#and find it easier to just sweep it under the rug and point to the one interation where it was used for a scheme

[quietwingsinthesky]

it’s that no one ever believed him that gets to me the most. this is a society of telepaths. and yet when the doctor finds out that the drums are real, he’s surprised. the master is surprised, elated, by the confirmation that he’s hearing something that’s really there, that this thing that’s been following him and hurting him for so long is real.

after a certain point, given that the master is Really Fucking Good at mind control and such, you have to imagine that no one could just pick up on the noise in his head with a little general telepathy. he had to choose to let the doctor in to share it. and. and okay. we need to put aside him striving to be The Best At Controlling People’s Minds in the context of him having his mind violated as a child because if i think about these two things in relation to each other i’ll throw up.

but there has to have been a point before he was so accomplished that he couldn’t have defended his own mind as easily. that he couldn’t keep someone, anyone, from delving into his head and hearing the drums. which means i must conclude, because we find out who put them in his head at all and it’s the most powerful guy on gallifrey, that when he was younger, the people around him did know. they could hear the drums. they could figure out what was done to him. but they did nothing, they said nothing, they told him he was hearing things. because if the lord president wanted to use a child for his own ends, who was going to stand up and stop him? easier to sweep it under the rug. and the master lived with that for so long that finally having just one other person hear the drums was a shock to him.

#very fun that this twist is. first of all great for end of time. but also can be used to recontextualize other bits of the master’s behavio #not even explain away but give extra meaning to. you know? #he hypnotizes people because if he can control them it’d damn well his right to do so and if they didn’t want to be mindfucked they should #have had better defenses. he’s the master and he came to conquer. and such. #but it’s also. this is now inextricable from the fact that his own mind was opened up and used against him as a child. when he couldn’t #possibly have defended himself. this past and his actions cannot be separated. #a man can have more than one motivation he can be both a little bastard who wants to rule a world because its his due since no one could #stop him. and also. it can be because there is no way to undo what was forced on him as a kid. but he can at least make sure nothing and no #one will ever control him again. he’s the master and you will obey *him*. never again the other way around. #the master #simm!master #doctor who

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

I do agree with the general statement of your post (that is, products should include warnings). I also thank you for acknowledging that seizures can cause death. I'm in the epilepsy community (although I am not photosensitive myself) and I can not stress how much negative pushback we've gotten from some spiderverse fans just for pointing out that a seizure could lead to death.

I will argue though that with spiderverse in particular, I think it was negligent on the part of the creators and studio to release those films as it currently is. People can be diagnosed with photosensitive epilepsy at any age but is especially common at the age between 7-19. The spiderverse films are a mainstream product primarily aimed at that age group. No matter what kind of warnings there are for the film, kids that age will probably not know if they are photosensitive until they are watching the film and have a seizure in a public place.

I also find that the inaccessibility of the films to photosensitive people completely undercuts the films inclusive nature. Like I have never before seen so many arguments that "art isn't supposed to be accessible for everyone" and that photosensitive people should just deal with being locked out of the conversation until these films. Not foing to lie, it's a little hurtful seeing it come from the wider disability community too.

i don't really have a response to the point re: it being mainstream and targeted towards a young audience; i think it's definitely a discussion to have, but overall i think that the phenomenon of targeting age demographics as marketing demographics is a bad one, which only evolved for monetary purposes, and the idea that age is a good predictor for taste in art and preferred complexity of topics is fundamentally flawed. essentially: yeah, i get you, but the angle i'm coming at this from is that we should really stop ~marketing media towards minors or adults~ to begin with and let the content of the art stand on its own.

re: inclusiveness: i also get you, but like. any art whose message is inclusiveness is going to intentionally exclude a significant portion of disabled people. there is no possible way for a piece of art to be accessible to all disabled people, because disability is such a broad category that every single access need directly conflicts with at least one other access need, possibly dozens.

i tend to prefer that artists openly reckon with which disabilities they're excluding from access to their art and why. i know it's an uncomfortable thing to reckon with, but like... the idea that all art has the chance to be equally accessible to all people and the only reason it isn't is lack of effort re: inclusion on the artist's part... is just a straight up lie. there isn't any way to reconcile two directly conflicting access needs, much less dozens of directly conflicting access needs, so rather than push that under the rug and act like some access needs are superior and as long as they're fulfilled the art is blanket "accessible" to all, i would much rather artists openly discuss what groups of disabled people they are prioritizing in accessibility and why.

(in the case of spiderverse movies in particular: back when the first one came out years ago, i engaged with some talk in some smaller low-vision spaces about the film's bright colors and overall eye-strain being actually more accessible to some individuals, because it made it easier for them to see the broad shapes and movements than most movies at the time. directly conflicting needs. while it's almost definitely unintentional on the spiderverse team's part, i would rather them know about it and grapple with the difficult decision of who to include vs. exclude publicly, rather than sweep the whole thing under the rug or act like one group's accessibility needs are obviously more important than the others.)

like... it's a difficult conversation to have, because i genuinely have a lot of empathy for being permanently locked out of engaging with a piece of art that i love a lot because of its inaccessible nature (i have a couple of different video game series that i love and Can Never Play, and i also can't mod them to make them easier to play, because the ways they're inaccessible to me are the fundamental point of the art). but i also at the same time have to balance that with my material experience of being a person whose access needs directly and 100% conflict with other disabled people's access needs, the material experience of understanding very firsthand that there is no possible way for some art to be accessible to me, ever, even in a world where everyone cared about accessibility, because other disabled people exist too. and like. idk! it's a weird fucking emotional space to be in! i at the very least would like for everyone involved to tackle it head-on, instead of playing the game we currently seem to be playing where 1) mainstream artists do not grapple with these concepts at all, nor do they clearly label which disability needs are included vs. excluded in any of their art, 2) we in disability spaces act like there is one universal measure of "accessibility in art" and if you are excluded by that measure then your needs are not from genuine disability or your disability simply is not included in disability activism.

#anonymous #ask

[behindthewox]

Currently, MUGWUMPS manage their own sites. What are your thoughts on this?

Personally, I'm not a fan - I think it's a basic principle that we need to have a 'sober second thought' to ensure that people aren't making crazy decisions without thinking them through. Of course you're going to think your own ideas are great; and if the MoMs are hiring their own HMs it's likely the HMs are going to have similar thoughts.

The point of MUGS managing is to ensure that sites are running smoothly and there isn't any oversights or errors that aren't noticed (either deliberately, because they were genuinely missed because people got used to them, etc.), which I feel like is missed when the MUGS supervise their own sites.

Also it makes it way harder to hold site leaders accountable if things go wrong, as evidenced by the whole JM situation. I don't love that MUGS are essentially free from accountability because they manage their own sites. Not to say, mind you, that all MUGS are awful or doing a bad job or hiding things - that's not the point. But if something does happen, it is WAY easier for a MUG to sweep it under the rug or play it down when there isn't an outside set of eyes on their site. And it's harder for staff and users to find someone to talk to about it, because currently if I had an issue with my MoM or HM, I'd go to their MUGWUMP, but you can't really do that when your MoM IS the MUGWUMP.

Even aside from the fact that sites aren't running as smoothly as they could be right now in general, it's just a good idea to have a second set of eyes - you know, when you proofread something and see no issues but your friend proofreads it and finds five spelling errors in the first five minutes; I feel like it's the same principle. You're bound to miss things or fall into habits just because you're used to your site.

I think MUGS should have a different MUG supervising their site.

I couldn't have written it better myself (and I haven't yet taken the time to do so, but now I won't have to - anon has done it for me).

Some people are able to be their own boss without problem, but most people aren't. Most of us need other people to give us an outside perspective of ourselves and what we do, that's just part of being human. We are often blind to our own shortcomings.

The sooner you accept your human limitations and flaws, the sooner you can get started on figuring out how to compensate for and work around it. It's a lifelong project but it's an important one.

#wox #wox site #how to boss #boldly assuming we are all human

[mchiti]

it didn't mean to be something against you though. It is an objective fact that the majority of immigrants live in situations of hardship in Europe and if there is no integration, things like this happen. In Germany, where I live, crimes have greatly decreased because there have been very strong assistance policies for the many migrants who have arrived. France hasn't done the same and unfortunately this shows. I read that in Italy 32% of prisoners in jails are from the Maghreb. what I meant was that clearly there is a very strong social problem, and clearly if there is no money it is easier to commit crimes. I'm also following you for hakim, it seems to me that the story of the older brothers who ended up in jail is known by everyone, and that also in Holland many North Africans end up in jail. The point is that if we sweep everything under the rug we will never figure out what the causes are, and if we never address these causes people who hear these news will end up having racist reactions unfortunately. I'm not saying it's right but it's inevitable and unfortunately I think that whoever is a second generation child must, first of all, recognize that there is a problem between us. I'm not maghrebi but I'm also the daughter of immigrants so I understand the problem!

the fact you went to find all your data and came back with it like

look, first I don't care you're from germany, I don't care about german policies and your country did the worst shit in dealing with migration so leave me. Second I don't care if you're a diaspora kid yourself, just because you're it really doesn't give you any right to come and suggest to me how we have to address issues. Third every country has its own social leyers, europe is a big continent I don't even understand the comparison; you put together four countries with four different migration histories and dynamics. Fourth please don't bring other people's lives and struggles into this because it really is not fucking nice at all, I'm not fucking interested in playing this game, not with my people. and Fifth I'm not even following you, what the fuck is your point about? I know migrant families struggle more. of fucking course they might end up on wrong paths more if they struggle more. What problem do we have to recognise? I'll tell you what we have to recognise, the fact europe loves to keep them on the sides, so they can have scapegoats forever to distract white europeans with and build their propaganda on. to win elections. Yet you're here telling me we have to recognise that we're what, criminals? Again I wasn't looking for a sociology class, nothing justifies racial profiling on the basis of someone's features.

