastly ignoring him

mo’at and lo’ak making eye contact and almost bursting out laughing and snorting at the two of you (i hc that mo’at and lo’ak are besties)

omg after that night when neteyam took you to the clearing with your parents, neytiri and jake automatically consulted mo’at about the atokirina and the pulsing of the grass and all she had to say was “eywa has chosen” with a smug ass look on her face (the smug look must be genetic)

lo’ak of course eavesdropping and then gossiping with mo’at constantly about how dense you two were lmaooo i love him so much

the sky people still capture spider. you are unaware of the situation as you’re hearing aids were undergoing updates with max and norm, and you were in the lab with them

when you return to the depressing aura surrounding the omatikaya, kiri’s haunted expression, you get the full story from poor tuk, pulling her into your lap as you wait for your parents to finish their discussion

obviously, when you hear about jake’s plan to leave you tell him that’s utterly stupid, obv he doesn’t want to hear it, but you plead for him to listen as the olo’eyktan, and not as a father

something along the lines of you'd be bringing the fight to clans who have nothing to do with it, you have better knowledge of the mountains than of the sky people yadayadayada, 

and he agrees! wow ur so strong and persuasive with logical reasoning, but he still does make a trip to the island to try and recruit some of the homies

you, neteyam, lo’ak, neytiri, and the other warriors start drafting so many war plans together while jake is toruk-makto-ing his ass of in foreign lands, intertwining the reef tactics with your own forest tactics

the metkayina agree to aid you in the rivers meeting the sea underneath the mountains, and secure the coastline of any fleeing sky people and stuff

fast forward, jake draws the sky people into the mountainous area, battle being fought successfully on the na’vi part but the same capture situation of lo’ak, tuk, and kiri occurs

you take tuk and kiri, while lo’ak and neteyam stupidly try to find spider on their own.

you fly kiri and tuk to safety on a nearby cliffside with a trusted ally, and circle back calling the boys’ ikran for a quick getaway

as you order lo’ak to jump for his ikran with spider, gunshots narrowly whizz by and neteyam follows after

his ikran gets hit, and so does he, plummeting out of the air

you dive after him, your ikran just barely getting you close enough to grab and pull him onto your saddle before they crashed

you feel his blood spill onto you, and you abandon the battle to take him back to mo’at and the healers knowing they have all the material prepared for caring for injuries

you dismount, screaming for help, as you lay him on the flat ground, hands applying pressure to the wound above his heart, neteyam whimpering out an “i-i’m okay, you can hear me right- i won’t leave you before…” and he struggles to continue

you cry, as the healers all join you doing the most to staunch the bleeding, on his back as the bullet went straight through, and at the pain he passes out, and you begin to panic at the thought of losing him forever

norm and max are there tho, and with their swanky human technology and  endless prayers to eywa–the healers, a dreamwalker, and a human are able to stop the bleeding and stabilize neteyam!!!! (aye i really am not ready to kill neteyam in one of my works my soul is too fragile for that)

ding dong the wicked quatrich is dead!!! or maybe not i’ll let you decide whether or not spider saves him in this scenario it’s not key to the plot at this point

the sky people turn running with their figurative tails between their legs

the metkayina annihilate any stragglers trying to escape off the coast

your family returns learning how close neteyam is/was to death, and rush to see him

you’re sitting by his side, hand over his heart making sure it doesn’t miss a beat, eyes trained on his face, your other hand with a damp rag cleaning all other debrief off of him

mo’at stands behind you, hands on your shoulders, staring at her grandson with worry seeping through her usual expressionless face

your hearing aids have died, so you can’t hear you’re family entering

tuk startles you as she climbs into your lap, and hugs your arm while her own tiny hand joins yours on neteyam’s chest

you look up at your mom and dad while lo’ak, spider, and kiri, rush to neteyam’s side, the tears beginning to flow from your eyes again, a raspy “i was almost too late to save him” spills from your lips

jake embraces you and mo’at, while neytiri kneels next to you, a hand on your knee while dampening your cloth to continue cleaning her son

as everyone begins to get treated for their injuries, various warriors spilling in, you refuse to have you own wounds looked at if it requires you to leave neteyam’s side

you stay in the tent by neteyam’s beside, numb to all the chaos happening around you, and it definitely helps that you can’t be disturbed at the sounds around you

it’s three days before neteyam awakens

you’ve slept in the tent, picked at your food, only eating enough to please your mother, kiri treated your wounds as you refused to remove your hand from his chest.

and when he rouses with a groan, and eyes squinting open, you call for mo’at, max and norm frantically, your whole family tumbling in too

and as dry as his throat must be, the first thing he asks is, “did we do it?”

and you all start crying again, jake walking over to sit on the ground by neteyam’s side and pets his head, nodding softly, choking up

and you finally slip away from his side, neteyam not missing your withdrawal, before his siblings fill up your absence, and you allow mo’at to finally get a closer look at your injuries

neteyam stays in the medical tent for a week, before he’s allowed to be transferred back to his family, and you’ve haven’t been to see him since he’s woken up

you’re afraid

you’ve spent seven days constantly working, over-working, so you don’t have to go to sleep; checking everybodies injuries to make sure they’re healing properly, guiding prayers for the na’vi’s that are returning to eywa, cleaning up debris from the mountain and surrounding area and stockpiling any material/tools that may be useful in the future, healing injured ikrans and pa’li, hunting for hours to gather enough food for the injured, and when you join jake to speak with the metkayina leader with the deepest eye bags and gaunt form he’s ever seen he’s had enough

lol as he’s inviting the metkayina to return when they omatikaya have settled back to normal ronal tsks at him, and gestures to you, you struggling to stop yourself from falling asleep standing and says, “you cannot even take care of your daughter. our visit can wait longer.”

jake who pulls you to his side on the walk back waiting for you to open up to him, and you finally break, “i can’t close my eyes without seeing him die.”

he slows you both to a stop, cups your cheeks and tilts your head upwards so you can read his lips, “babygirl hummingbird, maybe what you need is to remind yourself that you saved him. he’s been waiting for you to come see him. i’m confident that neteyam won’t mind if all you do is sleep next to him, he’d be comforted knowing that you are safe too.”

you end up falling asleep in your father’s arms, getting carried the rest of the way back, and waking up the next morning cuddled up with neteyam

he’s playing with your hair, gently massaging you scalp as he talks with neytiri, a smile on his face, as he watches her prepare breakfast, being scolded when he offers to help

you make a soft questionable hum, and his head automatically turns to look at you, his smile turning into a smirk as he teases, “i heard you couldn’t fall asleep without me?” (RIZZ level 99)

you shove him away from you, cheeks turning indigo and you snark out a “shut the fuck up”

lo’ak and kirk dramatically losing their minds over you cursing in english, and tuk really overselling it with a “she said a bad word! she said bad word!” while jake and neytiri laugh and half heartedly scold you for your choice of words

both of you stick to each other as you eat breakfast, elbows and knees knocking together constantly but you two refuse to even allow a millimeter of space come between you

after everyone’s stomach’s are full, energies high, suddenly everyone is finding an excuse to leave you and neteyam alone in the tent, jake grounding you to bed rest for a few more days to recover from sleep deprivation

lo’ak’s like: “i gotta go walk my ikran real quick” did i say i love him already

before neytiri leaves she gives you a rundown of how to clean and monitor neteyam’s wounds (even though you’re capable of figuring it out yourself, being mo’at’s best student after kiri), but you let her to soothe her maternal instinct

finally alone, neteyam signs to you, “i was asking for you the moment i could speak again, but you never came to see me. i was beginning to accept the idea that you…that you didn’t care for me.” your head snaps up to make direct eye contact with him, tears clouding the dismayed look in your eyes (matching his own broken expression), vehemently shaking your head and you speak, your volume nearly reaching a yell, “do not think for a second that i do not care for you. that i do not need you anymore. like you are not my reason to fight for our lives here.”

neteyam who is stunned to silence not only at the borderline confession within your words but also at the traumatized look in your eyes that you are unable to hide, and you switch to signing, “i was the reason you died if you think about it. it was my idea for us to stay here and fight when we should have just listened to your dad and left! maybe you wouldn’t have been near death! maybe all of us would have never been found! maybe we could just be normal children again!”

neteyam places his hand on your cheek, and you raise your own to hold his wrist as you nuzzle deeper into his grasp and you lightly brush your lips against his palm. your eyes flicker to his own again and he brushes the tears off your lashes and comforts you, “but none of that happened. we made our decision, and your idea to stay here has saved us, saved me. while the sky people have not been ousted completely, we have pushed them back, only because of you and your brilliance. i live to see you grow and flourish because you are a strong warrior, strategist, healer, and more. and most of all, i am thankful you have saved me so i can stand by your side, if you allow me to…?”

you smile, fangs you have yet to grow completely into making you look a lil adorable, and sign the english phrase “i love you,” and you follow it up with an audible, “oel ngati kameie.”

neteyam with hearts for eyes, physically swooning for you, parrots your words and signs, voice velvety, “oel ngati kameie.”

© killakirby - piracy and plagiarism are not allowed. no reposts on any form of media.

[giantkillerjack]

"Oh, Jack. You silly boi. You know that help at the top of the stairs is no help at all."

---

Art piece i may delete later about my parents offering money to me and my sisters to pay for either grad school (a thing I don't want and can't do with my disability) or my wedding (also a thing I don't need/want), but not for anything that would actually help me escape poverty and find stable housing and income.

Like, I recognize the privilege of being able to complain that my parents have offered me a bunch of money but in the wrong way.

But also if that money is on top of a flight of stairs that I can't climb (but my sisters can), then I haven't really been offered money, so much as I have watched money I need be placed somewhere I can't reach it. Which tbh feels worse than if it was never mentioned to me in the first place.

I was gonna send this art to them and i wrote this big long message to go with it, but then I decided to wait until my therapy session on Tuesday to talk it thru with her first, since I've literally never regretted doing that.

Besides, both of my parents are lawyers and right now they're providing me and my friends with a lot of free legal advice about this property we're trying to buy together, so I don't want to rock the boat currently.

I just wish I knew if I had access to that money as a poor person in need of stable housing and quality disability care, and I wish my parents weren't world-class hLepers who have a long and triggering history of engaging me in rigorous debate about the kind of help I should be allowed to receive from them as a disabled person.

Nothing like having to provide an argument that would hold up in court every time I'm sick and need help! Love that! Love that I can't even talk about money with them now without having invasive thoughts about it for days to come due to past incidences in which this repeated behavior of theirs literally endangered my life!!

Not like I need that mental capacity for working on the largest and most exciting opportunity of my life that also happens to line up with my hopes and dreams for the future!! It's fine!! What do I even need mental capacity for anyway?????

This wouldn't even be the first time this little Distrust Fund has caused problems for my relationship with my parents. They are very opposed to that money being used to help my disability and it has caused PROBLEMS for us that we have never quite recovered from.

It's just difficult to be reminded that although our relationship has gotten better (mostly thanks to me setting boundaries), that doesn't mean they now actually believe what I need for my disability when I tell them.

They really do love me, and they have only ever acted with the best of intentions . But good intentions cease to matter when the impact is harmful and repeated. And they have proven to be repeatedly incapable of providing non-ableist support for me again and again and again. They've even genuinely tried to learn; and sometimes it really seems like my mom has made progress with her therapist (who is disabled), but who knows when I can so jarringly be reminded of how quickly that toxic ableist thinking can show its ugly face.

It's so clear to me and they don't even know it's there.

It feels like I'm in a horror movie when I try to get them to understand their own ableism, and that is a good good sign that I may want to consider an approach that minimizes my mental damage instead. Even if it means I don't get their stupid, deeply-conditional-and-yet-the-conditions-are-SO-vague-and-they-won't-admit-it money.

[spring-lxcked]

Takes your face in my hands. I need you to understand before reading this that, while I discuss William's personality being, in some ways, a reflection of how he was raised, this is not in reference to the horrific murders. Even if he had had a near perfect childhood, he always would have turned out a serial killer. Any discussions of his parents' effects on him are about personality and how he raises his kids. That's it. Also boohoo none of this excuses any of his behavior lmao.

Overall, William's childhood wasn't abnormal for the time. He grew up in a household that had been middle class, but struggled during and after the war. He lived in a relatively small town—not quite rural, but lacking in the bustle of city life. A mid-sized home built in the 30's. A mother and a father who were very much products of both the times and their own childhoods. A sister one year older to whom he was very close. It had all the makings of a standard childhood.

William's relationship with his parents was complicated—something his sister could relate to as well. Their parents were Ethel and Sidney, a pair who fit right into the norms of the time. Ethel was a housewife, albeit not opposed to Jayne's desire to work, and Sidney was an office worker turned automotive technician. While they swore that they loved their children, their relationship with them was simultaneously strict and distant. Once they were old enough to be away from their parents, they were sent outdoors to play with only the expectation of being back in time for meals. The notion of actually playing with their children was beyond them—they were far too "busy" to engage in that kind of thing.

Their father was an infrequent presence in their life, often either working or spending his time off relaxing rather than with the kids. He did, however, teach William how to work on cars. These moments are some of the few genuinely fond memories he has of his father. Their mother, although much more present, was emotionally distant and not particularly skilled at expressing her love. The mother who would hold William when he was young and pet his hair when he cried faded as he aged. The household could be best described as cold outside of William and Jayne's relationship.

Emotions were a touchy subject and "sensitivity" was not tolerated beyond a certain age. While crying or showing strong emotions was shamed in general in the household, the society of the time only reinforced this to William as a boy. Meanwhile Jayne was forced to withstand the assumption of maturity far before William. Despite their close ages, she was expected to be more in control of herself than William as a girl. The negative feelings around showing emotion are something that affected both of them. Neither are good at opening up except, to some degree, to one another.

The relationship with William's parents became more strained with age as he began acting out. Repressed anger—a kind he couldn't put a name to nor explain—led to him lashing out at those around him. (This, and a genuine enjoyment of scaring and even, at times, harming others.) William took the concept of a "bully" to a new level—the older he got, the more his fellow teenagers began to question if he was actually dangerous. Friends were hard to come by, and William had never had a good grasp on making friends as it were. Despite his actions, Jayne stuck by him, hoping to talk him down from his escalating behavior. If he had a best friend at this time, or a friend at all, it was her. His parents, on the other hand, inevitably gave up on him—something they told him outright. No amount of punishment seemed to help, and they knew nothing else. Even when he began to pull himself together at 17/18, they no longer had any use for him.

Cutting off his parents when he moved to America had been easy enough. Outside of a call here or there, he ceased any interaction with them. When his mother became sick, he didn't go home. When either died, he didn't attend the funeral. Although she would never admit it, Jayne never quite forgives him for that—for leaving her to handle it all by herself.

William's childhood has major impacts on how he parents his own children. On one hand, he strives to be better than his parents were. On the other, he is still his parents' child. Where his parents were unwilling (when able) to provide their kids with the things they wanted (rather than just needed), he spoils his kids materially. Where his parents were not active in a lot of his life, he regularly tries to involve or be involved with his kids. Where his parents were overly strict, he can be almost too lax (at least early on). But, much like his own father, he loses himself in work, excusing his absence (or having to haul the kids with him post-divorce) on "providing for his family." Like his mother, he's entirely emotionally unavailable and incapable of showing anything beyond the most basic comfort.

[eyeballjellomold]

I know I never post on here anymore, but I just need to vent for a sec on a platform less littered with casual acquaintances and concerned family. Maybe I'll delete this after exorcising this thought loop that's causing me to sit here crying like a dumbass, but I am honestly curious if anyone has any insights. This will be a TMI-ish post.

