#but if someone is coming across as rude and dismissive bc you’re not in the ‘right’ channel like how discouraging is that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

warpspeedgirl · 5 months

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I brought up that the way you shut down my opinion hurt you and said to not take anything you say personally and that I can tell you if I feel something you’re saying is irrelevant and pointless and that you still think what I said didn’t matter. When I told you I would never say something like your opinion is irrelevant and pointless to bring up to you you took that as me telling you not to tell me your opinion. What??? No I wouldn’t say that to you because it’s rude. I already know you’re going to tell me your opinions. That made me feel like you still don’t care about what I was saying and made me think you thought I was being unreasonable. Because how can it not be personal? You shut down my opinion and it hurts. It’s personal and hurtful and anyone would feel rubbed the wrong way by that. When I disagree with you I let you speak and respect your opinion. I’m not telling you to do that and I wouldn’t tell you to do that it’s like you don’t know me. It’s rude to tell someone that. That’s why I’ve never said that to you. There are times when I could’ve but I don’t because it would hurt your feelings and I'm more interested in seeing where you’re coming from and respecting that than hurting your feelings. It was hard enough for me to bring it up that day and you made me feel like I was being sensitive with those comments especially when you were like “I’m not gonna get nervous if we have to wait to talk” after I told you I do. It’s hard for me, I did it, but it was hard and I thought about it for a while also wondering what else I’ve done that hurt your feelings that you think I just wouldn’t understand. And it also threw me out because I thought after that one time years ago where I told you it hurt that you told me to pick myself up by the bootstraps when I was having anxiety with my speech class and the time when I didn’t understand what happened when you said Danny assaulted you that night and you said it hurt that you had to explain it that we’d tell eachother whenever something was bothering one of us. So I brought up that you hurt me so we could talk about it then and there in September bc you were going to act like nothing happened and never address it, and to hear you say “well yeah you be hurting my feelings too, that one time in college and twice the other day but it was nothing!” Like really? That response was so fucking ugly and offputting. We’re taking it back that far, why didn’t you bring it up then? Why are you bringing it now at this moment when I’m telling you you hurt my feelings today. If it’s nothing why are you bringing it up. There’s 40 fucked up things you’ve said/done to me that I let go over the years because it was nothing and I know you didn’t mean it and I loved you. That was really defensive and emotionally immature response. But I truly think it’s partly because you don’t identify with your emotions so it makes it hard for you to identify with others or realize how you come across idek. I just let that whole thing go even though you REALLY hurt me and talking to you about it was worse than what you did to start it.

I just accepted we disagree and made a mental note to not shut you down when you do that. I didn’t tell you it wasn’t personal. It was because it hurt you and I was sorry about that. You couldn’t say that for me. You explaining why you were talking to me that way made more sense but it doesn’t make it okay and hurt less. I saw a different side of you that day and more recently this year. I’ve been hurt and not spoken to you in that rude manner. That’s why you didn’t take anything I said that day “personally” because I didn’t dismiss anything you said in the tone you did me. Because it wasn’t you just telling me my opinion is pointless to bring up and irrelevant You said quite a few hurtful things that day and your tone hurt worse. And the next day bringing it up you were still saying “I still don’t see how it’s relevant” standing in the hurtful things you said the day before when I thought we already agreed to disagree and reinforcing that you’re not getting why the way you were speaking to me was hurtful, not what we were saying. THAT was the point. That’s why I kept saying the context hurt, not the content of the conversation. I said the way you were talking to me and dismissing me is what hurt, not what we were talking about. The way you were talking to me the next day was just as condescending and hurtful and I still felt majorly misunderstood. Talking about things with you just hurts. I’ve been hurt when interacting with you and I don’t talk to you that way. you did not ever say you didn’t have the mental capacity for that conversation. Which I was shocked when you told me you felt worried you hurt me because it did NOT seem like that. You never said you didn’t have the mental capacity to talk that day I would’ve remembered that and the evidence is in the messages. You said you didn’t want to talk on the phone. You said you’d prefer to talk in person and that you wanted to talk the next day.You didn’t have to be more adamant with me, you just needed to explain what you meant more clearly. I wasn’t pushing you. You said you didn’t want to talk on the phone and that in person would be better, the next day specifically. You turned me telling you you hurt my feelings into things about you and you don’t get phased cause I just don’t know I’m hurting your feelings. Just like how you turned me saying I was almost hit by a car and I was visibly shaken into some condescending conversation.

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realcube · 3 years

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trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references

kei tsukishima

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one

♡ jk jk

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning.

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--”

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?”

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact.

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened? why were they both acting like they were in drama class? and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y’know - chasing you around the whole school

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage.

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.”

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?”

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending?

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you*

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.”

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch 🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?”

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 3 years

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14 (bodyguard AU) and 46 (blind date) sounds fun,,, your choice of ship ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

14. Bodyguard AU || 46. Blind date

Random choice generator got me creativisleep!

roman's a semi-popular actor- he's never really been to an awards show, and he's not been in That much, but he had a small but strong role in a real popular film and plenty of leading ones in lesser known movies. he's got enough of a following to be satisfied with himself, even if it isn't That huge of one

because of this, roman didn't take the possible dangers of his fame seriously... until he got jumped by one fan at a play in his hometown. he came out fine (he's always fine ;p) but it made him reconsider his choice to not have some sort of protection

he ends up hiring remy to be his bodyguard, a choice he Slightly starts regretting when he realizes remy, despite having excellent marks out of bodyguard school, is about as professional as a golden retriever

they take roman's food out of his fridge Whenever, borrow Way too many of his shirts (and roman hasn't seen his BMC 'boyf riends' hoodie since they got their hands on it), and is never in typical bodyguard wear (they wore a suit for the interview and never again)

but they also bring roman coffee (when did they get his regular figured out...?), talk to him like he's just a Person and not a celeb, and have yet to try and kill him themself so. roman's alright with them staying

(plus, is it so wrong if roman enjoys how they look? he deserves for a bit of an eye-candy sorta bodyguard, damnit, they're with him all the time after all)

remy's been with roman as his bodyguard for a few months when roman decides he cant just keep Lookin at a pretty person, he deserves to have a pretty person to kiss and cuddle with too!! so he pokes around for a bit, finds a non-homophobic service (he's pan, so he could Technically use a plain ol' straight service, but he refuses on gay principle), and uses it

idk how datin apps work but this one that im makin up is a blind match up app, which takes ur information and uses it to randomly pair u up with random accounts. the app keeps account info privated until After the first date has been gone on, to really maintain the 'blind match' aspect. the matched up people play a mini guessing game through the app about places they can go for a date until location and time is determined

roman likes the idea of the app mostly to keep his own identity secret as long as possible- he doesnt want people pickin his account Just bc he's a celeb, y'know?

the first couple of blind dates dont go well tho... most are nice people who roman just isn't compatible with, one was a straight woman who spent the entire date being Very homophobic despite roman's rainbow heart + pan flag pins, and someone who was clearly Too Much Of A Fan (remy had to physically pull them off of roman and help him escape the park before they could latch back on)

oh, did roman not mention? remy's been coming on all his dates with him

because of course they are! they need to protect roman! whether that's by eating dinner in the booth over or sitting two rows back at the cinema or awkwardly half-stalkin roman and his date while they walk about

so they're always there, to bring roman there and take him home, and listen when he complains about the bad matches and lament the almost-winners, and convince him he is a catch that needs to try again because eventually Someone will realize he really is too good to pass up

(remy always says that line in a weird way)

so he keeps trying... until roman has possibly the worst date ever

because he gets stood up. it's fifteen minutes past the scheduled date time, he's gotten no text explainin where they are, but he's sittin at the restaurant alone and starting to become rather upset by the pitying look the server gives him when he says he's still waitin on someone else before he orders

remy slides into the seat across from him at the 20 minute mark. shoots roman an apologetic smile that an outsider would mistake as a 'sorry im late' one when roman knows it's a 'sorry they didnt show' one

roman appreciates the gesture to save him, but he almost just wants to go home at this point. he's tired and bein stood up feels like Shit, actually, and he's about ready to call off the whole dating thing really, dramatic as that may be (like it's not his middle name)

but remy says smth about this place having really good sandwiches, and it's clear they're tryin so hard to help roman out here, even a little, and roman can't just dismiss that effort, so he picks up his menu again and orders smth and tries to ignore the way his face heats up just the slightest at the relieved smile remy flashes next

lunch with remy is great, actually, better than it would've been with whoever couldnt be bothered to show or apologize or Anything. remy even knows the way to an ice cream shop on the way home, sayin it's for roman's 'broken heart' as they pay for it

except, well... roman's heart isn't feelin so broken anymore

it's actually feeling pretty put together. really functional. functioning really fast. especially when roman's looking at remy. or when remy's lookin at roman. or when they smile. or when they laugh. or when they speak. or when they-

roman doesn't fall asleep until 2am that night, heart still racing a bit, screaming into his pillow a bit as he acknowledges he is wholly and totally head-over-heels for his bodyguard

he tells remy the next day he's done with dating for a bit, saying he's still upset over being stood up. he doesn't mention that it's also bc remy's ruined all other people for him

things try to fall back in routine from there, but it's a bit harder when roman's trying to not be so in love with someone who just works for him. and remy's definitely started pickin up on it too- they had asked him just last if he was okay, that he didn't seem as upset by remy takin his clothes anymore, and that didn't seem like him, was he getting sick?

the opposite, actually, absolutely nothing makes me feel better then seeing you walk around in my shirt or jacket or whatever else, please never stop and also kiss me?

roman just said he was tired

eventually... roman decides this can't keep going on. remy's giving him more weird looks these days, and roman is pretty sure being around remy so much without Any kisses is starting to cause brain decay (it's not, it's really not, remy always bein on his mind is just a side effect of.... pretti........). so, he takes matters into his own hands

admittedly, maybe firing remy wasn't the best way to go, given remy immediately demands to know why, what they did wrong, even asking if roman's being blackmailed into this

"blink once for yes, twice for no" remy asks, lowering the sunglasses they always have on to look directly at roman's eyes

roman doesn't blink for a full minute. he might not be breathing for that minute either. has he ever seen remy's eyes this close? has he ever seen them at all? they're such a brilliant shade of brown. roman could drown in them. he might be already

roman's pretty sure he started this conversation standing up, but maybe not, because when he finally blinks and remembers things outside of remy's eyes exist he's sitting down and remy looks extremely concerned

"okay... what's wrong, hun?" they ask, and oh no, they look so sad, and worried, and that's not good, roman should fix that right now, regardless of whatever he was doing before (he's forgotten)

"im gay" he responds intelligently. this will fix everything

remy, however, just looks confused. "yes?"

"for you" roman adds, helpfully, sure that Now remy will understand they're just really very pretty and nothing's wrong and if they feel bad still they should look in a mirror because then they'll be good again

now it's remy's turn to sit in silence, expression frozen in one of shock. they still havent put their sunglasses back on, so roman doesnt mind, bc this gives him more time to stare at remy's eyes

"you're having a breakdown because you're gay for me???" remy finally asks, expression unfreezing to look incredulous and a little hurt

roman returns a similar look. "im not having a breakdown!"

remy scoffs. "yeah, sure, right, that's why you suddenly froze and completely stopped breathing and minorly collapsed after i... look off my shades to look at you..." they suddenly break out in a smirk. "oh my gods, you're a gay disaster"

roman doesn't try to deny it, especially with the knowledge he apparently did stop breathing to admire remy's eyes. they have a point

"how long?"

"since that date you hijacked after i got stood up" roman admits. he finds it extraordinarily rude when remy starts laughing

...until they're pulling out their phone, hurriedly opening up the exact same dating app roman had been using, showing a log of all the dates they had planned- there's only one marked as having actually been attended

same date time and place of the one where roman had assumed he had been stood up

"you broke my heart!" roman says as remy puts away their phone, over-dramatically, not actually giving a damn, just feeling gay and a bit giddy at the thought remy hadnt gone to any of the other dates, just theirs

no longer worried quite as much about roman for the moment, remy's smirk just grows, smoothly moving from being crouched in front of roman to being set firmly in his lap, lazily brushing hair out of his eyes and wow was remy always this warm? and stunning? and perfect?

"i dunno babe... sounds more like i stole it" remy teases, movin from playing with roman's hair to cuppin his cheek, leaning in close and not even bothering to pretend to be looking at anything other than roman's lips. "which, yeah, bad bodyguard etiquette... i hope you can forgive me..."

roman doesn't need his words to answer that tease

#oops this got long ':) i got distracted by the gays... happy pride month djhbvcfjds #fanfic #creativisleep #ts roman #ts remy #nb!remy #the cryptid speaks #meri #yeah roman just. has an all out gay panic disaster moment right there #poor man 😔#also my characters keep ending up kissin in each other's laps can y'all tell im a touchstarved gay yet /hj

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hawkbucks · 4 years

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is- is that royal aus post some ask prompt thing? bc if so I would just die for some of that muse playboy tony and instructor bucky au please say yes 🥺🥺🥺 also I love your aus so much!!!