[andthroughthewire]

I might be wrong this is just me thinking aloud, but the hole in the “Chuck was right all along” line for me is it never seems like Chuck really knows what he wants? Beyond control? Like does he want Jimmy leashed outside or does he want him back in Cicero? Does he want Jimmy destroyed or does he want him as a mini Chuck? He’ll self sabotage with Rebecca, only seems to like Howard and Kim until they’re not useful to him, and he’ll have no clue why Ernie doesn’t trust him when he treats him like shit the whole time.

I don't know if you were part of the fandom during the first 2 and a half seasons of the show, anon, but back then "Chuck was right all along" was a fringe opinion. The vast majority of people really didn't like him (but while everyone rightfully praised Michael McKean's performance from the start, Anna Gunn got death threats).

It's like what happened with Howard, I don't remember people having an opinion of him beyond "he's a douchebag" but, as the writers made the viewers emphatize with him more and more (especially in season 6) a good portion of the audience seemed to lose all the good faith they had in Jimmy and Kim and never quite got it back, which I do find an interesting reaction to have considering we're in the same universe where Walter White did all that he did and still had people supporting him (Is Jimmy too much of a simp/not on the sigma grindset? Is Kim a woman and therefore unredeemable?).

Joking aside, I think that (for the most part, I know they have their fans out there) people's opinions of Chuck (and, to a lesser extent, Howard) have more to do with how they see Jimmy and Kim and if they think those two are deserving of redemption or acceptance or a way forward and it's part of why the ending is open-ended in my opinion. We get to decide what happens next.

Listen, I don't particularly like Chuck on a good day and he's the kind of person I wouldn't want to spend too much time with, but I try to go beyond that and I think it's a shame to flatten these very complex characters into right or wrong, good or bad, etc, but I also understand that not everyone is gonna sit down and talk about them for more than 5 minutes tops. It's like what Bob and Rhea and Patrick have said about the time they spent in the same house while shooting, most people wouldn't want to hear actors (or writers!) talk about their characters for hours on end. Hell, even others in the cast don't like this approach, apparently (I think Jonathan Banks has made a few jokes about this over the years).

So, ultimately, it all comes down to what you're willing to justify and in the case of Better Call Saul, I think it's easier to think that Chuck is justified in what he does because Jimmy eventually becomes the Saul we know from Breaking Bad, but... that's it? Better Call Saul is a prequel, no further questions? So we shouldn't talk about the fact that Chuck is convinced he has the moral high ground over... pretty much anyone? Or how he never gave his own brother the benefit of the doubt, not even after a whole decade spent in ABQ on 'good behavior'? So on and so forth. Chuck is as morally questionable as 99% of the rest of the cast, sweeping it all under the rug to make a point is not the way to go.

#why do i have to go on such long tangents i'm so sorry 😭 #ask

[loveyourlovelysoul]

Suggest me something that I can tell a person who is using bad coping mechanisms like drugs and stuff for their mental health issues.

As mentioned, it's a tough and delicate subject and I'm not a therapist. Plus, sometimes even people close to one in need and knowing the whole story or almost, can't really grasp the depth of it, cause the person doesn't want to say it all or any other reason (feeling a burden, they need to play pretend/keep a positive mind -false belief ofc-, the other cannot understand... -which is true: different people, different situations, different emotional responses... it's all very personal and not easy to generalize either), so I am not sure I can really be of help, but I'll try. Just don't mind me if what I am saying doesn't resonate.

These types of bad coping mechanism are an easy and fast way out of problems, and can feel soothing. And people get addicted to that sense of momentary peace (feelings get numb, negative thoughts disappear...), but again, it's all momentary and fake. Sweeping everything under the rug is never of help, and mixing substances to this habit, can even bring more damages to the person, both as for their health and their relationships. Not to mention the costs of actually buying them. Idk how deep and for how long they've been into this, cause the amount of addiction created can interfere with their will of leaving the use of substances and lucid fight their demons. But ofc this doesn't mean they cannot make it, at all.

I can suggest a few points you can touch, but again it's just a try. I think it's you the one that needs to realize how far you can go and when/how. Maybe you can ask for suggestions to actual therapists or people that knows a little more how to connect with others in similar mental state. Anyway... Empathize with your friend (not that you haven't done it yet, but try to make them open up to you as much as you can -don't force it thought, give it and them time), ask them to talk with you about their problems, or to talk with someone that can be of help. Anyone of their choice. Isolating is not of help, ever. Especially when they feel like everything is too overwhelming and it's as they're being crushed down by all that is going on. Give them hope, remind them that it's not gonna happen, that they're not alone and even if you cannot really understand their feeling you can try to help if they want and let you, or you can have them explain and talk with you (just remember putting emotions into words can be difficult for everyone but for someone so sensitive and in a difficult mental situation can be even harder, don't pressure them if they can't. Help them re-connect with their body: physical pains/outlets can be easier to explain). And if they feel the need to use drugs to escape their issues, remind them it's just momentary and fake: in fact, they need to keep using them, because problems are always there when they re-open their eyes (and this is also why people often use more and more and create the addiction that causes dissociation from themselves and the world around). The only way out is to confront our problems, even if they feel like high mountains that can never be climbed and feel dang scary, maybe they look like monsters. But remind them they don't have to climb it all at once and that even monsters can be defeated (they all have weak spots, but we need to be lucid to find them). It's okay to stop here and there to breathe and look at the view, or just reconnect with our life, even if parts of it sucks and hurt others are good and worthy to be lived fully (maybe give examples). Ofc the mountain and the monster won't ever leave, but we can turn away from them to enjoy a little our present life. And if the monster attacks from behind, it will hurt us, but it won't defeat us, we can always fight and hurt them back, even when we think we can't make it. You can remind them that drugs and alcohol are dangerous, they take people away from life and reality, and even if for some parts (pain, problems…) it can feel soothing, there's a price to pay: they slowly can take people away from the good side of their present life too, like friends and family. And it's easy to lose control over them. We think we can control our addictions, but we cannot. It's all fake. And it's not easy, cause our minds get numb together with our feelings.

Again, one thing is to talk about this subject as rationality and books can tell us but to communicate this with someone (especially in such a delicate situation) is a different endeavour. I wish you to be able to find the help you need to reach their core and help them out of their hurtful bad coping mechanisms. All the best

For some reason, the song "so far away" by staind is standing out to me, maybe there are some words for you and your friend there.

#asks #tw drugs #tw #tw trauma #tw drvgs #tw alcohol #tw substances

[jmatcha]

This is a little weird, feeling ko I'm talking to myself from years ago. Pero I understand your point of view better because it's similar to mine before.

For people like us, relinquishing control can be incredibly hard. We like to have plans A, B, C and so forth. When it works and life actually follows the trajectory we've set up, it can be hard to imagine that one day we'll be pushed to a corner without the luxury of choosing between plans A, B or anything else.

It's hard to imagine, even harder to accept, especially when it seems unnecessary, I get it. But if you look closely, trying to control our lives and who we are requires so much self restrictions. In order for us to perfectly anticipate what happens next we need to have just enough variables so we can easily factor them in and come up with our choice of outcomes, based on how we want life to be.

It's not surprising why people like us are usually goody two shoes. That's the easiest and most predictable path. Do what needs to be done as perfect as we possibly can so we'd reach the most desirable outcome. Magreview para makasagot sa exam. Get good grades to get to the university we want. Check all the required boxes so they won't have the option to say no. Only ask questions we already know the answer to, or don't ask anything at all.

I believe you know what I'm talking about and I'm pretty sure you can look back in life and find a situation when you didn't expect things to end up the way they did. When you've checked all the boxes but things didn't end up the way you thought they would.

Meron yan for sure, minsan akala natin exceptions lang cause there's very few of them. Very few kaya we can sweep them under the rug, hide or bury them kasi it's more convenient. Katulad ng it's convenient to restrict ourselves, limit our choices to keep things under control.

But one day, sooner or later, these supposed exceptions will pile up and the rug won't be enough to keep them under. Those who hold on to the illusion of control usually only learn to choose at an early age, between the emotions they can embrace and disregard. Between parts of themselves they will show off or hide. Usually we choose strength over vulnerability. Indifference over empathy. Black and whites over gray areas. Because it's easier that way, more manageable.

Pero we're bound to lose control one way or another. Minsan nangyayari na, we just don't have the courage yet to accept it. Our emotions both good and bad are bound to seep through the cracks. They're bound to resurface even when we force to keep them under. When in reality there's nothing wrong with them, a little inconvenient but that's what makes us human. We often turn our backs from it kasi we've seen how other people's 'humanity' ruined the lives around us, ours included. Kaya the answer we came up with was to be rigid, feign control. Even choosing to spare ourselves our freedom and happiness in order to do so.

That's the coping mechanism we developed when life was messed up. The kids we were, chose that for ourselves kasi we thought that's the best one. Pero one day, that child inside us would want to cry it all out and we'd be forced to allow it, kahit inconvenient, which it usually is. The child in us who wasn't allowed the privilege to have emotions, forced to mature early, learned to hold back tears.

I know full well that we only accept things and try to understand them when we're finally ready. It's not enough that others are telling us about it, nothing personal, it's just that we've learned to trust ourselves and only ourselves because for us trust is a rare and valuable currency. We have to exhaust all other options first before we relinquish control and allow things to just be. Because it's that hard.

My process took 5 years, countless research, 1 actual therapist and a lot of virtual ones, an exhausted husband, so many restarts, trial and errors but it still doesn't feel natural. I still hold back tears even when I shouldn't, quiet down when I'm upset. It's an arduous process, requires so much courage which on some days I don't have. It didn't make me into a 'better' person but it allowed me to get to know and accept who I really am. Learned to forgive myself for how I've coped. Celebrate the small seemingly unimportant wins and love myself a little better.