I feel really fucking alien and despairing, and I'm sick of this being my daily existence. I really don't understand why it is impossible for me to make lasting reciprocal romantic/physical connections with people, when, in spite of the self loathing I often feel, I understand that I am:

beautiful

funny

talented

smart

kind

compassionate

caring

really good at sex

I've basically given up on the hopes of meeting someone I feel I could truly, reciprocally be in love with and have opened myself up to just being casual and even dating heterosexual men, but even still, after one or two hangs, I cease to exist to people. This even includes people who were supposedly close friends and friends who continue to flirt with me off and on at their own convenience but choose to never actually hang out with me in person.

I know I am insecure, I know I can be overwhelming, I know my constant financial instabilities can be stressful (but I never depend on other people, so that shouldn't even be an issue). I have had so many people pursue me who I was only so-so about and then once I got a little invested, they told me they realized they weren't attracted to me. I don't understand what I am doing to self-sabotage or turn people off after their initial excitement about me.

I had a really amazing sleepover date with someone back in September that actually felt like I had finally met someone I could feel secure around, equal to, and feel sure that the attraction was strong and reciprocal. They gushed over me and assured me they wanted to keep seeing me but then disappeared. When I asked if I was being ghosted, they said no, they had a great time with me and want to see more of me, and we made tentative plans to hang out the following weekend. When they never followed up with me, I messaged them, and then nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. Why are people like this?

I have a friend who, months ago, admitted they were also into me, and we texted and flirted and talked about hanging out a ton, but they deal with mental illness stuff that makes them afraid to hang out, supposedly. But they are constantly sharing sad memes and posts about being lonely and desperately wanting something with someone and talking about being disappointed in their dating app experiences when they have a friend they supposedly think is great and really attractive and fun practically begging them to hang out, and they refuse. I think they are lying about liking me at all, but they say no, that I can't take it personally. And I know someone like that isn't a good fit for me, but I really just would be reasonably contented to have a good friend I could do goofy shit with and fuck and cuddle without all the relationship expectations. But everyone who approaches me about being into me in anyway acts like I'm expecting them to sign a fucking contract the second I reciprocate. I sometimes worry I give off a vibe of desperation that scares people, but when I look at conversations or recall my words and behavior in hindsight, I really don't think that's it.

I don't get why so many people stand in the way of their own happiness, even fleeting happiness, even just temporary comfort and physical fulfillment. It would be so easy to just text someone "sorry, I thought I was into this, but it's a weird time in my life" instead of ghosting, so easy to be like "ok, sure, come over, let's watch cartoons and make out, I know you're patient and not judgmental, and you said we'd take stuff slow if I have to," so easy to be like "I'm sorry I initiated sex with you considering we've known each other for 15 years and you're a good friend and we had all that weird romantic history with each other, it was a mistake to fool around with you and then disappear on you when I know I'm dealing with trauma. "

I know what I want, and I would love to not want it, because it makes me near suicidal that it feels so far out of reach. And I hate that people who I am not even in love with/driven mad with lust by are dicking me around so much. I'm working hard on managing my expectations, and I thought approaching things more casually would help me fulfill physical and social needs for the time being, but everyone is a fucking mess who feels totally okay being reckless with my feelings. I don't think expecting to be treated relatively human is akin to hanging the yoke of a relationship around someone's neck, for god's sake.

And it would be really easy to say that so much of this is because I opened myself up to bisexuality, which means dating men, but women treat me like shit, too, so *shrug*

[kyrodo]

I hate misrepresentation. I hate it when people disrespect another's identity. Whether it's what they say, how they wish to express or identify themselves, whatever. Even if it's an enemy, you don't do that. In the same argument I understand that one of the first things people do when they don't agree with someone or don't like someone, is these little betrayals. Going for words versus what people meant. Picking apart context instead of respecting what people mean to express. Avoiding respect, avoiding taking people seriously, avoiding meaningful responses towards the person they do not wish to acknowledge. People avoid standing on the same level with the people they dislike, even when the ideals they fight for contradict the very behavior they engage in.

Because hate takes priority over one's ideals, over one's morals, over maintaining any level of integrity or tact. All that matters is any little way to offend or dismiss the enemy in front of them. All that matters is hate and any little way to make that known to the enemy.

People that are willing to make that sacrifice just to get back at someone, I will never be able to get along with. I will never want to be friends with.

You showed me that sometimes it doesn't matter how agreeable you are, how well you can process what people mean to say, how cohesive you are, how willing someone is to relent when spoken to with the right channels. There are people that can and will shit all over them regardless. Because hate is the end of understanding. Hate is the end of respect, of common sense, of even common decency. It is the willingness to destroy someone even when the reasons do not line up. Because you've stopped listening, you've stopped caring, and the facts of the matter cease to matter.

How many times did I say I would've left and kept to myself. I lurked and lurked sure, and I would have trouble hiding it, but given time I would have been gone, I would have moved on. It would be one thing if I had kept at it for years. It was months. Rhyme, justifiable reasons, probable cause, all of that is completely lost on you. And that's what gets me the most. You didn't want the conflict to end, you wanted someone to hate. You wasted no effort making sure I couldn't leave.

I would point out all the most random things to try to keep things from ending as an act of desperation wishing there was still hope that things would go well between us. And quickly devolve into dis journals when things didn't pan out the way I'd hoped. But I never came after you. The one who crossed that line was you. The who was setting all these romantic flags, and lying to my face the instant we share any actual words with each other was you. I was angry, sad, scared of what might happen if we got together, miserable, and I wasted no effort showing that. But every time I tried to trust you, you showed me that I couldn't. I deleted my entire social media history out of misery, as an act of self-destruction and instead you took it as me trying to hide shit from you. But you knew long before we shared our first words my actions initially had nothing to do with you. And you kept attacking me from all the wrong angles. Take everything in the most negative way possible just to feed your friends a target.

Who did I fall in love with? It was the idea of you. An idea that was clearly misplaced. I don't know what I saw in you, but I was so incredibly wrong about you. Someone like you should never have been able to leave a stain on my heart. I know I was self-destructive, cause normally I would never want someone like you.

Normally I value myself too much. I value myself enough to be angry whenever my mom says I sound or look sick even when there's no actual visual indication that I am. I value myself enough to no move back home whenever she pushes me to. I value myself enough get pissed off when people mistreat me like you do. I value myself enough to be afraid to join the military and die. I value myself enough that I give a shit when people are being mean to me. I'm not like Lupy who constantly berates himself over every little thing. I value myself enough that instead of doing anything against myself physically I'll push those thoughts onto the internet. There are so many layers I'd have to get through before I would actually start to hurt myself for real.

Because I care. No matter how hard I try not to I care. No matter how hard I try to relieve myself of the last lines of hope I can't remove that last bit of me who sees the future and wonders what it contains for me. And that is what sets me apart from other people who get depressed. Even when I thought all the good times of my life had come and gone and I would never have friends again, I stayed.

You never seem to know what to say. At least I already had someone who does.

[the-firebird69]

The storm is headed towards the canal then I'll be pissed it is and BGA is mad we're getting angry too his act is terrible non-existent. And he says stuff that doesn't make sense he goes ahead and does crazy s***and he's acting like John Raymond Lord to us and our friend I'll tell you what I want him out it looks like his own clones do and John remillard bja Jason Brad all the more likely leaders I'm seaking him. Unity impaling around in the movie in the movie homicidal pile of jackass the self-defeated wimps is sick

Mac Daddy I'm ordering them gone based on their illness severe self-destructive behavior to the point where they're absolutely 100% useless.

I agree with him I'm very nasty people they keep putting on a sun and massive dress kidnaphim to take the AI so we don't have anything to do with them. I'm issuing orders for their death and it's succinctly it's very obvious the only thing that will stop them is for them to cease to exist. I'm going to send it back to myself with the issue is. Brother you have to leave our son alone there's plenty of problems because you morons in the AI systems don't work that well and you need armies and your fools. They don't listen we're going to simply get rid of you and none of you appear to be listening. I found your common Street gross crafts and ridiculous no comments are their pile of idiots and they're mincing my words but I said was your comments are gross and they're napped and they're ridiculous and they don't make any sense but neither does your plan. So you get the AI and you think you can take over the nights in White satin and he starts another stupid invite where Christopher Walken thinks he can do it all and we don't speak about our son that way give me a bigger fool than we thought. We look at it like this there's a lot of them that don't have any chips in them and people mentioned it so if you want to take them over you have to make your own and the way yours work is you need one in each and every one was redundant system or it never works at all

Thor Freya

[emeraldiis]

Falling for a God

A/N: Forgot to properly post/format this fic, so here ya go ya filthy animals (ok but i wrote it so I’m filthier)

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”You have a huge crush on Loki, there's lots of sexual tension, y'all fuck. That's the plot.

“Nat,” you whine. “I feel like you’re not even listening.” You prance to the front of her, spinning around to walk backwards.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Wow, are you sure you aren’t pyschic?” She keeps up her brisk pace, and you nearly trip over yourself trying to keep up.

“That’s so rude!” You exclaim, but can’t hold back a giggle. Despite her cold demeanor, you know that Nat is just messing with you. Shooting a quick glance backwards, you decide that your path is clear, and return your gaze to your friend. “You’ll tell me if I’m about to run into something, right?”

With a wry grin, Natasha gives you a thumbs up. You beam at her. “Anyway,”  you continue. “I started watching this new TV show last night, and it is so, totally awesome. There’s this guy, and he has these badass powers, and he’s fighting this girl, and she has-”

Thump.

A small oof escapes from your mouth as your back collides with something solid. You pitch forward in surprise, and yelp as you try to stabilize yourself before you fall. Large, warm hands grab your waist, tightening around you to keep you from toppling over. You sigh in relief as your frantic heart slows to a normal rhythm. “Wow, thanks,” you say, and spin around to reveal the identity of your saviour.

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat. “Careful, pet,” Loki murmurs softly, a sly grin spreading across his lips. His hands slide off of your waist, making contact with the sliver of skin between your shorts and your top on the way. An involuntary shiver creeps up your spine, and you bite your lip.

The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the ever-perceptive trickster, and his eyes flash with surprise. “Are my hands really that cold?” Loki teases. “Perhaps you could help me warm them up.” His tone is playful, but there’s something deeper underneath his banter that makes you think he’s actually flirting.

You can tell that your cheeks are red, and you choose not to respond to Loki’s question in fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself. A stammered apology tumbles from your lips, and you look back towards Natasha with a look of betrayal. She grins and shrugs. “I forgot to warn you. Oops.” Your mouth drops open. That scheming little devil. She knows about your crush on Loki, and she still allows you to make a fool out of yourself?

Your interactions with Loki were sparse, to say the least. Aside from a few casual conversations in a group, you had barely even talked to him. Still, he captivated you from the very first day he arrived at the compound. He was exactly your type; tall, dark, and brooding. Aside from Thor, most everyone gave Loki a wide berth, hesitant to forget the battle for New York. You, however, didn’t see a villain. You saw pain behind those blue eyes, and could empathize with Loki’s behavior. You knew all too well that it hurt to live in someone’s shadow, and sometimes acting out was a cry for help. Granted, Loki’s outbursts were far more drastic than yours had ever been, but it was more or less the same on a base level. And, the fact that he constantly had a witty remark on the tip of his tongue never ceased to entertain you. The man liked to hear himself talk, and damn, so did you.

It takes you a second to realize that you’ve been staring. You clear your throat awkwardly and look to the floor, eager to hide your discomfort. “Um, thank you for catching me,” you manage. When you look back up, Loki is wearing an odd expression. His pretty eyes are narrowed, searching your face. The scrutiny only embarasses you further. “Well, see you around!” WIth that, you dart around Loki and scurry off. Natasha follows you, snickering softly.

When you reach the common area, you plop yourself down on the couch and groan, throwing an arm over your face. Natasha sits down beside you. “Smooth,” she says, drawing out the word obnoxiously.

You remove your arm from over your eyes and give Natasha a withering look. “So not funny.”

Nat positively cackles at that. “Oh, come on,” she says. “He’d be an idiot to not at least have a thing for you, I mean, you’re smoking! ” She looks you up and down. “Nice rack, too.”

A giggle bursts from your lips. “Nat. Oh, my god. Stop objectifying me.”

Shaking her head, Natasha replies, “Me, objectify? I would never.”

That earns her an eye roll from you. “Sure. Anyway, can we please change the subject? I’m sick of talking about my embarrassing Loki crush.”

“What does ‘crush’ mean?”

You freeze. Now that was a distinct voice. “Thor,” you choke out. “When did you get here?”

Thor walks up behind the couch and swings himself over the back, making the poor piece of furniture creak in protest. He settles next to you, effectively sandwiching you between him and Natasha. “Just long enough to hear you discussing my brother. Now, will you please enlighten me on this strange Midgardian term?”

Before you can shut him down, Nat pipes up from the other end of the sofa. “It means she likes him. Romantically. Sexually. ”

The temptation to throw yourself onto the floor wailing is high. Instead, you opt to beg for your life. Still embarrassing, but slightly more productive than throwing a tantrum. “Nat!” You screech. You turn to Thor with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t say anything to him.”

Thor furrows his eyebrows. “What an odd expression. You’d think that the word “crush’ would be associated with something negative.” He places a big hand on your thigh. “If what Lady Natahsa says is true, then why would you not tell my brother? He is quite vain, you know. I’m sure he would be delighted to know that a beautiful woman is attracted to him!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. These Asgardians will be the death of you. “It’s not that simple, Thor. What if he rejects me? I’d never be able to show my face around him again!”

There’s a pause, and then Thor asks you in a much gentler tone, “It seems as though you care for Loki a great deal more than you are letting on. Are you really afraid of embarrassment, or is it the heartbreak you fear?”

You’re glad that your hands are covering your face, because the way the color drains out of it at Thor’s question would have given you away. “No,” you mumble through your fingers. But he’s right, you do care for Loki more than you’d ever admit. His image ran through your head at night when you were trying to sleep, and his voice was what came to mind when your fingers were between your legs and you were pretending they were-

You rub at your eyes, then look up at Thor in desperation. “Please, if you really care about me as a friend, you’ll keep this secret.” You shoot a look at Natasha. “You, too. I may not be able to take Thor in a fight, but I could kick your ass.” You know you sound like a pathetic teenager, but you’re past the point of caring. You were perfectly happy admiring Loki from afar, and didn’t want to get your hopes up just to be met with shame.

Natasha scoffs. “As if.” Before she can continue. Thor holds up his hand.

“Lady Natasha, I believe we should stay out of this. I have done a great deal of meddling in my brother’s life, and I’ve learned that even the best intentions can cause disaster when Loki is involved.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say gratefully, relief evident in your voice. With a tired sigh, you hoist yourself up from the couch and turn to face your friends. “Well, I think I’ve had enough excitement for today. I’m going to hibernate, see you next spring.”

Natasha giggles and blows you a kiss goodbye while Thor scrunches up his face in confusion at your joke. Oh, well. Maybe he’d understand Midgardian humor one day.

*

Thunder rages outside your window while you toss and turn. You roll over to glance at your clock, and scowl when it flashes “3AM.” Giving up on the prospect of sleep, you opt for creeping to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your bare feet pad down the carpet, and you shiver slightly at the cold air of the hall. Goosebumps rise on your bare legs and you start to regret your decision not to put on pants.