It’s James’ job to notice the little things. Little openings, little hesitations, little mistakes, all those could mean the difference between carrying on in battle or being run through with a sword, and considering that his pupil is none other than Antonio Stark, heir to the Stark throne, Muse of the Valley, Ever-Ethereal, the Golden Heart, and 6 other superfluous, flowery titles, he would really rather like it if Antonio weren’t impaled on a blade should he have to partake in any conflict.

It’s James’ job to notice the little things. That’s why he can see the way Antonio oh-so-subtly sticks out his backside whenever he approaches. He can see the way Antonio looks up at him through his lashes, fluttering them coyly. He can see the way Antonio chews on his bottom lip, leaving it bright red and plump and shiny.

(Okay, those aren’t exactly little things--Antonio may as well be shouting his interest across the kingdom--but the point still stands that James notices them.)

James can see all of that. And he’s not interested.

(He may be a little interested. Antonio is a beautiful young man; there’s a reason he’s heard many men and many women lamenting the fleeting time they have spent with the young prince, but it would be a major breach of his ethics if he were to get involved with a student of his, no matter their beauty.)

“I do believe this is the fifth time I’ve had to correct your stance, Your Highness,” James says as he stands behind Antonio, ignoring the way the young Prince presses his back against his chest. “You’re holding your sword far too high.” With a gentle hand, he reaches over and grips Antonio’s forearm, lowering his arm. “Relax your grip. It’s too tight.”

“Many people have said they like my tight grip,” Antonio disclosed, tone on the lascivious side.

James scoffs. Heat rises up on his cheeks. He’s glad Antonio isn’t facing him. “I’m sure they have,” he responds, putting as much neutrality into his voice as possible. “Unfortunately for you, your sword doesn’t.” He looks down. “Spread your legs further apart.”

“How forward of you, Sir Barnes,” Antonio teases as he does so. “Not even an offer of dinner first?”

“Focus,” James grunts, the heat spreading to his ears. Lord, but he wishes that Antonio was more dutiful, more concerned with his training than unlacing James’ breeches. “I’ll be sparring with you personally today.”

He doesn’t need to see Antonio’s face to know that the man is smiling.

“Your shirt does not need to be unbuttoned,” James blusters.

Antonio winks at him, undoing the third button on his shirt. “It makes it easier for me to move, sir Barnes.” His hands fall to his sides, and James can see the way his chest is framed, tan skin a compliment to the madder-dyed fabric.

James’ throat clicks as he swallows. He bows his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Very well. If you feel like it would help.”

“It will.”

James unsheathes his own sword and tosses it into the air, catching it by the hilt. Cocky. “It won’t.”

Antonio ends up below him, splayed in the dirt, the tip of James’ sword settling underneath his chin. “Do you not pay attention to anything I teach you?” James asks, affronted and frustrated. “Every move I made could have been easily deflected. If you were more concentrated on your training and not on trying to b--”

James’ back hits the ground as his feet fly out from under him, eyes going wide.

Antonio crawls on top of him and straddles his stomach, the edge of his blade pressing against the skin of James’ throat. “Maybe if you were not running your mouth,” he countered before getting up and laughing. “You should see your face.”

James shakes his head to regain a modicum of composure. “That was a dirty move, Your Highness.”

“If you really want to see a dirty move, you should join me in my quarters tonight.”

James sighs heavily. He lets his head hit the dirt.

“What will it take for you to visit me at night? It is cold when I am by myself,” Antonio whines, draping himself over the back of James’ chair and resting his chin on James’ shoulder. “You are but three summers older.”

“I’m still your teacher,” James says, taking a bite of his apple. “Three summers or not, you’re still my student.”

“And if I were not your student?”

James pushes the side of Antonio’s face lightly. “I may consider it.”

Antonio giggles.

Oh, Lord.

James’ blissful sleep is so rudely interrupted by knocking at his chamber door. “Sir Barnes?” someone calls out from the other side. He recognizes the voice as belonging to Sir Rhodes, Head Imperial Knight, and one of Antonio’s oldest childhood friends. “His Highness Antonio Stark requests your presence at the training grounds.”

James scrubs the side of his face with a hand and groans quietly. He squints his eyes, realizing that sun is not even shining through his drapes just yet. “Is His Highness aware that not even the roosters are up?”

“He is aware. He is also very persistent.”

“I see,” James grumbles. He likes to think he knows Antonio quite well--besides the knowledge he’s gained from the various rumors swirling around the castle and the kingdom--and he just knows this has something to do with the conversation he and Antonio had a few days ago. “Tell him I’ll join him in a handful of minutes.”

“Very well, Sir Barnes.”

“James!” Antonio calls out, waving from his spot in the middle of a ring of lit candles. They barely provide any meaningful light, but they do well in helping James find out where Antonio is.

“Do you have any idea what time is it?” James asks in lieu of a greeting, mouth shaped into a frown.

Antonio leers at him. “Was I interrupting any dreams?”

“No.”

Antonio waves a dismissive hand, then cocks his hips. “Pity. As it stands, do you remember what you said to me? About how if I were not your student--”

“I’d consider courting you?” James finishes, raising an eyebrow.

Antonio nods enthusiastically. “Yes! I have chosen to take the route where I, the student, become the master, and therefore you wouldn’t have to be my tutor anymore. Then, we may--”

James holds up an index finger, silencing Antonio. “If you become the master. I’ll consider yourself no longer under my tutelage once you can make me hit the ground three times. None of those dirty moves from last time.”

“Continue to teach me, sir Barnes, and I will tell you when I feel I am ready to challenge you in an honorable duel.” Antonio actually bows, showing respect that James is honestly unaccustomed to seeing from him.

Antonio, surprisingly, hasn’t flirted with James even once throughout the past couple of weeks that he has decided to take his training seriously. Not once has he attempted to unbutton his shirt, and not once has he found any excuse to press himself against James.

He listens to everything James tells him with rapt attention, and the fluidity and grace with which he moves is inspiring. Antonio has always been called a genius, a prodigy, and James is now starting to understand why. Few can learn at a rate like he can; his mind absorbs information like a sponge.

Antonio manages to block a couple blows.

James smiles at him, and Antonio smiles back.

Antonio’s sword comes down against the strong of James’ sword, and, before James has any time to react, Antonio grabs James’ blade with one of his hands and shoves his sword up until both of their rain guards are meeting, wrenching downwards and ripping James’ sword away from his hands.

“You’re learning!” James exclaims.

Antonio drops both of their swords and runs in for an excited hug.

James gladly accepts it.

Antonio’s back hits the dirt for the nth time. “I was so close,” he groans, rolling around without care for his garments. “I keep getting close, but you always do something!”

James helps him up. “We’ll work on it.”

James’ back hits the dirt. “Wow,” he says. “You didn’t have to kick me or anything.”

Antonio snorts. “That was one time. I have to do this two more times, right?”

“In a row.”

Antonio crosses his arms.

Antonio continues to learn, continues to improve. He starts to anticipate what James’ moves are going to be before he even makes them.

James will admit that he’s been going easy on the lad, but now he thinks he can ramp it up a bit, make him sweat, make him work for it.

Antonio lands on his ass so many times that he calls for a break in the middle of the session, saying he needs to go sit on a cushion for a while.

James laughs heartily, then offers to grab Antonio a pillow, granted he doesn’t try to sit on it in the dirt.

“We’ll duel in a week!” Antonio promises as he runs into the castle to get himself firmly planted on that plush chaise lounge he has in his quarters.

James lands on his stomach, sword clattering a foot away.

“Two more times, right?” Antonio asks from above, sounding positively giddy. They’re both drenched in sweat, and Antonio has some dirt smeared on his cheekbone.

“Two more times,” James agrees, pushing himself back up.

This time, it’s James who lands on his ass. “Where did that come from?” He’s kind of in shock. The move that Antonio pulled off is sure as hell not one that he taught him.

“I can think on the fly,” Antonio says. “One more time?”

Lord, James thinks, Antonio might actually win this. Not that James would mind, honestly. These past few weeks have really... opened him up to the idea of possibly having Antonio as a lover, although he’s still hesitant to start anything while Antonio is under his tutelage. Again, ethics.

Time slows down to a crawl as James falls once again. He swears to the Lord that he can see his life flash before his eyes, the pollen carried by the wind.

“Oh,” he groans as his back, indeed, hits the ground.

Antonio straddles his stomach, much like he did the first time. “I am going to be honest,” he chuckles, “I also got some training from Sir Rhodes.”

“That’s cheating,” James mutters, looking up at Antonio.

“Maybe, but I think I have proven that I no longer need you to tutor me, correct? It does not matter where my knowledge comes from, as long as I am able to apply it.” Antonio places his hands on either sides of James’ head, back dipping. He lowers his head, bringing his mouth closer to James’ until their breaths are mingling, then--

He sits up. “I enjoy daffodils,” he says, “and my favorite dish is beef bourguignon. I believe that would be sufficient enough information for you to court me?”

“You are a wretched creature,” James breathes out, eyes hooded.

Antonio takes James’ hands and guides them to his hips. “I have the utmost faith in you, Sir Barnes. Perhaps you will have me courted by the end of this month.”

#Me: Wow I love the name Antonio for Tony sure wish that was canon (in more universes).#Me: Wait this is an AU.#Me: I MAKE THE CANON.#Tony has buttons on his shirt that's how you know he's royalty.#winteriron #filled #There be some harlots in his household.#ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS!#I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY AU'S KLASJLDS #anon

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period-dramallama · 4 years

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Spanish Princess episode 6: my tired chronological thoughts

Say it with me now: “previously, on the Spanish Princess!”

-Is it just me or is tsp!koa sympathetic in this episode?

-charlotte was actually acting really well in the first scenes. I really felt for her. Probably because she wasn’t spouting any stupid dialogue.

-SO WE’RE JUST GOING TO FORGET ABOUT BABY STEALING HUH

-i wish i could forget

-”Cardinal Wolsey has been speaking with your daughter” if More and Maggie are now Mary’s adopted co-parents, can Wolsey please be the cool uncle?

-Please can we have wolsey speaking to mary in the fawning tone he uses with Henry and Mary’s just like...unimpressed.

-I will say this for tsp!koa, she does give good Hugs

-Yet again, Thomas More is babysitting the girls. While it’s good that Mary has adopted parents, it’s only sadder given her biological dad will execute both of them.

-it is actually historically accurate to have maggie p looking after Mary, she was Mary’s governess IRL, IIRC.

-also you wouldn’t leave the princess with just one person. She’d surely be supervised by at least 2 people, in case like one person had a heart attack or smth.

-PLEASE go back to calling her Lady Pole. AND GIVE THOMAS MORE TO DO

-”it will all come to nothing” sounds like something that WON’T come to nothing

-and now Henry and Wolsey have had a lover’s quarrel, they are such boyfriends they even quarrel like boyfriends.

-’summit’ sounds too modern

-Are Angus beefburgers named thus because of hard Meg roasted him this episode?

-”I wasn’t expecting to see you” yeah bc wasn’t the Field just F and H?

-The cinematography was great last episode, and now we have weird close ups on the riot ringleader’s face. Why. I can practically see his saliva. Yum.

-Someone else got to the “Wolsey whispers like David Attenborough” joke first.

-What is that weird af flooring? It looks like they stole it from the set of Rivendell in LOTR.

-No dancing? No revels? No tongue in cheek allusions to Glastonbury or Woodstock? This Field feels more like parent’s evening at school.

-I’m now certain Flodden swallowed the budget whole and it was not worth it.

-”we are being threatened” “they drew a gallows in pig’s blood” This is so frustrating. You didn’t need Lina to spell it out for the audience. It would have been so much more suspenseful if you just saw the drawing, and then Lina’s terrified face, and we cut to the next scene. But you think the audience is so dumb we won’t realise a gallows drawn in blood is a threat? GTFO. And stop making Lina state the obvious!

-How good is Rosa’s hubby at his navigator job if they’re wearing brocade at a royal summit?

-To be fair to the show, “she’s only six years old,” is said by Rosa, not Catherine, and Rosa has been living outside England, so easy mistake.

-I like the compass gift, that was cute.

-Maggie watching the shadow play reminds me of the shadow puppets her mother and aunt played with in twq :’)

-THE WINE FOUNTAIN YES I CAN SEE THE WINE FOUNTAIN i was worried we wouldn’t see it

-I misheard Rosa and thought she called Buckingham Aardvark instead of Edward. I will now call him Aardvark. Yes I am very mature.

-I get that Wolsey is meant to be the Bad Guy, but he was literally just standing there with his wine, doing nothing. Stop shouting at him, Aardvark, YOU walked into HIM.

-”raise the price of ale” do you have any idea how much ale people were drinking in this period, Henry? That’s like the government putting up the price of water. You raise the price of ale and you’ll make the unrest worse.