I think I've said more things than what I initially meant to. I just want to reiterate that we owe ourselves so so much for staying strong all this time. If it's easier and safer to keep on living life the same way, go on. Pero I hope you know that there's also so much courage in embracing our emotions, indulging the very things that makes us human. Cause after all that's what we literally are, and we can't let life stop us, no matter how cruel it's been so far.

[gargoylelads]

(because i've been watching youtube videos and having loki on the mind-) is anyone else a bit weirded out how, when people making theory or other such videos talk about lady loki, especially recently with lady loki in disney+ series looking like more of a real possibility, they only ever mention the "loki in sif's body" backstory? which yes, is a canon "explanation", shall we say, of lady loki but it's not the only one, and it's certainly not the most recent one? idk it's just strange to me because like you can mention both??

I guess that they would maybe view it as the 'origin' for that iteration of Loki? Maybe it's because when some people hear 'lady loki' the image that comes to mind is of the sif lady Loki and not the one from AoA. But yeah for sure weird to just not mention AoA Loki at all :/

#Actually now that I think about it it might be bc Loki's genderfluidity was what was focused on in AoA to kind of tie in with the themes of #identity and self-determination #But in the sif lady loki comic Loki being a woman was more plot relevant #but it didn't do the same job AoA did of making loki more of an antihero than a villain #also i think it could be bc theres still subsets of ppl who just. dont acknowledge lokis genderfluidity #and find it easier to just sweep it under the rug and point to the one interation where it was used for a scheme #and ignore the comics where its actually explored or like. straight up stated (lookin @ u squirrel girl <3) #any ways thats my ramblings 4 da day #actually youd think whoever makes the vids would want to include the other instances of Lady Loki™ #for like. accuracy's sake #ok now im done. good talk 🤝 #asks #anon #loki #loki series #loki spoilers #loki series spoilers #idk but im gonna tag as spoilers bc id rather b safe than sorry

[asgardwinter]

Loki Laufeyson | masterlist

main masterlist | join the taglist! | ❅ - personal favorites

❅ Series ❅

Classified (complete) ❅

Being responsible for all the TVA archives is an important job but sometimes the lack of adventure makes you bored. When you come in contact with a new variant the drama might make its way to your peaceful archives.

❅ Oneshots ❅

Cruel Timing

At the TVA, Loki is surprised to see you having a huge role in his future, not only in his past as he once thought. (Set into Loki's first episode).

Silly Wooden Box ❅

You thought moving in with Loki would be easier. Turns out he is quite judgy of your belongings.

Out Of The Window

Loki always blocked everyone out and he was fine living like that. Then you appeared in his way and decided to throw his rules out of the window.

Love Again

You swore you’d never love again then met him five minutes later. Feelings just don't work that way.

Refuge ❅

After so much you both endured in this very long existence, all you need is a refuge. (eternal!Reader)

Traditional 🎄

Loki finds out some midgardian traditions that he had no idea about, and he likes it very much.

Turning Point

Shouting and arguing with him was as natural as breathing after all those years, but the solemn silence was different, so different.

Crumpled Words ❅

Those words were all he had from you, and he’d keep them safe and locked away in the darkness.

❅ Blurbs ❅

Sunrise ❅

You’re feeling sad during one of the many asgardian balls and someone takes the mission to cheer you up.

An Average Chef Is The Greatest Teacher

You’re trying to teach Loki, someone who never needed to cook in his life, how to bake a cake.

Who Needs Electricity? ❅

When the power goes out, Loki learns about your fear of the dark and uses a few tricks to make it better.

Stay Here With Me (fictober 21)

All Loki ever needed to calm down was you.

Lemon Pie (fictober 21)

Loki always had a way to predict the climate, maybe it was something about Thor and thunders. But he wasn't going to stand in the way to your lemon pie.

Restless (fictober 21)

College was intense, combined with trying to make your small rock band survive made it even harder. But you and Loki made it work. (college!Loki)

Beginning (fictober 21) ❅

It was just the beginning, wasn’t it?

Ambient Analysis (fictober 21) ❅

You like Loki, Loki doesn’t like you. At least that’s what a little bird told you.

Not The Alcohol (fictober 21)

Loki doesn’t drink too much, at least not often. But when he does it can lead to some… extra loving situations.

Unkind (fictober 21) ❅

Loki was always joking about you being one silly mortal until one day he wasn’t.

Honestly Mischievous (fictober 21)

You’re not a bad loser, Loki just wasn’t an honest player.

Everything (fictober 21) ❅

Loki would take you to the moon — he actually could do it — if it meant you’d hold his hand like that.

First Missions and Confident Plans (fictober 21)

Loki would be having a hard time working with the Avengers and their stupid plans. But sometimes they worked.

Under The Moonlight (fictober 21) ❅

Surviving an apocalypse always leaves a wreckage behind, something you can’t just sweep under the rug.

Tough Human (fictober 21)

You hated seeing him leave, so you decided you’d go with him.

Are we doing this right? 🎄

Two nearly immortal beings against a Christmas tree and it’s decorations. The winner is always a surprise. (eternal!Reader)

Breathless ❅

He’d make you breathless just in order to find his air.

A Promise Sealed With Light ❅

It was news to him, having someone around that came up with such things as plans for the future.

Freezing (400 celebration)

“Love? Are you okay?” The worry in Loki’s voice made you realize he might’ve asked you that a few times. “Just a bit cold.” You said, snuggling against his side.

00:00 (400 celebration)

In some days Loki would learn that the moment the timer reached zero was the moment you welcomed him to your safe place.

Just A Scratch

Sometimes you forgot Loki was a god.

Distracting

He was always so distracting you couldn’t help it.

Would you kiss me if I asked you? ❅

How could you convince Loki you meant every drunk word you said to him?

Never Let You Go

The third night was terrifying. For both of you.

Refreshment

There were two sides to your love and you made sure to enjoy both of them.

No Matter What

“No matter what.” In your voice it sounded like a promise. “No matter what.” In his, it sounded like a fact.

A Love Once Meant For Eternity

You wished you could go back to the day you met just to leave him be.

I Can't Have It Any Other Way

He only wanted to know if you were going to stay.

Versatile (fictober 22)

At first it was all abou weapon choosing, in the end it wasn’t so much about that.

Tiny Little Mortals

A bad day with Loki's antics was always a surprise.

#loki masterlist #loki x reader #asgardwinter masterlist #ignore this... just me trying to fix up my blog

[colinrobinsonn]

ahhh I never write fics but here’s nandor x guillermo after this week’s ep 🥺

- x -

Guillermo sat on the front steps of the house after driving back from dropping off the Baron, the Sire, and the hellhound at their new home in New Jersey. It had been a long, long night and he should really be heading to bed but he just needed a few moments of quiet.

The night air was sharp and the dark sky had only a few clouds overhead. Today had been successful, yes, but also very scary. He wasn’t thinking about facing the Sire, or the Baron again (although it had terrified him). No, he could not let go of the horrible feeling he’d been having all day that he may lose his entire family.

He heard the front door open quietly and he turned round to see Nandor coming out the door and walk towards him.

“Ah, Guillermo, there you are. What are you doing out here? It’s fucking freezing.”

“Just taking a minute.”

Nandor came and sat next to Guillermo on the same top step, looking out onto the street and then up at the sky as Guillermo was. It was quiet for a few moments between them, then Guillermo turned to Nandor, “Was there something you wanted, Master? You were looking for me?”

Nandor didn’t turn to look at him as he said, “Oh, nothing…”

“Okay…” Guillermo let the silence linger on.

“It’s just-“ Nandor began before he noticed Guillermo shiver. He was only wearing his shirt and waistcoat and the sun was, obviously and fortunately for Nandor, yet to come up. “You’re cold.”

Guillermo put his arms around himself, “Yeah, I guess it’s a little chilly.”

“Why don’t you go back inside?”

Guillermo shrugs, not being able to explain why he wants to be outside right now. Maybe he’s enjoying sitting here peacefully with Nandor under the night sky too much. Maybe he needs to clear his head. “But your fragile human body is going to freeze to ice. You don’t want to be made into an ice chip do you, Guillermo?”

“What? I’m not going to-“ he shakes his head, huffing quietly from Nandor’s ridiculousness, “I’m fine.”

Nandor stares at him, fangs bared, like he doesn’t believe him, like he really will turn into an ice chip in a few moments. “Eesh, fine. Here,” he says as he unclasps his black cape and drapes it delicately over Guillermo’s shoulders, and then quickly turns back to look at the sky.

Guillermo froze - not into an ice chip - but out of surprise, slight nervousness, and an uncertainty about how to react to Nandor’s… kindness. “Thank you, Nandor,” he went with, looking up at his strong profile.

“You are welcome, you will not freeze now and I will not have to defrost you and ruin my precious Persian rugs,” he replied matter-of-factly, nodding his head and putting his hands straight out on his knees.

Guillermo grabbed the cape and brought it round his body to wrap up in. The material was very warm and as he brought it up towards his chin he became very aware of being surrounded by Nandor’s very distinct and familiar scent: of oils and incense and musk, of history and comfort and home.

Nandor looked at his bodyguard and felt his dead heart constrict. The sight of Guillermo snuggled into his cape with a content smile on his face challenged Nandor. It challenged him to give in. To give in to feelings of softness towards Guillermo which he mostly did not allow himself to give into, and was always weary of whenever he was around him. Or saw him. Or thought about him. For Nandor, it was Him, for he had become everything. Everything he believed in, everything he fought for, and everything he smiled for. It is suffice to say, he did not win the challenge, but it felt good to lose.

“Guillermo-“, he took a quick breath in and held it, “I came to say that I am sorry for what happened today.”

“Huh? But we did it, we-“

“Just-“ Nandor put his hand up to tell Guillermo to let him finish.