To get to the kitchen, you have to walk through the common area, and for a moment you linger just outside the entryway. There’s a soft glow coming from the corner of the room, and you mentally groan, hoping it’s one of the female inhabitants of the compound. You weren’t too excited at the idea of walking past one of the guys in just a sleep shirt and underwear. Still, your mission for food is not one you’re willing to give up on. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the hallway and into the room. And nearly pass out.

Across the room, perched in one of the loveseats, is Loki. He’s sitting with his legs curled underneath him, thumbing through a book. You consider darting back into the safety of the hall, but you’re too late. Loki has already noticed you, and is now staring far too intently for your liking. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you tug on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it further down your legs. “Sorry to disturb you,” you whisper, afraid to break the deafening silence. Loki raises an eyebrow at you, then turns back to his book. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed when his gaze leaves you.

Not wanting to linger in the entryway any longer, you make your way across the room, keeping your eyes down. As you pass Loki, a loud clap of thunder booms outside, and already being on edge, you yelp. Startled from the deafening sound in an otherwise quiet room, you stagger, falling backwards onto the loveseat. Right next to Loki. The sofa is small, and in your splayed out position, you’re almost half on top of the god.

Loki flinches away, and you immediately begin to apologize. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I guess I just lost my footing. Did I hurt you?” As you talk, you push yourself off of Loki and cower into the other side of the loveseat. Some more rational part of your brain urges you to get up, give him some more space, but you don’t listen. As embarrassed as you are, you’re not quite ready to give up this closeness to the object of your affection.

With a huff, Loki straightens himself and gives you a cool look. “You did not hurt me, mortal. I was simply surprised.” Then, having composed himself, he smirks and sets his book on the end table beside him. “I suppose it is only natural to have weak knees in the presence of a god.”

The comment lightens the mood, and you find yourself relaxing next to him. “You’re right, Thor’s thunder does make me a tad unsteady.”

At that, Loki stiffens, obviously having not expected you to return his teasing. For a brief moment, you feel proud. Then, something changes in his expression, and he scoots closer to you. His hand finds your bare thigh, and the contact sends butterflies through your stomach. Loki senses your restlessness and gives you a predatory grin. “Is that so? Are you telling me that this,” he squeezes your thigh, and you gasp. “Doesn’t make you feel...faint?” His voice is low, and he almost purrs the last few words.

You fight hard to keep your breathing even, not wanting to give away just how flustered you are. The heavy weight of his hand feels heavenly, and you can feel your panties grow damp. God, you hope he can’t smell it.

This predatory tone is so much different than the playful teasing that you usually receive from Loki. You’ve never seen his blue eyes so dark, and the unfamiliarity of it all tightens your stomach.

Taking your silence as a challenge, Loki presses himself even closer to you. His fingers creep up your leg, closer to your underwear. “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”

Fuck. A full body shiver skates across your skin, and despite your best efforts, a small moan breaks free from your throat. Loki’s hand feels like a brand on your thigh, sending waves of heat up your body. The warmth pools between your legs, and you can’t help but shift a bit. Knowing that your panties are the only barrier between your soaking heat and the sofa, you arch your hips ever so slightly to keep from soiling the cushion.

Of course, your small movements don’t go unnoticed. Loki’s eyes are hooded as they rake across your bare legs, and you can hear his breathing get a bit heavier. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. “Oh, pet, look at you. Barely even touched, and already-”

He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall, headed in your direction. Loki curses softly and reluctantly draws his hand away, then moves as far away as the small sofa allows. Your skin aches at the loss of contact.

The interrupting stranger’s footsteps approach the entrance to the common room, then carry on past. You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, thankful that you wouldn’t have to explain anything. Something tells you that, while there’s nothing going on now, sitting with Loki in the middle of the night might raise a few eyebrows.

You and Loki are alone again, but the moment has passed. Whatever spell that had overcome the two of you is gone, and all that’s left is a quiet room and a dim light. “I apologize, I believe I have overstepped,” Loki says, and for the first time, he sounds...unsure. His voice has lost that arrogant confidence that it normally carries, and he sounds like a child that has just been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You bite your lip and risk a glance at Loki. He’s still pressed against the opposite arm of the loveseat, and is avoiding your eyes. Without the atmosphere of desire from before, now you just feel...awkward. Sighing softly, you rise to your feet and make your way to the hallway. You pause briefly in the entryway, and breathe out a “goodnight, Loki.” You don’t wait for a response, instead turning and trudging back towards your room.

As you flop back down in bed, you replay the night’s events over in your mind. It almost feels like a dream, and you’re having trouble believing that Loki, the God of Mischief, had actually come on to you. It didn’t seem plausible. You’re just a plain mortal, nothing special, no powers. Sure, your combat skills could rival Natasha’s, but besides that, you can’t find anything about yourself that would attract a god.

Eventually, you decide that maybe Loki was just horny, and you were in the right place at the right time. You did walk out without pants on, after all. No matter the reasoning, you know not to expect a repeat occurrence, given how regretful he had seemed afterwards. Tears brim in your eyes as the reality of the situation hits you; Loki regrets touching you. It seems that your crush was one-sided, and even though you weren’t surprised, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

*

Things are tense around the compound. You creep around corners, terrified of accidentally finding yourself in the same room as Loki. And it seems that Loki is taking the same precautions, because you haven’t even seen a glimpse of him since that night. The ache in your heart from his rejection still keeps you up at night, and you still find yourself pining over him like a lovesick idiot.

Ever the observer, Natasha catches on quickly. “Are you really still embarrassed about bumping into Loki?” She asks after cornering you in the kitchen. “You’re not acting like yourself, and it is beyond obvious something is bothering you.”

You groan at her around a mouthful of a granola bar. “Are you really still thinking about it?” You counter.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s hard to pretend it didn’t happen when you’re playing this stupid cat and mouse game. I see you check every room for him, I can’t believe you even care that much. He barely even touched you!”

A piece of your snack shoots down your throat with your gasp. You double over, wheezing and coughing. Natasha slaps a hand on your back, sighing. When you finally catch your breath, you glare at Nat. “Yeah, maybe that’s the issue.”

You immediately regret your words as a fire lights itself in Natasha’s eyes. “Want me to help?”

“Nat, hold on. No thanks-”

“Shush, trust me!” To your dismay, Natasha is already on her way out of the kitchen when she finishes hushing you. You whimper out a half-baked protest, but your friend is long gone by the time the words leave your mouth. Fuck, you’re so screwed.

LIfe  was very quickly becoming a stressful game of hide and seek. You’d resorted to spending most of the day in your room, hoping to avoid Loki, and more importantly, Natasha. You’re not sure what she has planned, but it can’t be anything good. As weeks pass by with no incident, however, you begin to drop your guard. Maybe she’s taking pity on you.

It’s around noon when you get the text. It’s an all caps message from Nat, pleading with you to at least hear her out before saying no.

That’s a terrifying text. I’m listening.

Nat: I may have bragged my way into a drinking contest with Thor, and I need a teammate to make it fair.

You want to try and outdrink Thor????

Nat: I want US to outdrink him. I convinced him that it’d be more balanced if it was 2 to 1.

You owe me.

Nat: :)

It was a terrible idea, but maybe a nice night of getting hammered is just what you need to break you out of your funk. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting excited. You hadn’t really relaxed in ages, this would be a good thing.

As the hours pass, you start to get nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten properly drunk, and you seriously doubt you’ll be able to keep up with even Natasha. Still, a promise is a promise, and you have far too much pride to chicken out now.

The clock reaches nine o’clock, and you sigh. Showtime. Before leaving your suite, you set several glasses of water and a bottle of Advil on your nightstand. If you’re going to fuck over your future self, you might as well try to ease her pain. You take a deep breath and spare a glance over at the mirror against your bedroom wall. You had opted for something comfy, but cute; an emerald green dress that stopped just above your mid-thigh, and fell off of one shoulder effortlessly.

Okay, so maybe you had wanted to get a tiny bit dressed up. You’re sure Nat will tease you for it, but sometimes a girl just wants to feel pretty.

A bit breathless from those pre-competition nerves--yes, a drinking contest was that serious--you make your way to the kitchen. As you round the corner, you stop dead in your tracks. Sitting at the bar Tony had insisted on installing, is Nat and Thor, of course. But next to them, perched delicately on one of the stools, is Loki. He wears a look of disdain, as if this entire competition is beneath him. You hope he can’t tell how badly you want to be beneath him.

Natasha gives you a wicked grin as Thor waves you over, his smile far more innocent-looking than Nat’s, though you’re sure he had a part in this. Cursing your terrible friends under your breath, and yourself for falling for it, you trudge over. Naturally, the only stool left is the one on the end, directly next to Loki. You gingerly hoist yourself up and slide onto the seat.

You stubbornly keep your eyes on the counter, not daring to even glance up at Loki. It’s obvious from the way he’s angling himself away from you and towards his brother that he’s regretting that night, and doesn’t want to be near you. You don’t blame him, humans must seem like animals compared to gods. The reality is that you were a mistake to him, and you just needed to accept that and move past.

Breaking the awkward silence, Thor produces a jug of what looks like beer from god knows where. He grins and gestures to it grandly. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Hold up! I thought this was two against one? Loki being here makes it unfair.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah, I may have bent the truth to get you to come out. It’s teams of two, but we have a handicap. Our drinks and shots count as twice the actual amount, and they’ll be drinking Asgardian mead. So,” She smirks. “No more complaints, let’s do this shit.”

You swallow nervously at the mention of shots. You could hold your liquor fairly well, but you and shots had...history. Nat knew how touchy you got when you were drunk, and how much of an oversharer you tended to be. Though you have to admit that her plan is almost flawless, you’re still unimpressed with her shenanigans. She’s pretty much set you up to embarrass yourself.

You twiddle your thumbs in your seat as Natasha grabs a bottle of Svedka from behind the bar and begins to pour the beginning drinks. Following her lead, Thor pops open his jug and splits it between two large glasses, then passes one to Loki, who sighs in apparent boredom. He shoots you an unreadable look, then grabs one of the shot glasses that Natasha filled and slides it your way.

With a mumbled “thanks,’ you gingerly take the glass, and look at Nat and Thor. Thor raises his glass. “May the better warriors win!” He announces, then tips back his glass. You roll your eyes at the word choice, but bring the shot glass to your lips and throw your head back. The liquor goes down rough, but you manage to keep your poker face and grit your teeth against any retches.

“The lady can drink!” Thor bellows, wiping at his face.

You shrug, wanting the spotlight off of you. “Um, I went to college?”

Before Thor can question you, Natasha cuts in. “Hello? I took it just as well, where’s my applause?”

“Natasha, you are not a lady,” Loki deadpans. Nat glares and pours herself another shot in response, throwing back the second one just as easily as she had the first. She then points at you. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. Despite everything, Loki was still Loki, and he still had your heart. It seems that the tension between you and Loki dissolves after you laugh at his quip, and he relaxes his stiff posture.

You sigh in relief and reach for the bottle to refill your own glass. This time, it goes down easier. That is, until the burns travels past your stomach, right down to between your legs. You squirm in place at the unexpected burst of arousal. Still, you should have been ready for it. Alcohol has always gotten you a little worked up. It was your mistake to believe you could fight it.

Despite the setback, you keep up with your teammate as the night goes on. Shot after shot, broken up by the easy conversation that emerges as the liquor continues to flow.

You’re not sure when the competition was forgotten, but you soon find yourself splayed on the couch next to Loki, laughing hysterically at some story he’s just finished telling about Thor in his youth. You look over at him, hazily trying to center your double vision to properly admire the god. His cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, and he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

Loki glances over, catching you staring, but you’re far too intoxicated to be embarrassed. Instead, you hold your gaze, waiting for a reaction. Loki smirks, then eyes his brother with annoyance.

“Brother,” he says, voice a lazy drawl. “I believe we’ve won this contest, wouldn’t you say?”

Thor cocks his head, then widens his eyes in understanding. “Oh, certainly! In fact, I think it would be necessary for me to walk you back to your quarters, Natasha.”

Natasha begins to protest, but it dies on her lips as her gaze flickers between you and Loki. “What a gentleman,” she purrs, only swaying slightly when she rises from her seat. “Lead the way.” Taking his outstretched hand, Natasha stumbles down the hall with Thor, giggling excitedly.

Now that it’s just the two of you, you expect things to get awkward, but find that you’re still just as comfortable. “Well, I guess I have to bow to the drinking champ,” you slur, sitting up to give a half hearted bow.

Loki throws his head back and laughs. “You,” he manages between snorts, “are far more fun to be around than most others on this planet.”

You scoff and wave your hand dismissively. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I bowed to you.” Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift back over to Loki. In your drunken haze, he just looks so...comfy. Before you realize what you’re doing, you slide over to lean up against him. Loki’s surprisingly warm, and you sigh contentedly, letting your mind wander back to how his hand felt running up your thigh.

The arousal from earlier that you had forgotten about rears its head, turning your sigh into a shaky exhale that is not at all subtle. The air feels thick, just like it had on that one stormy night, and you press yourself closer to Loki, unable to resist how good his body feels against yours.

Loki freezes for a moment, then seems to force himself to relax into you. His arm snakes around you until he’s holding you comfortably against his side. For one brief moment, you start to wonder if this is a good idea, given how things had ended in the past, but the intoxicated part of your brain tells the sober part to go fuck herself, and then you’re speaking without thinking. “Do you want to walk me to bed?”

Oh, shit. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. A wave of sobering panic hits you, and you untangle yourself from Loki and shoot up from the couch. Before you can flee, however, a pale hand grabs hold of your arm, stopping you in place.

Loki gets up, then moves his grip from your wrist to your hand. “I think that is a lovely idea. Allow me?” With the hand that isn’t holding yours, he gestures toward the hall. Well, that was unexpected. You try not to giggle in child-like excitement, and instead nod hurriedly.

Your heart speeds up at the feel of his hand in yours, and you start off down the hall, letting Loki pull you towards your suite. Caught up in trying to navigate the titling floor, you don’t notice that you’re being led the wrong way until the two of you come to a stop at a door that definitely does not belong to you. You look up at Loki in confusion. “This isn’t my room.”

“I know,” Loki growls, then opens the door and whirls you both inside. When you’ve recovered from the swift movement, you manage to pull away from Loki’s grip.

“What-what’s going on?” You say, attempting to sound stern. Loki stalks towards you. Instinctively, you back up, until you’re pressed against the wall with Loki boxing you in.

Loki presses his hands to the wall on either side of your head and sneers at you. “What’s going on?” He mocks. “I’ve craved your body under mine since long before our little nighttime meeting, and I have run out of patience for games.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, grazing you with his teeth. Just like before, his playfulness has given way to a domineering aura, but you’re not complaining one bit.

You barely suppress a full body shiver. “But,” you protest weakly. “I, I thought you regretted it. I mean, you never said anything about it, so I figured...oh…” you trail off into a soft moan as Loki roughly licks up the side of your neck, growling.

“And when would I have gotten the chance?” Loki pulls away from his assault on your skin to look you in the eyes. “You have been avoiding me for nearly a month.” Those blue eyes are staring daggers at you, and you realize that there’s hurt behind all that frustration.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s right, but the eye contact from his smoldering stare is making you forget how to speak. Fumbling with your words, you cast your gaze downwards. “Yeah, I guess I have. But with what you said after we were interrupted....I thought you were uncomfortable with what happened.”