-People have been discussing Bessie’s behaviour, I think the issue is classism rather than xenophobia, cause she's worried for Lina and Oviedo and their kids but they’re servants of the crown, like she is, so they’re not ‘riff raff’, and she’s also dismissive of the rioters and wants “order restored” she said “heads on spikes” but I assume the heads are the rioters’ heads. Idk, either way the dialogue is clunky and stupid and this whole plotline is badly handled anyway and i do not care enough to rewatch that scene.

-given how rude Francois was to Mary, IN PUBLIC, I kinda love the idea of her taking the mickey out of him. and look at that, Reggie Pole’s silence finally has a plot purpose! Given that Reggie was Mary Tudor’s archbishop and right hand man, it’s kind of touching that they’re connected in this way.

-Twenty minutes left of episode and the Field is over. Le disappointment.

-”he’s gone!” Oviedo, I get that you’re probably in shock but... are you honestly trying to do CPR on a man who’s been skewered with a sword. I love you, Oviedo, but you were holding the show’s single braincell and now you’ve dropped it. I’ll give you a pass if you genuinely panicked.

-wtf henry pole your mother will hear about this

-The climax was very emotional...but ruined by the fact it’s total nonsense. Everyone in this show continues to be a total idiot. FINALLY we can be finished with the “not loving Mary” BS that should have lasted no more than 1 ep, if you had to do it at all.

-To be fair to the show, Mary comes across to me at least as traumatised, not as a gleeful baby tyrant. She’s not happy about men getting executed

-”My father cuts their heads off” it would have been such black comedy if koa was like “No darling, he won’t cut their heads off. Beheading’s for rich people”.

-please tell me you’re not hanging them by trapdoor method. The trapdoor method was invented in the nineteenth century.

-”grant them mercy” dude you said “they can die without me watching” so they’re probably all dead by now.

-”first time he’s agreed” I will give the show a tiny tiny benefit of doubt and say maybe they mean this particular pope?? Actually scrap that they probably mean all popes.

-This should have been Thomas More’s time to shine, IRL he was involved in the govt response to Evil May Day, (I think he even addressed the mob to get them to surrender to the king) which I assume this riot is based off of. But because he was also at the Field, and the showrunners forced these two events to happen simultaneously, the showrunners decided to keep him at the Field...doing nothing. 0/10.

-some lovely choral singing this episode.

#the spanish princess #i liked this ep more than ep 4 #but less than ep 5

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

Teenage Dream - N. Horan Imagine

bc why work on my werewolf!shawn fic when I can procrastinate and write a 3.5k word Niall imagine instead? btw this was inspired by the video of Niall and Lewis singing the song “teenage dream”. If you haven’t seen it I would highly recommend watching below eargasms are a guarantee okey ready here we go:

youtube

Touring with Niall was…to put it in one word…tricky. Feeling all of the world going beneath your feet could make someone feel as though they were flying. From potholes to speed bumps to road bumps, the only thing about flying forty miles an hour across the continents that you loathed was the bruises that littered your body in the oddest of places; the side of your left foot that was stubbed against the leg of the couch, a red-angry right hip after being jostled into the counter, a small nick on your cheek that the damn paparazzi and their nice-ass cameras tried utilizing as—the one and only piece—of evidence that Niall was abusing you. If only they knew that he was the one who’d helped you ice it after your run-in with the door frame upon entering back into the bus from one of Niall’s longest shows. The crowd was so wild and hyped up that Niall fed on their adrenaline and gifted them with two encores, with Lewis and Fletcher joining him on stage. Still, he was there for you when he could be. Even at midnight, icing your cheek and holding back snickers at your small whines and pleas to kiss the wound better.

You could add the “helping when he could part” to the small list of loathing too, but that was selfish to even think about. You have admitted to yourself multiple times on the bus, day and night, alone on the beds or couches or even to yourself as you drowned out to a movie with the comforting arm draped around your waist and one of his hands tied to yours, that Niall was more distant on this tour than his last.

He did grow confidence, you knew. But that was far from a bad thing, and surely not the root of his dismissive behavior. His first album came out, he was a little rocky being by himself in his process for the first time. He did not need approval from three or four other people or even nineteen thousand of them. Now that his second solo album was out, he was like a mom with your fourth child. He knew more about the in and outs of interviews. How to pose just right, alone in front of a camera. Before, he was all too vulnerable. But now, he felt as though he could lasso the world around his finger by playing a few strums of his guitar.

You were proud of him, so very much that you made sure to remind him every night. Sometimes it was a long spiel which left both of you red and other times the only words that came out were slurred gibberish and moan-language that became muffled into one another’s sweaty shoulders.

But these past few weeks have felt different. You’ve missed that small thing—whatever it was—a spark, a flicker? Okay, now that was totally unintentional but you got your point across—something was missing. And you were missing it badly, like a child with your favorite blanket or snack your parents’ always stuffed away in your lunchbox that made getting through the first day of kindergarten a little easier. Where was that comfort? Where has it gone?

Well, little did you know you weren’t the only one feeling this way. In fact, Niall felt it too, and had he known you had been feeling it just as much, he would have argued he felt it ten-fold. But his lips stayed together, and his eyes continued observing your face. The curvatures of your nose he always adored kissing the button off, the way your eyelashes seemed to fall perfectly, high on your cheeks he seemed to always keep dry and if not that than wet with tears of joy. “Only joy, always joy,” he remembers you telling him once after you began absolutely sobbing upon his first single, alone, being shared over the radio.

Your eyelids slowly fluttered and cracked open, and what lies beneath them--God, he could go on for hours about those beauties. The small flecks and twinges that orbit your pupils, he swears your mind is a whole solar system he only knows a few planets of and man, how lucky he is to know it will take light years to explore them, and even more lucky to know that it will probably be longer than that. A small part of him hopes it’s actually an infinity.

“You know stranger, it’s rude to stare without me knowing your name…” you turns your body to face the completely opposite direction before sitting yourself up. Your bare upper half was splayed for Niall’s viewing before an even more captivating one eclipsed it: the familiar cloth of his tee-shirt he had planned on wearing to bed the night prior. But if he was being honest with himself, he did not mind this view much either.

“Well then allow me to introduce m’self,” His glorious morning voice crackled through the air like an old speaker, and it made your body nearly quiver in its wake. His forearm, not super-model muscular was still nimble when it needed to be snaked around the girl’s clothed torso and tugged your back right where he needed your to be and where you wanted to be. A squeal was elicited from the playful snare of his arm as you were plunged back to his bare chest. “I happen to be the love of your life.” He jokes with the bare of his teeth. The same ones that probably left a multitude of marks along your body. Places that nobody but the both of you could see but still…how could you be upset with this man gazing down at you as though you were the speculated eighth wonder of his world? He was the “love of your life”, after all.

“Well, then Karma must have finally noticed me.” You quip in reply. Niall quirks one of his brows at this statement and only tugs you closer as he begins speaking in that deep, sexy, melodic tone his voice has that just seems to captivate you. “No, actually I think—I think it might’ve been me that noticed you.” He leaned his head down farther down towards yours until your noses bumped against one another’s. He kissed the tip of your pert one which cued it to crinkle up, and him to only laugh aloud.

And you could feel it again. He could too. The spark, the flicker. Your soft hand lifted from the comforter beneath the two and traveled upward to graze the side of his stubbled jaw. He noticed you admired him too, in the moments he was awake because God knows if he was not sleeping beside your today and the two and a half years prior, you would’ve rolled over onto the cold sheets and dreamt until the afternoon about a hot cup of coffee instead of actually being woken by the aroma of the blend filling your home. Whether your home was on the road, or in a hotel overseas, far from your hometown. You knew one thing about your home upon falling in love with the man before you; he wasjust that for you. He was your home. You loved him.

Love. The word felt so foreign though it seemed like just last night they were whispering it into one another’s ears. It seemed like more often they were calling each other mindless pet names like “petal” or “Ni” or “princess” or “babe.” God, babe? You two were really back to the “babe” level now? You couldn’t stand even a second more of that thought. And now at this point, it seemed like the words were just crawling out of your throat, begging to be said.

“I—“ and right before they could, of course, Karma seemed to come to pay you a visit. But this time it bit you in the ass when the door to the room slid open and into the wall beside it, revealing Lewis there, fully dressed. “Hey, mate. Sorry to interrupt, but we’re stopped here for about an hour and there’s a lil’ diner joint just outside if either of you is up for breakfast.” He glanced between you and Niall, still half-naked and still between the sheets and still with the same thought on your mind of how you’re supposed to remind him how much you freaking love him with Lewis standing in front of you probably thinking of what kind of eggs he’s gonna order.

“Sure mate, just give us a minute to get ready.” Lewis nods and presses a button beside the doorframe again, and letting the sliding door eliminate him from your view. Niall turned to you, about to speak up, but you didn’t let him.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Without further hesitation, you lifted yourself off of his chest and off of the bed, before gathering a change of clothes and towel from the small closet in the back room. You departed from him and ventured into the small bathroom located right outside. Upon the door clicking shut, you leaned your head against the cool wood of it. Despite the tears of frustration yearning to escape your eyes, you let a downtrodden sigh fall past your lips instead. Your sex life was amazing, as always. You still felt an intimacy with him personally. Nothing had changed. So why are you feeling as though everything has?

You shook your head as though you were hoping your doubts would fall out of your ears. It did not work, obviously, so your next plan of attack was to fill good things inside of it. Good moments with Niall when both of you were younger and still hopelessly in that puppy dog-honeymoon phase of love where all the both of you wanted to know was one another. Yeah, that just only made you sadder. You resorted to your phone and its shuffle method, instead of while you were twisting the shower knob to just the right temperature. Your favorite musicians and their songs quietly flowed through your ears, their poetic words reverberating throughout your cranium. But when the opening notes of flicker echoed against the tile of the shower, your hand flew to your phone in an instant and pressed “skip.” You really hoped Niall was too caught up in his own thoughts to hear a different tune interrupt his own. You knew it would hurt him if he did hear it. But you also knew that you would come out of the shower with water still running down your face, had you let the song resume.

You let yourself stand beneath the steaming water and let it cascade down your body as a lighter tone filled your ears. It was an old song, and man did it bring back some old memories.

Niall, on his first solo tour with you in the passenger seat as the two of you, drove to the airport. It was eight am and the sun peeking through the windshield and screaming for your attention with its hot blindness would have made you groan. But with the heart-shaped sunglasses taking over almost a quarter of your face and Niall beside you with one of his hands on the wheel, the other taking purchase on your thigh and your stomach ready to combust with all of the joy it contained for the man sat next to you, it was impossible to feel any sadness at times like that. The radio host had just finished playing his song, which Niall did not hesitate to give you a live version of between the windows of his convertible, and was now clueing the next one coming up. “An oldie but a goodie,” hinted the upbeat voice emitting from the car’s speakers, before the familiar notes flooded your senses once again. And for the next three minutes, you serenaded Niall with the biggest smile on your face, and a similar one overcame his features as you did so.

Now every time that song comes on, no matter where or with who, it was just a habit to sing it aloud. Hell, you remember singing it just the other day as Lewis strummed the chords on his guitar. Niall was sat next to you just admiring your profile the whole time. He mumbled something afterward that you were not really paying attention to, but it must have been a good thing since his lips locked with yours not too soon after.

“I know you get me, so I let my walls come down…down….” You begin singing, while that spark begins building in you again. You covered the song with a slowed-down, more heart-felt version than the original. And between the tiles with that same feeling imbibing your chest and the images of you and Niall in the car that morning playing like a slideshow in your mind, it felt right. “You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream the way you turn me on…….don’t ever look back, don’t ever look-“ A distinct chime left your phone and intercepted the current song. It was a snippet of the Stranger Things theme, a ninety-nine cent identifier for when Niall texted you and made your heart pick up its pace each time your ears picked it up from the other room. But this one gave you a different feeling. Like your heart was being clutched into a tight fist that would not let up and left you, in return, gasping for fresh air.

You stopped the shower after a few more minutes and flipped the phone back up to face yourself. You read the text slowly and carefully as if trying to decode the clearly innocuous message on the screen.

🍀❤️

left with Lewis to breakfast place. no need to rush getting ready, we got plenty of time

But now you could not help but dress as rapidly as possible. Because, as coy as guys are when talking about their love life. You had an itching feeling Niall and Lewis had plenty of time with you “taking your time” to talk about you.

Niall set his phone on the table face-up with a sigh. Lewis did not let that go past his ears and perked up a little at his friend’s somber expression. “What’s up, mate?” Niall chewed his lip, debating on using his good friend as a temporary therapist while on the road. Lewis did not deserve to have all of Niall’s woes put atop of his shoulders. “Come on, tell me what’s going on, Nialler.”

“Something just isn’t right…” He admits, stirring his fork about on the plate, but never taking a pick at any of the options that were dispersed on it.