“I am sorry for how you were treated today and if that hurt your feelings. I mean, it should hurt your feelings but I don’t know if you always let it.”

“Mas- Nandor, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Guillermo said. Nandor could literally be talking of about twenty different points today where his feelings could have been “hurt”.

“You know what I am talking about,” Nandor growled, impatient. He shot up off the steps and paced in front of Guillermo. Did he want to make him feel even more ashamed? He guessed he deserved it. He calmed his voice, “I am talking about the time when I allowed for you to be used as bait for the Sire.”

“Oh.” Guillermo breathed out, looking up at Nandor who had stopped his pacing now and was looking at Guillermo. There was a small silence, and then Guillermo also stood up and walked down the steps towards Nandor, cape still round him and falling far below onto the floor.

As he stood in front of Nandor, Nandor could not stand how adorable he looked wearing his cape, oversized on him. It made him feel… protective and proud.

Nandor was too caught up in his thoughts so Guillermo spoke first, “That’s my job, right? To protect you?”

“Yes, I suppose it is…” Nandor said quietly, unsure as Guillermo approached him further.

“But I would have done it anyway. I always would have.” It’s true, he went the extra mile whilst he was his familiar and even before he didn’t know of his bloodline.

Nandor did not know what to say to that. So instead he focused on how the cape was falling off of one of Guillermo’s shoulders. Without thinking, he raised his arm and pulled the material back up and around his shoulder.

He did this with such care and without agenda that it made Guillermo choke up slightly. He felt tingly all in his chest and willed himself to hold on. To not fall too far tonight, as he did so many nights, especially since Meg’s comments at Massive Fitness. As much as he was committed to Nandor, he could never let himself believe that Nandor felt the same.

The small act felt unnaturally natural for Nandor. When he fully comprehended what he was doing, he did not have the instinct to jump back and push Guillermo away, to tell him to get out of his way. Instead, the act made his next words come much easier.

“Guillermo… it should be my job to protect you. You came into my life, and it is a dangerous one. I have… taken too much from you, and you should not be willing for me to take your life.”

The double meaning was there. Yes, he was talking about what happened today, but Guillermo could not help but apply Nandor’s words to his own vampiric dream.

“No.” Guillermo could not, would not, keep going on like this. “It’s not that you have taken too much from me, Nandor,” he said with conviction, “it’s that you haven’t given me enough.”

“Guillermo…-“

“I’d die for you,” Guillermo said bluntly and laughed, “you know that? I would actually die for you. Not become undead, not become a vampire, I would die.”

Nandor looked away from him and took a step back, “Do not speak this way, Guillermo.”

“And I’m fine with that, I am,” he continued, “you’re not taking anything away from me, I’m giving it to you, because I want to. Because that’s how I feel.” Guillermo felt breathless from the outburst and he was slightly shaking, not just from nerves, but because the cape had unwound itself from his middle and only lay across his shoulders again. He shook his head slightly; tonight of all nights he was going to go there. “How do you feel, Nandor?”

“I-“ Nandor was stunned and his brain was working overtime to keep up with his little ex-familiar.

In all of his anxious tension, Nandor’s hesitance was too much. Guillermo huffed and span round to go back inside.

Nandor’s chest clenched and his heart fell, he couldn’t stand the sight of Guillermo walking away from him anymore. “Wait-“ he said as he grabbed Guillermo’s hand and gently pulled him back round to face him. The cape fell off his back.

Guillermo looked up at him, small tears in his eyes as he waited with little hope. His optimistic heart started again, however, when Nandor brought his hand up and drew his fingers through the front of Guillermo’s hair, sweeping it gently to the side and pushing small strands behind his ear. Guillermo’s heart was beating so hard he was sure Nandor could hear it, feel it even. His hand landed delicately on Guillermo’s cheek, like he was touching something precious, and he leaned in.

As their lips touched tears ran down Guillermo’s cheek which Nandor smoothly wiped away with the pads of his thumbs, as he brought his other hand to Guillermo’s other cheek. Guillermo was once again encased by Nandor, except this was the real thing and infinitely better. Guillermo’s hand found its way to Nandor’s neck, his fingertips pushing their way into his hair.

The kiss was gentle and undemanding; a shy but loving meeting with someone you have loved for years. Nandor pulled away but only slightly, so their foreheads rested against each other’s. Their eyes were both closed as they breathed unevenly with each other.

“Guillermo, I would die a thousand times over for you to have one more minute alive.”

Guillermo, teary, giggled dizzily and with relief at the vampire’s words and opened his eyes to find Nandor’s still closed.

“Hey,” Guillermo said as he leaned away and gently urged Nandor to open his eyes by putting his hand under his chin, “so… we’ll protect each other, right?”

Nandor had opened his eyes and was looking down at Guillermo who wore a bright, understanding smile on his face. His cheeks were quite pink and so Nandor leaned down to pick up the fallen cape and pull it back around the smaller man. He held on to Guillermo’s hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the top of it, where the knuckles lay. “Always.”

#im so embarrassed hahah #goodbye #nandor x Guillermo #nandermo #what we do in the shadows #nandermo fic #wwdits #mypost

[babblydrabbly]

worship by LACES gives me major Rick Flag x Criminal!Reader vibes

Maybe Just Break Me || Drabble

Pairing(s): Rick Flag x Criminal Neutral!Reader; Past June Moone x Rick Flag

Warning(s): Angst! Language. Blood/Violence. Reader is harsh on themselves 🥺

[ A/N: I could write every different which way to fall in love with the same man. Even the sad ways ;-; Reader was at Midway for this little Drabble but takes place sometime after. ]

You’re too busy in your own head to see the way he already looks at you.

---

"You can fuck off back to your cell and rot for all I give a shit."

He's not even speaking to you directly. But it’s enough.

You stay silent as the rest of the squad airs out their grievances; Boomerang cocks his arm back like he might sucker punch Flag, but the little psych-out doesn't even make the Colonel flinch. It's posturing. It's eye roll inducing, considering the dire circumstances; You all stand in a circle surrounded by piles and piles of dead bodies, waiting to move at Waller's command. The team had failed the first half of this mission. Another fuck up and you might all get your heads blown off.

All of you, except Flag.

It's also a nice little wake up call.

You wander away from the group as you all lose the steam from the recent gunfight. Taking a seat on some concrete debris, you fold your arms over your chest, no longer interested in way Flag is putting Boomer in his place. Fuck off back to your cell.

You've lost track of who's saved who more at this point. It's become second nature, the way you keep your back to Flag's at any sign of danger. You feel a sting in your side even now— The flash of a serrated blade had only grazed your skin thanks to him shoving you out of the way.

Flag storms over to you, stopping to pace in front of you as he speaks to Waller over his earpiece. When he’s finished, he crouches to sit beside you.

"Fuckin’ assholes, I swear.” He confides. You nod absently, picking at a tear on your suit’s knee.

“Where the fuck is he always finding somethin’ to drink?” Flag goes on, exasperated. Finally, he looks at you, sees the frown on your bloody lip.

“Hey. You okay?”

You’re tired. And anxious now. “Fine. I’ll be peachy when I get back home. Put my orange coveralls in my cell back on, you know?” You say. There isn’t even any of your fire in it. And Rick is turning to you, eyes flitting to gauge if you’re joking or not. The rest of the squad meanders to rest in other parts of the area, giving him the space to lean forward and speak to you in a quiet voice.

“That wasn’t a dig on you, [y/n].”

You huffed. “It was a dig on everyone here, Colonel.”

“Colonel?” Rick presses his lips together, taken aback. You’ve never called him that. Not once.

Maybe in another life, this thing didn’t hang above the two of you. This imbalance of power, always keeping the two of you apart. Or maybe that’s what you told yourself it was; it was easier to think Rick was a professional than it was to swallow how he’d never reciprocate feelings for someone like you. You’d given him the time and space, and still it wasn’t enough.

You have to silence the uproar of voices in your head barking and jeering at you as you sit there. Maybe you weren’t a supervillain. But the personnel at the prison made you feel like one. At a certain point, being treated however they felt like treating you had begun to blur the line between what was real. It stopped feeling like you were serving time for a sentence diligently, and more like a unending circle of hell— Like you were already too damned to go back out into the world even if you lived through your tenure on the Squad.

“It really doesn’t matter what I do here, does it?” You whisper, almost to yourself. Rick is still staring at you, reading your expression that’s breaking under his gaze. You turn your head to the ground and wish he’d look away— wish the things being said to you in you’re head weren’t in Rick’s voice. “I ended up here in the first place…Maybe I do deserve all this.”

You see Rick swallow thickly from your peripheral.

Fuck, you were a genius, weren’t you? First you had taken the gamble— you looked him square in the eyes and told him how you felt. And when he told you about June… Fuck.

Then it still didn’t stop you. Not from caring about Rick Flag all this time after, not from always having his six no matter the cost. Even though June was awhile ago now, it didn’t matter. You weren’t someone like her.

You feel arms around you, encircling you in a hug that makes the corner of your eye prick with a small tear. Flag doesn’t even know what to say to you, and that just sort of proves your point doesn’t it?

You live in this moment as wholly as you can, taking in every microscopic detail. You inhale, breathe in what it’s like to be loved by someone with more conviction and devotion than you’d ever be capable of.

But Rick doesn’t know what to say, because if someone as beautiful and determined to find redemption as you deserves to be here— Rick thinks that must means hes double fucked. You deserve this? He’s never heard a bigger lie in his fucking life.

The two of you sweep the moment under the rug when Wallers voice returns over the comms. When you pull apart you look away again, ensuring you miss whatever it is that’s about to pour from Rick’s lips. Another order? An apology?