A dark chuckle spills from Loki’s lips. “The only discomfort you have caused me is the nights I have spent spilling over my own hand because I could not have you. ”

You gasp softly as Loki’s words send a wave of heat through your overheated body. Loki takes that as encouragement, and presses himself closer until his lips are grazing yours. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he mumbles, eyes hooded.

Your response is to surge forward, hands flying to the back of his head as you roughly pull him in to kiss you. You both groan at the contact. The kiss is anything but gentle; your fingers are tangled in Loki’s hair, tugging harshly, and you can feel his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. It was far better than you could have imagined, and the dizzying pleasure of it all has you feeling drunker and more sober at the same time.

Before long, the room spins as Loki lifts you and hoists your legs around his waist. He kisses you breathless as he walks slowly down the hall towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. There’s a giddy part inside of you that squeals with excitement at being carried like that, but it’s quickly overshadowed by lust as you and Loki reach his bedroom. He tosses you onto his king sized bed like a doll, then kneels on the floor and yanks your ankles until your bottom is almost hanging off the bed.

Loki slides your dress up and nuzzles the inside of your thigh. “I could smell your arousal the entire night,” he says, nearly purring. “May I taste?”

You sit up on your elbows and stare down at him, face flushed with mild embarrassment at his face so close to your soaked panties. Dumbly, you nod, words failing you. Loki growls his appreciation and hikes up your dress, taking a brief moment to admire the soft fabric. “You look absolutely ravishing in green, I’ve wanted to tear this off of you since the moment I laid eyes on it.” And then he’s sliding your panties down your legs and plunging his tongue into your heat.

A ragged gasp tears its way from your throat and you throw your head back. You feel the grin form on Loki’s lips against your skin, and a fresh gush of arousal flows down your thighs. Loki eats pussy like it’s an art form he’s been perfecting for ages. His lips tug at your pussy, worshipping every fold like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You open your mouth to make some joke about his silvertongue, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as Loki drags his teeth lightly across your clit.

It isn’t long before the pleasure reaches its peak.You fight hard to keep your legs from clamping around Loki’s head, but you can’t help it when you crest over the edge of orgasm. Your muscles lock up, your back arches, and you scream. White hot euphoria explodes from your core, spreading through your body like venom. Loki’s tongue works you through it, slowing to wide, long strokes as you begin to come down.

You’ve barely recovered when Loki rises from his knees and crawls up your body, coming to a stop when his face is inches from yours. His eyes are hooded, and his glistening lips are parted to allow frantic, heated pants to escape. “Pet,” he hisses, leaning down to nuzzle into your shoulder. “You taste sweeter than the fruits of Asgard.” He bites at your collarbone, making you shudder in your post-orgasmic haze.

Still out of it, you sluggishly fumble at Loki’s belt. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” you mumble and lick your lips. Loki bats your hand away, shushing you.

“Darling, there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to feel you.” He grabs your shoulders and drags you up to the pillows, so that you’re lying comfortably on your back with him hovering above you.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of ‘later.’ So this wasn’t just a one-night stand? You don’t have time to process that, however, as Loki barely gives you a moment to breathe. He sits back on his knees, straddling your waist, and with a wave of his hand, you’re both stark naked. Your hands twitch, wanting to cover yourself. Being naked in front of an attractive man has always intimidated you, but the fact that Loki was a god made it worse. As if sensing your sudden shyness, Loki leans in to kiss at lick at your breasts, and brings his hands up to pin your wrists to the bed. You sigh in pleasure, insecurity fading with every hot swipe of his tongue, not even wanting to struggle against his hold.

Loki lowers himself to grind against you. His hard cock slides against your dripping folds as his narrow hips press into yours. Both of you shiver, and you arch your hips to bring him closer. Loki growls against your skin and sits up. He lets go of your wrists, roughly grabs your waist and angles it to meet his. “Ready, pet? I can’t wait, I need to have you.” he breathes, eyes locked on yours.

Like a deer in the headlights, you’re frozen, anticipation coiling tightly under your skin. Slowly, you nod. Loki wastes no time. He smirks, then slides himself into you, the stretch burning in the loveliest way. Your heated groan mingles with his, and when Loki’s hips come to rest against yours, he falls against your chest, panting. You appreciate the time he gives you to adjust; Loki’s cock is thick, and longer than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can feel it throbbing desperately within you. Now that he’s released your hands, you bring them up to thread through his soft, black hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, nearly purring.

“Tell me when, love,” Loki grits out, fighting to keep his voice steady. The shakiness in his usually smooth tone is arousing to no end, and you can feel yourself clench around him in approval. Loki’s hips twitch at the fluttering of your walls, and though you’re more than ready, you decide to torture him a bit longer.

You bring your legs up to wrap around Loki’s  waist, pulling him closer. He shivers, but keeps his composure, remaining almost statue still. His concern for your comfort makes your heart swell, but you want to see him lose control. “You’re so big,” you whimper out, the alcohol in your system quelling the embarrassment you’d usually feel when talking dirty. You press your face into Loki’s neck, grazing your teeth along the pale skin there.

With a deep growl of barely kept composure, Loki rises up to rest on his elbows, desperate eyes searching yours. It seems that being the God of Lies gave Loki the ability to see through your cruel game, and his expression turns dark, though the neediness is still blatant. You shift nervously as he stares you down, already regretting your mischievousness. “Feeling playful, are we?” Loki asks.

Your mouth goes dry at being caught and your core tightens around him again, earning you a flutter of his eyelids. “I…” you trail off, eyes drifting to Loki’s parted lips. Watching you gaze, Loki grins at you.

“Oh, pet. I think you may be confused. You are mine to toy with, not the other way around.” With that, Loki leans down to crush his lips into yours. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you whine around it. While his tongue’s distracting you, Loki takes his chance to begin pounding into you at a ruthless pace, and you break away from the kiss to throw your head back and shriek out a moan.

You feel utterly wrecked, stomach clenching and nerves alight with pleasure as Loki continues his assault on your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut, so his teeth nipping at your jaw come as a surprise, sending a whole new shockwave of sensation down your neck.

“You feel so fucking good, pet,” Loki moans, his voice quickly losing its characteristic steadyness. He sighs out something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and brings one of his hands down to toy with your clit. Your legs tighten around him involuntarily. “A-ah, fuck,” Loki grits out, increasing his pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and the unhuman speed at which Loki’s pounding into you leaves you no time to catch your breath. Moans and whines erupt from your mouth in a constant stream, and Loki keeps his mouth hovering above yours to drink them in. “I wanna cum,” you whimper as Loki’s assault on your senses continues.

“Then cum, pet,” Loki groans, hips stuttering. “ Cum for your god.”

You keen, writhing and chasing your high. As you climb up to your orgasm, you are met with a startling realization that Loki has already ruined you for anyone else. No human man could match the fire that he’s set upon your nerves, the blinding pleasure that mounts with every thrust and kiss. With that settling into your mind, you finally reach your second peak of the night.

Your eyes try to flutter shut, tears brimming at the corners as you wail Loki’s name again and again. Through the haze of your climax, you notice Loki’s muscles begin to tense as he nears his orgasm as well, and you force your eyes to stay open in order to watch him come apart.

Watching Loki cum is almost like a second climax. He speeds up impossibly, mouth hanging open and eyes barely able to stay focused on you. “You’re mine,” he growls out. Choked moans fall from his lips as he nears the edge, and you rake your nails down his back to encourage him.

“Cum in me, please, I need it, make me yours” you ramble breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck, I-I’m so close,” Loki manages, voice breaking. You continue to coo pleas and encouragements at him, and the way his eyes roll back at your wrecked voice gives you an intoxicating rush of pride. Finally, with a whimpering moan, Loki stills, cock pulsing within you and hips twitching as he pumps you full of his cum.

Loki slumps against you, still moving in aborted little thrusts, as if he can’t quite stop fucking you just yet. The weight of him on top of you is heavy, but not unwelcome, and you take the time to bask in the euphoria of having just slept with the god you’d pined after for so long.

“That was…” you start, words failing you.

“Divine,” Loki finishes for you. He slides his cock out of your pussy, and with it comes a gush of warm cum that you’re sure will stain the sheets. He rolls off of you, then guides you onto your side so that he can pull you up against him.

You weren’t expecting Loki to be the ‘cuddling after sex,’ type, so having him spoon you was surprising, to say the least. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you find yourself wanting to fall asleep like that; comfortable in his bed and safe in his strong arms.

Still, there’s a nagging question that won’t let you fully relax. Not wanting to expect too much, you brace yourself for the worst and open your mouth to speak. “Loki...what does this mean for us?”

Loki tenses behind you, and your heart breaks at the assumed rejection as he begins to pull away. “Are you...are you not mine? I thought this was-I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. Forgive me.”

This time, your heart breaks for a different reason. Loki sounds so hurt, so unsure of everything, and you can hear a scared little boy behind that velvet voice. “No!” You nearly shout, turning around to pull him back to you. “I want to be yours, I promise,” you say as you tug Loki back into your arms, running a soothing hand down his back. “I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted.”

The relief in Loki is visible as he relaxes into you. “Love, I am yours as much as you are mine, do not doubt that.”

The pet name brings a smile to your lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply happily. Heart full, you roll back over so that Loki can snuggle into you again, and finally let your drowsiness overtake you. You catch a faint, ‘I love you,’ just before you drift off to sleep, and though it could just be your mind playing tricks on you, you know that you love him, too.

[cherienymphe]

Lies Untold (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, jealous!Sherlock 

!!! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !!!

➥ {page breaks done by @firefly-graphics​ }

summary: Sherlock Holmes is the love of your life, and convinced that you will never get your happily ever after with him, you make a decision that does more harm than good

~

Your morning started like every other. You were briefly woken up by the feel of your husband’s lips on your face, his smooth voice greeting you before moving onto your daughter in her crib. You drifted back to sleep just as he shut the door, making his way downstairs to open up the inn for the day. When you woke up for the final time, it felt like hours later, but in reality, it could have only been minutes.

You breastfed your daughter almost immediately after you woke up, the two of you somehow always waking up together. You went downstairs for breakfast as soon as she was fast asleep again, greeting your husband with a kiss as you met in the kitchen. The day went by slow, the last guest leaving the inn sometime in the early evening. It was late in the night, almost time for you to retire when the bell above the door rang.

A guest had arrived.

Your husband was on the third floor where you all resided, tending to your daughter no doubt while you manned the first floor. You were fooling with something behind the counter, head bent down as their heavy steps reached your ears.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” you told them.

They did not reply, but you knew they heard you. You rose, straightening your dress as you lifted your eyes to greet the only guest for the night. As soon as your eyes met a familiar blue, you froze, feeling as if you had been struck by lightning.

He looked the same as ever. Perhaps even more handsome now, and you cursed yourself for thinking such a thought when your husband was just upstairs. He looked just as stunned to see you, reaching up to adjust his dark suit as he cleared his throat. His hair was a bit longer since the last time you saw him, an errant curl hanging onto his forehead, and you suddenly realized that you had been holding your breath.

“Mr. Holmes,” you breathed, chest burning a bit from the lack of oxygen. “Just you?”

He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a scoff, lips quirking upwards.

“Mr. Holmes?”

You swallowed, uncomfortably shifting on your feet. He stepped up to the counter, that teasing smile on his pink lips, one you did not return.

“A little formal for old friends, is it not?”

Your shoulders sagged as you released a small sigh.

“No, you…you are right. It’s just been a while since I’ve last seen you,” you told him. “I was caught off guard.”

It was the truth. Honestly, you had hoped to never see Sherlock again. Not if you could help it.

“So, you run an inn now…”

You briefly glanced at him as you searched for a key, nodding.

“I do.”

“I had not realized. The name…it was unfamiliar to me,” he said.

Your hand tightened around the key, and you avoided his eye, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“It’s my husband’s name,” you murmured.

You swore that you could hear his breath hitch, and it seemed to get unbelievably quiet. Against your better judgement, you looked to him, finding his blue eyes just a tad darker. His face always looked pinched, like he was constantly overthinking, but this was more than that. He looked positively floored. Were you the first person to have thrown the great Sherlock Holmes for a loop? Had circumstances been different, you would have felt proud.

Before either of you could say anything else, your husband’s footsteps on the stairs reached your ears. You turned to him with a strained smile just as he neared, and he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Mr. Holmes,” your husband greeted jovially. “What a pleasure! Will it be just you then?”

“Indeed,” the dark-haired man hummed, and although you were no longer looking at him, you could feel his eyes on you.

“The last guest checked out hours ago, so the whole inn will be nice and quiet for whatever work you need to do. That is, provided our daughter sleeps through the night,” he jested.

Your eyes widened, having had no intentions of mentioning that to your guest…ever. You did not dare look at him and overwhelmed with the emotions that seeing him brought on, you clutched your stomach, feigning sick as you stepped back.

“I’ve grown a bit weary. I think I will call it a night,” you told your husband.

His face twisted with concern, and you felt a tad guilty, but your uneasiness from Sherlock’s hard stare was more pressing. Your husband, the sweetheart that he was, placed a hand on your back as he ushered you towards the stairs.

“Of course, dear. You only had the baby months ago, you should not be up on your feet so much, anyway,” he quietly told you, sending you off with a kiss on the cheek.

You slowly took the stairs, hearing him continue his conversation with the man you had hoped to never see again. Your legs shook with every step, and the more you blinked, the faster the tears collected in your eyes. Despite the fact that your husband had yet to cease his rambling, you could still feel Sherlock’s gaze on your back as hot as it always was. As it always had been.

Relief did not find you even all the way up on the third floor. You pressed your back to the door as soon as you made it to your bedroom, and you swallowed hard, fighting to hold in a scream. You had forced yourself to make peace with the everything, with your own decisions. You never thought that you would be able to, but you did, and right when you seemed to be okay, the man who had caused it all slithered back into your life, his presence mocking you.

A soft gurgle from the crib reached your ears, and you pushed yourself away from the door, reminding yourself that it was not just you anymore. Her face was twisted in discomfort, features only smoothing out when you took her into your arms. The mattress creaked under your weight as you sat down, making yourself comfortable with your back to the headboard. Your knees were bent, your daughter resting against your legs as you both stared at one another. Her tiny hand wrapped around your finger, and your heart clenched as you stared into her eyes, a familiar shade of blue staring back at you.

You avoided leaving your room as much as you could. Your husband was the one who mostly dealt with the inn anyway, but you had enjoyed greeting and interacting with the guests. Until recently. Oddly enough, Sherlock was your only guest for the next two days, and you wondered if you were cursed. There were no other guests to tend to, no other guests to distract you, and you could not feign ill forever. You regularly interacted with the guests, and your husband would start to find your behavior odd.

You had genuinely thought you’d never see the famous detective again. You had fought to marry someone as far away from your hometown as you possibly could, determined to distance yourself as much as you could from the place you had both grown up in. Not only to avoid ever seeing him again, but also because it was far too painful. How funny it was to think that if you had stayed, you probably would have achieved what you set out to do.

It was the third day since he had checked into the inn, and unable to sleep in the early hours of the morning, you opted for getting an early start on breakfast. Your husband and daughter were still fast asleep, and perhaps you could be done before your only guest arose. You had no idea what case he was in town for. You had made it a habit to avoid the papers, and perhaps that was why you had been blindsided by his sudden appearance.

You had only been in the kitchen for a matter of minutes when the subject of your thoughts joined you.

You paused in what you were doing, not expecting him while he, on the other hand, seemed to have been waiting up for you. He was dressed as nicely as always, and that pensive look that he always seemed to sport was replaced by a troubled one. You watched as his hand flexed, and you were reminded how they had felt on you once. Forcing those thoughts from your mind, you gathered yourself.