“Well, what is it? I’m sure if the eggs or bacon is bad we can ask for a new batch—“

“No, no not with the food. It’s Y/N…We’ve just been distant, lately.”

“Is that so. I could’ve sworn last night you two were going at it like rabbits.” Lewis remarks, taking a sip of his clear plastic glass of orange juice.

“No, not in that way,” Niall grumbled. “Just…I’ve felt like we have not given each other enough personal affection. Like, I can’t remember the last time we told each other ‘I love you.’”

“I can.” Lewis snickers, which earned him a considerate slap to his shoulder.

“I mean not in bed, ya piece of shit.” Lewis hums during another hearty sip of his OJ. “That’s easy.” He mumbles “It was uh…the other night, yeah? We were all shit-faced and she was singing that Katy Perry song. How’s it go…you make me something, something—“

“Teenage Dream. Yeah, that’s right…I did tell her I loved her after that. And…”

“Yeah, you two spit-swapped in front of me, probably led to some other stuff I really don’t want to think about…” Lewis says as he shovels a forkful of food into his mouth and starts munching.

“I have an idea. How about—“ the bell above the door jingled as another patron: just his luck. It was you, about to walk in on his genius idea.

“How about, what?” Lewis shrugged through his mouthful of hash browns and toast as you only neared closer, unsure of what conversation you had stumbled into.

“How about…” Niall sat up and grabbed your hands, sitting you down on his side of the booth, “I go order for you.”

“Okay…” you agree through a nervous laugh, a little unsure. It was not what would be on your plate, Niall knew you well enough by this point to know your breakfast preferences. It was how…quick he was to attend to you and leave Lewis completely neglected in what looked like an important conversation.

“Is he okay?” You ask while furrowing your brows, as he was up ordering at the counter.

“Don’t ask me. You’re the one with him.” Lewis says, having Y/N’s eyes divert to her hands and a sigh leaves her lips. “Hey.” Lewis reaches his hand over to cover yours as a sense of comfort. “I’m only kidding ya, love. He’s doing fine. Just jitters from bein’ on the road every day are all.” You nod at him, his words easing you slightly.

Once breakfast ended, the rest of the day usually consisted of Niall and his two opening acts running around from backstage, to soundcheck, to their designated meet and greet areas, and so on. What you did in the meantime was all up to you. At first, you would sit through their soundcheck and just follow them around as if you were a lost puppy. It then occurred to you one day that you were traveling across the freaking world and all of the sightseeing you could be doing made you feel like you were taking these experiences for granted. But with the loss of sleep lately, all you really needed today was a nap. And that was exactly what you did in preparation for tonight’s concert.

“Okay, what was your idea?” Lewis asked Niall after finally ending their soundcheck. Niall could not decipher if the day was passing by slow or fast, but he was just nervous about how Y/N would react to his idea. That is if he had time to talk to Lewis about it.

“The song, Teenage Dream. You know the chords right?” He asks as both men make their way to the dressing rooms prior to their meet and greet.

“I mean, yeah kind of. Not totally—“

“Teach me the song. And then we’ll sing it tonight. Have her in the front row...” Niall’s voice drifts off, awaiting Lewis’s approval.

“Mate, that’s a brilliant idea. But we already had soundcheck, a meet and greet. Will we have time?”

“We’ll make some. Somehow.” He looked at Lewis with a look of confidence, while Lewis still seemed unsure. “We will.”

And they did. Admittedly, the bathroom was a strange place to meet up and play guitars, harmonizing to a Katy Perry song. But the acoustics were amazing and in half an hour, Niall was stood in front of thousands, Lewis beside him, now ready to serenade the love of his life.

“We practiced this in the bathroom and had no soundcheck. So, God knows what happens in these next three minutes.” A light chuckle breaks through his lips as he speaks, and the audience does not hesitate to laugh along with him. Both Niall and Lewis count down together before the soft strumming of their guitars fills the entire stadium. You were nestled in the front row of the entire show and let your eyebrows furrow at the notes the two began to play. You knew Niall’s setlist for this tour front-to-back by now, but for some reason, you could not recall this opening being played.

Your thoughts were tuned down the moment his voice echoed through the stadium.

“You think I’m pretty without any makeup on….”

And just like that, your mind was flooded with all of the good memories. Every happy moment you seemed to have with this beautiful man singing in front of you. He was the love of your life, indeed. When he and Lewis begin harmonizing, that was when the emotional effects start to kick in. Your eyes developed a shield of gloss without your consent and a familiar feeling embraced you like an old friend who could not stop reminding you how much they have missed you. That spark, that feeling that you have been missing just as much. The one that you will never let go of again, it was back.

During the bridge of the song, you connected eyes with Niall and very dramatically mouthed “I love you” in order for him to make out each syllable. He let a smile overcome his face and a rush of adrenaline took hold of his body just as quick. While strumming the final notes, his eyes never left yours.

“I know you get me so I let my walls come down…down.”

addicted to Niall? i can’t blame you, but i can help! click HERE for more!

#niallhoran #niall james horan #njh #one direction #harry styles #zaynmalik #louis tomlinson #liampayne #fanfic #fanfiction #fangirl #imagine #oneshot #niall horan imagine #song inspired #music #writing #lewis capaldi

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firelord-frowny · 3 years

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i answer questions on quora for funsies and there was a question (that got deleted before i could post my answer lmao) about “why do most atheists have such a childish view of what god is?”

and then of course there were a bunch of snippy answers from people like “hur dur, bc god is dumb and fake and you are dumb also”

and so i typed up a loooong as response while loopy on zzzquil and here it is, here’s my response:

I was hoping I’d get here and see some answers that didn’t drip with the cringy condescension that atheists unfortunately have a reputation for… I was disappointed.

I can promise you that “most atheists” don’t necessarily have a childish understanding of the concept of a God or religions in general. I think it just so happens that the more, uh… ~outspoken~ atheists tend to either have a simplistic understanding, or they simply don’t feel inclined to take the time to demonstrate that they do have a deeper understanding, because it’s just not important to them (which is fair!) Or they just like being rude and making flippant comments that they know are going to rustle the feathers of people who believe in a higher power.

I definitely used to be one of those atheists who loved to wax poetic - and usually with vaguely inflammatory and argumentative language - about how I “don’t care what people think a god is” and how I “don’t believe in things that aren’t really there” and “ahem, believing in sky fairies is what’s REALLY childish!”

Then it dawned on me that I’ve only been exposed to an infinitesimally tiny fraction of all the world’s religions, and all the different ways that people express their faith in their deities. I would hope that anyone who was actually committed to rationality would at least concede that it’s a bit irresponsible and disingenuous to claim absolute knowledge about - and pass judgment on - a wealth of subjects they have never even been exposed to.

Interestingly, I think the missing ingredient in these cases is compassion. The kinds of atheists you describe don’t see much value in even caring about the tremendous role that religion can play in many people’s lives. I think they tend to home in on the bad stuff, and unceremoniously dismiss everything else.

Though I’m most simply described as an atheist, the way that I personally understand the concept of “god” is that it can be an expression of people’s highest aspirations, or maybe a personification of a culture’s highest values. Maybe some people do truly believe that the thing they have faith in is an actual being that exists in some intangible realm, and who has will, and who is capable of manipulating and interacting with the “real world.” But through conversations with many of my believing friends, I’ve come to understand that to some people, “god” is more of an ideal than an actual being. Not literal, but a metaphor.

Anyway, to get back to your actual question - I’m of the opinion that most atheists understand and embrace the fact that they may never comprehend what “god” means to the people who believe in one. But they acknowledge that it’s nowhere near as simple as just “believing in things that aren’t really there,” and certainly do not automatically find it “humorous, sad, and irrelevant.” I think most atheists understand that the cultural, social, and personal concepts of “god” and the role “god” plays in the lives of believers is way too complicated to be boiled down in just a few snappy remarks. The atheists who have a more compassionate and open-minded understanding of what “god” might mean to theists aren’t going around being mean on the internet. They’re minding their own business.

I hope you feel enormously free to happily ignore the flippant, obnoxious quips from unkind atheists who are more concerned with feeling superior than with being at all intrigued by one of the many ways humankind has found to express its values and feel connections to one another.

Because I happen to know how these particular atheists think and behave, considering that I used to be one, I am sure that any who come across my answer here may feel inclined to try to get under my skin and perhaps condescend to me about logic and reason and blah blah blah, and I’d just like to say to those individuals: I welcome you to say whatever it is you need to say in order to feel secure and grounded in your point of view. I promise there’s nothing you can tell me that I haven’t told anyone else. I’m not upset with you, and I won’t be hurt or offended by anything you decide to say. Sure, I’d like it if you agreed with me, but that’s not how the world works, and I’m okay with that, and I’m sure that most of y’all are decent folks with whom I’d agree on a lot of other things!

I’m also sure that some folks are going to think everything I’ve said is ridiculous and that I’ve typed so much and said absolutely nothing. That’s fine. And you’re probably right! If you look up “largiloquent” in the dictionary, there’s a picture of me.

I’ll also address this: It’s not lost on me that the phrasing of the question is a little instigative. “Why do most atheists have such a childish view…” I can see plainly that that’s meant to attract exactly the kind of atheist who’s prone to launching into unpleasant confrontations. It’s meant to attack the kind of atheist that the question-asker has no doubt felt victimized by. Though I find it a little disappointing, I do understand. Like I said - I used to be a jerk about my own atheism, and I’m very well acquainted with the loud minority of atheists who seek to make theists feel dumb, and it makes sense to me that someone would feel like taking a small form of revenge in this manner. So, to the question-asker, I’ll say: When you set someone up to get angry, you sabotage your own chances of getting through to someone who disagrees with you. Maybe they probably weren’t going to hear you out before, but they definitely aren’t going to hear you out now.

And to the atheists who jump at the chance to get quippy at this kind of obvious bait: If you really want to disarm someone who’s trying to upset you… be nice. I’m not kidding. When somebody clearly wants you to resort to petty insults, and then you give them those insults, you lose. Immediately. You just look mean. :/ But if someone is baiting you into an argument, and you respond with kindness and understanding, then they look like the jerk. Not you. And next time, maybe they’ll choose kindness, too, when they approach you.

I was going to conclude this by proudly stating that I’ve evolved past the point of feeling the need to try to make others feel less-than just because they have a point of view I think is, uh, ridiculous, but as I reread my words, I can see that that's not exactly true, as I’ve definitely included a few acerbic jabs here and there. I’m sorry about that. I don’t mean to sound like I’m looking down on anyone or what they do or don’t believe about belief. I suppose I just take it a bit personally when self-described atheists behave in ways I think are unnecessarily and intentionally rude, and then claim in some way that that’s Just How Atheists Are. It isn’t. I hope some of you will mull over the idea that meanness rarely ever contributes anything useful to the world. Lots of people will be willing to consider your point of view if you can present it in a manner that allows them to feel comfortable talking to you. Even if neither of you winds up changing your minds, you can still come away from the conversation with the gift of a wider perspective.

So what I’ll actually conclude with is this: I don’t care what people do or don’t believe. I care how they behave. And you can always learn way more about a person from their behavior than from what gods they say they do or don't have faith in, or how well they understand the concept of those gods.

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tarithenurse · 5 years

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Agent of Hope - 19

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Hmmm...weapons, fluff, dealing with trauma, mention of rape, masturbation, violent reaction, difficult choices, more fluff, and kissing. A/N: Thanks to all of you who like and especially reblog <3 On a second note: been looking for houses (need to move out of my parents’ place with my husband bc omfc). Also that GIF just is epic.

19 - An offer you can’t refuse

… Romanoff …

The tinny jingle from the Goldfish commercials doesn’t cause hesitation to the hands moving rapidly to find and connect the right parts needed in the task of assembling three different guns. Only when the last weapon is locked (and loaded) does Natasha spin the cell phone on the table with a frown. Unknown caller, but the small dots in the corner indicate that Jarvis is tracking down the number already and will have an answer in three…two…one…ugh! Langley.

“Afternoon.” The tone is flat enough to show the lack of enthusiasm without being downright rude. “What more does Langley want post-hearings?”

She can almost hear the crooked smile. “Hrph…I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, miss Romanova.” The twist to the last name sends shivers down the former Russian’s spine but the familiar voice continues. “I’m agent Ross…we met during the hearings…?”

The silence is allowed to reign in an attempt to get the man to talk, maybe say too much. Meanwhile, Natasha brings the Glock 26 behind the back and starts to dismantle it, counting the seconds it takes before every piece of metal is spread out on the couch cushion behind her, careful not to lose the pins or the little spring for the trigger.

“Miss uhm…miss Romanova? You there?”

Nervous. Not enough. “…yeah.”