He’s hurt you before. Rick’s sworn to never mess with you that way again. Even if it means keeping what’s changed about the way he feels to himself now— Because it just wasn’t fair to you. Jerking you around like this when you’ve already given him space for both your sakes. Rick closes his mouth.

And in another life, maybe the two of you have better timing.

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #Rick flag x you #Rick flag imagine #Rick flag angst #this song was so bittersweet anon 🥺 #mywords* #babblyanswers #anon #angst

[nekropsii]

Thoughts out of genuine curiosity: which characters do you think suck morally in ways that should stay a part of their character in fanon and which suck in ways that you believe can/should be omitted or rewritten in fanon?

Oh, I like this one. This is one of those questions I rarely see people stop to ask themselves, but it’s one absolutely worth thinking about.

Personally... I think that the only reasons people should rework (maybe not omit) a character being morally awful is because-

It’s written poorly.

That’s it. That’s the only reason.

Listen. I know this is a concept that’s very difficult for some people to grasp considering the current online climate, but hear me out. You’re allowed to like characters that are horrible people. It’s not illegal. It’s not a crime. Villains have been fan favorites in every form of media for literal centuries. Conflict is what drives a story. In order for that conflict to work, it has to be compelling, it has to be threatening- and what easier way to achieve that than by making someone who is just a horrible person?

If a character is some form of antagonist, major or not, and they’re a horrible person, and their actions disgust you, good. That is the point.

If a character is a horrible person, and their actions disgust you, and you find them intriguing because of it, you do not have to ignore the fact that they’re a vile person. If their evilness- personal, grandiose, and all levels in between- disturb you, you do not have to sweep that under the rug in order to come across as someone who doesn’t condone their actions. In fact, if you write over a character’s trait of being an abuser, you might just come across as someone who either condones their actions or doesn’t think they’re a big deal. Both are bad.

Making Cronus out to be “not that bad,” or Kankri out to be “secretly a good person,” is not... good! It’s not good. It’s bad.

Ignoring Vriska’s past actions is bad. Ignoring Meenah’s actions... Is bad. Ignoring Gamzee’s abusive traits... Is bad.

Do I think people aren’t allowed to enjoy these characters because they did/do some shitty, god-awful things? No! But you can’t erase that they aren’t good people in your fanon without it coming across wrong, ESPECIALLY considering that the abuse some of these characters inflict onto others is textually based in ableism.

You can’t erase how horrible Cronus is without me wondering how human you see Mituna as. You can’t erase how horrible Kankri is without me wondering the exact same thing, and questioning if you realize how much of a misogynistic bootlicker he is. You can’t erase how horrible Vriska was without me wondering how much you think Tavros deserved that treatment.

Now, as far as characters I genuinely think deserve some reworking... I’m not saying that these characters need to be completely torn down and made into something unrecognizable. That’s lame, and it removes the challenge.

Damara, Gamzee, and Kurloz.

I know, weird choices, right? I don’t think Gamzee is even necessarily poorly written. I actually really like him as a character, if he’s reworked just a little. What I want to focus on here is the degree of racism in which their characters were written with. THAT, in my opinion, is worthy of some rewrites. Just... Remove that, and you’re good!

#homestuck #homestuck fandom #homestuck meta #cronus ampora #kankri vantas #vriska serket #meenah peixes #gamzee makara #kurloz makara #damara medigo #nekro.pdf #nekro.sms

[storiesiwrite]

Anchor ☾ Lee Chan

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, college!au

Word count: 2322

Summary: In which Chan struggles with perfectionism during dance practice and you’re there to remind him how wonderful he is. 

☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎

Today isn’t his day, Chan realizes. In fact, the last few days haven’t been. 

He hates how his perfectionism tends to get in the way, how it tends to intervene when all he wants to do is lose himself in the choreography. That’s the main reason he resorts to dancing after all—it gives him a means to elude the stress university brings, frustration pouring out of his system through his movements, blending into the music seamlessly, metamorphosing into art. It’s his form of catharsis ever since he can remember.

Usually, when Chan dances, time leaps and everything else around him blurs. He only stops when his limbs begin to burn with fatigue, or when his concentration has waned; there’s no point in training further when he’s physically in the studio, yet his mind wanders elsewhere. But these days, dance practice seems to drag on and on like a chore. It’s a reminder of how far from perfect he is and how much left he has yet to accomplish. 

He’s well aware of how unattainable his goals are, and that the pursuit of perfection kills the joy he finds when he moves. And yet, he can’t silence the thoughts in his head. He hates himself for that.

Dancing has always been his favored activity, his safe haven. Now he just wants to run away from it.

Needless to say, he’s been trying to hide his feelings from everyone else around him. Sure, he’s been quieter than he normally is—and less playful, too—but he still laughs whenever the situation calls for it, though even he can hear the strain woven in his laughter. He still plasters on a smile, though the act itself requires more effort nowadays. He tries to sweep it under the rug, tries to brush it off whenever you ask him if he’s alright. 

The choreography is physically demanding, he’d say to you. Even though that’s true to some extent, it’s his mind that wears him down.

The thing is, for all his effort, Chan knows you know that something is amiss with him. He knows, having sensed it in the way you kept on casting him wary looks for the better part of the dance practice today. Yesterday too, and the days before. He imagines that the shift in his demeanor, minor as it may be, isn’t lost on you.

And now, walking you home as the day comes to a close, he wonders if you’re eventually going to bring it up.

The sky is a vast stretch of livid blue with the occasional streaks of purple and, in the distance, the dull shine of the crescent moon. Chan’s gaze falls to the copses of trees surrounding a nearby park, to the crevices littering the sidewalk, to the lampposts strewn along his and your way. While he’d usually steal glances at you, he doesn’t do that tonight. He doesn’t want you noticing the sadness pricking his eyes. 

But of course, despite the dark, you do. You always do.

“Are you okay?” You ask, cutting through the silence, your fingers gently resting on his wrist. They linger there, the touch feather-light yet it snags his whole attention and stops him in his tracks. It sends him reeling. “You’re just not the way you usually are. You haven’t been in the last few days.” 

Sometimes he wishes you weren’t so observant. Sometimes he wishes your suspicion isn’t so spot on. 

“What do you mean?” He asks in an attempt to feign confusion, but you both know it’s not working. You know him too well and you’re too perceptive for that—it’s one of the things he adores about you. Even so, he doesn’t want you worrying about him. He doesn’t want to be the reason your smile crumbles, not when it’s what keeps him going during times when the easier option is to just give up. 

When it becomes clear that you’re not dropping the subject any time soon, Chan decides there’s no point in trying to hide his dejection any longer. 

“You needn’t worry about me.” A smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Today hasn’t been great, but I’ll be okay, I promise you.”

It seems like the right thing to say. But in all honesty, he doesn’t know whether it’s you or himself he’s trying to convince.

You seem to be considering your next words carefully. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” You offer, moving closer to him, your voice soft as if letting him in on a secret. “We can do anything you like. Do you wanna bake chocolate chip cookies and drink jasmine tea? I know they’re your favorites.”

Chan genuinely smiles. You’re right. They’re his favorite go-tos for whenever he feels disheartened, and the fact that you remember that means the world.

“Or would you rather I gave you space?” You quickly add as an afterthought.

For a moment, he says nothing. He struggles to meet your gaze, for fear that you’d read the thoughts running through his mind when you look into his eyes. For fear that you’d find the answer to your question, and how easily it comes to him. Stay with me. I don’t care what we do or what we don’t. I want you to be with me. I want only you.

In the last few months, there have been many times when he was so close to confessing his feelings for you. All these times, he never did. He’d tell himself it’s because he couldn’t weave his emotions into words, but even he knows that’s a pathetic excuse.

Because there were times when he could find the words, and yet he would back out at the last minute like the coward he was—like the coward he is, choking back his emotions and uttering something else entirely instead. There were times when he thought alcohol would be the only way out, giving him the courage he very much needs yet lacks, stripping him of the insecurities that plague him whenever he is sober. 

But now? Now, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want you thinking he’s fooling around, liquor running through his veins and muddling his thoughts. No—when he confesses to you, he wants you to know he genuinely means it. 

Now, underneath the lamppost on the deserted street, with your hand closing over his and the wind stinging the side of his face, he stifles his fears and tackles his doubts head-on. 

“Stay,” he breathes. One word, but it holds the weight of his world in its letters.

It holds so much want, so much desperation, and now that it hangs between you both, he feels unraveled. It betrays his secrets, his pent-up feelings for you spilling out of his lips and wafting through the air like thick smoke. And as he looks up to finally, finally see you, he wonders if you can sense them, if you can sense how much he’s wanted this. How much he’s wanted you.  

He thinks of the worry lacing your tone as you asked him how he is, takes in the way you’re looking at him now. He remembers how you always remind him to eat during practice hours, sometimes even bringing him food when his schedule is packed. How you recall the trivial things he’s mentioned to you in passing. He can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve given him support and the strength to continue even when his limbs fail him. 

You’re his anchor. You keep him grounded when his mind wants to run miles. You keep his feet steady when the world tilts. He’s grateful for you. Truly. At the same time, as much as he wants to be with you, he can’t imagine you would be willing to stick with him for the long run, not when you see the negativity that resides in his mind. 

You’re too good for me, he thinks to himself. You’re too kind, too wonderful, and I’m undeserving. 

Your fingers slowly intertwine with Chan’s, pulling him out of his train of thoughts. Something in your expression is akin to a warm encouragement. Go on, it seems to say. Stop holding back and let it all out. And so he does. 

He begins telling you that he hasn’t been feeling alright and that today, in particular, was tough. He expresses how isolating it can be to be confined within his own negativity, explains the pressure that weighs him down like bricks whenever he dances. This is him in his most vulnerable state, and he’s grateful there’s no hint of judgment as you listen to his ramblings. 