“Mr. Holmes,” you greeted. “Breakfast will be a while.”

You both knew that he had not come down for food, but you turned away from him anyway to continue your work. It was quiet for a while as he stood there, watching you work. He was making you nervous, like always, and it was only when you realized that you were making no progress did he finally speak.

“You are married now.”

You paused, swallowing with a heavy chest. It was not a question. Not even really a statement, but more like an accusation. With a heavy sigh, you turned your head, barely looking over your shoulder at him as you rested your hands on the table.

“Did you think I was going to wait for you forever?”

You were met with silence, and you shook your head.

“You knew how I felt about you,” you said, kneading the dough. “How I felt since we were mere children. A woman does not have the luxury of keeping her options open. Decisions had to be made.”

You heard him step closer, and you visibly winced, shoulders tensing up.

“Do you love him?”

You frowned, spinning around to face him, chest clenching as your insides twisted.

“What kind of question is that?”

“One you have yet to answer,” he murmured, taking another step towards you.

You scoffed.

“My husband is kind and selfless and he is positively crazy about me. I would be silly not to love him,” you replied.

The blue-eyed man before you threw you a crooked smile, but it lacked humor.

“You still did not answer the question.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked away.

“What does it matter to you?”

“He says the two of you have been married for a year. The last time I saw you was a little over a year ago... How quickly you-.”

“You do not get to do that, Sherlock Holmes,” you snapped, fighting to keep your voice low.

You cursed yourself for the way your voice cracked, and you frantically blinked away tears. You stumbled back when he took another step towards you, bumping into the table in the process.

“I did nothing but wait around for you for years while you ran off solving case after case and made a name for yourself. I never faulted you for that…just myself for being so incredibly stupid…”

Your eyes met his again, surprised to see anger in them because you could not remember a time the man had ever been angry. It was alright with you though. You were angry too.

“I never once hid my feelings for you…and it got to a point where I could no longer wait for you to do something about it. Something legitimate anyway,” you quietly added.

Having grown up with the man, it was hard not to fall for his intellect, his looks. He was always polite to you, and you always looked at him like he hung the moon. You were not the only one though. You knew that you were one of the many. Your feelings for him had never been a secret, and his lack of reciprocity led you to believe that your love for the man would always be unrequited just like all the other girls. Until it wasn’t.

You could never pinpoint when it had happened, but he had kissed you one day, and it seemed that he could never bring himself to stop kissing you. Until of course, he had to leave again, leaving you behind to wait for his return…whenever that would be. For years this spanned. Spending days, weeks at the most, with him, wrapped up in each other both figuratively and literally until his profession pulled him away from you again and again. It broke your heart every time, but you told yourself that it would not be for naught. You told yourself that he just needed time.

You constantly told yourself that until the day you were out of time.

“Does he know?”

Some of the hardness in his eyes had seeped away, giving way to a fire that you knew all too well. With the table at the back of your legs, you realized that you had nowhere to go as he neared you. The man was always so big, and while you had appreciated that once, it only worried you now. He continued when you refused to respond.

“Does he know that you were mine before he even laid eyes on you?”

Your frown deepened, hating the way he talked about you, but you could not deny the way his words spoke to a part of you that you had tried so hard to bury.

“Does he know that you will always bear the mark of my touch? That your body will always remember the first who played it so well?”

“Stop,” you choked out. “You…you cannot do this.”

It was painful to hear him talk about how he had been your first. How you had given yourself to him wholeheartedly, sure that you would never regret it.

“Why not? Why can I not remind you that you are mine? That you will always be mine?”

He sounded pained, a first for him, and you realized that deep down past the possession and anger…Sherlock was hurt. Maybe all he really needed was time, but life had happened, and you had been forced to make decisions that you did not necessarily care for. Straightening yourself, you stared into his eyes, finding the reflection of you in them.

“…because I am not yours. Not anymore.”

You brushed past him before he could respond, determined to wipe your face and gather yourself before your husband woke up.

Another day passed, and then another, and Sherlock was still here. You had a sneaking suspicion that he was hanging around for more than just another case to solve. Your husband, none the wiser, was more than happy to entertain the renowned detective for as long as he needed. You, on the other hand, felt like you had died and gone straight to hell.

Sherlock’s presence brought up memories you would rather forget. His very face forced you to remember the decisions you had made to avoid a life of ruin, forced you to remember the lie you were currently living. You found yourself crying yourself to sleep now as much as you did in the beginning, and for that, you hated him. You just wanted him to leave and pray that you would never see him again.

The universe or God or whatever higher power controlled the puppet strings to your life had other plans.

It was late in the night when your daughter woke up out of her sleep. Your husband groaned next to you, but you whispered to him that you would deal with it. She did not seem to be hungry, so you took to walking throughout the inn to calm her. She liked that. You strolled up and down the stairs, through the entrance hall, the kitchen, any crevice of the building until she fell into a quiet hush, staring up at you as you hummed.

You were in the sitting room, swaying from side to side, hoping to rock her back to sleep. You loved her dearly, more than you loved yourself, but you loved your sleep almost as much. You cracked a small smile, watching as she ran her eyes over you before something behind you caught her attention. You felt him before you heard him, and you spun around to face the last person you wished to see.

His white shirt was rumpled, and you figured that he had inadvertently fallen asleep at some point. Your wide eyes were on him as he stood before you in all of his glory, and you absentmindedly tightened your hold on your daughter. Neither one of you said a word. You had nothing to say, but there did seem to be something weighing on his mind, although for some reason, he would not voice it. You found yourself eyeing the curls of his hair, his fair complexion and handsome bone structure. The top of his shirt was undone, a sliver of skin winking at you, and you sharply inhaled.

You were still very much in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Would you ever truly be free of him?

As your daughter squirmed in your arms, you were reminded that no, you would not. The man could leave tomorrow, and you could truly get your wish of never seeing him again, and you would still never be free. Her movements grabbed his attention, and as his eyes fell to the baby in your arms, you hated the way he looked at her.

As if he was studying her like one of his cases that needed to be solved.

However, with horror, you realized that he was studying her. You tried to shield her, backing away in the process, but he followed you. His dark brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he ran them over your daughter. When you passed through the moonlight, the glow catching her eyes, his face hardened, jaw ticking so violently you worried that he would break a tooth.

His eyes snapped to yours, and you could not even find it in yourself to look away. You were frozen. His lips parted, and you feared what he would say, but the sound of your husband’s steps descending the stairs saved you. In only a moment, Sherlock was on the other side of the room, and your husband was there, apologizing to the man if your daughter woke him up.

“Nonsense. I was already awake,” Sherlock told him, and you had a feeling that it was not a lie.

Still, your husband, the kind man that he was, continued to apologize, and you took the opportunity to escape. You could feel Sherlock’s gaze the entire time, fiery and oppressive, and it should not have come as a shock to wake up to him in your bedroom.

Yet somehow, it was.

You should have known something was off when you woke up feeling more well rested than you had in months. The familiar cry of your daughter, a noise that regularly roused you from sleep, was oddly absent. This was what made you realize why you had slept for so long. Upon realizing this, your body immediately filled with worry, and you sat up like the house was on fire.

However, you were not prepared for the hulking frame that was Sherlock Holmes to greet you. He stood by your daughter’s crib, and your heart dropped to your stomach as you slowly slid to the edge of the bed. You shakily reached for him, his name on your lips, and he turned around. You sharply inhaled at the sight of your daughter in his arms, the small thing looking so much smaller while being held in his bands of muscle.

“Give her to me…please,” you whispered.

You did not know why you wanted him away from her. He knew the truth, and as if reading your thoughts, he said:

“Why? Is it not within my rights to hold her? She is mine…is she not?”

His voice was venomous, eyes icy as he looked to you, and you flinched. You settled back down on the bed, shrinking in on yourself as he glared at you. You did not know what to say. What could you say? In the light of day, it was obvious more than ever who her true father was. Why on earth were you feeling guilty? You had no reason to.

“Does he know?” he suddenly asked you, voice low and softer now.

“Of course not,” you tearfully replied.

You hated lying to your husband, but choices had to be made to protect her, to give her a good life. Sherlock heaved a shaky sigh, and you twisted your hands into your nightdress.

“Where is he?”

“He’s gone to town…said he needed to get some things for the inn,” he answered.

You were somehow simultaneously relieved and terrified.

“Sherlock-.”

“So, this is why you married him,” he bitterly said. “This is why you rushed to take his name and forget me so easily.”

“You have no right,” you sneered, standing and rushing towards him.

He moved back, keeping her away from you, and you were tempted to stomp your foot like a child.

“You kept her from me,” he accused, blue eyes boring into your own, and your skin prickled under his cold stare.

“I would not expect you to understand,” you told him.

His handsome face twisted into something ugly, and he stepped towards you.

“Why did you not tell me?”

You sneered at him.

“When was I supposed to do that? I would see you what…3, maybe 4 times a year if I was lucky?”

“You could have written to me!”

She squirmed in his arms, making a noise of protest, and you reached out, shushing her, but again, he held her out of your reach. You clenched your hands into fists, chest aching as he forced you to talk about what you had done.

“…and how was I to find you? How was I to know you would receive my letter in time? You were gallivanting all over the country, Sherlock. I would have been showing by the time I waited for you to turn up.”

He at least had the decency to look a tad sheepish, and he glanced down at the baby in his arms.

“Of course, you do not get it. You are not a woman. I did not have time or options. Decisions had to be made for both me and my daughter’s sake, and unfortunately, they had to be made without you.”

He did not respond, and you watched the way he looked at her. When you had first found out, this was everything you had wanted. You had dreamed of him looking at her just like that, but then reality had set in and crushed those dreams. Reluctantly, he handed her back to you, and you pressed your lips to her forehead. You felt his large hand on the top of your head, and when you looked up, his eyes were on you.

“Leave with me,” he whispered.

Pain etched across your features, and you shook your head.

“I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. She is mine, not his, and you love me…not him.”

You did not acknowledge the fact that he saw right through you no matter how much you pretended otherwise. Again, you shook your head and backed away from him.

“I cannot do that to him. He is a good man, and he does not deserve that,” you told him.

Sherlock stepped towards you until his body heat was all you could feel, and you looked down, avoiding his eye.

“So, am I to leave? Never to see you again and just allow him to raise my daughter as his own? Forget about you?”

“Yes.”

You regretted it almost as soon as you said it, but what else could you do? Running away with him was not an option. People would talk. Ruin would follow your name, and anything between you and the man before you would not be legitimate. You had to think of your daughter first. Before he could say anything else, the sound of the front door opening reached your ears, and your wide eyes found his.

You did not say anything, but you silently begged him to do what you wanted. Sherlock looked as if he wanted to do the complete opposite of what you wanted, face troubled and brows furrowed, but eventually, he relented. Reluctantly, he stepped back and exited your room, slipping downstairs and into his own.

Sherlock stayed at your inn for a little over a week, only 2 other guests passing through in that time. When your husband was gone, you allowed him to hold your daughter, and you had no idea how much you would be affected by the sight of the burly man holding the doll sized child in his arms. You knew that it got harder and harder for him to hand her back to you, and you worried what would happen when it came time for him to leave.

She was currently with him now while you cleaned one of the rooms that a guest had stayed in. Your husband had gone to get ingredients for the kitchen, and you were relieved to be alone with your thoughts. Not once had you ever regretted your decisions, but now you were having second thoughts. You would love for your daughter to grow up with her real father in her life, but it just would not be possible. There were so many things that you wanted that were no longer possible. It was bittersweet, sure, but you were glad that Sherlock got to know her for a short time versus having never known her at all.

You had just stripped the bed, turning to get more sheets when you were startled by the man himself in the doorway. You pressed your hand to your chest, fighting to slow your heart as you curiously looked at him. Your brows furrowed as you looked for your daughter.

“She’s asleep,” he said, answering your silent question.

“Oh,” you responded, relieved. “Is something wrong?”

He pursed his lips, stepping into the room, and you blinked at him.

“I cannot do it,” he suddenly said, shaking his head.

Dread settled in your gut, but you pressed him for the answers that you already knew.

“What do you mean…?”

He neared you, and you leaned back a bit at his close proximity.

“You cannot ask this of me-.”

“Sherlock-.”

“I will not do it. I will not just walk away!”

“You have to-!”

“That is my daughter. That is our daughter. You expect me to just go on and pretend that she does not exist?”

You looked away from him, overwhelmed with panic as he wrapped his hands around your arms.

“You both will leave with me,” he whispered. “I will right my wrongs-.”

“I cannot-.”

“I do not care about him. He is nothing to me,” he sneered. “He is the man who has laid claim to something that does not belong to him.”

“I am not yours anymore!”

You both stared each other down, and you frowned when he pushed you back until you felt the wall behind you. His eyes were wild with so many emotions. Anger, pain, desperation, jealousy, and the one that was a constant when he was with you, hunger.

“You will always be mine,” he murmured, leaning in.

You turned your head away, and his lips met your cheek.

“You surrendered your body to me, and it has been mine ever since. I was the first to touch you…and I shall be the last.”

His lips found yours against your will, and with his hands on your arms, you could not push him away. You had forgotten what his lips felt like, what he tasted like, but none of that mattered because you were a married woman now. Sherlock was your past and that was where he needed to remain. You opened your mouth to tell him that, to protest, but he merely took the opportunity to reacquaint himself with the taste of your tongue.

He released you only to press his hands onto your hips, and you pushed against his chest. His moan told you that it had no effect, and your panic grew when he stepped back, pulling you with him. His hands were everywhere as you fought against him, and although your mind protested what was happening, your body, having been accustomed to his euphoric touch for so long, melted under the familiar ministrations.

He had you on your back in no time, tearing your dress off of you with ease. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, the man before you equal to that of a man starved, and his eyes and mouth and hands had one goal in mind and that was to get inside of you in any way possible.

“We cannot do this,” you gasped the minute he pulled away, but it was as if he did not hear you. “Sherlock!”

Your efforts to get him off of you only increased when you realized that he was almost as naked as you were. His lips tasted your neck and chest, and you sharply yelped when his teeth nipped at you.

“I have half a mind to mark your skin as you have marked my soul,” he whispered. “…to show that husband of yours what it truly means to claim you.”

You pressed your nails into his chest when he slid inside of you, hips meeting yours in a way that you had not felt for over a year. A satisfied moan left him, and you could not stop the way you clenched around his length, your body missing the feel of him. Still, you pushed against him, shaking your head with tear-filled eyes as he began to move. The next time you opened your mouth to protest, a choked moan came out instead, and you sunk your teeth into your lip.

“Feel the way you cling to me…the way your body loosens up to what it knows so well.”

He was right. He knew how to play your body like an instrument, knowing exactly what to do to make you sing, but that did not make it right. Your hands pushing against his shoulders and chest were of no use, and so you resorted to begging.

“Please…stop,” you pleaded in between breaths, but he merely shook his head.

“No,” he plainly said, hands greedily pressing into some of the baby weight that remained. “I have gone without you for far too long, and that is a mistake I will never make again.”

Your body was on fire from his thrusts, and you were hardly coherent enough o be having this conversation.

“You cannot just…you cannot just steal us away-.”

“I cannot steal what is rightfully mine,” he purred, wrapping his lips around a hardened bud.