“Good! Good. Yes…” Some paper rustles through the line. “Right…I know the hearings’ve been long and prob’ly bothersome,” agent Ross hesitates to allow for some comment but gets none, “s’I can completely understand and respect if y’aren’t interested, however…I believe that you may ‘ave information that could be of benefit to u- to the Agency, I mean, in terms of filling some gaps. Erm I think…what I’m trying to say’s would it be possible for you to – off record – have a look at our older intel?”

Wait…waaiit…one more second. An intake of breath is Natasha’s cue. “You want me to shed light on old cases that’ve gone sideways?”

“Well –“

“You think either SHIELD, Hydra, or maybe my former handlers could’ve botched it for you guys?” By now the short agent’s sputtering in embarrassment, maybe hoping for the weak protests to soothe any slights the insinuation could have caused. “Send me a top ten and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Really?!”

Yeah, why would I? Simply put, Natasha hates being out of the loop, and the spy in her is aching for the chance of (legally) getting hold of CIA intel. More than that, though, she’s learned the hard way how precious the currency known as “favours” are. Owe someone something? They’ll have a hook in you forever. Someone owes you? It can be the difference between life and death. An IOU from a CIA agent…that could be handy.

“No promises I can actually tell you more than y’know already.”

Movement behind her makes the Avenger turn her head, a smile already curving her lips at the presence of [Y/N] who eyes the weapons (and parts) cautiously.

“Oh, no! That’s okay, no worries!” An idiot might refuse the tentative offer and Ross is far from that. “I’ll compile the files and get them to…you…uhm…”

“I’ll text you an address.” A slightly oil-greased finger hovers over the phone already. “Bye, agent Everett Ross.”

… Rumlow …

The fly circles the room a few times before finally settling on the person in the corner, climbing across brown-stained jeans in short sprints before reaching the lax hand and taking off again. Next time the insect lands it’s by the dried spatter on the wall where the bullet had made a small crater when it exited the skull of…who was that? A glance at the pens and the old-fashioned glasses makes Brock guess at some dusty field of expertise like history or literature. Whatever it had been, the man had decided it was better to risk it all and go looking for Hydra on nothing but a rumour.

“Don’t mind zat,” Strucker dismisses the sight easily, “ze interesting zing is zis.” Careful not to touch, he points at the darkened veins and (with the help of a metal rod) the unnaturally blue eyes. “Ze experiment was quite a success, my friend. We are able to channel ze power of ze weapon into humans.”

“They all end up like this so far?” The eyelid hasn’t lowered again, so the endless glow of space is staring blindly at Brock no matter where he moves. “A bullet in the brain? Why did he get that?”

Chuckling softly, Strucker wipes the little stick in a handkerchief which he folds before depositing both in a pocket. “Zis man gained immense strengz but lacked control.” Oh. “Perhaps zere is a stronger connection between the state of mind and ze results zan we anticipated. We are now looking for actual volunteers.”

…

Fuck. However Loki did it remains a mystery still, but Brock won’t give up the hope that it will be possible to figure out how to control another person with the staff. Damnit, he’d seen the bit of salvaged footage and read the debriefs portraying the events when the Asgardian came to Earth and brainwashed top agents in no time.

The results of Strucker’s and his team’s work is vital both for the promotion of Hydra’s scheme…and to get anything useful from [Y/N] when she will get back again. I’ll be damned if it kills her. Brock’s all too aware that his craving for the ex-girlfriend wouldn’t be condoned if anyone knew – to be fair, he doesn’t quite like it himself because it makes him feel like he isn’t in control of his own damn mind. Every dream is either about missions and kills, sending adrenalin pumping through his veins, or they feature every detail of [Y/N].

The little smile when she was lost in thought. Her spine curving to jut the breasts upwards, skin subtle under Brock’s hands. Remembering the teasing hitches in her breath on a sunny morning, light filtering through the windows to catch in her hair as they made their bed creak together a lifetime ago.

“Godfuckingdamnit!”

Already, an erection is pressing painfully hard against tac-pants and Brock shoves a fist down to reposition the stubborn cock only for a new memory to appear the moment his fingers close around the shaft. Shea-butter mixed with sweat on pebbled nipples…perfect taste. There’s not much room to move the hand, but at least the pants are easily opened allowing for longer strokes.

The speed accelerates with each recollection, fist tightening and twisting while the echoes of [Y/N]’s moans are replaced by cries tearing from her throat when he took her with force. Fuck, it was so good, the man admits to himself, the struggle…oh yeah…the…the control. Breathing laboured, Brock has to lean against the wall, unable to stagger the last few steps over to his cot. She’d begged and pleaded, and he had been the one to grant her peace…or not.

He grunts as he comes. White stickiness spurting between his fingers, adding to the blurry haze from the inability to focus on anything else than the rush thrumming through the veins. It’ll be a short reprieve before the need returns like an endless hunger that nothing can sate. One thing can. But [Y/N] isn’t here, she’s tugged away somewhere with the fucking Avengers and that makes it all a million times worse because to think that Romanoff or maybe even Steve get to be close to her. Get to touch her, smell her.

It stings pleasantly when the hand connects with the drywalling and the structure behind it, thin strings of cum hanging from the torn plaster. At least that clears Brock’s mind a bit.

… Reader …

Lying awake all night, it’s almost a relief to sense the grey dimness take over the room and allow the outlines of furniture to stand out – not even Natasha’s steady breathing has been able to calm your mind after the hours of training spent to tire out your body at least. Why this time?! You’ve spent more than enough nights trying to escape nightmarish memories and negative thoughts but this…this issue is different and you’re happy with the decision you’ve made. I should just tell her.

It’s almost possible to make out the contours of Tasha against the white pillow, darker hair spreading like a halo of smoke. You know she sleeps lightly. Brushing your lips featherlight across her cheek, and she already turns to find your mouth with her own. Sweet and lazy kisses, a single tug to your bottom lip. Morning breath is a non-issue when she invites you into a bubble of gentle safety. Home.

“Morning, babe.” Her fingers tease the shortest hairs in your neck. “You’ve managed to sleep at all?”

There’s no reason to answer, just plant a peck on her nose. “I’ve made up my mind,” you offer as consolation, “and I hope you’ll understand why it’s important to me.”

The love never disappears from the touch while she sits up against the headboard. If it was light enough, you think you might see cautious interest mingled with concern in her eyes because Tasha isn’t as good as hiding it as she thinks she is. That’s a secret though.

“Okay…” She drags you onto her lap, straddling her so the strong arms can wrap around your waist. “Is it about the call from Ross?”

The scent of shampoo still clings to her hair as you bury your face in it, happy to talk into the red mess. “Yes, but mainly it’s about wanting to do what I can.”

Of course your reasoning isn’t perfect, but Natasha doesn’t interrupt even once as you explain how you want to do your part to support the hearings and the new request from the CIA by giving a testimony. Gifted or not, at least there’s information about Brock that can be of use and it seems someone else than just the Avengers are trying to clean things up…hopefully that includes tracking down the people that can be identified to Hydra through the data dumped on the net the day SHIELD fell. You promise to keep the ability secret to anyone outside of Natasha and her friends...admitting that you’ll have to be careful although you’ve got the most convincing cover to any strange phrasing “thanks” to what Brock and his people have put you through while in their hands.

The colours have returned to the world by the time you finish explaining. Dusty lavender heightens the rosy cheeks of the woman looking at you with a serious expression that makes your stomach knot. I have to do this. It’ll be hard as fuck, but it feels right. Feels important.

“I’ll let him know,” Tasha whispers, pulling you in for a tight embrace, “and I’ll be with you all the time.”

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yeollieayheehoo · 5 years

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Thunderheads

Authors note: Hey guys! This is the first chapter for Baekhyuns’ story in A Tale Of Fire And Ice. The stories do all coincide with each other, so please give them a read as well! Please note!! Each chapter will have their own individual warnings, the warnings posted on the mini masterlist apply to the story as a whole!

Summary: Centuries after Gigantomachy, the Titans of legend grow restless, a prophecy set in motion by the shared breath of a long since forgotten God and mere mortal, by the lonely god who sings to the girl made of clouds, and the dead who refuse to grow.

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader (female)

Genre: mythology!au,

Rating: PG

Warnings: explicit language, minor mention of character death,

Word Count: 2.8K

Chapter 1

You find meaning in the thunderstorm.

The way the thunder rolls across the sky in a seamless harmony with the pattering of the raindrops against the tin roof of your home is a lullaby that you could never get tired of. But, it’s the lightning that crashes across the sky that makes your soul come alive, the light almost pink streaks shining light in the black ocean above you.

You’ve been this way since you were younger, in love with the storm. Back then, you would sit in the garage and watch the rain until the storm died, the mist against your skin and smell of the earth mixing with the rain a near religious experience. Now that you’re older though, you find yourself curled up in your reading nook. You’re thankful to have your own place, enjoying the cool breeze that blows in through your open bay windows, something you would have never been able to do in your parents’ house.

You yawn as the tempest lulls you to sleep, curling up under your afghan as the sound of lightning echoes in your mind.

“Don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard?”

Baekhyun smiles, looking down at his brother as he prepares to lose another lightning bolt. “Hera has always loved when I go overboard.”

“Mhm, and I’m sure the mortal she left you over loves it too.” Baekhyun sighs before dropping his bow to his side. “Do you really have to ruin all of my fun, Jongdae?”

“She doesn’t even know you exist, why would you pine over here instead of fixing the relationship with the Goddess you’ve literally spent eternity with?” Jongdae regards him with a curious look on his face as Baekhyun jumps down from his spot in the clouds.

“Because she adores me.”

“She adores what you do. If she knew you, she’d ask how something so beautiful can come from someone so…you.”

“I’ll pretend like that didn’t hurt.” Jongdae shrugs as he puts his coat back on.

“It wasn’t meant to be rude, just an observation.”

Baekhyun follows Jongdae to the Realms entrances, leaning against the door to Jongdaes’ scrunching his nose. “It always smells salty by your door. What happened to the little smell good trees Hermes gave you?”

“You mean the air fresheners that the mortals use in their cars? I threw them away. It’s the ocean, what do you expect?”

“You don’t smell salty.”

“Will you move?” Baekhyun rolls his eyes before pushing himself off of the door, giving Jongdae the freedom to leave. “Be honest, why are you so obsessed with that girl?”

“Something the Fates said.” Jongdae scoffs as if he’s offended by the very idea and dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “You can’t believe everything those old fools say.”

“They were right about you and Medusa.” Jongdaes’ face flushes, the male coughs to clear his throat and shrugs. “That’s old news. They haven’t said anything relevant in ages.”

“We’re all in it. You, me and-“

“Don’t’ say his name.”

“You know, he’s technically the one who has the right to be mad, not you. Besides, are you really going to hold that grudge when the world ends?” Jongdae laughs, an empty and joyless sound. “This wouldn’t even be in the works if the mortals still knew we existed.”

It’s an argument the two of you have had countless times over the centuries and it always comes back to the same result.

Baekhyun is tired of being feared.

Before, back when the Greeks knew of the Olympians existence, it was a pure, unadulterated worship. There was no fear, apart from the one that is hardwired into every human beings make up, the fear of disappointment. But even that doesn’t count to Baekhyun as anything in the comparison with the fear of inferiority.

When the Romans came, with Gods of their own things changed. With the battle of Corinth, that led to the destruction of the city in what the mortals called 146 BC, the people of Greece feared what their beloved Gods would do to exact revenge on the Romans, and their worship changed from one of adoration to one of necessity of fear and destruction.

That’s when the visits to the mortal realm stopped, and with them, so did the belief in the Olympians at all, apart from the stragglers that were few and far between.

“You know why.”

“A little fear never hurt anyone.”

“You’re starting to sound like Chanyeol.”

“Goodbye Baekhyun.” Jongdae presses his palm against the distressed white door and Baekhyun watches in amazement, as he always has, as the door slowly turns from wood into a wall of water. “Find something more productive to do that pine over a girl who won’t live a fraction of your own life.” Jongdae passes through the water with a wave, not a drop of ocean falling out of place.

Baekhyun stares as the door reforms and long after that. He knows Jongdae means well, has always been the wisest brother, but sometimes, Baekhyun wishes the Sea God would stay in the sea. Though that would mean he’d always be alone.

When Hera finally got tired of his shit, she left their clouded fortress at the top of Mount Olympus and with her, so did their children. So then, their great trophy from Gigantomachy, the battle of young Gods, the Olympians and the Titans, became another empty thing to join Baekhyun in his loneliness.

Part of him missed Hera, though he wasn’t sure if it was out of adoration, or if he missed the familiarity of her.

He has always been bad at being alone.

A glow from the door to the Underworld pull him from the thought path he’s been traveling down a lot lately, since a year ago when he found you; you who he believed to be the answer to everything.

“What does he want?” Baekhyun mumbles to himself more than to the empty house before pressing his palm against the dark green door. The color always brings up something melancholy in him as he remembers Persephone’s excitement when she finally got to repaint the door.

Her rose bushes, that have long since wilted, line the path to Chanyeol’s cottage, fitting in perfectly with the eternal night that covers the Underworld.