On the other hand, you’re grateful, too. Grateful that he trusts you with something so personal because you know first-hand how difficult it is to open up. At some point, his voice begins to crack. The moment you pull him into a warm hug, his emotions burst with the intensity of a dam. He sobs and sobs and sobs, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and seeing him this way is a punch to the gut. 

He apologizes for staining your sweater with his tears, for troubling you with his fears. An onslaught of “I’m sorry”s which you can tell stems from the depths of his heart, but you shake your head at his attempts of an apology. He has nothing to be sorry for. 

If anything, you think it’s you who should be apologizing to him. He’s hurting, for God’s sake, and all you can do is stand there helplessly with him in your arms, trying to find ways to make things better for him and coming away empty-handed. Frustration rushes through you, and you feel like a useless fool. 

You hate that you’re unable to help him get through this when he’s helped you tremendously. It’s a debt you have yet to pay. 

“Chan,” you begin when he can’t seem to speak further, rubbing his back softly. You recall the way you flinched when he called himself a failure not long ago. You’ve always been the type of person who shies away from confrontation, but you’d gladly argue with anyone who dares perceive him that way. 

“The things you call yourself, they’re not true. They’re not true at all. You’re not a failure. You’re not at all a failure. It breaks me when you treat yourself that way, when you beat yourself up. I just wish—” a pause to collect yourself. A rawness in your voice. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you.

“You’re the strongest, most talented person I’ve ever met. The most diligent. You’re an inspiration to the lot of us, you know. You make us amateurs want to work hard to better ourselves so that we can be even half as good as you are.” At that, Chan lets out an incredulous laugh.

“I’m being serious,” you tell him. “If only you knew how much people admire you. Please, please, don’t you ever think of yourself that way. You’re a wonderful artist and an amazing person, Chan, you truly are. And if you ever need reminding, or a shoulder to cry on, or simply a person to distract you from practice, you can always go to me. Always.”

His grip tightens the slightest bit, though he stays silent. You don’t know how many minutes have passed by as you and Chan continue to stand there, locked in an embrace. He seems to have calmed himself down, but both of you seem loath to let go of the other. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Thank you for hearing me out. For the kind things you said, for believing in me and putting up with me even when I’m like this.”

“No worries,” you say, because you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because he deserves the best the world has to give. “Thank you for trusting me with this. I know it mustn’t have been easy to talk about it. I hope you know how brave you are for this.”

He pulls away to look at you. His eyes and nose are stained red, his hair disheveled. “I’m really glad you’re my dance partner. I don’t think I’d prefer anybody else.”

You can’t wipe the smile off your face. It lingers there as you both stop by the nearest supermarket to pick up the ingredients needed to bake chocolate chip cookies. It lingers there as you both binge-watch his favorite sit-com at your place, mugs of jasmine tea settled on the low table in front of the sofa you and Chan are perched on. You have a hard time paying attention to the show with him sitting so close to you, his smile so intoxicating, his laughter so infectious. His happiness is all that matters to you. 

As the night drags on, you realize not for the first time how easy it is to be with him, how you’d never run out of topics to talk about. The conversation never stops, and you don’t want it to. You realize you’ve never laughed so much nor felt so comfortable with someone before. It’s so terribly easy to be in love with him. 

“You can always go to me,” you whisper to him at some point, when there are no cookies left on the baking tray and the tea in your mug has gone cold. It’s the same thing you said as you held him close under the streetlight; you just want to make sure he knows you’re always there for him. “You can always go to me whenever you want. And I’ll stay with you however long you want me to.”

He turns his head sideways, taking you in. He’s so close that your bodies are almost touching. “Likewise,” he whispers back, his hand gently reaching out for yours. 

It’s a promise, a pledge you both keep. 

#seventeen #dino #lee chan #dino fanfic #lee chan fanfic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #dino imagines #lee chan imagines #dino x reader #lee chan x reader

[imaginingsoftly]

Apartment 352 Pt. 2 - Erik Johnson

Type: strangers-lovers

Requested: no

Warnings: blood, cuts and scrapes

A/N: Hopefully this redeems Erik a little bit for you guys :)

Day two of unpacking was marginally better than the first, if only because Emma’s giant of a neighbor hadn’t been around to witness her trip on the top step yet again that morning. She was still nursing a slightly sore and bruised knee a few hours later, when the next big dangerous task came up; hanging a couple of pictures. The task itself shouldn’t have been dangerous, but the frames were big enough she was going to need to stand on a chair to hang them up high. Emma took a deep breath, hauled up the heavy frame, and took a step onto the chair.

It took seconds for things to go wrong. Her back foot caught on the arm of the chair as Emma stepped up, and she immediately slipped sideways into the shelf right next to her ribcage. The frame smashed on the wall, and Emma felt pain in her forearm as a shard of glass nicked her.

There wasn’t time to do anything except brace herself. The shelf crashed to the ground, taking the ugly-ass plates from her aunt and a framed picture of her best friend with it. Emma wobbled on the chair, but kept her balance. “Shit,” she mumbled to the wall. Shards of glass from the picture frame and pieces of the ceramic plates littered the ground around the chair, and the radius of the shards was too far to jump. There was maybe enough space for her to step around them, but in bare feet Emma wasn’t looking forward to the prospect.

A pounding at Emma’s door almost made her fall off the chair. A muffled voice came from behind the door. “You good?” She heaved a sigh. Of course Erik would be the one to find her like this.

“Door’s unlocked! Come in!” He was inside before she’d even finished talking. It took a full ten seconds, she counted, before he moved from the entryway. Emma shifted uncomfortably on the chair as he took in her appearance, from her bare feet to the disheveled mess of her hair. It was only when he looked in the direction of her legs that she realized they were bare except for where the hem of her oversized t-shirt just covered her underwear. For approximately the thousandth time since she’d met Erik, Emma cursed her clumsiness. She shifted uncomfortably as Erik continued to stand completely still. It wasn’t until she began to step down from the chair gingerly, looking for a safe space to put her bare feet, that he moved.

No giant should be able to move as quickly as he did. Erik took three long strides to reach her, glass and ceramic crunching under his sneakered feet. “Don’t you dare.” His words were a warning, and Emma froze. Huge hands, warm and strong, slid around her shoulders and behind her knees. Erik lifted her into his arms gently, and she automatically clenched her arms around his neck. “Angel, I think I’m gonna have to wrap you in bubble wrap to keep you safe.” Erik’s voice, low and gravelly as it was in the moment, rumbled through his chest and Emma could feel it against her torso where their bodies touched. She wasn’t even going to think about the way her stomach fluttered at the nickname.

Erik carried her clear of the mess on her floor, only placing her on the ground once they were several feet away. For a split second it felt like he pulled her tighter into his chest, but then her feet were on the ground and he was stepping back slightly. “You okay?” Erik’s hands settled on the tops of her arms as he spoke, and his eyes scanned her body quickly. She opened her mouth to confirm that she was fine when his gaze settled on her forearm. “Sweetheart, you’re bleeding.” Emma looked down, and sure enough the nick she’d felt was actually a sizeable cut. Blood ran down her arm at a slightly higher volume than a trickle. It probably should have been more concerning than it was, but Emma’s thoughts were more on the fact that Erik hadn’t ever actually called her by her name. It was always ‘sweetheart’ or ‘angel’. Come to think of it, maybe she hadn’t ever actually told him her name. Who does that? He had been in her apartment, for fucks’ sake.

“Where’s your bathroom?” Erik’s voice cut through her thoughts, and Emma pointed mutely. He caught the hand on her good arm in a gentle grip and pulled her across the living room. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Emma felt like putty in Erik’s hands as he moved her around, gently lifting her onto the counter and maneuvering her arm under the faucet. The water ran pink, and Emma closed her eyes. Of all the things to defeat her, it just had to be blood. A cool hand settled on her cheek as her brain went a little fuzzy. “Hey. Stay with me sweetheart. You good?”

Emma shook her head. “Don’t like blood,” she rasped through a bone-dry throat. “I’m okay.” The cool hand slipped from her cheek to the back of her head, and Erik put gentle pressure there.

“Lean on me. Don’t look, I’ll clean you up.” Emma followed the press of Erik’s hand, leaning her forehead into his shoulder. “Atta girl. I’ve got you.” His voice rumbled through his chest, and Emma felt it where her shoulder and good arm touched his side.

Any of the lingering irritation she’d felt towards him over yesterday was gone. If anything, Emma now had a soft spot for her next-door neighbor. “It’s Emma.” Erik’s hands stilled from where they were rinsing out her arm for a split second before starting up again. “I just realized I never actually told you my name.”

The sound of a bottle opening and liquid splashing registered seconds before Emma felt a slight sting on her cut. “Emma.” She shivered at the sound of Erik’s gravelly voice saying her name. “Short and sweet. Suits you.” She felt his smile against the top of her head. “I don’t think you need stitches, but I am going to put a band-aid and some bacitracin on this. Don’t want you to get an infection or anything.”

Emma nodded into Erik’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Erik said nothing as he finished patching up her arm, but then she felt an arm come around her back and tug her torso closer into Erik’s chest. “Don’t mention it, Angel. Just promise me you won’t hang things barefoot anymore?”

That was an easy thing to agree to. Emma nodded. “You keep seeing me at my worst,” she mumbled into Erik’s chest grumpily. At this rate, he was going to see her drastically injure herself by the end of the first week. She stiffened against his chest at the thought. What was next? A grease fire? Falling down the stairs? Cutting a finger off while cooking?

Her doomsday thoughts were interrupted by a slight tug on her hair. “Hey. Your thoughts are so loud I can practically hear them. If this is your worst, I’m almost afraid to see how incredible you are at your best.”

Emma leaned back to see Erik smirking at her. “Are you flirting with me?” His smirk became a full-on grin.