Your lashes fluttered, and you dug your nails into his skin, pushing against him, but again, he was immoveable. Your vision was blurry from your tears now, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he completely fell over you, arms pressed into the bed beside your head, caging you in until all you could see and smell was him.

You reminded of your first time. It had been nighttime then, and he had ordered you to relax and take what pleasure he bestowed upon you. He had taken his time to figure out what your body liked and what your body loved, but he had been completely in control. Now seemed no different. Sherlock was once again completely in control of your body, forcing you to accept whatever pleasure he pushed onto you.

Someone could have entered the inn, looking for a place to stay, and you would not have known. Your husband could have long returned, and you would be none the wiser. He kissed you, a gentle action that was a far cry from his powerful thrusts, and you could taste your tears on his lips.

“I would have come running,” he suddenly whispered into your mouth. “The second I found out, I would have come for you.”

His eyes flitted between your terrified ones, and he continued.

“I would have made an honest woman out of you. I would have been by your side every step of the way.”

You shook your head, not wanting to hear what could have been.

“I would have loved to see you round and swollen with my daughter, but this is our second chance.”

You came around him before he soon followed, coating your insides with a groan, lips furiously covering your own. You were so conflicted. Your body felt more satisfied than it had been in a year, heart swelling at the thought of getting the future you really wanted, but you were so angry with him, angry with what he had just done to you.

You hit at him the minute he pulled out of you, sitting up and taking you with him. It was as if your hits did not phase him at all, and he merely shushed you, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into his chest.

“I will do the talking,” he started, pressing his lips into your hair, ignoring the way you cried and shook in his hold. “I will explain to him that I am taking back what is mine, and I will walk out of here with you and our daughter at my side, right where you belong.”

     ~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​​ @xoxabs88xox​​​ @harryspet​​​ @readermia​​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​ @nickyl316h​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​ @sebabestianstan101​​​ @villanellevi​​​ @lokislastlove​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​ @hurricanerin​​ @trinittyy​​ @hyoyeoniie​​ @kellyn1604​​ @sherrybaby14​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @mandiiblanche​ @gotnofucks​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @doozywoozy​ @sapphirescrolls​ @threeminutesoflife​ @searchforanotherway​

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Your riven imagine was amazing! Could write about the reactions of the winx and people in school, with a light fairy from earth being with him, please? Anyways, hope you're ok :)

Come back to me (part 1)

Pairing: Riven x reader

=================================

Ever since Rosalind officially took over Alfea, Y/N had felt her hope dwindling. She’s a light fairy, she thrives surrounded by good. The darkness surrounding her is exhausting, bleeding her dry of all positive emotions.

Belief is when there is no reason to hope, when despair sets in, and yet you hold fast to a certainty that it is worth seeking the light, even if you have never seen it.

“I’m not an asshole without a cause. Trust in me.”

Riven is what Y/N believes in. Despite her better judgement, she can’t help it - she does trust in him. Even though he’s gone down a darker path than she could have imagined.

Seeing Riven as Rosalind’s private guard had been tearing her apart, more so when she saw him locking lips with Beatrix.

‘We’re just friends’, she told herself in order to not hate him for his choices. She told herself all of this is for a reason. 

“Ugh, why are you staring at those two freaks”, Stella makes a fake gagging sound, drawing attention of Riven.

He glances at Stella, but his eyes are drawn to Y/N. Swallowing thickly, Riven felt his heart sink at the hurt flickering in her eyes. Exhaling through his nose, he locked eyes with Stella again, unable to bear the heaviness of Y/N’s gaze.

“What are you looking at?” Stella narrows her eyes, making Riven roll his eyes.

“I was about to ask you the same. You do know that beauty isn’t transmittable, right? Staring won’t help fix your face.”

Beatrix snickers at Riven’s snarky remark, enjoying the way Stella’s nostrils flare in rage she’s trying to contain. Y/N shakes her head, disappointed by his behavior.

Is there really any of the old Riven left inside that empty shell of his? He barely looks like the Riven she knew let alone anything else. 

“Really, Y/N? This is who you swore is the kindest guy you’ve ever known?” Bloom buts in, glaring at Riven.

“I can introduce you to someone so much better”, Aisha adds only making Y/N’s heart ache. 

She doesn’t want anyone else. She wants Riven. She wants the guy who’d hold her hand and tell her everything would be alright. She wants the guy who’d written her love notes and called her Sunshine. She wants the guy who made her smile with a single look, but that’s no longer possible. She sees that now.

Blinking fast, her teeth sink into the soft flesh of her bottom lip before she turns around, rushing off to find a moment alone. She needs a place where she can heave, let out the panic of her realization pass through before she loses control and blinds half the school. 

She can feel her heartbeat in her throat as tears rush to her eyes. She was his Sunshine, a ray of light capable of shining through the darkness. She doesn’t feel very light and bright anymore. She feels empty and she feels angry and hopeless and bitter about losing him.

After the storms the sunshine returns, and crying is much the same, so she lets it out, she lets it go. She must.

“Sunshine?” A breathless voice freezes her in place with her hand on her chest.

Looking over her shoulder, she finds the perpetrator of her deepest pain.

“There was hope before. Just a tiny flicker.” Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she sniffles. “Who are you now?” 

“I’m still me. I’m still your Riv.” He steps closer but Y/N recoils.

“You’re not the Riv I know. And you’re certainly not mine.” She can still see his hands all over Beatrix and the flashback makes her sick to her stomach. 

“I’ve always been yours, Sunshine.” Riven’s voice breaks and Y/N holds her breath with the sound cracking her sanity.

“How is it you see the suffering and choose to make it all the worse?” Sitting down, she covers her quivering lips.

“I’m not trying to make it worse, I swear”, Riven falls to his knees before her, reluctant to touch her. If he saw her recoil from his touch once again, it would kill him. They were never more than friends, but they were more together than couples who actually dated.

“Trust me”, Riven pleads, his fingers shaking as they make contact with her knees. He lets out a relieved sigh once she allows his hands to rest there.

“Trust goes both ways, Riv”, Y/N looks down to his hands, aching to take them in hers yet she can’t. She’s been itching to hold his hands for a long time now, but that would only give way for more heartbreak.

“I’m the inside man”, Riv admits and Y/N’s eyes widen. “I’m trying to find a way to take them down and get Silva out of prison. Sky knows this. Only Sky.” Shaking his head, Riv sighs, “And now you. No one else can be included, Sunshine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me from the start?” She leans in, her breath tickling his lips as their foreheads meet and they close their eyes. The intensity of the moment set them aflame for they’ve never allowed each other the luxury of such intimate touches. Not in a sexual manner, although Riven wanted her in every way, but in a way where the sound of her voice was enough to make his heart flutter. And he never had his heart flutter.

“I told you to trust me.” Riv defends, making her smile.

“You’re an asshole”, she whispers. She can’t help but wonder if he’ll kiss her, finally. The anticipation is mirrored in her shaky lips and she knows she’s so unprepared, but she longs for him. 

“I’m your asshole”, Riven’s nose brushes hers and her heart skips at the notion.

Riven’s hand found the back of her neck, quickly pulling her closer until their lips touched and the words ceased. The kiss barely lasted, managing to take their breaths away in an instant. Y/N surrendered to his touch, losing her senses as his lips brought her heartbeat to the speed of light. Her lips tingled, electricity sparking up throughout her body and her hands clutched to his shirt with all their might as if he could slip through her fingers like sand. He’d been wondering how her rosy lips would taste, never quite sure if it would make any impact on him but from the way his hands tremble with her face in them tucked away safely, he knew he has been bested.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave”, he whispers against her lips before pecking them again, drunk on adrenaline her lips caused.

“Don’t leave then”, she cups his face, holding him close. The simple thought of letting him go pains her. “When you’re gone, I’m stuck in darkness.”

Drawing a deep breath, Riven inches away. Using his hands, he brings her hands down from his face, clinging to the softness of her palms for a moment longer. “Even when I’m with you, I’m darkness that’s consuming you. Sunshine, no matter what happens, I’ll always be bad for you.”

Scoffing, she narrows her eyes ever so slightly, “That should be my choice and I choose you.”

“If you cling to me, I’ll snuff out your light. It’s who I am. I’m the darkness to your light, the night to your day. These kinds of loves don’t have happy endings.” Pressing a kiss to her palm, Riven leaves Y/N in deep thought.

Is it true? Is he her darkness? How much light had he taken already? Because even with that in mind, she wished to be consumed by him entirely. 

People say the darkness presses in, but that’s not true. The darkness kisses up to your skin closer than a lover’s lips and whispers excitement into your ears. The darkness becomes your best friend, a second skin that’s flattering and cool. The darkness becomes your favorite thing right up until your exits are blocked, then it has no reason to hide.

If it was easy to spot darkness there wouldn’t be a problem, now would it?

How often do you confuse day and night?

“Riven is my darkness”, she realizes and yet she doesn’t care. She’s light enough for both of them. If he is her darkness, she is his light and while the sun and the moon failed to make it work, Y/N decided to prove everyone wrong, Riven included.

PART 3 

[stardustprompts]

the poppy war - r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   drugs , death , murder , nsfw , prostitution mention , language

‘take off your clothes.’

‘why would anyone drug themselves before a test?’

‘you’re about to be a very lucky girl, sweet.’

‘wow that’s great. really great. Terrific.’

‘your folks are assholes.’

‘well fuck the heavenly order of things.’

‘don’t you have actual responsibilities?’

‘I don’t want to get on _____ ‘s bad side.’

‘you would make a terrible prostitute. no charm.’

‘what is so wrong with getting married?’

‘do you want to die?’

‘everything is spilling out of my head as quickly as I put it in.’

‘please do not commit spousal homicide.’

‘give me a way out of this shithole.’

‘hello, I’m praying.’

‘I seduced him with my nubile young body. you caught me.’

‘you can’t scare me into a confession, because I’m telling the truth.’

‘and that means you’re shit at your job.’

‘if you cross them—- if they even think you’ve looked at them funny—- they can and will hurt you.’

‘it’s easy to lose a language when you never speak it.’

‘you’re offending them with your very presence.’

‘they’ll make you an outsider, because you’re not like them.’

‘no matter what they say, you deserve to be here.’

‘I’ll kill you. I will fucking kill you.’

‘I went out in the sun once. you should try it sometime.’

‘oh, you’re the one ____ hates.’

‘you’d be a prick too if your family was both rich and attractive.’

‘honestly? I think he just comes in here to get high.’

‘I think you’re flattering yourself.’

‘unless you’ve got a weapon, don’t aim for the face. the neck’s a better target.’

‘we aren’t here to be sophisticated. we’re here to fuck people up.’

‘this is the only kick you’ll ever need, really. a kick to bring down the most powerful warriors.’

‘power dictates acceptability.’

‘he hasn’t done anything to earn my respect. all he’s done is act high and mighty.’

‘you’re nothing. you shouldn’t even be here.’

‘consider me bullied and intimidated, just let me sleep.’

‘he’s playing with her. he’ll end it soon.’

‘they’re good at fighting, but not much else.’

‘spend a lot of time looking at ____’s eyes do you?’

‘a betrayal of that sort would not have been out of character.’

‘come on, you belong here too.’

‘they’re not going to get rid of me like this. not this easily.’

‘I’m calm! I’m extremely calm!’

‘you’d rather kill your own people than let the opponent’s army walk away?’

‘you don’t let an enemy walk away if they’ll certainly be a threat to you later.’

‘he can’t stop raving about you.’

‘oh, don’t pretend to be bashful. you love it.’

‘you’re a walking disaster.’

‘anyone this obstinate deserves some attention, if only to make sure you don’t become a walking hazard to everyone around you.’

‘I heard he got drunk on rice wine last week and pissed into ____’s window. he sounds awesome.’

‘it’s me, your favorite person in the whole wide world.’

‘I do not have a problem. you are making up this problem for reasons unbeknownst to me.’

‘you’re killing the mood.’

‘they were weak as shit. scrawnier than you, even.’

‘you’re a real asshole. you know that right?’

‘your state of mind is just as important as the state of your body.’

‘sometimes you must loose the string to let the arrow fly.’

‘because I want to break his stupid face.’

‘he’s the most dangerous when he’s desperate.’

‘from this point on you’re just going to be a danger to yourself and everyone around you.’

‘you’re too reckless. you hold grudges, you cultivate your rage and let it explode, and you’re careless about what you’re taught.’

‘I knew I was the only one that could help him.’

‘they honed his rage like a weapon, instead of teaching him to control it.’

‘one urinating statue for my easily entertained friend.’

‘I don’t believe in gods. but I believe in power.’

‘one might say you’ve been obsessed with ____.’

‘don’t look to your left. pretend you’re taking to me.’ / ‘I am talking to you.’

‘we’re studying very weird things.’

‘I don’t actually know what I’m getting into.’

‘here is what happened: you called a god, and the god answered.’

‘you know that if you don’t get answers now, the hunger will consume you and your mind will crack.’

‘you’ve glimpsed the other side and you can’t rest until you fill in the blanks.’

‘supernatural is a word for anything that doesn’t fit your present understanding of the world.’

‘I’m supposed to take it as true that you’re a god?’

‘I’m not a god. I am a mortal who has woken up, and there is power in awareness.’

‘are we getting high? oh, wow. we’re getting high.’

‘ah. the law. so inconvenient. so irrelevant.’

‘we are not madmen. but how can we convince anyone of this, when the rest of the world believes it so?’

‘the price of power is pain.’

‘I understand the truth of things. I know what it means to exist.’

‘prey do not question the motives of the predator. the dead do not question the living. mortals do not challenge the gods.’

‘I killed for you. I would have done anything for you.’

‘I have seen the end of things. the shape of the world has changed.’

‘war doesn’t determine who’s right. war determines who remains.’

‘it’s alright. I know what you are.’

‘I thought I was the only one left.’

‘we have developed the power to rewrite the fabric of this world. if we don’t use it, then what’s the point?’

‘I don’t mess with that shit. it screws you up.’

‘I understand the appeal, I really do, but I like having my mind to myself.’

‘he’s a charmer. like a new puppy. you think he’s adorable until he pisses on the furniture.’

‘there’s no routine. no discipline. nothing you’re used to. am I right?’

‘so you’re the last of your kind. that’s sad.’

‘If you hold the fate of the country in your hands, if you have accepted your obligation to your people, then your life ceases to be your own.’

‘____ feared, and so he held you back.’

‘great danger is always associated with great power. the difference between the great and the mediocre is that the great are willing to take that risk.’

‘don’t ever let go on that anger. rage gives you power. caution does not.’

‘don’t give in... you’ve been so brave... but it takes more bravery to resist the power.’

‘the nature of this god is to destroy. the nature of this god is to be greedy, to never be satisfied with what he has consumed.’

‘so. screaming at rocks. is that, like, normal behavior here?’

‘fix this. prove your worth. do your fucking job or get out.’

‘I saved your life. doesn’t that make us at least a little square?!’

‘I was scared of you. and I lashed out.’

‘I thought I was better than you, and I’m not. I’m sorry.’

‘when I killed it, it felt like murder.’

‘look, I’m happy to discuss this, really, but I’m currently leaking life out three different wounds and I think I may pass out. would you give me a moment?’

‘well maybe ____ should get his head out of his ass.’

‘ ____ is more fragile than you think.’

‘look, asshole, I don’t need you to tell me what to do.’

‘they say he can read the future. shatter minds.’

‘you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. I am not your friend.’

‘he’s not human. he—- I don’t know what he is.’

‘but ___ was never allowed to be human.’

‘do you trust me?’ / ‘no. but that’s irrelevant.’