“You rang?” Baekhyun regards Chanyeol curiously, staring at his stretched-out figure, lounging in his favorite hammock, overlooking his domain.

“I figured you were lonely now that the storm is over. Jongdae usually darts pretty quickly.”

“How do you know that?” Chanyeol gestures lazily to the floating, black orb at his feet. “Oh yeah... the faeries.”

“Yeah… the faeries.” Chanyeol can’t help but to sigh at the nickname given to his messengers by his late wife.

“How are you holding up?” Baekhyun knows the answer to this, it’s been the same for the last century, but he asks anyway as he settles into the patio chair next to his brother. It’s almost pitying the way Persephone haunts the Underworld, traces of her existence refusing to fade away.

“As well as expected. You’d think her plants would have wasted away by now, without her here to tend for them. She’s not coming back, I don’t know what they’re hoping for.” There’s a trace of anger in Chanyeols’ voice, like he wishes her ghost would disappear, but he can’t bring himself to erase her.

“There’s always-“

“Don’t, Baekhyun. You’ve been holding on to that prophecy since she died. Still watching that mortal?”

“You know, when they turn out to be right, like they always are, you and Jongdae are going to look really stupid.” Chanyeol scoffs and turns to face Baekhyun.

“Baek. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you honestly believe that you are supposed to be with some mortal and that we are supposed to stop the Titans from rising again, which by the way, there’s almost no possible way for them to escape their prison. Tell me that you believe Hera, who has put up with all of your adultery and lies for the last some odd millennia that we’ve been alive, isn’t who you’re meant to reside on Mount Olympus with for the rest of our days.” Baekhyun meets Chanyeols gaze, almost mesmerized by his brothers brownish orange eyes and sighs. “I thought so.”

“It’s not that I doubt them Chanyeol. It’s that I can’t afford not to. I cant think about how I’ve given everything I’ve known for it not to be true.”

Chanyeol nods like he understands but doesn’t say anything. This is how his relationship has always been with his brother. When the two were younger, they’d stay like this in the valley most days to hide from Cronus, their father. Jongdae was always the more serious of the three, following their mother Rhea around like a lost puppy at her heels.

“Can I be honest with you Baekhyun?” Chanyeols’ voice is soft as he looks over the amber glow from the souls of his realm and Baekhyun almost doesn’t hear him, the whine of the wind carrying it away. Chanyeol doesn’t wait for him to answer before he speaks again.

“I need them to be wrong, the Fates.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I can handle another loss like Persephone. It’s hard enough, still seeing the echoes of her everywhere. If what the Moirai say is true, then I have 70 years top before I’m right back here.” It’s the most open Baekhyun has ever heard his brother be. He knew the death of Persephone still tormented him, but he never imagined it would affect him like this. In the thousands of years that he’s been alive, he’s never seen Chanyeol be this; be afraid.

“Maybe you should come spend time with me and get out of this literal graveyard for a while.”

“And see Dae? I think I’ll pass.”

“So we won’t have another storm for a while. The mortals are already destroying their realm, a few weeks without rain won’t change anything. You need fresh air, without the constant reminder of Kore.”

Chanyeol cocks a half smile, brushing his blonde hair from his forehead as he contemplates. “And what exactly, will I do in Olympus?”

“Who said anything about Olympus?”

You’re waken by the sun coming through your windows, and the warm breeze as your air heater kicks on. You could barely sleep last night, tossing and turning at the too quiet world in the absence of the rain.

It’s always like this for you.

Begrudgingly, you climb out of bed, making quick work of a shower and dressing before eating a breakfast your mother would have scolded you about and walking out the door. The weather is turning, a cool breeze blowing in from the East. It kisses your cheeks, sending a chill down your body that causes you to pull the lapels of your petticoat jacket tighter around you as you walk to work.

The tattoo parlor you work in as a receptionist has been like your second home since you moved out to Portland four years ago and your co-workers never fail you make you feel like family every time you walk through the door. “Hey Cloud Walker, how’s your morning?”

“Morning, Fanny. It’s been going pretty good. How about yours?” It’s warm in the shop and you’re quick to shed your jacket and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack before checking the appointment book at your counter. “You’re on walk-ins today, yeah?”

“Correct. And considering my 12 canceled, I need them.”

“Did Sunflower mention if she was coming in early today, or is she not coming in until her appointment comes in?”

“She didn’t say. Patch is coming in early.” You hum in response as you erase Fanny’s appointment for twelve oclock today, writing walk ins across the top of her name. “Your newest addition is still looking good. Do you think it needs a touch up anywhere?” Her hands are warm against your wrist as she looks over the stratocumulus clouds you added to your sky sleeve last week. “No, I think it’s okay.”

Fanny grins and pats your wrist before letting it go, turning away from you as she heads back to her station, working on some of her latest tattoo ideas, leaving you up front to go through emails and appointment requests.

You’re just finishing ringing out Patchs’ 2 o’clock appointment when the bell above your front door rings, pulling your attention to the two men that walk in.

Their height difference amuses you for some reason, yet at the same time you find yourself enthralled by their presence. The taller one has his hands shoved in his pockets, blonde hair pushed back framing his undercut. There’s an amused look on his face, corners of his lips twisted up into a smirk as he looks to the shorter one.

He looks nervous. His white hair is in small waves atop his head, peaking over his eyebrows slightly, which are slightly furrowed as he approaches the desk. “Hi, welcome to The Parthenon. Did you have an appointment?”

The taller one laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s a great name. No we didn’t have appointments, we were wondering if you took walk-ins?”

“Yeah, we do. Fanny is with a client right now, but I can see if Sunflower wants to take one, what are you looking to get?”

“I was wanting something else added here, another flower maybe.” The taller shrugs out of his hoodie to reveal a sleeve of flowers decorating his left arm. The detail is exquisite, and it all still looks new, lines dark and colors saturated, but something tells you that he’s had them forever. “My brother though, he’s not sure what he wants. Maybe you could give him an idea?”

“Yeah, let me go grab Sunflower and get the two of you set up, and I’ll be back with a few of our books and we can look through them together, how’s that sound?”

The white haired male nods, flashing you a smile as you move to grab an artist.

“What the fuck, Chanyeol?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this silent. I think this was a great idea.” Baekhyun goes to open his mouth, but stops when he sees you coming back, followed by a black haired girl. “This is Sunflower, if you want to follow her, she can do some free draws in that empty spot on your sleeve and discuss a price with you.” You look at the taller one who has a grin on his face and nods. “Lead the way.”

Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol can feel the way he tenses ever so slightly beside him as the older brother plasters a grin to his face and following the girl you brought back. “If you want to come sit on the side of the counter, we can go over a few ideas. Do you have an idea of what you want?”

“Uh, no, I’m not sure. I do like your clouds though. I take it you’re not a fan of the sunshine.”

You laugh and Baekhyun swears that not even the Muses could create a sound as beautiful. He’s almost entranced by the way your chestnut hair sways back and forth as you shake your head. “No, storms are my happy place.”

“Wow, same honestly. I love the lightning.”

“So do I! The heat lightning is my favorite, though we don’t get much of it here.”

“No, I would imagine not. It’s pretty cool here.” You nod, humming to yourself as you flip through the books, trying to find Baekhyun something that he could care less about. You bring a few to his attention, different types of ideas being brought to his attention, before he notices Sunflower say she’s ready to start with Chanyeol’s tattoo and he stands. “I think you’ve inspired me.”

“Oh? Well let me go get Fanny and you can tell her what it is you’d like.”

The sun has barely moved in the sky by the time Baekhyun is done with his tattoo. You smile sweetly at him as he walks to the counter, curiosity painting your face. “So what’d you get?”

Baekhyun holds out his hand. Between his index finger and thumb, on the back of his hand sits a small, black lightning bolt. The grin that breaks out on your face reminds him that it was worth the trip from his oasis. “Cloud Walker, do 50.”

“Cloud Walker, huh? I take it that’s not your real name?”

“No, it’s Y/N. It’s a nickname I’ve had since I moved here.”

“I think it suits you.”

“And how about you? What’s your name?”

“My name’s Baekhyun.”

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asthebirchtreefalls · 5 years

Text

;;some thoughts on shipping!!

So, I feel like it can send some mixed signals sometimes when folks like me have it written again and again in their rules not to forceship, don’t assume ships will happen, don’t corner my muse into a romantic relationship etc etc etc, but then also kind of...beg for more ships to happen LOL. I wanted to kind of clear up what that means for me.

First of all, the reason I have it written in my rules several thousand times not to try to corner or force me into a ship is due to having this happen numerous times throughout my time RPing.

But what does it mean to forceship? What does that look like? And how is it different from approaching someone you’ve been writing with and broaching the subject of a possible ship with your muses?

I’ll answer this with a personal story because I think it is my best example of what I mean when I refer to forceshipping:

(basically a small essay about forceshipping versus not-forceshipping and what that means from my POV, how to go about suggesting a pairing while avoiding being presumptive, etc, put under a cut bc it got kind of long-winded...but if you have an interest in possibly shipping with me, I’d love for you to scan it over!)

Some years ago I was a writing a muse that will remain nameless. We’ll just call him Mr. Muse I guess lol. Anyway, I got approached on Mr. Muse’s blog by an OC whose entire existence, backstory, traits, etc, were predicated on her muse being Mrs. Muse, married to my guy. I thought, oh okay, she must just have a really involved story with another person who writes Mr. Muse and this really defines her character (which I totally get, see: my Archie). Turned out, nope, this was based on nothing but the mun’s own hopeful assumption that everyone would just play along with this, including my own Mr. Muse. Not one to want to prejudice and exclude her based on this weird character bio, I agreed to write with her but firmly explained that if her muse was going to be romantically involved with my muse, we had to write it out and see if it happened naturally. I told her very firmly I could make no promises, it really depended entirely on my muse’s whim and that of the writing. She told me she understood 100%. I reminded her my muse was not a very personable character and would need a lot to build trust first with her muse, if he did at all. Again, she said this was totally fine and she understood.

Nevertheless when we started writing it was as if...there was nothing my muse could do or say, no matter how rude or standoffish (because he didn’t know her muse well at all and that was just his personality) that could sway her from being flirtatiously dismissive of him and/or trying to push their relationship (such as it was) further. That alone is permissible, some characters are like that, but then the mun began pushing me for more and more romantic plots for threads despite my telling her I didn’t think they made sense at this time. My muse didn’t feel that way, at least not yet, and I didn’t want to write anything that was untrue to him. The mun would not stop pushing me on this issue and having her muse push mine in a direction he was resistant to go, so I finally had to block her. (She then popped up on a different alts and tried to pretend to be someone else to get her way with me, which is...another topic entirely, but still creepy and pushy)

What I’m saying is, forceshipping has to involve a certain lack of respect for what another mun is telling you. If a mun tells you that a pairing could happen, but needs to be naturally developed, and you still use underhanded, manipulative tactics to try to speed the process up and get the pairing you want before either muse is in a place where it makes sense, that’s forceshipping. Forceshipping is feeling an entitlement to a pairing despite a lack of any real development or consent. Forceshipping is, in a way, a lot like godmodding because you’re telling another mun; ‘I don’t care that you write your character this way, I want you to write them THIS way to suit my whim’

In my opinion, anyway, forceshipping is not approaching another mun politely and saying, ‘Hey I think I’m getting a sense of a pairing possibility with our muses, what would you think of that?’. Of course, they may say no, that it doesn’t make sense to them, etc, and as long as that reply is accepted and respected, I don’t think there’s any harm in just bringing it up and asking. When you ask, you’re creating an equal dialogue that allows the other mun to have their rightful say over the character they’re writing. Plus, a lot of us DON’T KNOW that the other person wants to ship and are too scared to bring it up, but may 100% want to explore the same thing! Please ask. The worst reply you could get is no, and at least then you have your answer. The best RP ships I’ve ever had in my 20+ years of RP have come from one of us just asking the simple question, ‘Hey, you interested in this?’

I also don’t feel that forceshipping is necessarily a character flirting with another character, especially as someone who has at least a couple of muses that casually flirt all the time. Some muses are flirty. Some muses may mean something by it, some others may not.

I also don’t think forceshipping is one muse having unrequited feelings for another, so long as both muns understand the situation and equally agree on the dynamic.

Basically, I think a huge difference between forceshipping and NOT forceshipping are the dialogues you have with your writing partners and the level of trust, honesty and respect you keep between you both. Communication is KEY, as is respecting each other’s wishes and boundaries.

So, that’s my piece. Just wanted to clarify, because I’d LOVE to explore more pairings with my muses and I was worried I came across standoffish with all my firewalls in place against forceshipping. Asking me if it’s a possibility is 100% a-okay, welcomed and encouraged.

#ooc #psa #for reference #I guess? i guess someone might need to reference this later #i probably will

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hariboowrites · 6 years

Text

IW coda (2/2)

PART 1

SUMMARY: THOR AND JANE FOCUSED CODA TO IW bc i am who i am

She pops out on the ashes of a battlefield and realises her mistake.