“Been flirting with you the whole damn time, Angel, you just didn’t catch on.” Emma gaped at her neighbor as he stepped back, instantly lamenting the loss of his warmth. “Now that you’ve got that figured out, dinner Saturday?” She cocked her head at him choosing a day three days in advance, and he shrugged. “Figured I’d be a good guy and let you get settled before I sweep you off your feet.”

That was it. Emma barked out a laugh, and Erik looked far too proud of himself. “Yeah, Casanova, you can take me out Saturday.” Not that she’d ever let him actually get somewhere with her. She slid off the counter, and Erik was immediately there with an arm out to steady her when she stumbled slightly. As infuriating as her new neighbor was, she couldn’t help but find him adorable too.

He walked out of the bathroom, and Emma took a second to settle her legs before she tried to walk. The blood really had thrown her off, and she needed to take a couple of deep breaths. By the time Emma made it back out into her living room, Erik was already picking up the large chunks of glass littering her entryway. “You don’t have to-” Emma stopped when he held up a hand.

“I don’t mind helping you clean this up. Besides, some of this stuff has blood on it. I don’t want you to get woozy and step on glass.” His words were slightly domineering, but also sweet. “You’re still barefoot; can you grab me your vacuum without stepping near the glass?” Erik glanced backwards at her, nodding when she gestured in the direction of her bedroom. “Grab that for me, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Emma took a deep breath as she stepped into her bedroom. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone looking out for her, especially a potential romantic interest. Her last boyfriend hadn’t even cared when she spent a night in the hospital, let alone if she stepped on a piece of glass.

She stepped back out of her room with her vacuum in hand. “I can vacuum this stuff up, Erik, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Erik looked over from where he stood by her trash can and pinned her with a glare. “I said I’d help you clean this shit up, and I’m going to do what I said.” Emma opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “I know you don’t need my help and you are perfectly capable of doing it yourself, but I want to do this for you.” His face softened. “Sweetheart, in the two days I’ve known you you’ve fallen up the stairs at least once, taken out a shelf, and sliced the shit out of your arm. It seems like you’re having a rough week, and I want to make it a little easier. Can you let me do that?”

Damn him, he was saying everything right. Emma sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. He smiled gently and reached out a hand for the vacuum. “Thank you, Angel.”

She stood back and watched Erik vacuum up the area around her chair, carefully lifting the chair and the corner of the area rug to make sure he got everything. He even wrapped up the cord when he was finished. “Thank you,” Emma mumbled. Her neighbor flashed a smile in her direction before stalking towards her.

“Saturday.” He ran a thumb across her cheekbone, smiling again. “Try not to end up in a hospital or anything before then, yeah?”

Emma smacked Erik’s arm as he let out a bark of laughter. He was still laughing as he strode towards her front door, and Emma could hear him chuckling to himself even from the hallway.

#apartment 352 #erik johnson imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

[night-fallz]

Jason Todd x Avengers Crossover

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Unexpected (part 3)

If he knew that he would be blamed for murdering someone the moment he got back to Gotham, then Jason would’ve waited another week or two before returning.

No matter what a lot of people said, Jason wasn’t stupid. He knows not to expect things that were unlikely to happen.

Jason couldn’t risk raising his hopes when it came to the bats.

He knew that he wasn’t gonna receive a warm welcome filled with hugs and cupcakes. Honestly, the most he expected was a nod of acknowledgment. And if he was lucky, then maybe- maybe he would’ve gotten a smile with the quiet whisper of a welcome back.

It made his heart twist in all the wrong ways to know that his family didn’t trust him as much as he thought. Jason genuinely believed that he and the bats were on good enough terms to earn him the benefit of the doubt.

He forced himself not to flinch as he met Batman’s harsh, distrustful gaze.

“I wasn’t even here when he was killed,” Jason tried to say as calmly as he could, knowing that if he loses his temper, everyone would use it against him. “I was following a case up in New York.”

He couldn’t go back to Arkham! Not again. Not with the Joker only a few cells away from him, taunting him with his laughter— his voice filled with cruel exhilaration as he continuously promised Jason that they would play together once again. How he would soon be reunited with his favorite playmate.

His favorite Robin.

He heard someone suck in a breath behind him.

Jason didn’t expect anyone to defend him. Not against Batman. But still-

He didn’t expect them to just stand and watch as Batman tore him into shreds once again. Batman threw accusation over accusation, yet he never once provided a single piece of evidence that proved it was Jason that did it.

He took a step towards Jason and he had to force himself not to flinch. Batman wouldn’t… not with his kids in the same room.

He ignored the rising panic in his stomach. Jason was safe.

He was safe.

Bruce wouldn’t beat him in the cave. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of Damian.

Jason would be able to walk out of the cave with his ability to walk. He was gonna be okay.

“Look, B. You can even ask them,” he pointed at the spot where Dick and the others were standing. “I told them that I was leaving Gotham for a while.”

Batman turned to where Jason was pointing. “Well?” he asked expectantly.

The cave was engulfed in eerie silence before Tim opened his mouth, faltering a little when he met Jason’s pleading gaze. “He’s not lying Bruce. He told me that he had a mission out of Gotham while we were hanging out a few weeks ago.”

Jason could feel his chest loosen up for a few seconds, thankful that Tim confirmed his statement.

He remembered the day that Tim was talking about. The bats were getting even clingier than usual. They weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were following Jason anymore.

Tim asked Jason if he wanted to watch a movie and Jason agreed.

The bats were gonna be watching him anyways— they didn’t even try to hide the fact that they bugged him and all the known safehouses he has.

At this point, Jason didn’t know whether he should feel offended with how much they underestimated or relieved.

They already viewed him as dangerous and unpredictable. If they ever find out that Jason’s been holding back, even if it was just a little-

He won’t let them throw him back to Arkham. Jason would rather go back to the League of Assassins.

If Jason wasn’t watching Batman so closely, he would’ve missed the sliver of a nod the man-made.

Jason tried not to think of the fact that Bruce immediately accepted Tim’s answer without hesitation.

For the millionth time in this conversation, he wished that he was wearing his helmet. Instead, he forced his expression to remain calm. To remain bored as turned back to Bruce an eyebrow raised.

“Is that good enough proof for you, old man?” he couldn’t help but spit out, bitterness clear in his voice.

Batman remained unaffected, not even bothering to verbally answer Jason’s question. Instead, he just nodded.

Jason’s heart clenched, of course, he wouldn’t get an apology. Batman was too prideful for that.

“Truth.” Cassandra’s voice rang across the cave, breaking the heavy silence. “No… not lie.”

Batman nodded once again and Cassandra’s eyes met his. It took everything in him to stop a retort from coming out of his mouth.

Couldn’t she have said that a few minutes ago? Before Batman ripped him apart like he was nothing but flimsy paper.

Still, he guessed he should be thankful that she defended him. Even though it was too late.

After a few seconds of no one saying anything, Dick broke the awkwardness with an annoying smile on his face. “Now that that’s settled, why don’t we get that movie started?”

It was only because of all his training that Jason didn’t break down right there.

Of course this was just another thing that they’d sweep under the rug. Something that they would never want to speak off again.

Discussions of what movie they were supposed to watch erupted the room. It didn’t take long for an argument to break out between Damian and Tim.

Jason watched the scene for a few seconds before looking away.

They looked like a real family.

He turned away, these things happened frequently enough for Jason to know that he wasn’t welcomed.

He blocked out all the noise as he walked towards his helmet, eager to put it back on.

It was only a matter of luck that the universe hated him so much that he knocked something down, the thumping noise alerting everyone that he was about to leave.

Jason couldn’t help but feel relieved that he put on his helmet as soon as he got his hands on it.

At least he didn’t have to go to all the trouble to force his expression to remain impassive anymore.

Batman could use it against him.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed, “Where are you going, Jay? I thought you were joining us tonight.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’m not in the mood to watch a stupid movie tonight.” Jason spits out.

Was Dick being serious right now? There were so many things wrong with that question.

One: Why would Jason want to spend more time with the people who thought he murdered someone and didn’t even bother to defend him.

And two-

No one invited Jason.

Before anyone could say anything else, Jason hopped on his motorcycle. He needed to get out of the cave.

He could feel their eyes on his back but no one bothered to stop him.

The last thing he heard was Cassandra’s voice assuring the bats. “Be back,” she said with enough confidence that one would think that she could command Jason to turn around with only her words. “He will be back.”

Jason held in the harsh remark that threatened to leave his lips.

Plus, it wasn’t like Cassandra was lying. He knew it— and hell, the rest of Bats probably knew it too.

Jason would come back. He always did.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

But for now, he needed to get away. He thought that one week would be enough to calm the pit.

It wasn’t.

In fact, he feels like the interaction with the bats today just made it worst.

He’ll stay away from them for two weeks. That should be enough time for the pit to stop screaming at him.

But who would he stay with?

Jason had enough experience to know that the best way to calm the pit was to surround yourself with people you trust.

Kori and Roy were still in space.

And Talia was busy with the civil war against Ra’s.

Jason had no one else.

Except-  

His phone grew heavier in his pocket and he remembered that an Avenger owed him a favor.

Clint said that Jason could text him whenever.

And the more he thought about it, the more Jason decided that he did trust the archer in some way.  

Jason soon found himself staring at the side mirror of the vehicle and poisonous green eyes stared back.

He quickly averted his eyes.

Clint was his last choice. And Jason couldn’t risk being in the peak of a pit episode without anyone to keep him in his place.  

He could do this.

It wasn’t like he had another choice.

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notes:

Balancing out school and volleyball was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Only one month has passed and I am swamped with work.

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter. It’s not my best work but I wanted to put something out for you guys!!

I hope that you liked it.

I’m gonna spend this weekend to try and get my life together so hopefully, that means that next week will be easier for me.