‘you don’t know what true suffering is.’

‘I have seen more than my fair share of suffering.’

‘that boy is beyond redemption. that boy is broken like the rest.’

‘I don’t want to be saved! I want power!’

‘that power will destroy everything you’ve ever loved. you will defeat your enemy, and the victory will turn to ashes in your mouth.’

‘we’ve missed something. something’s been laid out for us, but we can’t see it.’

‘fretting won’t make the dead come back to life.’

‘there was nothing human in those eyes.’

‘It was a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up.’

‘I don’t need your pity. I need you to kill them for me.’

‘whatever it takes. swear it on your life. swear it for me.’

‘I won’t judge him. I don’t dare, because I don’t have the right. and neither do you.’

‘you asked me why I wouldn’t stop him. now you understand. you can’t stop an avenger. you can’t reason with a madman.’

‘I am afraid of what he might do in his quest for vengeance. and I am afraid that he is right.’

‘I am about to do something terrible. and you will have a choice.’

‘they give nothing to the universe, and the universe owes them nothing in return.’

‘you cannot survive my death.’

‘you’re trying to deceive me. you don’t get to deceive me.’

‘this is not the way. this path leads only to darkness.’

‘when are you going to stop being such a damn coward? what are you running from?’

‘you will turn the world to ash, and only demons will live in the rubble.’

‘you dress up your crusade with moral arguments, when in truth you would let millions die if it means you get your so-called justice.’

‘you have not cared about anything for a very long time. you are broken.’

‘I am terrified. but only because I’m starting to remember who I once was. don’t go down that path.’

‘your country is ash. you can’t bring it back with blood.’

‘I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you.’

‘you know the worst part? we’re so close to home.’

‘did you miss me? did you miss this?’

‘I just gave him some of his favorite medicine.’

‘resistance here means suffering. there is no escape. no future.’

‘you have nothing to fight for anymore’

‘what are you defending? you owe ____ nothing.’

‘we were disposable. we were tools. tell me that doesn’t make you furious.’

‘I am sick with fury.’

‘I will die on my feet. I will not die a coward. and neither will you.’

‘we could stay here. we could stay here forever. we wouldn’t have to go back.’

‘you’ll have to live with the consequences. but you’re brave ... you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’

‘I have lost everything I care about. I don’t want peace, I want revenge.’

‘I don’t need to sleep. I need to feel nothing.’

‘do you want forgiveness? I can’t give you that.’

‘we avenged him. he’s gone, but avenged.’

‘you have to believe that it was necessary. that it stopped something worse. and even if it wasn’t, it’s the lie we’ll tell ourselves, starting today and every day afterward.’

‘aren’t you supposed to be a seer? do you ever see anything useful?’

‘we have an enemy whom we love.’

‘I’m going to find and kill everyone responsible. you cannot stop me.’

‘oh I’m not going to stop you.’

[mcheang]

In another’s eyes

Inspired by https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13849241/1/Signed-Gifts

Basically Adrien finds Marinette’s signature on his blue scarf and connects the dots.

Adrien is hurt that Marinette let him believe his father gave him the scarf. He understands why but it hurts worse after all this time thinking his father finally gave him something new. It’s having new hopes crushed

He visits Marinette and gently confronts her over it, chiding her to tell him the truth next time instead of letting him believe a lie.

Frantic, Marinette wildly points out that he lets their classmates believe in Lila’s wild promises. How is she any different from him?

Pause.

Adrien never really thought about it that way. He just wanted his classmates to be happy. But if he told them the truth, they would be sad and Lila would also be angry at him and probably akumatized.

If he kept the truth from them, then wasn’t he being a hypocrite?

Marinette worried she said something she could never take back. “Adrien...”

He held up a hand, needing to think.

What was the Chinese saying again? “Do not do unto others what you don’t want others do unto you.”-Confucius

Well, Adrien wasn’t one to deny an ancient philosopher’s wisdom.

Adrien: no, you’re right, Marinette. I’m a hypocrite for scolding you for something I’ve done as well

Marinette: you haven’t-

Adrien: but i have. Please don’t sugarcoat this, Marinette. Don’t try to spare my feelings when the truth is more important.

Marinette was nervous and predictably, she rambled. “Well, if you are planning to expose Lila, you would also be in trouble because while i constantly doubted her trip to Achu, you were aware of her playing truant.”

Adrien paused and took a breath. “I know. And I’ll accept my due punishment. But what matters is making things right. We need to tell everyone that Lila is a liar.”

Marinette: but how? They don’t believe me. And who knows if they’ll believe you!”

Adrien frowned, thinking again. “Don’t you have Jagged’s number?”

Marinette: Yup. I barely got him to cease suing Alya’s Ladyblog for Lila’s interview. He doesn’t really follow her anymore.

Adrien: do you think he’ll help us expose Lila?

Marinette: we can ask. But I think it’s a safe bet. The only reason he didn’t go after Lila herself was because she up and vanished after turning into Volpina.

Jagged was thrilled to sic Fang on Lila

Marinette: we said expose! Not kill

Jagged: I never feed Fang rotten food. He’ll just sit on her or chase her up a tree

Adrien: thank you. I’m just worried Lila will be akumatized again, though. The last time, Ladybug chewed her out for claiming to be BFFs; though after hearing Lila pronounce herself a better self-proclaimed heroine, it’s not that hard to see why Ladybug was angry (Adrien may have been upset with Ladybug but I imagine he would try to justify her behavior later. seriously, who wouldn’t be angry after hearing Lila insult her like that? He’s not very sensitive to others’ emotions)

Jagged: you can’t keep everybody happy. And sometimes you shouldn’t. Some people don’t deserve to be coddled. And besides, once the witch is exposed, who is to say the others won’t be akumatized?

Adrien paled. He didn’t consider that.

Marinette: well, we could try to keep an eye out for akumas. And maybe even get the heroes to stand guard?

Adrien: good idea. But how to contact them?

Marinette: leave it to me. I’ve seen the heroes jump on rooftops plenty from my balcony.

Jagged: just say the word and set the date, and your uncle Jagged will be there faster than you can say “Croc”

Marinette soon called Adrien and Jagged to tell them that Ladybug would be happy to stand by and even offer her own testimony that she is so not friends with Lila.

However, after hearing how Lila framed Marinette, Ladybug wanted Marinette absent in case Lila blamed her for Jagged exposing her.

Jagged: well, she’s not totally wrong.

Marinette: uncle Jagged!

Jagged: what, you did call me for this.

On the day of Lila’s downfall, school had just ended and students started heading home. Marinette was one of the first, having to work at the bakery. Chloé and Sabrina also left, not bothering to stay around and chat with the peasants.

To the lingering students’ surprise, a popular and familiar rock song began blasting into the air as a tour bus drove up to the school.

Jagged: hello Dupont College! Are you ready to rock!

Students crowded up and screamed.

Lila paled and could not escape the gravity of the crowd.

Jagged: now where’s my guitar? Fang, if you don’t mind?

Fang waddled up, guitar on his back.

Jagged: now Fang’s been with me since he hatched from an egg. And he’s the best pet a rocker could ask for.

Alya: what about your cat?

Jagged: cat? Since when did I own a cat?

Alya: but Lila said-

Jagged: who? Sorry miss, but I think you must have confused me with someone else.

A pause for the class as Jagged started playing a guitar riff.

While the crowd cheered, the class stared at Lila.

Lila: he doesn’t like his kitten to be brought up

Ivan: he doesn’t even know you

Lila: he does! Right, Adrien?

Lila glared at him meaningfully. But Adrien ignored her and just sang along. He promised to maintain a guise of friendship, but no more lies. Though if Lila was exposed, maybe their deal could be considered pointless now. Still...better not to antagonise her so openly.

Nino: you’re asking the wrong person. The only other people in class who can get close to Jagged are Chloé (same hotel) and...Marinette. That’s how she knew you were a liar!

Jagged: hey, what’s going on over there?

The student body turned to stare, annoyed at the interruption.

Aware of unwanted scrutiny, Alya quickly said, “oh, we were just having a priority one class meeting. Sorry! We’ll keep it down.”

The class dragged Lila off, and Ladybug secretly followed. Adrien reluctantly did so too.

Surrounded, Lila could not run away, so she burst into fake tears.

Lila: why are you being so mean?

Mylène: do you think her tears are real?

Kim snorted. “Doubtful. But I don’t think she’s worth bothering about anymore.”

Alya: what? She lied!

Kim: and we believed a con artist. But unless we lost a lot of money or whatever, what’s the point of doing this?

True. While Lila had promised favors, that didn’t mean the class had stop working hard on their own. And Alya’s credibility was also her fault for not checking her sources and getting more proof.

Alya huffed. “Fine! But she just gets away scot free?”

Max: unlikely. There is the matter of forging doctor’s letter and skipping school.

Lila: you can’t prove that!

Alya: I can just call your mother right now.

Lila: and tell her that you’re bullying me?

Alya: no, we are just going to ask her some questions. And if she was duped by you, too, I don’t think she can deny the truth if we walk up to her office and make a scene.

Adrien: is that really necessary?

Alya: Mrs Rossi must really believe her daughter. She may think us all bullies if we expose Lila but the presence of her colleagues will influence her. Besides, our questions are simple. Was Lila really sick? Was she at Achu?

The class dragged Lila to the embassy and made such a ruckus that Mrs Rossi came out, especially when she saw her daughter in the center of it all, yelling at them to be quiet.

Mrs Rossi was angry but answered their questions that Lila had never been sick or to Achu while Alya filmed her. But there was the akuma plague. At this, the class told her the truth and even her observing colleagues backed them up.

Lila was distraught. Where was the freaking akuma?

Ladybug was lounging on the roof, her yo-yo stuffed with butterflies. As long as she didn’t use her lucky charm, she was in no danger of detransforming.

When Adrien didn’t back Lila, she told everyone he knew she was a liar.

Adrien admits his faults and realized his lesson now. The class knew why Marinette kept the scarf secret so they could sort of understand why he wanted to keep everybody happy. He also was the one who got Marinette back into school, so they forgave him.

Lila was expelled once Damocles saw the footage and Mrs Rossi confirmed it.

Lila was sent to boarding school instead where everyone knew she was a compulsive liar. Nobody took her seriously there.

As for Adrien, he was always determined to hear the blunt truth, tired of being sheltered.

[bakusquad-assemble]

hiya lol could you write a bakugou x reader and (they're dating already) and he's just being soft for her and cuddling in his dorm and he starts tickling her and she's screaming n stuff so the class rush in and are totally not expecting to see bakugou practically sat on reader and tickling her, lol no pressure obvs lol

Ahhhh thank you so so much for the request,lovely!! I really enjoyed writing this one so I hope you like it! Soft boy Bakugou has my whole heart! I’m very slowly making my way through my request inbox, but feel free to send me more prompts to get the creative juices flowin!

Bakugou Katsuki was never one to show affection so openly like his other classmates would with their significant others. He was a reserved person, and the idea of PDA had always embarrassed him. So when the two of you had started dating, you were very aware of how he reacted to being touched, and respected him enough to never poke or prod in public. What took you by surprise though, was how different he was in your private company. The once prickly and standoffish boy couldn’t keep his hands off of you. At first it was jarring, his warm arms around you feeling so foreign and new, but you couldn’t help but relish in it. Sometimes you even found yourself teasing the poor touch deprived boy to see how much he needed your body against his. It was cruel, sure, but also incredibly validating to have Bakugou huff and puff until you paid attention to him. Today was one of those days.

Bakugou made his way to your dorm room after class as he did everyday, his textbooks from class slung over his shoulder in his book bag, fully intent to study and spend some quality time with you. Just being in your presence always had a calming effect on the explosive boy, so he found himself drawn to you every chance he got. He knocked once on your door before letting himself in, tossing his bag to the floor and locking his crimson eyes onto your form. You were already sitting at your desk, head buried in your book and head nestled in the palm of your hand. You made no movement in his direction, instead keeping your eyes glued to the pages before you.

“Hey, Suki.” You smiled softly at his presence, earning a grunt in return. He threw himself onto your bed, looking over at you longingly but still said nothing as he pulled out his own papers and got to work. The two of you sat in silence for a bit, a smirk ever present on your face. You could feel the boy's frustration radiating off his body and knew that it would only be a matter of time before he got sick of the lack of contact. Bakugou cleared his throat and you lifted your head ever so slightly.

“You okay? You need some water or something?” You teased, finally turning to look at him over your shoulder. He was looking at you with furrowed brows, a light flush spread across his cheeks.

“why the fuck are you still sitting over there?” He asked, trying his best not to sound desperate, but a little seeped through. You could’ve melted on the spot from his tone.

“I’m doing my work.” You stated plainly, turning your back to him once more to hide your smile. You could hear him growl at your response.

“Yeah no shit dumbass, but why are you doing it over there? You don’t want to spend time with me or somethin?” He tried his best to look anywhere but you, feeling the embarrassment overtake him. You could hear the distress in his voice and you couldn’t help but let out the laugh you’ve been stifling. He was so needy and you loved it. You put down your pen on the desk and turned completely in your chair, finally facing your red faced boyfriend.

“the fuck you laughing at?” He looked confused, trying to flesh out the meaning of your behavior.

“Aw what’s the matter, Katsuki? Does someone need attention?” You teased again, your head cocked to the side toyingly. You saw his demeanor change immediately. The once confused expression was replaced with a devious grin as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. You were fucking with him.

“Oh, you little shit!” Bakugou jumped off of his place on the bed and rushed at you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you from the chair roughly. You couldn’t stop the loud scream that escaped your mouth, echoing throughout the room and cascading down the hallway of the dorms.

“Tryin to mess with me, huh?” He snickered into your ear, holding you against his body tightly as you tried to fight against his hold. Laughter bubbled out of your throat as Bakugou picked you up with ease, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way back to his previous spot in the room. Despite your kicking and playful fighting, Bakugou’s grip on you barely wavered. He slammed your body down onto the bed and climbed on top of you, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Well now I’m gonna make you pay for that.” His voice was sinister, dangerous, and you had no doubt that he meant business. Panic washed over you, and your fighting against the blondes grip got more frantic.

“No no no!” You laughed nervously, the sound mimicking that of a person in immediate danger, a scream of terror, but you were smiling and so was your boyfriend.

“Too late, you made me mad and now you’ve got to pay for it.” He let his hands live on your hips for a second, relishing in the feeling of your presence, before digging his calloused fingers into the sides of your body. Bakugou’s tickles were vicious, but there was still a certain softness to his hands. He let them roam your body, feeling every curve and smooth expanse of skin. His laugh cascaded around you like snow flurries, beautiful but bitting. To everyone but you, the sound was devious, Filled with malicious intent, but you knew better. So you laughed too. You laughed so hard that you could barely breathe.

“S-stop! Stop please, it hurts!” You felt your lungs burning, your chest tightening uncomfortably as Bakugou’s tickles only got more intense. You let out another scream, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you tried to fight off the strong blonde boy on top of you. It was no use though, he easily overpowered you in your current state. You thought about using your quirk to get him off of you, but honestly you didn’t really want him to stop. You loved feeling his hands wander your body, feeling his hot breath against the crook of your neck. It was intoxicating.

“In your dreams, y/n! You’re fucking dead!” You screamed once again, this time much louder, cowering from the anticipation of his punishment, but it never came. Instead you heard your door swing open, hitting the wall with some force. Both of you jumped at the sudden noise, and the sudden appearance of some familiar faces standing on high alert in your doorway. Bakugou made no motion to move from on top of you, instead shooting a dangerous glare towards the four idiots that had just made their appearance, their voices ringing in his ears like gunfire.