“Halt!” She hears and wince. No, now she realises her mistake.

“Fuck,” Jane mutters, spinning in place, her hands up, as she comes face to face with Wakandan soldiers. They’re all pointing their spears at her and Jane yelps. “Sorry! I’m human! I’m— I’m Dr. Jane Foster. Your princess invited me here?”

The soldiers raise their eyebrows, unbelieving, and Jane can’t fault them. She only met Princess Shuri once at one of Jane’s lectures in Brussels not long after Wakanda opened itself to the world. She had handed Jane a very cool touch screen business card that Jane had tried to reverse engineer for about a month. She hadn’t manage.

I should have called first, Jane thinks, but the words that come out of her mouth are: “I have this!” And she digs into one of her jacket pockets and pulls out the card in question. Swiping her fingers across the screen, an image emerges from it with Princess Shuri’s face.

“Dr. Foster, I’d love to speak more with you about your Foster Theory. Please feel free to get in contact with me when your schedule allows. The details will be on the card. Bye!”

They look at each other, sigh, and lowered their spears.

Jane grins.

And this is why she never empties her pockets, Darcy.

In front of them the remaining ruling body of Wakanda are holding court with Rogers and Colonel Rhodes. Rhodes has just taken a call with Queen Regent Romanda and the remaining world council. Less than half of them remain; General Ross is gone. Thor watched as Bruce twisted his fingers together and mouthed a name. His hands fisted on his trousers. Natasha’s eyes flicked towards him. The name had not been Natasha’s. Thor knows little about what was happening between them as when he was last on Midgard he had been splitting his time between New York and where Jane was.

Jane…

Her memory burns deeply in him. Her home based had moved from London to Edinburgh not long after Convergence, but institutions around the world were constantly calling her to work with them. It had been an interesting way to see the world. The thought brings a sharp ache in his heart. When he left they had been on tense but good terms despite what he implied to Loki, but he lost Jane too. Maybe more fully than he ever allowed himself to think. She could be gone now, like half the world, like half the universe, and every time he let his thoughts stray that way, he has to stop himself.

As Her Majesty and Rhodes continue their meeting with various world leaders, Queen Romanda offers Wakanda’s assistance. Her son was King until an hour ago, as he’s come to understand, and now she stands, straight backed, eyes wise, and heart most certainly broken. Thor tries not think of his mother, tries not think of how she looked after Loki’s first death. He thinks about he’s selfishly glad she did not have to live through his following two and Father’s. Or how she would have felt about Hela’s return. He can’t think on that, not now, not when Thanos lives and half the universe is gone. M’baku stands next to the Queen as she and Rhodes coordinate to bring Midgard back into balance. Families are gone, friends are gone, but so are many world leader and their governing bodies. In the aftermath, shock will reign, but once things settle down… good people have remained, but so have greedy and cruel people. Thanos did not better the universe, he only created instability in an already finely balanced scale. He did not understand. Thor only understands now as he watches the ashes fall.

Soon, he leaves the meeting room with Rogers, Romanoff, Banner, Rocket, Princess Shuri, and her guard. They follow the Princess, her eyes still red rimmed and pulling at Thor’s heartstrings, to her lab. Rocket clambers up Thor’s cape and settles quiet on his shoulder. Thor allows him. No father should lose his son. Once they reach the lab, he jumps down and curls up by a window. The Wakandans look at the talking racoon with wide eyes, but easy acceptance. The world they lived in now was not one were you could dismissed an ally, strange, small, and angry as they might be.

Rogers and Romanoff stand near each other. Okoye does not move more than five feet from the princess’ side. Banner hovers and paces across the room. At one point Natasha’s phone beeped and she looked down to it before moving to talk to Okoye about something.

So even now, in a room with allies and friends, Thor feels so completely alone. Useless in a way he never has before. Strombreaker pulses differently in his hand than Mljonir did. It harnesses his power differently, requires more from him. He guesses it’s a good thing that in the last fortnight his powers have been raging high within him.

Speaking off, he feels them now. Bubbling under his fingertips. He clenches his hand, fingernails biting into his skin. Thinking of home and Loki and Jane has not done any good to his temperament. He tries to think of Krog and Valkyrie and the remaining Asgardians who made it off the ship. He hopes they’ve found safe harbour. He hopes that with Asgard already gone, it’s population already halved by Thanos, the universe was kind to them and spared them all. Asgard indeed lives in the heart of its people, but if there are no people to keep its beat alive the Asgard is truly gone. The thought makes him hate Thanos more than he thought possible, it makes him hate Hela who if not for all the secrets in his family he may have loved. Something dark and bitter in him thinks they would have been well suited to each other. Goddess of Death and the warlord who courted it.

“Thor? Thor?”

Snapping back to the present, Thor turns. Rogers looks at him with kind, understanding eyes. Thor straightens. The captain’s empathy always shines clear in this eyes. “I am sorry, my mind drifted away from me.”

He nods, “It’s okay. We were just wondering… can you get us to Thanos?”

Thor considers this. He lifts Strombreaker. “I do not have Heimdall’s power of Sight across the universe. I cannot find someone who is where I don’t know, but I can get us off planet should we need to.”

Banner makes his turn around the room. “We have to find Tony too… I mean, if he’s—“

“We’ll find him,” Rogers says. Thor wishes he could sound as confident as him. Everything in him is struggling to keep it together. “And then we’ll find Thanos—“ The name sparks new anger in him, his fingers light up.

Everyone looks at him. Rocket lifts his head for the first time in a while. “You okay, big guy?”

Thor nods. He is not, but he has to be.

He has to be.

“You sure—“

His fingers spark.

Natasha gets cut off as a pair of guards enter the room.

“Okoye, Princess, there is a woman who—“

“Thor!”

Jane’s voice rings out and everything inside him stops. His focus narrows on her and her face as she turns the corner. She pushes past the guards that were flanking her and rushes across the room to him. He notes they go and stop her, and tenses, ready to intervene, but Okoye catches their eye and nods at them. They stand down.

It’s the most natural thing in the world to catch her in his arms and wrap his arms around her. His power immediately settles back into his skin at the feel of her weight under his hands. Jane’s arms are tight around his neck and he clutches her, her feet skimming off the ground. If she feels the remainder of the sparks in his fingers she says nothing; she’s familiar with the edges of his power anyway. He can feel the whisper of his name against his neck. How her body relaxes into his, her relief physical. His own body echoes it. The tightness in chest diminishes slightly. He buries his face in her hair for a second before pulling back to look into her eyes.

They are familiar and shining. He lifts one hand from her waist to wipe at the corner of her eyes.

“Jane,” he says. The first word in days that does not bring him pain.

Her fingers smooth through his hair. She closes her eyes for a beat. “You’re okay, you’re okay....” she mutters and looks into his eyes. “Your hair...” her eyes narrow and she touches his right eye and he knows she sees the difference in their colour. “Your...” He shakes his head. Not here, but now. She gives him a familiar sigh as her fingers skim his jaw. They’ll be talking about it later.

Jane leans back, her touch soft. He wants to lean into it further. He loosens his hold enough to let her touch the ground despite that everything in him wants to pull her in closer.

“Thor, what happened?” she asks, voice steady, but scared. “I was in Cape Town on the phone with Darcy when she... then other people around me— My mom didn’t answer the phone. Neither did Sif.” And while that surprises Thor, but there’s no time to dwell on his friend and the flash of pain in his heart when he remembers Heimdall’s sacrifice. “What happened?” Her voice breaks. “What happened?”

Thor hates he’s the one that has to tell her he failed, but she deserves to hear it from him.

“Thanos got the stones. We— I was too late,” he says. The name creating a new spark of pain in him. Jane looks at him and grabs his hand. She squeezes his fingers and slips them between her own. Thor grips her like a lifeline. He is surprised at how much her touch settles him still.

“It wasn’t your fault, Thor,” Rogers cuts in, reminding Thor they are not alone. Jane turns to face him. Steve smiles at her. “Hi, Jane.”

Thor takes a deep breath. Rogers is wrong, but it’s not the time for that. “Let us all talk,” he says instead.

Jane nods, shifting to stand at his side, as she looks across the room. As soon as she see Shuri, she blushes.

“I’m so sorry, Princess. I used this to get your guards to let me in,” and she pulls out a very small electronic card.

Princess Shuri smiles. “It’s alright, Dr. Foster. It is why I gave it to you. Though I thought you would call first, but under the circumstances I understand why you didn’t.”

Jane shrugs . “Yeah, sorry. It was rude, I know.” She turns to their friends. “Hi, guys.”

“I just got your message,” Romanoff says with a small smile. “A little more warning would have been nice. How did you get here so fast?”

“I’ll explain in a second. Hey, Bruce.” She reaches out to Banner, who steps up and gives her a slightly awkward hug since she’s still holding Thor’s hand. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Banner grins; his first since Thor landed on Earth. “Hi, Jane. It’s good to see you, too.”

She snorts. “Understatement of the year. Catch me up?” She steps forward, tugging on Thor’s hand as she moves. Thor walks towards Princess Shuri with her. He doesn’t want to let go of her hand and thankfully Jane is not forcing the matter. As they fill Jane in on what’s happened in the last few days across the universe, Thor and Banner add in what happened on Sakaar and Asgard. Jane starts when he skims over what happened to Asgard and Heimdall and even Loki. She meets his eyes and while she says nothing he can see how her entire body sags, how her eyes mist, and she chokes back a sob at what she sees in his gaze. Her grip on his hand tightens and she presses her forehead to his bicep. He feels her lips brush his skin in silent comfort. They have too much to talk about. Banner, a good friend, better than Thor had thought a week ago, covers for them and quickly starts to explain what he knows of Stark, trapped somewhere in space. It gives Thor time to regroup before he adds in the facts of his journey these last few days. Rocket adds his own colourful commentary as Thor explains the creation of his axe. Jane to her credit only blinks at the talking raccoon.

“And is Eitri alright? Is Nidavellir still working?” she asks. He had almost forgotten he had taken there once to meet Eitri. How she had studied Nidavellir, how she wore a piece forged from there on her person, still. He can feel it against his palm.

Thor nods, catching the glint in Jane’s eye. “He does. Do you need his help?”

Jane hums. “Maybe later…” she says, pulling her bag closer to her. She turns to Rogers and Rhodes, who came into the room as they explained the situation to Jane, “So first thing first. You guys wanna find Tony, I mean, if he’s still—“

“Thor can get us into space,” starts Rogers. “His ham—his axe brought him here, didn’t it?”

“It did,” he affirms, quietly enjoying how Jane’s eyes light up at the fact. That she is still here, that her eyes still brighten at the science of Asgard, that her mind still looks for answers to reach the stars allows him to feel normal for the first time in days.

Turning to Rogers, he explains just how calling the Bifrost with his axe works. “But only if I know the location. It’s why I could get here. I do not have Heimdall’s power to look through the stars and locate a person in a place unknown. I require previous knowledge of the location. I cannot just call the Bifrost across the universe if I don’t know where I’m going even if I know who I’m looking for. Once I get closer to a location I can guide it better, but first I need to know the place I’m aiming for. But Jane, you can, can you not?”

Jane looks at him and bites her lip. The warm flare of affection and attraction at that familiar gesture makes Thor grin. He knows that look well. She can. He could kiss her. It surprises him how much he wants to right now.

“Not yet,” she says. Reaching in her pocket she pulls out a small device. “Tony helped me with some of the nanotech and the arc reactor, and I can now make the portals I used during Convergence to get around the planet. I didn’t want anyone to know I had the technology yet, it’s still mostly untested, and not as stable as I want it to be.” She swallows, her eyes flicking away from him. “I still get some vertigo if I go across the planet, but that’s what I was hoping Princess Shuri would help me with,” she says, turning to the princess. “Except now I think we might need to try to get a bit further than North America?”

At her words, Princess Shuri grins, her eyes (still a bit puffy form her earlier tears) crinkle from her smile. “Oh yes,” she moves across the room and holds her hands out for Jane’s device. Jane hands it over easily. “I think I can definitely help with that, Dr. Foster!” She pops the device under a Wakandan scanner and starts moving around her lab. Okoye gives a grateful look at Jane as she looks over her charge. Banner moves closer and eagerly listens to the princess explain Jane’s device and her idea to help boost Jane’s portals to span the universe. Rogers and Natasha walk over to Okoye and Thor knows they’re about to beginning planning what they’ll do next once the princess and Jane get the device to work. Thor knows he should go over to them, and he will, soon, but right now Jane is still by his side. She’s standing next him, her hand still in his, her eyes on the princess and her device, and soul intact.

Thor will move. He will plan with his friends, he will avenge his brother and the universe. They will fix this somehow, but for now, for this moment, Jane is here. He thinks about he told Rocket on the way to Nidavellir. What more do I have to lose? Glancing at Jane, he realises is not willing to find out. He did not know what he had still, but now he does.