Especially since I still need to finish my permit course. (If you couldn’t tell, I’m kinda hating sophomore year of high school right now)

Like always, please leave a comment. i love reading them and they just motivate me so much! And they would help an extra ton these days.

And once again, if you have any fanfic requests, questions, or just suggestions for a specific fanfic i’m writing, just leave it in a comment down below or you can just message me here on tumblr.  

#Jason Todd #BAMF Jason Todd #batfamily #batman #batman fanfiction #batfam angst #jason todd needs a hug #jason todd is red hood #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fanfics #Avengers #Jason and the batfam are ehhhh #but they're getting there #not in this chapter #but someday #bruce Wayne is bad at feelings #bruce wayne #Tim Drake #cassandra cain #Damian Wayne #stephanie brown #dick grayson #jason todd deserves better #JASON TODD NEEDS LOVE #AND I WILL GIVE IT TO HIM #SOON #jason todd fanfic #lazarus pit

[prose-for-hire]

The Devil’s in the details

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: “Satanism for dummies? Interesting choice in books...anything you want to tell me?" And Fluff With spike

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader is a killer. They kill a person. For the Devil. Kidnap. Big blood mention. Mention of hiding a body.

A/N: Okay. So it’s not fluffy but I’ve injected some cuddling with Spike into it cos I got carried away with the plot. Hope this is okay anon - I got carried away. I can write you something fluffier (after Halloween) if you want to drop another request... Happy Halloween month !!

It was that time of year again. The yearly struggle where you had to offer a sacrifice to the Dark Lord again to ensure he kept his end of the bargain. Halloween night was circled and underlined in your calendar in thick red pen. Blood red. A coincidence, of course. You sighed, planning out this year’s would be tricky.

You had your boyfriend to think about and people knew you in Sunnydale now, it was hard to keep under the radar. You were practiced in what you needed to do, knowing there was no other way around it. As far as Spike was concerned, you were a sweetheart. A pure, innocent person who wouldn’t so much as look at someone the wrong way.

He was convinced you had never said a swear word and he was equally convinced you would turn to dust if you even attempted it. As far as he was aware, you knew nothing of demons or vampires or anything other than your pleasant life. And this is how you wanted it to stay.

However, Spike had long been trying to find a way to tell you about the supernatural. The Hellmouth. He didn’t want to scare you off, so he had been lying or more avoiding the truth. He wanted to tell you this year though, before Halloween.

You loved him but there were certain things that you would rather he didn’t know about you. For now at least. Especially the fact that you already knew he was a vampire. You smiled at him softly, leaning in and kissing his cheek – a greeting you always gave. He loved it, it was as if he was a husband returning home. He felt cherished by your affection. You never shied away, you wanted him to feel loved. Always.

“Can’t believe it’s been two years and I’ve never so much as had an invitation before, love”

“We did agree Spike – you have your space and I have mine”

“Yeah, but all your crap is in my space” he raised his voice an octave higher to cement his point, “Most men would have left over it, y’know” he added, pointing at you for emphasis.

“Then I’m very lucky to have such an understanding and kind boyfriend” You smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go, “God, your hands are always so cold”

“It’s my condition, love. Anaemia – always, uh, makes me cold” he muttered, not convincing anyone. But you just nodded along, smiling.

Spike had always meant to tell you but had never found the time. Besides, you had your own secrets (he wasn’t stupid he just didn’t suspect the truth) so he didn’t feel so bad about lying. Most of the time.

It was finally Halloween. You knew the drill. Spike would stay in and you would go where you were directed. You woke up to the same mysterious name written on a piece of paper you always did. It was the kind that would combust when you fulfilled your end of the bargain.

You walked up to the bar to order your drink, reading the nametag and smiling. This was getting easier every year. It almost made it difficult to feel the guilt anymore. You spent your evening talking to him, waiting until his break before you managed to subdue him and bring him back to your apartment. Usually, hitting them over the head and dragging them into the boot of your car seemed to work. Your neighbours were usually out and if anyone stopped you, you explained it was an elaborate costume. 

You were sat watching a gory horror film with the volume up high as you waiting for your new bartender friend to wake up from his little nap. He was propped up on the couch beside you. You had zip tied his hands and feet but you weren’t so cruel that you would cover his mouth. 

He finally started to come around as the humorous film started to get good. You shrugged, you were sure you could rent it for some light-hearted entertainment another day. They never quite got it right anyway. The blood was never the right colour.

He opened his eyes and started to yell. You hushed him and helped him regulate his breathing until he calmed down. When he eventually calmed down you explained the situation calmly, “So, listen, you’re gonna die tonight. But it’s for a really good reason so, at least there’s that” You nod along with yourself, smiling sweetly as his eyes widened in horror, “Okay I have to do a little ritual now that you’re awake just uh, stay still”

You got up, switching off the tv and lighting the red candles that had already been arranged in a circle on your coffee table. An ornate knife was in the middle of the circle. You closed your eyes, chanting some well-practiced verses. You motioned your arms slowly and you felt the warmth in the room dial up. The familiar crackle of flames started to sound around you.

You took the knife from the centre and awkwardly helped the man up, before slicing the blade across his throat. The liquid oozes from his wound and he started to sink to his knees, his blood splattering everywhere.

“Fuck, not on the rug!” You looked horrified, “What is wrong with you?! Over the chalice!” you hissed as if it was the poor man’s fault. You grabbed the chalice and held it under his neck, trying to 

The man slowly lost his life as you took the most important part for yourself. His blood. You sighed, rolling your eyes at his crumpled form as his blood soaked into your now ruined rug.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on your door. Shit. 

You slip your clothes off and grab the nearest items of fresh clothes so you could go to the door. In your haste, you almost slip on the pooling blood as you make your way to the door.

“What?!” you shouted, scowling at the visitor before you realised who it was, “Oh, Spike! Hi. It’s Halloween… you said you stay in on Halloween in case of the cute kids wanting candy”

“I said that-?” He questioned, before he caught a distinct smell of something he knew well. His stomach rumbled to confirm his suspicions, “What’s going on? I can smell-”

“Smell what?” You ask innocently. He squinted, before shrugging. It must be a different apartment in the block.

“Uh, nothing, can I come in?”

“I’m actually pretty busy… I’m, uh, I’m… baking” You said. Nobody, especially not yourself, was convinced by that excuse. But Spike just smiled slightly and nodded before asking once more, “Look, I need to come in. It’s… important. I gotta tell you somethin’ or my damned head will explode” he gestured at his head as he shook it, “Can I come in?” he pressed once more.

“Uh…” You look at the mess behind you that you’re concealing from his view by the door, “Just… give me time to clean the place up. I’ll be… 10 minutes” You muttered, slamming the door in his face and putting the lock on – just in case.

You clean the best you can, using so much bleach you were worried you would pass out. You sigh. Every year you tell yourself to put plastic sheeting down and every year you forget and end up ruining an item of furniture you were fond of. That was the real sacrifice you had to make, you sighed again as you rolled the poor man up in the rug and pulled him away. You found him a spot to rest in your tub. Hopefully Spike wouldn’t pick today to use the bathroom. The rug and the bleach all thrown in there too.

The blood now up the best it could be, you manage to find a roll of cookie dough to put in the oven. You sweep all of your occult stuff into a box and hid it under your bed and cram the rest into the cupboards. 

You had been twenty five minutes, but hoped Spike just presumed that you were house proud.

“I like your place, pet. Spotless” he said perusing the area. He smiled, it smelled of you and… cleaning products. Bleach. Oh, and cookies he smiled. He hoped that you would let him have some later on.

They say love is blind, and Spike was completely head over heels in love with you. So much so, he could only note the smell of cookie dough and you and didn’t think to question the smell of the blood that had been thinly masked by bleach.

He then eyed something on the coffee table that you had set down during the heavy-duty cleaning, “Satanism for dummies? Interesting choice in books...anything you want to tell me?" He joked, a slight smile as he started to flip through it. You grinned back, trying to conceal the fact that you were wiping beads of sweat from your brow when he looked up by scratching your scalp.

“It’s for Halloween – they were handing them out at the… mall”

“Uh, sit down pet” he said, sitting down in the same spot your previous guest had, “I need to… there’s somethin’ I need to say” he started to explain. He had chosen now to reveal who he really was. The fact that he was a vampire. He insisted he loved you and that it wouldn’t change anything between you.

You gasp, perhaps over exaggeratedly but you were actually surprised that he would choose now to tell you. You of course knew about demons and you were unsure if he was telling you this so he could take a bite from the body in your bathroom tub.

“I mean it – I’m… a vampire” He showed you his game face, taking your shock for disbelief. You cup his cheek gently, insisting this would never make a difference. You traced your thumb over his features and he closed his eyes at your touch.

“I will always love you. No matter what” You insisted, leaving a chaste kiss against his lips. He nodded slowly, smiling at your insistence. You caressed him softly, hoping he could feel the sincerity of your actions. You honestly weren’t scared of him. Or repulsed. You felt so deeply for him. You held him close to you as he flipped on the tv. You both settled into the sofa, stroking through his hair softly as he closed his eyes and leaned into you. You kissed his temple and whispered your continued affirmations. That you would never leave him. That you could never stop loving him.

You heard something and cast an eye to the kitchen, which you could see from your living space. The familiar figure you met every Halloween was there. The Devil.

You smiled, winking at the Devil as he took his offering as if he were Santa sneaking in on Christmas night. He smirked, drinking from the cup and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He clapped his hands and left which you caught from your peripheral vision.

You smiled warmly. It was all worth it. You were satisfied as you snuggled into Spike’s now open arms, you would keep the love of an immortal for another year at least.

#a very buffy halloween #spike btvs #Spike x reader #spike x you #not sure what it is #but im not convinced its fluff #btvs #btvs imagine #btvs x reader #btvs x you #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #blood tw #blood mention #ritual sacrifice #halloween fic #halloween #halloween request