“Y/n?? Are you okay?” Mina’s voice echoed throughout the room immediately

“We heard screaming! Is everyone alright?” Kirishima spoke up next, his voice laced with obvious concern. The four figures froze in the doorway as they took in the actuality of the scene, a blush fighting its way fervently up Bakugou’s neck. Kaminari and Sero attempted to stifle their laughter, but to no avail.

“Oh ho ho, shit!” Looks like we had the wrong idea!” Kaminari snickered, bumping Sero in the side with his elbow.

“Damn, you two sure do have a weird way of gettin it on!” Sero chuckled, causing Kaminari to laugh even harder.

“Come on man, don’t kink shame them!” Kaminari’s stupid voice had Bakugou seething with rage.

“DON'T YOU FUCKERS KNOW HOW TO KNOCK?” Bakugou’s voice bellowed throughout the room, causing you to wince just from sheer proximity. Your face was a light shade of pink from being found in a compromising position, but Bakugou’s was fire engine red. Kirishima shifted awkwardly in his spot, bumping Kaminari hard in an attempt to get him to stop laughing.

“We’re sorry, Bro! It just...sounded like Y/n needed help! that’s all! We were all chilling in Mina’s room down the hall and heard her screaming!” Kirishima pleaded apologetically, clearly shaken that he had overstepped in such a personal way for the angry blonde. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make his best friend angry or uncomfortable.

“JUST GET OUT BEFORE I KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!” Bakugou yelled again, this time effectively stifling the laughter coming from Kaminari and Sero. Mina let out a soft giggle, ushering the terrified boys out of the room in one swift motion, feigning confidence to hide her own fear of being blown to bits.

“Alright guys, nothin’ to see here! I think we should give these two love birds their privacy.” You could feel Bakugou growl softly at her words, causing you to chuckle into your hand. Mina gave you a wink and a flirty little wave as she closed the door behind her, leaving you and Bakugou alone once more. Bakugou quickly took a pillow from your bed and chucked it at the door as it closed as hard as he could, making contact with a loud thud and earning a screech of terror from the other side of the door.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before laughter cascaded from your lips. Bakugou looked back at you with wild eyes, clearly confused by the sudden noise of happiness.

“The fuck are you laughing about now?” You shook your head and wiped your eyes before looking back at him, a smile ever present on your face.

“It’s just...of course they had to barge in like that! They never cease to amaze me. ” You let your smile fade slightly as your hand reached out to caress his cheek. He hesitated for a second before allowing his form to melt into your touch.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki. Are you okay? I know you don’t like letting people see you like that. ” Your soft voice enveloped him, causing him to nod ever so slightly into your hand.

“M’fine. Those dumbasses just get under my fucking skin.” You let out a soft laugh, nodding with him.

“I mean, at least we know they’d come save me if I was ever being murdered.” Bakugou let an exhale of breath from his nose, the corners of his lips upturning ever so slightly.

“I’d get there first.” His confident tone was masked with warmth, a tone you recognized all too well. It was the same tone he talked in when he talked about your future together. It was filled with love. You rolled your eyes, but you still let the smile rest on your lips. You pulled Bakugou down next to you, keeping your eyes locked onto his crimson ones.

“ I know you would.” You whispered before bringing your lips to meet his in a loving kiss. It was short-lived contact, but still sent a shiver up Bakugou’s spine. He never expected to fall in love, never once imagined he’d let himself be so vulnerable in front of another human, but there was something about you that broke him down. Every single wall he had made that he believed to be impenetrable, you demolished with a single kind and understanding smile. And while Bakugou never imagined himself falling in love, he had unequivocally and irrevocably, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulled you in close to his chest, letting you rest your head there as he let himself savour the gentle sounds of your breath. He ran his hands through your hair gently as he felt you speak up once more, the words escaping your mouth causing a surge of pride to rush through the blonde boy's body.

“you’re my hero, after all.”

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hi! Sorry to be annoying but its been a worm in my brain about what's going to happen to the nauseous villain. Whats going to be their reaction with the villains? Are they going to just insist that they want to go home and the villains won't understand that they want to go to the facility they were trained into nauseousness in? Again sorry for being annoying!

Sorry this took so long! I tried a little bit of a new storytelling device in here-- a frame story. I really hope you enjoy! This series is so so fun, and so very whumpy.

Continued from here, first part can be found here.

CW//Emetophobia, restraints, sedation, insults and swearing, mentions of poisoning, muzzles

“They’re sleeping.”

Doctor’s tone was quiet enough to nearly be described as a whisper, words barely audible above the background noise of the base’s medical wing. Based simply upon their facial expression, it seemed as though they, too, would very much like to be asleep as well-- lines of fatigue were carved deep under their eyes, showing that they’d been awake for far, far too long.

The bandage wrapped tightly about their forearm displayed an entirely different issue, but it seemed to be one that they were far too exhausted to pay much mind to.

“They’re sleeping?” Supervillain echoed. Fatigue crept, too, at their bones, yet it was not an exhaustion wrought by work. Rather, it had been brought on by worry.

“Mhm.” The doctor spoke with a nod. “For now.”

“They’re... They’re okay, then?”

“They’re...” They bit their lower lip. “They’ve calmed down.”

“Are they themself again?” Supervillain’s voice turned to the epitome of eagerness, almost childish in their excitement. “Are they acting- They’re acting normal?”

A moment of tense, sorrowful silence.

“No.” Doctor shook their head after a long pause. “No, they aren’t. I’m sorry. We had to sedate them.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” They repeated. “They were getting worse.”

“It’s okay. I trust your judgement. You did what you had to.” The supervillain murmured in a low voice. “Can I see them? Is... Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

Supervillain couldn’t ignore the way that sickness threatened to boil within their chest at the words. They could see them. They could see their friend, their ward, their kid. And, now that they were asleep, they couldn’t be terrified.

They couldn’t be terrified of their own friend. Not while they were unconscious.

There was a horribly sorrowful air to the way that Doctor moved, turning back towards the hospital room door, as though they were leading their boss to a morgue. The knob clicked as it was turned, and the room beyond was unveiled.

Villain was sleeping. At long last, their eyes were closed-- the slightest peace visible there, even as it was buried beneath tension and twitching eyelids.

And, yet, the remnants of their terror could be seen clear as day. The restraints made sure of that. There was almost more leather, metal, and fabric upon their body than there was skin.

The muzzle was what drew their attention the quickest. A contraption of black mesh, held in place by leather straps-- straps that danced in tandem with those holding an oversized pair of headphones to their skull. Similar lines of leather criss-crossed the rest of their body in an elaborate pattern, holding down their wrists, their ankles, their midsection, their limbs, and even their head, eliminating all by the slightest of movements. Odd, leather pieces had been fastened over their hands: Mitt cuffs, keeping their fingers curled and hands useless.

A particularly odd restraint had been placed upon their upper arm and wrist-- a sort of flat, plastic, white-stained board, with straps to hold their wrist and elbow in place. Between the straps, an IV line ran, fastened down with all manner of surgical tape.

“I’m sorry.” It seemed as though Doctor couldn’t stop themself from repeating the phrase. “I’m so sorry. I know they’re- They’re our friend. I didn’t want to have to tie them down like this...”

Supervillain understood. They did, really, even as they felt as though their heartstrings were being played with a violin’s bow. Villain was their friend, they saw them as almost their child, in some ways, even as they would never admit to. They had once been the kindest, the youngest among them, and now...

“I trust your judgement.” They spoke, voice nearly quivering with a whimper. “I know you would only do what you have to.”

Doctor nodded somberly.

“They... They were really scared. We don’t know what was wrong with them. We still don’t.”

“Are you they going to be okay?” Supervillain couldn’t help themself from wandering nearer to the bedside. Staring down at their friend, shackled like a wild beast. “They look...” They trailed off.

“We’re doing everything we can.” Of course they were, but would it be enough? “We don’t know what’s wrong. I’m really sorry.”

“You did what you had to.” They truly wished that the medic would cease their apologies. They had only helped.  They had spent so long in their own quarters, worrying and pacing until they wore through their socks.

“Do you know what happened? Before we arrived? No one has had a clear story.”

“Well...”

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“They’re going to be scared.” Supervillain’s voice was marked by the slightest of nervous prickles as they moved around their vehicle, from driver’s seat to rear doors. It was a van of considerable size and white bulk. They had taken it for a reason, had intended for Villain to ride in the back, since the beginning. For their own safety. So they wouldn’t be seen. As it had turned out, however, there was another benefit to that fact.

So it seemed, every villain in the base had gathered in the underground garage. Some of them, they noted, didn’t even live within its walls-- someone had invited friends for this occasion. They had specifically been told not to do that.

But, they were here, now, and there was little to be done about that fact. A crowd of twenty-five, bustling with excitement like grade schoolers.

“Everybody back up!” The supervillain called, order ringing out in concrete walls. With just how uncommon their use of commands was, those they spoke to followed their words in an instant, spreading out into a sort of semi-circle formation. “Villain is terrified, right now. Give them space. They’re going right to the medical wing.”

Words in a half-dozen languages buzzed through the gathered crowd.

“Do you get that? Are you guys going to be chill?”

Twenty-five pairs of eyes shot to them, and twenty-five heads nodded.

“Okay. Try to- Just try not to scare them, okay? Please.”

With a nervous gait, Supervillain turned towards their vehicle. Why were they so frightened? This was their friend, after all. Their teammate. They weren’t dangerous-- of course they weren’t, even though the bar holding the van’s rear doors closed may have indicated otherwise to some. It was only for safety reasons, that was all.

They knocked on the doors once, then twice, then slowly, ever so slowly, slid the bar away.

From the back of the van, Villain erupted, as though a wild animal. Had they been waiting at the doors? Struggling at them? Fighting? Certainly they had been, or there would have been no way that they could have leapt with such speed.

The villain crashed to the ground, onto their knees. In an instant, every single person under Supervillain’s orders immediately violated everything they had told them.

‘Swarming’ was the only verb that would be accurate to what occurred in that moment. Nearly every single member of the crowd rushed forth. Some kept at least a foot or two of distance, while more than one crashed right into their toppled-over comrade.

“Villain!”

“You’re okay!”

“I missed you so much!”

“What happened?”

“Where were you?”

“What did they do to you?”

“Are you alright?”

All the concerns, the joys, and the cries raised in volume until they could be described only as a cacophony, a cluster of noise.

The voices were broken only by a scream. A pained scream, and a flash of red. Villain moved nigh-impossibly quickly, teeth gripping around the arm of one who had once been their friend. They tore, leaving great, bloody marks in their wake, as they reared back their head to scream:

“You fucking pieces of shit! Scum! I hate you all! Get away from me, get away from me! I’ll kill you all, I hate-”

Their tirade was ceased only as their body heaved forward, a dribble of bile exploding from their lips, dripping to the floor.

In an instant, the excitement of the scene was gone. The heaving continued, dry gagging spitting out less and less green each time Villain’s body was wracked. By the end, they could only expel air.

When at last they ceased, once more they struck out, teeth hardly missing the neck of another target who seemed to have been selected at random.

“Hold them down. Hold them down!” The cry came from someone in the crowd, someone Supervillain couldn’t identify in their panic. Yet, it was echoed, rippling through those who seemed as though they had been stricken by an odd sort of grief.

“Hold them down!”

“Hold them down!”

And such was done. Four villains moved to hold their hands against Villain’s back, keeping them against the floor, even as they writhed and spat like a beast.

It was then that the medical team arrived. It was then that Supervillain watched their friend, their ward, dragged away, all the while spitting their name as though it was an obscenity.

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“We thought they were sick.” Doctor admitted with a bowed head. “Their behavior seemed consistent with delirium, or some kind of hallucinogen. Between vomiting and confused behavior...”

“Did you find it?” Somehow, the words brought a burgeoning hope to Supervillain’s chest, replacing, in some capacity, the dread that their own story had brought on. “The drug? The- The poison? Or is it a disease? A fever?”

The silence that hung between the two was heavier than lead. At last, the doctor shook their head.

“We don’t know what’s wrong. We did everything we could. The symptoms were consistent with poisoning, and there was no time to test for that, so we acted as though it was.”

“Did you ask them?”

“We did but... They seemed a lot more intent on insulting us than answering any questions.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. We pumped their stomach, and flushed it with charcoal, just for good measure. But... It didn’t help.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if it was a poison, it wasn’t one that was ingested by mouth.”

“But it was a poison?”

“We don’t know that. I’m sorry. A certain time after ingestion, it’s hard to tell. We- We drew some blood. It tested negative for all common narcotics and poisons, but it could be something less common. It’s in the lab, now.”

“When will we know? A few hours?”

“A few weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“I’m sorry. It’s slow, I’m so sorry. Until then...”

“What?”

“Until then we’ll manage them, as best as we can. It was like a game of cat and mouse, Supervillain. I’m really sorry. We had to muzzle them. They bit me.” The doctor raised a hand, showing off the bandage they now wore.

“But what if they wanted to talk?”

“It’s only mesh. Stops biting, but not talking. Then, they tried to scratch at us, so we cuffed them. That made them scratch at themself, so, the mitts.”

“And you had to strap them down?”

“When we put in the IV, yes. There was no other way. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just... Weird.”

“To see them tied up like this?”

“Yeah.”

“It is for me, too. I know. But it’s not them.” Doctor looked up, meeting the eyes of their commander. “You need to remember that, yeah? We all do. It’s not really Villain. Whatever is doing this to them, it’s not them.”

“I know. I- I just need to convince myself that that’s true.” Supervillain straightened themself, standing up taller. “What do you recommend? For their care going forward?”

The doctor seemed to sense the change in professionalism, and assumed a similar stance.

“We’ll continue to look into what’s causing their sickness. Until we can find a source, I’m advising nothing ingested by mouth, except for moderate amounts of water.”

“But- What if they get hungry?” And there went all that posturing, gone in an instant. “Won’t they get hungry?”

“We’re already giving them fluids and nutrients by IV. They’ll have all they need to survive.”

“But what if they get hungry?”

“We can give appetite suppressants if needed.” Doctor conceded. “Alongside fluids, I’m advising a constant drip of anti-nausea medication. With how much they were vomiting, choking is a real risk.”

“Okay. Granted, for both. What about... You said they were sedated?”

“That’s your choice, Sir. We sedated them in order to take samples. It’s less distressing for them, to take blood and the like while they’re asleep. The current dosage should wear off in four or so hours, giving them at least some sleep.”

“They need it.”

“They do. They may be unable to fall asleep at night on their own, and we may need to use sedatives to allow them to rest. As for during the day... That’s up to you.”

“What are my options?”

“We can forgo sedation altogether. It isn’t necessary medically, especially now that they have an IV placed. But in that case, they’re likely to be aggressive, and I can’t guarantee that they won’t present harm to themself or to others.

Or, we can provide a small, consistent level of sedative through an IV drip. Enough to keep them calm, and hopefully to quell any aggression. But that may also cause them some distress.”

“I don’t want to sedate them.” Supervillain admitted, after a terribly long pause. “No sedatives. Please.”

“Okay.”

They moved to the bedside, gripping the bedrails with their hands until their knuckles turned white. They were crying, oh, god, they were crying in front of their own medical staff.

“Villain.” They whispered. “Villain, I’m so, so sorry.”

And, in their sleep, Villain begun to dry heave.