She must feel him looking at her and glances up at him. “Hey, you okay?”

He nods, and it feels true. “Better now that you’re here.” He lifts their joined hands and kisses her fingers.

She laughs, reaching up to cup his jaw and raises herself up on her tiptoes. Her lips brush against his cheek. “Same, you know. I didn’t think I’d— I’m… I feel better when you’re around.” Grabbing her bag, she nods her head toward the corner of her lab. “By the way, I have something else to tell you. I might have gone to Norway a month ago when I saw some Bifrost readings there.”

Thor lifts his brow, curious. Jane hands the bag to him and he pauses at the weight in it. He looks at her and realises she’s been holding it with easy for some time. Her eyes meet him and she grins.

“Surprise,” she says, eyes bright and Thor feels hope again.

#thor odinson #jane foster #fosterson #thor x jane #jane x thor #mcy #fanfic #wip #idk if i'm gonna anythign else #but maybe

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thelastspeecher · 6 years

Text

I’ve been reading the books that the Olympian Falls AU is based on (well. reading the new ones; the earlier ones it would be re-reading). and they’re so great and it got me all pumped and I wrote more for that AU today. so here, have Stan and Angie reuniting after not seeing or talking to each other in years. naturally, their reunion involves knives and punching, bc that’s what the best reunions all have to have.

Stan silently approached the small semi-circle of demigods sitting around the campfire. He couldn’t make out any chains or other methods of keeping the kids hostage, but that didn’t mean anything. Threats could be just as effective as physical bondage. He carefully tapped on the shoulder of the closest teen. The teen let out a small yelp.

“Shh,” Stan hissed. The teen looked at him with wide, gray eyes. Stan recognized those eyes.

A kid of Athena, huh? Good. I can explain things fastest to him.

“I’m here to rescue you,” Stan continued. The demigod frowned.

“What? But-” An arrow zipped by Stan, nicking his shoulder. He jerked away from the teen instinctively.

“Leave him alone!” a commanding voice said. Stan looked around. He could see a shadowy figure standing a short distance away, bow drawn and an arrow ready to fire.

“Like Hades I will,” Stan growled. The person holding the demigods hostage fired another arrow. This one scratched Stan’s calf.

“That’s my last warnin’ shot, bud. If ya don’t leave us alone right now, I’ll start aimin’ more lethally.”

“Oh, screw you,” Stan snapped, drawing his sword. He charged at the stranger. The stranger dropped their bow and drew a dagger from somewhere just in time to clash with Stan’s sword.

“I hate melee fights,” the stranger muttered. Stan grinned.

“Good. ‘Cause I love ‘em.” He knocked the dagger out of the stranger’s hand, forcing them to take a step back. “Now, I’m gonna take these kids to safety, and you’re gonna either run away or die. Doesn’t make a difference to me, really.” He advanced on the stranger, who continued to back away. There was a faint splash. Suddenly, Stan’s sword was grabbed out of his hand by an unseen force. Stan blinked. “Huh?”

“Mighty nice sword you’ve got here,” the stranger said idly. They were now holding Stan’s weapon, looking it over.

“Hey!” Stan protested. “How- how did-”

“That’s fer me to know, not you,” the stranger said. Stan gritted his teeth.

Fine! I’m better with my fists, anyways. Stan rushed forward, prepared to punch the daylights out of this hostage-taker, only for his outstretched fist to be caught by the stranger. He froze. That- that never happens. No one can catch my punches. Avoid them, maybe, but stop them? He could feel water beginning to soak through his shoes. We’re standing in a puddle. Gears started to turn in his head. But before he could finish his thought, the stranger kicked him in the chest, and he went flying backwards, landing on the dirt dangerously close to the campfire. The demigods closest to him scrambled backwards. Okay. There’s only one person I’ve ever met who likes to pull that shit. The stranger advanced on him. Light from the campfire illuminated their face, flickering in familiar sea-green eyes.

“Angie!” Stan yelped. Angie froze. “Shit, kid, if you’d told me it was you-”

“Stan?” Angie said, aghast. She let out a short laugh. “Gods, Pines, yer goin’ to get yourself killed one of these days.” Stan couldn’t help his grin, now that he recognized the attacker as one of his oldest friends.

“Yeah. I hear that a lot,” he said dismissively. Angie held out her hand. Stan grabbed it and allowed her to pull him up. He idly dusted off his clothes. “Good thing it rained earlier today. Otherwise I woulda kicked your ass, instead of it being the other way around.”

“I don’t leave that to chance anymore,” Angie said. She tapped a canteen clipped to her belt. “Always keep some water on me, in case I need a boost.”

“She cheats,” Stan translated for the teen demigods, who were watching Stan and Angie banter. Angie scoffed.

“It ain’t cheatin’. It’s gettin’ the most out of my abilities. I can control water and get super-charged by it, so I make sure to have some on hand.” Angie punched Stan playfully. “Never know when I might run up against a master boxer like you.” The son of Athena Stan had noticed earlier cleared his throat.

“Uh, who is he?” the teen asked. Angie beamed and clapped Stan on the shoulder. Stan stifled a grin at how she had to reach up to do so.

She never did get that growth spurt she kept saying she would.

“This is one of my friends from camp. Stan Pines, son of Hermes.” Stan bowed extravagantly. “I guess you got sent by someone to help escort these kids?”

“Yeah. But no one said that they’d already have someone helping them,” Stan said. He raised an eyebrow at Angie. “Especially not a girl who claimed she was leaving the whole Greek world behind her to go to ‘college’.” He put air quotes around the last word to emphasize how he felt about secondary education. Angie rolled her eyes.

“Come on, I got you a bit beat up. Kiddos, keep doin’ whatever ya were doin’ while I get Stan cleaned up.” Angie led Stan away from the campfire, to a small tent. She ushered Stan inside.

“It’s dark as fuck in here.”

“There’s a lantern.” Angie crawled in and rummaged around. There was a small click. Light filled the tent. “See?”

“Now I do.”

“Oh, you.” Angie opened a small first aid kit. As she grabbed bandages and antiseptic, Stan watched her. She looked different from the last time Stan had seen her. It wasn’t just that she had cut her hair into a short bob. It was also the way she held herself. More confidently. She seemed a bit paler than usual; her always present beach tan was washed out by the harsh light from the lantern. Angie tucked a strand of caramel-colored hair behind one ear. Stan realized he was staring. He cleared his throat.

“So, uh, how was college?” Stan asked quietly. Angie shrugged.

“Decent. Majored in oceanography with a minor in zoology.”

“Really? Oceanography?” Stan said. Angie glanced at him.

“Yeah. What about it?”

“That’s cheating.”

“Oh, please.”

“Your dad is the god of the oceans. Getting a degree in the study of the ocean is like me getting a degree in thievery. You’ve got an unfair advantage.”

“I like to think of it as an innate talent,” Angie said. “A gift.”

“If that makes you feel better.”

“Yer awful rude to the person patchin’ ya up.” Stan grinned.

“Nah. I’m just teasing you, kid.”

“You’ll have to stop callin’ me that at some point. I’m in my twenties now, y’know.” Angie began to dab at Stan’s shoulder wound with a cotton ball. “What have you been up to?”

“Not much,” Stan said. “Got a job and a place in the city. I help out at the camp whenever I can.” Angie’s mouth twitched. “What?”

“Yer havin’ a rough time movin’ on from Camp Half-Blood, huh?”

“It’s not like I have much to fall back on. You’ve got your siblings and your smarts. All I’ve got is Ford. And he’s-” Stan cut himself off. Angie paused.

“Did the two of ya have a fallin’ out?” she asked softly. Stan shrugged. Angie tsked. “Don’t move like that. I’m tryin’ to clean ya up.”

“Right. Uh, it’s- it’s a long story,” Stan muttered. Angie didn’t pry further. Instead, she changed the topic.

“Don’t ya have yer mom and older brother to spend time with?”

“I haven’t talked to them in a while, either.”

“Why not?”

“They’re mortal. I don’t wanna put ‘em in danger.”

“Oh, Stanley,” Angie sighed. She stroked Stan’s cheek fondly. “Ya were always a lot sweeter ‘n ya claimed to be.” Stan could feel a flush starting to spread across his features, starting at the skin directly underneath Angie’s warm, soft hand. He coughed, trying to disrupt the tension.

“How’d you get roped into escorting a buncha demigods to camp? You said you were gonna leave all of this stuff behind.”

“I did say that.” Angie’s hand fell away from Stan’s cheek. “And I meant it. My senior year of high school and all of college, I stayed out of things. I didn’t seek anything out. Only dealt with things what came after me.” She busied herself with something in the first aid kit. “But after I got my degree, I took a gap year. I felt like there was somethin’ missin’. And I didn’t want to get my graduate degree with that feelin’ hangin’ over me.

“I was walkin’ ‘round campus when I saw ‘em. A pack of teens, all of ‘em carryin’ weapons of some sort, bein’ escorted by a satyr. And right behind ‘em was a big ole snake. Naturally, I intervened. Sliced that snake ‘fore it could hurt those kids.” Angie shrugged. “Ended up joinin’ ‘em to protect ‘em. And here we are, now.”

“Here we are, now,” Stan repeated quietly. “Mind if I join your little group? There’s a lotta kids here. Seems like you could use an extra hand.” Angie smiled at him.

“I can always use an extra hand, if that hand is yours, Stanley Pines.”

#I wanna focus on my OTHER writing #like my multichaps or prompts in my inbox #but I keep having these fits of exhaustion from my new meds #so I'm just sort of riding the waves and writing the things I get inspired for only #bc those are what I have the energy and motivation to write #anyways this was fun. enjoy.#Olympian Falls AU #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

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bondsmagii · 7 years

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hey uh, i don't wanna be rude, like i know men aren't all axe murderers, but that Shining post sounds like it was about the potential for abuse in men? as someone who loves King, i can't read the book bc jack is a mirror image of my loud, violent stepfather. running, hiding, the suspense of hearing his angry footsteps - that's what i think the post was about. how yeah, obvi not all men are influenced by demonic forces, but they still have the potential to strike that One Specific Fear in others

like i know jack was under the control of the hotel, but he was violent towards his family prior to that. the way his family interacted with him, even before any contact with the hotel - that’s a very real, very common, and very scary situation that the malicious sentient hotel just magnified. that’s what i think OP had in mind with that post

I see what you mean, but I still think that post is moronic and kind of disrespectful to Jack’s character. a huge part of the book was about how Jack was abusive, and how he terrorised his family, and how he himself came from abuse. but another huge part of the book was how Jack was trying with everything he had to better himself and not make those mistakes again. does this excuse him from his previous abuse? no. does it make it right? no. but somewhere along the line Jack realised he was repeating the cycle of addiction and abuse he had come from and he decided to try to change it. Wendy decided to give him that chance, which is her choice. it doesn’t come across in the film (and King, I believe, dislikes the adaption because it does leave so much out) but Jack was making a pretty solid go of it. he was actually succeeding in changing himself.

for me, a huge part of the horror comes from the fact that Jack meant well, and was doing well, and would have likely succeeded and turned his life around and become a good husband and father had the hotel not corrupted him. clearly Jack had those malicious forces somewhere inside him – it was the same part of him that made him an abuser, after all. but it’s said often that what makes us good or bad are the choices we make, and Jack chose to better himself. the scary element, for me, is that that choice was then ripped from him, and he was forced into doing what he feared the most: hurting his wife and child. I cannot think of anything more horrific for a parent.

so while I can see what you’re saying, I have to disagree when you say that OP had what you’re saying in mind. its flippancy, its dismissive tone, and the current culture on tumblr makes me think it was simply another one of those posts that seems to truly believe that every single man out there is an abuser. this culture has grown so incessant that it’s even stripped this argument from me: I’ll probably just get accused of being another one of those ‘not all men’ types even though what I’m saying is true. not all men are abusive. men don’t just “be like” that. The Shining has a lot of other complex things going on and if all you take away from it is that Jack chased Wendy with a baseball bat then you’ve really not taken anything else into account. I can totally understand why people who have been abused by men might dislike the book/film and feel uncomfortable re: Jack’s character, but if you’re trying to tell me that that particular post wasn’t meant as a flippant, generalising insult, I have to disagree.

#anon #asks #shitscourse #also as a sidenote i'm sort of 'eh' on the idea of 'potential for abuse in men'#all but like three men i've met in my entire life were perfectly normal non-abusive people #what about the potential for abuse in women #i know people say women don't abuse as often but they do #they just use different tactics #i've met the same amount of abusive women as i have men and this is never mentioned #it's not strictly related to this but it does make me uncomfortable #because female abusers can and do hide behind this assumption that only men abuse #and the women that have abused /me/ have hidden behind it and in some cases fooled others into thinking i was abusing /them/#when i was actually their victim #so like this is not an argument/statement i particularly like

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